#seneca village

[ekute-ile]

Book 38, 2022: 'Moon and the Mars ' by Kia Corthron.

1800s. Seneca Village. Five Points district, Manhattan. New York.

Story of America's slavery, race, women, colonialism, civil war, elections, depression through the eyes of the Black and Irish Theo.

Weltanschauung.

[arieso226]

Seneca Village

NO. 1

The history of Seneca Village is fraught with history, opportunity, and endurance against racism and white supremacy. In 1825, a ‘‘25-year-old African American shoe shiner named Andrew Williams bought land in the middle of Manhattan, two years before slavery was abolished in New York. More free Black Americans followed, fleeing the disease and discrimination of downtown, and together they created the bustling settlement. The village was home to the most significant number of African American property owners in NY before the Civil War. Because those black men possessed property, they were allowed to vote. Irish and German immigrants could also live there, and white and black churchgoers often side-by-side.

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NO. 2

As you can see, Seneca Village was a thriving community, living far from the dense population of downtown, despite NY's abolition law in 1827, discrimination severely limited the lives of the African-American populace. Seneca Village provided access to more space from the unhealthy and crowded conditions of the city. ''By 1855, there were 52 houses in Seneca Village. On maps of the area, most of the houses were identified as one-, two-, or three-story houses made out of wood. Archeological excavations uncovered stone foundations and roofing materials, indicating that they were well-built. Some of the houses were identified as shanties, meaning that they were less well-constructed. Land ownership among Black residents was much higher than that in the city as a whole: more than half owned property in 1850, five times the property ownership rate of all New York City residents at the time. Many of Seneca Village's Black residents were landowners and relatively economically secure compared to their downtown counterparts in the Little Africa neighborhood by Greenwich Village.''

NO. 3

Unfortunately, Seneca's village’s demise had to do with the construction plans of what the settlement is today, Central Park. William Cullen Bryant, ‘‘the editor for the New York Evening Post at the time, and Andrew Jackson Downing, an English landscape architect, started the park project together. The Special Committee on Parks was formed. They surveyed possible sites before selecting Seneca Village, even getting NYS officials to legislate the Central Park Act in July 1853, authorizing a board of five commissioners to start purchasing land and creating a fund to raise money and donations for the plan. Before the acquisition of Central Park, Seneca Village was referred to with derogatory and racial slurs. Advocates for Cental Park used the media to describe Seneca Village and other communities like them as ‘‘poor squatters living in shanties’’.

NO. 4

The residents fought against the city’s planning as they were legally entitled to do so as landowners. But the Central Park Act set aside the 775 acres of land in Manhattan from 59th to 106th streets between 5th and 8th avenues to create the country’s first major landscape public park. ‘‘There were roughly 1,600 inhabitants displaced throughout the area. Although landowners were compensated, many argued that their land was undervalued. Ultimately, all residents had to leave by the end of 1857.’’ The settlement was discovered in 2011 when archaeologists from Columbia University uncovered artifacts such as an iron tea kettle, a roasting pan, a stoneware beer bottle, fragments of Chinese export porcelain, and a small shoe with a leather sole and fabric upper. This article is dedicated to the people of Seneca Village and other ‘Little Africa’s’ settlements all over this country that historians and archaeologists are finding in recent times who have continuously fought against the struggles of race, class, and economic opportunities that this country’s governmental systems continuously try to sweep aside.

Artifacts and Archives: The Rediscovery… | Central Park Conservancy (centralparknyc.org)

[panafrocore]

The Lost History of Seneca Village: A 19th-Century African American Settlement in Manhattan

Seneca Village holds a significant place in the history of New York City, as it was a 19th-century settlement that stood as a testament to the resilience and aspirations of its predominantly African American landowners. Nestled within the future grounds of Central Park, this vibrant community emerged as the first of its kind in the city, carving out a space for freedom and prosperity in the face…

[myobt]

Repost: Seneca Village

Continue reading Repost: Seneca Village

[jack-kellys]

today i am going to take the train to the exact point in central park where michael ahomka-lindsay headcanoned jack’s family grew up. and no one can stop me

[erik-powery-for-america]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CvC17jFonVx/?igshid=MTc4MmM1YmI2Ng==

[000-pawz]

" fantasy romance tropes " bnd series masterlist °｡⋆⸜ 🪽♡🪄

coming soon!

a/n: i was listening to dawn in the adan by ichiko aoba and got inspired to start a series! i barely see any fantasy stuff on here and i'm a big lover of it so here this is :3 <3 (p.s. there won't be an order to posting! it'll be random >3<) i tried to put my own spin on these tropes, so i hope you guys look forward to them! <3

"bloom for me" - sungho x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

angel sungho x human!reader | modern-day au, forbidden love, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

"sungho has been assigned to be your guardian angel, to look after you from afar, and to make sure you stay out of harm's way. the only rules? don't get too close and never interfere with true fate. but when you find yourself in a dark place, unsure of whether life is truly worth living, sungho finds himself unable to simply sit around and watch you fall apart. he wants to show you the light; even if he must sacrifice everything he has even known for it."

"night life stars" - riwoo x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

elf!riwoo x human!reader | old fantasy au, forbidden love, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers

"growing up, you've always been told to never pass the flower field in the woods and to stay far away from elf territory because everyone knows that elves are the most violent creatures in the forest. one summer, a drought spreads throughout your village, and while fetching water from a stream in the woods for your family, you end up slipping and hitting your head on a rock. when you finally wake up, your eyes immediately lock on to a pair of glimmering green ones. eyes that belong to the enemy itself."

"safest sounds"- jaehyun x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

hybrid!jaehyun x human!reader | modern-day au, hybrids & humans, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, living together

"after another tiring day at work, you're walking back to your apartment when you hear soft cries coming from an alleyway. with your undeniable curiosity, you go to find the source of sound—and much to your surprise, you find an abandoned hybrid curled up in a ball, shivering from the cold. with a promise to take him to a shelter when the sun rises, you let him come home with you so he can eat and have a warm place to sleep for the night. in the morning, though, you discover that this hybrid has already claimed you as his owner."

"seneca" - taesan x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

magic!taesan x non-magic!reader | modern-day magic, rivals to lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort

"han taesan. the bane of your existence. he's been your academic rival at your boarding school ever since you transferred a few years ago, and you have despised him ever since. on your way home one day, you end up encountering some people looking for trouble. in the blink of an eye, taesan is there to help you get away, but something is off. might it be his glowing hands and eyes? no, no, no. you must only be imagining things... but taesan's threat to keep everything a secret says otherwise."

