Thanks, this is my second fanfiction that I've put on this site, so I hope you like 's in Katniss's POV. It's basically about Katniss and Peeta after the rebellion, after the Capitol and President Snow fell, etc, basically with them and their 2 kids at the end of Mockingjay. The Epilogue wasn't so descriptive, so I've decided to add on to and stuff. Thanks! Please read and review and suggest stuff, I hope you like it

When we learned she was a she, we started thinking of names. Peeta and I wanted to continue Mother's way of naming her kids after flowers like she had with my dear, dead sister, Primrose, and my own name, Katniss. Haymitch, when he was sober enough, actually pitched in to help with the planning.

Mother would call me every so often to check up on me. Even Plutarch and Dr. Aurelius called once in a while. Effie would call, too, and she was ever so excited for me and Peeta.

Gale didn't call once, I kept reminding myself of how he didn't come back to 12 for me, how he stayed in 2 with some fancy job, probably kissing someone else's lips.

Oh well. I was happy. Whenever I was even slightly upset, I'd look at my wedding ring given to me from Peeta, my husband, the soon-to-be-father of my lovely baby girl.

It made me smile.

We had a fine time picking names, rejecting names, and commenting. Greasy Sae and her granddaughter would sit down with Me, Peeta, and occasionally Haymitch, in the kitchen during breakfast almost each day and we'd discuss plans, names, etc. It was actually quite fun.

Anyhow, today wasn't much different. Peeta sat down next to me, smiling and saying his "Good Morning"s to Greasy Sae and her granddaughter. Today was one of those odd days where Haymitch was actually sober and entered my door to sit down. It'd been several years of my refusal to get pregnant, but Peeta wanted a child so bad, so now, 10 years after the end of the rebellion, this is where I am. Happy. I know that there are no more games and no more of what there was that can possibly hurt my child.

We all sat at the table.

"Basil isn't a good name, it means Hatred." Greasy Sae's granddaughter chimed when Haymitch mentioned the name. I laughed. "That's true. Basil may be crossed from the list." Peeta, too, laughed and nodded. Then he said, "Hm. How about Clove…oh, wait." He cringed and coughed. "Never mind." He said, probably remembering that Clove had been the name of the female tribute from 2 who had tried to kill us, with the help of the male tribute, Cato, several times. "Iris means message." Greasy Sae suggested. I tilted my head. "Hm. Pretty name…perhaps…" Peeta nodded. "That's a choice. Let's put that on our list next to Ivy and Olive." I smiled. Haymitch yawned. "How about Ivy. That one's nice." I looked at Peeta, who considered this. When he nodded, so did I. "Okay. Ivy." I said. "Now a middle name."

"Raine." Greasy Sae's granddaughter suggested. Pretty name. "Perhaps." Peeta said. "Or Rae." He added. I smiled. "I like Rae. Ivy Rae Mellark."

"Pretty name." Greasy Sae said. "I like it. Nice choice."

And when Ivy did come, she was beautiful, with dark hair and blue eyes, her skin not too pale but not exactly as mine was, sort of a mix between the lovely pale of Peeta's skin and the olive-skinned me. She was beautiful. Our Ivy. And she love us so much, and as she grew she became very smart, very gifted. I taught her to use the bow, Peeta taught her to paint, but what she really loved was to sing and to dance. She sang 'In the Meadow', the very song I sang to Rue as she lay dying several years before in an arena that now exists only in nightmares. And when she turned 6, all she wanted was a baby brother or sister, and this time I wasn't afraid to give in, for Peeta, too, wanted one more. We did what we did before when we found that the new one would be a him. We all, including a 6 year old, excited, little Ivy, with her dark hair and beautiful blue eyes, sat at the table to discuss names.

Many names were suggested, some of which were ruled out for sounding too much like a female name. The list was soon narrowed down to 5 names. Flax, meaning domesticity. Fern, meaning fascination. Heath, meaning solitude. Ash, meaning greatness. Laurel, meaning glory. Eventually, Peeta and I settle, with Ivy's help, with Ash Lee Mellark. He was so wonderful when he came, blonde curls and grey eyes, with his chubby legs.

We love him and his sister so much. 9 year old Ivy adores him and she dances across the meadow as he toddles on his chubby, 3 year old, toddler legs, trying to keep up with her. I know that Ivy already has begun to learn of the Games in her 3rd grade class. She's learned that they were horrible, terrifying, and nightmarish. She doesn't ask of them, for she's learned we played a part in them. Neither of them asks about their father when he clutches on to his chair as the nightmarish flashbacks pass. These nightmares and flashbacks happen rarely now, though they still come. It's hard, yes, but even though I wish so badly to tell my children of the Games that I fought so hard to end, I know it would be too hard to tell them without bringing too many questions, perhaps even nightmares. But Peeta and I have that book, the one we eventually put together after the rebellion, and our attic, which is rarely entered, has boxes of things we held dear, things that help us remember those dark days, things, also, that are full of bittersweet memories of Finnick, Cinna, Prim, Rue, and Wiress. There are things we have that hold memories of even those still alive yet painful to talk to or see, such as Beetee, Johanna, Mother, Gale, Plutarch, Gale's family, Annie, Effie, my prep team…

I sometimes wish I could visit them, but how could I see mother without mourning even more for a lost Prim and my far-long-gone Father? How could I see Gale without crying that he left me, getting furious that it was his and Beetee's own bomb structure that killed my little sister? How could I see Beetee for that matter? How could I see Johanna without remembering her torture, Peeta's torture? How could I see Plutarch without him wanting me on camera, in a propo, or something else? How could I see Gale's family without crying for them, the loss of Prim, how Gale left me…How could I se Annie without being able to see Finnick who she's married so soon before he died. How could I see Effie or my prep team without remembering the Games? Heck, I see Peeta and Haymitch every day and even the sight of them will once in a while trigger flashbacks and nightmares.

But even still I know someday my children will learn. They know not that they play on a graveyard. They know not that I didn't want them at first. They don't know that I wake every morning terrified from a nightmare, terrified of waking to see President Snow killing me, or terrified that I may smell that odor of his roses ever again. Terrified I'll wake and be in the arena once again, hiding, injured, scared. But no. I wake to see Peeta beside me, my kids at the kitchen table, a nice home.