Chapter One
A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes

Once upon a time in very far, far away land called Panem, a kingdom divided in thirteen provinces and a majestic Capitol that had control over them. The country was ruled by a king and a queen, who reigned with wisdom and honor. The royal couple cherished their two daughters, their successors. The firstborn inherited the king's olive skin, grey eyes, dark hair and melodic voice. The youngest shared the queen's features, from the light blonde hair to the soft blue eyes.

All the 13 realms that composed Panem were in pure ecstasy. Never had they been so prosperous.

But then everything went wrong.

An evil sorcerer desired the throne, and to achieve such goal he poisoned the king and casted a malign spell upon the queen, who fell into a deep eternal slumber.

Many tried to claim the throne, from the stonemasons from the Province of Two to the obscure witches from the Thirteenth, all of them failed, the last province being completely destroyed by the sorcerer.

To protect the royal children, a guard from the castle escaped from the Capitol, carrying both infants with him in the back of a courser. He roamed through the plains of the First province, through the mountains of the second, the sandy beaches in the Forth, across the desert of the Eleventh, until he reached the dense forests of the Twelfth province, now the last of Panem.

Both girls were left in the doorstep of a woman with a kind heart, which the guard was certain that would raise them well.

In matter of months, one by one, the provinces of Panem succumbed to the will of the atrocious sorcerer that usurped the throne. But what he didn't know was that the princesses were still alive, and one day they would discover their origin and claim what was rightful theirs…

"Katniss… wake up," small fingers tickle my nose, making me wrinkle my face, "…wake up, wake up, wake up!"

The fingers find their way to my ribs and it becomes unbearable, I burst into laughter and she joins me, my eyes open so I can meet her gaze.

"Primrose, stop it!" I say vehemently, and she does what she is told, but a grin is still paying in her lips. I groan in response to the morning light invading our room, it's the rising sun, yet the birds are already chirping nonstop, roosters waking the early risers.

"Today is a very special day," she drags the word special, my mind remains a bit numb from sleep and my entire body is trying to recover from the morning grogginess, a special day…

"Oh, yeah, it's my birthday," my realization coming aloud, I didn't even remember about it. Honestly, it's not important to me, but for some reason it is to Prim, like she count the days to such special date. "What is it this year? Another surprise party?" she shakes her head.

"Come on, I have something cool for you this year!" she bounces in the bed, her two braids and shirt tail flailing around.

I raise to siting position, feeling my muscle protest, begging for more rest, "Please little duck, behave," I chuckle at her antics, she pouts but remains firm about getting me out of bed. Sighing I get up and go to the bathroom to begin my routine as usual, it may be my birthday but it's no excuse to miss work. I Put my usual pale blue dress - that once was navy - black tights, navy shoes and conclude braiding my hair, then I descent the stairs.

Prim is nowhere at sight, and my gut tells me that she has some trick under her sleeve. I ignore the urge to search for her and go straight to the kitchen. I really hate surprises.

"Surprise!" they shout in unison. Prim, Gale, Rory, Greasy Sae and Haymitch – in fact the latter just mumbled. They throw confetti in the air and Haymitch blows a party horn with such enthusiasm that makes me snort.

Gathering all my strength and acting skills I let out a soundly, "Oh, my!"

I may hate surprises, but they put so much effort in it that I can't really ignore. There is orange juice, fried eggs, bacon, roasted corn, toast and most surprisingly of all, a cake. All of those items are true rarities for the ones that live in Seam, the poor side of our small province.

All rarities but the cake, however, speaks volume. The white and pink icing is intricate and there is only one person that I know that could have done such pastry…

"Hey, Catnip, are you there?" Gale snaps me out of my trance, everyone stares at me, who was staring at the cake with no reason, at least an apparently one.

"Yeah, sorry, just emotions running high I guess," my tone coming coyly, Gale doesn't miss the way that my eyes drift again to the cake for a brief moment. "Come on, let's eat, we have a long day ahead of us,"

Our banter is animatedly, very different from the usual gloomy morning in our home. Prim talks confidently with Rory, while Greasy Sae and Haymitch exchange some information about their business. Gale and I sit side by side, and I can feel him stealing glances at me. We eat almost everything, except for the cake, it remains intact, Haymitch states that the first slice is special – even though he doesn't know the reason himself – and I hear a collective groan when Prim gets the so called special piece.

Greasy Sae offers to wash the dishes for us and we all hurry ourselves to work. Gale getting his bow and axes ready for another hunt, Rory gathering his newspaper to sell in the square and Prim putting her red cloak and basket, ready to another round of visiting the elders resident of the Seam – although she does receive some request from the merchant area at times.