"dance on the moon" - leehan x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

mermaid!leehan x human!reader | pirate au, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, hidden love

"there's nothing more that you hate than working as a maid on this deck. your captain and crew are worse than scum and you miss home every day, but you must do as they say if you want to survive. one stormy night, the crew catches a mermaid in their net while in the pits of the sea and your captain declares to sell him on the market as soon as they reach land. but when you become tasked to watch over the poor mermaid every night, you end up promising to help him escape back to his home. maybe he could find a way to help you escape too."

"seek for warmth" - woonhak x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

vampire!woonhak x vampire!reader | vampire au, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

"woonhak never asked to be a vampire; he never wanted to live a life he didn't choose and be cursed to live forever. thankfully, there's another fledgling in the coven who sees the light still shining in his undead eyes. you're there with him through the insatiable hunger and the yearning for a past he never had the chance to live, holding his hand through it all. eventually, he begins to find solace in your warmth despite his fingers being cold to the touch."

masterlist

[campodefiori9]

American Robin selects the wrinkly ,maybe fermented berry. Seneca village ,Central park.

[whencyclopedia]

George Washington

George Washington (1732-1799) was an American military officer and statesman who led the Continental Army to victory during the American Revolutionary War (1775-1783) and served as the first President of the United States (1789-1797). Often regarded as the ‘Father of His Country’, Washington remains one of the most revered and iconic figures in U.S. history.

Early Life

George Washington was born at 10 am on 22 February 1732 at Pope’s Creek plantation in Westmoreland County, Virginia. He was the first of six children born to Augustine Washington, a wealthy Virginian landowner, and his second wife Mary Ball Washington; George also had four older half-siblings from his father’s first marriage. Little is known about George’s childhood. His early years were mostly spent on the family property of Ferry Farm on the Rappahannock River, and he likely attended school in Fredericksburg, Virginia, where he excelled in the subjects of geometry, trigonometry, and mapmaking. When his father suddenly died in 1743, 11-year-old George inherited Ferry Farm as well as ten enslaved people. Too young to fend for himself, he went to live with his eldest half-brother, Lawrence Washington (b.1718), at Mount Vernon. George idolized Lawrence, who he came to regard as both a father figure and a best friend.

George’s aptitude for mathematics led him to consider a career as a land surveyor, a respectable path to wealth and social advancement. In 1748, at the age of 16, he embarked on his first expedition into the Shenandoah Valley to survey the property of his influential neighbor, Thomas Fairfax. The next year, he earned his surveyor’s license and, through Fairfax’s patronage, was appointed surveyor for Culpeper County. Over the next three years, Washington completed 200 surveying expeditions and measured a total of 60,000 acres along Virginia’s western frontier. But just as George's career was taking off, Lawrence came down with tuberculosis. In November 1751, he went to the Caribbean island of Barbados in the hopes that the tropical air would improve his condition. George accompanied him, and contracted a painful case of smallpox during his brief stay on the island. George soon recovered but Lawrence was not so lucky, as he died shortly after returning to Virginia in 1752. After his brother's death, George started leasing Mount Vernon from Lawrence’s widow and became the legal owner of the property after her own death in 1761.

In 1753, George Washington reached the age of maturity, and was eager to find a way to make a name for himself. He would soon have an opportunity. The French had begun to construct forts on the forks of the Ohio River, fertile territory that had been claimed by Virginia. In November, Washington was sent as an envoy to demand that the French vacate the Ohio Country at once. On his journey into the west, he was joined by Christopher Gist, an experienced frontiersman and guide, and Tanacharison, a Mingo chieftain called the ‘Half-King’ by Virginians. It was Tanacharison who gave Washington the Seneca name of ‘Conotocaurius’ or ‘Devourer of Villages’, in reference to Washington’s great-grandfather, who had helped expel Native Americans from their lands in Virginia. The small party reached the French Fort LeBoeuf during a snowstorm; although they were received cordially by the fort’s commander, Washington’s demands were firmly rebuffed. Washington then embarked on his trek back to Virginia which included several perilous episodes. While crossing the icy Alleghany River in a raft, Washington fell overboard, and likely would have drowned had Gist not pulled him from the water.

George Washington as a Land Surveyor

Henry Hintermeister (Public Domain)

Continue reading...

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

i’m currently re-reading the hunger games for the first time since literally middle school and i have so many thoughts.

a. haymitch is so much worse of a drinker in the books like i forgot how genuinely incoherent and essentially useless he is at first

b. i forgot how young katniss is. i feel like it’s hard to keep in mind that she’s 16 in the movies and still a child throughout the series and i find it so heartbreaking that someone so young is forced into providing for her family, fighting to the death, leading a rebellion, etc. it could also be the fact that i’m older than her character now and i’m looking back and realizing how immature 16 year olds are as opposed to when i was like 11 and thought they were basically adults.

c. omg my heart breaks for everyone in the series. the only stand out characters i can really think of who i don’t have any sympathy for are seneca crane, snow, and coin. like the lesser-regarded deaths are the careers’ (that is everyone sympathizes with thresh, rue, reaper, jessup, basically everyone in tbosbas but people are less inclined to sympathize with the careers). i find their deaths so tragic because they thought they were going to go home. clove and cato wanted to go home together just like katniss and peeta did.

d. one of my favorite additions to the movie is thresh’s almost brotherly relationship with rue. because in the books katniss mentions that he never really even took an interest in his district partner (rue obv; but ofc she only saw them at training so we don’t really know) but in the movies, when rue steals that knife, thresh looks at her like proudly and omg my heart. like obviously thresh cared about rue because he killed clove and spared katniss but that small addition makes me smile every time. and because he was such a good person his death kills me. reaper too. they both cared so much and were much better people than the capitol. district 11 were raising their children right.

e. my heart breaks for peeta in particular. he is such a good fucking person and i feel like no one returns it in the way he deserves. he gives and gives and gives to his family but it seems like they give absolutely nothing in return. like his mom having no faith in him and then (if i remember correctly) they don’t even come to live with him in victors’ village

f. i’ve ranted about this before and this doesn’t pertain to og hunger games + i’m referencing the movies but i hate the ending of mockingjay. when katniss is screaming at buttercup that prim is gone? omg the anguish i feel for katniss. she lost everything. the fact that she just lives right next to the decimated remains of her former district? what? like yes she has peeta and they have kids but it feels very “last two people on earth” to me and that seems like such a tragic life.

g. this is such an unjust, unfair, cruel series but it’s so good

[phoenixyfriend]

There's a mass grave in Wash Square Park?

