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GIRL ON FIRE, UP IN FLAMES .𖥔 ݁ ˖๋࣭ ⭑🌱🌲

prompt: katniss is whipped instead of gale in cf au where everlark are already together and in love + i request something everlark and extremely whompy.

Word count: 1.8k

cw: violence, trauma, whipping, heavy angst but a hopeful ending, established everlark!

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When the Head Peacekeeper forces Katniss Everdeen’s wrists into iron clamps and pulls out a whip, the girl breathes deep, plants her knees firmly into the ground and braces herself for the impact.

There’s someone crying in the crowd behind her, a baby she thinks, wailing as soldiers clad in Capitol uniforms storm through Twelve, laying waste to whatever they find - their pristine white armour darkening with dust and blood as they do so.

Then, the whip makes first contact with her skin, and anything that isn’t pure agony flies straight out of Katniss’s head.

The pain is earth shattering.

Unlike anything Katniss has ever felt. Raw, engulfing, crude - she bites down on her lip hard enough to draw blood and holds back the sob building in her chest.

She will not give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Three more lashes follow in quick succession, each one heavier than the last.

“Let this be a lesson to you all.” Thread’s voice is low and promises a violent punishment for anyone who defies him.

“We are the law. And the law will not be broken.”

The whip comes down on Katniss’s back again and it feels like lightning striking the earth. She bites back a cry when something warm and wet slides down her back, sticking to her shirt as her skin tears under the blunt force of the leather. Blood begins to weep out of her body then, thick and heavy, the onslaught becoming near unbearable as Thread brings the whip down on her back over and over again.

As the whip cleaves her back to shreds, Katniss Everdeen clings on to her consciousness like it’s all she has left. Bares her teeth at it and dares it to leave her.

Then, a voice breaks through the pain - sunlight filtering through clouds in the midst of a storm. Peeta.

“Hey, hey! STOP!”  Katniss can hear him getting louder, more desperate, as he rushes towards them.

She wants to turn and yell at him to get back. To stay as far as possible from the people ripping Twelve to shreds, but the only thing that escapes her clamped lips is a low groan as the Threads whip makes contact with her skin once more.

Peeta’s words become choked and frantic when he hears it. “Stop, stop! You’ll kill her!”

There’s a scuffle and the sound of the whip hitting something else, someone else. Peeta stumbles backwards and into her eyeview, and the sight of his face - twisted in pain, bleeding - hurts far more than the whip. The boy gets back up steadily and Katniss sags against the post, unable to stop him.

“Want another?” Thread growls.

“Let her go.”

“Get out of my way. I won’t ask again.”

Peeta stands his ground.

“No.”

The stubbornness and open defiance that his voice carries makes Katniss feel sick.

“Peeta,” his name is a broken supplication on her lips. “You have to go. It’s not- It’s not worth it. Please-”

“I am not leaving you.”

She can almost hear the smile in Threads next words.

“Have it your way.”

The girl braces herself for the impact of a next blow that never comes.

Running footsteps echo through the square and from the corner of her eye Katniss sees Haymitch rushing towards them.

His hands are already raised in defence, voice breathless. “Woah, woah-”

Thread snarls - effectively cutting him off. 

“Get out of my way.”

“You don’t want to do this.” To anyone else, Haymitch might sound calm, almost warning. But Katniss knows him better than that, she can hear the desperation tinging her old mentors words.

“We caught her carrying illegal game through the district.”

“I never said she was smart,” Haymitch scoffs and his comment doesn’t sting as much as it usually would because Katniss knows that right now he’s doing anything he can to keep her safe.

“But the Capitol needs her alive. She’s one of last years Victors. Don’t you recognise her?” Haymith speaks clearly and concisely - loud enough that she can hear him over the blood rushing in her ears.

“You should be glad,” he continues, “that there aren’t any cameras on you right now. I doubt the citizens of the Capitol would like to see what you’ve done to their darling on the eve of the big wedding.”

Haymitch’s voice is cold and doesn’t allow for debate when he next speaks.

“Let. The girl. Go.”

What happens next is a blur.

Katniss is pretty sure that Threaf continues to speak, but she doesn’t hear the whip whistling through the air anymore, and her body sings with relief.

Peeta kneels beside her in the dirt - face tear streaked and pale as he struggles to free her hands from the iron clamping them to the sides of the post. She whimpers when at first the clamps don’t give and Peeta reaches out to cradle her face in his hands gently, pressing his lips against the crown of her head.

“Stay with me, Katniss,” The boy murmurs.  “We’re gonna get you out of here, just keep your eyes open for me. You’re okay.”

The girl doesn’t even have the strength to reply.

When her hands finally come loose, Katniss’s body sags against the post and she rocks forward, unbalanced - unable to stop the fall. Peeta’s arms are around her before she can hit the ground.

Then, she’s being moved, someone supplies a plank of wood and they shift her trembling body onto it. People crowd around, people she doesn’t even know, reaching out to help carry her away.

