Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely."
— Lord Acton

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."
— Martin Luther King Jr.

"The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire."
— Ferdinand Foch

"All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others"
— George Orwell

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“Lucy Gray... We won. Today, we are both entering this train as victors.”

After a successful, 2-week tour throughout Panem, when the journalists finally left their train, Coriolanus Snow pulled Lucy Gray Baird's hand and they quickly rushed to escape as far as possible to the furthest side of one of the train carriages. They were all over each other this entire time, and without even changing from their tour giving clothes, the youthful souls fell to the train’s floor, accompanied by the girl's loud laughter. 

Both were not at all concerned by the rumpled clothes — Coriolanus without regret examined Lucy Gray's slightly damaged green, fluffy dress, with artificial orange flowers all over its pattern, which he accidentally crushed with his weight. 

The most important thing is that they are together now. Their hands intertwined with each other, and Snow nuzzled Lucy Gray's slender neck. She was still quite thin to touch, but at least she no longer resembled the bag of bones she had when they first met – the Capitol treated her quite nicely, much to Coriolanus’ satisfaction, as she deserved the treat, to fit her title as the “Victor of 10th Hunger Games”

Lucy Gray raised her head and through her already messy hair, forced Snow to look into her dark eyes, which were sparkling like a bunch of fireworks. She was happy.

“Did you see how people applauded?! I thought that no one would show up, and those grains that did will only boo me. But look how many people gathered in each of the Districts!” Lucy Gray was used only to sing for the Hob or bushes, scattered around District 12 — the fate definitely did not mean to play out like this, that the organization of her ‘Victory Tour’ would make a single little birdie with heart-melting songs to perform for almost the whole Panem. 

“Yes, yes, yes. You were inimitable, my dear songbird.”

He was definitely proud of himself. In order for this tour to take place at all, Snow had to try very, VERY hard, pull all possible and impossible strings, and also resort to her own eloquence just so that it would be approved by the Academy, organizers and the Gamemakers — of course no show connected to the Hunger Games could go on without Volumnia Gaul, who, by some of rumors, even dragged a political figure into sponsoring of the tour all to help her guinea pig (also known as her future successor) and his rebellious, free spirited girl from the dumps of Panem.  

But, as soon as he put his tired head on her shoulder and felt her stroking his already grown out hair, Coriolanus understood that it was all worth it: this was truly a success of the Snow family. 

Residents of the Districts could talk as much as they wanted about Lucy Gray's victory, but this was only because Coriolanus himself allowed them to think so. In this dragged game he is the actual victor. Even if the girl who is now messing his hair had no idea about it. 

Lucy Gray tried to mutter a quiet song, but Snow covered her mouth with his hand and teasingly waved his index finger in front of her face. 

“No need for this now. Better take care of this voice of yours my treasure, you've been performing all day today — aren’t you tired? 

"Not at all," Lucy Gray wiped the sweat from her face while a completely white hand, once soft, but now roughed up from physical work, gently ran across her tanned cheek. 

“And what is it? Did you really get tired of my voice so quickly?” Lucy Gray's words seemed absurd to Coriolanus.

He, one might say, breathed her songs — they were created to lead him forward, and Lucy Gray herself was born to become his precious muse. He again ran his finger over her slightly cracked, thin lips and whispered, thinking that he was giving the girl a compliment:

"The lyrics of the songs that the stewards gave you were just terrible. Only your voice saved them, know it.”

“Not funny,” Coriolanus definitely did not expect to be cut off by his girl so abruptly, as Lucy Gray jokingly pursed her lips.

“Oh, come on, smile — tomorrow is an important day; we are finally returning home.” 

Snow spoke with delight, but the girl never had any particular passion for the Capitol, her hatred for which intensified, after this very city forced her to stain her hands up to her elbows in blood, all for some Capitol entertainment. But for the sake of her man, she was ready to endure these fairy tales about “home”, as she knew it made him happy when they were on the same page. 

The girl expectedly took both of his hands and Coriolanus immediately understood what she wanted to hear from him.

“Your tour is just the beginning. We will raise the morale of the Districts with the songs of the victor of the 10th Hunger Games herself; and then I swear to you, when I reach a respectable position, I will erase this damned "entertainment" from the face of Panem. You believe in me, right?” 

After those words, Snow pressed himself closer to Lucy Gray and the protruding, starched collar of his blue suit dug into her neck. She only smiled, briefly touching the Capitol “boy’s” cheek.  

“Of course I believe: I will always be on your side, no matter what happens," the girl noticed how his eyelids and head drooped slightly, either from fatigue, or from the realization that there was a lot more that needed to be done for his plan. And it definitely won't be easy... 

"Is he really scared?" The girl truly knew nothing about big politics and she had no idea what was in Coriolanus's head right now, but she knew what empathy was, so all she could do was ease his state of mind. “Well, that's enough — come here,” Lucy Gray wrapped her hand around his head and brought it closer to her. 

The young people huddled in a corner and were silent while their heated hearts beat in time with each other. And the heir to the "great" house of Snow was now hiding his head in the shoulders of a girl from the pathetic District 12 — this shouldn't have happened, this is wrong. But it was happening right now. 

It was this kind of Lucy Gray that Coriolanus was so infatuated with — a little eccentric, somewhat rebellious and free spirited, but always caring. The one who can support him in any difficult moment or cheer up with an uplifting song.

"Hm. A song right now does not sound like a bad idea."

“…There will still be songs about me, right? Only one does not feel enough," the guy muttered with a grin, still keeping his face in the sleeve of Lucy Gray's colorful dress. 

“You want too much — I'm tired," the girl chuckled smugly and returned to fiddling with his hair. 

Coriolanus Snow was not the type to ask twice or lie down at someone's feet. But he didn't want to spoil the pleasant atmosphere, so he didn't respond to his lover's caustic comment. 

"This is no problem, I can wait. You will have enough time to write something else dedicated to me."

She's not going anywhere now. This girl blew her only chance to escape from the Capitol as soon as she saved him, Coriolanus, from death in the arena. 

And then, she confirmed this when she chose him instead of escaping into the forest. Now he definitely won't let her go and will force the entire Capitol to recognize her as a worthy life partner for him.

After some mere seconds, the young man took a couple of deep breaths and Lucy Gray felt his hand moving. 

An uncomfortable expression crossed Snow's pale face when, due to his awkward position, he had great difficulty in getting a small object out of his pocket. Lucy Gray didn't even have time to blink before a ring, definitely not luxurious and clearly bought with the last saved money, ended up on her finger. Her eyes widened and her breath caught up, when Coriolanus began to say: 

"Marry me. Don't leave, stay — right now, I cannot live without you, no matter how hard I try,” he looked at her with his seemingly genuine, ice blue bright eyes, while his mouth slightly curled from his own bravery – no Capitol citizen ever proposed to a Districts’ bred person, so he was the first. Well, Lucy Gray definitely deserved such honor; after all, Snow always knew that she was the exception for any set up rule. 

"What? What in the world???”

...These were all the thoughts that were now spinning in Lucy Gray's head while she, baffled to the core, stared at her finger, which now acquired a surprising and shiny decoration. 

She looked Coriolanus straight in the eyes, hoping that he would now take that tiny headband back and blurt out that it was a mistake. But he was not moving at all – his breath seemed ice cold and the moment, by the feelings of it, lasted forever, as he continued to wait. 

“Coryo.”

“...Lucy Gray.”

"Lucy Gray will never refuse me. Since her arrival... No. Once she was chosen at the Reaping, she belonged to me. I chose her for myself and this girl has no right to break my heart just like this,” Coriolanus swallowed, touching one of her locks as if wanting to make sure that his words are true. Well, they were! 

“But I cannot be your wife. I don't have money, I wasn't born in the Capitol... And I'm not going to dance to their tune," finally going back to her senses and throwing away some of the initial shock, Lucy Gray began to argue. 

“Listen. You are now a victor, an actual celebrity!” The guy stood up slightly so that they were now parallel to each other and put his arms around her shoulders. 

Lucy Gray felt his always confident voice begin to tremble a tiny bit and his head dropped slightly, breaking eye contact — she really rarely saw “her” Coryo like this... Meanwhile, Snow was not giving up. 

“When I get promoted, I will be able to cancel the Hunger Games and provide access to the Capitol to the people of Twelve. I will later earn so much money that I can shower you with it — you wouldn’t starve for a day, like how you were in your former home. So agree on this, choose me.”

She truly didn't know what to answer. As a matter of fact, she gave her answer to Snow's proposal back in that hut, when she refused to run away from District 12 with him, and instead, at his encouragement, went on a 'victory tour'. But still... But what about the freedom her heart longed for? What about the Covey?

With Coryo, the road there was completely blocked for her. Although, if you think about it, it's Snow. And she, Lucy Gray, the keeper of all his hidden secrets, the only living key to his crimes, whom he left alive only because of personal feelings. Albeit, it felt scary to think what he will do to her if she refuses him right now. 

Also... Lucy Gray didn't want to admit it, but she really loved him. Even if this love was... Well, definitely not from the fairytales her poor mama used to read her when she was a kid. 

“Don't be silent, Lucy Gray. I'm waiting," she was pulled out of her trance by the voice of her boy, who leaned so close to her, that she could clearly differentiate single hairs on his head. 

Now she heard his heartbeat and agitated breathing, which he tried his best to hide. Well, here he is not alone – she feels as if a minute or less passes, her heart would literally jump out of her chest, leaving nothing but a giant hole. 

Breathe in. Then out. 

“You can do it. Hang in there, Lucy Gray."   

She is in no hurry to take off the ring. On the contrary, she examines it and understands that he chose this not only because of a lack of money — anyone who knew the rainbow Covey girl well, remembered exactly how much she despised expensive trinkets and especially large stones. And Coryo, apparently, was one of them — the ring was simple, just a band made out of copper, her favorite material.

To her little surprise, inside of the ring, there were three initials scrawled: "L.G.S." The girl's thin mouth curved into a smile. Now, look at this man! What a cheek! 

“Oh, so that’s how we do it? You didn't want to ask me?”

“It meant to be a surprise: do you think I don't know you?” Coryo fixed his messed up hair sarcastically. “You would definitely answer 'no'.”

Lucy Gray let out the most genuine and most innocent laugh, sounding like almost a tiny child. It was in moments of pure bliss like these, that she could allow herself to remember that she was only sixteen years old…

People like her lived for one day — it wouldn’t matter if they died or lived the next one. Lucy Gray was no exception to this rule, although she slowly started noticing changes in herself, all of which started from when she barely crawled out of the Capitol’s poisonous grasp and was unceremoniously returned to District 12. The girl looked at the person, who owned her heart and who gave his own heart to her on a cracked, wooden plate — none of them could’ve afforded a silver one. 

If a simple definition of ‘love’ as to all good against everything bad existed, their story was not it. But if a bond, as deep as the ocean, united by blood and promises made to each by two broken people, too young to go through any of this, who fought for their lives with Death itself and won – oh, now it would definitely be the story of Coriolanus Snow and Lucy Gray Baird.

Lucy Gray loved Coriolanus. Coriolanus was obsessed with Lucy Gray. 

She separated her slim finger, checking out the ring again and after two-three seconds, planted a short, but sweet kiss on the tiny copper band – Lucy Gray raised her head up and looked right into his light, non-blinking eyes again, smiling from ear to ear. He was Capitolite and that’s a fact — but also, a Capitolite who accepted her, who was kind to her and who saved her life at least 2 full times; although the Arena could have been separated to all of situations, where Lucy Gray’s life was in danger and “her” person always came to her aid, even if she couldn’t see him, she knew that he was there, caring for her like no other.

“You’re as pure as a driven snow…” she remembered her own song, which she wrote for him; about him, about their seemingly impossible relationship. 

The prospect of marrying Coriolanus has never crossed her mind: Lucy Gray believed that after returning to the Capitol, he will bury the memory of her deep in his head, so she could only imagine the surprise, when after leaving her maybe for his own good, the Capitol boy came back for her after two weeks, practically snatching out of Twelve and claws of crazy Mayor Lipp, putting on this train with words: “the Victory singing tour program was approved”. 

How can she even refuse him after he did so much already and plans to do more?

He, without even waiting for the answer, hugged her, pressing her small body to his, as his left, free habd lightly stroked her cheek.

“Stop talking nonsense. You knew that I would never refuse you,” the girl kissed the tip of his nose, then touched his lower lip with her single, now decorated with the ring, finger – the huge swollen bruise from the last half of the year definitely healed nicely.  

“I don't care. I had my doubts and the worries caught up with me, let me calm down — have a heart, my love." 

Love. Now, he could allow himself to be truly shameless without people around.

Coriolanus laughed, and then embraced Lucy Gray in a long kiss. His lips were soft and hot, causing her to gasp at first and then struggle to keep herself from tearing that suit on him right then and there. 

But it would be a shame to destroy such a prime piece of cloth: the suit was provided by Dr. Gall and probably cost more than Lucy Gray herself earned from her performances in her entire life. 

The young couple kissed, almost tearing into each other for so long, that they even began to choke a little, being inexperienced in such matters. Sometimes, Coryo kept turning away from the kiss and talking, while his forehead was red hot and it felt like he had a fever, which Lucy Gray found amusing — who could have guessed that out of them, the boy from the Capitol will be the most innocent one, at least in the romantic part? Haha. 

"I swear to you, now everything will change — I will get approval from the Capitol—" 

"Shhh," Lucy Gray interrupted Coryo, placing a finger on his plump lips. “Be careful not to burst from promises, my sweet.” 

Someday, she'll stop teasing him like that. Someday. 

This will also need to be worked on, but Coriolanus could not help but accept that he liked her brash, simple playing to some extent. He was not one to kneel and even proposed when they were both half-sitting and on the floor: but that doesn't mean he'll force Lucy Gray to kneel on her own before him. 

"This is exactly the kind of wife I need. She may not be a “proper lady”, but she is still the best in the whole wide world.”

“So your non-existent answer means 'yes', right?”

“Silence is a sign of consent. In the Covey, we do not need words to understand each other, but it looks like you still need to study and study," the girl laughed and laid her head on his chest. “It's okay, I'll help.” 

“Oh, well, yes... Ha-ha-ha,” Coryo could hardly keep himself from arguing with her — he didn't need anyone to lecture him or teach him anything. And yet he managed to keep calm, instead just hugging Lucy Gray back. 

A wonderful future was already emerging before his eyes — as Tigris and Grandm’am used to say: “Coriolanus Snow, future president of Panem,” and he planned to follow those barely clear instructions — all he knew, that he will be the one standing on the old fart Ravinstill’s place. And his First Lady will stand next to him while the entire Capitol applauds them — the lost greatness and honor of the Snow family will finally be restored. Coriolanus closed his eyes and licked his lips in such sweet anticipation — here it is, richness and glory, just a couple of steps away from him!

Of course, the way he would achieve this was not without bumps or even mountains on the road, at least Coriolanus had some sort of plan and a couple of tricks in his pocket. At least thanks to this little songbird of his, he will remain sane this entire time.

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They remained in this position for about an hour, so much so that their bodies began to ache and their bones began to crack slightly when Snow helped Lucy Gray get up — for some reason, she was chuckling on her bones making a “crack” sound and even purposely moved her arm up and down. 

“Oh dear, is that how people like Lucy Gray feel when sleeping their entire life on the ground or in straw? Then, she is surely so happy I am taking her out of this hell on Earth,” Coriolanus held Lucy Gray’s hand in his, fighting an internal battle to pick her up and just carry this entire way back, like a weightless feather. 

The staff of the whole train had already started their search for missing youngsters, but the couple just casted sidelong glances at them and headed to Coryo's room together, without detaching their hands. None of these "Capitol rushers" noticed the shining of the ring on Lucy Gray's finger and gladly: this should be a surprise for the Capitol city itself.

Once inside, when the couple examined their poor event clothes, as they awkwardly laughed at the amount of dust on both the suit and the dress. 

"Tigris will definitely roll me into cement and throw me into the river — she sewed it for me as a gift," Lucy Gray noticed how one of the flowers on her dress broke, looking at it with slight shame in her eyes as she attempted to fix it, but Snow stopped her hand mid-air. 

"Calm down, I'll explain everything to her," Coryo did not let go of her hand and led her towards his bed. 

She understood what he needed now. He looked at her with the eyes with which Lucy Gray herself used to look at a fried sausage dripping with blood when she had not eaten for two days. Lucy Gray played along with him and carefully removed the up layers of his suit, grinning this entire time. 

"Wow, he really added some muscle on that soft, slim body I remember him having — not bad, not bad; once in a lifetime, training of the Peacekeepers brought at least something good."  

Now, they are only wearing a shirt and the lower layers of a dress and all that was in her head was pure heat. They sat on the bed and Lucy Gray started to stroke his leg, carefully pulling down his pants. 

Indeed, they will celebrate the engagement in a special way... 

“Look at me. Don't even think about being greedy.” 

“Are you kidding me? I've always been greedy, Lucy," the guy grins, feeling his black ribbon around his neck being untied, pulling the neck forward, as it fell down on the bed.

Then it was the turn of the buttons on his shirt, which were pulled off before they were completely unbuttoned — she placed some kisses on his chest and then already somewhat red neck, which felt like boiling water to Snow; he felt a ashamed over her taking the initiative in her dexterous, tenacious hands, but he also felt something resembling pride for his girl — at least with her, he wouldn’t have to drag her along with him.

She was burning with passion, with both love and lust streaming out of her every move; so different from the Capitolite girls, who had cold mercury running in their veins.

And only then, Lucy Gray began to take off her white underdress, doing it slowly so that Coriolanus could look at her fully: she enjoyed it when people looked at her with the same admiration that was now on his face. 

“Have you done this with anyone before? "Lucy Gray roughly put her elbow on his bare chest while her mane of black hair hung down, partly covering her face; on her face, there was the same venomous, desire-filled grin as on Snow's. 

“No. I've kissed before, but it didn't go any further. And you?”

He sounded shy. Ashamed even — such a pretty face, yet still a virgin at his 18. Coriolanus always hated it, feeling his cheeks slowly painted in crimson; this could mean only one thing — today, Lucy Gray would become his first, his only.  

“I did. And it sort of sucked — dirt and straw everywhere, it was pretty cold. Not the best first impression, would you say?” 

She laughed, but Coriolanus clenched his teeth: damn it, she remembered her ex again... Well, at least she didn't like it with him, so that was good. Soon, he calmed down as soon as he heard the smell of lilies of the valley emanating from Lucy Gray; it was able to beat even his cologne, which contained roses with a particularly strong scent.

The girl's crookedly cut nails dug into the skin of his shoulders and he, savoring the pain of love and throwing his head back, allowed himself to relax — after all this was his reward, right now he deserved every inch of his girl, when waiting for way too long. 

Lust and love messed with his head — he both wanted to tear her apart, yet also wanted to be gentle and good for Lucy Gray. It needs to be good, she has to be safe in his arms, as he promised himself. He gently moved her lock behind her ear as the girl slightly bit on his lip, licking the drops of Snow’s blood, when the young man could only lay and watch.  

Exposed, defenseless, completely naked. Yet obedient and mesmerized by his precious girl — his hand then caressed her cheek, with Coryo barely managing to mutter out the last thing that came on his mind:

“Since you didn't like it last time with that good-for-nothing, alcohol-reeking guy, does that mean my bar is not high?” Lucy Gray only nodded, clearly not intending to get distracted from what she was doing to him. 

Now it was over. He was completely hers now. 

“Just relax, please — I’ll do good. Pretend that nothing happened before — pretend that you are my first.”

"And the only one," Coriolanus wanted to correct her. He liked the way she played with him and didn’t plan to stop her any time soon — it was pretty amusing, seeing as she thought that she had any power over him; it would be very funny to think about, in any different situation.

He pressed himself against her, still showing the remains of his power and desire in his eyes, pulling Lucy Gray with him. Well, some of her words were in fact true: it really was her very first time. Lucy Gray had no life before she came to the Capitol — no pathetic dancers without a home, or District 12 either, there was only him. 

Now, she understood that she only belonged to him. Yes, as Lucy Gray said, he was always too greedy, but Coriolanus had no remorse for this — he got everything he wanted, which means he's doing everything right.
Today, he allowed himself to dissolve in this girl, with an unearthly voice, while she ran her hot, brazier-like hands over his chest, continuing to tease him even now. Snow was breathing raggedly, and on his mind was not only Lucy Gray herself, which made him turn into a stone below. The Capitol hall floated before his eyes, where he spoke at the central podium, announcing the law on the Hunger Games. 

"Lucy Gray," he whispered, clutching her body. “Stay close and help me build a new world. Do you promise?”

“I promise. And then, you better promise me that I can sing,” Lucy Gray wrapped her arm around his head, smelling the roses in his hair — it made her nose itch a tiny bit, but it was nothing, compared to the possibility of hugging the warm body of her man under herself. He was here, alive, real and hungry to death for her affection. 

“Deal, my little songbird…”

She is smiling at him. So she really, truly loves him, devoted to him. 

Snow won again.

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Seven years passed and the Capitol seemed little changed, but that was not the case. In the main hall of the Presidential Palace of Panem, thunderous applause could be heard. 

The people surrounding the ornate stage, which, in some places, was decorated with gold, were dressed like the brightest splashes of paint on a purely white cloth — it was truly a show of fashion “disaster” to witness, although those people developed a liking to such vibrancy, which was even creepy in some places.  

Most of the crowd was wearing hot pink, turquoise and all sorts of rainbow outfits — many had multi-colored hair, and some had surgical knife marks on their faces, making them "beautiful" — and this is the same bunch of Capitolites, who called Lucy Gray a "clown" at the 10th Hunger Games’ Reaping ceremony. Although, even their ridiculous and over-the-top outfits could never outshine the two actual stars of this glorious night. 

On stage, with a break in applause, a young-looking woman in a bright blue luxurious dress with a long train and a high hairstyle was singing from her heart. Over the years, the bright star of the Capitol, Lucy Gray Snow, has changed a lot — now, she was a real primadonna, who sang to an audience of millions and whose angelic voice was the main gift for the inauguration of the new President of Panem.

Lucy Gray sang the notes of the song about the ‘Driven Snow’ and everyone in the hall understood who exactly it was dedicated to, smiling at the thought of a harmless and passionate love story of the tribute and the current President, that was famous (or rather infamous) throughout the Capitol. 

And at this time, sitting in the highest place of the stands, the hero of the occasion quietly sang along to the beautiful words of the song, savoring their incomparable taste. Coriolanus's feet were crushed by his little treasure with chubby cheeks, blue eyes and very long honey-colored curls for such a young age — Philomel Snow. 

Coryo loved to put his precious daughter on his lap or carry her in his arms — he did not want to let go of his second favorite even for a second. The little girl, who had recently celebrated her fifth birthday, held her tiny palm on the finger of her older brother Aster, who was only a year older than her. 

Unlike Philomel, the boy inherited his mother's darker skin tone and deep chocolate-colored hair, along with the woman’s smile, although in every other aspects, he was rightfully considered his father’s tiny copy. The boy looked at his parents and was incredibly proud of them. Coriolanus himself pressed the children closer to him, feeling how proud they were of him. What a blessing — he definitely deserves it.

Probably, to half of those Capitolites that are now wishing him a good ruling, this winning and this exact inauguration was a joke. 25 years old, barely two years out of University and having a background in working as an assistant Gamemaker and only organizing one of the Hunger Games — of course, he had to say thanks to obtaining such privileges to his dear mentor, Dr. Gaul.

Surprise, surprise, Ravinstill turned out to not be immortal, who could have thought of that? So, for the past three months, the Capitol had been out for blood, all for that one tribune — no one expected Coriolanus, a literal kid by the some pathetic old people’s standards, to not only dare to stand as a candidate and not become the laughing stock of Panem, but also keeping up his confidence the entire election process; promoting himself as a youthful, capable mind, someone who is going to be staying ruling Panem for a long time, offering lots of innovative projects on the table. 

And, by pure luck, the naive and having their minds already spoiled by luxury, the Capitol citizens believed in this promising person, who was always known as someone having all the first places in every possible competition and a truly brightest mind.

Oh, such a shame that almost any possible truly threatening opponent has mysteriously disappeared from the face of the Earth.

Finally after a long way he had to come, he is here, towering above everyone, along with his children — Coriolanus Snow knew he was destined for greatness and now had returned to his rightful place. 

"I promised you that the Snow always lands on top. You understand, right?" — he remembered saying this to his cousin, Tigris and he turned out to be right, as always. 

That’s right. His children will never starve. His children won't have to wear cast-offs and eat long-spoiled soups like he and Tigris did, playing rich, pretending that everything is fine. 

He was especially charmed with his children that night, they clearly wanted to make their dad happy on such a special occasion. Aster and Philomel looked great — the boy wore the same strict dark burgundy, almost black suit as his father, while Lucy Gray herself chose for Philomel a fluffy beige pink dress with a fur cape around it. 

Now, the Snow family looked like something out of a picture and Coriolanus was very pleased with the results of a unit between him and his precious Lucy Gray — their kids surely took all their best from him.

They will definitely have a great future in politics, he is sure of it and he will be there to guide them and give his kids all of the best opportunities imaginable — because starting from that day when he won the elections, Coriolanus knew that he would not give up his chair to anyone, ever; president of Panem until the last breath.

Lucy Gray's songs ended and a wave of stormy applause and screams of enthusiastic people covered the hall, flowers started flying up to the. Everyone in this room has adored Madame Snow since she was a tribute, singing all for their entertainment. 

Coriolanus clapped the loudest, but kept his face subdued, suppressing his grin of satisfaction and feelings of superiority — that one, long-forgotten feeling of wanting to scream: “See that? This is my girl!” that he had back in Twelve, witnessing his dearest’s performance in the dirty Hob, started making its way back into his head. At this time, Aster almost fell over the balcony, while Coriolanus maintained a firm grip on his shoulder. 

“Mommy! Bravo, mom!” Little Philomel squealed with delight, clinging to Coryo's formal suit and at the same time pulling her hands down towards the stage, on which her mother stood. 

Lucy Gray herself looked at the audience with an unblinking gaze, smiling with her usual theatrical smile, practiced over seven years, and spread her arms to the sides, clearly looking at one point on the ceiling while bowing as low as she could to her audience. 

For a while, she closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the first thing she saw was Coriolanus, Aster and Philomel, who were chanting her name, smiling as if they were on vacation, away from all the cameras... 

Taking a deep breath, Lucy Gray looked away from them. At this moment, her face expressed nothing, as if it had been made out of glass, on which first cracks started to appear.

Chapter Text

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The party was still going strong, when Lucy Gray and the kids, taking into account that it was late at night, moved to the east wing, while the president of Panem had to stick around until the very end.  

Along with Lucy Gray, a couple of wasted to death guests were also brought to their rooms — that was the exact reason why Coriolanus despised alcohol at parties, yet party etiquette convinced the new President to have it, although he had only touched the very tip of his drink: “Alcohol melts your brain,” he once said and Lucy Gray wholeheartedly agreed on this statement, although she felt as if her brain was about to melt without any drinks added into it.

As of right now, she was stuck in the nursery for almost 20 minutes trying to change the clothes of the children, who, thinking it was funny, crumpled and wriggled like snakes in her hands. Such erratic movements irritated her, her whole body ached and children were the last thing she wanted to do. But she would never allow herself to entrust their priceless lives into the wrong hands.

Aster, in his pajamas half unbuttoned, escaped from her tenacious hands and began to run wild around the room, imitating a helicopter. A couple of seconds later, before the woman had time to realize it, Philomel wanted to join her brother and began to wiggle her plump legs that resembled pink sausages.

"That's it, that's it... Well, that's enough, dear," Lucy Gray tries to hold onto her kids, mentally cursing her own fatigue and being afraid to say even a bit of offensive words out loud. 

“We're tired, mom! It's not fair that we had to stand for so long — our legs ached!” The children whined together — they were clearly outright offended that they had to spend so much time standing, almost without any playing or doing kids’ activities.

Well, Capitol was never too kid-friendly and Coryo always was disgusted by the very fact of it, promising himself to fix such a stupid, useless mentality. 

With one movement, the First Lady of Panem stopped her son spinning wildly around her and lowered Philomel down, continuing to hold her by the fluffy hem of her nightgown, trying not to unravel the beautiful ribbon that she had tied into a bow.  

“Stop it, both of you. This especially concerns you, young man — at such moments, Aster reminded her too much of herself, she simply could not be angry with this charming fidget. 

“Mom, mom, when will dad come? I want a fairy tale!” her favorite little snowflake began to tug at Lucy Gray's dress, laughing and softly demanding to see her favorite parent as quickly as possible.

Philomel's pretty logical question was followed only by silence. Lucy Gray lowered her head and didn't say a word, she just buttoned Aster's pajamas and tucked him and his sister in their beds, which were standing next to each other in the same room. 

It was Coryo's idea to put them in the same room so they could grow up together. According to him, this could allow them to become each other's support system and will not quarrel with each other like other pampered kids of the Capitol. 

"Our children are better than this — they are and will be above anyone from this place." 

Now, these children are not just Snow — this family is now under continuous watching of the radar, also known as “journalists”, that will be hounding for a moment when the new President slips and the government officials are also no better: from now on are going to monitor every step of the young President and his family, cherishing the hope of making a puppet out of him. 

Stroking her daughter's long, curly strands of hair, Lucy Gray could hardly contain her laughter — if the pompous buffoons from the Capitol really think so, then they are in for an unpleasant surprise. These people have no idea who will control them... 

“Ma, why did they call dad as "pre-prise- day"? Is he not a dad anymore?” curious Aster suddenly poked his head out from under the pillow and his mother just chuckled slightly.

“We will explain everything to you tomorrow. But if anything, your dad has a very, very important position — he is still dad, but only for us. To others, he is President Snow.”

Hearing this, Philomel squatted and clapped her hands, slightly chuckling and dealing with one of her locks covering her nose: 

"Hurray!" So this is a special secret, that is only for us?” Lucy Gray could only force herself to say "yes." 

And after singing the lullaby as usual, when she left the room, she was almost turned inside out by today. 

"I wouldn’t leave the bathroom right now, never," that was all she thought about, as she barely walked along the corridor, kicking off her heels and exposing her feet covered in bloody calluses.

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She dove headfirst into the bathroom and while she was having difficulty undoing her already wet braids and was spitting from a large amount of foam on her face, Lucy Gray kept to her small promise and really didn’t get out, staying in one place and looking at the cream coloured ceiling. The woman tried to sing something uplifting, but her throat was hurting from all the singing she had to do with the Capitolites that night, so just lowered her lips and dove back into the water. 

The tired singer spent about two hours there, so much so, that even the water in the bathroom had time to freeze. 

Her limbs were cold and barely moved when she sat in a chair, trying to warm herself with both a bathrobe and two towels on top of each other, putting the third around her hair: despite living here for some time, she still hadn’t got used to seeing a bathroom this large and with so little furniture, that only added to the feeling. The bathroom back in the Snow penthouse was lavish (although most of the things there had to be replaced or fixed, just so it would be possible to even use the damn thing), but this was on a whole new level. 

The door to the bathroom has opened and Lucy Gray didn’t even flinch — she could recognize his movements from thousands of others.

“Were you really here for so much time?” Coryo asked her, seeing how she was trembling from the cold, despite all of this warmth surrounding her. 

When he came closer and hugged her from the back, quietly drying her cold body, Lucy Gray didn't even look at her husband, although respectfully kissed his hand back when he kissed hers. 

“Why don't you buy some new perfume? It seems that now we can already afford more than one smell,” he buried his head in her neck, muttering something under his breath, trying to hide a smug smile, talking about his financial situation — ten years ago, perfume in his family was not even an unaffordable luxury, it was something coming from a dream. 

“I think I'll refuse.”

“...OK. I like it even better," Coryo ruffled her hair and inhaled her scent, looking at her exactly the same as he did seven years ago — he always caught himself thinking that his Lucy Gray can’t get even more beautiful and realising each and every time how incorrect he was. 

It's just a pity that he couldn't see the look on her face, which by no means expressed joy. Although Coriolanus's inauguration only took place today, in fact, the family had been living here for about a week and for Lucy Gray this was still not enough time to get used to the new place. 

She loved the Snow family's penthouse. Despite the fact that she herself had to repair almost everything there, from cracked floors to repainting the walls and buying a load of new furniture, she still loved this place — it was there, as she believed, that she could be closest to the sky, to the stars; also, several of her songs were inspired by the view from that place... 

It was a beloved house, which she and her Coryo had previously rebuilt themselves, with their own hands. The alien presidential palace, on the other hand, was a complete opposite — it looked more like a cage, with these huge jagged gates in a circle, reminiscent of fangs. Of course, she had no right to complain that she was 'dared' to be given a luxurious mansion, especially for a woman with her past, who originated from nowhere, but now had to deal with being branded as “the girl from District 12”. 