Oh yeah, most parks in NYC were built on some kind of graveyard, but Washington Square Park is particularly infamous for it. It was built directly over a potter's field, as were Madison Square Park and Bryant Park. These days, Bryant Park's history is colored more by the reservoir, especially since, while there were thousands of bodies, they were moved in 1840. Meanwhile, Madison was only a graveyard from 1794-1797, mostly for those dead of yellow fever, and there are "only" a few hundred bodies there.

The land that would become Washington Square Park was a potter's field from 1797 to 1826, coming into use as Madison was phased out. At that point, the area became a military parade ground.

There are some 20,000 bodies under the park. Some excavations have identified gravestones from 1799. The bodies are still there, and there are thousands of them.

(Other parks have other horror stories, like the destruction of Seneca Village making way for Central Park, but like I said, Washington Square Park is infamous for it due to the sheer number and concentration of the dead.)

[cyarskaren52]

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blackinformationnetwork

For today’s lesson, we're uncovering the history of Seneca Village, a vibrant community of predominantly Black American landowners in 19th-century Manhattan.

#BINBHM #BlackHistory101

[soulsbleedink]

𝙎𝙀𝙉𝙀𝘾𝘼 | 𝙍𝘼𝙔𝙇𝘼 𝙓 𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙐𝙈

Prompt: [Written while listening to Seneca by Novo Amor!] Rayla's been on a mission and she misses Katolis, specifically the high mage. So she decides to pay them all a visit, namely Callum.

Warning[s]: None! It's all fluff :D

Pairing: Rayla x Callum

Word count: 1.7k

masterlist

i just had to write some rayllum, i was losing it, and they were going to get my sanity back /j. but really, i love them sm, theyre so precious, so of course! i know rayla may seem a bit soft, so i'm sorry- i'm not extremely good at writing her character, yet. anyways, my beloveds <3 have fun reading!!

Rayla’s footsteps were soft but agile as she sped across the acres of dirt, inching closer to the land where she’d first met Callum. She stopped to catch her breath, her gaze caught on the looming castle of Katolis. With a slight bounce to her step, she tread forward. Upon entering the streets that led up to the castle gates, she was quite happy to find that no one paid any attention to the fact that she was an elf. Life buzzed around her, the heady smell of baked goods lingering in the air, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips at the soft sounds of children giggling flitting in from a side street. 

Just a bit farther were the castle gates, and the village was further back, now much quieter. The breeze whispered in her ears and before her hand could touch the rough wood of the door, it slid open, just a crack. And a certain blond appeared between the cracks, his eyes piercing her soul, but then they softened.

“Rayla!” Soren reached out for her and she braced herself for a bone crushing hug, and bone crushing hug she got. His arms wrapped around her torso and lifted her into the air, all air knocked out of her lungs. 

“Soren, put me down…” She mumbled, barely wheezing the words out. And slowly, her airways weren’t so restricted anymore. When her feet touched the ground she almost considered kissing it for a moment. She inhaled as much air as possible. 

“What brought you here?” Soren asked, walking back into the castle grounds, Rayla beside him.  She let her eyes gaze over the rough stone walls, the passing workers, the baker she only briefly remembered, or did she even—Now was not the time. Opeli was walking next to him while he carried a tray of jelly tarts, a smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, I just wanted to visit Ezran,” She said, as if that was the full reason, but then again she wasn’t entirely lying. 

“Oh, I know it’s about Callum.” Since when had Soren gotten so good at reading minds? “It’s written all over your face.” 

Rayla huffed, but warmth crawled up her neck at the mention of the high mage. She refused to agree or disagree, hoping it would fly past him. Well, it didn’t. The next time she looked up at him, he was wiggling his eyebrows and his armour clanged loudly when he shoulder-bumped Rayla. But the murderous expression on her face was apparently something he wasn’t scared of, because he laughed out loud, his laughter a burst of joy swept away with the breeze when he finally quieted down. She sighed, she didn’t hate it, not truly; at least. Some part of her kind of wanted to have that every day, little moments of joy with her friends, and him. 

“Woah, you look like you’ve missed him,” Soren said, the lightest tint of laughter still threatening to spill over the threshold of his mouth, Rayla grunted. “Dare I say heart eyes?”

She was ready to swing a joking punch but from within one of the doors leading into the main castle a head of brown curls appeared, his stark red attire and silver crown always noticeable in the gleaming sunlight. Ezran turned around, his blue eyes fixating on Rayla and the biggest smile she’d seen in so long sliding onto his face. He didn’t waste a second longer when he made a beeline straight for her and sped over the rough stone, Bait trying his hardest to keep up with Ezran’s gait. 

“Rayla!” He jumped into her arms, and she caught him, hugging him as his hair tickled her chin. Bait grunted and she grinned down at him.

She let Ezran down, ruffling his hair, his crown now tilted. She reached down, fixing it. “How’ve ya been, Ez? Thought I’d visit you.” The grin on her face said it all. 

He smiled, letting the words linger in the air. “You don’t have to lie.” Apparently everyone here could read her like a book, and she was not having it. The sun was already beating down at her, and the heat collecting under her leather assassin attire was uncomfortable. 

“Who’s lying?” She asked, rather unconvincingly too, much to her own chagrin. But behind those words was a heart beating quickly within her chest, and her eyes wanting to stray towards a specific direction, up to the door that led into his quarters. And she just knew he was in there. 

“I won’t hold you back much longer, you can go, but thank you for visiting!” He said, cheery as ever. She didn’t acknowledge the first part of the sentence verbally but smiled anyway, catching his gaze once before she received a sharp jab between her shoulder blades, most probably from Soren. She grunted, stumbling forward and catching her pace. 

Her feet carried her across the remaining few steps, mind buzzing in a whole new dimension. She reached out, hand hesitating on the wood. Should she knock? Should she wait—When had she gotten so tentative? 

She wasn’t allowed the chance to ponder on that. The door slid open, creaking on its hinges. A familiar, far too familiar face appeared in the doorway. She smiled, well, she thought she did.

Because Callum didn’t change too much, again, of course he wouldn’t. It had only been a few weeks, and it should’ve been a few more; but her heart longed to be back at Katolis. The catalyst to everything. She missed Ezran and his jelly tarts, Soren and his jokes, and most importantly; Callum. Her high mage. 

“You’re a few weeks early,” He said, raising an eyebrow at her. But his tone didn’t sound like he minded one bit. 

She laughed. “Yeah, most of what they need is collected, thought I’d pay you a visit.” She shrugged. 

