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cauliflowercounty · 2 months

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Knives Dance (Part I)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

After years of writing *literally nothing,* I never expected bald Austin Butler to inspire me again :)

Life does wonderful things sometimes. Feyd Rautha is a fucking snack. And whoops it looks like I invented a planet and a culture :/

Summary: You're the daughter of the Duke of the House of Ronen, and your father and Vladimir Harkonnen have arranged a marriage between you and Feyd-Rautha to join your two houses. When the House of Harkonnen pays a visit to your planet, Feyd discovers something unforeseen within himself during an assassination attempt…

Reader: she/her pronouns

Warnings: innuendo/suggestive content, attempted assassination, blood, violence, multiple murders

Word Count: 4.2k

Part I | Part II | Part III

The hydraulics whirr as the black metal ramp of the Harkonnen vessel opens downward onto the stone landing pad on planet Youra and hits the ground with a low thunk. Feyd follows his uncle as he floats out of the vessel toward the doors of the Youran citadel, which is nestled in the center of a towering mountain covered in dense forest. Through the canopy, he sees the flickering lights from within the treehouses that adorn the forest cover.

The fortress itself is bathed in a warm, yellow glow from the round floating lanterns that surround it. As they hover, they seem to spiral upwards in a concentric spiral and extend their reach up into the night sky. A line of Youran soldiers flank the walkway, dressed in ceremonial garb of earthy, brown leathers with teal accents and intricate geometric patterns. As the Harkonnens pass, the soldiers bow their heads to them, allowing the carved silver helmets to shine in the evening light.

The environment here could not be further from that of Giedi Prime with its cold, industrial landscape devoid of color and the stench of sulfur and gas. The jungle air here is saccharine and floral on Feyd’s tongue. He feels the brush of the evening breeze flowing past him out toward the sea from the surrounding jungle. As he breathes in, he notices the richness of the air, imbued with the essence of all the flora that have made Youra a treasure trove for natural resources and experimental medicines, reminding him why he and his uncle have arrived on this planet.

The endeavor to secure spice on Arrakis had not gone as smoothly as the Harkonnens had hoped, especially with constant Fremen attacks sabotaging their forces and Rabban’s pitiful attempt at countermeasures. The current state of their operation and the number of soldiers they were losing daily called for acquiring a new tactical advantage. As much as they hated to admit it, they would have been foolish not to seek one out.

The advantage lay on Youra, the planet of island rainforests and the home of the minor House of Ronen, where an uncountable number of plant and animal species flourished, supplying the population with life-saving natural compounds the renowned scientists had been extracting from nature and developing for centuries. Through this arranged marriage, the wealth of chemical knowledge and access to the raw materials would become House Harkonnen’s. Feyd could begin to taste his ascension to power. This was simply the next step necessary to turn the tides of this conflict on Arrakis, which would inevitably end in him assuming the title of Baron if not Emperor.

With a low rumble, the double doors in front of Feyd open to reveal your father and yourself. Laying eyes on you for the first time, Feyd stops in place, his heavy black boots almost stuck on the ground. When the conversation of an arranged marriage came up with his uncle, he was beyond apathetic, knowing that this would be a political move in which he had no obligation to have any investment. The woman would become his wife only by title. To his astonishment, he is entranced by your beauty, to the point of speechlessness. He almost completely ignores your father’s greeting and speech about the union of your two houses. You are radiant with your skin that glows in the light, unlike that of the Harkonnen women he is used to seeing. You look into his eyes, and he feels almost locked in, the rest of the world fading until all he sees is you.

“Welcome to our home, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you say to him, not breaking eye contact from underneath your headdress. Your striking eyes bore deep into his soul. It’s almost as if they’re calling to him. What’s most interesting to Feyd is that they don’t seem to contain a hint of fear or apprehension. He is used to making those around him crumple under the weight of their own terror with his mere presence so he can exploit those emotions and manipulate them as his own personal playthings. In defiance of his reputation, you seem undeterred by him staring straight at you. As your eyes glimmer in the lamplight, he feels his breath almost catch as they taunt him, draw him. Snapping himself out of the trance, a smirk forms on his lips, remembering how his uncle taught him to behave. He forces himself to relish the thought of toying with your apparent resolve.

As he looks down, he eyes your lavish, floor-length regalia. The same deep brown and teal that your father and the soldiers wear decorates the patterns on your cloak. He notices lines of gold thread woven into your hair, an appropriate show of the natural resources of your planet.

Strange, he thinks. The cloak is rather large and heavy. Despite matching the designs of the other Youran garb, it seems out of place to be a traditional outfit for the aristocracy of a rainforest civilization where the warm and humid conditions should prove inhospitable for cloaks of this nature.

The delicate, meek flower he was expecting to relish picking apart with ease you are not. He’s figured out you're a woman with something you’re intent on hiding from him. You’ve put on this front either bravely or stupidly, and Feyd-Rautha will peel back every layer one calculated move at a time until you are finally entirely his.

He steps forward and reaches down to take your hand in his. “My betrothed…” he whispers to you, his voice low and gravelly. “We finally meet, Little One. I must say you look exquisite. I expected nothing less.” He brings your fingers up to his lips and brushes his lips across them before pressing firm a kiss on the back of your hand His uncle seems most disgusted by Feyd’s tenderness, but Feyd keeps his gaze on you through hooded eyes, knowing that the first move in any game is imperative to the success of his endeavor. He sees yours flicker for a moment as your body tenses listening to his praise. He’s got you right where he wants you.

–

Dinner is filled with monotonous diplomacy, tiresome pleasantries, and planning of the wedding to take place on Giedi Prime, but Feyd hasn’t let his attention break from you. It’s as if the kiss he planted on your hand was the catalyst for the first crack in the wall you’ve put up, and now he’s waiting for the perfect moment to make his next move.

All of dinner he’s watched as you attentively listened to his uncle and your father exchange words and eat your dinner. He hasn’t failed to notice how your eyes dart over to look at him through your lashes. With every gesture you make and every word you say, he feels unequivocally enraptured. As much as he’s tried to suppress his emotions and stay faithful to his uncle’s teachings, grounded in violence and viciousness, his mind starts to wander.

He wonders what must it be like to have your touch flutter across his chest when he watches you delicately grasp your water goblet. When you fold your lips around your cup to drink, he imagines what they must feel like on his skin if you were to drag them down his neck tantalizingly slow. What if you were close enough to him to have your breath fan out across his skin as your lips caressed his? What must it be like to hold your softness in his hands? The very idea makes his breath hitch.

Of the many thoughts he has as he watches you, many of them becoming increasingly lewd as dinner continues, one remains in his head: if he is this captured by just your face and gaze, basking in the light of what you’re concealing under your cloak, must be heaven adjacent.

His desire to use you and leverage your own will against you is being chipped away little by little. Feyd’s hardened persona that his uncle helped construct is withering with every second he spends in your presence. The notion is nearly frightening to Feyd, but with every single glance and gesture, his heart, which may have turned to stone long ago, is beginning to accept it.

Feyd rips his attention away from you as your father stands to thank the Harkonnens once again for coming. “I shall have my servants show you where you shall be staying,” your father announces as he rises from his seat. “I have arranged for our head researchers to show you what progress we have had in our synthetic undertakings as of late. I guarantee you will be very interested in what they have to offer.”

As you stand, he notices how your hands pull together the front seam of your cloak, preventing it from opening. Curious.

You bid him goodnight and turn away to head to your quarters as a Youran servant beckons him to the guest wing. That night, Feyd cannot rest as he lays awake in bed in the opulent guest suite, images of you running through his head, and he almost smiles thinking about when you say his name so sweetly.

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.”

–

The next day, Feyd sees little of you. In the morning, he makes his way to your quarters only to be informed by a servant at your door that you have already departed for the day. When he asks where you have gone, the servant provides a murky response about your duties as Lady of the House and wedding preparations, which he as her betrothed would “surely understand.” Just as he decides he will find you himself, he is seized by his uncle as to meet the Youran ministers of culture, science, and development to learn about their acquisition.

Feyd cannot deny that your homeworld is impressive. It’s steeped in centuries of exploration and inquiry with unmatched record-keeping of not only science but tradition, too. The ceilings are vaulted and adorned with gold. The walls of the citadel are covered in elaborate murals painted on with vibrant colors or carved into the surfaces. Some depict traditional folktales, gods, and ceremonies while those opposite them describe the evolutionary lines of species, a true testament to Youra’s modernity and dedication to preserving your peoples’ history in living memory. If only he knew which mural decorates the wall concealing you.

As the picture of your world’s history becomes clearer, the air of mystery surrounding you only grows. Not once has he heard talk of you after his interaction with that servant, but throughout the day he has sensed hushed whispers that are almost certainly about him instead. As he passes soldiers, some of them almost seem to leer at his presence.

A few times, he thinks he can almost see the hem of your cape disappear around corners, but when he goes to investigate, there is nobody there. The anger he expected to have inside him due to your avoidance is nowhere to be seen, and only a burning intrigue remains.