Anything is better than spending the night almost on the grass, in a worm-eaten house with huge cracks, or in a shaking Covey trailer back in childhood — but in Lucy Gray's heart there was only anxiety because of all this bleak white color that was everywhere and it started to hurt her eyes. She had no idea it was her being bored out of her mind from the lack of fine and colorful decorum, or was this just her getting unpleasant vibes from it.

Nevertheless, the color white began to be a tiny little headache for her, although Coriolanus tried convincing her again and again that it was nothing too bad: well, of course he would say such things! 

"Ha. Purely white, just like winters in the Capitol — 'Snow'. He must be oh so happy," thought Lucy Gray. At their home, she was able to fight for the right to have multi-colored walls with all kinds of different patterns, there were even intertwining birds drawn, despite her husband’s obvious dislike of any bird that was not a jabberjay… Well, or her. 

And nothing can be changed in the presidential palace — another reason not to love it. 

The Snow couple retired to the bedroom, where they changed into long robes and laid down on their large bed, covered with a soft, very heavy blanket. Coriolanus took Lucy Gray’s hand — it felt weird for them both to have the same body temperature, usually it was always his hands being the naturally frozen ones. He looked at her as she kept her head over his shoulder for some time, in complete silence. 

The lights remained on for now, so Coryo buried himself in his electronic planner for all of his 1000 planned meetings that were about to pour on him like cold rain, while Lucy Gray decided to finish reading one of the paper books that she had not gotten around to reading for a long time. 

They kept silent for quite a long time, until the girl finally mustered up to raise her voice: 

"Congratulations." 

“And that's all your imagination was enough for?” Coriolanus looked up from his work and bowed his head with a slight mockery, on which Lucy Gray slightly frowned. 

"I dedicated all my night songs to you. What else can you possibly need?” Her sharp answer was astonishing to him, but he was not going to give up. 

"Still too little," he pulled Lucy Gray towards him and kissed her still wet hair several times, clearly expecting something a bit more than just a couple of songs. 

“Sorry, I can't now," easily blocking his lips with her hand, she prepared to get up from the bed, but her husband stopped her. 

"Now what's wrong?" Coryo bit his lip, wondering how he should approach the very conversation that was inevitably going to take place. Lucy Gray had been acting strange all day, and this was unacceptable — today was his day, the most important day of his life. And now, instead of enjoying his rightfully earned triumph, he needs to face his wife's obviously forced smile, when her eyes look at him as if they are ready to start incinerating everything around, seriously? 

"In the name of all that is holy, Lucy, what's the matter?" To such a question, the brown haired woman immediately decided to play her long brewed trump card 

“Coryo. Today you spoke in front of cameras that were broadcast throughout Panem. Why, out of all the talks about your upcoming projects about advancing the Districts and getting back resources, wasn't there a word, or at least such a tiny mention, about the cancellation of the Hunger Games?”

An awkward pause hung in the air, when Coriolanus was ready to roll his eyes on this statement. 

“And here I thought I might get a peaceful evening with my little songbird, but it looks like she is adamant in sticking her pretty nose into my political business…”  

“Please, don't start with this. I'm working on this law, but as of now, canceling the Games means painting a huge target on our whole family. I cannot risk you and our newly restored position like that.”

Just amazing, the usual circus has begun. In truth, the Games began to slowly balloon up Coriolanus’ head, when Lucy Gray took it as a habit to repeat the same thing over and over again.

Those annoying, repetitive words that felt like a stuck record hit the newly appointed president on the head much harder than he thought it would: "When you can fully cancel them" "When will all this stop?" — as if changing something was so easy. Lucy Gray was no politician and could not understand even a thing as simple as this — Coriolanus didn’t mind, that doesn’t mean she was stupid; only a bit ignorant, which is understandable, taking into account where she was growing up. 

“The Capitol was not built in a day. It always takes time, Lucy. The fact that I am now the president does not mean anything — now I will need to run back and forth and negotiate with everyone, understand me. This is the only way I can really back up my claims and my words will actually influence something.” 

Here he is again, as always driving the same cart of promises — of course, Lucy Gray still had hope and faith in him. Although this faith began to slowly fade away over the six years of the new Hunger Games, half of which he was the main administrator and where a total of 126 people died. 

"I want you to listen to me and stop being so afraid that everything won't go according to plan — is that clear?” Snow wrapped his hand around her shoulder and moved her closer to him. Lucy Gray didn't throw his icy cold hand off, which is a good sign. He spoke quietly, a little angrily, but with a certain amount of regret in his voice.

He never liked it when people were disappointed in him, so he needed to hush up this situation right now, or he might even feel a little bad.

Coriolanus held his wife's hand in his iron grip and did not let go — Lucy Gray quieted down, understanding that she would be needlessly fighting a lost battle with him at this situation — after all, she had time to learn some some “manners”, as the Capitolite people called it. She didn't like to think that he had complete power over her, but today, Lucy Gray decided to give him a small discount in honor of him taking his dream position. 

Therefore, even though the woman wanted to yell at him at that very second, she understood that she was no longer sixteen: she is a lady and a mother of two children and needs to learn to keep the fire of her soul under control, even if she has the biggest desire to burn someone with it.

So instead of her fire, Lucy Gray decided to treat Coriolanus to some of her light sparks, jokingly hitting his leg with her own — oh no, the audacity of the president of Panem to be pushed around (at least for a couple of seconds). 

Snow himself, although was surprised by this very visible sign of rebelling, understood that he also needs to return the favor to Lucy Gray and keep quiet. But definitely, something was wrong — his woman wouldn't behave like that; this is the fault of today's celebration, where the Capitolites kept demanding and demanding her to sing as an encore, which is why the concert was delayed. 

Coriolanus did not mind this too much — all these songs were for him, so he was ready to listen to them until his last breath. They both lay buried under the blanket for a while, while Lucy Gray carefully counted in her head where she should start the conversation — it wasn’t supposed to be about the Games, and she was pretty fed up with all the talk about politics this week. After some more brainstorming, she raised her head, throwing her messy braid back. 

“Who did you write to with such attention?” as soon as he heard this, Coryo silently turned her towards him, firstly showing her the correspondence, and then calmly answered: 

"I made an agreement with the television studio. Tomorrow me and Philo will go there to give an interview — your baby girl will be seen by the whole world, so don't forget to turn on the TV!” the blonde gave out a smile when he said this, in addition, he was truly proud of his daughter. 

A smile also appeared on Lucy Gray's face as soon as she imagined her Philomel on stage. 

"You are a real bastard, Coriolanus Snow. You know that I won't bring up sensitive topics any further if you mention Philo,"   

Lucy Gray clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, as his sneaky “softening” tactic had actually worked on her: Aster and Philomel were always a soft topic for both of them, those tiny kids are their pride. 

“Okay, I’ll forgive you, for now — no need to argue for the first official day of your new position,” thought the woman and she was definitely right. 

Instead of continuing to bark at each other like a cat and a dog, the couple simply wished each other good night and went to bed, looking into each other's eyes – Coryo touched his love’s cheek a couple of times; he was delighted that now, instead of an unpleasant and cold ground of District 12 where they had their first moment of genuine sweetness, it was possible to touch her, laying in this warm bed. 

“Once, you told me that I cannot have the prize and the girl at the same time — well, look who has both now and where are you, Mr Highbottom? I’m sure I have to say thank you for such a gift from above,” a well-hidden sinister smirk crossed Coriolanus’ face when he closed his eyes, while strongly holding Lucy Gray’s tiny hand in his. 

Goddamnit, he deserves to feel the way he does now and even more — it was already unfair enough that he had to spent all of his childhood and youth with a hole in his pocket, he almost lost his life twice and then was sent to rot a pathetic place by a similarly pathetic person, who decided to ruin the life of a promising teenager just because he felt like it.

But all of this unfairness was over now, as his lifelong dream came true — Coriolanus did not even want to pinch himself, as he knew that all of this was real; Lucy Gray, his safe haven was now here, beside him, not planning to go anywhere, they are the parents of two most beautiful, precious children in the whole world and he really lived up to his name, actually “landed on top”. 

That night, he fell asleep so quickly, that it was as fast as a couple of seconds passed after he closed his eyes, but it was not the case for Lucy Gray. She quietly listened to his slightly intermittent, through breathing, tossing and turning and lying down on one side, then on the other, clearly disturbing his sleep. 

What kept her awake was not only the 100500 conferences that she had planned for tomorrow, but also the thoughts about possible new Games — what to do now?! If her Coryo doesn't hurry up, it could happen this year or even next year! 

"Seriously. For how long must this senseless slaughter continue?” Every damn day, when she was almost on her knees, begging for the cancellation of the Games, this conversation was 'postponed'. And in truth, she already got tired of waiting until all the officials of the Capitol realize that with these “Death Games”, all they are doing is just repeatedly cutting the branch they are sitting on. 

And in no time, this thin brunch will be finally cut down, loudly hitting the ground, then why doesn't anyone see this? 

“I really want to believe you, sweet pea. But please, hurry up, olay?” With lightness in her palm, she ran through the sleeping Coryo's hair and grinned when the corners of his lips twitched. Her hand in some places touched his cheek, although the outgrowing bristle sometimes tickled it, bringing some laughter into the woman.

"I’ll have to ask him to shave off that damn beard that he, for some reason, decided to start growing out. I don't want to kiss a brush." Lucy Gray was joking about this, even if her mood was far away from being uplifting — the laughter was always a cure to whatever unhappiness on her mind, no matter how temporary it was.

For now, this happy medicine was working: Lucy Gray turned on her back, with both of her hands on her chest – the title “First Lady of Panem" sounded like a fever dream and she had no idea whether or not to accept it with open arms. 

Well, too little too late, although the woman believed that Coriolanus was just joking, when he said that his plan was to claim the presidency right after Ravinstill’s death. Yeah, she knew all about his dreams, but thought all of this as being way too soon — their kids are still too young for all of this and she herself is no better. Turns out Coriolanus was not joking at all. 

“Okay, since I am here now, nothing can be changed — it’s all going to be okay…” were the last thoughts of Lucy Gray, before she closed her eyes tightly, humming herself to sleep. 

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The next day, the whole morning passed in the so-called 'slow bustle'. The presidential family spent about four hours in front of mirrors, which Lucy Gray considered the only positive side in this preparation — she held affection to mirrors and nothing can decorate a mirror better than her family’s faces.

After endless bickering, Coryo finally agreed to shave off his beard, which was just beginning to grow, and Lucy Gray, suppressing a self-righteous grin, helped him with clothes. For her, all the conferences are to be held at home, so she did not need to prepare much, unlike her husband and daughter. 

“Okay, since you were so adamant that it will make me better, what do you think?” Snow straightened the folds of his perfectly fit, dark blue suit, that was worn over a pitch black shirt. Despite the latest fashion trends in the Capitol, the new president preferred to stick to "old school" and "outdated" suits, as his cousin Tigris, one of the biggest fashionistas in the Capitol, called it. 

"It's not enough, let's fix it a little..." with these words, Lucy Gray started to jokingly ruffle his hair. Coriolanus smugly smiled, enjoying the sight of his and his wife’s reflection from the mirror.

"She is doing this on purpose — really wants to convince me that I am imperfect. Well, you can try your best," he could only chuckle under his breath. 

They were playing with each other for a good five minutes until they were interrupted by Philomel, who ran into their room, followed by Aster and pushed some of the presidential security aside. 

“Daddy, daddy! Look at this dress!” Today, her usually loose hair was pulled back at the back of her head, adorned with all sorts of hair clips and had a big white rose attached in the middle. The girl carefully picked up the hem of her long to the ground peach dress and twirled around several times, smiling with all her fragile teeth. The little miss really looked like an actual princess here; once Coriolanus learned that this was a title to reference the highest female born in the country — it was a long time ago, barely anyone could remember when it stopped being used, yet the meaning was there. And well, by her status as his only daughter, Philomel could be considered one. 

Aster, like he was part of a fan group and Philomel was a little star performing on a stage, started clapping, being quickly joined by Lucy Gray, who was wearing a suspiciously huge smile. Coryo immediately picked up his little girl in his arms and kissed her on both cheeks, as the puffed sleeves of her cream dress began to flutter like butterflies. 

"Oh, hello, my love," his eyes, which his daughter inherited fully, quickly lit up when he looked at his children. “Well, who is ready to conquer the world? Who will they show on TV?”

“Me! I want it!” Coryo handed his daughter to Lucy Gray and she caressed the little one just as her father had: young Miss Snow was simply glowing with happiness. 

When put on the floor, she immediately grabbed Aster's hands and began spinning around with him. While this was happening, the whole family could hardly contain the chuckle, and Coriolanus was especially pleased; the two kids reminded him too much of himself and Tigris when they could enjoy the life they had, before the Dark Days and the Districts took everything from them. 

Now, those kids got back for the Snow cousins — the happy times would never be taken from these two and his little Philo will shine like a diamond, being broadcasted across the whole Panem. 

Lucy Gray had to guide her daughter by herself while her son tagged along, wanting to say goodbye to his sister, all while they were waiting for Coriolanus to gather himself up: the father and daughter had to leave in just under ten minutes. Having seated her daughter on the bench, Lucy Gray again asked her to remember all the needed “stage rules”:

“Remind me that the most important thing is if you suddenly stumble and realize that you cannot speak?” 

“Smile! Laugh and stall for time until... Until something comes to mind…” Although she stammered a little, the little girl was almost not nervous, maintaining her charming smile even for such a young age. 

Aster approached his sister and whispered a few parting words to her, before Coriolanus came for Philomel. As always, his serious demeanor almost melted away as he laid eyes on his family — of course, he would prefer spending more time with Lucy Gray or the kids, but on the other hand he had to prove to the whole world that he, Snow, will not be relaxing any second while on duty and was determined to really live up to all the promises he made. Well… All except one, but no one should really know about that. 

He, long and passionately kissed his love goodbye and even made a “rocket” with his little boy, before boarding the little Capitol helicopter and flying away; the studio was on the other side of the city and the president could not afford to spend half of the day dealing with annoying people or traffic jams. 

“Good luck to you!” Aster sincerely waved "bon voyage" to his sister multiple times, like he was about to fall over on his back from the intensity from his waves. And Philomel, until the helicopter disappeared from sight, continued to wave her two arms towards her brother, still laughing like a bell. 

Crossing his arms and still not relaxing when being supposedly safe, Coriolanus looked at his daughter and a semblance of a smile appeared on his face. 

"Well, that's how it is. Today we will see how well you have progressed,” he had no doubt that Philomel on television would outshine absolutely everyone, including him — of course, it's not a pleasant thing to deal with, but what can't you do for the sake of your daughter's happiness?

Once the helicopter flew far away enough, Lucy Gray was finally able to breathe more freely, pressing Aster's dark, messy head to her hip. 

Indeed, without Coriolanus the house could breathe much more easily, even if it was painful and disgusting for her to admit it. She understood that she had a carriage and a small cart of questions and doubts for him — only her husband did not plan to answer them. 

"Well, dear, here we are again as a pair," Lucy Gray laughed and took her son in her arms. Despite already being six, Aster did enjoy spending more time with his mother: his “grandfather” Strabo Plinth, as he liked to call himself and be called by the kids, even talked about Aster being a “mommy’s boy”, which always earned him a scolding from his own wife. 

They still had about an hour before her endless crusade of meetings, so Lady Snow hurried to the living room to get her guitar — playing for her kids and especially Aster, who had a special place in his little heart for music. He loved the guitar and he loved the angelic voice of his dear mother, might’ve loved it on the same level as Coriolanus himself. 

"To hell with lessons. Let the child rest at least once in his life," with such thoughts, Lucy Gray sat Aster on her lap. 

“Ma, can you play 'A gift candy from the fair' please?” The boy raised his head and began to pluck the strings of the guitar himself. Lucy Gray laughed inside and looked closely at the way this kid was doing everything by himself, trying to run the show already — this child is definitely a “Snow”.

But she picked up the guitar anyway and after gently tuning the guitar neck, started slowly stroking the strings. 

The song was childish and simple, but for a small kid like her son, it was what the doctor had prescribed. Aster snuggled closer to his mother, laying his disheveled head and looking at her… With her very own, dark eyes, located on a face from which the early freckles had not yet faded. Although Aster spent a lot of his time dreaming of being a pale or honey blonde like his father and sister, he settled with his mother’s appearance and even started liking it: “Ma would’ve been lonely being the only one with dark hair, well I’m here for her company,” as his tan-skinned hand was gripping his mother’s tan arm.

"So what if Philo goes to show off for the cameras. I'm good here too," flashed through the boy's head while he hummed his mother's song, along with her. And if he had been more attentive, he would have noticed tears welling up in Lucy Gray's eyes, which, however, she quickly wiped away.

Chapter Text

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Five years ago  

Coriolanus had just returned home from another conference, drenched in sweat, trying to catch his breath after a long day of sitting in a nasty, stuffy office. Working as a government employee is no joke, and the Games were approaching — and the damn organizers, and especially Gr. Gaul already wanted to push the regulations of those ones on him, an assistant gamemaker, even when he has been twenty years old for only half a year; what kind of punishment was that?

Of course, extra money anywhere is always good, but still he was glad to finally leave that dull place, which was sucking the life out of him, as if it was an actual death trap, dedicated to boiling him alive.

As soon as he entered the corridor, the floor did not creak under his feet and he could barely restrain his gasps of surprise — he could not get used to the fact that finally, after many years, hands and money were finally found to at least partially repair it. 

“Coryo!” It was easy to hear the bright and booming voice of Lucy Gray, who, running out of the kitchen and throwing away the ladle, almost jumped up and threw herself on his neck. 

“Woah. Heavy…”  

He twirls her around in the air a few times, feeling his young wife's slight weight gain and a smile appears on his face as he lowered his head, looking at the changes in her usually tiny body. 

Ugh, how and why did she even get pregnant, only a little later after she hardly gave birth to Aster... It is not known whether they should have laughed or cried, but Snow definitely remembered how he was almost ready to jump out of the window out of shame before his wife — of course he never followed through with it, as Coriolanus was not the kind of person to be panicking over something for too long and especially threatening his own life because of it. 

What's done is done, and he was actually happy about the new addition to his family: stroking her already slightly rounded belly with a smile and, placing Lucy Gray on the sofa, he suddenly volunteered to finish cooking what was already strongly boiling in the pot. 

“Um... This... What is this?” Coriolanus poked the ladle into the bubbling brew, wincing heavily and looking at it with pure disgust on his face. 

"Ew, it's literally green! Oh dear, now it really feels like old times,” for a second, he thought that the smell of half-rotten cabbages had come back, almost causing him to throw up. This was the exact same kitchen where 8-year-old Tigris was struggling to cook anything, while young and hungry Coriolanus was whining and crying about his growling stomach and their grandma’am was sitting in the chair, being useless as always.

“I know nothing, I read in a culinary book and it’s said that this dish is good for the baby!” Lucy Gray crossed her arms and Snow found strength in himself to wave off all of the bad memories and slightly smirked, hiding the blush that was starting to form. No doubt, Lucy Gray was always able to shoo not only the disgusting smell of cabbages away, but the filth that Coriolanus associated with that so-called food. 

So, instead of pouring out the strange-looking broth, as he would have done at any other time, he honestly finished it and even brought it to Lucy Gray in a bowl. It even somewhat reminded him of their Hunger Games, when he was forced to carry food to her due to food being a nonexistent treat for the tributes. 

"I'm just warning you, I'm not going to eat this poison." 

"Then cook stuff yourself, why should I care?" his wife "returned" his grin and clicked her tongue, putting her plate aside to cool. Coryo sighs again — no matter what he tries, it can sometimes be too difficult with her. 

He took a place next to Lucy Gray and she quickly puts her shaggy head on his shoulder — Snow has always adored her messy licorice-colored curls and now, for about five minutes, he has been simply wrapping these curls around his finger, playing with them, which caused Lucy Gray to smile from ear to ear. 

“So, how has life been without me here? Not too bad?” Coryo touches her cheek, bringing out Lucy Gray’s slightly raised eyebrow. 

“Huh? In fact, everything is better than I expected: tho sometimes it's a shame that I'm mostly alone in this house, I'm holding on,” she tried to sound cheerful, well-hiding the fact she would have preferred to spend most of her free time by his side. You can’t add more stress to an already stressful home situation, right? Bless the luck that Aster turned out to be a quiet, sleepy kid — even now he was laying in his crib, snoring and not being bothered by anything. 

"Oh, what a pity. I thought you would miss me more," Coriolanus quickly shook his head, trying to get rid of these thoughts, but they still wouldn't go away. 

“But of course, I still want you to come as soon as possible. Even if I'm holding on, it doesn't mean that I'm not waiting for you at home," Lucy Gray stood up from the sofa and rubbed her nose against his chest — ticklish. 

Exhaling, Coriolanus pressed her body to his: he was pleased that his wife was able to adapt to her new life very quickly, since she already calls the Capitol her "home" — maybe not all is lost with her? He rubbed her belly again and the dark curls beauty giggled over the sensation. 

“Come on, come on, laugh — say something like: ‘You look like an overfed goose,’” Lucy Gray tried to laugh, but it was clear that she did not feel very well. Still, it was too short a break, her body didn't even have time to fully recover after the previous birth, and now she had to give birth to the next "grub”. 

Her stomach was hurting, she constantly felt nauseous and was endlessly hungry, just as she saw she was free from all of this after finally getting her little Aster out.

"It was too early to think that everything was over... This has never happened before, and here it is again,” she chuckled — Coryo could never understand why even when something was clearly going bad for her, Lucy Gray never ever complained about the stuff that annoyed her to the core. 

Although, the answer was right on the surface — after living a life of an outcast in District 12, though Coriolanus hated when she kept and kept talking about that period of her life, as he thought of this as reluctance to let go off that dirty, disgusting past and fully embrace her new chapter with him, she just learned to quickly ignore any inner complaints. 

Lucy Gray was better than this — she survived staying in dirty, dusty tunnels of the Hunger Games Arena dehydrated and hungry for a couple of days, she could deal with some stomach pain; especially when her dear person was next to her, smiling every time both at her and at the life she was carrying. 

The girl fell onto her husband's lap and for the first time in the months of pregnancy asked him the very question that could not get out of her head, almost whispering: 

"Coryo, who do you want more — a girl or a boy?” 

There was no immediate response.

But not because Coriolanus did not know the answer, but because he was deep in thoughts — any other parent would have given the regular and boring: “oh, I would be happy with anyone!”. Not him though, as he already fully made up his mind. 

"I want a daughter. Moreover, she would look exactly like me, with bright blue eyes and gorgeous platinum hair. If she really takes the Snow genes in full, this girl will grow up into a one of a kind beauty."   

It didn’t matter how happy he was with his son, as after a year, it was clear that he would completely take after his mother in both his hair and eyes — there would be nothing resembling a 'Snow' in Aster. 

Closing his eyes, he caught himself that the thoughts that could be considered unpleasant for others, but pleasant for him, began to creep inside his brain, as if trying to leak through wall cracks. 

"Girl’s love is selfless. They never betray, they don't deceive... But you can't say that about the guys, my former classmates and work colleagues alone are good examples of it." Of course, it was not just about some classmates, who for Coriolanus were no more important than swamp leeches — it was also about Sejanus. One dark-haired boy with similar dark eyes was more than enough already and then this damn baby Aster decided to add fuel to a fire. 

Thinking about his former ‘friend-no-friend’, Coriolanus threw back his head, muttering quietly to himself. No no and one more times no. This won't happen in his house. Therefore, swallowing saliva, he cleared his throat and finally mumbled indistinctly: 

"A girl," he said this with a crystal clear smile and kissed his wife's stomach: looks like his answer really satisfied Lucy Gray, who then more and kept her arm around his neck, leaning onto her own hand.

“That's good! My plan for the boys is fulfilled anyway, so I don't mind,” the couple then grinned from ear to ear. Coryo, laughing, threw her body fully onto the sofa and they began to tickle each other. While Lucy Gray laughed and cried because she was tickled, he could only look at his girl and admire every inch of hers. 

"And why did Lucy Gray call herself an overfed goose? She's the prettiest girl in Panem — even the rich Capitol girls are nothing compared to her..."  

Embracing each other, they were laying in each other's arms for a long time on a fairly shabby sofa, from the holes of which rusty springs were sticking out. Never mind, the salary will come in no time and they will change that one also. 

“Hey, you hear me? You are gorgeous — this will pass just like the previous one, you’ll soon be back on your feet in no time,” he took her in his arms, looking over her tiny body and lulling it, like she was a child.

“Oh, who is gorgeous here it’s you, my hun. By the way, I already unpacked the new delivery, even started to assemble something,” Lucy Gray, barely managing to get her hand out of Coriolanus’ arm that was fully covering it and pointed at the couple of wooden blocks that started to take a form in something square. 

“I better not have to rebuild it from scratch when it will be done.”  

Coriolanus saw his wife's face, which almost glowed, as soon as she looked at the Snow family's penthouse, which, after many years of devastation, just started to regain a proper look. 

Oh, with what pleasure they brought the first few new paper books into this house, while collecting about a thousand splinters when trying to assemble a couple of lockers and repair the closet, which they also began to fill!

When (to the shell shock of the whole Capitol) Coriolanus returned from District 12, waving his honorable discharge letter, the Plinth family, who thought of the Snow boy being their son’s best friend, took the matters into their own hands, buying off the penthouse that has been a family nest of the Snow family for decades, just to give it back to their rightful owners — the only small favor they asked in return was just… To be at their family dinners, on which “Ma” loved to supply an endless amount of food — this tradition didn’t go anywhere, as right now, the Snows had been ‘surviving’ on the meat pie and some fried potatoes. 

Well, although the house was bought and the debts were paid off, the monthly payments (no money did not mean no pride for the heir of Snow, so he paid all of this on his own) or the absence of furniture did not disappear anywhere — he, despite the obvious solution, was insistent that he’ll manage to pull the rest off all by himself. 

Honestly, Snow came to quickly regret it when he brought Lucy Gray in here — shame was still boiling in his veins when he was yet again greeted with cracked walls and almost naked rooms with barely any furniture in them. Well, luck was again on his side, as Lucy Gray stayed around, thinking it was “so cute and romantic” that a runt girl from District 12 was helping to rebuild such a legacy home, but Coriolanus was not returning the same thoughts about all of this. 

“It is not cute, it’s pathetic. That means I look pathetic, by not being able to provide for my wife and future children, who are the carriers of the great surname of Snow!”   

To get rid of those unhappy thoughts that came into his head uninvited during what was supposed to be a happy moment, he moved over Lucy Gray, completely covering parts of her body, wrapping arms around his songbird.  

“So, what do you think? I’m sure I worked hard enough to pay off my share,” the girl chuckled and Coryo just held her against his heart, trying to find the usual euphoric happiness that was inside all newfound fathers, he even put his hand on Lucy Gray’s stomach, looking for the baby’s pulse.

He couldn’t get his eyes off Lucy Gray — she was always and especially now, looking like a true sunshine, while her smile that was only meant for him stayed bright and was the purest. 

Coryo knew that he had to try even harder, so not only the eye-hurting old couch would be gone, but also cracks on the walls and coldness in rooms during early spring, autumn and winter. Since his birdie stuck around, it was his duty to make her think that it was all worth it — although, what can be worse than living in the woods with a bunch of odd savages? 

“My kids and my Lucy Gray are all counting on me — I must not disappoint, as I promised them a good life…”   

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The moment the President of Panem and his daughter walked onto the set, they were immediately mobbed like flies by a crowd eager to take a peek on their faces or have their picture taken. The flash of one of the cameras got Philo right in the eyes and the little miss squealed, closed her eyes, instinctively clinging to her father. 

“Papa, who is this? Why is there so much light?” Coriolanus began to wave his hand, giving a signal for all these annoying creatures to stop blinding their path. Fortunately, the security reacted very quickly and began to lead them away, sometimes using force against those who resisted. 

“These are photo reporters, get used to it, princess. They take pictures of us because we are very important people and our photos will bring them a lot of money. This is their profession.” 

"A very pathetic one by the way. Those who profit from people like us are not able to come up with anything themselves,” he sneered at the thought of his or worst, his daughter’s unflattering photos ending up anywhere – this would totally crush his image, way before he even started building it up.

He patted his daughter's hair, carefully, so as not to spoil the carefully styled hairstyle, and walked with her into the studio. They walked slowly and Philomel exactly copied her father's movements, which she had been taught for many weeks. Even if she was only five, she already had to live up to the big name of the Snow family. 

“As soon as we enter, smile at them from ear to ear. Show yourself,” Coriolanus instructed his daughter and straightened a huge hairpin in the shape of a white rose, stuck right in the middle of the bun of her light hair. 

“Yes, papa. Mom told me to smile and support you, so that’s what I’ll be doing!” 

“Good Philo, good,” the fairy young President rose his daughter up from the ground, tenderly looking at her, all while the little sunshine was giving him the brightest, purest smiles ever gracing this land.

When they entered the studio, the duo did not look colorful like the rest of the inhabitants of the Capitol, which Coriolanus was quite proud of — for the new President of Panem it was very important to simultaneously show status and at the same time modesty. 

“What an honor, Mr. President himself honored us all with his presence! Well, shall we show him how we like to welcome guests here?” Applause rang out from the filled hall. Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman, who was dressed like a peacock in his bright, shiny green suit and curled mustache, first bowed respectfully and then extended his hand to Coriolanus, whispering with a slight tone of sarcasm: “I voted for you, sir. Congratulations”. Holding back a slight chuckle, he returned the gesture. 

“Definitely… Voted. Just like you voted for the victory of my Lucy Gray,” his smile almost cracked, when Coriolanus managed to hold it together and not grimace out of disgust — smiling on camera, although he was not new to it, was still pretty hard to grasp for him. What a relief that his daughter is now here with him.

After doing this enough, holding her tightly by the shoulders, Philomel was brought forward, almost straight into the hands of the smiling presenters.

“Thank you all so much, but actually, who even am I? Here is the real main guest of our visit today!

"Okay, come on. Don't let me down, I beg of you..." 

All the girl's former indecision instantly disappeared somewhere. She picked up her dress and made a big bow in front of the cameras, struggling to hold the hem of her puffy, long skirt in her tiny clenched fists, all while smiling with her teeth on display in front of the cameras. 

“Hello Capitol! My name is Philomel Snow!” the little girl said the words that her mother taught her and, as best she could, gracefully waved to the audience. At that moment, her father looked around the hall and realized with a proud smile, that his child had already managed to win over some of the Capitolites’ hearts.

When they sat down, the well-spoken host with a fast tongue buried Coriolanus in questions, asking endlessly about what the new leader had prepared for his beloved country. Fortunately, the President was prepared and responded to each of Flickerman's barbs with the most correct answer, and Philomel, when necessary, inserted her own crumbs of innocence in his political blabber, making it even more entertaining to listen to. 

The father and daughter really made a fantastic duo, as Coryo touched on the subject of the reforms that he planned to carry out, like making the railway from the Capitol to the Districts much higher quality and strengthen out the Peacekeepers even more, making them much more efficient in guarding the safeness of the Capitol. 

Of course, he couldn’t mention everything, but he passed around a word or two about both making the living conditions in the Districts slightly better (must keep at least a bit of a promise that he made to Lucy Gray), meanwhile slowly pushing onto the reconstructing of the Capitol city itself — would you believe it, in seven years, the snail Ravinstill did not even bother to remove the traces of war, in what was supposed to be “the Gem of Panem”!

"It doesn’t matter, the city needs to be rebuilt. Even if the old horde of ministers will get stubborn and whiny, and would say no, as 'this wreckage is a reminder of our sacrifices and hardships during the war’, my children are not growing up in ruins," Coriolanus scratched his head as father and daughter, riding on the typical charm of the Snow family, tried to start pushing this idea to the audience. Coriolanus already had a plan for how to keep the people from the Districts in line, a plan for which there were no alternatives yet.

He could have promised Lucy Gray to stop the Games immediately... But he couldn't admit that he simply didn't want to do this, so during the interview, he tried his best to avoid this topic.

He spent most of his time talking about the political situation in the Capitol, about how moving forward was necessary for better progress — some working on fully rebuilding what The Dark Days took from them, with many once closed and never opened again minor but essential for use government buildings will soon open up the doors. Most important things to remember about such meeting is to almost never tell the audience all your plans — for the spoiled yet still a bit cautious Capitolites, a bravado with drops of truth but flawlessly delivered with a smiling face would be much more valuable than boring read out of the upcoming changes; this would have made Coriolanus' first TV interview a slog to sit through, something the people forgot when turned off the screen and Coriolanus Snow did not want to be forgotten. 

Having managed to interest the audience and turn boring tirades from an endless list of reports into a truly entertaining speech, he did not even think about slowing down. The President was restrained, calm, smiled when necessary and looked simply magnificent in front of the cameras — this is exactly how Coriolanus imagined the beginning of his triumph.

