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

s i x t y - t h r e e

I watch as the palace is transformed. Almost over night, lush Christmas trees line the hallways of the first floor, garlands are strung down the stairways, and all the floral arrangements are changed to include holly or mistletoe. The strange thing is, if I open my window, it still feels like the edge of summer outside. I wonder if the palace can somehow manufacture snow. Maybe if I ask Peeta, he'll look into it.

Then again, maybe not.

Days pass. I try not to be upset that Peeta is doing exactly what I've asked, but as the space between us grows icy, I begin to regret my pride. I wonder if this was bound to happen. Have I been destined to say the wrong thing, make the wrong choice?  Even if Peeta is what I want, I'm never going to get myself together long enough for it to be real.

The whole thing just feels tired; it's the same problem I've been facing since Gale walked through the doorway of the palace. And I ache from it, feeling so torn, so confused.

I've taken to walking around the palace during the afternoons. With the gardens off-limits, the Women's Room day after day is too confining.

It's while I'm walking that I feel the shift. As if some unseen trigger has set off everyone in the palace. The guards stand a bit stiller, and the maids walk a bit faster. Even I feel strange, like I'm not quite so welcome here as I was only moments ago. Before I know what I'm feeling, the queen rounds the corner, a small entourage behind her.

Then it all makes sense. We're almost never around the queen, she's usually in her room or office or wherever. So, her absence makes the palace warmer, and now that's she's out and about, we're all subject to her whims again. No wonder the Northern rebels were excited about Peeta.

I curtsy as the queen approaches. While she walks, she puts up a hand, and the men behind her pauses as she come close, leaving us with a small bubble of space to speak.

"Lady Katniss. I see you're still here," she says, her smile and her words at odds with each other.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And how have you been? I've been a bit busy lately."

I smile. "Silent."

"That's a good girl." She starts to walk away but then remembers something and comes back. "It was brought to my attention that of the girls left, you're the only one still receiving money for your participation. I think that should end." My face falls. "Unless, of course, you're here for a payout and not because you love my son." Her eyes burn into me, daring me to challenge her decision.

"You're right," I say, hating the way the words feel in my mouth. "It's only fair."

I can see she's disappointed not to get more of a fight. "I'll see to it immediately."

She walks away, and I stand there, trying not to feel sorry for myself. Really, it's fair. How does it look that I'm the only one getting check? It will all end eventually anyway. Sighing, I head towards my room. The least I can do is write home and warn them that the money won't be coming anymore.

I open my door, and, for the first time, I'm completely ignored by my maids. Tig, Stacy, and Annie are in the back corner, hovering over a dress that they appear to be working on, bickering about their progress.

"Annie, you said you were going to finish this hem last night," Tig says. "You left early to do it."

"I know, I know. I got sidetracked. I can do it now." Her eyes are pleading. Annie is already a bit sensitive, and I know Tig's rigid manner sometime gets to her.

"You've been getting sidetracked an awful lot these last few days," Tig comments.

Stacy hold out her hands. "Calm down. Give me the dress before you mess it up."