“What a little enigma my wife is,” he thinks to himself when he enters the banquet hall for dinner as the last ray of sunlight fades from the windows as the sun dips below the horizon.

Almost on cue, the doors to the hall open again and to his gratification, it is you. He stands up from his seat and walks over to you. He cannot deny his own inclination when you smile at him softly, putting him at ease.

“Good evening, Na-Baron,” you greet as he stops in front of you. Your dulcet tones go straight to his heart, causing it to skip a beat. “I hope I’ve not kept you waiting long.”

“Not at all.” He takes your hands in his once again, running his thumb along the back of them and savoring the feeling of your soft skin. This time when his heart swells, he lets it happen, surrendering himself to your charm. “I would wait an eternity for you,” he says, realizing you enjoy it when he romances you.

“You don’t strike me as a man who likes to be kept waiting,” you reply, looking up into his eyes. “I am surprised you are not frustrated with me.”

“I make exceptions,” he replies, noticing how your lips curl into a small smile. “… for when it truly matters. Since you’ve been absent all day, tell me, Little One, what have you been doing while you were hiding from me all day?”

You let out a gentle exhale. “I assumed you might be curious about that,” you say to him, as you clasp his hands in yours, beginning to tug him backwards to the doors. “Would you join me outside before we eat, Na-Baron? I have something I want to show you that I’ve been working on in preparation for our marriage.”

Allowing you to lead him, he follows you as you pull him through the halls of the fortress. He senses the answers to the questions he’s been asking himself are within his grasp. You both head outdoors and descend a grand staircase toward a courtyard nestled in the center of the fortress that overlooks the ocean that is now a murky midnight blue.

The nighttime lanterns light the way once again, and you both continue into the courtyard which is unlike anything he’s ever seen before. The ground seems to be a single sheet of rust colored stone that is marbled with shards shimmery metals. The slab has massive circles cut into it spaced in a perfect grid. Inside the circle is a golden pool of luminescent water. Tall, half moon shaped walls cradle each pool with glyphs and carvings etched into them.

“What is this place?” he asks you, basking in the light emanating from all of the pools that surround the both of you as you continue down the center aisle.

“This is my favorite place in the castle,” you explain. “It’s where we keep one of every species our researchers are currently studying. The rock wall above the pools describes each evolutionary line and the discoveries about it we’ve made. There’s one I want to show you if you would allow me.”

He nods as you bring him to a pool whose accompanying slab remains blank. Looking down into the water, he spots a single indigo fish with long, delicate fins that trail behind it in the water. He watches as it circles the pool. It slows and shudders momentarily. A single incandescent scale breaks off and floats to the bottom of the pool. You kneel to gather the scale from the bottom, holding it so that he can see how the light flickers off its surface.

“Does it intrigue you?” he hears you ask, and he nods in return as something he thought he lost long ago begins to emerge inside of him: his sense of wonder.

“I have never seen such a creature. Would you tell me about it?”

“It would be my pleasure,” you grin. “This fish was discovered on an archipelago on the other side of the planet. I’ve been studying this fish with our most expert researchers. The pools it lives in almost disappear during the dry season, but we’ve found that they survive to the wet season because of their scales somehow. My father doesn’t know any of this. He still thinks we know nothing of this creature.”

“It’s marvelous,” he whispers to you, eyeing the small bubbles floating to the top of the water from the fish’s gills.

“I wanted to show you this fish because this is at the heart of our culture on Youra. Our people are on a constant mission to learn and discover, so we can help and care for those we hold dearest. With our marriage, the House of Harkonnen will be a part of that endeavor. I’m showing you this fish because when the fish shed their scales at the beginning of the wet season, they contain a high concentration of a novel compound that allows living things to retain water.”

He sees you fidget with your own hands as you explain. You’re nervous, he realizes.

“We have been able to extract it from the scales they drop,” you say with a slight waiver in your voice. Here you are bearing your hard work and dedication, your soul to him. Your vulnerability is evident. Before you were so confident with your gaze and now your eyes never stay on him for more than a fraction of a moment. If you were anyone else, he would have taken full advantage the opportunity to leverage your weakness, but he cannot bring himself to do so. “This knowledge is my gift to you na-Baron. I have been aware of your endeavors on Arrakis. I realize you may not be as invested in this arrangement as we are, but I wanted to give you this to mark the beginning of what is to come… I don’t expect you to do anything in return. Only wanted to communicate my intentions.”

His heart quivers as his mind darts back to the countless times his uncle has “gifted” things to him as rewards for doing his bidding. The concubines, armor, and weapons all fall to the wayside; now they’re all tainted in Feyd's mind by his uncle's conniving ways. They were never gifts in earnest, always being transactional or part of another of his uncle’s Machiavellian schemes. Never in his life had he been given something so thoughtful, something intended to truly protect him. The previous notions he had before of possessing you are bitter on his tongue. Now, he could never and the shame he feels for maybe the first time in years begins to burn into his psyche.

“Na-Baron,” you plead, bringing him out of his own thoughts. “Say something, please.”

“Thank you,” he finally says, taking your hands in his and giving them a squeeze. “I am grateful for your generosity, my little flower.”

Your eyes well up with tears and you let out a relieved sigh before your emotions bubble out of you. “You cannot fathom how happy I am to hear you say those words,” you say, bringing your hands to his again. “I was so worried about showing you this!”

Right when he opens his mouth to respond, his instincts as a warrior kick in as he hears the soft whistle of something flying through the air towards the both of you. In a flash, he’s grabbed you by your shoulder to force you to your knees as you let out a bewildered yelp. The sound lights his veins on fire and fills him with rage.

Against the blank stone slab of the fish’s pool he sees it: a green splatter of a sinister substance that drips down the stone in long tendrils. Below, the shattered remains of a poisoned dart sinking into the water. You’ve seen it, too. He swivels himself around in the direction the arrow came from. A hooded figure is emerging from behind another one of the stone walls, a serrated dagger in hand, poised to strike you down. Feyd reprimands himself for leaving his weapons behind in his room in the name of diplomacy, but he’s prepared to fight empty handed to protect you and punish your assailant.

Before he realizes, you’ve shed your cloak, allowing it to drop to the floor behind you and Feyd can finally see what you’ve been hiding. You’re wearing a sage green dress with a bodice plated in iron that’s been secured to in place with intricate leather straps and golden loops that wrap deliciously around your figure. The symmetric slits in your dress that extend almost to your hips reveal your garters where two silver daggers that curve into formidable hooks are secured to your outer thighs.

As soon as he realizes you’re armed, you’ve already grasped the leather wrapped handles of your weapons and drawn them from your thighs with a flourish, launching yourself at your attacker. The ground reverberates with your power, and your blades ring out as they clash with your opponent’s. The man grunts upon impact and with a vigorous push, you knock his weapon upwards and away from you as you swipe at his face with the other hand. When he stumbles backwards, his face covering is swept to the side.

“Ozran!” you growl as the man regains his composure. “What is the meaning of this? Traitor!”

“I could say the same for you, Lady Ronen, revealing our secrets to that Harkonnen!” Ozran snarls at you, his eyes wild as he begins swiping sloppily at your head, which you dodge with ease. Feyd knows the man is getting desperate. Ozran is quickly realizing running away would have been the best option after his poisoned arrow missed.

Ozran attempts to shake off his regret by hurling himself at you, trying to recover the situation now that he’s committed to one-on-one combat with you. “I will not stand by and have the rewards of our peoples’ work reaped by them. Without a daughter to marry off, our intelligence will remain ours, and I will protect it to the end, even if that means killing you.”

Feyd hears you tisk at his pitiful attempt at your life as your heel makes contact with his nose. Blood gushes from his nostrils and drips down his chin in thick droplets. He staggers back and loses his footing as you drive your blades into him, your footsteps smearing his blood on the floor as you move. Ozran’s hope drains from his eyes, and he coughs as you pull your knives back, his blood spilling onto the stone floor from the gaping hole in his body. He drops his weapon and it clatters on the ground beside him.

“Too bad you couldn’t get close enough to actually do any damage,” you say sweetly to him as he wheezes. “You were never a man worthy of battle. I’m surprised you even worked up the courage to merely attempt to kill me.”

“D-don’t worry, dear Lady,” he sneers as his knees hit the floor. “There are more of us who don’t appreciate our leaders betraying our ideals. They will avenge me, and you will join me in death.” With that, his body crumples in the pool of his own blood. Drawing his last breath, Feyd sees Ozran’s consciousness fade. From the shadows and behind the other stone walls, he senses more figures lurking.

“Na-Baron!” you call, as you throw Feyd your second knife, which he catches with a flick of his wrist as you pick up Ozran’s weapon. Your dagger is robust and extraordinarily crafted, truly a weapon worthy of your status Feyd thinks. With that, he joins you in battle when Ozran’s allies pounce, eager to avenge their fallen comrade. One by one, he cuts the treasonous soldiers down with you by his side, slashing their throats, stabbing them in their backs, hearing their bones break, and tendons tear. It’s exhilarating, fighting not just for you, but with you in perfect synchronization.