“So, this is the first time you have a different companion: I can’t see your little wife, or sorry — now the First Lady of Panem, bear with me, sir,” “Lucky” chuckled and managed to turn this into a joke, before Coriolanus could roll his eyes. 

“I’m a family man, Mr Flickerman — just here testing waters, before I can do the rest of the family introduction,” he kissed the top of his daughter’s head and she chuckled, like a tiny bell. 

“So, I guess we should expect the rest of the Snow family in our next interview?” 

“Of course,” the President tried his best to deliver a convincing smile and he did it exceptionally. “Although my kids are still young and fragile — be careful with the cameras!” 

Both the crowd in the studio, looking tired of the usual political dumping and the hall of lucky people witnessing this first hand broke out in laughter.

“This man is completely different from the plain, serious to death President Ravinstill,” those are the thoughts Coriolanus wanted to plant with roots in the minds of Capitol people. Since school years, Snow was always able to find a nice balance between seriousness and also an artificial, yet believable humorous side; and Lucy Gray, as much as the kids, really helped him in this, as most of those emotions were genuine. 

Everything was going smoothly, until suddenly even for him, “Lucky” Flickerman moved his ridiculous chair on wheels closer and thrust the microphone right under Philomel's nose. 

"So, young miss, how do you feel now that your dear father has become the main holder of power in the Capitol and all of Panem? Do you support his idea of restoring the city?” This question was so sudden that Coriolanus was taken aback and it took him a whole second to grasp the absurdity of it. 

"She's still a kid, damn it. That's it, it will be an embarrassment, I don’t want my daughter to be sad as she can become the laughing stock of the Capitol… She is going to have her little heart broken should she fail and my girl doesn’t deserve it,” he thought, looking at his daughter, who was strangely confident in such a stressful situation. 

“Just don't try to remain silent or run away here... Please, this is your chance," the President of Panem was prepared to intervene, but Philo just smiled at the camera and, surprising everyone, started speaking. 

Once the spotlight was on her, Philomel immediately owned both the camera and the entire scene, including Lucky Flickerman himself and the attention of this cunning fox was not easy to get, Snow knew that. A few years ago, Lucy Gray herself was in her daughter's shoes, trying to impress him and the entire Capitol — all for her own survival. 

When the little girl spoke, the audience got silent; she did not look her age at all — many would have given her ten years instead of five, and the light makeup on her face only confirmed this. The lipstick had worn off a little, but Philomel carefully covered her mouth with her hand and continued to answer questions wittily.

Coriolanus couldn't stop looking at her: Philo definitely had potential and was determined to unleash it to the fullest. 

"This is exactly what the face of ideal childish innocence should look like. What a natural talent this kid has!" He didn't know what to attribute this to — either the greatness and charisma of his lineage, or the legacy of Lucy Gray, who was a born actress. His lips curved into a smug smile — no, it was definitely inherited from him.

Sorry Lucy Gray, but it was clearly true, although both he and his wife had some special, natural charm in themselves. 

"I feel that it was not in vain that I asked for a daughter five years ago. Snow won again."   

Philomel did not stop smiling, causing adorable dimples to form on her cheeks. At the end of the interview, she made a tube with her lips and made a pop-like sound like with them. Afterwards, she herself softly took Flickerman's microphone so that she could be heard better and made a final speech: 

"I know that daddy will do everything right, he will help us. He's the most beautiful and the very best," the girl took her father's hand and they held each other in front of the cameras, making even the practically impenetrable presenter melt, like that ice cream in the cafe that Coryo fed the children the day before yesterday. The whole hall was delighted with this pretty show, and everyone in the Capitol who was now watching TV was also pleased with the spectacle: people really liked the way the new president presented himself. 

"Using a child. Well, Coriolanus — smart. Just don't tear her down to the bones, otherwise such innocent beauty will be wasted," meanwhile on the other end of the Capitol thought Dr. Volumnia Gall, who was watching the news while already practically bedridden due to her age catching, with a bloodthirsty grin on her face. 

Of everyone in Panem, she seemed to be the proudest of her protégé: and really, the strategy Coriolanus went for was impressive, by the way no one in politics ever attempted something similar. In the Capitol, it was not very common to express love for children through cameras or even use them for television, unless it turned out to be some unlucky scrawny tribute from one of the outsider Districts. Coriolanus as always, was quicker to notice this than others, which is exactly why he brought Philomel here. This is a great opportunity to demonstrate their bond and win over the rest of the Capitols; to let them know that he has more than just cold fire in his soul.

She really crafted him beautifully — this was her own live example on the cruelty of the Hunger Games, on how the desperate times are first shaping people and then lure them into power, guiding by their inner hunger. Coriolanus Snow was like that — more, more, more. At some point, even being the President, which was his lifelong dream would not be enough to satisfy his endless demands and quench his thirst for power. 

“I am already missing Lucy Gray though; there is no more perfect interview partner for me than her. And Aster should definitely come here too, the boy deserves some bits of spotlight — he’ll definitely earn it, I believe in him.” Coriolanus kept smiling at his daughter, always finding the way to sneak around her obvious inexperience in that field; he responded to her comments with endless supply of masterfully crafted phrases, laughed at her little childish jokes and as a whole made this five-year-old appear much more than she was already, and Philo was a lot.

Each aww that he heard from time to time in the crowd indicated that it was not him being delusional about her natural charm, but the audience clearly thought the same. 

Philomel's blue eyes sparkled when she saw her father's smile. Did this mean that she succeeded?

“Dad, dad, I'm great, right? Have I done everything correctly?” the girl whispered when they were ready to say goodbye to their entire audience or how the girl called them: "listeners". 

"Yes, Philo, you're a real, beautiful star — just like your mother," Coryo winked quietly at her and looked with pleasure at the people who applauded his daughter and himself. 

After the father and daughter held hands together, they got up from their chairs and Coriolanus again shook hands with "Lucky" Flickerman.

"I am extremely grateful for such a warm welcome. This is our second, albeit first, "full-fledged" meeting, isn't it? As far as I remember, we first encountered each other when I was trying to save my once-tribute-now-wife?” Coriolanus allowed himself to be a little sarcastic, but in order to avoid embarrassment in the public, things did not go any further. 

Flickerman just smoothed his mustache and laughed alongside him. 

"You are always the expected guests here," he bowed and kissed Miss Snow's hand. 

“Thank you very much, mister presenter, I want to talk to you again!” Philo blew “Lucky” and the audience a kiss — Lucy Gray also taught her to do this. 

At last, the President rose his daughter up in the air in front of all those cameras — while the little girl was waving her hands at people, Coriolanus looked proud of himself like no other day, while a smile was almost plastered on his face — after all, his possible and impossible dreams came true.

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Leaning back on the sofa, Lucy Gray turned off the TV as soon as her husband and daughter disappeared from there — her face was practically glowing from proudness, as those two quickly erased any traces of bad mood that formed before, thanks to her numerous talks with potential sponsors and other helpers. 

Now she had a tiny ten-minute break, after which it was necessary to contact the educational commission again. After the interview, Lucy Gray was overcome by doubts. Of course, her girl was a diamond in the rough, but was it too early? 

She tried to smile, imagining her future project, for which she was ready to rip everyone's throats out at the Academy — after five years, she finally had a proper idea in mind, planned out and ready to ship; of course, Coryo taught her a lot in case of business planning, but she still thought that something of her own wouldn’t hurt. But, looks like not everyone in the Capitol were sold to Lucy Gray’s idea — an unpleasant conversation with Livia Cardew, whom her daddy had seated in a leading position in the admissions committee that happened prior to the interview of her husband and daughter was the proof of it.

"- I believe that additional education for residents of the Districts is necessary. Creative grants and prizes are one of the steps towards such a future; this will allow truly talented children to study at the Academy for real merit." 

"- Madame Snow... I'm not sure you understand how the Capitol works. Of course, I didn't expect much from the girl from the twelfth, but to be sure that we will really accept all these poor ragamuffins into our lands, recognize them as equals? No, that's impossible!" — during that call, Livia sounded arrogant, almost making fun of her in a raised voice, as if Lucy Gray was still a tribute girl locked in a monkey cage, whom she could mock as much as she liked. Their dialogue resembled a vicious circle and therefore looked something like this. Lucy Gray rolled her eyes. 

"What a snake. So, you didn't succeed in wrapping Coryo around your little and tying him to yourself, so you'll be messing with me for the rest of your days? Envy in silence," Lucy Gray chuckled at such absurdity, as she remembered her husband laughing about “that one rich brat” being pissy that he had rejected her mother’s generous offer of marrying her. 

She was not at all offended by the way some of Snow's old acquaintances looked at her — she was no stranger to the distrust and dislike of others. And of course, she understood that if she settled in the Capitol, this did not mean at all that everyone around was obliged to accept her. But it was not in her character to be eternally resentful, she is Lucy Gray after all! Therefore, instead of being offended by Livia, she bent over the sketches of her ideas, on each of the sheets of which multi-colored butterflies were drawn. Her idea was to give creative grants to various independent artists from the Districts, of which she herself had previously been a part.

After all, when Coryo cancels the Hunger Games, it would be necessary to protect ourselves from possible riots, so she thought it was better this way. It’ll be better if the Capitol was filled with music, not with suffering, stench and blood — Lucy Gray was disgusted to even think about that. The Capitol could be proud of its military exploits as much as it wanted, but these exploits were given to many both by them and by the inhabitants of the rest of Panem. 

"Let this be my little reward. So, sing, children, sing..." her break was nearly ending when she heard the intermittent sounds of a guitar, rather the unpleasant to the ear strumming of individual strings, which immediately made the experienced guitarist Lucy Gray wince. 

She walked forward along a gray and white corridor covered with a long blue carpet and realized that the sound was coming from the children’s room.

"A-ha, and who was told to do their homework?" , grinning Lucy Gray looked through the door crack and saw Aster on the floor. Despite clear orders, the little devil not only ignored it, but he also successfully stole his mother's guitar and now, lounging on the floor in the room, was shamelessly playing out of tune. Well, looks like the Covey genes were strong in this one — he even tried to sing something, only ending up with a small: “la lal la”, coming out of his mouth.

And if Lucy Gray had previously had thoughts about teaching him to play, now she was sure of it. Except she didn't know how her dear husband would react to this. Aster was destined for the role of a brilliant student at the Academy, then at the University, and then a career as a senator. Coryo once even mentioned that he wanted to make his son the future president of Panem, establishing the Snow line as some sort of “Presidential dynasty” that is supposed to rule the continent for many, many generations. It's clear that there was simply no place for a guitar there.

But Lucy Gray is not very invested in this — if her little one shows an interest in music, then it becomes a sacred duty to teach him! And besides, isn't doing something you really like true freedom? Quickly, Lucy Gray opened her communicator and wrote to the Academy that she was busy, and she was rescheduling the meeting for about half an hour, loudly closing the device. Then, as if by chance, she slammed the door open, catching her son red-handed. 

“Aster!” the boy began to rush around, immediately lowering his head guiltily and placing the guitar in front of him. But his mother did not reprimand him, but sat down next to him, taking the guitar in her hands. 

“Sorry for taking your guitar, Ma. You just played so… And the lessons are so boring that I..." Lucy Gray put her finger on his mouth and kissed the top of his head. 

“Stop doing that. Music should be open to everyone, especially to those who really love and understand it!” Aster faltered, and when he raised his head and looked at his mother with his brown eyes, a dimple from a smile appeared on one of his cheeks. He took the guitar into his hands again, silently shaking it, hoping his mother would understand and teach him, as he was way too shy to ask himself — such a pure soul this child was. 

She carefully placed his hand on the strings and showed him how to pluck. Of course, he didn't succeed the first or even the fourth time, but Lucy Gray did not give up — she remembered that back where Covey were allowed to roam free across Panem, her own mama doing the teaching with her, at the age of even younger than her son was right now, and almost in a blink of an eye, Barb Azure took the role of her guitar teacher.  

“Come on! I can do it too!” Aster, like any six-year-old kid who doesn't do well on the first try, began to sniffle angrily, but didn't stop trying. They sat like that for about twenty minutes, and although nothing happened, they achieved some small results. 

Aster even tried out what it was like to hold a real guitar correctly and Lucy Gray was already happy, clapping her hands: support is support, doesn’t mean if it’s tiny. The boy was positively glowing with happiness, wiping sweat from his forehead and leaning against his mother's shoulder. 

Then, looking at his reddened fingers, he first frowned and then began to laugh. Lucy Gray laughed with him and began to play the instrument herself as a joke, cheering each other up, and even started to sing, with each slight nod of her head. 

On windswept whispers, it takes flight,  

In endless skies, a graceful sight.  

With feathers kissed by morning's light,  

A soaring song, in boundless flight.  

Her voice flowed while her son tried to sing along with her — he sounded quite good, even too good for his age. If he doesn't give up and actually practices, he would make an excellent singer.

His hands again reached for the guitar, but Lucy Gray shook her finger, as if forbidding and at the same time not looking judgmental — she even winked at the boy who had already taken offense.

“And who’s so grumpy here? Come on, cheer up!” As soon as she pulled his cheek, Aster’s reaction reminded her of Coriolanus when they first met, which only brought joy to my soul. 

“Maaa!” the kid squeaked. 

“That's it, that's it, I'm letting go!” oh, Lucy Gray was lying, because she immediately grabbed her son and began to squeeze and tickle him everywhere, laughing at his attempts to escape. 

“Ma, let go! I... Haha… Don’t do that, I will rule the Capitol, it’s unfair! Come on, ma!”

"What an angry little bundle I gave birth to. Well, it's so good that I once asked for a son," was the last thought of Lucy Gray before she fell on her back, and tears of laughter flowed from her eyes. 

Aster, meanwhile, still continued to fight back angrily, as if he himself was not having fun, because he was always drawn to his mother more than anyone else. He clutched his mother’s dress, messed up her hair and makeup, but was just happy that she sang a song — something, that he loved more than anything in life.

She couldn't remember the last time she laughed so much during this entire, busy week — she remembered her past in District 12, full of laughter and fun, the time with Coryo, Tigris and the kids inside the Snow penthouse, and held onto her son even tighter. 

Wait a second. Since when did a thing as simple as laughter, full of innocence and freedom, slowly begin to turn into a rare sight?

Chapter Text

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Stretching like a string line for better view, Aster and Philomel leaned against the door of their father's office. Having successfully escaped from several hours of studying the school curriculum and dolls becoming no fun to them, the bored to death children stretched their necks like goslings and greedily caught every word from his dialogue with the officials who had contacted him over the long-distance communication. 

Aster grabbed his sister with both hands and they both tried not to fall, while Coriolanus was behind the wall of the office and did not suspect that they were there, continuing his conversation. 

“This year the budget for the Hunger Games will be several times smaller, so it's worth reducing costs for the arena. I have already worked out a plan that includes less use of genetically modified animals and more use of "naturalistic" traps. This will benefit all of us and especially our wallets.” 

“Mr Snow, maybe it's not worth doing it? This show is steadily maintaining its ratings and the Capitol is just beginning to accept this form of entertainment…” Coriolanus, looking at the well-fed, pig-like faces in these blue screens, mentally rolled his eyes. 

These people already disgusted him enough, if only for the fact that in his youth they continued to make themselves fat while he himself was starving. It seems that these dressed-up idiots took the gesture that he did not cancel the Games as a sign to start embezzlement and theft of the budget. 

They could have done this under the previous President, but this was definitely not about him — Snow made it a habit to count and have his hands on everything, even the tiniest piece of metal, as since childhood, he knew what each of them was worth. 

"Moreover, this money will be used to restore the city, so that Aster and Philo proudly walk on the clean streets of the Capitol, and not on bloody massacres,” of course, he himself was not too opposed to "bloody massacres," even having previously led the organization of some of them. 

But now, three weeks after the announcement and start of the restoration project, and the massive cleaning of the entire Capitol, everything else has faded into the background. 

He bit his lip, interrupting the senseless babble of the old men in a calm but at the same time authoritative tone, thus showing that his decision is final. Several people were still trying to insert their "- but Mr. President!", but Coriolanus did not listen to them. Now he is the power, and they are nobodies. They remain in their seats only because he allowed them, and even then he is too kind to all this actual, unworthy trash, that only got their positions through birthright connections — complete opposite of what he had to suffer through, to get where he is now. 

“Of course, the Hunger Games will take place in three months, right on time. But I don't intend to cut food and expenses for transporting tributes, so only the Arena is left to cut.”

"But why should we spend our money on food for these scum?" another blue screen raised its voice in displeasure. 

“And here I thought we were long past this — do you want to get yourself low ratings for a show? So that they can all simply die out before the start of the Games?”

Snow sounded confident and even smug — and why, before him, had no one thought of such a simple thing as simply feeding the tributes? 

He (after about a couple of months convincing Dr Gaul that it was necessary) had long ago gotten rid of the old Capitol zoo, and instead, when he still had control over the Games directly, ordered the tributes to be sent to the stadium, where some special rooms for sleeping were equipped — the sponsorship money and a bit of magic with the taxes always covered the costs. 

Coriolanus knew the tributes and was familiar with the politics of the Games — in his opinion, there was no one better in this matter than him. "And now these pieces of horse meat, who never left the house in their lives, will try to lecture me in my own field? Unbelievable," the president involuntarily frowned, although he immediately fixed his face, hoping nobody saw this tiny crack in character. 

Exhaling, he continued speaking; Aster and Philomel though, did not understand his further words. The one thing that got through the kids’ brains, is that dad didn't want to starve someone when the other strange voices outside the door actually wanted it. 

“Dad is doing good, you got it?” Aster lightly shook his sister by the shoulders while she, fascinated by his speeches, looked through the crack. They didn't know what kind of "Games" their father was talking about and why to hold off on money for them. Aster turned his head and tried to find out more — he was too invested in these 'whatever games', so the curious boy put off asking his father about it.

“Ter, do you think you’ll be as good?” Philo innocently asked and Aster only laughed.

“Dad said I’m off to rule the Capitol and be as good as him. I’ll do it,” a smile formed on the child’s face, both from the pride he felt and for his natural curiosity. 

“When I'm in charge, I throw a big concert! Ma and I will sing on it too.” 

After some time, Philomel patted Aster on the shoulder yet again, when any meaningful or interesting information for kids did not appear in that adult conversation.

“If you will be ruling the Capitol, what about me?” she whispered, putting her finger in her mouth.

“Dad said you’re owning the TV. And the hearts of people,” Aster smiled at his sister, as if he actually understood what his father meant when he said that and Philo, remembering her past interview, was quite happy with this answer, instead sucking on her thumb, not making a sound. 

Further conversations about the rubble in the city and the economy were uninteresting and incomprehensible to the children, but they simply could not bring themselves to move away from his office. Their legs went numb, and Aster's arms, wrapped around his sister, managed to turn into jelly before Coryo, after some more time, finally opened the door and almost knocked his own children out of the way. 

“Oh!” Snow hurried to pick them up and quickly checked that their faces were not damaged. “What are you two doing here, didn’t I ask you to play in your room after practice?” He picked them up like two weightless feathers and, without waiting for an answer, carried the children into the living room, sitting them on a slippery, gray leather sofa, giving the kids a stern look. 

“What about our agreement? Who promised not to eavesdrop on my meetings?” Aster, catching a slight glare at himself, immediately seemed to become smaller in stature, but still puffed out his cheeks from resentment.

“We didn't do it on purpose. They wanted to see how you work in the priseden chair…” the boy was slightly stuttering, so even Coriolanus had to back off only a bit. 

“No Aster, the word is "presidential." Repeat,” Aster obeyed, but his tongue kept getting tied up. Though Philo did it with some hardships, while also silently apologizing, as her plump lower lip trembled.

Coriolanus, satisfied with the apology, no longer pestered the children, but instead sat down next to them, as a pause rose in the air.

He felt awkward. Previously, at such moments, Lucy Gray was always near and had something to tell them or come up with any potentially fun activity for the kids. And today, as luck would have it, she left to deal with that project of hers, which has been Coriolanus’ source of annoyance number two and promised to be only late in the evening, and Snow himself was expected to be at home the whole day, so naturally the children wanted to see him and not any nanny; maybe that’s why the Snow family, in the difference to other high class or powerful Capitol families did not have one. 

"What should I do with you?" he thought about his children, stroking Philo's hair and keeping his hand on Aster's shoulder.

“Dad, dad — what are these “games” of yours? Do you also play with cars?” Aster's sudden question sounded like a bolt in the sky.

Coriolanus hesitated and did not know what to answer, his heart began to pound, like a mechanical clock: tick, tick, tick. 

He never told the children what exactly he was doing — they were still small and for them there was no difference between the inhabitants of the Capitol and the filth of the Districts. From their point of view, the father will be a murderer... 

"Okay. They bear the Snow name and will definitely understand me — after all, I have no choice, circumstances forced me to leave the Games. So they won't blame me too much." Coriolanus took a deep breath and turned to face Aster. 

“Not just regular games, but the Hunger Games.” 

“Why are they hungry? Are you forced not to eat there when you are playing? Is starving a part of the play?” Seeing this innocent question being asked in a thin voice, he saw Philomel putting her finger in her mouth — a stupid habit that she should have gotten rid of long ago. 

Coriolanus forcibly turned their heads in his direction and put his hands on their fragile shoulders. 

“Now no one and nothing can “force” me to do something — your father is the main force of power in this country right now and you two should remember that. And these games… It’s just a fun show for the Capitol,” the children became interested and bowed their heads almost simultaneously.

Suddenly, it clicked with him that this was an ideal opportunity to tell the children about some part of his work, while simultaneously trying to hush up the most "gaudy" details.

"Those Games are played by people who hurt us very much many years ago — the residents of the Districts," Coriolanus paused, seeing the perplexed faces of the children. 

He did not stop, even seeing that they did not understand, but on the contrary, he dragged a soft stool closer and continued his story. 

Like the Grandm’am once told this to an 8 y/o him, he passed this infamous story of the Dark Days, a rebellion launched by the collective force of the Districts' power to his children, not forgetting to emphasize the actual division between the Capitol and the Districts. Lucy Gray was always against such talk, but her persistence only led to the fact that the children did not really know anything about the war. 

"They don’t know how those pieces of trash brought the Capitol to its knees before. How Tigris and I were forced to dig through the garbage dumps, trying not to die of hunger, while Sejanus Plinth and others like him enjoyed life in their luxurious apartments, all while without being Capitol born!”   

This was the main and actual reason why Coriolanus did not cancel the Games. As far as he was concerned, the Districts were obliged to pay for all those years of humiliation that both he and the Capitol itself were forced to endure in silence. Even though he had to lie when he proposed to Lucy Gray, but it was for a justifiable cause — had he answered otherwise, she would definitely leave him, just like that... 

He then continued and continued his story. 

Sometimes he even forgot who he was saying this to, so he, without a second thought, jumped into the deep sea waters of the events at the warn sometimes not moving away from some of the gory details, which made little Philomel feel uneasy, as she crawled to the back of the sofa, sulking and groaning, not daring to cover her ears.

“Dad!” Aster's indignant voice interrupted him every now and then and Coriolanus immediately stopped. While the brother stroked his sister on the shoulder and hugged her, whispering soothing words to be brave and listen further. 

“Ter. I don't like it," the girl pouted offendedly, as she was tired of hearing about carnage in the streets and mass starvation, despite the fact that she had no idea what the first and second were. 

“Hey, please, just be patient. Dad wants to tell us a story, that's all,” Coriolanus pretended not to notice the children's whispering, but seeing how upset Philomel was, he instantly kissed her on top of her little head. This was enough to make the girl quiet. 

Listening to war and post-war stories, Aster himself looked at his father with sparkling eyes — at least someone in this house understands what is going on in the world. Coriolanus was satisfied with at least this, although he would much prefer if both of his dear kids understood what the Capitol and he himself had to go through, all to achieve its current greatness.

“Such a relief that Lucy Gray is not here… I just hope they wouldn’t run their little mouths around too much — well, they are smart kids, they wouldn’t do that to set me up,” the President was relieved and even tried to cool a bit with his talks about the war.

The boy trampled his cheeks with his fists and listened further, crossing his legs on the sofa. 

“So, the people who hurt us are now playing these games? And didn't even get a belt spanking?” Coriolanus just smiled from the corner of his mouth and patted his son behind the ear. 

"What a naive child. If I want to make something worthwhile out of it, I need to cut such expressions at the root," a wrinkle appeared above Snow's eyebrows. He touched the cheeks of each of his children and began to say the words like a small prayer: 

"...Aster, Philo." These creatures from the Districts... These are not people. They are just savages, the Capitol’s labor force. Do you remember well?” He already remembered the words of his father when he was still very little, so much so that he did not have to repeat them — the firm and hateful words said by the rough voice of a Capitol general were imprinted in his memory forever, even if the face of Crassus Snow himself had started to blur away from his head. 

There was an urgency in Coriolanus's voice, a sincere desire to make them believe him and think about those people the same way he did. Children are trusting, children are pure. That is why the adults of the Capitol love to sit like this, sitting their kids on their laps or sitting next to them on a warm evening, and begin to pour such information into their tiny brains, without being at all ashamed of it. He could feel a slightly scared smile and that his eyes were widening, but he only kept his hand on his children’s shoulders with a tighter grip, swallowing and hoping that they would get it. 

“Savages? And what about ma?” A grimace of incomprehension appeared on Aster's face for the first time, and his voice did not inspire confidence. “You love ma, don't you? And she said that she was from District 12..”. Philomel also shook her head, as if trying to show that she was on her brother's side. 

She also loved her mother very much: her melodious voice, that was like a mountain stream, and her long, unruly curls, which are pleasant to tug, and they will bounce back like springs. 

Hearing this, Coriolanus felt like throwing up. It’s all the fault of Lucy Gray, pushing her shameful roots into their innocent children, right after he did so much to cover all of this up, all for her — to give his beloved a chance to turn the page, leaving her old rotten past behind. 

“No Aster. Your mother is Covey and a citizen of the Capitol — always has been.”

"But ma said—" 

"...No," Coriolanus abruptly cut off the approaching question and quickly cleared his throat, trying to keep the disgusted expression as far away from his face as he could. 

“I don't understand why they look at me like that. Lucy Gray has always been and will be from the Capitol — her old life is erased, no. She wasn't there at all. Therefore, what exactly am I wrong about?"  

The children nodded without any shadow of doubt, accepting these words. Their mother is not a savage — she is also a person like them, and this is what actually matters...

Philomel, after Coriolanus had caught his breath and stopped ranting endlessly about the war, after waiting a little, moved closer to her father, one of her blonde curls even ended up on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around the children and holds them both close, kissing their unruly licorice and honey-colored hair. 

"Everything will be okay. These Hunger Games would never endanger you like they do to those pieces of filth, who actually deserve it. You and your future children will live in luxury, never suffering a day in life, I’ll make sure of it. Everything will really be fine," he thought, sometimes whispering individual words out loud. 

“Dad. Everything is fine?” Aster took his hand and the child's thin fingers intertwined with the fingers of a rough and strong hand. A hand that was up to the elbows in blood, and son, who was full of childlike innocence, didn't even know about it. 

The President of Panem sighed resignedly, looking at these two little ones — at his son, who almost without blinking looked at him with his bright eyes; under the light of the early sunset, they seemed almost orange and he looked at his daughter, who was drawing patterns on his hand with her tiny finger, while smiling one of her most sparkling smiles. Her touch was somewhat similar to Lucy Gray's, and her smile was definitely his. 

Both were so tiny. So fragile.

“If anything, none of you will play those. In the future, you both are going to control the very Hunger Games — this is my gift to you — you are Snow after all,” he smiled rather callously and continued, trying to cement what he just told both of his children. 

“And what does Snow do?” — Coriolanus looked Aster and Philomel in the eyes and they immediately, synchronously and loudly blurted out: 

“Snow lands on top!” Aster's eyes sparkled as he wrapped his very short arms around Philomel, completely rumpling her business looking beige uniform dress; he wore a close replica of it, just fully dark brown, fitting his eyes. Both now looked at their father as a real hero, even if the words he said were mostly unknown to them because of their age and little Philo got specifically quiet over trying to connect those given doses of information. 

“Sa-ve-ges? Weird… Ain’t they like us? Like mama told us before,” she thought, sucking up on her finger again, but didn’t want to ask her father again — her dad at this time looked a bit “off” to her, with his eyes being so freakishly round that it was kind of scary — of course, it was her dad and he can’t be scary, but it was the thought that came with it.

Both smiled to make their father happy and Coriolanus was pleased — this is great, here are his little clever kids.

No doubt, he enjoyed seeing that both of his children picked up on his genius genes — by what he had now, Philomel and Aster were flawless. Aster not having his genes in terms of appearance was upsetting of course, but other than this small issue, there was nothing else to ever pick apart about them — they were the real worthy carriers of the Snow family name. 

Coriolanus remembered the talk he had with Festus, who was morbidly disguised by his choice of a life partner — the only reason he was still alive right now was only because Snow was in need of a Head Gamemaker, so be it and let him spend his whole career inside a cage with freakish creatures. 

“Festus told me that my kids will turn out like the mutts Dr. Gaul used to produce in her precious lab. Well, joke on him — I am the living proof that people from the outside can breed with the people of Capitol and not turn out with filth genes.”  

Holding Philomel’s cheek in his hand, he was smiling — actually, Lucy Gray, Aster and Philo were the only little things brightening his days. If only Tigris had visited more than she currently does…

He sat both children on his knees, hugging them deeply, feeling the stress in his head disappearing for a mere second — if a price for this sign of respect of the Capitol culture, he had to tell his little ones the truth, he would gladly do it over and over again.

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"I’m sorry. I am really sorry..." the bothersome thoughts crawled in and dominated Snow’s brain, as in the evening, when dusk was seen outside the window, he could finally allow himself to take off his sweat-soaked shirt and climb under the blanket.

He dreaded that his legs were stretched out, eyes saw the world through a blur because of the blue screens in his face this entire day, but what made his teeth grit the most, was the fact that Lucy Gray was still not returning. What a bother this project of hers is — he told her that it would be useless and asked her to stop numerous times. Who listened to him? Nobody.

"Probably she is not even at the Academy right now — I’m sure she is singing in an underground club again, or where is she anyway? ...Should have planted a bug on her. Darn it," holding back the slight urge to vomit, he stopped himself several times, grabbing his own hand when he wanted to run to the phone, call the Academy and have Lucy Gray brought to him immediately, as of right now. 

Fortunately, he still managed to preserve the remnants of his own dignity and in addition, he didn't want to listen to a song the next day about a father who filled his children's heads with the war that happened almost 17 years ago, and then ran away to his office for the whole day like the coward he is. But Lucy Gray could do that. 

And that's why he loves her. He tried to smile, imagining his wife sitting with her old guitar in her hands and humming a perky song, as always, sprinkled with a thick layer of mockery powder. Although this smile quickly faded as soon as he remembered the discouraged faces of his children. "It was necessary to open their eyes. Let them know why we are here and what we are fighting for."  

The Hunger Games. A bone of contention not only between him and his wife, but also a weapon against the Districts. He always had big plans for them — it was thanks to the Games that he was able to break into the “society of proper men”. Thank you, Dr. Volumnia Gall for such a wonderful gift full of poison. He looked at the ceiling with both hands under his head and signed deeply.

You can love anyone as much as your own life, but when they talk about the same thing in your ear over and over, it is very difficult not to start hitting the wall. 

This is exactly what happened to him with Lucy Gray — he doted on her, but every day he felt his head bursting with irritation as soon as she brought this subject into their conversations.

"Cancel the Games? When is this legacy and my project? I created it — me and no one else. The others just used my ideas, picked up the seconds of what I came up with,” the Hunger Games were his political base. It was the only method that could, theoretically, help him stay in power for so long, and no creative competition for the poor, the idea of which Lucy Gray is so keen on pushing through, could have replaced it. 

Not knowing what to do with himself, he grabbed the computer and started working on what was actually planned for tomorrow. Oh, how much did he wish that somewhere in a faraway District, someone started a stink again — those small occurrences often happened when a new President was sitting on a chair, actually believing that the most powerful people of all Panem will be scared of their savage behavior; ha, a recorded image from Ninth on the day after his inauguration, where some middle aged man was yelling that a President of Panem should be someone of their kind and not a “kid”, still stuck in his head. Right after this stunt, he, his family and all of his other relatives, up until third cousins were executed of course.

Well, right now, an accident similar to that one wouldn’t be that bad — after all, Coriolanus would’ve enjoyed enforcing order of execution, then parading that in front of the District crows and blowing off some steam, but by the looks of it he was stuck in this loop of annoyance and tiredness.

Angrily hammering at the keys, every word and every little lie he had told his children, all to make the Capitol even more courageous, every now and then closing his eyes in anger. 

Click Click Click.  

After a few seconds, he could no longer bear the sound. Another second later, instead of the simple sound of computer keys, he could hear the quiet tramp of two tiny pairs of feet, running on the destroyed stone square, trying not to trip over the stones. His head immediately started to hurt, but right now it was way too late to make the images go away so quickly.

