imperfect fit ; an everlark au based off of 'the selection' series

f i f t y - t w o

The last thing I expect when I walk through my door is the smattering applause from my maids.

I stand there for a moment, genuinely moved by their support and comforted by the shining pride in their faces. Once they finish making me blush, Tig takes me by the hands.

"Well said, miss." She gives me a gentle squeeze, and I see in her eyes so much joy over my words, for a second, I don't feel as awful.

"I can't believe you did that! No one ever stands up for us!" Stacy adds.

"Peeta has to pick you," Annie cries. "You're the only one who gives me hope."

Hope.

I need to think, and the one place I can really do that is the gardens. Though my maids are insistent that I stay, I leave, taking the long way, down a back stairwell on the other end of the hall. Besides the occasional guard, the first floor is empty and quiet. It feels more like the palace should be bustling with activity, given how much as happened in the last half hour or so.

As I pass the hospital wing, the door flies open and I run right into Peeta, who drops a sealed metal box. He groans after we collide, even though it really wasn't that hard.

"What are you doing out of your room?" he asks, slowly bending to pick up the box. I notice it has his name on the side. I wonder what he's storing in the hospital wing.

"I was going to the gardens. I'm trying to figure out if I did something stupid or not." Peeta appears to be having a difficult time standing up.

"Oh, I can assure you it was stupid."

"Do you need help?"

"No," he answers quickly, avoiding my eyes. "Just heading to my room. And I suggest you do the same."

"Peeta." The quiet plea in my voice makes him look at me. "I'm so sorry . . . I was mad, and I wanted to . . . I don't even know anymore. And you were the one who said there are perks to being here, that you can change things."

He rolls his eyes. "You're not from here." There's a silence between us. "Even if you were, did you not pay attention at all to the way I'm doing things? It's quiet and small. That's how it has to be for now. You can't go on television complaining about the way things run and expect to have my mother's, or anyone's, support."

"I'm sorry!" I cry. "I'm so, so sorry."

He pauses for a moment. "I'm not sure that-"

We hear the shouting at the same time. Peeta turns and starts walking, and I follow, trying to make sense of the sound. Is someone fighting? As we get closer to the intersection of the main hallway and the doors to the gardens, we see guards come flooding toward the area.

"Sound the alarm!" someone calls. "They're through the gates."

"Guns at the ready!" another guard yells over the shouts.

"Alert the king!"

And then, like bees intent on landing, small, quick things buzz in the hall. A guard is struck and galls back, his head hitting the marble with a disturbing crack. The blood pouring from his chest makes me gasp loudly.

Peeta instinctively pulls me away, but not very quickly. Maybe he's in shock as well.

"Your Majesty!" a guard calls, racing over to us. "You have to get downstairs now!"

He gruffly turns around Peeta and shoves him away. Peeta cries out and drops the metal box again. I look over at the guard's hand on Peeta, expecting to see that he's driven a knife into his back based on the sound Peeta made. All I see is a thick, pewter ring around his thumb. I pick up the box by the handle on the side, hoping that I haven't messed anything ups inside, and run in the direction the guard is trying to move us.