“Sure you didn’t just miss me?” He asked, teasing; of course.

She shoved him in the shoulder, playfully. He stumbled back, placing a hand over his heart, feigning disbelief and whatever heartbreak he could muster. She burst into chuckles, stepping inside when he beckoned her closer. 

Her eyes roamed the room. Trinkets scattered the tables, the shelves, even the walls. And fuzzy crimson curtains hung over the window, open so only just a sliver of sunlight was let into the room. She couldn’t blame him for that; it was hot. Or maybe it was her Moonshadow elf preference for cooler temperatures. Anyways, she didn’t linger on it. She walked over to a shelf with books, and ran her fingers over the leathery spines. 

“What a nerd.” She huffed in amusement. Then turned around when she heard creaking. Callum had sat down on a couch, smiling and shrugging. 

She tilted her head, making her way over and plopping next to him. He turned to her, eyes lingering on the books that she was touching a few seconds ago, but then those beautiful brown eyes were on her. And her breath hitched in her throat. Suddenly, the room felt warmer too. 

“Well, I need all the resources I can get to learn about magic, of course,” He started, his eyes never leaving her face, and she kind of wanted to curse him, “I’m literally the high mage!”

“I’m sure that even a wee elfling could tell that much.” She laughed. “I missed seeing that excited face of yours.” And your love for knowledge, about magic namely. 

“I missed you too, but where did sappy Rayla come from?” He asked, surprised for just a moment before his face fell back into that teasing amusement. “Are you the real one?” He raised a brow, placing a hand on his chin in mock scrutiny. 

“Am I?” She feigned confusion, but then he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. And she finally managed to meet his eyes for longer than a few seconds. 

They stared at each other, and he leaned closer, and she did too. But then they burst into fits of laughter, her head falling on his shoulder as he slapped her shoulder playfully. 

She truly did miss him, and being with him, and everything that reminded her of this place. 

“Thanks for getting back early, Ez was getting a bit lonely without Zym and Corvus around as often,” He mentioned, his voice muffled by her hair, the hum of his words lulling her into a comfort and peace that she related to being with Runaan and Ethari. 

“What about Soren?” She scooted closer, his arm going around her shoulder and pulling her head onto his shoulder. Then his head rested on hers.

“He’s been training, says he wants to be the best crown guard there is.” She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t look up, she stared at the sliver of sunlight on the wooden floor. It reminded her of him. He was kind of like sunlight, but in fleeting moments, in the early morning when it was a bit weaker, but it wasn’t so strong it made you feel like you were burning into a crisp. He was like sunlight that filtered through curtains, warmth that you could bask in, that made you feel like you were at home. He was the type of sunlight you got in autumn, the type you wanted to linger around, and the type you place your hand under and watch the shadows that form. She wasn’t ever really poetic, but for Callum? She could be, if she tried.

“He’s really dedicated—” He was saying, and she barely caught on, but placed a hesitant hand on his other one. He stopped, the words catching somewhere in his throat, and she could feel the quickening beat of his heart near her ear. Almost like it jumped to his throat. She didn’t stop the smile that graced her lips at the thought. 

“Ez deserves that, he deserves that love,” She mumbled. Faintly, she could feel the nod of Callum’s head against hers.

“He really does.”

“And so do you.” She didn’t know where that came from, but it made Callum’s heart beat even faster. The warmth creeped up her face and she cleared her throat, prompting him to laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest, up his spine, to her. 

She relaxed into his touch, fearing that if she spoke, she’d say something that she would cringe about later. So she let herself sit in silence, with him. Although it wasn’t really silent, he kept on talking. But she was content listening too. Especially when it was him. 

She liked listening to him. Or being with him, she guessed.

[petalsthefish]

Catching Fire

A/N: My January @jilychallengeis here one day late! My prompt was the song Devil's Backbone by The Civil Wars and my partner was the beautiful and talented @practicecourts!! Read my Hunger Games AU on on A03.

"Oh, Lord, what have I done?" she murmured, watching James stride away toward Victor's Village without glancing back. 

She had fallen in love with a man on the run.

Running from her.

Running from the capitol.

Running away from anything that brought him back into the arena.

It wasn't James' fault that he teetered on the edge of the hangman's noose. He had defied the Capitol, winning the games impulsively by leveraging his and Lily's relationship against Seneca Crane. Now, fate compelled them to be together, yet he behaved as though being in her company was the last thing he desired. Returning alive from the games seemed to have made him distant and Lily hated that she was now sleeping alone. 

“He regrets saving me,” Lily hissed as she sidestepped a mud puddle, “he must.”

Six months had passed since the Hunger Games, and Lily could scarcely recall what life was like before the ordeal. Now, she found herself alone, her sister's indifference evident as Petunia had never cared for her and perhaps had even hoped for Lily's demise in the games. Unfortunately for Petunia, Lily had survived, yet the one person who felt like family seldom directed their attention her way for more than a fleeting moment.

As he returned from his turkey hunting expedition in the woods, he unmistakably noticed her approaching along the road. She felt let down when he didn't pause to accompany her. In the initial three months since their return from The Hunger Games, James had rarely allowed Lily to step away from his bed. She’d spent many sunlit days hiding under the covers with him, only leaving to eat and present themselves to the occasional cameras. 

However, at present, he preferred brooding.

Lily followed James toward Victor's Village, where they cohabited with Haymitch and James' parents. Lily harbored a dislike for her residence, a place devoid of companionship, driving her to often choose a sofa near the kitchen for her sleep, finding solace in the act of baking. Baking became her refuge, a sanctuary to escape the haunting memories of the Hunger Games. Writing also became her pastime, and she spent her free hours chronicling the games from her perspective, concealing the records beneath a loose board in the living room.

Rather than heading straight home, Lily diverted her path to the house farthest away from the usual route. It had been a while since she last checked on Haymitch that morning, and a sense of concern tugged at her. The winding path leading to his residence was lined with tall trees, their branches reaching out like protective arms.

Approaching, the creaking of the porch swing caught her attention, sounding out of place, and a knot formed in her stomach. The wind picked up, promising a storm. The front door stood slightly ajar, sparking a flicker of worry within her.

“Haymitch?” she called.

As she approached, more details came into view. The scent of alcohol assaulted her nostrils upon entering the foyer. On her right, a flickering light emanated from the kitchen. Tracking its glow, Lily discovered Haymitch slumped over the table, inebriated and unconscious. With a sigh, she placed her bag of baked goods on the counter. Her next move was to check the fridge for any cheese; he'd have to wake up, eat, and sober up.