We take separate ways, Prim and Gale towards the inner part of the Seam, while Rory, Haymitch and I go for the merchant area. Soon the precarious houses of the Seam are being replaced in the horizon by stately and beautiful homes of the merchants, the wealthy and privileged ones that somehow ended up living in woods of Twelve. Most of them don't want anything to do with us, the brats of the filthy Seam, a place where the underdogs live, the ones that have to go to the claustrophobic and deadly mines in search for coal and gems for those beyond our borders.

The gems used to be a responsibility of the Thirteen, a province famous for their witches, but after King's attacked when the ruler of Thirteen decided to confront him for the throne. It only took one strike from the Kingdom's Capitol to swipe the magical province out of the map; it worked as reminder that no one could defeat the King and his cohorts.

Sometimes I have dreams about the Capitol, of a beautiful castle and melodic arias. At times I mistake such dreams for memories, but that is ludicrous since the Kingdom's Capitol is an astounding, dreadful, ominous place ruled by King Coriolanus Snow. I've never seen him in person but the few photos of him displayed occasionally in the newspaper that Rory sells shows a man with snake-like eyes and silver hair. A curious thing that got my attention once was the fact that he always wears a rose in his breast pocket.

Rory says goodbye when we reach the square, where many works are transiting, from the respected apothecaries, going through the rich merchants, to the simple household like myself. Haymitch mutters me a farewell when we reach the market entrance, he is looking forward to see who is interested in his new geese this month, since one of his goose laid a golden egg people pay him fortunes.

It doesn't take me long to get to the mayor's house. A three-story mansion that seems almost as a second home, almost, because I don't work so hard at mine like I do in his. I enter through the back door that leads to the kitchen; Leevy and Lavinia greet me ecstatically.

"Happy birthday!" they shout in unison, giving me hugs and kisses on the cheek. I smile at them and take my worn out apron from the hook in the stone of the kitchen.

"So, how are you feeling?" the red-haired Lavinia asks with her velvety voice.

"Normal?" I state doubly, not really sure of what she's asking.

"Come one! You turned sixteen, is big deal," Leevy intervenes, her face in scowl, she shares Seam treats with me, her olive skin and grey eyes, only her pitch-black hair differing our characteristics.

I shrug at her remark, "Not really, I still feel the same as yesterday,"

"That's good, I don't like people that change from night to day," a voice says from behind me. I turn in my heels to see Madge smiling sweetly at me. She is already in her school uniform, the navy-blue dress with naval collar and pleated skirt, her usual white tie hanging loose. From all the hugs and compliments from today, hers are the most contained, just a quick hug and a curt nod.

"Needing anything, my lady?" my voice betraying my attempt of teasing.

She rolls her eyes at me and the other girls laugh, Madge takes a sit in the kitchen island and takes one of the strawberries disposed in the glass tureen. Lavinia and Leevy resume their previous conversation while drying the silverware. I get the broom and start my usual sweeping round. The entire time I can sense Madge's eyes on me, she adores doing that, waiting for me to say something, because she knows how badly this annoys me.

She follows me when I go for the living room, still not saying anything; she takes the sit in front of the piano and starts strumming the piano keys. It's doesn't take me long to recognize the song, Madge for sure does not play fair, in matter of seconds my voice is filling the air, it's the meadow song, the only living memory that I've from my father. I remember only his voice singing me to sleep with this song.

When the song ends Madge stands, walks to me and says a barely audible, "Happy birthday," and then leaves.

She doesn't notice the way that my eyes are closed and a single tear escapes.

I massage my wrist, it's has been hours since I begin to scrub the floor, and only now I made it to the third floor, I usually don't have much time to clean the upper floor – where the mayor's room is – the mayor's wife suffers from chronic migraines, so she spends most of her time inside. And my cleaning is something that I take seriously, only stopping when I see my own reflection on the floor. Taking the bucket and brush, I descent the stairs just in time to see the first lady going to her room, it's has been a while since I noticed that she seems a bit weaker than usual.

The wooden clock in the hallway announces six in the afternoon and it's time for me to go. I decide to say goodbye to Madge, I knock in her doorway but she is nowhere at sight, in all honesty I am not a curious person, especially in what concerns other's business, but a bronze glint takes my attention.

It lies inauspiciously at top of Madge's dresser, a note in letterhead, the blazon of the second province. Odd, not that Twelve has any troubled relations with the other provinces, is that Two simply despises all the others, so why on earth would a letter from there been here, in Madge's room?

