It wasn't supposed to be this way. Ever since Katniss had volunteered for her at the Reaping, Primrose Everdeen had been weighted down by guilt, and living with the overwhelming sense of knowing she should be dead. The 74th Hunger Games were meant to take her life, her name had been drawn from the bowl, and she had only taken a few hesitant steps toward Effie Trinket on stage before the desperate and frantic scream of her sister interrupted everything. The young blonde didn't know how she was supposed to express her gratitude to her older sister, nor convey the overwhelming sense of relief in her heart when she watched Katniss and Peeta Mellark win the games and defy the Capitol all at once. Their homecoming was bittersweet, the house in the Victor's Village was cold, and Katniss wasn't the same. It wasn't supposed to be this way—this wasn't living, it was simply existing.

The winter day was harsh and cold with a chill in the air that kissed the windows, causing the glass to frost over from the outside in. Prim was in the kitchen, working dutifully on a stew while Katniss was out with Gale in the wilds beyond 12. That was one thing that hadn't changed, and Prim was happy to know that Katniss still took joy out of something. Admittedly, she wasn't an easy person to get along with, but Prim took her older sister for what she was, and loved her more than she could say. After what she had been through, Katniss deserved something normal and Gale had been a constant in their lives for as long as anyone could remember.

“Smells good,” Mrs. Everdeen smiled softly, having lifted the heavy metal lid from the pot on the stove. Steam wafted lazily into the air, and Prim turned back from the window with an equally soft expression. She had been working on her cooking for quite some time, and although it wasn't anywhere near as good as something her mother or Katniss could whip up, she thought it was coming along just fine. 

“It's ready now, but a few more hours would do it well,” the blonde mentioned, crossing the kitchen to take a taste from the pot. The rabbit went nicely with the root vegetables, and the stew was sure to be satisfying after a long day out in the cold. They had fresh bread as well, and Prim was looking forward to a nice dinner with her family. The occasion wasn't exactly something to celebrate, but this was the first year of the Hunger Games that Katniss guaranteed to be safe, and Prim thought was as good a reason as any to have a special meal.

With only Buttercup to keep her company, Prim occupied herself with tending to her cooking, feeding the cat a few scraps here or there and humming to herself. She was anxious for the Hunger Games announcement from President Snow that evening, but did her best to put it out of her mind. Soon enough, the sound of heavy boots coming up the steps piqued her interest and Prim looked out the window to see if it was only Katniss who had come home. She wasn't surprised to see Gale in tow behind her sister, and assumed that he would be staying for lunch and dinner. Ever since they had moved houses, out of the Seam and into the Victor's Village, Gale had been over a lot more. It was the least they could do for him, considering what a help he had always been.

After Prim listened to Katniss dismissing Peeta for the hundredth time that week, the kitchen soon filled up again. The blonde girl turned away from the stove, appreciating Gale's compliment as he gave Buttercup all of the attention the cat often craved. In the same breath, Gale invited her to come hunting with himself and Katniss, and Prim couldn't hold back her laughter. She was awful in the wild, dreadful in every sense of the word and the few times that she had gone with Gale while Katniss had been away had been pathetic. The patience he had with her had been astounding, and his sincerity never failed to produce a brief flutter in her chest for the huntsman.

“I--” she began, only to shut her mouth when Katniss interjected.

It was silly of her to think that Gale belonged to anyone but Katniss. In spite of what had happened with Peeta in the Hunger Games, Prim knew her sister, and she knew of the connection that she had with the other boy from the Seam. Peeta was nice, a good person, but he wasn't Gale. Anyone who thought to stand beside either of them and hope to catch an eye was a fool. Besides, Prim had always been on the outside looking in when it came to Gale and Katniss. They were so similar, in personality, in interests and in life where Prim was more inclined to braid hair than shoot an arrow from a bow, or identify a plant than set a trap for a squirrel.

Silly.