He saw himself and Tigris, little ones, that had nothing in their stomachs except half-rotten beans for two weeks straight. And then, when even this ran out, they were forced to emerge from their precious refuge all to food-hunt like two desperate wolves that separated from the pack.

"Hurry up, here's the box! Search it, Coryo!" Coriolanus thought that he heard his then nine year old cousin's thin voice as clearly as if it were yesterday. His entire childhood was the real Hunger Games. Although no, worse. 

The tributes were released into a special arena for three days at best, where they all were promptly killed off. And now, before the games they were even fed and prepared for slaughter — some brutes and rats had better living conditions than Coriolanus could ever dream of for 10 years. He literally could not comprehend that the Capitol was inhabited by those who even sympathized with them! While he, Grandma’am and Tigris... Starved in silence. No support, no chance for a future, no nothing. 

The smell of cabbages every day that long stayed in the kitchen walls, him tugging himself in bed with his mother’s rose-smelling compact powder in hand so hard, that the rose on it’s cover had imprinted on his hand all while he tried to suppress his growling stomach and fit into the clothes that he had outgrown two years prior — all of this immediately came back.

"Error! Error!" the computer squealed when Coriolanus, carried away by his thoughts, completely forgot what he was working with. 

“Damn it. Shut up already!” angrily slamming the squeaking device, he pushed it aside, forcing himself to breathe deeper. Then, his eyes fell on his right hand, the exact one that once had a red imprint of the pose on its palm, that he immediately grabbed; this is how bad it was shaking and he didn’t like it.

...He thought he forgot everything. That it was all over once he achieved his dream of becoming the president. But, holding his ice cold hand to his heart, he felt like a small, hungry ragamuffin, whose father was killed inside the District, was banging on the doors to his seemingly stone cold soul. 

"Goddamn... Okay, Coriolanus Snow, pull yourself together. Don't disgrace yourself and don't disgrace your family." This phrase helped him survive in his time. Words cannot express how grateful he was to his brain that he managed not to go crazy over so many painfully long years…

"We have to hold on. These squalor will get their due, and you just need to raise your children correctly. You're on the right path," he echoed to himself, continuing to keep his hand on his sweaty and icy chest. He also credited the thoughts of children for keeping his mind clear.

No matter what happens, they must survive. His family has to live — his kids are obliged to grow up worthy of Snow like him and beautiful like his Lucy Gray. Coryo loved them; as soon as he saw them, he felt the desire to protect both Philomel and Aster from any potential danger that his poisonous world can bring them. 

"It will all be okay — there is no point in fighting fate, when you are a winner. Indeed, I’m going to send Aster for an internship as a Hunger Games mentor when he grows up. And Philomel will be hosting the Hunger Games along with the peacock Flickerman, there just three months to prepare for the next one — a chance for a full-fledged debut already for this year." Coriolanus' worried face began to relax and a gentle grin appeared on it, as if that was his method of keeping the cracked walls and cold to death nights in an unheated penthouse away. 

He won't let these animals get away with it and he won't let anyone take power from his family. His family had the right to this power. Tigris, Lucy Gray, Philo and Aster. Yes, even Grandma’am, may she rest in peace. 

They all deserve the best, which means he is obliged to put them at the top of this world right now...

He breathed three more times — really something has to be done about the random attacks on his mind. After each of them, he felt like pulling his hair out all over again — a thing he did in his teens for an entire year, until Tigris got him out of this phase.

“What did the poor computer do to you?” Suddenly he heard a mocking voice from above, which pulled him out of his thoughts like a whip. Coriolanus raised his head and saw Lucy Gray, who sneaked into their room, completely unnoticed by him and was now standing over him with a smile made from sunshine light on her pretty face. 

"Lucy Gray," the terrified, heavily breathing man sat on the bed, wrapped his arms around her, who had not yet even taken off her street clothes — a dark brown dress, over which an almost cream coat is worn, dragged the startled woman to the bed along with himself. Out of surprise she even laughed and gave a long kiss, which they had not had for too long by their standards.

“Oh, oh — you didn’t grab a meal for yourself while I wasn't home? I was only gone for a day, you can't eat me,” she continued to slightly giggle, finally getting rid off the coat despite the uncomfortable position.

He held her tightly to himself, rubbing his cheek into her hair, which has not yet been completely unbraided, resulting in a tousled braid thrown to the side. Lucy Gray, surprised by such a sudden attack of tenderness from her husband, when they were both like two pieces of ice for two weeks, smiles and puts her hand on his left cheek, sits in bed with him, seeing that he is half undressed. 

"Pl… Sorry," he kissed her just above her chest, continuing to lightly stroke her back, feeling his rougher fingers against her soft skin, managing to let the air inside his lungs with the each second she was gracing him with her presence.

Oh Lucy Gray always knew when to come, as if she had an inner signal going off inside her, when he was feeling distraught. Keeping his hand on her cheek and slightly smiling only reinforced the memory of how warm she is.

As he put his right palm over her licorice-like hair, the yacking cabbages disappeared like a bubble from his mind — only the smell of sugar, her scent, had stayed.

Her long, slim finger touched his lower lip and Lucy Gray looked him in the eyes with the same pure expression that she gave him while being locked in that cage; when he was her only good thing that lit up her miserable existence.

“Have you been drinking…” Lucy Gray didn’t mean to ask such a thing as it was clear as day what had happened, when he buried his head in her neck. “Aw, Coryo, so it happened again. Are you feeling good?”

When she truly cared about him, Snow felt as if her voice was dipped in a sugar-powdered butter. That is how tender Lucy Gray could be, but only it was about him or either of the kids.

While laying still in her warm embrace, a recollection of her telling that their love was: “written in the stars” returned to his brain, relaxing it even more — when he saw her in Twelve and she said that, at that time it sounded kind of stupid. He even believed for a moment that she was trying to sweet-talk him and was not genuine.

Oh, how wrong he was! 

“You are mine and I am yours. There is no different outcome for us,” the dripping worry started to leave his body, as one pure, corny phrase that was said 6 years ago without a second thought in some dumpster of Panem, started to return the resemblance of a smile on his face.

He nodded and quickly pretended that everything was fine, even tried to cover his inner bother with an even wider smile, although his arms only wrapped over Lucy Gray tighter. It was always good, having around a person that made the cabbages leave him alone: that way his mind which was plagued with paranoia for over 10 years, could finally allow itself some peace.

Tigris was kind, she was good to him his entire childhood. But she was not Lucy Gray — only this tiny creature with a voice of a bird could set him straight, at least for half of the minute. 

“So, better?”

”I was always okay my dear,” he brushed the worries aside, causing Lucy Gray to sarcastically chuckle, although Coriolanus did not see it as spiteful — she liked to play with him and he enjoyed doing this in return. “Okay, come here.”

He made himself more comfortable and then sat Lucy Gray on his knees, while she laughed, clearly trying to cheer her gloomy boy up. As he wrapped his arms around her from behind, it was noticeable by how well her body fit in his arms, as if God created her to fit him and only him.

Well, if that idiot had indeed existed, Coriolanus would have been the first one to come to him with a list of questions — why was the Capitol punished again, what for? And why did the Snow family suffer the most out of the whole city?

Bless his luck at least Lucy Gray was here with him now, so this day was not entirely horrible; there she is, laying on his bare chest, slowly stroking his hair like he was a child — once, his birdie told him that it was supposed to be a calming up method, but it was the fact that she, for once, shut up about the Hunger Games that soothed his mind.

Every day, it was all the same — either “cancel Hunger Games” or little rants on how she missed the Covey.

Coriolanus had already decided that he would not be canceling crap — the people that made him feel like he was losing himself day to day, throwing him again and again into the same state he barely existed through life for the entirety of 10 years had to be properly punished.

Now it was even easier, as Aster and Philo were definitely on his side now, sorry again, Lucy Gray, but he had to do something about it, before the kids get any idea that the Districts are equal to them.

He already learned too much from the Covey… Oh, how well did he wish that Lucy Gray would just leave the memories of those scraps of once “great” nomadic culture behind. They had already left them in District 12, what was the problem?

Chapter Text

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What is she doing here.  

What the hell is going on.   

Why is everyone having fun.  

When it is time for them to go home.   

Those exact thoughts filled Lucy Gray's head when from the noise and ringing in her ears, she was ready to throw herself straight from the balcony on which they were now standing, even before the sounds of the approach of the first carriage were heard. 

She truly didn't wish for this day to come, not that it would happen so soon after her husband's appointment as president. But three months flew by as quickly as seagulls over a windswept sea, and now she and her whole family are standing on the highest layer of tribunes of the Capitol Square, with the laughter and contemptuous chuckles of the multi-colored crowd below as a background decoration. These people were eager to see a true spectacle. 

The so-called "Tribute Parade" was invented by Coriolanus himself, to make the Hunger Games even more appealing to the mass audience, as they loved decorum with masses of glitter — it was not only about the Capitol, but also about Panem as a whole, because equipment, especially televisions, began to be imported there. Along with the introduction of the parade, the family behavior at the Hunger Games had also changed.

Previously, the Snows simply locked their house and Lucy Gray stayed home with the children, not turning on the disgustingly hissing TV for several days, trying to distract herself and the kids by anything, but trying not to pay attention to the Games. 

"And such a parade is an opportunity to show children the greatness of the Capitol and not tell them about the other side. Can you please understand me, okay?" This is exactly what Lucy Gray was told by Coryo yesterday, when he dropped the bomb on her that he will be taking their little ones to this disgusting ceremony. But Lucy Gray was still uneasy, even when he was by her side.

These children, these teenagers, were still stuck in the stinking train, smelling of hay and dried out blood — only it had been doused with gold paint, and on the sides, the "generous" people of the Capitol had planted flowers, with a sickeningly cloying and never natural smell.
They were put on those rides to meet their death — the beautiful carriages strewn with petals were their coffins on wheels, and the pretty suits made by Tigris were their funeral clothes. 

Ah, the Capitol has truly evolved! Now, in addition to locking people in the zoo for the amusement of their relatives and friends, they will now also cackle at the top of their lungs at these innocent children, as if mockingly throwing flowers at their feet, the stems of which will be crushed with a crunch in exactly a second. 

Now, it was time. Before even a bit of a carriage could show up, Lucy Gray gulped, looking at how Coryo, towering over the whole Capitol, picked up a white handkerchief and looking it at with a blank face, held it up for a couple of seconds, before letting it go, without a sound from his part.

“I can now officially open the first tribute parade in the Capitol!” His voice, despite being made louder because of a microphone near his lips, sounded unnervingly calm and dry. Lucy Gray, who barely ditched the fate of singing the opening of this vomit-inducing “event” yet again thought jumping off the balcony right now wouldn’t be such a bad idea. 

“They're coming!” An echoing yell went around the stage and the Capitolites, as they were hypnotized, mass turned their heads towards the right side.

Coriolanus’s face immediately turned serious, as he hid his sneering in disgust and put both of his heavy hands on Aster’s and Philomel’s shoulders.

“Children, look there. And be calm, they wouldn’t get to you — I will make sure of it.”

He pointed at the lower right, as the first carriage clattered along a clean, recently washed and fixed road paved with light gray bricks, inside of which sat two people in orange-themed suits, being buried in small, cheap trinkets — tributes from District 1. The fact that the tributes of the first four Districts looked to be around 16-17 years old did not at all calm Lucy Gray's soul, although Coriolanus whispered to her: 

"See, it's not so bad, these are not some babies," he really thought it somehow meant to cheer her up?! The lady looked at him with wide eyes, trying to overcome the terrible dryness in her mouth; she was already feeling nauseous, and her complexion had lost so much color that Coriolanus demanded to immediately bring her some water with ice and lemon. 

"It would be better if I brought some emetic, seriously — at least there would be a reason to get away from here," Lucy Gray thought, choking on an ice cube and trying to hold back a grimace while she was forced to watch her children throw white fragrant rose petals at the feet of the moving carriages. Philomel kept leaning over the railing, sweetly waving her hands to everyone passing by and smiling sincerely. Coryo did not smile along with his daughter, but still held her by the hem of her long, sleeveless dress with a big bow in front.

Already five pairs of tributes passed through, with people clapping, flowers crunching and colorful confetti covering the tributes, Lucy Gray continued feeling nauseous, even almost slamming the glass of water on the side with her shaking hand. Luckily, she managed to avoid making a scene, so Coriolanus didn’t even notice that, all while her head was literally cracking up as she tugged on her dress’ sleeve.

Truth to be told, Lucy Gray only cemented the idea that she didn't really like the color white, and today they all: Coryo, her, and the kids were dressed up head to toes in this color, looking matching and flawless, as he would have preferred. She liked the colors of nature and liked the decorations of the house. Even the walls of the penthouse, painted by her hand, were to her liking.

But now, looking at the dangerously moving carriages that were decorated with ribbons, on which the Capitol ladies with gold, pink or acid green hair were pointing with their fingers with nails 10 centimeters long, while looking so gaudy, that the simple paintings done by her five-year-old daughter who had gotten her hands on colored pens were considered masterpieces, she wanted to close eyes and never again see anything other than white. 

After some bit of time, when another pair of tributes just showed up for the round of applause, she felt Coriolanus carefully hugging her from the back and whispering in her ear: 

"Are you feeling better?" Should I bring something?” When he didn’t get the answer that he wanted, he then tilted her head onto his shoulder, the light, unmodified scent of roses still in the air and she instinctively took him by his shoulder, breathing in. Yes, Coryo usually smells like that. 

The couple were standing like this for quite a bit, neither of them not seeming to enjoy what was happening at all, but clinging onto each other as they did for all their life together. Then, Lucy Gray moved her head away from his shoulder a bit and almost weightlessly pointed her finger down — a carriage with tributes from District 7 just appeared.

“Coryo. There are youngsters over there.” 

And it was true. This year there was no luck at all — the oldest of the children, the boy from the Seventh, could not possibly be older than 14. His partner looked like a girl, whose name was included in the Harvest list only this year. Furthermore — right up to the end of the parade, there was a line of carriages on which... Seated were frightened children with strained smiles; very small children who, like animals in a circus, were forced to wave for the amusement of the public. Look, one girl from the Ninth was exactly the same as little Wovey, whose smiling face seemed to have long since left Lucy Gray’s mind. 

If Lady Snow had the opportunity to look at the boy from District 10, she would be sure that Aster would look about the same when he will grow to 14. She swallowed her saliva at the word “grow up” — because she understood that all these well-dressed children would not survive the first day of the Hunger Games. And only the oldest or the fittest will win... But even these “built ones” were children who just wanted to go home — she could still remember the time that she was scared to death of Coral. Now, she only felt soul-crushing pity for her. 

How do they say it again? There are no winners in the Hunger Games. Only survivors.

“Look at the ones from Ten. The boy looks like Aster, don’t you think?” Lucy Gray turned to her husband again, but at these words, Coriolanus only grimaced. 

"Don't compare this thing to our son," he said calmly and patted the children on the head. Lucy Gray could only take a deep breath, almost ignoring what he had just said — if she didn’t, she was sure she wouldn’t make it to the end of the parade. 

Continuing to ignore these words, she clenched her hand into a fist, her nails dug into her well-groomed skin — after a while she even felt a thin trickle of blood, but she did not move or tremble. The physical pain drowned out the internal pain and circles reminiscent of soap bubbles swam before her eyes, which fortunately blurred the terrible picture below for her while she watched the children out of the corner of her eye. Philomel waved kindly to the children in the carriages, throwing homemade wreaths made from branches in their direction. 

“Greetings, greetings! Welcome!” Her heart sank as soon as she heard her baby girl so excitedly waving to them and seeing her daughter trying to fold her hands into hearts, addressing the tributes. Watching from the cameras, it was visible how an emaciated, dark-haired girl with cheekbones on her face in a black dress, sitting on a carriage in District 12, looked at Philomel with the doomed gaze of her glassy, gray eyes. 

"They hate her. Every single child in these coffins on wheels hates us,” Lucy Gray held tightly to her daughter until Philomel’s hand was moved away by a visibly annoyed Aster: 

"What are you doing, who are you waving to?" the boy quietly shushed his sister. “These are enemies! 

Lucy Gray froze for a bit, then, trying to to space out, gave a click on her son’s forehead.

“Aster, shhh!”

“Hey, ma, that hurts,” the boy pouted again and Lucy Gray could barely keep her composure to not get her children out of the space immediately. 

“Aster, be quiet — don't hiss at your sister,” although they tried to keep their voices down, Coriolanus still turned his head towards his family, looking clearly annoyed by the whole ordeal. Philomel lowered her head in silence, while Aster continued to sulk, even if Lucy Gray apologetically kissed her son’s head. 

“Hey, hey!” Coriolanus shushed them both, nodding towards the other people, who were luckily for the whole Snow family, too distracted with the show going on to pay any attention. “What did I say to you all — a President’s family should not argue at all in public and Aster, especially to you: get yourself together.”

Lucy Gray only took Coryo by his arm, but didn’t say anything as she normally would or even smile at him — her mind was way too preoccupied with the words she just heard and she hoped that it was her mind playing tricks on her, when Aster muttered under his breath:

"What? I don't want Philo to wave at her enemies — they didn't deserve this," the boy brought his sister closer to him and his repeated words threw a whole bucket of cold water on Lucy Gray. 

...Enemies?

"What kind of nonsense is this? I remember, I asked them to turn off the TV in the evening when I'm not at home! Or where did he pick this up?"  

Just amazing — now she will also have to deal with her son, which was definitely not part of her plans. Now, she just prayed that this terrible spectacle would end as soon as possible and they could finally return home. Unfortunately for Lucy Gray, alcohol did not have a very good effect on her, so it was impossible to come and drink until she passed out in order to forget this disgusting parade.

The rest of the time of the parade was spent in a fog — Lucy Gray could not even properly look anywhere without wishing to fall off the balcony and only from the sounds of retreating clattering hooves, and the exclamations of the dressed-up crowd below, did she realize that it was all over. 

"So, these were our wonderful tributes — Capitol, please love and favor! Let the 18th season of the Hunger Games begin!” The perky voice of "Lucky" Flickerman was heard from the speakers, followed by wild laughter. She immediately felt the weighty hand of Coryo on her shoulder, who hastened to lead her and the children out of the observation tribune — about five Peacekeepers were walking behind them with machine guns at the ready, but Lucy Gray was not afraid of them at all. 

The ones she was actually afraid of were the “neighbors” — all kinds of families or just people with statuses similar to the Snow family, who poured out in a motley crowd into the hall, where drinks and snacks were already ready to celebrate the first Hunger Games since the new president took over. 

“Can you walk?” Coryo was holding Lucy Gray by her body — most certainly a romantic sight in the eyes of anyone passing by, so she did not want to raise any dust. No doubt, the banquet hall was gorgeous — Lucy Gray had finally gotten used to the fact that each and every day, those halls of the Capitol contained more food than any District could have imagined to have. 

As the family walked down, Coriolanus watched closely each and every look someone gave his family. He was pretty lucky in the way that Lucy Gray, who was clinging over his arm, looked even better than the word “presentable” could have described her — but he knew that everyone was watching. Every single soul in here was looking for a single reason to judge them, to shake the column the Snow family was standing on, so they had to be focused.

“Songs? Oh, I am sure you would have to wait for the next season.”

“Very honored to have you here.”

“Happy Hunger Games.” 

This was the most small talk Coriolanus was willing to do — after all, you can’t be way too friendly with common people, even if they are of your own land. The newly appointed Head Gamemaker Festus Creed was standing surrounded by his work colleagues, although the strong stuff he kept showing down his throat was considered unacceptable for the President. He didn’t want to go there beyond little greetings, but as Lucy Gray noticed Tigris, the the head tribute stylist, in the crowd of “Hunger Games responsible” people, she knew she had to go there; at least one sane soul in the soup of this craziness.

“Ma, can we go play?” Aster raised his head and whispered, as the family directed themselves to the group.

“No,” Coriolanus whispered back. “Look at those kids running around — do you want to follow that example?” 

Lucy Gray turned her head towards him, slightly pursed her lips, hinting that he should stop before he accidentally called anyone “bratty”, so the president did not press on the issue further. Definitely, the ones that were actually running wild were the offsprings of elite doctors, lawyers or anyone who had big enough of a pocket to get an invite to this party — the actual Capitol nobility, like the Phipps family, were not so active, preferring to stay in the corner, while still towering over the plebs. They needed to act similarly, or even better — all eyes were on them now.

Festus, with smiling Persephone Price’s hand around his own, looked as lost but still confident as Coriolanus remembered him from his Academy year, but it definitely didn’t apply to everyone; as soon as she noticed the Snow family, Tigris looked like she wanted to immediately disappear from the face of Panem.

“Tigris, your hands are made from pure gold,” Lucy Gray smiled at her sister-in-law, who in return only gave a fast look at Coriolanus, before turning to her.

“Coriolanus. Lucy Gray,” she said, acknowledging the kids with two headpats each — this woman’s fashion was still questionable by Coriolanus’ standards, as she, three years ago, started always wearing business suits in all of possible color combinations, like the one she was wearing right now, with the bright yellow blazer, blue shirt and pink trousers: “This way she’ll never find a husband if she keeps looking like a man,” he always thought, giving up on the idea of setting his sister up with anyone. 

Festus quickly butted into the conversation, trying to wear a smile, appropriate for his family’s status: after all he knew, what kind of burden was just dumped on him as a Head Gamemaker and Coriolanus was satisfied that his working bees understood their place. 

“Tigris really outshined any of the future changes I planned for the Arena with her magnificent clothes, President Snow,” Festus slightly chuckled, as Tigris just shrugged her shoulders with a light smile.

“Congratulations on your engagement, Festus. Hope Persephone can make you as happy as your new duties are,” while complimenting them, Coriolanus actually scoffed — not only Festus really pursued the problematic, “human-brew loving” Persephone Price of all people, but that was the Capitol in a nutshell. Creed was pushing his thirties and really, only an engagement? Since when marrying young became a no-norm? 

While Lucy Gray herself felt even more uncomfortable than she already was — she came here for Tigris, but had zero desire to be close to those people. She knew who this pretty couple was — mentors to Coral and Mizzen, the exact ones that were a step behind in sending her to her mama and papa multiple times. 

With quick words: “Coryo, let me borrow Tigris for a moment,” both Snow women left the little gang of all schoolmates, but Lucy Gray didn’t move before she checked up on her kids — as always, Aster was a huge chatterbox with the Crane family and their youngest, only a year older than her son himself. Cyril Crane seemed like a decent enough kid; not too bratty or whiny, just a little bit loud — nevertheless, Coryo felt that this boy was suitable enough to be his son’s friend. 

Weirdly, Philo was quickly introduced to anyone who held a meaningful position in the Hunger Games, especially to Festus himself, which really started to trouble the First Lady of Panem; all of this ordeal made Lucy Gray move away from Coriolanus as fast as she could, before she’ll start asking “improper” questions, which she had many of — the biggest one of them being: “what are you even doing with our baby girl?”

She and Tigris settled in the corner, standing still and looking at an already quite tipsy, colorful crowd — them with their sour faces and non-gaudy, elegant clothing really stood out.

“Drink this,” Tigris sneaked a tiny glass to her sister-in-law and Lucy Gray’s face contorted when the drink actually touched her tongue.

“Ick. What kind of a cocktail is that?” she still had trouble with remembering all of the Capitol signature drinks, so maybe that is one of those?

“That’s salt with tequila. I figured by your face that you would like it.”

Lucy Gray could barely swallow the disgusting substance without vomiting right on the floor and immediately grabbed her head. Tigris herself was silent, but she looked like she was drilling a hole in Coriolanus’ face. 

“…What a joke of an event that is.”

As Tigris said it, Lucy Gray could not reply — part of her wanted to jump in and defend Coryo, but the logical side of her brain was telling her that no, she herself found this whole ordeal disgusting, even for the levels of Capitol. Tigris was definitely unhappy, not that different from how Lucy Gray was feeling, despite being actually born a Snow.

“I’m… So sorry,” this was one of the reasons Tigris was so fond of her cousin’s choice in a partner — Lucy Gray was always empathetic, even when the situation seemed as harmless as it could have been. Oh, Grandma’am would be definitely rolling in her grave, when even her granddaughter was so loving towards the “District-born”.

Sipping on her champagne, Tigris kept all of her bad thoughts away — otherwise, a tear or two will be spilled at this party full of laughter. But she couldn’t allow herself not to be sad — after all, it seemed like those two women were the only ones remembering what the “celebration” was about.

“Why are you apologizing to me? I should be happy — me and my team did a fantastic job, all of those outfits are a hit with the public, meaning that the tributes have already made good impression,” she was talking in hoarse voice, not even trying to mimic the now popular “Capitol accent” — some rising pop star on national TV started talking in a high pitch, snobbishly-sounding tone, barely opening her mouth; that manner of talking became a new trend in the city. Of course, everyone in the Snow family scoffed at this, but Tigris always made an impression that she was one of those people setting and following the trends. 

“Well, you don’t look happy to me — at least not when knowing all of your magnificent creations…”

Tigris put away her third empty glass and looked her interlocutor in the eyes — Lucy Gray did not need to hear what her friend was about to say, but Tigris still said it:

“Of course I am not — you know, I only agreed on this as a one-time thing; I had no idea it would be that painful to do. But the Gamemaker is so impressed already, that he offered me a partnership contract — the payment is great, much more than I could have made anywhere at the stage I am now,” she twirled her long, brittle blonde hair around her single finger.

“No, Tigris. If you feel uncomfortable, I will seriously talk with Coryo — you know that he promised to cancel this celebrated execution, right?” She held onto Tigris’s arm, but the woman only weakly smiled back and lightly shook her head.

“If he truly meant it, he wouldn’t make so much plans for the future Games, that also conveniently involve your daughter,” Coryo’s cousin, who by this point was openly called his sister, did not need to say that out loud, Lucy Gray perfectly guessed it herself — either she meant to say exactly that or something close to it. 

And you know, each second Lucy Gray wanted to doubt Tigris less and less. Coryo looked way too calm for a person that was about to obliterate the Hunger Games once and for all. But still, she wanted to talk to him — one to one. Maybe during the banquet itself. 

After all, Lucy Gray still held some hope for her husband — Coriolanus Snow was a man of his word, that’s how she knew him. 

“You’ll know why I have been keeping so little contact sooner or later. And trust me Lucy Gray, you wouldn’t like it,” Tigris crossed her arms and sighed — either because of disappointment or genuine sadness.

Her sister-in law, tugging on her dress’s skirt, did not even need to ask her again — she perfectly understood what Tigris meant. She tried to not be angry at her Coryo, but it was becoming harder and harder.

“I will give him a chance to explain. One. Last. Chance.”  

˚｡⋆❅⋆｡˚

After a long series of either standing still, waves of polite, forced smiles and pleasant-unpleasant conversations, Lucy Gray and Coryo could finally breathe out — the Cranes had just offered to watch over Aster and Philo — an old as time, perfect tactic to set up a future playdate that the President played along with, so they walked far away from the uninteresting crowd, holding onto each other like they always did. 

“Well, are you satisfied?” Lucy Gray hissed at him through a forced smile when they were standing far enough.

“...No.” Coriolanus turned her head to the side; looking at his cold, inscrutable face, Lucy Gray absolutely did not understand what was on his mind. 

Is he happy? Did he really like all this clownery? On the contrary — is he upset? Angry? No matter how she peered into his eyes, they seemed to glaze over and were covered with a veil. A veil that fell for a couple of seconds only when he looked either at the children or into her eyes.

But Lucy Gray knew for sure that she was angry with him. She didn't want to see him, she wanted to run away from the noisy, drunken crowd and soar into the sky like a canary. Coryo does not want to let her go at all — as if for him, she is a crutch that will help him survive the banquet that is unpleasant for him. He held onto her shoulder tightly and, after a while, Lucy Gray could feel the 'clack' of his teeth — irritation.

Thanks to him a bunch… Brought her here by force, and he himself is still furious. At another time, Lucy Gray would have felt sorry for him, but not now. She then touched his hand and tried to smile even through the pain in her head. 

“What, you didn't like the parade?” She asked her husband caustically, because she wanted to get even for the moral humiliation on that podium. 

“I liked the parade enough — it’s the people who are the problem, as usual. If only you knew how tiring it can get to look at these hypocritical, round faces that have garbage coming out of their mouths.” 

Lucy Gray sighed. Just great. How could she ever forget that he hates his own people too — looks like the Districts really weren't enough for him. 

Mrs. Snow wrapped her arm around his and they moved further up the high staircase, hiding on one of those small terraces, managing to catch a glimpse of a fading sunset on an already darkening sky. Lucy Gray breathed in, biting her own inner cheek — and since when does she feel so uncomfortable around him? This is Coryo — her Coryo. Then what has changed? 

“Hey,” he touched her chin and kissed her on the cheek, but she didn’t react to this at all. 

Coriolanus, who started to get annoyed by her standoffish behavior, tried to turn her towards the square through which "coffins on wheels" had so recently passed, but she stopped him and forced him to look again at the decorated hall through heavy curtains and then at himself. 

Now or never. She had to breathe, she had to ask him. If she misses this opportunity again, Coryo will continue to pour spoiled soup into her ears, and she will continue to obediently swallow it, without a shred of doubt. May gods forgive her, but Lucy Gray will never agree to live in a web of lies — well, they are a team; Coryo will definitely listen to her, if only she addresses the situation directly. 

"Sorry for ruining your little event, hun."   

“How many of these parades with dressed-up children sent to a suicide event will happen before you leave them alone?”

Snow became quiet. He was so stunned by his wife's sudden attack, and then immediately closed his mouth, which opened involuntarily.

“What are those things Lucy Gray is saying?” He quickly turned to defensive mode, as if a switch was flipped in a second. The President of Panem looked into his wife's eyes — they exuded impatience and irritation; clearly there was also some alcohol involved, as no way Lucy Gray would attack him unprovoked, or even attack him at all. 

"There won't be any other parades, you know that. Please, not here, other people might see us — what would they say if they witnessed the Panem’s first couple in any argument? Do not embarrass me—”

Lucy Gray did not let him finish, raising both of her arms: either looking like she was about to be arrested, or that she was shutting him up.

"Don't you lie to me, Coryo — at least now be honest with me, I am begging you," she grabbed the collar of his shirt with her two small hands, looking at him with pleading eyes. Lucy Gray was not afraid, even knowing that in front of her was the highest-ranking person on the continent, who had painted the road to his position with blood. “…You never planned to cancel anything, right? Right??”

He didn’t know what came over him — maybe he himself drank a bit over the limit, just to get through that pain of an evening, or the fact that Lucy Gray, who was always so sweet and gentle in her tone, spoke with such painful roughness, that he, who was already agitated enough from being forced to interact with all kinds of rotten people in those couple of hours, that a weird kind of anger quickly filled his head. 

Coriolanus squeezed her wrist painfully and pulled his wife towards him, hoping that this would shut her up quick enough — he did not mean to do that harshly, but her behavior left him no choice. In response, Lady Snow grabbed him onto a piece of skin under his shirt, pinching him. 

“Ugh,” he grimaced in slight pain and tried to free himself, quickly realizing it wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought. Both of them had an iron grip: no one wanted to give in. 

“Coryo... It hurts,” he was sure that the tears Lucy Gray was pouring out and her trembling voice were fake; no way she would actually be hurt by him, he would never do that to her. 

"We are going to talk at home," talking through his gritted teeth, Snow pushed her hand away first, looking at Lucy Gray with eyes full of sadness. How did that happen? They were on the same page and now she is acting like this out of nowhere? He felt his stomach turning at a small realization, when he looked at the same brown, sparkling eyes that were always his cure of headaches and his heart, bleeding of tiredness in this monotonous, but still bloody life. 

No, he was not ashamed about today. Not at all, not a bit, he isn’t supposed to be.

He only just realised that Lucy Gray no longer believed him.  

˚｡⋆❅⋆｡˚

As soon as the Snow couple returned home late in the evening, Lucy Gray, ignoring the bathroom and barely washing off her formal makeup and getting rid of her elegant clothes, locked herself in her office, pressing her full body inside the couch. She felt like vomiting all over again as she saw the door handle being shaken and the loud banging of it echoed in her heart. 

“Lucy Gray! Lucy Gray, talk to me!” Coriolanus continued to persistently pound on the office door, at random time yelling something incomprehensible. It seemed a little more and he would be so done, that a steel axe would be brought. 

“Don't yell! The children are sleeping!” She blurted out, throwing a supply of pencils towards the door, which hit the wooden surface with a slight crash, and then the sound of falling tools was heard. After that, Coriolanus really became quiet, and so did Lucy Gray, who was completely uncharacteristic of such fits. Soon, he knocked again, this time more calmly — the lady opened.