When the last one falls, their mangled bodies are piled around you. He looks at you with complete admiration in his eyes. Without a second thought, he pulls you close with desperation. Cradling your face in his free hand, he kisses you roughly and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, tasting the familiar tang of iron. As you kiss him back with a fervor that makes his senses sing, he uses his other arm to pull you close, if he’s worried that you will join the souls of the dead around you and leave this world, something he can’t bear to think of now.

Reluctantly, you both break away from the kiss, resting your foreheads against one another. Your breaths are thick and heaving. You look down at his dominant hand, which still holds your second dagger.

“Are you going to kill me now, Na-Baron?” you ask as you look up at him, and he instinctively throws the knife away, letting it clatter on the floor. He shakes his head.

“I never anticipated my betrothed to have such prowess in battle,” he whispers lowly, returning his hand to your body. He drags his fingers across the places where the straps of your dress make indentations in your skin, making you shiver at his touch. His grip on your waist tightens when he palms your supple skin. You hum a sigh of satisfaction that is almost music to Feyd’s ears, and he could listen to it all day. “Watching you cut down each of them… What a lovely surprise it was… You are truly an unexpected paragon, my dear.”

“Unexpected…” you chuckle, blushing at his flattery. “May I ask another question of you?”

“Of course,” he replies, peering down at you with an ardent stare.

“Before coming here, were you aware there are many dangerous things in the rainforest, Na-Baron?” He nods. “Then why would you assume I am not one of them?”

“Clever girl,” he grins, pressing another kiss on your forehead.

“From now on, my blades will fight for you, Feyd-Rautha.”

“And mine for you, my love,” he replies as he dips his lips back down to yours. What a fool he was before, anticipating so little from his future wife. Now he knows better. He realizes who you really are, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough.

Thank you for reading!

Knives Dance Part II OUT NOW!

Let me know if you want to be added to my Feyd tag list

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#dune 2 #dune part two #dune part 2 #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #x reader #austin butler

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maevesheart · 5 months

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FOOLS - PART III

CORIOLANUS SNOW X CAPITOL!READER

note: continuing to use the mars family name for reader, but different storyline than tolerate it. i recommend listening to troye sivan’s “fools” while reading :)

PART I // PART II / PART III

summary: only fools would fall for coriolanus snow, and you’re the biggest fool of them all.

wc: 11.2k (hehe)

tw: possessive!!jealous!!snow, violence, cursing, death, jealous!!reader

Arachne’s funeral was one for someone of high esteem, President Ravinstill himself officiating it. They had asked you to sing Gem of Panem, one final serenade to your friend before she was 6 feet under.

But they had decided to keep the games going, much to almost everyone’s dismay. Coriolanus was still unwavering, determined to win.

It was somewhat late, after supper, when you received the phone call. It was from Tigris, her voice strained and hushed, whispering like she might get caught.

“Tigris, what’s the matter,” you humm, still slowly drifting away from sleep.

“It’s Coriolanus, there… there was a horrible rebel bombing at the arena and he was there,”

Your heart drops, immediately making you feel awake as you’ve ever been. Before she is even finishing the rest of her sentence, you are on your feet, wrapping a long mauve colored coat around your scantily clad body, and slipping on some black ballerina flats.

You rush out of the house, everyone is dispersed around the house, likely waiting for the Tribute interviews, and you tell the butler to alert your father of your whereabouts when he asks (which he is sure to).

The ride feels long, you tapping your fingers, bouncing your leg, anything to keep your mind busy and off the millions of thoughts of what could’ve happened to Coryo.

Once you arrive, the nurse leads you straight to his room, and there he is, limp on the small hospital bed. Your heart tightens and your eyes drop, quickly rushing to his side.

You are alerted of Tigris’s presence when she finally speaks, hushed words once again.

“He was calling for you in his sleep,” she smiles, watching as you smooth his hair down away from his face.

“What happened Tigris?” you ask. If there had been a news report, you would’ve been held up in your room, nose buried deep in a book. And if this report did happen, which it likely did, your father would have demanded your entire family not leave for the next week. He would always get paranoid when the rebels sparsely attacked, worried that it would be someone of his who was laying in that hospital bed, hooked up to an oxygen machine.

“They think the rebels had been planning it. A few tributes ran, mine included,” Sejanus speaks, and you whip around, watching as his large figure crosses the room.

“I’m so sorry, Sej,” you soothe, standing up from Coryo’s bedside to wrap your arms around Sejanus’s figure. He accepted your hug, practically melting into it.

“There’s peacekeepers on every corner looking for him. But I hope he got as far away as possible, then they can’t hurt him anymore,” you rub his back, understanding his deep empathy for his once-friend.

“Y/N?” you whip your head around, Croyo’s faint whisper falling from his lips as his fingers lightly twitch. “Been doing that every few minutes since he was brought here,” Tigris laughs. “I didn’t realize the two of you were that close,” she says, suddenly both pairs of eyes directly on you.

“Just over the past couple of weeks. We’ve been helping each other, and he saved me from having Arachne’s same fate.”

At the mention of Arachne’s name, the three of you fall into somber conversation, discussing small details about her life, honoring the girl you once called a friend.

“Though she had her moments—“

You’re cut off by a small grunt, and then movement. Your eyes snap to Coryo, who is trying to sit up, eyes open and adjusting to the bright hospital lights.

You jump to his side, delicately sitting down on the edge of the bed, taking his hand in yours.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, a smile overtaking his face before he winces, sore everywhere.

“Oh darling, I’ll get the nurse,”

But before you can stand to alert for help, the small television in the room clicks on, a picture of Lucky Flickerman and Lucy Gray overtaking the screen.

“She saved me,” you hear lightly behind you, Coryo’s eyes wide as he watches her every movement.

Your heart strains, stomach twisting at his words.

Then her voice fills the room, smooth and beautiful with every word.

“When I was a babe, I fell down in a holler. When I was a girl, I fell into your arms,” the four of you watched with wide eyes, her words filling up all your senses.

The donations began to pour in, Coriolanus’s mouth pulling up in the shape of a smile. This time, he doesn’t wince.

“You say you won’t love me, I won’t love you neither, just let me remind you what I am to you,” your eyes flicker to Coryo,

“Cause I am the one who looks out when you’re leaping, I am the one who knows how you were brave, And I am the one who heard what you said sleeping, I’ll take that and more when I go to my grave,”

Coriolanus won’t meet your eyes, his feet reaching the ground as he pushes himself off the bed, slowly walking to the screen.

You hold the emotion back, plastering an unassuming look on your face.

“It’s sooner than later that I’m six feet under, it’s sooner than later that you’ll be alone, so who will you turn to, tomorrow, I wonder? For when the bell rings, lover, you’re on your own.”

A weep falls from Tigris’s lips, and all of you turn to look, Sejanus’s pained expression briefly flashing over your face, sensing the pain.

“Oh, Coryo, she’s amazing,”

You sat in the living room with your family, your large television broadcasting the first day of the games.

You had been sitting there for hours now, your father engrossed, watching children fight to the death.

Persephone was unfazed, sipping from a China glass with some sort of pink fizzy soda inside.

Your mother busied herself with filing her nails, looking up every few moments and asking if it was over yet.

Some sinister part of you, deep within your core, hoped that Lucy Gray would be the first out. So you’d never have to see her face again, hear her voice again. Then you’d have Coriolanus all to yourself, no more distractions and flamboyant performances.

There were only a few tributes left, including Lucy Gray, the boy from 11 – Reaper, little Wovey, and the pack of tributes who traveled together.

Coral, her name, the leader — she frightened you.

Your father had been sending in donation after donation, mostly to Reaper, the tribute from 11. If Clemmie was conscious, you would’ve told her how your whole family was rooting for him.

The second day of the games, Coriolanus invited you and Tigris to come with him, walking in with each of you on an arm.

You and Tigris took your seats in the first row, eyes straining to make out the small shapes of tributes as they scurried around the arena, very few left at this time.

You wished the games would hurry up and be finished already, Lucy Gray dead and some strong tribute pronounced the winner. You were tired of Coryo’s little fascination with the delicate songbird – you didn’t even think she was that great of a singer, anyways – and once she was dead the two of you could go back to your old ways. No distractions.

It was soon nightfall, Tigris had left to get some sleep, and you felt yourself starting to drift off, Coryo’s jacket around your shoulders, keeping you warm from the chill in the large room.

You lightly drifted off, awakened by the loud beep as the large monitor turned off. You jumped, pulling Coryo’s jacket tighter around your body.

When you frantically searched around for him, he was nowhere to be seen. You rushed to Festus, one of the few of your classmates still left, begging him for answers.

“Festus? Where did Coriolanus go?” you ushered out, words spilling out of your mouth in a hurry. Festus rolled his eyes, many of the boys in your grade had become annoyed with your obsession over the Snow boy.

“No idea, Y/N. Dr. Gaul called him over and the next second he was being escorted away by some peacekeepers, Sejanus’s name was thrown around as well,” He was preoccupied with yelling at Lucky Flickerman, demanding to know what happened with the screen that he didn’t answer more question you threw at him.