In a stealthy entrance, James remained so silent that she only became aware of his presence when a turkey landed with a thud on the table. "Hi, Lily."

Turning away from the fridge, Lily stared at James, clad in his deer hide jacket. She wanted to see his eyes, she wanted to feel okay again, and it would only happen if he looked at her the way he used too. The way she almost wanted to beg him too. However, his attention was not on her but on Haymitch.

"He's been like that since I arrived five minutes ago," Lily informed James. "I was in the middle of looking for cheese to pair–"

Interrupting her, James poured water from the nearby pail onto Haymitch's face. Startled, Haymitch jerked up in his seat, arms flailing, and a string of profanities escaping his lips. Unfazed, James placed the bucket down in front of the older man. Haymitch, realizing he's not in immediate danger, retaliated with a glare that could cut through steel.

"The cameras will be here in three hours," James warned him, his tone carrying a sense of urgency.

"I'm not the one who had to be on camera," grumbled Haymitch, his discontent evident as Lily began slicing into her freshly baked rosemary bread.

"Would you like some bread, James?" she asked politely, not lifting her gaze from her task.

"No, thank you," James responded a bit too hastily.

Haymitch chortled darkly, wiping his face with his shirt. "You two have some warming up to do before the cameras arrive."

"Speaking of that," James said, glancing around before addressing Haymitch, "we need to discuss our angle."

"What angle?" Haymitch smiled at Lily as she passed him a piece of bread smothered in cheese. "You're an angel, Lily," he added hungrily.

"The star-struck lovers angle," James suggested, "the one where Lily and I are in love."

“It's a good angle.” Haymitch said gruffly, “we’re not touching it.”

James winced, visibly. “Haymitch we need–”

“No James,” Haymitch snapped.

James startled them both by slamming a fist down, “I don’t want to be in love with her anymore!”

Lily stared at James as if he'd grown two heads. "You're–you’re not in love with me?"

"I-" James stammered, suddenly looking more like a deer caught across from his bow.

Suddenly, his previous cold demeanor made sense to Lily. All his pushing away, sleeping in his own bed with no invitations. He used to take her hunting with him and now, he wanted to be alone. Somewhere along the way, he'd fallen out of love with her.

Wait.

A rushing, swooping, unbearable thought entered her mind. What if, he'd never loved her? What if everything int he games had been an act, something he'd chosen to do to get home. They only got lucky that the game makers had stated the kids could go home together if they remained from the same district. That was when James had sought her out, made sure she stayed alive after Cato cut her leg open. 

She brandished her knife at him almost as a warning. "So, all those times in the arena – you were lying about loving me?"

"No!" James protested.

"Then why change the angle?" Lily demanded.

"I just wanted to get you home!" James screamed, surprising her, as he was normally so even-tempered. "I just wanted to get you home so you could live! I never planned on the Capitol viewing my act with the berries as defiance! I didn't think the districts would start rebelling–"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Haymitch cut in sharply. "What the hell are you talking about, James?"

James ran his hands through his hair, collapsing at the table in defeat. "Snow came to see me three months ago. He said the other districts were starting to show signs of rebellion. He claimed it was my fault because people don't think I really love Lily."

Lily crossed her arms, seeking clarification. "So, you are in love with me?"

James laughed miserably, sending her the saddest brown-eyed smile she'd ever seen. "I've been in love with you since we were kids, Lily. Of course, I wasn't faking it, but other people think we were."

"Other people can keep their opinions to themselves." Lily huffed, earning a warm look from James, the first one in a long time. 

"Did Snow ask you to stop seeing Lily?" Haymitch inquired carefully, refraining from touching any more of Lily's bread. 

In all fairness, she experienced a strong urge to vomit as well and didn't want any bread either. The timeline suddenly aligned—Snow speaking to James and James distancing himself from Lily. It had happened at the same time, three months ago. Somehow though, that wasn’t making her feel better.

"No," James sighed, rubbing his eyes. "He wants me to marry her."

Lily wondered if it was possible for a heart to stop working, but life to continue on. She swore it stopped beating the second those words fell from James’ lips. He had said it like…like the idea of marrying her was exhausting. Tears threatened to spill. She also considered chucking the knife at his head. 

"What's so bad about that?" Haymitch questioned.

“Yeah,” Lily asked coolly, “what is so bad about that?”

James gazed at Haymitch, a haunted expression in his eyes, refusing to look at Lily. "I've got a target on my back for what I did, Haymitch, and she'll have one too if I let her marry me."

"I don't care," Lily declared, her voice cracking as she stuck the knife on the table and walked around it to take James' sullen face in her hands. "Do you hear me? I. Don't. Care."

"He'll kill you, Lily," James croaked, looking up into her eyes. "He’d kill you to keep me in line.”

She refused to release his face to wipe her tears away. Her thumbs gently brushed down his tanned cheek, an attempt to soothe him, but his own tears continued to spill as he stared at her. The intensity of his gaze conveyed a sense that he was looking at her as if it might be the last time they would share such a moment.

Over her dead body would she let that happen, literally and figuratively. 

"I want to marry you," she declared sincerely, her voice carrying the weight of her emotions. "I'll never love anyone else except you."

As she spoke those heartfelt words, Lily could sense the gravity of the situation sinking in. The air hung heavy with a mixture of love and the impending danger that James had spoken about. Yet still, she was seventeen, plenty of girls her age got married that young in the Seam. Sometimes even younger, if a husband is desperate enough to start popping out baby’s for more food rations. 

“Lily.” James looked like he had the night she first said, ‘I love you,’ to him. Utterly helpless. “Don’t you want to do it on your own terms, not because we have too?”

"You have to get married," Haymitch said softly from his chair, his words carrying the weight of a harsh reality, "you won’t be able to wait long.”

“How quickly?” James asked.

“I’d say if you aren’t engaged by the end of the victory tour, one of you will be dead at Snow’s hand."

She didn’t know why she burst into tears at the thought. Lily felt James' hands come up, closing around hers in a reassuring grip. In one swift motion, he stood up, drawing her into a deep, passionate kiss. It wasn't the most technically perfect kiss they had shared, but it was undoubtedly the most emotional. As their lips met, he broke into a sob against her mouth.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his words muffled by the tender connection of their kiss. "This isn't how I envisioned us."

“I know,” she took deep breaths, trying to calm down, “I know you didn’t want this, want me, like this.”

“I’ll always want you, Lily Evans,” he said firmly, “but I wanted you with me by choice, not force.”