“And what are you doing here? What has gotten into you during the banquet, Love — did you drink too much?” Snow crossed his arms, but she didn't even look him in the eyes, standing directly in front of him and then started clutching the collar of his grayish shirt all over again. Any kind of patience she had with her husband for today was gone; indeed… It was gone long ago, but she held onto a silver lining of hope, to have a normal conversation — now, the silver lining was mercilessly cut too.

She didn't want to do this. If she had a magic, reverse red button, Lucy Gray would have pressed it without a second thought, bringing back those few seconds of pure rage that she dumped in the President’s face. But it couldn't go on like this anymore — she had been pretending to be the great blind and deaf for way too long... Too long not to notice the real truth — and yet it was always there, written on his lying face. 

"When we reunited in District 12, I asked you not to lie to me,” Coriolanus’s lower lip slightly trembled from her harsh voice, that was seconds away from spilling out the truth, actual truth that he has been avoiding for way too long. “That was my only damn request, but you couldn’t even give me that.”

Tears began to flow from her eyes, as she held her hands to her face — Lucy Gray was a person of emotion; when you force people like this to suppress them, those feelings will never go away — they stay inside, ready for an even slightest signal going off to be let out. And the lady has gotten it.

Her husband tried to hug her gently, but instead of accepting this gesture, he received a loud slap on the cheek. 

Lucy Gray seemed to have even overdone it — the hit was too strong, that might’ve been expected from her “weak” hands. The hand moved on its own, never in her life she could imagine laying her hand on Coryo — that was impossible, something that would come up in nightmares. But this already happened and there was no way to twist the time back — that hit was enough to make his single eye twitch; now, it was something personal and his songbird had crossed the line. With the last of his strength, he slammed his fist against the stone wall and Lucy Gray jumped away from him, with a plastered expression of sincere fear on her face. 

Coriolanus, who had bared his teeth, trying to suppress the burning pain in his cheek, which started to turn red, now reminded her of a wild animal. Holding a cold fist to his face, he raised his head and looked at his wife, his eyes filled with deep offense, but even more than just that — rage.

“Are you insane, Lucy Gray?! What in the world are you doing, everything was fine with us!” Coriolanus, who was trying to suppress his raging emotions until the last moment, felt his breath catching up to him, as he looked at Lucy Gray first, then her shaking hand second. She moved a step away from him, with her eyes round and terrified to death, while barely being able to breathe.

“Fine? Do you really call this life good?! Do not make me laugh!” her voice cracked as she was one step away from full-blown crying. Now, even the songs couldn’t help her; the same thing that always managed to calm Lucy Gray down whenever she felt distressed.

“Don’t you dare act like a victim now..” Deeply panicked, Snow moved forward, grabbed her by the shoulders and started to shake her with all his might, hoping that she would shut up and not say the words that he had been so afraid to hear for whole seven years. 

But all to no avail — Lucy Gray was one of those birds that sang even with her tongue torn out. 

“How could you lie to me? And about what — about the Hunger Games! Coryo, these are children’s lives at stake! They have nothing to do with this!” Coriolanus tried to shut her up again and received a second slap, this time from the other side — now this one was far less painful, but still earned Lucy Gray with her hands being grabbed by Snow and being held in one position — this was probably the first time his force has genuinely scared her. 

“Coryo, let go!”

“So you can hit me again?” His voice also started to shake along with hers — Coriolanus knew that he was causing her pain, but he couldn’t do anything; Lucy Gray left him no choice. 

They spent some time in this frozen position, as the time felt stretched out forever — she didn't say another word or move, in fear that he would lose control so badly that he could potentially stretch out her arm. Finally, the lady, as unwashed mascara was dripping on her cheeks, really calmed down and continued to glare at him with a scorching cold gaze. 

“I'm giving you a chance, the last one. Immediately dial the number of politicians, presenters and well — anyone. And say that you would cancel the next year’s and all of the following Hunger Games.”

What she got in response was dead silence, while she tried to free her arms — nothing helped and hard red marks from his horrifically strong hand started showing up even on her tan skin.

"You promised," Lucy Gray emphasized the last words, cutting the air with them.

Coriolanus, his face already red from her blows and twitching, was in no hurry — he just grabbed her shoulders and without making a sound, pressed on them with such force, as if he was about to slam her into the floor and will leave it that way. 

No words were needed — his body had already said everything for him. There was nothing but bottomless hatred inside Coriolanus Snow, and in his eyes, seemingly long-extinguished, but still weakly smoldering embers had flared with even stronger fire than before. That was how bad his hatred for the Districts was and he looked to be fully embracing it. 

While her hands were still kept together and were hurting like crazy, Lucy Gray took a good look at his face and tried to imagine in the place of President Snow that same Coryo who always stayed out late, kissed her goodnight, the same kind Capitol boy who went through fire and water with her and whom she protected from nightmares, each time stroking his golden hair... 

There was nothing.

It was as if another person was standing in front of her — a monster with crazy, icy eyes whom she was seeing for the first time. In these very seconds, she realized that she just wanted to run away — to disappear into the forest, as she had suggested to him seven years ago... Taking more air into her chest, instead of a scream, something similar to a strangled gnashing escaped from Lucy Gray's throat.

“I'm leaving, Coriolanus. And you will never see me again.” 

Simple words but so much effect. Hearing this, Snow was again taken aback, but after a moment he was ready to yell at the sky as he processed this. 

"No. No, please, not this. Not now... She won't dare to leave me."   

Lucy Gray was joking, definitely — after all, where could she possibly go, when she belonged to him since the beginning? But the serious-looking woman in front of him did not look like she was joking.

What finally twisted the knife that was stuck right into Coriolanus’ heart with horrible pain was hearing his full name instead of the affectionate "Coryo", as Lucy Gray was always calling him. First Tigris, now it was his little bird — and why is this always happening to him, why do closest people love to trample his heart and dance on his nerves so much?

If Tigris would prefer to be ungrateful and cut him off after everything he has done for her, it was fine by the President — most important was that Lucy Gray was there, but now even she was standing so close to betrayal, although Coriolanus did not want to believe this. He had no idea that something as trivial as a lack of a stupid nickname would be so painful — after all, he had always been of the opinion that it was higher than this kind of sentimentality. 

Seeing red and without control over his body, Coriolanus grabbed Lucy Gray by the wrist and pulled her towards himself. Like a wounded hyena, she screamed bloody murder, so much so that her scream echoed throughout the presidential palace and tore out her throat for that.

“Let go, let go! Let me leave!” Finally freeing one of her arms from his deathly grip, she slashed her husband on the cheek with her long nails, leaning on him with all her small weight, so he’ll let her go. 

Unable to keep their balance from the suddenness, they both fell through the opened door into the corridor and continued their confrontation there.

Lucy Gray was already wailing like crazy and even Snow, who had sworn to himself never to shed tears, began to feel the slowly dripping drops on his face. The smell of sugar with which the lady was soaked was mixed with the smell of his own blood, that was leaking out from his cheek.

He held only her tightly, and did not move while she kicked and poured out streams of abuse and curses at him, muffled by his hands. 

"I believed you, damned Capitol! All of you, soulless porcelain dolls are the same — I can’t even believe I left the Covey to stay here, with a rotten fruit like you; I'd rather die from starvation than spend a second by your side!”

Having to fight to remove her face from his icy chest, Lucy Gray looked at him with a look full of hatred, directed only at him and him alone. 

There was a bitter taste in her mouth — after all, from the hidden and sealed iron chest of her heart, her old love for Coriolanus continued to bust out. They had everything in their relationship — passion, joy, sadness and a bond like no other soul in this damned country: only they in the whole wide world were able to understand one another so well, that it felt like they knew each other forever. 

For Snow, Lucy Gray was a guiding light that always gently reassured him with her sweet light, helping him not to completely fall into darkness and he was happy with it. 

While for Lucy Gray, Coriolanus has been a symbol of hope and changes since that day he came back for her — he is a pillar supporting a shaky palace, a protector. And it was at that moment that this pillar collapsed for her, leaving behind only pieces of bricks covered with a thick layer of dust.

Coriolanus still refused to let her go, burying his face deeper and deeper into her shoulder, holding onto her like she was the most precious possession in a collection, which Lucy Gray was to many of the Capitolites and as she suspected, to Coryo also. 

The mixed smells of roses, sugar and blood almost made him turn inside out, but he only coughed, as his voice was low from the wish to keep his emotions in. 

“No. You will not go anywhere and you will not hide — you are mine. I still want to save us, I promise that I love you. I don't need anyone here except you, everyone around me is disgusting," taking a breath every now and then, Snow repeated these words like an old school rhyme. It was all too much happening in such a short time, that she almost gave up. Almost every three seconds the same memories when Coriolanus was gentle with her and the children flashed through her head — but did it really matter?

Lucy Gray was back at the Arena, at the place of her nightmares. And now, a pretty but sneaky boy will not save her — he will be the one hunting for her in those underground tunnels, while she will be fighting for her pathetic life out of pure despair.

She tried to break away from him completely, but immediately felt a tenacious hand on her throat. One glimpse on his face and she understood that Snow head really lost his marbles.

This lasted only a couple of seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. The air was leaving Lucy Gray, who started coughing from deep pain and was looking pleadingly at Coriolanus — she even plunged one of her long-nailed fingers into his neck, trying to free herself, but it was as if Snow did not react to outside pain when he was causing pain to anyone else. 

“A... Coriol— Ow…”

As his grip on her neck was becoming stronger, less and less air stayed in her lungs; no way to either inhale or exhale, as his strong fingers were so close in breaking her tiny bones. And her dear husband was also amazing in his role; look at him — this is a true drama actor!

After a second of pure rage had washed away, Coriolanus saw Lucy Gray's eyes bulging with horror and disgust and immediately let her go. He looked at his twitching hand for a while, covered in cold sweat, unable to utter a word. 

Then, even the tears stopped flowing.   

“Lucy... Lucy Gray. Love... I didn’t mean that... Sorry… I’m so sorry,” the words were leaking out of his mouth, but meant nothing.

He, hugging Lucy Gray, fell with her to the floor, as she desperately gasping for air, could not believe what just happened. 

Both were wounded, crying, and their heads began to throb in pain. Lucy Gray kept repeatedly touching her throat, which continued to hurt; the pain was so real that it felt like she had a mirror right now, she could see her neck slowly first turning blue, then purple. Her face right now definitely looked worse than a ghost’s, as she continued to sit on the floor, unsuccessfully pushing Coriolanus away from herself and silently swallowing burning tears.

“What is your reason now? Just why, why are you doing this?!” 

The girl from the Covey was not an idiot. She didn't ask this question about herself and their relationship — now, Snow clearly showed her what his "great love" was worth. All she wanted to know was why he was so keen on keeping her by his side. What was there to keep that would make him feel better; she ruined his precious face — in reality, Lucy Gray was sure that she was a goner as soon as she gave him the first slap on the cheek. 

Coriolanus kept her towards chest until she lost her pulse, continuing to mutter: "Don't leave, don't leave..." Like a child. 

Those were the very words he spoke to her before the engagement. Five years ago, when they were happy and Lucy Gray was naive enough that she believed him and left everything for his sake. And here is what it led to. Although, honestly, how could it have been any different? Their love did not come from fairytales, or from some stupid stars — Snow always preferred to keep his belongings where he could see them and was not not letting any compromises in during arguments.

But the bird does not sing in captivity. Even if it is fed with choice grain and kept in a golden cage, not a single sincere note will escape from her throat. 

“I need you. Don't ask why — I just do, so you are staying here. Understood?," clearing his throat, Coriolanus finally spoke and helped her get up. Lucy Gray's gaze is impenetrable — now, it has become so bad, that even her own husband cannot give clear answers to why the hell he is keeping her here?! ...Really... For what? 

Also, run away… As if she actually had a place to come back to — this is where she could partially thank Coriolanus for this.

"You know. You know that the bastard Mayor Lipp hanged everyone from Covey, all for one pathetic life of his lying, spoiled daughter after you and I disappeared, he didn't even spare Maude Ivory..." the old wounds, covered with non-healing scars, began to bleed again. Lucy Gray's face twisted into a disgusting grin again, but to Coriolanus she was still beautiful. 

Her heart was bleeding as she unlocked the memories that she tried to keep away from her head most of the time — the innocent days, where was no Reaping, no Billy Taupe and his grouch of a “girlfriend”, who could not handle being the second choice, so sent an innocent girl to die in the Arena. But only music, laughter with Barb Azure, practicing the pieces of Tam Amber, running after Clerk Carmine, who as always was busy with anything but actual work. And how could she forget retelling the same three tales she could remember from her mama to Maude Ivory! Lucy Gray changed the plot in some way every time, but the skeleton of happy, uplifting stories always stayed the same.

But the story of Covey themselves was not uplifting at all — the crumbs of a ruined culture, her family, innocent people that did nothing wrong… All of their lives ended because of a man who decided to play a little god in his playground and because one specific person from the Capitol did nothing to bring them here, despite her constant begging…

That day when Coriolanus brought the news of a spontaneous execution in District 12 was supposed to be the day she should have left. 

“But oh foolish Lucy Gray, you stayed! And now, karma has finally arrived to strike you from the back!”  

She moved her head, as her messed up hair fell on her face, covered with tears, still feeling Cory… No, Coriolanus’ hands on her shoulders.

“...I have nowhere to run. I will either die from hunger, or succumb to an illness, or even better, I will be shot by one of your sent Peacekeepers.” 

"I'll cut off his legs and feed him alive to the dogs if that happens. No one will dare to touch you," Coriolanus touched Lucy Gray's face from complete despair. 

She finally raises her dark eyes at him, which, due to the piece of the moon reflected in them, seemed white. Lucy Gray has no one except him and their children. There is nowhere to run. Coriolanus is right — she won't leave and he knows it.

“The Games will continue, right?” She longer spoke in a trembling voice, but in a completely lifeless one. Her neck gradually began to turn purple, and her eyes became clouded again. 

Only a silent "yes" escaped Coriolanus' lips. This time he didn't lie. 

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And none of them, while they were sitting on the floor, and before that they were ready to tear each other's faces into pieces, did not notice a fragile figure peeking out from around the corner of the wall, who had dropped his beloved plush duckling on the sturdy floor and whose bare feet were rooted to the floor from horror that appeared before this child’s eyes. 

The tears of six-year-old Aster Snow, which were the size of a large pea, rolled down his round cheeks and remained in the form of huge drops on the floor. 

His eyes trembled and widened until they became two glassy plates, while he was watching his wounded mom freakishly smile as the moon fell on her while his equally hurt dad held her in his arms, like an old rag doll. 

"Ma... Dad..." he tried to whine, scream, but no sound came out.

And in only two days, the second and meanwhile the youngest host of the Hunger Games had debuted — whole Panem could now witness how exactly the little, charming 5 years old baby was taking the interviews from the tributes, like she was doing this her whole life. That day, the whole Capitol had fallen head over heels for Philomel Snow.

Chapter Text

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If an ordinary citizen of the Capitol looked out the window and looked at the city during the 18th Hunger Games and after, he would see a huge difference. The streets were now polished to a shine, and several squares were simply littered with televisions and advertising banners, half of which showed the latest fashion trends... 

...Which, in recent times, has devolved into becoming even crazier — some especially “smart” people have already begun to dye their hair in wild colors like hot pink, bright lemon and wear all kinds of insane outfits like the one with a huge bow that is a three times as big as the head of a person who wore it like a head accessory. But, no matter how crazier the world became, one thing remained constant during these nine years. 

The President of Panem for 9 years already, Coriolanus Snow, continued to remain in power, even after those messy years it took for them to completely recover from the aftermath of the Districts’ Revolt, so the country could finally turn the page and start a new chapter in its life. 

During this time, no one decided to even dare shaking the position of the "young and weak" leader, who, currently, really turned into a true cult of a person — that’s how Lucy Gray referred to the obsession a lot of citizens had developed both for the man and his entire family. And it was true — the Capitol adored him for his beauty, inquisitive mind and initiative and firm hand; now no one has any doubt that their president is the future of Panem. The symbols of the Snow house were now everywhere, the televisions were buzzing about the next successful project, and no newspaper could not do without mentioning "Coriolanus Snow..." at the beginning of the front page. Looks like his lifelong dreams really came true. 

“What a truly dreadful city — you can just see when the people around are bored out of their minds, even if they bathe in luxury.”  

Looking up and putting away the newspaper, Lucy Gray rolled down the car window, asking her Avox driver to sound the horn if her children show up from the Academy — despite that she never wanted Avoxes working for her family, it seemed like the rules had other plans, so the least she could do was treat the driver with decency. 

As soon as she did so, her car’s interior was immediately filled with eye-sore smells of strawberries, bubble gum and mint. 

"Did they pour a whole bottle on themselves?" — the woman thought, wincing. These nine years seemed to pass without a trace for her — she didn't even look 33, but 20. No doubt that she liked it, as her whole life, she was truly confident in one thing — her beauty. 

The time changes only affected her wardrobe, but even a girl who was so used to wearing bright dresses and Covey-like accessories, began to get used to the elegant and classic clothes that was a must-wear for the Snow family; so she, adjusting her large sunglasses and fixing a dark green scarf that covered her whole head, leaned back, waiting for kids — to kill time, Lucy Gray clicked on the radio, but the device had a nasty surprise for her:

This world, it's dark,  

This world, it's scary.  

I've taken some hits, so   

No wonder I'm wary.  

It's why I,  

Need you

You're as pure as the driven snow.  

Biting the right side of her cheek and not even listening to her own song to the end, Lucy Gray immediately turned off the annoying radio, rolling her eyes. 

"Cheesy idiocy. I'm sure he did it on purpose — and when this song is already taken off the air, I’m so sick of it."   

Although, it was useless to ask herself this — she understood that the answer would be "never." 

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And while Lucy Gray was waiting, the doors of the Academy were finally opened and a river of students in bright red uniforms flooded down the stairs, trying to not hit each other.

“That test literally fried me alive…”

A group of four was walking down the stairs the slowest, two boys and two girls, two of whom, as always, had smug smirks plastered on their faces and were chuckling to each other.

“Don’t act like you actually wrote something correctly, Cyril,” turning his head and still keeping the eye on his sister, whose arm was wrapped around his, the son of President of Panem, Aster Snow raised both of his eyebrows up with a sarcastic smile.

His best friend and companion since childhood, Cyril Crane laughed along with him. Philomel, who was quiet this entire time, finally snapped out of her as Vanessa Cardew once called it: “soup-like state” and put her palm over her brother’s arm.

“Come on, have some faith in them.”

“Nope, Aster’s right about both Cy and me,” another one of Aster’s childhood friends, Iolanthe Moss, chimed in, doing a silly twitch with her head, that moved her shoulder-cut deep green coloured hair; she was constant in her changes of appearance, so today she was green, tomorrow was pink and a week later green again, proving for over 20 minutes that now it is a much deeper shade, therefore different and totally fits better with her fair skin tone.

Silly, yes; but if it makes her happy, nobody had the right to insult her over it, as if a daughter of an "Agricultural King" ever cared about what people thought of her or maybe just didn't care much about anything unless it was her friends or gossip. Both Cyril and Iolanthe were glaring contrasts of the Academy’s “golden kids” — unlike the Snow siblings, both Iolanthe and Cyril were the personification of the Capitol; were almost weekly dying their hair, from natural shades to any “crazy” one, like color white that Cyril had for five days already, partied and also very much understood their positions. 

And a thing that could be noticed by anyone who had eyes in the right place was that the pair looked healthy in appearance even without much makeup, while Aster was walking around the Academy with a pale face and dark eyebags and Philo had to spend 30 minutes each day, painting over the red marks that were around both of her eyes. 

Their group formed on its own — Cyril and him were already friends pre-Academy and Iolanthe, being the closest thing to a part of a proper family, was simply always around. And of course, Aster decided that Philomel will be hanging out with them too; the girl didn’t mind much, as it would be much better than sitting at the table all by herself.

“So, do you think you did remotely good?” Aster still was not letting go of the test results, as those two will be his support system later in life, where he planned to succeed his father in his respectable position. “Or did you leave all the top places for the charity cases again?” 

“Not funny,” thought Philomel and rolled her eyes, seeing Cyril laughing all over again — at least Iolanthe had the control in continuing the sipping of her drink in hand and not joining in with the mockery. 

“Well, you nerd didn’t study like a crazy person so just for some scholarship butt to steal your precious number one spot,” almost falling down the stairs, Crane was kept in line by Aster, who had the reaction to grab his collar.

“Oh, I told you to be more careful,” drawling out her words in a sweet tone, Iolanthe offered Cyril her drink. “Here, Cy, you probably got tired from the test.” 

“Tired of using his braincells once in a lifetime you mean?” Cyril rolled his eyes at Aster’s words, but to his credit, the Snow heir was very quick to specify that he was joking — both boys were used to this kind of sarcasm thrown onto one another, despite Philo always telling that it was outright bullying.

“Well, they bully the less fortunate, but like to mock each other. C'mon, it’s fun!” Iolanthe always told such things to Philomel, all while the things on her mind was not only that her brother was sometimes going overboard, but also, how could Moss pour so much sugar in herself? 

She didn’t like both of them this much, but got used to tolerating the duo for her brother’s sake — yet, Cyril’s constant troublemaking and Iolanthe’s absolutely dense behavior from time to time definitely didn’t do much justice to them.

“I’m surprised you didn’t throw that drink at Paulina’s head because making fun of the ones with no Old Money in their pockets is just so fun — am I right, Cyril?”  

But, it was better to just keep silent then raise up annoyance with their attitude — if her father was here at this moment, he wouldn’t have liked the member of a Snow family paying so much attention to the students who (gasp!) had to pay loads of money to study with his children at the Academy, since they lacked the “proper” connections.

Obviously, Philomel was a master in hiding her true feelings over such matters — almost nine years on television will do that to you; plus, those were Aster’s friends and she had no business lecturing them. After all, she is a Snow and must be on their side. 

“Come on Cyril — let’s give some of them at least a tiny chance to succeed in life, if they have no other options.”

It was at moments like this, when Aster started his high-horse cocky rambling that Philomel had to remind herself that her brother was just joking around and not actually being serious.

But clearly, not everyone thought that way, as Crane’s smirk almost reached his ears and he leaned close to Iolanthe, whispering something Philomel’s ears couldn’t catch. Then, he returned to his boastful attitude, being gladly supported by his best friend.

“…But, you obviously don’t mean that you let a low-life put themselves at your level?”

“Of course not,” Aster nodded to Philo, as if expecting a supportive response from her, but the young one only gave a weak smile in return. 

“Boys, boys, relax — not those guys’ fault that they are poor,” Iolanthe kept on her usual smile — she always sounded like this when she tried to be supportive and for similar comments was considered by the Academy students to be one of the “good ones” — well she probably was as Iolanthe is no Cardew; no cases of bullying or even a bad word towards other came from her mouth.

Philo was already used to this, so like most times, she only reacted with a pretty, full teeth smile, which the Capitolites always took as a good sign. 

“What? Excuse me, they are not poor!” Aster was better in hiding his intentions to chuckle on this statement, but he only got his arm out of her grip and put his two hands on Philo’s shoulder.

“They might have some money, but they are poor in other regards and you know that. Well, at least they are not starving like in the Districts, but still, not all individuals are equally proficient; some simply excel more than others."

Suddenly, Philomel noticed a familiar car approaching and honking a bit, so she quickly hit Aster with her elbow, to quiet him down, as she usually did. 

“I think that’s ours. So, see you later? I’m sure Aster will still call you this evening Cyril — just please, don’t talk about letting out the toads, you might have had an inspiration after your today’s stunt.”

Slightly laughing, Cyril and Iolanthe just prepared to say a simple goodbye to their friends, but to their surprise, a window rolled down and a face they clearly didn’t expect to see stuck out from it.

“Oh oh. Hope none of us are toast,” thought Philo, nervously trying to return a smile to her face.

“Ma?” Aster raised his eyebrow and his usual self-righteous smirk that he wore for this day and all the previous days has vanished without a trace, being quickly replaced with a look of pure confusion. Meanwhile Philo looked stoked to finally seeing her mother in person after 3 days of absence and practically dragged her brother there. 

All the mean spirit going around the Capitol quartet had disappeared, even Cyril and Iolanthe waving politely with: “Good afternoon Lady Snow.” — then, awkwardly waved goodbye, with Cyril probably praying inside that the woman didn’t hear anything she “shouldn't have” or else Aster might’ve caught some big smoke around himself for that. 

While the three teens looked awkward with Lucy Gray just randomly showing up and interrupting their speech of superiority, all while Philomel found it hard to keep away from smiling as she was more than glad to be out of there.

It was nothing personal against both of them. Just either Cyril or Iolanthe were either too troublesome or too clueless to be considered actually likable by her standards. 

Even Aster sometimes didn’t get a pass and he was her flesh and blood, thought Philomel, before hopping in the car and paying full attention to her mother. 

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Both kids got in the car and exchanged simple glances with their mother, before driving off fully. Despite Philo’s desire to actually talk, nothing but “hmm-s” or “emm-s” left her mouth, while Aster was deadly silent. Slight surprise from his face also was changed to a puffed up cheeks expression and Lucy Gray could only allow herself to silently observe her kids, also not fully being able to properly form a conversation.

This awkward moment continued for quite some time, until the presidential family’s car got stuck in a traffic jam — while signaling everywhere as obviously, every single person in the Capitol thought their time was more important than everyone else’s as of course it was. Finally, looking around, breathing in and taking her sunglasses off, looking both her children in the eyes, Lucy Gray cleared her throat, deciding to start a conversation: 

"So, how was school?" 

Fabulous. The question is so hackneyed that it could well have been asked by the most unoriginal person in the world, but not by the "greatest singer and Capitol’s darling Lucy Gray Snow." 

Aster looked up from the window, gave his mother a slightly irritated look, and turned away again, without engaging in the attempt at all, while Philomel immediately clapped her hands and with the brightest of smiles on her face, exclaimed: 

"During biology, Cyril's swamp snake crawled away, which he was actually supposed to keep an eye on! Then almost the entire class ran away from the building — we had to run around the school for half an hour and search for the poor thing, can you imagine?” 

Philomel laughed, albeit cautiously, allowing herself to smile only at the edges of her mouth, revealing her teeth, which were sparkling white, but her smile looked much more sincere that the one she was giving Aster’s clique at the end of the day. Lucy Gray giggled, but it looked like a switch was flipped inside Aster, so he decided to be indignant even by something trivial like a joke.

“Crane is such an arrogant clutz that I always have to keep his idiot arse out of trouble, while he can’t keep track of anything to save his life. As a result, most of the lesson went down the drain and I wanted to listen to the lecture. So yeah, not funny.”

“Aster, my favorite brother Aster, someday your jokes will reach his ears and you are going to be burned by it — how would he like that his best friend says such things behind his back?” Philomel lightly butted him with her shoulder and Aster bit his tongue. 

"It doesn’t change that it’s me who has to carry him throughtout our academic day. He is lucky if he ever properly graduates with such an attitude on life," the teen muttered under his breath with a light smirk, before crossing his arms and resting his cheek on the cold glass. “Though he is still the least of my worries in this school — the idiots surrounding me didn’t go anywhere and I have to bear with them for 3 whole years.”

Lucy Gray did not look confused on his words as she remembered her son talking about this as a “normality” in their friendship and it was meant to be funny. Since when openly degrading one another on a regular basis became “funny” she had no idea, but on this Aster told her that it is now how teens talk to each other, receiving only a confused: “Okay” in response.

“Mom, mom, I’m so glad that you are here,” Philo, who didn’t want to miss the chance to talk, took both of her mother’s and brother’s hands and was looking like she finally regained her portion of confidence back.

She told about the hour-long preparation for the history test and about the fact that a synthetic additive for the fat content of the dough was not brought to the kitchen, which is why the entire Academy was left without dessert — one of the parallel class’ students, Cosette Archibald walked all day with pouty lips and a downcast face as soon as the head teacher announced that dessert was canceled. 

“To be honest, I was so surprised that she didn’t phone her maid to bring her what she wanted.”

“Iolanthe told me that this girl got on her mom’s bad side after she didn’t make it to the top 20 three days ago. So, I think her attitude will be slightly mellowed… For like three days,” Aster chuckled and as always, Philo was surprised by the amount of school gossip that could have fit in this brain, which was “supposed” to be filled with studies and big plans for the future. 

To this, Lucy Gray only smiled sarcastically, ruffling her daughter’s hair. "I wish I had their problems when I was their age!" she thought sighing, resting her neck on the white car seat retainer, quietly sipping what the kids thought was just fruit juice from a closed cup.

As they were slowly getting through the traffic jam that was beside the television studio sector, more and more posters and billboards could be seen. They were all either pink, white, or the color of thick custard and those posters all depicted the same child — light makeup, various dresses in light colors, and golden hair always curled in a wide variety of hairstyles. Now, a huge, but still very old poster is already showing — little Philomel in a white dress, behind which there are angel wings; the feathers of course, were real and not even painted. 

This promotional photo was taken right before the 18th Hunger Games, and having the daughter of the President of Panem as one of the hosts was a huge part of the promotional campaign for that edition — this was also the turning point of her career, as her performance during the tribute interview, that her fate as a forever host of the Hunger Games was sealed; exactly as Coriolanus had planned. Aster always loved to admire the charming photographs of his beloved sister, which gave her self-esteem a smallest of pleasure — at least something aesthetically pleasing came out of a bloody mess that were the Hunger Games in reality, but the Capitol only ever saw one side of them, which was full of chic and glitter. 

“Do you want to wait in traffic for a while longer? Aster whispered with a small smile, receiving only a ruffle of his unruly, dark hair from his sister in response. 

Lucy Gray also tried to smile, but Aster was not eager to react, so some hope for a sweet “mom-kids” moment was destroyed. 

Aster only peeked out the window, and sometimes at Philomel — he barely crossed eyes with his mother. He was more interested in watching the passers-by, each of whom looked crazier than the other; one lady decorated herself with peacock feathers, but another man really took the prize for being the most ridiculous on this street; the guy walked all yellow, with the same yellow dog on his back. leash. 

"And where did you get the idea that you look great? Just looking at you and my appetite immediately disappears!" Aster looked at the passerby with a contemptuous look and even inside he was a little offended that this walking lemon most likely did not notice him. 

From the very beginning of this "new trend in fashion," Coriolanus prohibited any modifications to his body, and the children themselves were disgusted by these trends. Yes, of course, there is a possibility that they will be mistaken for the poor ones from the Districts, but so far everything seems to be fine. 

"At least we don't look like residents inside lucid dreams," Aster tried to distract himself with thoughts of anything other than the question he wanted to ask his mother, while continuing to keep silent. He had no idea why she, after yet again leaving, was suddenly greeting them, instead of their father just sending an empty car.

“They definitely had a fight again. Thanks a bunch, mom and dad,” rolling his eyes, the boy nervously tucked his hair behind his ear. 

Lucy Gray, biting her lower lip, decided to not talk much about her project. 

“You demanded of me that I accompany my own children today, just so I could use the funding… And now, I have to attend your horror of a family dinner, Coriolanus — when will it be the day that you get a clue?” thought Lucy Gray, already coming up with a song to embarrass him for his mental cruelty. 

After all, she was running and was also trapped in the Capitol for 9 years already. And knew that no matter how hard she tries, Coriolanus will never let go of her, even if that meant putting her through embarrassment and real torture — he damn knew that she hated the whole concept of Avoxes, yet stuck her in a car with this innocent; no one in the family even knew their driver’s name, or as Capitol citizens said: “it didn’t matter anymore”. 

Didn’t matter, just like her freedom…

The car drove in deathly silence, all the way to the presidential palace. The Avox man hurried to open the door, but only the brother and sister got out of the car. Lady Snow remained where she was, without any intention of moving. 

Her body tensed as soon as she saw the presidential palace again. Drilling into this huge, white cage, she could barely restrain herself from starting to bite the outer nails of her left hand when already promising herself to never do that, at least not in front of the children. 

“Again?” Aster leaned towards the car door. His voice sounded irritated, and a dissatisfied grimace appeared on his face. 

"Sorry honey, but you know — work, conferences... I also need to manage the competition process," Lucy Gray answered sharply and quickly, without a single sparkle of guilt in her eyes; she had to do it, all to not break down in tears later. 

“Will you at least come for dinner?” Philo opened the car’s door again and took her mother’s hand — Lucy Gray, despite feeling horrible, uncomfortable and truly helpless, took her daughter’s hand back and smiled in response. 

“Ugh, dinner. Don’t remind me.”   

“I will look into it, but it looks like your father begins to lose his patience. So, I think we can discuss our plans for this evening. Okay?” 

For Aster, it only meant: “never” — he heard those promises many times in his life and knew that unless dad forced his mother’s hand, she would never return to the “Castle of Snow” again. So, he only huffed, gave a lazy goodbye wave and left, while Philomel kissed her mother on the cheek and waved to the driver.

“Alright mom… I guess see you later. Hope you actually return this time.”