You rushed away from him to Dean Highbottom, who laid on the couch adjacent to the 24 desks set up in front of the screen.

“Dean!” he snapped from his slumber, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“What can I do for you, Miss Mars?” he asked, much nicer to you than the rest of the students. It may have had to do with your fathers large donation to the Academy.

“Do you know where Coriolanus went?” you were calmer this time, knowing the Dean’s distaste for your beloved. Dean shrugged, taking a sip of something from a vial – morphling you assumed – before answering you.

“Your friend has something he cares about in that arena, and he went to retrieve it.”

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. It couldn’t be, there was no way Coriolanus would risk his life for Lucy Grays… right?

Before you could think of anything else, your feet were taking you straight home, slamming the front door to your mansion before stomping into the living room, your father laughing while shoving something blue into his mouth.

All his friends were over, them all drinking expensive posca and eating expensive foods while relishing in the death of district children.

“Daddy,”

Your father’s eyes snapped to you, taking in your disheveled appearance, Coryo’s jacket now in your hand, lightly dragging on the marbled floor.

“Yes, sweetheart?” his friends all listening in, them all curious of what could be the matter.

“I want you to start donating to Coral, the girl from 4. From what I saw today, she has a fair chance at winning, very fierce,” it took all of you to restrain from adding, and she’ll take out his little songbird, too.

Your father nodded, grinning that you had finally wanted to make a donation. You had spent the whole past two days moping around and refusing to place any bets on the tributes. Now Mr. Mars could finally send his fortune somewhere.

He trailed over to the superscreen, pressing a few buttons and then clicking CORAL. He sent a few thousand dollars, all his friends doing the same.

You would never mention this to Festus, and especially not to Coriolanus. All that mattered to you was for Lucy Gray to be gone and forgotten, taking her ugly dresses and somber songs with her. You were tired of her intrusions in your life, in the people you loved.

The screen snapped back on, no longer just a black screen with the embalm of the Capitol displayed. No, it showed Sejanus, and Coriolanus, sprinting as fast as they could. The background… well the background was the arena. And there were tributes trailing them. And suddenly you felt very sick.

You knew now why the screen went back, and why Coriolanus went into that arena. Not to save Lucy Gray, no, but to save Sejanus. And all those dollars that your father and his friends had just sent in were now in Festus Creed’s pocket, and his tribute, the girl who was hot on your friend’s trails.

You covered your mouth, feeling like your food from earlier was about to come up. The color was drained from your father and his friends' faces, them all standing, shocked to see the wealthy Plinth boy and noble Snow in the arena housing vicious children. Who, undeniably so, wanted the two of them dead.

Your mind flooded with thoughts, thinking that you would be the one to cause Coryo’s death, it would be your fault if Coral caught up with him, if she reached him in time.

The cameras panned to the exit of the arena, the peacekeepers opening the gate just enough for the two Capitol boys to escape, just enough room for them to slide out.

A breath you didn’t realize you were holding escapes your lips, and you place a hand on your large white couch, steadying yourself.

“Was.. was that the Snow boy, darling?” your father’s voice is faint, you can barely hear it over the ringing in your ears. One of his friends answers for you, and soon another’s hands are on your back, bringing you to sit down in one of the nearby plush chairs.

Lyssie’s dad and one of your father’s closest friends, Dr. Vickers, is soon by your side, feeling your forehead and handing you some ice to place on your face.

All the voices are mixing, blurring together in a fury of anxiety and worry, multiple powerful men all standing around, making sure of your wellbeing.

Finally, after what feels like long treacherous hours, you’re able to squeak out, “I’m fine.”

Your father has an Avox escort you upstairs to your room, with a glass of water and some bright orange pill that is typically used for migraines. You know Dr. Vickers prescribed it, probably the only thing he could possibly think of you having.

You take the small pill, hoping it will give you some sort of relief from your stress. You can’t help but blame yourself, knowing that if he died in there, it would’ve been your fathers money that placed the weapon in Coral’s hands.

You would visit him tomorrow, pretend you had no idea what happened in that arena. You’d have the Avoxe’s clean his uniform coat, and give it back to him, good as new. You would tell him you went to bed early, leaving the viewing room before the television turned off. You would give him no intell that you know he went in there, that you know how Coral got her weapons. It would be a secret, one that you hoped you’d be able to keep.

The medication knocked you out pretty quickly, and you slept for a good 12 hours, waking up around 11 am the next day. You could hear your father downstairs, pacing the marble floors. You know he definitely only went away from the TV while Lucky Flickerman talked about the weather, likely showering or maybe taking a power nap.

If there was one thing your father loved, it was the hunger games.

You pulled on some clean clothes, simple gray pants and a light pink blouse, and made your way downstairs, handing the closest Avox Coryo’s jacket, silently asking them to clean it.

You had no idea how many tributes were left, hopefully only a few. And you still wished one of them wouldn’t be Lucy Gray.

Much to your dismay, she was still very much alive and breathing. Your father stated that Jessup had died earlier that morning, as with one of the other boys, a bloody nose, your father said. What a peculiar way to die.

That left Lucy Gray, Reaper, Wovey, Coral, and one more of her henchmen. The final five. You were nervous yet eager to get down to the Academy, to see Coriolanus and make sure he was alright.

Cook packed you a meal, and you took Coriolanus’s now clean jacket, directing your driver to take you straight to school.

When you arrived, you waltzed in, saying a quick hello to Tigris before rushing over to Coryo, placing his jacket over his chair, and shoving some food into his hands.

“Coryo, eat,” you urged, trying to subtly check out his broad frame for any sort of scar or mark. You saw a large amount of gauze coming out from under his uniform, obviously wrapped around his body.

“Coriolanus, what happened,” you whispered, fingers trailing the gauze. His eyes briefly snapped away from the screen, watching as you inspected his new attire.

“Nothing, fell in the shower last night,” you knew it was lie, but you chose to spare him the argument, sinking back and taking a seat next to Tigris. If anyone could distract you, it would be her.

You all sat for what felt like hours, and then came the announcement. Felix Ravinstill had succumbed to his injuries, and there would be no victor. No tribute deserved to live after the rebel’s merciless killing of the Presiden’t son.

You and Felix weren’t the closet of friends, but you had grown up together, and your fathers had been good to each other. You remembered playing with Felix when the circus would come in town, or running around together at the zoo, faces pressed against the enclosures of various exotic animals.

You covered your mouth with your hand, a gasp falling out, Tigris rubbed your back, her face sharing a pained expression.

When you finally did look away from the screen, Coriolanus was gone. And you didn’t feel like trying to figure out where he went this time.

You were sure it was to go convince Dr. Gaul or Dean Highbottom to spare his rainbow songbird, to save her life, takes his instead.

You were tired of chasing, running down for answers, the puzzle pieces were beginning to click.

You had too much stress already, worrying about the upcoming piano tour your father and President Ravinstill had been planning; wanting for you to tour the districts and give them a sense of national pride. To tell them: I am Panem.

In a way, you were thankful. Your brother, Percy, would be the head peacekeeper on the tour, he’d escort you to all your shows, ride with you on the train. You’d be safe with him, not a thing in the world could touch you.

The concerts were advertised for only the richest and of highest esteem in the districts, you doubted there would be many guests in Districts 11 and 12. Your parents were overwhelmed with pride, you were to be the symbol of the Capitol. A beautiful, talented, young girl. The future of Panem.

You hadn’t told Coriolanus yet, you were planning on telling him once the games were over, once he had won the prize. That way the two of you could celebrate together.

But Coriolanus was soon back, marching straight pass you and Tigris, eyes wide as he watched a tank of colorful serpents being dropped into the vast arena.

You stood at the same time as Tigris, the two of you walking in sync to Coriolanus, both straining your necks to get a better view.

Then the tank came crashing down, and you watched your prized tribute, Coral, go down in a sea of rainbow snakes.

Festus was raging, turning to Coryo, wondering how his delicate little thing hadn’t gone down too.

But she was singing. Go fucking figure.

Murmurs were heard throughout the room, everyone with expectant eyes as you all watched the snakes curl up and around Lucy Gray, but refusing to harm her.

Then they were chanting, calling for her release. You felt the tears spring in your eyes. There was no way she had won. You were sick of this little girl, sick of her obnoxious dresses, long songs, and sick of her hold on Coriolanus.

When Coryo turned around, a grin adorning his face, he noticed your face, a deep frown and glossed eyes, and he knew. He knew you had given up, surrendered the war.

Once he realized the depth of his actions, it was too late. People were being ushered out of the room by peacekeepers, one grabbed your arm, and he lunged forwards, demanding they take their hands off you.

Your eyes stayed on him the whole time as the peacekeeper carried you away. He was left in the room, Dr. Gaul appearing from a dark corner, Dean Highbottom sitting up from the couch.

You shook your head, once, and Coriolanus wanted to cry. Lock himself in his room and cry. He was caught, by both you and the Head Gamemaker. And that was all there was to it. He was done for.

The next thing you knew, you were being marched to a classroom in the back of the Academy, a peacekeeper on each of your sides.