"This is not your business," I turn surprised to see her figure standing in the door way, "Did you read it?" her voice assuming the neutral tone, although her face show her clear reproach. I shake my head, looking away, like a kid when is caught doing something wrong. "Good, I wouldn't like to drag you into something that doesn't concern you," she finalizes.

"I just wanted to say goodbye, and thank you," my voice breaking at the last part, she is one of the few that knows how much this song is important to me.

"No need to thank me, today is your special day after all," her voice coming sweetly again. No real harm done I guess.

Descending the few steps of the small stair at the back of the house I decide to undo my braid already disheveled and messy, my hair falls in waves over my shoulders and its feels somewhat freely, even though I prefer it braided. It's being a usual tiresome day, the cool breeze grazing my face, making the skirt of my dress flow. People on the way to the square greet me, of course most of them work for the merchants – my fellow Seam neighbors.

I spot Gale waiting for me across the square, Rory at his side with his oversized cap falling in his eyes. I'm about to make my way to meet them when loud steps make their way in my direction, turning on my heels I get face to face with Peeta Mellark, he is panting and his face is flushed, his is wearing an elegant brown vest with an orange tie, his white shirt clung to his toned muscles – not that I stared, it's just a remark – in his arms a delicate bouquet of roses.

"I am glad that I could meet you, happy birthday," he stands his arms, handing the bouquet, I take a bit hesitantly until I see that they're not usual roses, but night primroses, the very own flower that my sister was named for.

"Lord Peeta, this is… very thoughtful of yours," my voice restrained from emotion, the last thing that he needs is trouble caused by me, and sure enough he already guaranteed that giving me this bouquet right in the middle of the town square, in plain daylight in front of the entire province.

"Please, you know that there is no necessity of titles or whatsoever between the two of us," he manages to blend disapproval and mischief in one tone, coaxing a timid smile from me.

"Sorry, Peeta," I correct myself, he smile brightly at me, "But in all honesty, this is too much, you already gave me so much today,"

"I do not know what you are talking about," he says too innocently, I tilt my head to the side and shoot him a knowing look, he bit his bottom lip, "Oh, you mean the cake…" he admits defeated.

"It would take a million life times for me to not recognize a frosting done by your hands," I say admiring the primroses, which are a good excuse to avoid his gaze and spare him from the sight of my blushing cheeks.

He shifts his weigh back and forth on his feet before asking, "Would it be inappropriate, to hug you?" I'm taken aback by his request. Yes, I do know Peeta Mellark for years now, we have become something akin to friends, but there was always a thin imaginary line draw between us that I was beyond afraid to cross. Physical contact was dangerously close to his line.

I don't even answer before his arms envelop me by the waist. I could say that was too intimate from his part, but my own arms have snaked around his neck, from all the hugs and compliments that I received today, his was the only one that made me crave for more. He kissed my loose hair before pulling away and I let a sonorous sigh escape my lips, just to see a grin form in his.

"You smell like the woods," his comment makes my cheeks burn even more.

"Stop that," I say, my tone coming unintentionally playful.

I spot his parents coming towards us, Mr. Mellark admiring something in the sky and Mrs. Mellark glaring daggers at me, that is my cue to leave. Peeta follows my gaze and sigh.

"I guess this is goodbye," he says shooting me a last glance, his blue eyes twinkling in front of me. Most merchants have blue eyes, but to me Peeta's seems to stand out, they look more bright and clear than the azure sky of summer.

"And by the way, I do love primroses, but dandelions still my favorites," my voice brave and steady. He beams at me, surely remembering a particular memory that we share.

He waves shyly while walking backwards to his parents, making faces when his mother taps his shoulder with her fan to get his attention, and for the first time in the entire day a real laugh comes out from my mouth. No surprise there, Peeta Mellark always makes me laugh.

However when I turn meet with the Hawthornes my smile falters, Gale is fuming, in his way of course, his lips pursed and eyebrows creased, grey eyes slightly narrowed.

"Are you ready to go?" his voice is steely and aggravated and I dare a look to Rory, hoping that my eyes can make the question for me, the small boy just shrugs. We start to walk, Gale glancing over his shoulders, following his gaze I see Peeta receiving a quiet scold from his mother and his father shaking his head tiredly. My grip in the bouquet tightens; I sincerely hope that he doesn't get in trouble because of me, again.

When I get home the place is silent and dark, I turn on some lights – electricity courtesy of the firth province – seizing the moment I decide to take a long shower and relax on the couch, stretching my sore legs. I keep admiring the primroses in the bouquet that I placed over the small coffee table. Prim will love them for certain, but frankly she would love anything that Peeta gives me, she adores him and he looks out for her. People could easily mistake them for brother and sister, as they share similar traits – both physically and character wise – and they often spend time together when she visits his old grandmother.

