Hello everyone! Another painfully late update, I know, but it's been busy. Lately life has been ruled by bizarre health issues and homework and tests, but I'm happy to have this chapter out for you all now. I'm grateful to everyone who reads this story, whether you've been sticking with it for a while or have just read it for the first time recently. As always, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

-Pneuma

The audience is dead silent now, obviously waiting for my response. I stand there staring at Peeta in a state of shock, still trying to process what this will mean—what this might mean. He reaches out and takes my right hand and gives it a squeeze, to remind me that I need to say something.

"Y…yes," I reply, my voice shaking slightly. "Of course I will. You could have just put the ring on, you already knew my answer I'm sure." Peeta chuckles and the audience laughs with him, some of them whistle, others are clapping and cheering. Then he places the ring on my finger and stands up, kisses me again, then faces the audience.

"I'd like you all to meet the future Mrs. Peeta Mellark," he says triumphantly, and the cheer is so loud that I wonder if I'll ever be able to hear again. Flowers rain down all around us like a colorful sweet smelling shower. I glance over briefly and see President Snow, clapping with the audience. His mouth is twitched into the slightest of smiles, but the eyes are still cold, devoid of any real warmth, and calculating. I hate this man, but I won't show it.

After the rest of the interview I find myself with Peeta in the elevator, our hands laced together. Effie and Haymitch are with us, and the contrast between the two is amusing me. Effie is absolutely brimming over with excitement, already into some kind of wedding planning mode that I'm assuming had to have been simply hibernating for a while, because she's so far into it that I can't see any possible way that she hadn't have thought about it before. Haymitch on the other hand is studying us quietly, clearly thinking carefully about the situation. I'm assuming that he knew about this beforehand, so I'm not sure why exactly he feels the need to study it so carefully, but Haymitch is all about strategy, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

"Colors! We need to pick colors! We could try pink and green, or perhaps some kind of electric blue and white," she twitters on as we're stepping out of the elevator and out onto the District Twelve Floor level. I shiver as I remember that it is now the only level inhabited by tributes. Well…not tributes anymore I suppose. Victors. Cinna steps up from I'm not sure where.

"Effie, for colors perhaps it would be good to use the fire theme, or we could put it to a vote," he says in his quiet way. Effie nods.

"Of course of course!" she agrees excitedly. I wonder briefly how old she is. She looks young, but in the Capitol you never know, since there are so many different kinds of surgeries dedicated to making them look younger. For all I know she's fairly old and single and childless and has suddenly been given the chance to plan a wedding. It's strange to think about and I momentarily get lost in wondering about this. How do they even usually plan a wedding in the Capitol? Similarly to how we did it before I came here? I have no clue.

Effie babbles on and on about the wedding through dinner, and by the time it's over I'm beginning to wonder if Peeta and I will get a say in it at all. After dessert we glance at each other and I know what he's saying without him speaking a word out loud. We both quietly leave the table and head up the stairs and to the roof. He links his fingers into mine as we walk, and then we sit in the garden. For a while there's silence.

"Did you see the look in his eyes?" I whisper quietly to him. He looks over at me.

"Who?" but this time, I think he already knows.

"Snow," I say. "He's…he's not pleased with us. With what we did."

"Yeah, I thought that's what you meant," he responds. "We have to be careful. That man…well I'm sure you can see it too. Or sense it. He's dangerous." I shiver, but not because of cold. It's because Peeta is absolutely right. President Snow could take everything from us. Friends, family, our entire district. Even our memories. Even our feelings. I look down at my toes. In the interview I tried to say what would make the Capitol look better, to play it off as if the Capitol planned the entire thing, although I know they didn't.

"He is," I agree. "Deadly." Peeta puts his arm around me and pulls me in close. It's protective, and it's comforting. Peeta is always warm and safe. This gesture though, tugs at a nagging little feeling. I need to know. "Peeta…is this real?" I hold up my hand to show him the ring on my finger.

"Well if you can feel it on you, you should be able to tell," he says with a chuckle. I shake my head.

"No, I mean, do you mean it. If you don't have real feelings, I don't want you to trap yourself. Because you know that now we'll never, ever, be able to go back. The Capitol has linked us together for life, and now you intend to seal the deal literally. I…I can't do this if you're not…if you're not—" Peeta cuts me off, taking my shoulders in his hands and turns me to face him.

"I've never lied about my feelings this whole time. Not once. Not in the interview before we went in the arena. Not in the arena, and not now. I'm completely serious about all of this," he tells me. "I don't know why you keep thinking I'm not. I don't why you're so scared of this. Or maybe it's because you don't want to be trapped. Is that it?"

"That's not it. You can't possibly think that I don't love you. I've never lied about my feelings either," I say. He pulls me in close to him and wraps his arms around me.

"Then there isn't a problem," he says, then pauses. "Well…there is a bit of a problem." I freeze.

"What would that be?" I ask him quietly.

"Whether or not we'll get to make any decisions about our wedding at all," he says, his voice and face dead serious. I had been expecting something much more painful, but Peeta has executed this perfectly. I start to giggle at first, and then it breaks to full laughter. He laughs with me. This is what I needed. The tension and worry has been so high for days that I might have snapped.

"Well at the rate Effie's going, that really is a problem," I respond. "It's like we've given her a new wig that doubles as a purse."

"Forget the wig, I don't think her enthusiasm for this could be matched by anything else we could do," Peeta says, still laughing.

"Maybe it would do makeup too," I say.

"And manufacture custom clothes," he adds.

"And precious gems," I contribute.

"Especially pearls!"

"That's right, because when you put enough pressure on coal…" I begin, mimicking Effie's accent and tone of voice.

"It makes pearls!" Peeta finishes for me. We laugh together for a while, not saying anything else. Then he looks over at me. "Oh but I just remembered something. Something that is serious."

"What?" I ask him, resting my head on his shoulder.

"There is the matter of my parents."