Your father had gotten word of what happened from Serbo Plinth. Coriolanus Snow, being sent to 12. No one knew why, or what prompted the sudden want to be a peacekeeper in the most frowned upon district, but you were determined to find out.

Coryo was in the room alone, a hankerchief and silver compact sitting on the desk in front of him, his hands cuffed on his lap.

His head lifted as you entered the room, a smile quickly onto his lips.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, relief behind his words. He was worried it would be Highbottom again, coming back to remind him how he would never have a future.

You were stone-faced, eyes like a robot. There was no emotion now.

One look on the desk and you knew why he was being sent away, why his decision to leave was so sudden, so hushed.

“You cheated?” it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Coriolanus looked down, shame deep in his stomach, unable to look you in the eye. You had done so much for him, fed him when he was the hungriest, cleaned his clothes when he was the dirtiest, cradled him when he was the most delicate.

“Coriolanus,” his head snapped up at your use of his full name, a slight frown tugging at his lips, threatening to give him away. “I hate you right now, I really do. But my father can get you out of this, he can… he can do something. I don’t know what, but better than 12,” and at the end of the day, you still couldn’t keep yourself from wanting to help him, wanting to ease his pain in any way possible.

“No, Y/N, I can’t–”

“Coryo, he can help you! Somewhere better, nicer conditions–”

“Will you please stop,” he interrupts you, a little more harshly than you liked.

You took an instinctive step back, shaking your head from confusion.

“But you cheated because you needed to win. You seriously don't want to go to 12, do you?”

He left your question sitting uncomfortably in the air. The tension was so thick, it could’ve been cut by a knife.

It dawned on you then, all your previous fears proving truer by the minute.

“You seriously don’t want to go to 12, do you, Coriolanus?” you urged on, almost on the brink of tears. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

When he didn’t answer, you took that as all the confirmation you needed, turning on your heel and stomping to the door.

You cleared your throat, slightly turning around, Coryo’s head turning as well.

You made the strongest eye-contact you could muster, narrowing your eyes.

He flinched under your harsh gaze, and you gave him one last look up and down before spitting venom at him.

“I hope she’s dead once you get there.”

Coriolanus couldn’t stop himself from thinking about the last words you said to him. He knew the power your family held, the immense amounts of influence.

Just the snap of your father’s fingers would send Lucy Gray six feet under in seconds.

It was the only thing on his mind when he traveled to the train station.

Would you take it that far? Did your hatred for her — hatred that he had brewed — really settled that far deep in your soul?

He thought he knew you well, but with this, he just couldn’t read you.

The walk to the train station was short. He had one trunk, scarcely filled with various items. A t-shirt, extra pair of pants. A few photos, that was really all.

Dean Highbottom had assured him that the peacekeeper base in 12 would have everything he needed, there was no reason to fret over forgetting something.

So, as he sat inside the train, looking outside the window to the mostly empty platform, the only thing he could worry about was what he would find in 12.

Would she be alive? Or would you have reached her first?

His thoughts weren’t all in vain, no. He heard a loud, “wait!”

Your voice. He could recognize it anywhere.

He stood up, hands pressed to the glass, searching for where you were coming from.

Who were you yelling for? Him? You had been stern with your words, he was sure you’d never want to see him again.

But then he saw him. Sejanus.

Sejanus turned at the sound of your voice, first a perplexed look on his face, and then a smile.

Then Coryo saw you, running, your long yellow dress following you, a blur of hair and white heels as you moved as quickly as you could.

You were holding something, a necklace? A bracelet, maybe? He couldn’t tell, but he could see it swinging in your palm.

You finally reached Sejanus, a peacekeeper on your trail, telling you that you must leave, now.

You ignored him, brushing off his hand that settled on your shoulder.

Coryo heard you hiss at him, “get off me!”

He smiled, there was your feistiness that he began to miss.

“Y/N,” Sejanus breathed out, eyes soft and a big smile on his face.

You felt a twinge of guilt in your stomach for what you were about to do, but Sejanus had always been a close friend. You knew that he would make a fine man, he was sweet, empathetic, and caring.

He would do just fine.

One look to your left, you saw Coriolanus’s face in a train window not too far from where you stood. He was staring straight at your face, mouth slightly agape, and curiosity in his eyes.

You reminded yourself, he deserved this. You deserved it as well, someone better.

The two of you held eye-contact for a brief moment before you turned back to Sejanus, and launched yourself at him.

Your hungry lips met his, and you were up on your tiptoes, arms wrapping around his neck.

Sejanus was taken aback, but soon his hands were resting on your hips, and he was kissing you back.

It was gentle, slow. Nothing like kissing Coryo, but you pushed all those memories to the back of your mind, knowing if you thought about it too long you’d cry.

You opened your eyes, Sejanus’s still closed, and made direct eye contact with Coriolanus.

He was seething, you could tell. His mouth downturned in a scowl as you continued to move your lips against Sejanus’s.

Finally, after what you decided was enough torture, you pulled back, and placed the necklace you had been holding in his hand.

He looked down, wondering, creasing his eyebrows together.

“A token. To remember me by,” you smiled, closing his palm around the chain.

It was a long gold chain, one that likely cost a fortune, with a small gold plate, your initial carved into it. A small ruby stone sat at the top, one to match the ring you never took off.

You knew Sejanus would wear it everyday, never taking it off. And that’s all you needed. For Coriolanus to see the token every day, to see your initial, your stone. To know that wherever he went, you’d be following.

Sejanus thanked you, left a kiss to your cheek, and placed the chain around his neck, waving to you as he boarded the train, a grin never leaving his features.

You began to feel bad, but you knew you could form feelings for him. They’d never be as strong as your feelings for Coryo, but they’d do. Sejanus had a fortune at his feet, he would be able to give you the life you deserved, even if it wasn’t the one you wanted.

When Sejanus took a seat across from Coryo, a grin was wide across his features, and Coryo wanted to reach across the seat and smack it off his face.

He had watched you place a chain in Sejanus’s hands, but it was now that he could finally get a look.

The ruby left a raging feeling in his gut, remembering the words he had spoken to you in times of intimacy.

“…a new ruby ring every birthday. Darling, it’s all for you,”

He watched with envy as Sejanus traced his finger along the carving of your initial, hand balled in a fist under the table.

Sejanus had surprised him, unwilling for him to travel to 12 alone. “That’s what friends do,” he had said.

But Coriolanus knew that a friend wouldn’t be dreaming about ripping the others' head off.

And that’s when he knew he had to take Sejanus out. One way or another.

Your tour around the districts had been going magnificently. Better than you ever could have hoped. Persephone insisted on coming with you, declaring you needed support after everything that happened with Coryo.

Somehow, the situation had brought the two of you together, forming a sister-bond that you had never experienced before.

Percy was your personal peacekeeper, his room always connected to yours, his body always hovering slightly behind as you walked around the districts, meeting various people and sightseeing around.

The three of you stayed in the Crane’s various hotels, given the nicest rooms, and best service. After all, you were Panem’s Princess.

But once you reached District 11, it all started to go down.

President Ravinstill insisted you do the districts in order, starting with One and ending with Twelve. “Give them something to look forward to,” he had said.

You were worried for the poorer districts, you couldn’t lie. The people were more violent, dirtier. They would risk their lives to try and kill you, the precious gem of the Capitol.

Connection was compliance, and you knew these people hated anyone having to do with President Ravinstill. He had punished them tirelessly after the war, and didn’t seem to be letting up any time soon.

You were scared someone would throw themselves up onto the stage as you played, maybe charge into your dressing room with a knife after the show. You had no idea what to expect. You hadn’t seen these districts apart from their features once a year at the reapings.

You had vacationed to Districts One and Two before the war, when your family would parade around with the Cranes to their various homes. But now, you were in the last two districts, and though all your other shows had gone marvelously, you were sure they wouldn’t all be good. One had to be an outlier.

District 11 was kind to you when you first arrived, a little girl had walked up to you at the station, holding a small pink flower. Percy stood straight next to you, guarding you from any potential danger this flower could harm.

“It’s alright, Perse,” you assured him, taking the flower from the little girl’s hands.

“You look like a princess,” she had spoken, big eyes raking up and down your travel outfit, which was likely more expensive than all the money she would ever make.

You giggled at her compliment, gracefully accepting it, and holding the flower close to your heart.

Just as you were about to compliment her little dress, Percy pushed you backwards, yelling for you and Persephone to get back onto the train.

You looked around in confusion, Percy’s backup peacekeepers coming out and grabbing your arms, pulling you back into the comforts of the bullet-proof train, one especially made for Capitol citizens.

Your eyes darted around as they continued to pull you, the sound of gunshots being the only thing you could hear. You were suddenly hyper-aware, realizing that Percy had just raced after whatever was posing the threat.

You thrashed against the peacekeeper's hard grip, trying to get back to the little girl, watching as people ran across the station; she was likely to get trampled.

“Help her!” you screamed, motioning for the multiple peacekeepers surrounding you to go help the frightened little girl.

She was looking around, shaking profusely. No one knew what was happening, only that there had been rebels waiting outside the underground station, wanting to get their hands on the three holders of the Mars fortune.