Hearing this was hard, but as Lucy Gray believed, they should have gotten used to this a long time ago. Philomel took her brother's arm and his offended expression disappeared. She tried to squeeze out a smile and nodded confidently, as if making it clear: "everything is fine, really." 

Lucy Gray was satisfied with this answer. The car drove away from there and small figures in bright red clothes began to move away a little — once the palace was just a blur behind her, Lucy Gray hid her face behind her sunglasses all over again, as if putting a barrier between herself and the world.

She had to do it — or else, the bird would have gone crazy and break her neck without any help from her jailer’s help. 

Over the past years, she has avoided life in the presidential palace by hook or by crook. The bird was unhappy being locked in a cage, so continued hammering the iron bars with its beak. Lucy Gray was not afraid and she was not even ashamed of what she was avoiding. Coriolanus started this game first, but clearly did not expect the game to drag on so long — well, he clearly didn't know his own darling that well! 

"I hope you're tearing your hair out because you won't see me again. Honestly, you deserve it, Coriolanus."  

She, thinking about this, gave out a broken, similar to a twisted smile, now quite openly drinking champagne from a thin glass. 

Instead of crying over her butchered and mutilated life she, leaving the stuffy car, confidently and proudly entered the reception hall of the Academy — although it belonged to the educational institution, it was located so far that she had to drive a good part of the city to get there, but the woman did not complain much. 

"Listen to the finalists, arrange the dormitories, visit the school building... And Tigris, of course." Lucy Gray, holding back a smile, looked through the cards and listened to videos of those who took first place in her two-month music program. From the day she and Coriolanus quarreled to smithereens, Lucy Gray threw herself headlong into her project, which was her passion to give the children of the Districts a life that they truly deserved.

And although Coriolanus tried to prove to her that her idea was "stupid and useless", she only wanted to spit in his eyes, just to prove him wrong. Well, without any idea how, but the dire presence of the poisonous blue eyes, looking to destroy her only ever ambition in life had disappeared; well, it was only a good thing for Lucy Gray, so she had nothing to complain about. 

And now, as if to spite him, she is already thinking about how to fit these "wretched" into his precious little world. 

There were 12 winners in her competition in total — one for each District and all these children were between 14 and 16 years old. They were still young and did not really live in the world, therefore, Lucy Gray dreamed of giving them hope for a bright future, after all, the “biggest reward” in this case was freedom from the Hunger Games, may it rot in hell. They will be placed in the Academy, in which she has achieved the addition of such a subject as "music" — of course, they will all go there and they have already formed an ensemble together. 

Her idea was that once her students complete their studies, they will receive individual privileges by the Capitol, allowing them to either obtain a citizenship, or be allowed to return to their Districts as an upper middle class. 

No doubt, Lucy Gray understood that the plan was not ideal and the pricks from high society would never accept them. But giving up was not at all in her character — what kind of changes will it be then if she does nothing for her people? 

So, fully prepared and determined, for about three hours she was hanging on the phone, said hello and sent away the third group of stewards, all of which had sour expressions on their faces — none of them liked her idea, but Lucy Gray was tough like a flint. 

This is where her decade long experience as an artist became useful: for each of them, Lucy Gray managed to smile and present the situation differently, keeping the friendly, innocent facade, all while digging under each and every person who looked like he wanted to fry her alive for such outrageous ideas. But, this was not the problem — many of those important people in suits, looking as serious for the Capitol as they could be, clearly didn’t take her seriously, only nodding politely when she was jumping through all the hoops imaginable.

“They clearly think that it’s just a spoiled politician’s wife playing with a business, like their own wifes are, the ones that constantly open and close the restaurants that they always name after themselves. Well, they are up for a surprise,” she was thinking, spinning a pen around her fingers, as the last group left. Finally, the almost four hour torture with no breaks has ened, but the First Lady of Panem felt so overwhelmed, that she could only fall back onto her swiveling chair upholstered in dark red leather and look at the ceiling. Sometimes, her glance fell on her desk, where an old photo was standing.

There were many moments in the songbird’s life, that she wanted to shatter it, throw that thing away once and for all — but it was a memory… One of the small good ones that were left from those crumbs that were once called a family.

“It’s not even a family anymore, but a moving circus.”  

Suddenly, her communicator rang — Lucy Gray had ho desire to answer yet another news about the postponement of school renovations when the stewards "forgot something again." 

More than anything else, she now wanted to run away to her favorite underground club, put her disguise on and sing to an audience that really knew something about music. But, reluctantly picking up the device from the table, a sincere smile began to play on her face again — that was Tigris! 

“Hello?”

The voice on the other side was quiet, but she continued. Tigris had barely answered the calls for the past three months and was refusing visitors, so this was her best friend’s only chance in recent time to see how Tigris is actually doing. 

“Lucy Gray, I was just about to say — my shift has been postponed and we can meet earlier, of course, if you don't mind,” maybe it was a connection issue, but Tigris' voice sounded even more dry and full of melancholy. 

"Of course, I will be very glad," Lucy Gray tried to contain her glee, but it turned out not as well as she expected, but what could she do — after all, it was finally possible to talk with a normal person in this society of crazy people! 

“I'm now in the same restaurant where Philo's eighth birthday was celebrated. Well, the one with the "flying" pink donuts. I'll be waiting for you there..." 

*beep*  

This is not the first time Tigris has hung up the phone so abruptly, and Lucy Gray understood this. What she didn’t understand was Tigris’ tone — did something happen to her?

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When Lucy Gray entered and sat down at the indicated table, she did not even immediately recognize Coriolanus’s favorite cousin. 

Tigris didn't just lose weight. Her ribs were visible through her almost transparent pink dress. The hands turned into two sticks and it was completely incomprehensible how numerous silver bracelets did not fall off them. The collarbones are not collarbones, but bones over which skin has been stretched absurdly and tightly; there were hollows on her cheeks that further emphasised the surgical work on her nose, and there were circles under her eyes that she had clearly tried and failed to paint over. The famous Hunger Games stylist was sitting in front of a plate with a single tiny piece of cake, but it had not even been bitten — she just sat there, straight as a stick and looking at one point in the wall, without reacting to anything. 

“Hey honey,” Lucy Gray went to her best friend, giving her a deep, sincere hug and could feel her ribs under the bright violet coat she was wearing. Tigris, looking like she didn’t smile in a while, responded to her sister-in-law’s sign of affection with positivity only. 

“What happened to you? I didn’t recognize you in… This at first…”

Sighing, Lucy Gray looked over her deep green vest-like dress and removed the scarf from her head, revealing her loose curls, that she kept slightly longer than shoulder length for 9 years already. 

“But I’m still the same. Although dear, when was the last time you ate? Finally letting go feeling the warmth stirring in her glacier-covered soul, Lucy Gray carefully took her hands, but Tigris quickly removed them. 

“Now I can only digest sugar. I'm sorry that you stopped visiting, I just don't want to scare the kids… They don’t deserve to see a walking skeleton instead of an auntie," her voice sounded as if she had just smoked five packs of cigarettes at once and was now starting on the sixth, which made Lucy Gray even more worried.

The corners of her lips drooped as Lucy Gray tried to look for the former light in those dull eyes. But like in the case of Coriolanus, there was nothing there — although Tigris' emptiness was similar to a glass, while Coriolanus’ blue eyes were a gate to Hell itself, this is how much evil she saw in the,. 

“What happened? If anything went wrong, I can always talk, you know-“ she wasn't allowed to finish, because the blonde with thin hair hanging down the sides made the letter "X" with her hands. Lucy Gray hated being silenced, but now she realized that she needed to keep quiet. Tigris calmly began to eat the sugared piece of cake, speaking slowly and little. 

Lucy Gray decided to be more patient, and she herself wanted to tell a lot of things, although doubts were seething inside her that she could really condemn her... But then, Tigris was the first to speak up. 

“I am not here to discuss myself or my weird state, I'm here for your part of news. Fill me in — how's work, how’s the project?”

Before Lucy Gray could respond, Tigris took her hands and asked a bit more enthusiastically, when a higher tone made her sound even weirder. 

“How are the kids? Are the girls happy with my gifts? Is everything going okay with my sweethearts Jute and Basil?”

Oh dear… Once Tigris, always Tigris.

"They absolutely love their little costumes! Promised to treasure it forever and Jute said hers will go to her sister when she grows up — well, imagine her face when I tell her that soon, it wouldn’t be needed for her to share clothes! And about the work itself — the school music program is almost ready, and the children will arrive soon..." Lucy Gray tried to keep a smile on her face, even though it was difficult for her. “Work spares no one, tell me?”

“Well, that's true. It looks like I will remain forever married to a sewing machine and tons of fabrics that have piled up in my poor studio,” Tigris tried to sound funny, but it definitely was not funny for anyone else.

The women still tried to get whatever they could from this meeting, slightly (and a bit painfully) laughed together and even drank some wine. They talked about work, and about endless orders, and about managers who were already annoying her to death by always forgetting everything. 

Although Tigris spoke calmly, she still continued to hint at the hardness of the work, and no one could argue with that — her fingers were pricked up and down, and the almost black eyebags clearly weren't there without a reason. Working as a stylist at the Hunger Games, although bringing an ocean of money, was clearly not a joy for her and it wasn't even about the physical side of her work... 

Seeing such a picture, Lucy Gray tried to avoid the topic of her marriage, a thing that was always touched on during their dinners together every damn time, afraid of upsetting her dear sister in law, but seeing Tigris’ slightly annoyed face, she thought "to hell with it!" — and began to discuss her husband in a humorous and mocking manner. 

Hearing all those unflattering words about her cousin yet again, Tigris glared at Lucy Gray with big eyes and suddenly inserted words, pulling them out of her throat like a magician pulling out handkerchiefs — just as slowly and with the same unpredictability as in the circus.

“By the way... Coriolanus wrote to me. Again. In one of his thousands of messages, he said that you disappeared for a week and now he has to drag you home… Is everything still in place?” she said insinuatingly, clinking her teeth. Oh dear, seriously?

"Mr Snow, you are simply inimitable — you manage to get into people's heads when they didn't invite you at all." 

Well, there's nothing to hide here, and Lucy Gray wasn't at all ashamed — why would she? 

“Yes, something like that... Now he is forcing me to go on a family dinner this evening and the next day will definitely drag me to some stupid brunch of his.”

Silence, but from the slight change in the woman’s face, it was clear that she was angry at her cousin yet again, for causing himself more problems than bringing in solutions. Tigris sighed calmly, put her fork aside and now lightly touched her sister-in-law's hand. 

“I am very sorry about that — you know, my home is always open, you can live there…” 

Her best friend only shook her head — they already tried to pull this off and Coriolanus was angry to an insane extent.

“And forgive me for what I'm going to say now. Sorry, of course, but your cousin is a damn freak," Lucy Gray managed to blurt it out with difficulty. She kept all her problems with Coriolanus to herself, and had no one to share with her. 

"Well, you're a Snow. Rejoice!” — if she had real friends, they would definitely answer like that. But she didn't have any friends or even acquaintances — although the Capitol admired her, it was only until the moment when some stupid, invisible line was crossed. She was an exotic birdie to look at, not a human to all of them. No one would go to communicate with a "brainless animal," even if some of these animals were 15 times smarter than the Capitolians themselves — Tigris was the only one with whom she could talk and who would not at least listen to her half-heartedly or pretend to be friendly just because... for her last name. 

“...Yes I know. That he's a blockhead and a bastard," Tigris almost whispers, saying these words. Lucy Gray is not even surprised by her words, or she is simply the best actress in the world — she can even fool herself. Her best friend placed her skinny elbows, which looked more like fish bones, on the table and exhaled. Lucy Gray exhaled behind her, half closing her eyes. The sight of Tigris made her want to cry. 

Thinking about Coriolanus made her want to punch the wall. But she held her rage in. 

This meeting could not be about anything other than complaints, under a layer of which Lucy Gray tried to push through her goals and dreams, while simultaneously supporting Tigris. She even thought about writing another song. 

''A living skeleton and a bird with a broken voice” — isn’t it really that bad of a theme?"   

What a truly dreadful picture that was. At times, Lucy Gray was disgusted by her own slightly cynical thoughts. And how could she even think of calling Tigris a skeleton? It seems that these nine years were not in vain for her... 

Internally especially. Coriolanus blew out her fire and replaced her alive, beating heart with a piece of ice, with an exact one like he himself had.

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The sun long stopped shining, turning the sky orange — the evening was close and yet, no signs of Lucy Gray. 

Lounging on her large, round bed, covered with a turquoise bedspread and pink pillows in the shape of bubble gum, Philomel read the book assigned for tomorrow, while flipping through the record player and dibbling her legs; the sound there irritated her brother, but at least he had the decency to keep quiet for some time, until the nerves better better of him. Click, and a minute later, through the curtain dividing their huge room, Aster's head pops out: 

"I told you, turn off your music — I can't concentrate!”

Philo only smiled in return and theatrically put the player away.

“Stop already — you studied enough for today, what you are doing is homework that can be done in twenty minutes; and it’s not even for today, but for tomorrow!”

Aster could only roll his eyes and nodded on the 10 and more study books that covered his desk.

“There is no such thing as “done” Philo and you know that,” his sister huffed, seeing how again he overloaded himself, yet continued looking both tired and smug — his usual expression. “Also, I almost finished my stuff; give me your notebooks.”

This is what the Academy buried them with today... When Aster was little, he dreamed that as soon as he became President of Panem, he would immediately cancel all homework.

And even now, such thoughts have not gone away — this is just cruel bullying of children and complete violation of human rights! Philo shares his notebooks reluctantly — it's not very pleasant when your brother does your homework for you again, Aster didn't complain, offering his help just to lift some weight from his sister’s shoulder, whose hands were already full from her being the news broadcaster of some of the Capitol channels and also having to do both modeling and more development of her career. 

Moreover, their dad will arrive soon and how fun it will be if their homework is not done… Aster lifted the curtain dividing the room and moved his desk on wheels closer to his sister's bed. In general, most of their furniture was on wheels, so that if needed, they could move everything closer to each other — and both of them never regretted it. 

Scratching his pen on the paper and struggling with an overwhelming report about the voracious Meadow Caterpillars from District 4, Aster gritted his teeth. 

"Oh, who really cares how many leaves those creatures can eat? They ate too much, ballooned up and exploded — nice solution, right?”  

So, while having a battle of life and death on pages of the math book, Aster turned his head towards Philo and called out for her.

“Hey.”

“What?” Philomel meanwhile grabbed a book, opened it and fell on the bed with pages on her face. 

"Did you ask the cook not to cook blackberry pie today?" he muttered to his sister, looking up from his studies again. 

These words weighed heavily on both kids. What is this already, the seventh time in a row? For the seventh time, their mother could not come again…Philo did not answer right away, but it was already clear that she was simply pretending to read a book, and she seemed to be looking through the black letters. 

“...You know, maybe it's not necessary today? What if mom was genuine at least now?” the girl bowed her head, burying her nose in her own wavy strands, which so funny reflected the rare rays of the sun. 

Aster stuck out his lower lip and looked at his sister with a piercing gaze with narrowed eyes. 

Such pure naivety. Without saying anything, he took out his own player and from there, at almost full volume, a beautiful, young, clear voice poured out:

Down in the valley, the valley so low,   

Late in the evening, hear the train blow.  

The train, love, hear the train blow,   

Late in the evening, hear the train blow.  

Go build me a mansion, build it so high,   

So I can see my true love go by.   

See him go by, love, see him go by,  

So I can see my true love go by.  

"At least let her be home like this. Who knows, maybe from the other end of the Capitol, ma will hear it and come running here to turn it off?” Aster tried to make jokes, but nothing came of it.

All he could do was smile slightly, hold his hand on Philomel's shoulder and quietly listen to the almost magical songs of his mother. The children were pulled out of their dream world and seemed to be thrown into icy water with endless lessons. None of them wanted to do it, but they still did. Necessary. It's necessary. Barely restraining himself, Aster spun around in his chair and took out a glass vial from a drawer on his desk. Seeing this liquid for more than the first time, Philomel closed her eyes and winced as young Snow opened his mouth and dribbled two drops onto his outstretched tongue. 

At the same moment, the pupils of his dark eyes shrank and his left little finger began to tremble. The boy’s tongue was already long purple, being very close to turning full blue, as he breathed in and out.

At least for a second, he could feel good…

“Aster? Philomel!” a knock on the door was heard and the kids hurried to hide anything that might look like a mess — it was their father. 

“Damn it!” Aster hit his fist at the table; just why his dad couldn’t come a couple of minutes later, when the most obvious effects will wear off? 

“Kids, I’m asking you to just get ready,” a commanding voice was heard behind the closed doors, which immediately forced Aster and Philomel to quit whatever they were doing, pulling the curtain back again and hurrying up to dress; no repetition, no asking questions — truly a Snow family attitude. “Dinner will be ready in an hour, I expect you two at the dining room no later than that.”

Philo, in the process of getting rid of her white choker, decorated with an artificial rose in the middle, lowered her head in slight sadness. 

“Dinner. Right.”

Chapter Text

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“Look what the cat dragged in!” Coriolanus declared, standing still in the living room, observing  a portrait of Lucy Gray, who was in a stunning purple dress and wore an elegant set of pearl beads around her neck,  actually looking like a true lady of the Capitol, he continued to pretend as if nothing special had happened, when her blue car pulled up in the presidential palace’s garage, while he himself had no idea how to properly handle his hands, that were trembling from both fear and light excitement. 

Lucy Gray’s arrival was a deep surprise for his children — Coriolanus even heard Philo whisper into Aster’s ear, when the little foolish child thought no one could hear her: “And now you know, as this is the 100th time that I was right — you owe me ten bucks for that, you lost your bet,” she was giggling, while Aster did not look as convinced in his mother’s pure intentions as the precious daughter of the Snow family was.

"I told you, ma will only come back to us to not hear her songs," Aster spoke with a huge layer of sarcasm in his voice, but in his heart he was glad of his mother's arrival, even if he didn’t show it or greet Lucy Gray with a big “Welcome back home finally!” banner in his hands. 

"Now I'll know what works — let's try next time, you do a nice one for your sister, right?" Philomel's smile just refused to disappear, even with the constant sulking expression of her brother, whose arm she tackled on and tried to cheer him up for today’s dinner, as Aster was sure — there will be a fight tonight. A flame is always staring up when the Snow family is coming together and it is unavoidable.

None of the kids still physically saw their mother, as she was brought to the living room, where the president himself was present, waiting to get his songbird back. 

“I hope you had a damn terrible day if you just had to summon me here,” Lucy Gray attacked first, while satisfyingly observing the fact that she and Coriolanus were contrasting with their outfits as most of times in those years of this impoverished separation — while she was dressed head to toe in deep green, he refused to separate from his favorite sets of red suits, one of which he was currently wearing. 

She was brash and confident in her manner of speech, walking with her head high. As always, Coriolanus quietly took her hand and kissed it, acting like it was not him who forced his wife into coming back, almost holding her projects on a gunpoint if she didn’t listen. 

Carefully picking up the lower piece of her headscarf, Lucy Gray finally pulled it from her hair, as her curls, now even more messy than during her definitely uncomfortable dinner with Tigris, fell down her shoulders; a move that made his smile slightly bigger — he tried touching one of her locks, but she immediately pulled away.

Alright, if she wants, so be it — two can play this game. 

“Well, this terribly boring day just became much better,” Snow, looking straight into her burning, dark eyes, didn't try to gloat over his superiority or look too meek compared to his Lucy Gray. She was here and that’s a win to him — this is what matters. 

The woman could only smile, but the smile looked more like a grin of a wounded predator animal, as she moved her head to the side and purposefully looked at Coriolanus this way, as if she was rolling her eyes.

“If only you knew how much I wish to spit in your precious face right now,” she murmured, with the president looking unmoved by her insult. It was not the first and definitely wouldn’t be the last time when she tried to fight him — although anyone with a functional brain could understand where those arguments would lead to every time.  

He tried to take her hand again, with Lucy Gray throwing it off — she was too rough and fast yet again, a move that brought scorn on Snow’s face. Coriolanus took his darling’s chin, bringing her closer to his face, trying to hide his deeply offended look with always naturally puffing up lips behind a mask made out of pure ice.

Then, she yet again glared at a portrait that she always hated — this one was ordered by Coriolanus without her consent, she didn’t even pose for it or wore the dress depicted on the picture in her entire life. And when it was hung on the wall, in spite of the woman’s heavy protests, he refused to take it down. What especially annoyed her was the bloody red roses that she was drawn holding, as Lucy Gray promised herself 9 years ago: never pose with a rose in hand. 

“I fail to understand, why do you need me here, when you have a perfect fantasy hanging on the wall every day. Oh, and it also stays still, never leaving this jail of a palace,” her angry expression began to slowly turn into a sickly sweet smile. 

Snow pursed his lips but only ignored his comment, taking her by the shoulder, receiving small hisses in response — and who is the snake out of them two now?

“One night, Lucy Gray. Am I asking for way too much — is it that hard to properly behave yourself?” 

“No doubt you are,” Lucy Gray smirked, all while counting inside her head to ten, all to not be petty and start singing “The Ballad of Lucy Gray” right in her jealous husband’s face — all to have a laugh out in a situation that couldn’t be called any less than purely humiliating. 

Yet again, she is a trembling prey, hiding and praying for her life, and he is a predator with blood all over his face, slowly moving towards her to snap her neck in half — this is the position Coriolanus Snow had used to be in, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of victory, of even a bit of a belief that she will ever dance to 

Coriolanus did not like her answer, nor liked her smug, self-righteous look, so moved her even closer, almost talking right in her neck. 

“I am begging you to listen — do it for the children, my songbird. And then go play around with your dolls however you want,” usually, when the president was making threats, he did not repeat himself, speaking through a wall of ice, with the voice hard as a stone. But with Lucy Gray nearby, all he wanted was to feel and then take her again, to her place, where she belonged — also known as the only place fit for her; it was not in his plans to make her angry, although many times she was leaving him without a choice.

Lucy Gray might have been truly angry, but she also wasn’t stupid — after all, she was absent for almost a week and could feel both his agitation and the beginning of his hunger: when Coriolanus is in this state, every normal person knows to stay out of his way… And she was not one of the normal people. 

She, relaxing her smirk, slightly kissed the top of his knuckles with a very quick fondle of her lips, barely touching his snow-white skin and looked up — her shining, deep eyes were sparkling with cold threat, all while a smile became more and more friendly. But Coriolanus spent almost half of his life by her side to see through those little tricks of hers.

“Although I would have really preferred if once in a lifetime, you would kiss my hand first — it is truly exhausting to always be the one making the first move,” thought the president, as Lucy Gray was almost whispering in that kind of voice, that almost asking him to just throw her on the bed and lay with her there, cuddling with each other for so long, that it usually felt like forever. 

Indeed, Coriolanus missed his own deserved bit of warmth that only this tiny body and voice of an angel could possibly provide. 

Enough is enough after all… At least for now.  

“You are really testing the waters here, Lucy Gray,” taking her by the hand and leaving the room together, like a model high society couple should, he almost scowled at her green dress, much to the woman’s delight — it is always good when your husband notices the effort when you attempt to impress him. 

“Sweetheart, I have been doing this for a fairly long time, I'm surprised it took you so long to notice,” a huge smile returned on her face as her voice was sounding more and more melodic. 

Coriolanus only slightly rolled his eyes at the comment, almost pushing his boiling annoyances down and locking them in an iron safe, just so it wouldn’t come out again during the wrong moment. He was used to this and at least now, he was holding the arm of his Lucy Gray, refusing to let go or even separate for a second, which clearly brought out her own inner demon, who she also tried to keep under control. 

“Would you like to change? I’m sure you are tired after 7 full days of full absence from home,” he said with a poorly masked pique in his voice, fixing his black tie that was dangling from his neck, embellishing the well-made, deep red shirt of his, as he held Lucy Gray’s arm with a dangerously tight grip.

She turned towards him, with her smirk reflecting from his bright blue eyes — slightly laughing, the free bird shook her head, while continuing to walk as if nothing changed.

“I think I am good with this one — did you really think I wasn’t wearing anything other than this dress for the entire week? You surely have a low opinion on me.”

His Lucy Gray, never changing — as always being a thorn in one’s flesh.

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“Welcome back, ma,” Aster was quiet in his greeting, not even planning to go to Lucy Gray first, but was basically pushed in Lucy Gray’s arms by his concerned sister, who was way preoccupied with shooing away any moodiness that was wrapping around Aster like a python, preparing to swallow him whole. 

Lucy Gray, observing her son, who already outgrown her height with a weak, but still kissed him in the cheek two times — this was surely awkward, as if she hasn't vanished from the presidential palace, with minimal contact to even her own kids. This did not make her happy at all, but she knew that she was in right and that Coriolanus had to be taught a lesson.

“Good evening. Sorry for bothering, but can you do one thing for me, please?” Aster spoke quietly, as always losing his brashness and cockiness when Lucy Gray was nearby. “…Ma, tell me you didn’t bring any nice news to share with dad at today's dinner, can at least one of them turn out normally? Well, I mean sorry,” he coughed, trying to stand still.

His mother only smiled back at him, ruffling his hair, as a sulky expression and slightly puffed up lips returned on Aster’s face, making his light freckles even more visible. 

“Only good news for you both and bad for your dad — but you know him, he hates just about everything,” Lucy Gray, thinking about her project, started to form a more genuine smile — Philo was happy about this, and she hoped Aster could be too; the company of those simple kids, much different from the Capitol brats, can be very good for them. “And yes, I promise you, honey; no fighting during the dinner, I can guarantee at least that.”

Aster swallowed, lowering his head — lies; it was always a flip of a coin, either his mother or his father would lose their cool first, but the fight during the family dinner was inevitable. As soon as the Snow family came together, the walls of the gorgeous mansion would turn into an Arena — and Cyril dared to ask him multiple times why he hated the Hunger Games so much, deeming them to be a waste of time and citizens’ tax money?

Still, Lucy Gray genuinely and strongly hugged both him and a passing Philo, who seemed to be just beaming with excitement seeing all of her family together again. Kids, right? Even the fact that his mother’s hugs were full of true, raw and beautiful love, did not return a smile on Aster’s face; he needed those beautiful hugs a couple of years ago, when he foolishly thought that his mess of a family was normal and then when discovering that its not, that it was fixable. 

“I’m used to that, but at least stop lying to yourselves — it’s unfair,” Aster pouted, watching his father to take a seat at the head of the table — signing with a move of his head, he invited Lucy Gray to sit at the sit from the left, right next to him, but the First Lady of Panem, acting like Coriolanus didn’t exist, sat at the other side of the table. Also at the head of it, just another side. Meanwhile, Aster and Philo settled in the middle simply praying inside, as they both looked like scared wet chickens on the outside. 

Coriolanus, pushing aside his pride yet again, rang the bell, signaling the beginning of the dinner — unlike the other elite or noble families of the Capitol, the Snow family did not have many servants (which was a personal demand of Lucy Gray, as the whole concept of Avoxes was disgusting to her. But Coriolanus also refused to have regular people in service — too much secrets of the presidential life could pour out with lousy mouths all around, so they had to find a compromise) and as soon as one of the Avoxes put a champagne glass in front of Lucy Gray, she immediately emptied it without even taking a bite.

“It is going to be a long, long evening…” Aster dreaded the very thought of it, but nothing could have already been done, Lucy Gray was already there. 

Even looking slightly messy, her almost predatory smile and the looks she was sending Coriolanus death glares made her the center of attention, as always — this woman was a performer to the core and right now, was doing what she could do the best; perform, as if her whole life in the Capitol was nothing but a big performance she kept up for almost 15 years. 

The President, however, also did not plan on losing the game that early, so he just continued slightly sipping the served red wine, trying to make small talk with his children and inside, hoping to push his darling in the same direction, so she’ll participate. When it was time for the dishes, no muscle of his face moved, as his eyes fell on the fish that was put in front of Lucy Gray.

“You brought it on yourself, so don’t blame me,” he thought, having no idea should he enjoy her discomfort or be unhappy that even in the situation that was 1000% under his iron fist, the stubborn Lucy Gray still refused to give in and do what he would have preferred her to do. It was not a punishment equally cruel to what he would have given his disobedient subordinates; just a simple reminder to hold her attitude in check, nothing serious. 

Eating the first bits of the fish, the lady’s face turned sour, then to anger and Lucy Gray almost instinctively moved the plate away, luckily managing to hold herself together — she should not give Snow the satisfaction of winning, he already saw her tears way too much. Now, he wouldn’t even see that. 

The unremoved gallbladder’s bitter taste was ruining the whole dinner, all while Coriolanus did not ever react to anything, as Lucy Gray continued to drill into him with her eyes — making a scene would only mean ruining her performance, so she forced herself to sit still. “Not in front of the children,” this is the thing her dear husband told her and yet he is the one starting up the fire? 

But, despite all of the possible efforts Coriolanus went through to get a response of his desire out of his little darling, the dinner table continued to be quiet. Lucy Gray, keeping a straight face, was trying to stretch out the moment — despite being crazily hungry, no way is she actually touching that fish. Aster also couldn’t dare to speak up, as his head was lowered throughout the dinner — the “energy stimulation medicine” Demitol that he took right before this also just began getting through his blood and he desperately kept his hands on his trembling knees, afraid that even the slightest sound of chattering teeth could give him away. 

Philomel, stretching out a smile so much that her cheeks were hurting, again did whatever she could, as always working to 200% in her ways of “bringing the family back together”, trying to make small talk with all of them — but even her best efforts, like a thin layer of paint, could not cover a giant blown up hole in the wall which was the giveaway that it was clearly not the reunion Coriolanus had planned for his family.

And he was unhappy about this. 

"What are you even doing to this poor thing, eat normally," randomly, Coriolanus pointed with a fork at the fish, which had turned into messy muddle, thanks to her constant pushing and mashing it with a fork — for a second, Snow could swear that he saw her face burning with pure anger, but it vanished as quickly as appeared. Way too quickly. Meanwhile, he was not planning to back down — this was his game after all.

“Would you like some help?” She thought she heard mockery in his voice, so Lucy Gray placed her middle finger next to the plate, all the while wanting to stick those gutted fish bones into his eye. 

“Oppressor,” Lucy Gray began to think, clenching her other fist, while trying to remain calm and proud.

Coriolanus did not appreciate the gesture and the married couple began shooting deadly daggers at one another, as if trying to burn a hole in each of their heads. 

“You always chose the wrong person to insult, Coriolanus — and unlucky for you, I am not in the mood to play the games you always invent when you think I am completely at your mercy,” a couple of short breaths, a head turn and a lovely smile that she gave to her kids, completely ignoring her once “pretty and preppy Capitol boy” and the heart of Lucy Gray started beating calmly yet again. 

Snow clacked with his teeth, when the visible anger in Lucy Gray’s eyes yet again changed to piercing cold… indifference. And that hurt, hurt more than anyone could have imagined.

How dare she. How dare she look so calm and unbothered, all while he was tearing himself apart from not seeing her sweet smile or hearing her pretty voice around the palace — even the smell of sugar started disappearing much faster than he could have controlled it. 

His reaction was exactly what Lucy Gray wanted to see — he might be a master at masking his emotions in front of the whole world, but to the songbird, all his emotions were as good as naked; nothing could get past her bright eyes and boy did it was clear that she struck a nerve. 

Coriolanus did this first. She couldn’t leave the place, as if the woman was bound to the table. So, this was her only way of getting back to him. 

He's always like that... Never misses a chance to make fun of her, or luck broken, he will feel that his precious persona is not the center of her attention! But now, they were both powerless and it clearly angered him. 

Finally, Lucy Gray saw the desired result — Coriolanus' eye began to fully twitch slightly from her proud, cruel gaze and straight raised head. ‘I think you've had enough,’ the woman’s small smile came back onto her face and she tapped her glass, getting her family's attention. After many years of marriage, Coriolanus understood what this gesture meant — now she was ready to drop some "fantastic" news on their heads.

He couldn't stop her — that woman always plays by her own rules and it was pointless to hope that she would ever stop. 

After sitting the whole dinner quieter than a District rebel, Aster, finally snapping out of his murky state, turned to Philomel and whispered, inside wishing that this nightmare of a dinner will just be over, he couldn’t take this anymore. 

“Are we done for, Philo?”

“Just be patient, Aster — there is nothing we can do,” she said those words as if someone was choking her and could only lower her head, after her cheeks were already hurting too much from the endless smiling she gave, but even this couldn’t melt the ice inside the room. 

In silence, Philomel took her brother’s hand and gave a barely noticeable nod, with her genuine, shining eyes telling much more to Aster than any of her smilies, that could have fooled anyone, even her father: “the smartest man in the world”, but not him, whose heart was connected the girl since she came into this world a year after his own birth. 

“Waited and waited so much for you to return and now it’s clear you only wanted to make dad angry, and also share her news… This better be that one secret she kept away from me for way longer than I deserved,” Aster, keeping an obedient look, carefully looked at Lucy Gray, who, realizing that she has her family’s full attention, can finally say what was boggling her mind. 

