this is a fanfic about Prim going into the arena instead of Katmiss, and the fiendiship she makes with Peeta (who still loves Katniss)


Peeta and Prim: returning home


Ten minutes until the train pulls into district 12 station, and I’m freaking out. I want to be in the arms of my mother and sister more than anything, but I’m terrified of what my future in 12 will be like. I will be living in one of the massive homes at the victor’s village, will have more money than I need, and not have to go to school anymore. I am only twelve, and I’ve had to deal with more in the past three and a half weeks, than most of the other children in district 12.

But I guess what I’m most scared about is having to face Peeta’s family, no doubt they will all be wishing it was me dead instead of him.

Soon the familiar trees and mountains pass us. The train starts to slow; I can feel my stomach rolling with queasiness. Heymich stands by my side as the train halts to a stop.

“Relax, prim”, he warns. I don’t respond, just nod. I can see that a very large gathered crowd outside the tinted window. They are all cheering and pointing.  I guess a winner from district 12 isn’t something they have experienced since Heymich won. The train door slides open; everyone in the crowd cranes their neck to get a look; I step out into the doorway.

They all erupt into cheers and clapping. All of them calling my name, and even a few of them are weeping for me. I hold up my hand and give a feeble wave to them, and I attempt at a smile. Cameramen and reporters elbow each other out of the way to reach me. They babble over each other, trying to get my attention.

I ignore everything, and look around for them. I see them both far down the end of the platform, waiting patiently. As they catch my eye, I release the tears I have been holding onto, and break into a smile. I step off the train, and make my way over to them. The crowd all parts to the side, letting me go to them. I break into a run and launch myself into my sister’s waiting arms. I wrap my arms around her like a vice and she squeezes me tightly; stroking my hair.

“It’s ok, it’s ok”, she whispers in my ear. “I’ve got you, no one will hurt you”. The tears really start flow. She puts me down, but I don’t let go of her. I can hear cameras clicking and reporters asking questions, but I completely tune them out completely.

Katniss pulls away from me and holds my face between her hands. I can see that she is tearing up as well. I feel a warm pressure on my arm, I turn and see my mother with her hand on my arm; she too, is crying.

I don’t jump into her arms like Katniss, but she staggers back a bit as I lunge into her arms. She holds me in her arms—rocking me—for about two minutes. She pulls in Katniss, and we share a group hug. I break apart from both of them, and notice how happy they are. This is the first time since the reaping that I have felt bliss; I know it won’t last. But I savor it.

Another group of people push their way forward, it’s the hawthorns. Gale is at the front. I reach out to him, and he scoops me up into his arms.

“Good job Prim”, he whispers to me. He sets me down on my feet and steps back. (A real crowd has gathered around me, and the reporters are really trying to get a word in). Rory steps forward. He looks the same as ever; dark hair, tall frame; but in the past three weeks he has gotten a lot more muscle. We stare at each other for a few seconds, and then his mouth spreads in a wide smile.

But without warning he looks back, reaches into the crowd and pulls out our friend Violet with him.

“Prim”, her breaths.

I pull the both into a hug, and they wrap their arms around me, and mine around theirs; with my head resting on their shoulders. I Iook past them, and see that Gale has his arm around Katniss’s waist. They must have gotten closer in the past weeks. Finally after our long hug, Violet and Rory pull back. Smiling.

The reporters finally lose their patience; one of them lurches forward and shoves a microphone in my face. My first instinct is to dodge the object coming my way. I jump back from him. He doesn’t seem to notice my reaction.

“So Prim”, he asks loudly in his ridiculous capitol accent. “How do you feel about being home?” In that instant, the bliss feeling in wiped out and replaced with the usual feeling of dread and depression. I don’t want to answer his question, but I’m being recorded on camera so I have to.

“Um, fine I guess”, I answer sullenly.

Many more reporters come forward to ask questions, I answer as monosyllabic as possible. The district 12 mayor steps forward, shakes my hand, and congratulates me on my victory. He must be thrilled about having a district 12 victor. As he is talking, I look past all the people in the crowd, and see a group of four people. And they are defiantly not celebrating; it’s Peeta’s family.

The baker has his wife in his arms; I can see that she is crying by the way her body is shaking. The brothers aren’t crying, but they are looking on the verge of tears. Peeta’s casket is taken out of the end of the train by a worker, and wheeled to his family. They all take a handle on it and carry it away.

No one except me has noticed this scene. The mayor finishes his speech by saying, “and our thanks go out to Peeta Mellark, who gave his life for this girl”. My stomach painfully rolls as he says this.

“Come now, prim”, says the mayor. “Bring your family; we’re showing you to your new home”.