The loud boom of the bombs then began to fall, and you fell to the ground, Persephone coming down next to you. She grabbed you, pulling you into her lap, and the two of you covered your heads with your arms, like you had been trained to do during the war.

A peacekeeper was on top of you two, gun positioned up as more went out to shoot at the innocent civilians who were just trying to escape.

You felt sick, like you were going to throw up. So this was how President Ravinstill was punishing the districts? By shooting them at random and trampling them in public spaces?

You resonated with his loss of Felix, his only child, but to you, this seemed extreme. You suddenly realized that Sejanus had been right the whole time; the government was meant to protect its people, not kill them.

Finally, the shaking and sounds stopped, and a peacekeeper took your hand to help you stand, legs wobbly from the fear still coursing throughout your body.

When he placed his hands on your hips to ensure you could stand, it reminded you too much of Coriolanus, and you broke, “get your hands off me!”

He was taken aback, hands immediately leaving your body, and giving you a bewildered look. You realized he was only trying to help, and apologized, smoothing down your long dress.

Percy finally returned, engulfed you into his arms, and you began your trek to the Peacekeeper barracks, where the President now wished for you to stay.

You hated the idea of living among hundreds of men, but there was nowhere else you’d be safer. Percy assured you that he’d sleep in the bunk next to yours, it would just be you and your siblings in the room, no one else. You finally agreed, realizing you really didn’t want to sleep alone after that rebel scare.

Percy explained it all to you on the ride to the barracks. Some rebels knew when your train was arriving, and they had planned to grab you and run, from what he saw, there were a lot of them, definitely enough to take you if they hadn’t last-minute called for extra peacekeepers. They had feared something like this would happen, especially after Reaper’s public humiliation of the Capitol in the games.

They got a few of the rebels, and they were currently being sent to the Capitol for interrogation. Percy said they would have more information in a few hours, once Dr. Gaul had received the men.

Your mind was going a mile a minute, trying to comprehend all the information you just received. Someone was trying to kill you? To take you and run, then kill you later, broadcasting all around the districts? Showing the Capitol that they can kill, but the districts can too?

Your stomach began to turn. You were absolutely dreading your performance that night. Originally, it had been planned that you would do two shows in each district, except 12. But you had managed to pull a few strings, and now had one night in 11 and two nights in 12.

You wanted to see Sejanus. To kiss him again, dance with him. You knew deep down that you really longed to see Coriolanus, to see if Lucy Gray was still alive. You had been writing to Sejanus, and he had been sending you updates.

He claimed it was so dark and dreary there, everyone was poor, dirty. He wanted to help them but he didn’t know how. The last thing you wanted was Sejanus to be killed for being an accomplice to some rebels, so you reminded him to just lay low. Do his duties, and then come home as soon as possible.

The only thing on your mind the entire time you performed in 11, went to bed, and then boarded the train the next morning was seeing him again. Coriolanus. You had pushed him to the back of your head, trying your hardest to forget about him and all his stolen promises. But as you came closer and closer to seeing him again, you couldn’t keep the thoughts contained anymore.

And as the train zoomed past the break in the gate that read “District Twelve”, your stomach began to twist.

Sejanus had bought tickets for your show tonight, three, enough for him, Coriolanus, and Lucy Gray to all attend.

Coriolanus didn’t think it was right for Lucy Gray to go. After all, she was the reason that you kissed Sejanus, the reason that he was now stuck in District 12, when he should really be in the Capitol, with you.

He was excited for the performance, he couldn’t lie. He had told Lucy Gray not to come, that she would hate it. Besides, Lucy Gray had her own show that night. She was not happy that Coriolanus was skipping it to see you, but nothing had progressed between the two of them. They hadn’t kissed, they had barely spoken. But she didn’t know of your history with Coriolanus, all she knew was that she had once persuaded him to profess his love for you, and now, there she was, the man she loved skipping her performance for his ex-lovers.

Sejanus didn’t know, nobody did. No one knew of the nights the two of you spent, the moment in the coat closet, the whispered promises in moments of passion.

Coriolanus still hoped that you were holding out for him, despite your goodbye kiss with Sejanus. He had wanted to strangle Sejanus on the spot, but he knew something would arise, something that he could turn him in for. Sejanus could never stay away from a “good cause”, and Coriolanus had finally caught him. He had given some rebels money, and Coriolanus fully planned on turning him in.

The two of them took their seats in the small amphitheater. It was the only one that Twelve had, and it could fit maybe 100 people. That meant only the richest in all of Twelve. You doubted all the seats would fill, but you really just wanted to finish the show and see the boys. That’s all you wanted.

So when you walked out on stage, wearing a camel-colored dress and a big black bow in your hair, Coriolanus thought he was going to faint.

He was curious about which songs you would choose to play. You hadn’t played A Snow Waltz since your very first performance, and Coriolanys doubted you would play it tonight. But each night, without fail, you sang. And the songs were usually from the old world, each one somehow resonating with the District you were in. It was your touch. You got to pick what you performed, the one thing that the President gave you freewill over.

Tonight, you had chosen A Snow Waltz. You had changed the name on the program, therefore no one would be able to predict it. But as soon as your fingers began to dance along the keys, Coriolanus began to melt, immediately recognizing the piece.

You knew he would recognize it, that was the whole reason you chose it. It was for him, everything always was. And so, when you sang the same song that you had played the very first time, the very first song you had sang to the people of Panem, Coriolanus knew. He knew that he had to win you back, no matter what it took.

You were showered with praise, bowing before the people of Twelve. You had to admit, they had been a better audience than you expected.

And when a white rose fell at your feet, you looked up, eyes meeting those cold ones that belonged to Coriolanus.

He offered you a slight smile, which turned to a grin when you smiled back.

After the show, Sejanus had been escorted back to your dressing room, swooping you into his arms and kissing all over your face, begging you to join him at the bar.

“I don’t know if that is really my scene, Sej,” you rubbed your arm awkwardly, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N/N, I promise, I’ll make it worth your while!”

You dressed in the most normal outfit you had packed, a short white dress with bell sleeves, lace trimming the neckline and sleeves.

It was a dress you picked up in District One, Persephone commenting how it went great with your hair and eyes.

You put on your tan boots, and tied them up. You looked like someone from the districts, and if it weren’t for the big ruby ring on your middle finger, and perfectly done makeup upon your face, you could’ve possibly passed for a district girl.

You left the big black bow in your hair, wanting to keep a piece of your distinct style with you, despite all your clothing being picked up on your journey around Panem.

You saw your necklace still around Sejanus’s neck, and it gave you a sense of pride, knowing Coriolanus definitely had spotted it too, probably grinding his teeth to keep himself from launching at Sejanus from across the room.

So finally, when you had convinced Percy that you’d be safe with Sejanus and all the other peacekeepers who were going, you linked arms with Sejanus and let him lead you away.

But when you walked into the club with Sejanus, and there was an old-feeling country song on, you pulled him into the middle of the dancefloor and demonstrated the moves you had danced to alone in your bedroom, for many, many years. Dancing like this would have never been allowed in the Capitol. If your father saw you flipping your hair around and jumping with a bunch of strangers, he’d probably have dropped dead.

You didn’t even realize it was Lucy Gray performing until you spinned in Sejanus’s arms, eyes meeting hers. You froze, watching her mouth move to the lyrics of the song she sang at the reaping.

You watched her eyes slightly narrow before she smiled at you, and before you could stop yourself, you were smiling back, continuing to spin in Sej’s arms.

Coriolanus watched from a corner deep in the bar, eyes on you and your tiny dress, when they really should’ve been on Lucy Gray. But he couldn’t look away. Not from the beaming smile upon your lips, or the way your hair flew as Sejanus spinned you to the beat of the song.

When Lucy Gray finished her song, she announced your presence, and all the blood suddenly drained from your face. You had no idea what she was doing, but the whoops from the people throughout the small place assured you that your presence was welcomed.

“Come up and sing us a song, Y/N!” Lucy Gray reached out for your hand, tugging you up onto the stage. Coriolanus wondered what game she was playing at, eyes narrowing as you walked up the steps to the stage, a light blush dotting your cheeks.

You walked up to the microphone, pushing the hair out of your face. Sejanus was right below you, and you knew that if anything were to happen, he would be the first to you, pulling you away from the danger.

“Hi everyone, I’m Y/N,” you speak into the microphone, giggling as the whole bar begins to cheer, begging you to sing them a song. You didn’t realize people enjoyed your music so much.

“I don’t have my piano! What am I supposed to perform?” you asked them, various people shouting at you to just sing instead.

“Alright, I guess I will. This song I wrote myself, to help me cope with a particularly hard situation. I hope you all like it.”

Coriolanus wondered what you could’ve been talking about, but then your voice invaded his senses and he brought the bottle of alcohol to his lips, taking a long sip. His eyes never once left your body, his gaze making you feel hot.

“I’m tired of this place, I hope people change,” you smiled to the crowd, this song was more upbeat than any of the others you had ever sang.