“I do choose you,” she argued, “I will always choose you, in this lifetime, and any others we meet.”

The weight of impending danger hung heavily in the air as James reluctantly pulled away from the kisses. Lily could feel the intensity of his emotions, a mixture of love, regret, and the looming threat that hovered over their lives. She wished they had been born somewhere else, anywhere else, so they could have lived a normal life together.

She didn’t even know what that meant, though; she just imagined something softer. A life where coal dust didn’t settle on everything, glasses were always filled, and holidays were filled with laughter. She envisioned it as James sang to her in the songs before sleep and as it was portrayed in the few banned books she managed to read from the seam.

Haymitch observed the scene, his eyes filled with a kind of sadness that spoke of experiences long-buried and sacrifices made. "You two need to make this believable. The Capitol is watching, and Snow won't hesitate to make an example out of you," he warned, his voice low and serious.

Lily nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She knew the Capitol played by its own twisted rules, and the consequences of defiance were severe. Still holding James' hands, she glanced into his eyes, silently conveying a shared determination to face whatever came their way.

“I shouldn't have chosen the berries.” He whispered, “I shouldn’t have played their games.”

"There wasn't a right or a wrong to choose in the Games," Lily gently withdrew her hands from his face and pulled him into a comforting hug. "You did what you had to do."

James's breath spilled against her ear as he embraced her back, his voice filled with a mixture of regret and longing. "Every time I look at you, I think about that moment and wonder how I could've gotten you out. I question if I should've sacrificed myself so that you could live, even if it meant living without me. I just don't want you to hate me for putting us in this predicament."

Lily gently pulled back, allowing her to peer into James's eyes. His gaze reflected a profound sense of brokenness, yet he didn't avert his eyes from hers again. "Give me the burden, give me the blame," she told him earnestly. "I don't want you pushing me away just to try and repent for something that's not your fault."

James's fingers slid up her neck, entwining in her red hair. "I wanted to shoulder the load, keep you from the shame, just in case I don't make it out of the next game."

"We never have to go back into that arena," Lily reminded him, her breath shaky. "All we have to do is mentor the new kids. You made sure of that, and I don't care if the districts think you were defying the Capitol. I don't care if no one believes we're in love. I love you, you love me, and we'll make it through whatever comes next together. President Snow can't hurt us now."

"Can't he?" James asked weakly. "He could make any one of our deaths look like an accident."

"And he will," Haymitch interjected, standing up to emphasize his point. "When you go on this victory tour, it won't end. Every year, with every new Games, Snow and the others will replay your story for the masses. They will bend and shape the rest of your lives to their will. They will control everything, from the number of kids you have to the hobbies you grow into. This doesn’t stop when you get off the train."

"What if we run away?" Lily asked Haymitch, shifting within James's arms that held her securely around the middle, keeping her close. "Go, live in the woods."

Haymitch's eyes remained void of emotion as he replied bluntly, "You'd be dead before you made it three miles."

"And if we don't do what Snow asks of us?" James inquired, a note of defiance in his voice. "What then?"

Haymitch gestured around his house miserably. "He'll kill everyone you love, or care about, and you'll end up just like me."

“Fuck.” James buried his face into the crook of her neck, breathing deeply into it. 

Lily's heart ached with a poignant sadness, recalling that Haymitch had once known the warmth of a family and the comfort of a real home. Now, all that remained were the empty bottles and their company.

"You have us," Lily gently reminded Haymitch, her voice carrying a note of compassion.

Haymitch lifted his moonshine bottle, taking a swig before reluctantly nodding. "For now." The weight of those two words lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the fragility of their makeshift alliance in the face of the Capitol's relentless control.

She used to pray to a God, like her grandmother had done before her. Lily wondered how many hail Mary’s it would take to set them all free. In the face of the Capitol's tyranny, she couldn't help but question whether the heavens were watching, whether their pleas reached beyond the confines of their oppressive reality.

Haymitch left them alone in the kitchen, heading upstairs to wash up in his single shower room. Lily made no move to leave James's arms, relishing the rare opportunity to feel the comfort and security he provided, a respite she hadn't experienced in months. He was her anchor, her safety net in the tumultuous sea of uncertainty.

"I missed you," she confessed, turning her head to plant a tender kiss on his scalp, reachable from her current position.

James responded by tightening his embrace around her middle, his nose nuzzling into her hair until his warm lips found solace on her neck. She raised one hand, tucking it against his head, cradling him beneath her ear.

"I'm sorry," he murmured between a cascade of kisses. "I am so sorry."

"For what?" she inquired, genuine confusion in her eyes.

He sighed, his breath warm against her skin. "You'll be guilty of inciting a rebellion by mere association with me, Lil."

"I don't care if we're found guilty," Lily asserted, summoning the courage to turn so they could be face to face again. "I don't care if we're not. We've all done good and bad things to get ourselves out of that arena."

James sniffled, his nose red from crying. "I should've killed myself and let you live. Then you would not be forced to marry me on someone else's terms."

"I would've married you, eventually," she said softly, her gaze unwavering. "I've been yours since the day with the bread."

His left hand slipped across her face. "But if I were dead, you'd be the only victor. The districts wouldn't see the berries as an act of defiance, and you'd be safe."

"If anything, I should've died," Lily argued, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "I don't have anyone. You have your parents, Sirius, and Remus. You're all that I've got."

"Then I guess we both should have died," he joked, their foreheads pressing together in a tender moment. “The star-crossed lovers from district twelve.” 

"Or maybe the Capitol will die," Lily sighed, brushing his hair back with a free hand.

"If you say things like that," he nipped at her nose playfully, "then we really will be meeting at the hanging tree. It's like this song my mum used to sing when she was weaving baskets…dad made her stop singing it around me...but I still remember it all."

"You've always had an ear for music." She nodded, "sing it for me, please."

James kissed her again, savoring the moment, before lightly pulling away to sing in a hushed tone, "Are you, are you coming to the tree, where a dead man called out for his love to flee…"

Lily's eyes fluttered open. "That's song is banned, you got detention for it once."

James tucked her hair behind her ear, a playful glint in his eyes. " Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be, if we met at midnight, in the hanging tree. "

"I don't like this song," Lily whispered, her voice barely audible. "I prefer the one you sang for Rue, before she died."

The glimmer of light in James's eyes dimmed at the memory of his little companion in the Games, before he and Lily had been reunited. "Snow said Rue's district is where the uprising started. He said my singing for Rue, and burying her in flowers, he said it was sacrilegious to pay her respect. That her death was the real honor."