"I have news for everyone, especially for you, children," with these words, the woman turned to her brother and sister, who pricked up their ears. 

Philomel immediately felt from her mother's tone that those news were pleasant for her, but would most likely disappoint the rest of the family. Therefore, the girl consciously prepared to defend no matter what, but what her mother would say — all for the sake of peace at the family table. 

And as it turned out, her worries were not in vain. 

"As you know, my project is now going uphill and I am at the final stage of one of its stages," Lucy Gray tried to speak calmly, as if nothing special was happening right now. “So, in three days, the 12 best students of my program, children from the Districts, will enter your Academy — I ask you to take care of them, treat them well and help to adjust to the new environment. Can you pull it off?” 

This was the part where Lucy Gray could drop her microphone on stage and bow out, enjoying the show. The faces of both Coriolanus and Aster were difficult to describe in words, and the boy seemed ready to spit out all the soup he had just eaten. Who was coming to the Capitol again?

“Ma, are you kidding me?” Were the first words that came to Aster's mind. Only a grimace of disgust was visible on his face, as if he had just picked up a dead rat, and not just learned about new classmates. Meanwhile, Philo buried her face in her endless waves of golden locks, as she really wanted to hide her blissful expression of true excitement that was about to come. 

"What's with your face, Ter, it’s a good thing,” she whispered to him with a first genuine smile for the entire time she was seated at this cursed table. 

"That won't happen, Lucy Gray. Our children are not nannies for your wretched ones — once they come to the Capitol, they can handle themselves, without any embarrassment to Aster and Philo," Coriolanus felt how tired he was, repeating twenty times a day that he would not tolerate any trash near his children. He barely convinced himself that this would not be an idea he is going to trample to the ground and now this?    

But Lucy Gray had no intention of listening to him. The only actual problem was Aster who clearly looked unhappy about the news and Philomel gave him a concerned, serious look as he fortunately was able to hold back the endless stream of sewage that was on his mind, that he was already ready to start spewing towards all those innocent students he didn't even know yet.

Therefore, simply biting both inner cheeks, Aster squeezed his sister's hand even tighter without saying anything. 

“Everything is okay. You can't complain in front of your mother, you can't. There's a room for that…” Philomel really didn't understand her brother's reaction. She, as a participant in the organization of this program (even if the participation was purely nominal, Philo already saw a lot, much more than the average Capitol child her age) had high hopes for the idea, but most importantly she liked all the kids and teens her mother selected. 

They were so... normal, calm, and in their eyes there was a fire and genuine desire to create. It was not at all like what Philomel was used to associating the word "winner" with, because the children from the Hunger Games, bearing identical titles, looked completely different after their so-called victories — tired, beaten, skinny… Two kids during her interviews looked almost on the brink of insanity. 

Broken, “crazy” children and “The Rainbow Children of Lucy Gray” — that's what the creator of the program called them. The president’s daughter adored the nickname, as her mother herself seemed to be a rainbow. 

"Please be patient with them," Lucy Gray said the word "please" with special emphasis, but these words were more likely addressed to Coriolanus than to her children. 

“Yes, ma, of course…” The barely audible male voice was completely overlapped by a poorly covered exclaim of Philo, who quickly caught a stern look from Coriolanus for this. The girl, as if not noticing the slight unhappiness in her father’s eyes, smiled at him yet again, hitting Aster’s elbow in the process to encourage him to do the same. 

“Philo. Shhh.”

“Don’t you shush me — we almost avoided a blowup. You know dad is not the biggest supporter of this idea, but he is holding up — our job here is to do the same,” slightly nodding and stretching out the right corner of her mouth, Philomel managed to quiet Aster down.

Lucy Gray, nodding in sync with her daughter seeing the silence at the table, quietly sipped her drink, enjoying her small victory — the woman knew that Coriolanus will later find a way to get back at her, to make her pay double for such “humiliation” — but for now she wanted to dream, to actually believe that what she was doing mattered, truly.

“Aster and Philo are smart. I don't doubt them — after all, inside they have the Districts’ blood of freedom running in their veins…”  

And yes, it was true that Coriolanus felt offended. His pride, like the pride of any true Capitol born, was shaken at the mere thought of his children being glorified tour guides for some immigrant Districts wretches. 

Also what to do if his songbird decides that her “students” like the Gem of Panem so much and say that they deserve to stay here like citizens? 

Oh no, never. Three (now two, how sad) District people were enough for this place. Since Lucy Gray began moving forward with her projects, it raised some concerns — as he only accepted a certain limit of providing help and nothing more than that. 

Being higher class at their own trash land, symbolizing the immense generosity of the Capitol that was provided to them — acceptable.

…Same people with the same privileges, only now being considered official, legal citizens in the Capitol’s territory — that will never happen as long as he is still breathing.

“Oh Lucy Gray. My woman is truly impossible to set straight sometimes,” he, having plans to get back at his precious wife after the dinner and not wanting to be the one who rocked the family boat, silently emptied the glass of wine, not stopping looking the songbird straight in her dark eyes.

Obviously, he did not feel offended or hurt — just a mild annoyance that Lucy Gray was exactly the same. “Snow cannot set the fire up, only put an end to its bright but short life” — once, she was that fire, but every day Coriolanus noticed that his shining bird was losing that warmth and brightness, more and more resembling… him. 

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Without even waiting until the end of the dinner, Lucy Gray excused herself, not crossing eyes with Coriolanus at least one time. This could have been considered a draw, if only the president did not think of himself as defeated, looking at the now empty chair at the other side of the table.  

So, after eating in complete silence, the children of Snow family found themselves inside the living room cramped on a sofa, looking impatient. Aster kept brushing his hair towards the ear, as his leg was now shaking worse than before.

“I fail to understand why it is such a big deal to you, Ter. Isn’t it a good thing that the Districts finally can get equal opportunities?” Philomel tried to talk, but it looked like Aster completely ignored those wise words, digging his head more into two palms.

“Would be much better if ma did not live in a fantasy world,” her brother said, finally turning to his sister with the same expression that his father was relentlessly (and silently) mocked for by his songbird. “We can’t be equal, Philo — we are the Capitol, the top of the food chain. We rule and they obey; do you know what can happen to us if those types of projects become a norm?” 

On this, Philomel only sighed, trying way too hard to not raise her voice — after all, that was Aster and he was hurt. 

“It’s none of my business… But wouldn’t a proper union be better than exploitation?” Obviously, as Philo still considered herself to be sane, she did not say all of her thoughts out loud. 

“This is not our battle — we were tasked with handling the Academy affairs, remember what mom told us?” Philo slightly smiled, taking her sibling’s hands and holding it close to herself. Aster did not throw them away, but also did not respond with at least a fake smile.

“Certainly. Doesn’t change the fact I don’t like it,” he first scoffed then chuckled, only this chuckle felt both cold and dry for his loving, innocent sister. 

“One day Philo will understand — as dad told me, the Snow must sacrifice. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.”  

The door then opened and both children immediately stopped their chat and turned their heads — not Lucy Gray, but Coriolanus; as always colder than ice, with his noble posture and bright, burning eyes. 

Aster gritted his teeth, trying to keep away all the movements that might give out that he is using energy substances — obviously, no one except Philo should know. The girl, moving away her honey-coloured curls, was the first one to get up and greet her dad, who soon after sat on the same sofa as his children. 

“Is mom leaving now after the dinner?” 

”After the fiasco,” Philo slightly lowered her eyes, as she herself preferred to not think about it — having the family together should be a priority after all… 

Coriolanus quickly raised his hand to the air, quieting his daughter down and then put each of his hands on Aster’s and Philomel’s shoulders. 

“Don’t think about this too much — nobody is leaving and without a doubt not today,” the man even tried to put up a smile, which later turned genuine; it always did when the president was looking at his two gifts from above. 

“Thank you, dad. But do not overload yourself, one is worrying — I can deal with it all,” Aster coughed, completely giving up an attempt to smile, which day to day kept amusing Coriolanus. This kid needs better cover up, but he can be close to perfection if he actually tries one sunny day.

Philo hugged her dad back, hoping that this will distract him for long enough to not ask or talk about the District kids coming. 

Unfortunately, not her dad or even her brother who she loved the most were on her side in this case, so Miss Snow had the task of pleasing both sides of this conflict. 

Well, as if the unlucky Philomel ever had control of this situation — the position of power in this family was with her father and her bright as a rainbow mother. Her and Aster barely had a voice in this regard, so what they could do was to make sure the rocking boat does not get completely turned over and the whole Snow family not end up in cold water.

“I can talk with your mother so you two will be free from this “mentorship” she wants you to participate in. Alright?”

The president’s stomach slightly turned not only from the thought of his bright kids to be turned into glorified babysitters for some District low-born, a simple word “mentorship” brought a lot of thoughts from the deeper parts of his brain to the surface. 

Days when he and Lucy Gray met. 

Much, much simpler times — when the Arena was more of a home to them, his Lucy Gray was full of life and color unlike now, where she was becoming more like her name each day she moved away from him. And he himself also had much more innocence in those times, where the blood of Sejanus Plinth was not on his hands — oh, and he also had much more hair on his head. 

On this question, Philomel froze. No way is she giving up the opportunity to be close to at least some normal friends, especially Doris, just because of a stupid prejudice.

“Also, wasn’t mom’s idea in uniting the cultures? If both me and Ter say no, the project can be considered dead from the start…”  

Then, to her father’s surprise, Philo made her presence noticeable and said confidently, with a signature big smile on her face:

“Actually, I would prefer if I could keep this task for myself. Don’t worry much dad, I’ll manage it — I met those guys a couple of times, they would not be of any bother if they have a familiar face by their side.”  

Lies. She talked with them for much more and much longer than she led any outside soul believe — but this is a secret of the little miss and her mother, so no one else should really know about it.

Aster shot a glare in his sister’s direction, swallowing an upcoming: “Idiot…”  

Coriolanus was more self-contained in this regard, although his disappointment, even if short-lived, was evident. Philo also noticed it and slightly coughed, as her voice became a bit more quiet. Aster held her hand, not speaking up for support and this silence continued for quite some time, until their father breathed in and managed to find the right words.  

“And why? Did you forget the lessons I taught you about the need to balance things out?” 

The president, although sounding harsh in his tone, still kept Philo’s and Aster’s hands in his, all to demonstrate at least a bit of affection. 

“It’s enough that his kids have to walk on eggshells outside their house, so let those walls be a calming presence for them.”   

“I…” the little miss coughed on her words, but decided to continue. “This is mom’s project after all — I want to make her happy, as well as give the Snow family a nice shot with the public. We will get a good rep with the Districts if they support such charitable cases…” 

Coriolanus quickly saw that his little butterfly was lying on something, but she was talking with such purity, such genuine drive that he didn’t have the energy to defy a child's dreams, even if he knew that the Districts and the Capitol could, should never be equal. 

"We do not need good publicity from the Districts. The Districts need to watch themselves and not anger us. Or else, the Capitol might find a new Thirteen to wipe off the face of the Earth if they cross the line.”  

He did not say that out loud. One look at his heir’s eyes was enough to know that Aster is on his side and that what mattered. He needs to know what is actually going on in this world, to be prepared for a torch to be passed down to him. 

Philo can at least be allowed to have some fun running around — her pure heart would certainly be a huge loss for the Capitol when it will be finally time to grow up…

“You are a good child, butterfly,” Coriolanus smiled at his daughter and kissed her on the cheek. As he slightly looked away from his smiling child, the President noticed a part of the green top in the glass door of the living room. 

There she was; standing in the corridor and smirking proudly — the kids probably didn’t notice Lucy Gray, who had clearly overheard their entire conversation. 

“Are you happy, Lucy Gray? You do enjoy turning everything I have against me, don’t you?”  

His songbird did not respond or opened the door. The woman only slightly tilted her head to the side and kept her smile — but this smile instead of warmth and passionate fire was radiating coldness, indifference. And for Coriolanus, who forced her hand into returning “home”, this was way worse than the strongest slap imaginable.

“Yes. I am happy,” Snow almost thought he saw Lucy Gray’s lips move, saying this in silence. 

Then, one last glimpse of flowing hair and then even her head had disappeared, leaving them alone yet again. Well… Looks like she is already used to their family of four turning into the “family of three” in those last 9 years. Only she forgot to ask was Coriolanus happy with such an arrangement?

And oh, was he not. Coriolanus Snow wanted his songbird, his family back — that way it could only mean that he will be getting them back, whether any of them like it or not. 

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The next day, everyone who was listed as a part of the Capitol Central Council were gathered in the meeting part of the presidential palace — during those important meetings, the connection was shut down and the current president’s family was denied access to this part of the “Left Wing Building”.

Coriolanus himself was not the biggest fan of this tradition, after all, Aster had to study and prepare for his own position as a president in the future, but because of the delicacy of some themes that were no doubt expected to be resolved in this (pretty urgent) meeting, even his family had to be moved away from this. 

Waiting for everyone to take up their seats, none of the Council members knew that the president was looking at them through a one-sided, soundproof glass. 

“You may be called a council, but truth to be told, I am only keeping most of this circus entertained so no one will even think of calling the rule of Snow a tyrannical one,” Coriolanus scoffed, looking at a “recently” empty chair from the faraway left. 

Right, was it even possible to forget — the funeral for minister Porcius, who left this world due to an unfortunate accident that happened only a week ago was definitely a grand event, perhaps way too grand for someone as useless as that man.

“And quite a tacky one — that event also ate a lump sum of my money,” to cut it down simply, the money he was talking about was a blood drop in the ocean — but president Snow wasn’t known to be extremely pedantic and only doing things if it benefitted him, the Capitol or his family for nothing.

This was also the goal in this meeting — to convince the pigs desperately clinging to their positions to not go against his ideas. The words of the  president in Panem were law, while those irritating people in his way were a safety net that, if kept happy, would act as both a shield and support.

As he entered the cabinet, everyone who just settled in their chairs respectfully got up. Most of the people inside this room were sometimes twice the age of the 34-year-old President, but Coriolanus never felt intimidated by them.

Since he hosted the very first Council meeting in this exact place, the “young” ruler was determined to prove to even those who supported his candidacy for president, especially his biggest supporters, like the Crane and Creed families, as well as his former classmates who made some notable achievements in the Hunger Games sphere, that he was worthy to be listened to and not there to be played over or joke around.

Festus, who by this time continued to obediently do his duties as a head Gamemaker, slightly smirked at Coriolanus, lowering his head in respect to him. 

The president scanned the room, looking for similar signs — the ones who also lowered their heads were Mr and Mrs Crane, along with their oldest son, Festus’ father, Mr Moss. Mrs Monty, who was the speaking face of the family instead of her business buried husband, Mr Dovecote, whose only daughter was still kept from the wide public years after the horror that was the 10th Hunger Games. 

And then there were four ministers who did not have the brightest familiar connections, but brighter brains to make up for it, although their impact almost had no impact on Coriolanus’ perception. 

“Those ones can be called and considered expandable by other politicians of my position,” was the only opinion Coriolanus had for them, but at this point any possible support was useful to him, and this gave him an advantage that others were too foolish to see. 

The rest of the Council members were polite and held their president in extremely high regard, but also were heavily wary of him, on the brink of being afraid, intimidated. After all, all these “vanished” heads of different political parties nine years ago were a sufficient enough warning. 

Snow was honestly satisfied with the current way his people are doing their jobs — united under the Capitol flag, united by hatred of the Districts, seeing them as nothing more than extra working arms; all of that was effectively keeping their minds busy and working towards making Capitol a better place. 

“Glad to see you all here today,” Coriolanus coughed and 15 pairs of eyes quickly shifted to him, as he spoke calmly and without any extra movements, holding a posture similar to a statue. “Ladies, gentlemen, I hope we all remember why we decided to hold this meeting.”

He allowed himself a light smile before taking out all the necessary papers, looking into the eyes of each of his people, holding his gaze on someone’s face every now and then, as no muscle on his face moved the entire time. 

Coriolanus’ mind was yet again invaded by the thoughts about Lucy Gray, who then was promptly shooed away by him. The president wanted her to regret the way she humiliated him at the dinner yesterday and how she treated him this entire time — if she loves those rascals so much, then she might’ve as well enjoy watching them working for the Capitol’s benefit.  

“You, my Lucy Gray, wanted to do “good” by implementing this project — sadly for us, too much good for the Districts can make them think we became soft, they can attack us again… Now, I need to save us, so that we can't get caught up in another war. Not today, not ever — I don’t even care that you get angry at me, later you will say ‘thank you’.”  

One loud clap from the head of the table and the meeting between the most notable figures in the Central Capitol has begun.

Chapter Text

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What is power?   

When you get it, how do you keep it?   

The answer to this will be always simple and only one possible to exist — to be on top, you must have someone in the bottom to lean on, someone to control.  

What is society in real life? Social structures are pyramids, where the elite has its own elite and the low ones have to be put against each other, all to separate them in more and less fortunate right inside the layers of the lowest.   

Even the low like to think of themselves as high and the main goal is to never break that illusion, keeping it for as long as possible.  

Distract. Break their spirit. Make them obey. 

This was one of the mantras President Snow lived by and what gave him confidence that he was doing everything right. 

“Put them in a house of glass, where the walls are covered in mirrors and let them look at one another, taking out every bit of their inner darkness when none of them have any enemies besides each other,” Coriolanus leaned his cheek onto the laying fist on the table, calmly observing his listeners and waiting for the perfect time to start talking. “This way, not one soul would dare to go against the Capitol, after all we have done for the Districts. Now, it is finally time to be properly grateful.”  

It was clear that not everyone in this room was way too happy being forced in a place most of them would prefer to avoid, all to listen about a project that was looking like true upcoming wrath for the Capitol. 

Now, the president’s goal was to convince the dumb masses that no, he did not hit his head against the wall or gone insane thanks to the love for his wife. And the faster they will understand him, the better and shorter debates are waiting for this cabinet of supposedly most powerful people of all Panem.

Obviously, it wasn’t true — there was only one person with power here and he would like to keep it that way.

He, as if testing the audacity of those around him, see if they allow themselves to talk before him; during a meeting, Mr Dolittle did such a thing — next day one of his offices was “conveniently” searched. 

No one dared to do it now.

“Supposedly, I hope you understand that anything said in this room is strictly confidential — and that you know why I gathered you here today, for what reason. Right?”

A collective and silent nod from all of the members was enough for him. With this, the discussion was opened. Poor Clemensia’s father raised his hand and Coriolanus respectively nodded, giving the man his voice.

“As I gathered from my connections, the most notable families of District 1 and 2, especially the mayors are both vocally and financially supporting the Lady’s project,” on this, Dovecote received another nod and some snotty looks from the rest of the council, those were the ones who refused to see the bigger picture.

Obviously, the opinions of those animalistic people were nothing for the Capitol elite, but in this case, Coriolanus was on board with seeking support in District 1 or especially District 2: the loyal and the good ones.

“Having a backup just in case is always a good idea — thanks to this, as those people can serve as an example on what potential glory awaits them,” the president supported Dovecote’s report and Festus’ smile became slightly more noticeable, as he noticed on how the others looked visibly uncomfortable after those supposedly amazing news.

Next one to raise her hand to be allowed to talk was Agathe Haines, The Minister of Education — Coriolanus despised that woman to the core for her lousy mouth, still having no idea what was bigger: her questionable at best word dictionary, or those ridiculously puffy lips, always colored with either silver or golden lipstick. 

If her father was not one of the key figures in the Capitol's economy, she would’ve been out of her seat a long time ago, failing to even feed worms with a body as rotten as hers. 

“President Snow, with all due respect. After all my hour long talks with the Lady, with the way I, by my job was supposed to be connected with this whole ordeal, I still fail to see what the Capitol will gain from bringing the filth in our sacred city,” Agathe talked with caution, but this made her Capitolite accent even more ear-scratching than if she talked like a normal human being.

“Oh dear — have mercy on me,” the president was clearly done with having to explain himself over and over to the dumbest of minds, but they also were that fundament that held the pyramid together. So, he had to treat them well from time to time. As long as those people are doing what is needed from them, obviously. 

“Miss Haines, I think you are still lacking in the wider perspective,” Coriolanus delivered with a completely blank expression and then asked a question, addressing more of the entire council than just that woman. “Do you know why separation in societies exists?”

Dead silence.

“To disparate the worthy from the unworthy. I am sure you don’t mean to say that Mrs Snow is just so dense that she didn’t have everything planned out already? We as a unit worked on this idea for a very long time and found the appropriate measures on how this can benefit our beloved Gem of Panem.”

Undeniably, this was nothing but straight lies. In the past, Coriolanus kept and kept rejecting his wife’s idea and only a couple years ago understood what possibilities it could open up. But, the other half of the council who were not part of the loyalist group and especially Agathe still did not look too convinced on this. 

Lucy Gray would not be a huge fan of what he was about to dump on the small audience in a couple of seconds, especially when her project is being used as a shield by Coriolanus, the last possible person she approved of getting his hands on it. He knew it, but didn’t care.

“Sorry Lucy Gray, but the Snow family’s reputation is important. If you wouldn’t act appropriately, at least allow me to save both you and your face.”  

“This is the exact goal our project is trying to accomplish — complete and total disparity right in the heart of the Districts.”

It was only after those words did the Council paid full attention to what their president was saying — the looks Coriolanus was met with ranged from understatement to confusion. A lot of them still didn’t bother working at least a tiny bit their sweet meringue-filled brains to understand: yet again, he was stuck with most of the job, as always. 

So, he did exactly what was asked of him at this very moment — remained calm and collected, coming up with one ridiculous combination of sentences after another; it didn't matter what was “inside” of them as long as it sounded convincing enough.

He survived 10 years of school, 4 years of university and also the whole process of elections in Panem on those tactics — it never failed him before and surely will not fail now.  

“So, is it absolutely necessary for your and the Lady’s plan for those children of dirt to move here?”

“If she wouldn’t shut her mouth right now, this woman will be on the billboards for missing people in no time, while her remains are going to be digesting in the stomachs of Dr Gaul’s mutts,” thought Coriolanus, while keeping his exterior masterfully.

“For this plan? No doubt, Miss Haines,” he then unnoticeably nodded to Festus, indicating he was now allowed to speak. The Gamemaker coughed, preparing to support his president’s claims.

“After talking with president Snow for some time some previous days, I suppose we gathered enough knowledge on this subject matter to discuss it properly,” Creed was calm and careful in his wording, almost sounding like a very smart person at that moment — Coriolanus very much liked and approved that. “Essentially, the Districts as a whole are living in a one big Arena — our goal is to make them fight against each other… Without giving out weapons they can turn against the Capitol.”

Festus Creed was not just a Gamemaker, he was the Gamemaker — not as stand out as Dr Gaul (and Coriolanus did not want that in the first place — the potential for him becoming the next Ravinstill was way too unpleasant as a thought), but still noticeable enough that almost all of the 9 years of his career, he managed to deliver an unforgettable show to the Capitol and a harsh reminder to the Districts — his reputation has been outrunning him long ago, so any word that came out of his mouth was potentially a valuable claim and backup for any of Snow’s plans, no matter how seemingly insane they might sound at first. 

And right now, the selling of this project was undoubtedly their hardest task. 

“Like Mr Creed here said — Arenas are built around an idea of having supposed “allies” fight to death, all to never even think about rebelling against the ones that rule, as they are busy tearing each other to the bones like the savages they are.”

It now was clear that the councilmen and women were now fully invested in this speech of interest, so even the lousy Agathe Haines did shut up for good — at least now Snow’s ears can honestly relax from that nightmare of a pipsqueak voice. 

“Firstly, the Capitol welcoming a bit, only a small bit of students in its sacred walls will provide us with a leverage against the Districts — now, there will be no doubt in our generosity. We gave them a form of punishment through the Hunger Games, now this can be considered their reward for their current loyalty.”

About three people out of 15 looked at president Snow as if he was insane. Did they just hear it right? 

Rewarding these scorched lands? 

Coriolanus was prepared for such a mixed reaction — after all, when he chose Lucy Gray as his partner for life, the Capitol met this couple with huge distrust, when many openly mocked his marriage. He didn’t care… More like the pros outweigh the cons. 

Thanks a bunch to Livia Cardew, who was on a brink to become an actual social pariah in the circles of noble families for her child born out from a random one-night stand, all while she wasn’t even married, “losing an only honor a woman initially has” — while her name was fully tainted, Coriolanus was running back and forth, doing all possible and impossible to shine, along with the bright, exotic bird of his. 

And it paid off — where is the Cardew family again, wrapping themselves up in their bank money, hiding their faces from the world and where is he?

Remembering Livia’s embarrassing fate, knowing she was forever stuck in the Academy and will be dealing with the District monsters most of her time in the future, almost brought out a bloodthirsty smirk of satisfaction to Coriolanus’ face, but he managed to swallow it, outside staying the same — rational, cold, unbreakable. 

Now, it was time for the explanation of the second part that is planned for the project that is carrying an innocent name: “Rainbow Kids”... He had a tough story with rainbows — they were bright, but did not stay around for very long and also were ruining the view of the usual sky. His Lucy Gray sometimes devoured her “iconic” look from her Hunger Games way too much and that made him hate rainbows even more than he already did. 

“I am sure you also could hear in some places that those District children can become fully fledged citizens of the Capitol after completing their studies,” president Snow’s teeth almost loudly clacked after he really managed to say that. “I want to make it very clear, very quickly that those rumors are not true — we will announce the giving out of benefits from the Capitol. Those benefits will be for the families of those children only, as well as for any potential winners of the 1st place that will later come to the Gem of Panem.”

On those words, Festus slightly smiled and nodded to Coriolanus — after all, he was potentially one of the first people to understand that plan. Hunger Games operated the same… They were the same.

“I see where you are going with this, President Snow,” Mr Crane said, after giving a respectable pause. “Is it what I think it is?” It was the second time Coriolanus had to hide a smirk. 

“I thought about it for a very long time and I came to the conclusion — the Districts need a higher middle class in their society. A small, privileged group of people, who need to make it clear that they have those preferences from the Capitol.”

It was the moment where even the most braindead person could figure out what the president was plotting — now it was clear who actually has knowledge on the topic of Hunger Games and who tries their best to keep as far away from this event as they can. 

“As you know, every low breed needs an enemy. Or something they can despise while living in the worst conditions imaginable — all to not go insane. Cultivating hate for the Capitol is obviously out of the question.”

“We don’t need another Rebellion or especially Dark Days. Our city suffered enough as it is…” thought Coriolanus, while knowing that if something like that would ever happen, he would not be like Ravinstill and chicken out, only being a marionette figurehead. Only right now is not the right time for this — Panem had just entered the state of development as the restoration under his leadership was now over. 

The ministers and council members agreed with him — now they know that their president has not lost his marbles, as love for a District tramp had completely clouded his rational judgment. 

Then, Snow continued spitting out surprise after surprise. 

“You may have heard the news that some Districts started to “train” their potential tributes. Officially — it is illegal, but Mr Creed got the information that this is done strictly in Districts 1 and 2, our allies and the ones who proudly tower over others as they submitted their loyalty to the Capitol at the right time.”

Obviously, most of the people here who were not that deeply invested into the Hunger Games, some of which even perceiving one of the Capitol’s and the president’s biggest weapon of fear as nothing but some entertaining reality TV show got really confused — well, at least this time, they were smart enough to keep their mouths shut.

“The Hunger Games are starting to be seen as an honor — I give it 5 years to volunteering to participate in the show and receive glory becoming a golden standard in the Elite land,” Festus proved his working brains yet again, by referring to the One and Two as “elite”, all while never putting them on the same level as the Capitol.

That is exactly what Coriolanus wanted all along — heavy pushing of the Games and feeding on those two Districts’ unrealized superiority complex allowed them to dance to the Capitol's tune and they didn’t even notice it.

Well, this was the first step of separating the Districts from one another — just so they never ever, even in the worst nightmares would think of uniting together again. And step two of the same plan was already knocking on the door, as Coriolanus continued. 

“By giving out preferences to the members of this program seemingly for free, there can be a potential division inside the society of those lands — some will believe that the richness they have obtained was undeserved, adding onto the fact that the gold medalists were freed from the Reaping and potential participation,” Coriolanus now sounded even more confident, deciding it would be a perfect time to add some emotion into his voice. “Families of those medalists will be fed and clothed by the Capitol, separating them from others, all while everyone else are going to follow a regular structure — some families will be richer, so will be poorer, but no one in the Districts will get as much as the Victors and gold medalist families.”

Yes, this was it. The pyramid inside the society is real — by having the ones who survived the Hunger Games, the public executions meaning to demonstrate the absolute authority of the Capitol, while a crumb of kids who could sing well, along with their families also received the same benefits from the higher ups could create a community fueled with rage, that poured gasoline everywhere, waiting for the match that will burn it all.

Only the ones they are going to burn will be their own people.

“They will be so desperate seeing the Games’ continuation, that they will be full with hate to the rich, so much that it will overshadow their previous feelings,” this was the logic Coriolanus followed and knew that it was the right way. “The Capitol is far away and the non-worthy rich are here, within the reach of a hand — who are they going to throw the first rock into? Then, a couple of public executions for those crimes and the Districts as a union will be history.” 

Looks like the seat holders in the council figured this out already. There was no more whining, even Agathe had shut her mouth up for good, which was a music to Coriolanus’ ears, as he looked at them scrubbing in their papers, while some of them still let out the hums of distrust. 

Obviously, no one in their right mind would dare to defy the president’s words, especially if those words were orders — but many of those people were the descendants of important bloodlines: proud, snobbish, the ones who looked down on everyone and everything. And they knew that they wanted at least an illusion that they held some power in the decisions that were made here. 

“I cannot make mistakes now,” those thoughts were the only ones weighing on Coriolanus’ brain, as he continued to explain the order that the operation is going to be done. 

Agathe Haines wanted supervision for the day of the golden medalist’s arrival, along with Mrs Phipps, who in the last 3 years really wanted to jump on the education bandwagon — as the president thought, only thanks to it being “trendy”.

He obviously had to agree, although felt terribly for Lucy Gray, who was about to be stuck with two incredibly annoying people inside the Academy walls. No doubt — horrible, but until they can find ways to get rid of both Cardew and Haines with their high-pitched voices, the Snow family had to deal with them.

“I think president Snow is right,” the head of the Crane family, that provided dorms for the time of the District children staying in the Capitol (something that Coriolanus spent hours convincing Lucy Gray to accept, as it would be a better move than let some District 1 business owner pay for it), said, being met with a nod from Mrs Monty. “After all, we are the Capitol — where is the harm doing it, as this is just getting us more leverage. I see nothing but good outcomes from doing this.”

Support from the famous politician and hotel chain owners, who was twice the age of the person he swore his loyalty to, really played a key factor. Exactly what was needed.

Now, it was a clear indication that everyone who was currently against the idea didn’t have much ground to stand on — after all, President Snow was vise in both words about the goal of the project and having solid backing up. 

“And as always, I am here, trying to make sense of a truly insane situation. Let’s try it then…” thought Coriolanus, holding his chin with a tightly gripped fist, just so he can avoid even thinking about punching something or someone.

This whole situation was a giant gamble, where everything had a chance of blowing up to bits: councilmen and women who barely had faith in the project, all while having all power possible to even if not putting a stop to it, but try and shake the construction he had spent so much time sustaining.

After all, he is not Ravinstill. Coriolanus Snow will not be the one poisoned for a series of dumb decisions or lack of backbone — he will definitely need to talk with Aster about the future of the situation and how to deal with it; tomorrow, this has to be done tomorrow. 

“So be it, Lucy Gray. I will dance to your song, like those snakes around you did, while you were in that Arena. But you will have to pay for my generosity and better pay it double.”  

What everyone in this room did not see, is that it was a perfect leverage over not just the Districts, but also over her. Now, it would be a good time to repay this favor that he had done for her, just like she did after the 10th Hunger Games.  Dr Gaul taught him to not be wasteful with his resources and being way too generous with what he can give, so he wouldn’t. 

Currently, all of the cards are in his hands — he just needs to play them right. Or else, the fragile order that he was rebuilding for 9 years after the Dark Days would be on the verge of collapse. 

˚｡⋆❅⋆｡˚

Next morning Lucy Gray was gone again. Bad, very bad, cold, cruel Lucy Gray. 

“Tell me the truth — do you enjoy torturing us all? Because every night and day like this, you are breaking 3 hearts; not just one,” Coriolanus looked at the remains of his family from the head place of the table, trying to look unbothered at least for his children’s sake. 

About half an hour before leaving for the important day, he, Philomel and a visibly nervous Aster were sitting at the table, finishing breakfast. 

It was cold, very cold for a North side morning. And the once again empty chair on the other side of the table and the sour expressions of all three people in this dark, thanks to the heavy blue curtains covering the windows were making everything worse. 