“I need time to replace what I gave away, and my hopes they are high, I must keep them small,” the crowd swayed along to your mesmerizing voice, Lucy Gray suddenly feeling very jealous of the way you commanded attention.

“Though I try to resist, I still want it all! I see swimming pools, and living rooms, and aeroplanes, I see a little house on a hill and children’s names,” you began to move as you sang, the microphone in your hand. Even Lucy Gray and the Covey began to dance, your words getting faster by the second.

“But everything shattered and it’s my mistake, only fools fall for you, only fools fall,” Coriolanus was suddenly hyperaware. Every song you had performed that night was because of him. He didn’t know if he should feel great shame or great pride.

“Only fools do what I do, only fools fall,”

And suddenly the Covey was grabbing their instruments, forging a beat to go along with the song. You smiled over your shoulder, the few members giving you encouraging nods.

People started to cheer, obviously liking the way you demanded their attention.

“Oh, our lives don’t collide, I’m aware of this, we’ve got differences, and impulses,”

Your eyes met Coriolanus’s, and you grinned, his face soon matching the giddy expression.

“And your obsession with the little things. I don’t care at all, I’m not giving up!”

People cheered again, and you watched as Coryo slowly made his way through the crowd, trying to get a better view of you performing.

“I still want it all!”

You giggled as you twirled around the stage, lyrics continuing to pour from your mouth. You thought you made your message pretty clear, but when you watched both Coryo and Sejanus disappear down a hall, you briefly lost your liveliness and wrapped up the song with a loud, “Thank you all!”

You rushed down the side-stairs, and went straight down the hallway that your two boys disappeared down. You could hear raised voices, though the words were muffled through the thick walls.

You pushed open the door, a gun immediately being pointed in your face.

“Spruce, it’s alright,” Sejanus assured, but Coryo was first to you, his hands pushing you behind him.

A girl with red hair was eyeing you from across the room, her eyes raking over your expensive jewelry and pretty clothing.

“And who’s this?” the man – Spruce, you assumed – asked, motioning his gun to your body hidden behind Coriolanus.

“You don’t look at her,” Coryo seethed out, one hand snaking behind him to hold your waist against his body, and another out in front of him, keeping Spruce and the two other strangers at bay.

Sejanus mistook his possessiveness for just wanting to protect an old friend, but you and Coriolanus both knew that the protection meant something else.

So Coryo still wanted you as badly as you wanted him? Did he regret going to Twelve? You supposed there was no bad blood with Lucy Gray after she brought you up onto her stage, so clearly nothing had happened in the few weeks the boys had been in Twelve.

Your hands balled in the back of Coryo’s shirt, the harsh fabric being the only thing grounding you right then.

You closed your eyes, reminding yourself to breathe, but your eyes snapped open as the red-haired girl began to cackle. You peeked your head out from behind Coryo, trying to get a better look.

Her head was thrown back in mock-amusement, another man, Billy (maybe?), trying to calm her down, a hand on her shoulder.

She saw you peeking around, and as she took in your hair, your eyes, and your figure, realization dawned on her. There was no one as pretty as you in Twelve. Probably in all of the districts! You weren’t a district girl, no way.

“Oh! It’s the Capitol Princess! I should’ve known! Billy, why don’t you try to bed that songbird too, huh? Or I can just tell my Daddy about –” she shut up at the sound of a gunshot, Spruce had shot at the ceiling, causing you to jump and shriek. You hated the violence.

“Spruce!” the other man yelled at him, back to the other girl. There was fire burning behind her eyes, and you finally recognized her as the girl that Lucy Gray had attacked with a snake at the reaping. You understood now. She really was insufferable.

“Control your woman, Billy Taupe.”

With that, Billy turned around, reaching out for the girl. “Mayfair, just settle down. The girl ain’t gonna say a thing…” you had no idea what was going on, your vision still slightly blocked.

“Sejanus, what were you thinking?” Coryo roars, the anger in his voice would’ve made you cower if you were on the receiving end.

You slowly began to peek out from Coryo, hand on his lower back as you tucked yourself into his side, his hand instinctively wrapping around you.

“They told me it was for supplies! Not guns! I didn’t know, I swear–”

“And you trusted them?”

Coryo sounds the angriest you’ve ever heard him. You look up at his face, eyes softening as you read it as fear. He was scared.

“Coryo,” you coo, hand rubbing his hip. The second his eyes locked down on you, he was calm, trying to steady his breathing.

“Sejanus,” your voice was soft, cutting through the thick tension in the room. Sej looked at you, and you saw how upset he was.

“We’ll go to Percy. He can fix this, I promise,”

But you spoke too soon, because Mayfair was now yelling again, this time straight in your direction. And then you realized your mistake.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re related to Major Percy Mars too? Oh this will be so good. Just wait until my daddy hears that a Capitol Mars girl is an accomplice! You’re all–” her words were cut off when Coryo lunged for one of the guns sitting in the middle table, lifting it up and firing it directly into the middle of Mayfair’s chest. You yelped, jumping backwards into Coryo’s open arms, him bringing your face into his chest, shielding you from the blood pouring onto the floor.

You heard screams, likely from the Billy boy, and then Spruce trying to resonate with him. Sejanus’s laboring breathing was loud, and you tried to focus on your own as you heard the men around you fight.

“You killed her,” Billy spoke, and you finally looked up, tear brimmed eyes meeting Coryo’s. He placed his hands on either side of your face, crouching so your noses were touching.

“Hey, listen to me. We’re gonna be fine, alright. I’m not gonna let anyone touch you,”

His words settled you, and you nodded, turning your head slightly to the sound of Billy’s raised voice.

“You think you’re gonna walk away free from this? I don’t think so, Capitol Pretty Boy. If I swing, you’re swinging with me,”

Another gunshot, you covered your ears, watching Billy Taupe fall to the floor next to his Mayfair.

“I didn’t trust him anyways,” Spruce shrugged, slinging the gun over his shoulder.

Coryo was moving fast, wrapping the guns that Sejanus paid for into a large duffle bag, and shoved it into Spruce’s arms.

“Get rid of these, Spruce, go!” and Spruce was running out the room, disappearing into the darkness outside.

You were shaking, staring at the two dead bodies on the floor, blood pouring out in what seemed never-ending quantities.

Coryo’s hands were on your shoulders, leading you out of the room. He was shouting things at Sejanus over his shoulder, but the ringing in your ears wouldn’t let you focus on what he was saying.

When you re-entered the bar, Lucy Gray watched with confused eyes as Coryo lead you away, a shaken Sejanus following. Coryo’s protective grip was the only thing you could focus on the entire walk back to the Peacekeeper barracks.

Finally when you returned, Coryo sent Sejanus straight to their bunks and walked you to your shared room with your siblings.

“Don’t tell them anything,” Coryo whispered, frantic eyes searching your features for a sign of distress. You nodded, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“I wasn’t gonna let them hurt you, Y/N.”

You looked up at him, wide and glossy eyes meeting his stern ones. Ice cold but softening when they saw your fear.

“I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he left a haste kiss to your lips, which you barely had time to process before Percy was opening the door, saying goodnight to Coryo, and pulling you into the room.

He hadn’t liked the idea of you going out in the first place, so there was no way you were going to tell him what happened in the small back room of the dreary bar you were in.

They could tell something was wrong, but they didn’t push it. Persephone took Coryo’s presence as more than an answer and helped you undress and get into bed.

You kept Coryo’s secret and screwed your mouth shut, answering their surface-level question with one-word, assuring them you were fine, just tired.

They finally left you alone and you rolled onto your side, facing the wall. You didn’t sleep a second that night.

The next morning you awoke from loud yelling outside your door, Percy quick to his feet to examine what was the matter.

He was out there for a few moments before rushing back in, words spilling from his mouth, “Dress quickly, they’ve found rebels and we all must attend.”

You got out of bed, fearing that they had found out about Coriolanus and Sejanus. You pulled on a white skirt and light pink blouse, slipped into the boots you wore last night, and didn't bother to do your hair or makeup.

Percy had a protective hand on your shoulder as the three of you made your way to the District Square, you couldn’t help but think the worst. You knew they had done something punishable by death, but was it possible that Spruce had been caught immediately? It was the Peacekeeper’s night off, there were none on duty. How could they have found the guns that quickly?

Peacekeepers situated the three of you in the front, your hand intwined with Persephone’s. You spotted Coryo in front of the stage and you smiled, a relieved laugh falling from your lips. Percy looked down at you, bewildered, and you managed to squeak out an excuse. The last thing you needed was to involve your Major brother.

Coryo’s face was stiff, but he met your eye and nodded to you, acknowledging that everything would be okay. You strained your neck looking for Sejanus, wanting to make sure he was alright too. But he was nowhere in sight.

Commander Hoff took the stage, and you saw Spruce standing on his other side, your entire face dropping. “No..” you whispered out, Percy’s harsh gaze shutting you up.

“Three years, I fought for the Capitol during the war. I’ve been angry, but this is the first time I’ve felt ashamed…Get the other one up here!” and then you knew. You knew that Sejanus had been caught.