Lily pouted, her discontent evident. "I don't see what's so honorable about killing kids like Rue and Thresh and Foxface."

“Yeah.” James sighed deeply and brought their foreheads together again. "I'm scared, Lily."

"Me too, James," she admitted honestly, her voice soft. "Me too."

“Stay with me tonight?” He asked tentatively, almost as if he were worried she’d say no.

“Every night,” she promised, “as long as you don’t let go of my hand during the day.”

“I can do that.” He wrapped his fingers against hers to show her he meant it. “You ready for interviews tonight?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

[gudvina]

Hayffie prompt - married in secret during the whole hunger games trilogy

The things I do to keep you near.

Ship: Effie Trinket/Haymitch Abernathy

Fandom: Hunger Games

Chapter 1: Wedding Bells.

Picks up after Sour Comments but both can be read as standalones!

can be read on AO3! <3

71st Hunger Games, reaping season.

District Twelve’s sweltering heat was heavy on Effie Trinket’s skin as she made her way to the Victors’ Village, taking in the blooming fields around it. Despite the heavy coat of ashes by the city the earth there seemed cleaner, with wildflowers and ivies taking over the village’s walls, making it look almost picturesque. It didn’t resemble any of the gardens she’d seen in the Capitol, even the ones meant to replicate perfect wilderness couldn’t quite catch the restlessness of that land.

She crossed the iron gates, trying to ignore the weight she felt in her chest. Another reaping. Another set of children sent to be slaughtered. Every year it was harder and harder to stomach, and the option of leaving it all behind her was always itching in the back of her mind. But she couldn’t.

And not only because of the usual mantra “once in the Games, always in the Games”. When she arrived at the door that seemed to await her every year she took a moment to sport her brightest smile, in case anyone was watching, and knocked. Chin up!

She heard a thud and a bit of rustling behind the door, which soon opened to reveal the one reason she couldn’t leave.

“Didn’t hear the hovercraft” he said, barely awake. His hair was dishevelled, there was a huge stain on his shirt that she suspected- and smelled- to be vomit, and the hand that leaned on the door frame held a bottle of some sort of spirit. A rush of tenderness swept through her and her smile sweetened. She was ridiculous, she knew, but she couldn’t help feeling oh, so happy just at the sight of him.

“Well, that’s not the polite way to greet guests, Haymitch! Come on, let’s get you ready, we have a big, big day ahead of us” she quipped, making her way in, successfully ignoring the unpleasant smell of the house.

She set down her bags on the floor, not trusting the sofa, and turned to him with a wrinkle of her nose. “Now, how about you freshen up? We don’t have the whole day, according to my schedule in four hours the stage will be ready!”

Haymitch was visibly embarrassed by the state of the house, or maybe his state, but he just grumbled something under his breath and went upstairs. He was aware that Effie would attempt to clean around, just like she had done all those years before, but it didn’t make it easier. At best, he used to be irritated by her misplacing his things, at worst, he used to hate that a Capitol would get to see his worst.

But there was never pity in her eyes, and slowly they’d learned to work around each other.

When he was finally presentable he went back downstairs, finding his house looking a lot less like a dumpster and a lot more like a house. He found a shapely shimmery piece of fabric on his armchair and followed the smell of coffee that led him to the kitchen.

She was leaning on the counter, her eyes on the brewer. “So, sweetheart, you found us someone other than Chip and Chop?”

“Name-calling is incredibly rude, Haymitch! And no, for your information Tulsia and Tallia are still our stylists. Seneca was not willing to drop them” she answered, trying to sound unaffected by the facts. She didn’t like their stylists any more than he did, but it would not do to dwell too much on it, especially since they were much better than the ones before. She had raged after the stunt of putting naked children on blast, no matter how hiding coal could be.

“Uh, what is it, boyfriend ain’t budging?” he sneered, knowing she didn’t like to be pressed about her relationship with the young Game Maker. They’d had a relationship in the early years of her escorting career, the power couple for every little Capitol girl who dreamed of marrying a man whose destiny was killing children for fun. Pictures of them in high school were flying around, and constant rumours of an upcoming marriage made waves through Panem’s scene.

All of that stopped when they broke it off, announcing to the press that they were still friends, but their lives were taking different directions and they still supported one another. If he hadn’t fucked her throughout the entire relationship, maybe Haymitch would have been shocked by the news as well.

She’d never told him what truly happened between them, though. Not even a hint. Crane still made her puppy eyes from across the room, that was enough to know that the split wasn’t mutual, but otherwise, he had no idea of what happened, nor did she offer any explanation. And he didn’t know if he wanted her to.

“He said he couldn’t find any interesting stylist this year, but he’ll press for the next”. She sighed, ignoring him to pour two cups of their coffee.

“Uhm, maybe you’re still salty he didn’t sail the wedding boat with you”.

“Why, Haymitch, it appears you know about me more than I do! Pray, any other insight?”

“Well, if you insist, princess, I happen to know exactly what might cheer you up” he smirked, letting his hand grab the soft flesh of her ass, pressing her against the counter. The soft moan she let out should have been illegal.

“Haymitch, behave, please” she whispered, but her voice was not convinced, and she suspected he could tell as well.

“Think you like it when I misbehave, sweetheart” he whispered, letting his hands wander over her body, relishing in the fact that she was wearing a dress that was airy enough to let him touch her bare skin under it. Her moans and the way she gripped the counter spurred him on, and he soon had his hands in between her legs, pressing soft circles in the sensitive flesh of her core.

She let out a soft ‘oof’ sound when he stopped his ministration, backing away a little to unbuckle his belt and free his shaft. Effie turned towards him, coffee forgotten, and got down on her knees, making quick work of taking him in her mouth, sucking him just the way he liked it.

He usually didn’t fuck her so early into the Game, but the previous year she had disappeared for half of the edition, and he truly wanted, no, needed to feel her around him.

Before he could lose it he gripped her jaw and pulled out, bringing her to her feet again. He kissed her hard, an angry battle of tongues and teeth, before pulling her legs up around his waist and pressing her onto the kitchen, sheathing himself inside her. She moaned greedily and held him tight, kissing the crook of his neck as his thrust picked up speed. She delighted in their reunion.

He couldn’t think of anything else but the softness of her against his hardness, and when her walls tightened he rode her orgasm, chasing his own. It didn’t take long. Her whimpers drove him wild and soon he was spilling inside her. He left soft kisses on the flushed skin of her collarbone, trying very hard to avoid leaving marks on her skin.