“There's plenty here,” Prim piped up, finally finding her voice through the sudden tenseness of the conversation. “Invite them.” In the months since the conclusion of the Games, Prim had grown increasingly worried for Haymitch and Peeta, both men now seemed withdrawn, and Haymitch tended to drink more than ever. She knew very little about him, and Katniss may not have considered him a friend, but Prim certainly thought their relationship was close. After all, they were the only three in all of District 12 who could relate to one another, and a bond like that wasn't something to be ignored. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent around the house. Prim continued to perfect her stew while taking breaks to tidy up. The move hadn't done much for mother's depression, so the cleaning was often left to the blonde girl. She didn't mind the work, and the only time it became a problem was when it came to cleaning up after Katniss's muddy booths on a freshly swept floor, or finding squirrel fur in places that it had no business being—the corners of the living room, or under the kitchen table. Chores kept her busy, and when Prim was busy, she wasn't feeling guilty. 

Every seat in the living room was occupied, and Haymitch sat draped in a cozy armchair, largely ignoring his dinner in favor of white liquor. He continued to drink through the announcement, unimpressed and apathetic to Panem's anthem, and even more unmoved by President Snow's speech until the theme of the years Quarter Quell was announced—they were obviously going for torture that year. It made the weathered man sick in the pit of his stomach (and it had nothing to do with the alcohol) to think that the number of tributes would be doubled yet again, but twisted in with past victors. There were only three in 12, and both he, Peeta and obviously Katniss knew what that meant. 

The plate shattering to the ground brought Prim back to the real world, the sound causing her to flinch as she held her breath. How could the Capitol do this? Why would they? She looked over to Katniss just in time to see the dark-haired girl running from the room. It wasn't fair that she would have to return after just barely getting out, it wasn't fair that 12 only had three Victors. It wasn't fair. 

“Katniss, wait!” Prim called, her blue eyes brimming with tears. She swallowed the lump in her throat and ducked into the kitchen, not wanting to cry in front of the others. Getting emotional was selfish when she hadn't even experienced the terror that Katniss had endured, and in a way, Prim was the one who had sent her sister into the arena. Her name had been called, and Katniss had felt responsible. She was sending her sister to die, and this time, she was sure that the Capitol wouldn't allow a repeat of two Victors. This was terrible, unthinkable, just--

The heavy sound of flesh and bone on the wooden counter top was startling and caused timid Primrose to jump where she stood. Gale was there, looking just as broken up as she felt on the inside. Katniss being gone had been hard on him, and it wasn't fair to anyone to lose her so soon after getting her back. “I'm sorry too,” voice quavering, Prim sighed. “I didn't think this would happen.” 

Before she knew it, Prim found herself crushed against Gale's strong chest, able to feel the beating of his heart against her cheek. She closed her eyes as her arms found their way around his middle. The embrace was secure, and somehow, Gale's words seemed true; Katniss would be okay. “You're right,” she agreed, “she's strong.” She managed a laugh at his joke as Gale slipped away from her, and fidgeted with her braid as her eyes drifted to a second presence in the room. Haymitch was there in the doorway, bottle of liquor in his hand and coat already on.

He took a swig from the bottle, “didn't think you'd go after her.” 

Whether he was talking to Gale or Prim, she wasn't sure, but Haymitch was soon gone and the front door closed behind him.

There were Katniss-sized footprints in the snow and Haymitch followed alongside them, his own overlapping and zig-zagging here and there as his gait swayed. It didn't take him long for him to find her, and the weary man supposed that he could have followed the sound of her scream, but his senses were dulled and occupied by the drink in his hand. Still, he felt the need to comfort her and obviously come up with a plan to keep Peeta safe. Katniss Everdeen may have been a difficult girl, but she wasn't without merit, and although she could have lived a thousand lifetimes and never deserved Peeta Mellark, the ways she sought to protect him were noble. Haymitch would have done anything for either of them. 

“We'll figure it out,” he told her with a groan, bones creaking as he took a seat on a log beside her. “We'll figure it out, we'll get you back here, sweetheart.” The former Victor wasn't sure [i]how[/i], but he would find a way. Snow wasn't going to take this one down if he could help it.