Two Peacekeepers pushed their way through the audience, Sejanus’s beat up body being held up in between them.

“No!” you shrieked as he passed you, Percy’s arms wrapping around your waist to keep you from chasing after him.

Everyone turned to look. The Capitol Princess throwing a fit over a Peacekeeper being a traitor. They wondered why you weren’t shot on sight for thrashing in the arms of another Peacekeeper.

“Let him go! Let him go!” you wailed and kicked Percy with your legs as he held you back into his chest, Persephone’s hand slapping over your mouth to keep you quiet.

You reached out your hands to grab Sejanus, but then moved them down to Percy’s arms to unravel them from your body.

Coryo winced as your sobs echoed from the mouths of the mockingjays, large tears spilling from your eyes and falling to the ground.

You heard as Sejanus called out for Coryo while he was being pulled up the stairs, and then onto the stage as the noose was wrapped around his neck.

Persephone instinctively removed her hand when you bit down on it, once again screaming for your friend.

“Please, Sejanus! No!” Everyone ignored you, heads hung low as your blood-curdling weeps were heard for miles.

“He didn’t do anything wrong!” you insisted, another Peacekeeper coming to help Percy keep you restrained. You knew this would make its way back to the Capitol somehow, but you didn’t care. Your father and President Ravinstill would excuse it for the sympathy of a dear friend, and pardon you. But as you watched Sejanus struggle for his life, you wished you could do something greater to help.

“The Capitol has received word via jabberjay that these two men conspired to break into our base’s jail and flee north. To release this terrorist from captivity,” the Commander motioned behind him to a woman, one you didn’t recognize.

You looked around, everyone stone-faced and silent. You didn’t understand how they could all be bystanders, but then understood that their death’s meant much less than yours did. In the eyes of the President and Capitol anyways.

“I’d expect this from a rebel, but not from one of our own. This is treason, plain and simple!”

Then, a loud recording sounded out, Sejanus’s voice filled your senses. For the first time in what felt like eternity, you looked at Coryo, tears slightly overlapping your vision. He was breathing heavily, slightly shaking. Sejanus began to scream for Coryo again, and you had to turn away, face in Percy’s chest.

He wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you closer. Then the stage gave, and you heard the loud cracks as the three of their neck’s gave out. You shuddered and felt Percy pick you up into his arms and push through the crowd, heading back for the base.

He’d probably scold you for making such a scene, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was that Sejanus was dead, and it was likely your fault.

When you finally got back to the room, Percy laid you on your bed, silent as he paced the room, tugging at his hair. The Plinth’s were your closest family friends. Sejanus’s death hit the three of you hard. Persephone immediately went to the phone, dialing your mother, small whimpers falling from her lips.

You cried into your pillow, soaking it with salty tears. You heard ruffling around, assuming Percy was packing up all your bags, not wanting to disturb your mourning.

You had eventually dozed off, but were woken by Persephone lightly shaking you awake. “Coriolanus Snow is at the door for you,” she lightly smiled, no anger or annoyance dripped in her words. You supposed she was being kind about Coryo due to the day’s earlier events.

You nodded, pushing up off the bed, and made your way to the door.

And there Coryo was, stoic as ever. He immediately pulled you into his arms, stroking your hair with his hand while the other was tight around your waist.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he murmured, letting you whimper into his chest. He would never tell you that he sent the mockingjay, that Sejanus’s blood was on his hands. You would never forgive him.

When you pulled back, you spotted the necklace that you had given Sejanus hanging around Coryo’s neck, where it should be. You had originally bought it for him, but felt it shouldn’t go to waste.

Coryo watched as you ran your fingers over the solid gold, tracing the red ruby.

“He gave it to me, last night,” Coryo whispered.

“He saw the way you clung to me, and knew, I guess. Said it should belong to me. And I couldn’t argue with him there.”

“He was right,” you whispered, finally cracking a smile.

He let you relish in the happiness for a moment, before lightly crouching to be at your level.

“Lucy Gray found out where the gun is. The one used on Mayfair. I’m going with her to get rid of it, and then I’ll be back. No loose ends.” You nodded at his words, but extremely afraid.

“Does that mean Lucy Gray too?” you held the cold gold in your hands, the refreshing chill calming your senses.

“I…I haven’t decided yet. I don’t think she’s a threat, but you never know, I suppose.”

You didn’t think Lucy Gray should die, not anymore. She hadn’t really done anything wrong, just survived. You felt bad for her more than anything.

“Don’t hurt her unless you have to, Coryo. All she’s done is survive.” Coryo nodded at your words and pulled you into his chest, your lips connecting.

An unspoken goodbye, in case he didn’t return.

“I love you,” you pulled away from him, hand running through his buzzed hair.

“I love you more,”

You’d find out later that night that Lucy Gray had been “taken care of” in Coryo’s words, and soon you were sitting next to him on the train home, fingers playing with his as you neared the Capitol entrance.

10 years later…

Lucky Flickerman stood atop the glimmering stage, Coriolanus on his left side, and Festus Creed on his other.

You and Tigris sat in the front row, hands enclosed around each other. Yours and Coryo’s four-year-old son is on your other side, he is dressed in a sharp deep blue suit and his blond hair slicked back. He looks just like Coriolanus, holding your hand and swaying his feet out of impatience in his seat.

His name is Apollo Crassus Snow, and his name precedes him. He is like a ball of sunshine, always smiley and begging you to sing for him. He reminded you just of his father when he was that age.

“And now I am pleased to announce the final round of votes is in!” Lucky exclaims, looking over to Coryo who offers him a charming smile, eyes flickering down to you in the audience. You offer him a beaming smile, assuring him that you’ll be with him, no matter what happens.

What feels like a torturously long few minutes as Lucky asks Coryo and Festus each their last few questions, he finally turns to the audience, and announces what everyone has been waiting for.

“I am proud to announce the President-Elect for Panem is… Coriolanus Snow!”

Clapping breaks out in the large amphitheater, and a grin takes over your features, watching as Coriolanus waves out to the crowd, a broad smile upon his lips.

“As my first duty as president of Panem, I’d like to invite my magnificent wife and son up on stage,” he is as charming as ever, extending his hand to where you and Apollo sit in the front row.

Apollo is up immediately, holding his little hand out for you to take. The audience oohs-and-awes as you take his hand, laughing as your little boy leads you up the stairs.

Your white dress trails along the ground. It was an exact replica of the dress you wore for your first ever performance, just colored as white as snow, as Coriolanus had stated.

The two of you make it up the stairs, and Coriolanus scoops Apollo up into his arms, setting him onto his hip, and pulling you tight against his other side, a hand wrapping around your waist.

His deep-scarlet colored three-piece suit mixes perfectly with yours and Apollo’s outfits, the Snow family looking like perfect Panem royalty.

You beam and wave out to the crowd, acting like the perfect First Lady.

Apollo waves as well, his hand going wild. You and Coriolanus giggle at your son, the perfect first-child of Panem. He was beautiful, like a little model, and his spirit made him magnetic.

You were so lucky.

Coriolanus then slightly leans forward to once again speak into the microphone, thanking the crowd for believing in him from the beginning and giving him the prestigious responsibility of ruling the ever-flourishing Panem.

When he leans back, the crowd erupts into the loudest applause you’ve ever heard, and you all wave goodbye before being escorted off the stage and into the banquet hall, where the Presidential Gala would now be held.

That night, after you and Coriolanus tucked Apollo into his new majestic room, the two of you curled into your new bedroom, a large four-poster bed with golden tapestries around each side.

The walls were tall and painted a dark red, gold piping along the many walls. Different portraits hung around the room, but the one above your bed, that Coriolanus had made sure was the first installed, included the portrait he commissioned after Apollo’s birth.

You sat in the middle, a long silk dress hanging off your immaculate figure. Coriolanus stood behind you, a hand pressed to your shoulder, and the other supporting the child you cradled in your arms. It was his favorite, showcasing the most important things in his life.

You laid against his chest, playing with the gold embalm that laid against his heart, your initial traced into it.

“Darling,” his voice cuts you out out your trance, and you look up, meeting his eyes.

“I have something for you,” he smiles, reaching over to his nightstand.

“Oh, Coriolanus, it’s your day, you don’t need to give me anything..” your words trail off as he opens the small black velvet case, revealing the most ornate and beautiful ruby ring you had ever seen.

Coryo had stuck to his promise, gifting you a new, and more expensive, ruby ring for every one of your birthdays. They gained size each year, and began to be cut into more complex shapes and sizes.

This one was huge, shimmering from the moonlight streaming in. A halo of diamonds surrounded the large oval-shaped stone, with another halo of sapphires behind the small diamonds.

You were speechless, mouth agape as you stared at the ring. The last piece of jewelry you had received that even compared to this one was your engagement ring, which was the biggest diamond ever crafted in Panem’s history.

Coryo wiped the stray tear that slipped from your eye, and then took your hand, slipping the heavy ring onto your middle finger.

“It’s beautiful, Coryo,” you smiled, admiring the beautiful creation.

“This is all for you, my love. And I never want you to forget it.”

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