“And now you have to take another shower, I don’t know why I bother!” she started with her little sing-song tone, and he smirked, detecting the strain in her voice. Effie looked at him, his air was all over the place again. She didn’t dare move too much or touch him too softly, especially now that he’d already found his release.

After last year’s mishap, his behaviour had changed slightly. For years they’d shared mad, violent nights, taking each other any time they needed some solace from their realities, but gradually the violence had waned down a little to leave place for a connection she couldn’t quite name. She didn’t even dare admit it to herself, what he was for her. What she felt for him.

Haymitch didn’t move, deciding to keep playing with the soft skin of her chest, his stubble tickling her a little as she relaxed against him. Her eyes took in the kitchen, the golden summer light seeping through the window exposing the freckles of dust in the air. Time seemed to have stopped and she relished in that stillness.

Suddenly she felt him start to grab again at her skin, and despite his purpose in doing so all that did was bring her back to reality. “Haymitch, we need to leave in a few hours and, tell you that, I don’t want to be late”.

“When do you ever?” he groaned, pulling out of her as she took a handkerchief from the counter to clean herself up.

“Never, we need to decide what you’ll wear for today and make sure everything is ready before the Peacekeepers come to get us,” she said, and then continued for another while as she fretted about what to do and about what was the state of the clothes she’d bought him the previous year.

It was interesting to see her transform from Effie, the girl who’d just blessed his kitchen and ears with sounds that would be shameful even in a brothel, into Effie Trinket, the escort who needed to be on top of everything. He felt a lot for Effie. He didn’t get to see her much in the light of day, and missed her until her return, when the night brought down her wigs and masks.

In that moment Effie Trinket had taken over, and there was nothing he could do but get himself a drink and follow her lead.

***

Haymitch wasn’t drunk enough to deal with Tulsia and Tallia’s mindless chatter, so he got up and took a flask of alcohol with him. The two did nothing but talk about the same three subjects in rotation, their voices overlapping because supposedly “twins have a special connection” and fuss over what might happen at whatever event. The children had retired for the night, a boy and a girl of twelve. This year, much more than the year before, it was hopeless. At the very least the girl was cute enough that some sponsors might just take pity on her, but he wasn’t even sure they’d survive the bloodbath.

He moved through the train’s carts, before finally coming to the one he was directed to. He entered and knocked on the door of the compartment he knew she was in, waiting for her to open. The soft padding of bare feet against the carpet could be heard behind the wood panel and then she appeared before him; no wigs, no makeup, just her in a nightgown.

“Haymitch, it’s incredibly late and I’m about to settle for bed. What is it?” she whispered, looking behind him in case there were waiters around. But the train had stopped for maintenance in District 7, and they were all slaving after the twins’ whims.

It took a while for him to answer, transfixed by the golden tresses crowning her visage. He knew he was about to do something stupid, but when she looked like herself being stupid didn’t sound so bad.

“I want to take a walk, come with me and bring matches” he whispered, before disappearing into another compartment where he stole a loaf of bread. Maybe last year’s absence had gotten under his skin more than he cared to let on. A part of him was screaming that it didn’t matter, that she was free to do what she wanted, and this wouldn’t change anything. But his madness for her won over any common sense.

Maybe twelve’s traditions had some meaning. Maybe it would influence something. He was mad. And drunk.

He stepped outside the train, putting on his best show by slurring to Peacekeepers that he wanted to take a walk, disappearing right outside the stations where an expanse of wood met his tired eyes. Good.

He didn’t dare step too far, just enough to be hidden by the guards, and sat down on the ground.

A bat of an eyelash and a worried mention of appearances was enough for Effie to convince the guards to let her search for him on her own. What was wrong with her, she wondered. Why did she always follow him around? But she couldn’t help it, she was curious and even though the humidity made her gown cling to her skin she stepped outside, searching for him.

Her eyes surprisingly adapted to the darkness, and soon she found him sitting on the ground, holding something between his hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Give me the matches”

Effie hesitated, but she couldn’t detect his expression, so she gave him the matches. A few minutes later he’d lit up a small fire, and her eyes took a minute to adjust to the light. When she took a better look at him his expression was unreadable, but his eyes were set on something, and now she saw that what he was holding was a small loaf of bread that he was trying to toast on the fire without burning himself.

She was stunned into silence, looking as he turned it around.

Then he held it to her.

“Can you toast it a little better for me?” he asked, slightly amused by the confusion on her face.

Her brow furrowed, but she took it and did as he asked, turning the loaf to make sure it wouldn’t toast too much. She didn’t understand, the train had a toaster that got the job done quite well; there was no need to scamper about in the cold of the night. And yet she couldn’t stop herself, concentrating her energies on the task at hand. Of his drunken acts up, this was by far the least harmless. After all, he’d been almost polite.

When she was satisfied with the golden crust she returned him the bread, enjoying the warmth of the fire, when he surprised her once more. He took the loaf and broke it into two pieces, setting his half on his lap before placing the other half in her hands with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“Cheers!” he smirked and took a bite, his eyes fixed on her.

“I’m sorry?”.

“Eat the bread and shut up, Princess”.

“But… did you put something in the bread?”

“What, you wanted butter?”

“I- no, I… is this a joke?”

“What?” he asked, worry creeping on him. Did she know? He didn’t think Escorts required knowledge of the districts they’d take on, but still, if she knew…

“You force me, a lady, outside in the middle of the night to toast some bread when there are perfectly good toasters inside the train. It sounds like a joke, doesn’t it?”

Relief. She didn’t know.

“It tastes better like this, this is why I left you the other half, to be proven right. Now eat the damn thing and shut up” he shrugged and took another bite of the delicious bread. Avoiding danger had never felt so rewarding.

She looked at him, confusion still taking over her features, but did as he asked. They both ate in silence, listening to the sounds of the night, the cackling of the fire, and the station workers doing their job.

When they were done Haymitch got up, moved closer to her, still sitting on the ground, and grabbed her waist as he let their lips meet in a chaste kiss, where he could still taste the bread. He interrupted it before any of them could turn it into something more.

“Let me put out the fire and we’ll be out of here”.

It wasn’t a fancy thing, and she didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he hoped it would do the trick. Good luck on leaving him, now that she was his wife.

They returned to the train station with much fanfare from her and incoherent slurring from him, the usual show. When inside, he waited a few minutes to join her in her compartment, curling around her small frame and holding her close. If he was lucky he might be rewarded for his troubles in the morning, but for the night he was content with just holding her, lulled to sleep by her soft breath and the faint smell of peaches on her skin.