She must lose consciousness then because the next thing she knows, Katniss is being placed on the kitchen island in her house, Peeta and Haymitch right by her side.

Her mother and Prim are by her side instantaneously, working with a cohesion she’s never managed to achieve with either of them. When they start cutting the soaked shirt off her back, Katniss bites back a scream.

When something burning is poured over the open gashes on her back she begins to beg.

“Please stop- Please, PLEASE-“ She doesn’t know who she’s pleading with. All she knows is that the pain is relentless and she’s not sure how much longer she can bear it. Katniss Everdeen is a girl on fire, up in flames.

“Hold her still!”

Gentle fingers run through her hair as Peeta takes a seat next to her. “I know, I know. You’re okay, Katniss. You're okay.” He shushes her softly, brushing his thumb against her cheekbone as her mother’s voice rings out above.

“She needs morphling.”

The entire room sways in and out of focus, but the boy she loves stays clear and sharp in Katniss’s vision.

Peeta Mellark is the last thing Katniss sees before the darkness swallows her whole.

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When Katniss falls silent, her bloodied body going lax against the countertop as the morphling works its way through her system, Peeta Mellark breathes a sigh of relief.

It’s then, watching helplessly as Mrs Everdeen and Prim start making ointments and preparing bandages for Katniss’s back, that he knows he would take an eternity worth of lashes just to spare her from the pain splayed across her unconscious features.

(Her screams are still ringing out in his ears - it’s not something he’ll be able to forget for a long time.)

The remnants of Katniss’s bloodied shirt lie around her, and Peeta has to hold back the urge to vomit when he sees what was under them.

Katniss’s back is effectively shredded. A torn, mangled mess of open welts and bloodslick flesh.

Haymitch stands on the far side of the room, his head bowed. The man looks more exhausted than Peeta has ever seen him; shaken to the core as he watches Katniss through hooded eyes.

Prim on the other hand, is a picture of poise. Her hands are covered in blood, as are her mother’s - but the girl works diligently - calm and collected as her sister lies unconscious on the table.

They finish soon, and when they place the final bandages over Katniss’s back, Peeta finds himself releasing a long and shaky breath.

“We can only wait now.” Mrs Everdeen sounds tired and worn as she wipes a hand across her brow. She looks up at Peeta, smiling softly.

“We’ll give you two a moment.”

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Katniss wakes up hours later when Peeta takes her hand in his and begins to clean away the blood that’s run down her arm in rivulets with a damp cloth.

He slows his ministrations, watching as her storm grey eyes take in their surroundings.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

Katniss winces, moving her head ever so slightly as to see him better.

“Hurts.”

Peeta nods, tries to not let the anguish festering  in his own chest display onto his face.

“Do you need anything?”

She shakes her head and Peeta squeezes her hand  softly when she starts to speak again.

“How could they do this, Peeta?” Her words are slow and struggle to make it out of her as she speaks - mouth stumbling around, heavy with morphling.

Peeta knows without a doubt that she’s not referring to the whipping she received - to the battered, maimed tapestry her back now is. There’s worry in her eyes but he doubts any of it is reserved for herself.

Katniss Everdeen isn't asking how the Capitol could do this to her.

She’s asking how it could do this to the citizens of Twelve.

“They want the Districts to stay in line. It’s a warning, I suppose.”

“This is my fault.” It’s a statement, but she says it like a question. Barely a whisper, as though a part of her is afraid of hearing the truth. Peeta shakes his head firmly.

“This is not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

He knows, logically, that what he’s saying is true, but the words in his mouth taste like a lie.  As acrid as nightlock berries and defiance.

Katniss’s lower lip wobbles ever so slightly as he speaks and Peeta realises that she hasn't shed a single tear throughout the entirety of this ordeal.

“You can let it out, sweetheart. It’s just us here.” He says it because he knows that Katniss likes to put on a brave face whenever she can. She’s strong, his girl, and a lot of the time, it makes him proud beyond belief, but sometimes all it does is worry him. He wants her to feel safe enough to show her true emotions when they’re together. 

Something like exhausted relief seeps into the girl’s weary features, as if she’s been waiting for permission. The thought alone makes him feel sick.

She sniffles a little, squeezing her eyes tight and biting her lip. But then the first sob breaks through and it’s like a dam has broken.

There is nothing quite as undoing as Katniss’s tears.

Harsh and pained and utterly defeated - probably blaming herself for what Thread did, despite Peeta’s reassurances that she’s not at fault.

And Peeta Mellark has never considered himself to be a revolutionary, but the tears that run down Katniss’s face make him want to rip the Capitol apart with his bare hands until there’s nothing but ash and dust left. Until Katniss is safe.

The next best thing he can do is be there for her, and that is what he does. In the darkening room, as the wind howls outside and the rest of the house sleeps, Peeta sits by Katniss’s side and presses his lips against her knuckles.

“We’re going to be okay, sweetheart.” He murmurs.

It’s a promise he intends to keep.