I start to play absentmindedly with the hem of my nightgown while thinking about Peeta, the sweet, gentle, chivalrous, good-natured noble lord that insists in courting me, a mere peasant. It all happened in the worst moment of my childhood, the province was facing major financial problems, thus affecting directly Sae, whose restaurant was still a simple tavern back in the day, we rationed food, water, light, basically everything. Haymitch was gone to solve some chores at the Capitol, leaving us to fend for ourselves.

It was close to Prim's forth birthday and we could barely afford for rice at home. At the time I was only nine years old and no one would hire me to any sort of job, not even the merchants were in a good financial condition to hire a kid. I was consumed by hopelessness, our birthdays were a constant reminder of mine and Prim's abandonment, of how our parents left at Sae's porch years two years prior, so I tried my best to make them bearable, but in that year all things were taking a turn to worse.

The memory is vivid in my mind. I was tired of hearing negative answers, sorry excuses and justifications for not being hired or been pitied because of my situation. I just gave up, no light in the end of the tunnel that I found myself in. I did not noticed that at some point in my search for work I came to end up in front of the bakery, the Mellark name painted in block letter at the façade. My tears were mingled with the rain droplets; my mind barely registered the sound of the chiming bell of the bakery front door.

And there he was. He had paper bag in his hands, he handed it to me, his nice outfit rapidly getting wet under the rain that poured under our province. He had a sad smile in face, "Why so sad?"

I gave him a worried look, kindness was something alien to me. I took a peek in the paper bag content, immediately the smell of fresh bread filled my nostrils. My heart constricted, and my eyes darted to the blond boy stranding in front of me, his blue eyes almost hypnotic.

As response I turned on my heels and ran…

Just in the middle of my little contemplation Sae appears, bragging about how the restaurant was crowded today, a few minutes later Prim appears, placing her basket next to the door and hanging her red cloak in our coat hanger, her awful tomcat Buttercup comes dashing to her feet, purring for attention, sometimes I regret not have drowned him when I had the chance.

"Are those primroses?" the look on her face says that I don't really have to answer, "From who?!" her features remain the same, all that she wants it's to shove in my face the obvious.

I groan and roll in the couch, burying my face in one pillow.

"Ahhh! This is so romantic, Katniss," she says dreamy, I don't even have to look at her to feel her giddiness.

"What is romantic?" Sae comes with a small plate towards us, the last piece of cake in it.

"Peeta Mellark gave primroses to Katniss!"

"Prim!" I shout from where I lay, she giggles and Sae shakes her head.

"That boy likes to play with fire," Sae states mockingly.

I look up to her, "I told him to not do anything, his mother wouldn't understand,"

"Oh, I wasn't talking about his mother," confusion clouds me, "The one who is going to burn him is you," she laughs soundly and Prim joins her, I shove my face back in the pillow. What supportive family I have. "Here, make a wish,"

I lift my face again to see that she has lit a candle on top of the cake.

"Don't waste it, you only got one per year," Prim reminds me.

What could I possibly wish for? I may not have a comfortable life, not enough money sometimes, food is scarce, but I'm happy, Prim is happy, so there is not much that I can hope for.

So I wish for things to keep like this. Simply like that.

"Are you sure about this?" the woman asks impatiently, "that this… ordinary girl, is the princess?" she struggles to wrap her mind around this.

"Yes my lady, this is the late king's mockingjay," the mirror spoke to her.

The woman let a groan escape, how could a mere servant in the middle of the poorest province be the rightful heir of the throne of the kingdom? How could possibly neither her nor King Snow found about this before.

Sure, she only figured this thanks to the girl's wish.

Wishes have a dim magical energy that rarely survives to come true, but the girl in question made a wish that shone brightly, capturing the woman's attention.

"It's doesn't matter though, not right now, I've more important things to deal with," she paced around the chamber, angry at her new discovery, the resurgence of the princess was unexpected and thrown a curveball in her plans.

The mirror kept observing his owner furious pace, afraid to have the same demise that the others of his kind that served her before – shattered on the floor.

She turns again to the mirror, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

"Mirror mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"

A/N: Needless to say that I do not own The Hunger Games, or any fairytale for that matter.

This has been an old idea playing on my mind, maybe was the Once Upon a Time marathon that I watched, but the thing is that fairytales are always fun and catchy.

All similarities with existent children's literature characters are not coincidence.
You can check the poster for the story in my tumblr: teawsugar