“Why. Why today…” Aster bit his lip as he wasn’t even looking down on his food, swinging his leg under the table up and down.

Seeing her brother’s angry face instantly buried all Philomel's good mood, but the girl continued to remain silent. They were both staring in their bowls; while the heir’s plate showed his reflection full of scorn, Philo could hardly contain her excitement and Coriolanus noticed this. 

This was either a good or bad thing — it was evident that his daughter was leaning too much into the potential “partnership”, as he called it, couldn’t bear the thought of saying “friends”.

“So…” Aster then muttered, dropping another full spoon of whipped cream carrot soup back into the plate. 

“Behave yourselves today — half of your classmates will be acting like wild dogs. Contain them, soothe those flames of anger,” President Snow said dryly, in a half-commanding tone. 

Aster, at the mention of the Academy, grinned with tiredness, but behind his grin hid downcast eyes and doing a light "knock-knock" with fingers, out of irritation.

Coriolanus looked at them again, noticing the visible fear in the children’s eyes, as they dug their bodies into the chairs as much as they could. The atmosphere at the table right now was worse than the piercing cold.

"Calm down, I would not eat you," it was understandable why Aster or Philomel sometimes were afraid of him, as if who wouldn’t? 

But he spent enough time almost being judged by his late father’s shadow, while Tigris was always terrified of Crassus Snow, be he alive or dead.

Philo coughed and then, after a small pause was courageous enough to melt the ice that formed from the snow. 

“Yes we’ll do it, as always — you can count on us, dad,” she smiled, while tugging Aster’s shirt, making a wrinkle on his perfectly polished Academy blazer, but only received a covering of her small hand from her brother.

She loved those little moments. Coriolanus loved to witness those little moments. 

This really showed that those two were a real team. 

Only thing that was ruining this idyllic picture was the sour that refused to leave his son’s face — come on, at least Philomel here is trying, is it really so hard to pretend for at least a bit?

Coriolanus has been pretending for most of his life. And the years that he didn’t… Were compatible with a deep blur in front of his eyes. 

Why can’t his son do the same?  

“Fix your face, Aster. Your smile will be needed for this,” as soon as he finished his meal, the two kids immediately got up, as if they were the councilmen working under the president in the meeting room. Coriolanus approached his children and looked them in the eyes, but not before noticing the bowls of soup that both were barely touched and hardly managing to keep his face properly. 

After all, food was priceless — long ago, the Capitol learned that in a hard way and now that lesson came back to haunt the Districts with twice the amount of pain that they caused.

Like always, he has been an obedient kid — tried to smile, all while tightly gripping Philomel’s hand; his father was right, he really needs to get himself together and fast. 

He did. As asked.  

Coriolanus took him by both shoulders, still looking in his deep, dark eyes with a bit of distrust. What concerned him is that his son, his heir, the one who is shaped into the one taking over Panem one day was looking bothered, no – worried even.

"Please, I need you to be honest now Aster, and do not lie,” like most times, the president’s voice was stern, but even in his judgmental stare, the young Snow noticed some notes of care. “Do you really consider these wretched people a threat? A threat to whom — you? The member of the great Snow family?” 

“Just fantastic,” Aster barely kept himself from rolling his eyes and Philomel quickly raised her guard, now being stuck with a small problem on how to show her support to her brother.

"Well… I… Obviously not…” he hesitated, searching for the right words, still glancing sideways at his sister — she quickly began to think with him, as if they shared one brain. 

It still didn’t help much. Both in thought under the icy gaze that pierced the soul, the duo never found a worthy answer. Coriolanus did not like this — his children should not stagger like jelly from the slightest breeze blowing in their direction. He needs them to be strong — he cannot protect these two souls forever. 

Oh, how badly did he want them both to have his sneaky brains, youthful stubbornness and ability to break through any obstacles! Snows aren't supposed to be dandelions, easily smashed and walked over. Snows are the mountains, towering even over the Capitol, being the closest to the sun.

“Dad… You don’t really think that we wouldn’t manage?” Philo talked, putting on a thin, see-through mask of sweet, tender confidence. “We can do it, we can — I promise you that…

His one hand softly slipped from Aster’s shoulder, the grip on whose body became much less strong. Putting anything in the hands of those children would be a huge risk, especially when he does not trust them as much as he wished to. 

What was going on with Philo didn’t matter much — she was a resourceful girl and what was asked of her were simple things to do, like keep the peace.

The thing that was disturbing enough for the great president of Panem to pay attention to was Aster yet again — at this age the boy had enough audacity to spare, was no doubt naturally charming, inheriting his more lively, expressive face from Lucy Gray and for his age displayed remarkable intelligence. 

On the other hand, the same audacity and self-awareness harmed the kid a bit more than Coriolanus had intended — from time to time, Aster could be dramatic, emotional. Both of those moments were opening the door for potential failing and he didn’t not want his child to be disappointed in himself. 

“Listen, I am sorry for asking this of you,” he tried to smile as he held their shoulders, both being visibly doubtful and at the same time hopeful. 

Even a smile appeared on his face and that was a rare moment to witness: “I know this will be hard, but stay focused — you two are the smartest of this Academy, take it as a… training lesson,” said Coriolanus, as brother and sister smiled to their father back.

It was always good to leave the tension of being “Snow” behind, just for a bit and have their father back, not living with only the all-powerful, dominating figure in Panem under the same roof.

While Aster was acting proud to be in such a great Capitol dynasty, genuinely putting the “president” on a pedestal and trying to do the possible and impossible things to be like the ideal version of their father, Philomel has never gotten the obsessiveness over all of that. 

Her father was someone to be terrified of and he indeed reached that goal — every person that she has ever known in her life was almost on their knees out of respect to President Snow. At least that’s what she got out of the crumbs of interactions of her father and his councilmen that she managed to overhear from time to time. 

“Support is always good. But I really do think that acting as if the task is a chore and not an opportunity for me to spend more time with my friends is something I really like…”   

She already spoke up enough — after that clowney of s family dinner, Aster point blank told Philo that she made a mistake during it, openly talking about her position of approving her own mother’s project. “Think what you like, but never let your emotions be known to others; you are a Snow, damn it!” This is what she remembered the best from Aster’s rant, where only his voice was heard. 

What was the most disheartening is that he was right.

This is fine, all of it is going to be fine.   

Looking up to Coriolanus, who after some time removed his hands from both of their shoulders, Philo noticed that his smile, although didn’t disappear entirely, became more focused with the look that he was giving Aster. They really wanted to be left alone, not involve a “gentle little lady” in their important matters. 

No matter how annoying, she already grew out of that age when it genuinely offended her — after all, she was no politician. She was a performer; sparkling and bright when needed and quiet like a mouse when not. 

“So, see you this evening, right dad? I have a program after school, so expect me later,” she got up to his tiptoes, planted a gentle kiss on her father’s cheek and (to look a bit more clueless) nodded her head, asking for Aster to follow her, perfectly knowing that he wouldn’t. 

“Just five minutes butterfly, me and your brother need to discuss something,” it was always the same thing and she was used to it. 

It was useless to try and eavesdrop, so Philomel simply left the metallic-colored door of the dining room alone and shifted her attention to the main living room, where she was now standing, awkwardly trying to not move much, as putting her feet on one another could dirty her pretty shoes. Sighing, her eyes slowly moved to the frosted wall and more on the left side of it. In the center, like the most rare expedition in a museum, all of which Philomel had visited, was hanging a large photograph of the Snow family. 

They took it 2 years ago, on her birthday: one of the rare occasions that the family was actually together. Beautiful... Sort of. Philomel never liked it that much.

Lucy Gray, in a sparkling silver dress that emphasized her fragile and thin figure, was in the front, almost royally sitting in a chair upholstered in dark brown leather, bowing her head and smiling just a little, not throwing away her artistic mask, as her licorice long hair streamed down her tiny shoulders. Coriolanus, depicted with an impenetrable, stern face, was standing behind and keeping his hands imperiously on the back of his wife's chair, dressed in his favorite deep red coat, while his serious gaze was aimed, as the little lady herself liked to quote, "to the future." 

On the left is Philo herself, equally tiny, in a beige dress with a large bow at the neck, like a little princess placing her thin arms on a miniature throne, while offering one hand to Aster standing behind her in a gray-blue suit.
He was serious about this day, even covering up any “unflattering” things like the large amount of freckles on his face, not wanting to mess up the photo. At the moment of photographing, he really wanted to imitate his father, hence his facial expression was much more well-kept than usual.

What a pretty illustration for any Panem news magazine cover. 

Just a couple of years ago, Philomel could clearly say to herself: "This photo is just a mask. The real Snow family in my mother's office, in a frame — where, against the backdrop of the only painted wall of the penthouse, a smiling father holds me in his arms, and my mother's hand is squeezed by Aster, whose face is smeared with green paint."  

But now, looking at the huge photo more closely, the girl was no longer so confident in her words.

As she watched the glamming photograph, Philomel didn’t even notice that the door had opened — she only turned her head with Aster’s hand on her shoulder, almost yanking away from him. This reaction brought a smile on his face, yet she still noticed that his movement was more stiff, as if he was a toy soldier. 

Coriolanus turned his son by the shoulder, holding up the freshly chopped bright blue rose and put it in the boy’s uniform’s front pocket, fixing it to his standards — every time their father was doing this, Philo noticed how her brother’s face turned to a somewhat blissful expression.

Aster himself then quickly turned to her, fixing Philo’s pearly white choker that had a big, artificial white rose attached to it.

“Roses, roses — roses everywhere,” thought the girl, as her gaze was sliding down, all to the pinkish ballet flats that she was wearing, which also had artificial roses on top of each one. 

“And Aster — stay focused and don’t get caught,” Coriolanus’ smile vanished from his face with only small traces of it left.

“I am careful, I promise — I don’t get caught,” Aster coughed, brushing his hair behind his ear a couple of times, while trying to forcibly relax his always trembling hand — it was always trembling when he did this. “…I wouldn’t get caught.”

“And I’m here to help — always at your service,” on this, Philomel hugged her brother’s arm even tighter, giving both men a small, almost unnerving smile. 

But it looked like this response satisfied Coriolanus enough that he again relaxed, hugging both children goodbye the last time — it was hard for him to imagine that they both grew up just like that…

Soon, Panem will belong to them and only them: he will make sure of it, he knows that he raised them both well, even with small flaws that can be easily fixed.

“So, see you this evening, good luck to you both. Snow lands on top?”

“Snow lands on top.”

˚｡⋆❅⋆｡˚

The Academy entrance was decorated with colorful ribbons, around which were tied many bright, colored balloons of all the colors of the rainbow that let light from the bright sun through itself, making the green grass having all of the most curious colors imaginable. Today’s day was literally perfect.

Students started to form a crowd in front of the gates, trying to squeeze through and see the large cardboard poster hanging there — dissatisfied grumbling and even cursing could be heard everywhere. Having barely noticed Aster and Philomel, as always walking arm in arm, the crowd, of course, parted for them so that the children of the president and a performer could see with their own eyes the works of their mother. 

Aster saw a lot of angry faces that day — almost no one was on board with the idea, as everyone stared at the door like it had just murdered their pet hamster, as if the students knew that as soon as they enter the Academy, nothing will be the same for them. He obviously waved and greeted everyone on his way, smiling as if he himself was ever performing on a stage — well, with such an expressive, alive face he potentially could be. 

Every now and then, slowly walking through the thick crowd, son of the president, while being in full focus and gripping Philomel’s hand, could hear annoying and annoyed voices, some of which were higher in their pitch tone:

“…Why couldn’t they open their own trash school? Why use ours?”

“…Good luck for me to study normally.” 

“…They will be eating with their hands I just know it — father told me that District people have terrible manners!”

While they were waiting for the gates to open, Aster felt a shoulder tap — thinking it’s Cyril, he firstly wanted to smile, until the lung-burning smell of cigarettes reached his nose; this was just a perfect way to already rain all over his parade before it started. 

Why, just why. 

Vanessa Cardew, a small copy of her annoying mother, was looking at him like she had just eaten a whole bucket of lemons, holding and blowing a cigarette in her hand. Philomel looked at her with no visible annoyance, all while Aster and Vanessa already felt the ice walls forming between each other. 

She looked even worse than usual, with her full lips and quite big nose being down and the bold Capitol makeup did not cover this — her dark hair, the only thing she was different from shrill-voiced Academy principal lady Livia Cardew, on which he always poked fun at were straightened and fixed into a slick ponytail that was shining from having the year amount of hair products in it.

But most importantly, Cardew was pissed at him. 

Well, she always had it out for the Snow family, but today it was different.

“Congratulations, Snow.”

No response.

“…Hope you are happy with this. My mother has now to give a speech on your family’s nightmare idea,” as she rolled her eyes, with one swift move of the hand, Aster took out the smoke from her and threw it somewhere in the bushes with a completely blank expression on his face. 

“Are you mental? Or forgot to take your rabies shots, Snow?”

“Don’t smoke so much — the smell can be heard by others,” Aster, although hating her to the core, spoke politely and in the way that if Vanessa wouldn’t attract too much attention on them, it wouldn’t be that noticeable.

“Even if I much preferred to have her be publicly shamed,” thought the Snow heir, as Philomel sighed, while Vanessa theatrically huffed, turning her head away from him — not surprising, many of the currently living and growing children of the Capitol displayed similar attitude, as if all of them thought that the universe revolves around them. Many were dense, many were obnoxious and only 1 percent of them displayed the level of power their great surnames carried.

He raised his eyebrow and Cardew heiress finally quieted down, hiding her silver lighter in her purse. She knew that she couldn’t even talk back to him — despite the fact that they were living in the Capitol, both came from well-known families, the pyramid was real. Cardews might have been an important family, but Vanessa never forgot where they were now, thanks to the scandal involving her mother and also the fact that Aster no doubt outranked everyone in this courtyard, making it clear with every step he took. 

“How about instead of fighting, we will get along for today? It is quite important for all of us, after all,” Philomel, who was more friendly to Vanessa than she deserved, said. 

“Philo is right, now we are all in the same boat, don't you agree Vanessa?” Aster smiled at her, when noticed that a certain number of people finally paid some attention to them. He glanced at Cardew, hoping she wouldn’t be too much of a problem. It was a serious event, where everyone needed to be on their best behavior and not clown around… 

“Or else what will I tell dad?”  

Fighting with anyone was the last on this priority list, when he managed to get a closer look on the billboard that was hanging on the greeting gates. There it was, the source of his stress for the next few years…

***

Winners and participants in the program: “Making Panem United”:  

Silk Quade — District 1   

Leona May — District 2  

Vista Conley — District 3  

Doris O’Harrow — District 4  

Foss Mercer — District 5   

Casey Packard — District 6  

Rowan Sawyer — District 7  

Jute Tucker — District 8  

Zea Milner — District 9  

Danzel Fowler — District 10  

Willow Hill — District 11  

Basil Sangster — District 12  

***

Those names were only words on paper to him — they meant nothing, so he had to treat them like nothing and most importantly stay calm. 

Aster noticed that others were looking expectantly at him, thinking that he will openly support their claims, but he just kept quiet, holding his head high like the one towering over others should do it. 

So, following his silent example, lots of students stopped their constant complaining when the doors opened and they were finally allowed inside. Good, thought Aster, the last thing this day needs is a bad atmosphere and sour faces everywhere. Vanessa walked away from them — at least something good at this moment. 

“Can’t disappoint ma… Even if I don’t like any of this.”   

As they walked together inside the Academy’s main building, Philomel could hardly contain her excitement: for a second, the format reminded her of the list for the Hunger Games, of which she had seen a lot throughout her 14-year life and 9-year TV career. 

But she quickly calmed herself down, reminding her that now everything would be different — these guys came here to bring music to the masses and not to kill. 

While the brother and sister looked at the list, and Philomel inwardly rejoiced at the presence of a close friend on it, they suddenly both felt heavy hands on their shoulders, almost jumping up from the shock. 

“Cyril!” Crane laughed and although Aster looked annoyed with him now, his company was miles better than anyone else’s, especially when the last person he talked to was Vanessa Cardew. 

"Making Panem United" — what a name, I'm about to throw up a rainbow," he mockingly chuckled from behind, crossing his arms. “Madam didn't come up with the idea, right? 

"No, PR people," Aster waved him off with another seemingly unbothered look. 

Complete lie. 

The entire time he felt uneasy — wanting to do nothing with it, Aster was almost forced into participating and then supporting the tax stealers from “outside”; words were not invented for such an amount of pain that was about to fall on his shoulders. 

Philomel, on other hand, could not wait to meet everyone again, especially Doris, who she missed dearly — even if the older girl was not around physically, it did not stop the president’s daughter to sneak around at every possible moment to call or at least exchange one or two letters with her.

All of the students currently attending the Academy were instructed to move to the Pearl Hall — the same place where the reapings for the 10th Hunger Games were broadcasting for the at that time student Coriolanus Snow. 

The Academy students took their places, as Aster automatically got the front row space for Philomel, Cyril and Iolanthe, who, slightly sweaty and a bit more messy than usual but still wearing her usual ditzy smile on her face, barely managed to find them in this giant pool of red uniforms. 

“Guys, I SWEAR, I had the best outfit prepared before got the- Ooops,” the green haired girl quickly shut her mouth when she noticed Aster’s serious, focused face — though Cyril quickly offered his hand to her, freeing a better place on the school bench to sit. 

Aster looked over them, gently and friendly touching Cyril’s shoulder, nodding with confidence for what was about to come and removed a leaf from Iolanthe’s hair. For any random person passing by it would have looked as a sign of flirting, but he was not interested in any of it, especially since the girl with wide gray eyes was strictly his good friend, someone nice to talk to and nothing more. But currently he, as someone who planned to become a future president of Panem, thought that he bore some sort of responsibility to them. 

They didn’t have to wait for very long, as the lights in the hall went out relatively quickly and the sound of a signature academy bell went over their heads. 

“Are you excited, Ter?” Philomel did her best to cheer him up, but at least now he didn’t need any face fixing, even if inside he felt like he was going to be fried alive from the offense that was burning out his lungs better than Vanessa’s cigarette ever will. 

He fixed his stance, checking the surroundings while slightly biting his lip from impatience. The Capitol needed to look perfect that day — such a relief that he managed to convince Cyril to not bring out his “legendary prank idea” to life, as 3 weeks long-rotting garbage dumped on a bunch of kids and the First Lady of Panem would have been a disaster.

The heir remembered his father’s words way too well. They shouldn’t do any extra movements and the game had already begun, long before he could even see his opponents.

“No. Dad’s right — they are no match for the Capitol… For me; no one is.”  

“…Very.” 

The speech of the Academy’s principal, (also known at the same time as the mother of the pain in the back Vanessa), Livia Cardew, basically went in and out his ear — this woman was such a terrible orator she could manage to make even the talk about the Rebellion a boring thing to recall. 

But then, as if no time had passed, a dozed out Aster heard: “Now, allow me to invite the founder of the project on stage — obviously, she needs no introduction.” 

To the sound of extremely short heels, a petite woman confidently got up there, with a radiant smile on her face — she picked out an orange dress, probably to match the color of her mood. Her usually wildly curly hair was now combed up and had two fresh, bright sunflowers sticking out from each side of it. 

Unlike a usual look appropriate for the First Lady, Lucy Gray’s face was decorated with a contrast of red lipstick, equally orange eyeshadow which was emphasized by some brief tone of golden eyeliner. The songbird was now looking like a moving sun, completely outshining everyone in the auditorium. 

Aster was amazed: was it really his mother? He had forgotten the last time she looked so well-rested, glimmering, and smiling so wonderfully, as if she were really happy at that moment. The sunny woman spotted her children sitting in the front row and winked faintly, soon beginning to read her speech, without any speech cards.

“Good day, students of the Capitol Academy. My name is Lucy Gray: I am the founder of a music school, the owner of schools in the Districts and the leader of the program ‘Making Panem United’.”

"Just 'Lucy Gray’, not even 'Lucy Gray Snow’... Are we that image-tainting for her?" Aster clenched his fist until his hand hurt.

Lucy Gray spoke for a long time, while behind him, on the screens, shots from ‘peaceful life’ that had already managed to bore him to the edge were shown, and he remembered them having been shown on TV for several years. Speaking about her precious program, the singer's voice conveyed unprecedented confidence and pride. Aster on the other hand could not say the same. 

"I hope Philo and I were at least a worthy price to pay for your project," he muttered through his teeth, every now and then distracted by Cyril, who mimicked any phrase about ‘peaceful Panem.’ Everyone knew that this wouldn't happen, so why hope? 

The districts and the Capitol are incompatible, and everyone in this room seemed to understand this, except for Lucy Gray herself… 

Aster got so worked up over that damn circus of a day, where the biggest clowns were both him and Philomel, that he didn’t even pay attention to the 12 contestants and now his (ew) new classmates, who his mother was introducing to everyone. As he could see from his blurry vision, all of the 12 kids were not wearing the usual Capitol Academy red blazers — they kept the pants and skirts, but the shirts were all different colors, ranging from bright to less obnoxious — now definitely, they looked like a rainbow…

“Screams gaudy — looks like when a duck painted its feathers white, thinking this will make it a swan.” Aster could only roll his eyes over this cheap attempt at imitating the Capitol.

The rest of her speech felt like a blur and the only thing that was remotely recognisable were the forced clapping sounds of the Academy students and a genuine one right next to his ear. 

Philomel was really trying her hardest to contain her excitement and when the introduction speech was over, Aster could feel her almost jumping off her seat and go as quickly as she could to the stage — everyone else had no idea how to react, while Aster tried pulling himself together.

“How much did I miss?” as he turned to Cyril, a nasty look that he was giving the whole District parade the entire time quickly vanished. He was not laughing, only sighing with a smile and Aster very much respected that.

“…Everything.”

“Damn, just amazing,” the two friends chuckled to one another, even if both were bad at hiding their offense in this situation. 

Crane despised the Districts even more than the regular Capitolite, so Aster clearly saw his desire to grab a full bucket of coal dust and dump all over their shiny shirts — well, fitting, the poorest of them really produces coal; so sad that it’s not the right time to do this. Now as his father told him, they need to behave. 

“What is she doing?” Iolanthe suddenly asked, nodding her head to Philomel, who was close to shaking hands with the District children, which caused Snow’s eye to slightly twitch. 

“She has got to be kidding me…”  

Looks like she really took father’s order to heart — currently, most of the Academy students already got up from their places, being encouraged to say hello to their new classmates, only they kept standing at one place, not moving. Honestly, Aster would much prefer staying where he was and where his friends were, but looks like Philo would need his support soon; one of the first familiar faces that he saw in the crowd was Vanessa, who was shooting death glares at her. 

The rest were quiet — tension levels were so high that someone could cut themselves over it and the death silence in the room, only being spiced by the small and sweet chatting from the place next to stage, with Lucy Gray waiting and waiting for someone other than her overly enthusiastic daughter would come closer. She was not scared or panicking, as always keeping her artistic face and brightly smiling. 

But it didn’t feel like her charms are going to melt the ice that was hall and the hearts all the students, none of which asked for that and Aster knew it.

“Contain the fire,” he remembered his father’s words and after some thinking through, took a deep breath, bit his left cheek to stop the upcoming worries and got up from his place, to the shock of both Iolanthe and Cyril. Crane raised his eyebrows and Aster nodded to the right side, indicating his next move. 

“You sure?” Iolanthe at least had the decency to not hop on her usual train of “whys” and “whats” as those questions were always mostly useless when coming out of her mouth. 

“Don’t worry — Aster knows what he’s doing…” the president’s son's best friend said, watching his back. 

Lucy Gray was still talking to her students, making sure they were all settled and preparing them for their big meeting — there was so much words of both happiness, fear and excitement being said at the same time that no one heard each other properly, but then, the founder of the program noticed the red blazers figures slowly stepping away with no words said out loud, as if freeing the path to someone. 

Aster Snow was walking slowly, with his head held high, but with a relaxed expression on his face — his mother and sister smiled upon seeing him, while the 12 children got visibly tense; some of them, the smallest ones, took one step away, as they saw a Capitol-looking student approaching him with no fitting confidence even inside his pretty tall body. 

First, the boy slowly scanned the small group with his dark eyes — all of them didn’t wear that much friendliness on their faces and looked at him with suspicion, that was clear as day. He thought of introducing himself first, but decided a friendly smile would be a nice beginning for a greeting. 

Luckily, this is where his lovely mother’s genes really came in handy — his smile, that started out small to not raise that much awareness from the beginning, later turned bright, with tiny dimples forming at his tan cheeks which were also covered in contrasting freckles.

“Screw you all, every single one of you.”  

Lucy Gray approached him closely and even if they never would hug in public, the softness in her eyes couldn’t be matched with anything he could think of. Also, after the small introduction, he appreciated that his Ma didn’t start rambling about him being those guinea pigs’ babysitter, so it was always a good way to play smart.

He could feel the eyes of the Capitol Academy students drilling into his head, so although he acted nice enough, he couldn’t allow himself to take the first step — what will everyone say? What will Cyril or Vanessa say? That he is actively trying to buddy buddy with the District tramps? 

“Nice to meet you all,” he said, doing a slight wave with his hand, still acting as friendly as he could. And looks like the charms had some effect — at least a couple of faces relaxed around him.

Suddenly, a figure that was only silently staying in between Philomel and another boy with a white shirt — his blonde hair and greenish eyes gave out a resident of District 1; if he wore proper clothes he could have been confused for a Capitol, walked in front.  

Aster took a moment to relax his face and observed the one who seemed like the bravest of all 12. 

Only word that came to his head was “hideous” — the girl wore a teal shirt, with a shiny “A” symbol that was metallic instead of usual Academy gold dangling on the left side of it. 

The girl was not that much shorter than he was; bronze skin, wide, quite unattractive masculine shoulders, a curvy figure with her hips being wider than her top, so he couldn’t even call it a proper hourglass shape. She had straight hair of the color of dirty grain was fully let down aside from two pigtails from each side that were thrown on the front, her face was too long and cheeky, displaying a single resting emotion, while she kept standing still with her head held equally high.

Overall a complete opposite of his all-gorgeous mother and sister. 

She walked to him stiffly, but still was the one who unexpectedly and firmly extended her hand for greeting. It was very clear to him that she didn’t want to do that, but had to do it for the dignity of that group. Behind her the “different colored shirts” looked even more uncomfortable than she was and boy was Aster innerly enjoying the show, despite not being prepared for this head to head introduction well himself. 

“Are you the director’s son, Aster Snow?” she asked, her voice not hiding that she already knew who was in front of all of them — maybe it was his somewhat visual similarity with his mother, maybe the thing that ratted him out was the contrasting blue rose attached to his uniform or how he preferred to think was the way he was holding up, almost radiating power and influence. After all he was preparing to become the next President of Panem so it would be no surprise.  

“Greetings, name is Doris, District Four and there’s Silk, District One,” on this, she nodded onto the taller blonde in the white shirt. “We both operate as group chiefs, so come to us if you need anything or have any questions — I’m always at your service.” 

Silk also made his presence known, unlike the slim red-haired short girl in a burgundy shirt next to him, who stayed where she was and didn’t respond much — what what, but the signature color of District 2 was familiar to him like no other. At least he has one clear ally here, as the “2” has been abnormally loyal to the Capitol for a long time. 

Well, polite. At least for the Districts standards. 

Too bad this wouldn’t be much of a help. Aster already decided that those twelve are to go to the bottom of society, from where they will never climb out — it doesn’t matter what his mother or Philo will say. The Capitol must be on top of the pyramid and Districts, aside from the chosen 1 and 2 belong at the very end of it. 

But throwing away all those thoughts, Aster pulled himself together, trying to cover up his slightly shaking hand from both the energy pills that were now in his system instead of blood and the dreadful feeling of the situation, having to publicly shake hands with some ridiculous and manly looking District girl. 

He still took the step forward and clasped his hand with hers, with his dark eyes and Doris’ nut colored eyes meeting each other for a brief moment, as if providing to everyone in this auditorium that Snow was also prepared to fight for his terms with kindness. 

“Welcome to the Capitol.”

Chapter Text

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Today was decided to be a “study free” day — both for the new addition to the Academy to just look around, have some open lessons, and get used to the new environment they will spend more than a year in and for the normal people to have their well-deserved rest.

Trying to be as unnoticeable as he could, Aster Snow sneaked out of his friend, or not so much circle, hiding away on one of the balconies inside the auditorium. It was honestly good to be away from others at least for a bit of time; he didn’t enjoy talking with most of them either way — but if when he is going to become President, this is going to be his life full time, like what the current leader of Panem, best known as his father, has to go through as part of a simple routine. 

Meanwhile, his very own daily routine was set up to be spoiled every day starting today.

He was not happy with it — kept his careful eye on the group that kept sticking together, going back and forth through the halls; surprisingly, they were relatively quiet for being from the Districts.

They have prepared well and his sister was an accomplice to this clean and polished image. Even the smallest boy of the bunch, the one with dark hair and skin and bones for a body from 12, who had both the most savage and the most innocent look on his face was kept in check by the girl from District 11, who didn’t leave his side even for a second.

If only it wasn’t for those tacky colored shirts, since some Districts had bad luck with the defining colors — for example, the one from 5 was wearing a purple-shaded one as his uniform; signature District color or not, it looked dumb on those plebs, the stance they possessed looked almost Capitol-like. 

He was indeed grateful that those Rainbow Kids didn’t try to make their presence a big show — that honor once and for all belonged to Lucy Gray Snow and her spectacular performance during her debut in probably the most broadcasted throughout the Capitol Hunger Games, the 10th ones. His and honestly frankly his father’s plan since the beginning was to not drive any attention towards those students, to isolate them from any potential peers and either drive them away or make them dependent on the Snow siblings for their school navigating.

It was good to observe the audience somewhere in the shadows, where the attention was not on him; there was his mother, yet again being pestered by Livia Cardew; the Academy principal, as always dressed like she was hosting a funeral, wearing the same sour expression on her face, while standing next to the sunny and shiny First Lady of Panem and still looking at least 20 years her senior, even though their actual difference between them was no more than 2. 

So while Vanessa loved to call his mother “a dirty District canary”, Aster was fighting fire with fire, using his “Dry branch” comments about his bully's own mother or when Cardew allowed her mouth to run way too freely, the “Old goat” came to use.

But right now, Vanessa Cardew, shocker, was not his biggest problem — those twelve were. 

Oh, how much Aster was now wishing that his father was here at the moment! He definitely wouldn’t have allowed any of them to roam free in the halls of his Academy, the walls of which were decorated with his ‘honor student’ portrait, not before he got them under full control. 

And as much as he, through headaches and gritted teeth, hated to admit it, the current Academy’s best student needed his advice — this was not possible in any way, presidents will never pay too much attention to small school stunts…

Suddenly, he felt someone staring down at him and turned, the first thing he saw was an elegant suit in dark red fabric.

“…Well. Close enough.”  

Innerly praying that he hadn't seen his lost and confused facial expression, Aster turned his head. Strabo Plinth, the man whose single word was capable of moving a thousand bomb planes and whose single glance Aster considered an immediate order, smiled at him lightly but sternly, patting his named “grandson” on the shoulder. 

“Are you enjoying the celebrations? Haven’t seen you around,” he said and despite talking sternly, as Aster quickly caught on, had some notes of slight sadness in his voice. 

“There is nothing to enjoy here, sir. Also, it looks like I am still too much of a kid for your adult talks.”

The young heir smiled and chuckled, keeping the uplifting facade greatly, but it looked like Mr. Plinth was not that convinced of his act — Aster might be capable of tricking someone his age, but doing it with somebody who played the Capitol so well that he ended up as the citizen of it, one of the richest even and with decades of experience behind his powerful shoulders was hard. 

Aster both respected and feared the man, having a relationship with him very much like he had with his father, so his approval was always a big priority for him to obtain. 

Avoiding the adults was annoying, as Snow wanted to establish himself as the sole heir, the one who in the future would be rotating in the highest circles of the Capitol, but he felt he still had yet to learn a thing or two; all to not a make a total fool out of himself in front of his mother or his father’s supporters.

“You don’t look too happy about this arrangement… I figured it as such.”

“Why should I? Just more responsibility I am about to deal with — my school, my problems after all.”

Strabo Plinth, a known man of few words, lowered his head, with his blurry eyes looking down — there, Philomel was smiling, not separating hands with her friend from District 4 and laughing with the rest of the kids, currently showing them one of the famous study memorial corners of the Academy, where all of the trophies of the previous brilliant students were put on display; some were paying attention, but most of them were unable to focus because of the beauty of the building itself. 

Aster was respectful and held his tongue — while it was known that the Plinth family was one of the heavy sponsors of the project, not many had the luxury to know that their once home, District 2 had declared their family persona non grata for their past “betrayal” and then fleeing to the Capitol for safety after the uprising was silenced, leaving all potential Reapings behind. Not only the whole District, but their very own immediate family cut the rope, even after news of the tragedy that happened in the Plinth family 17 years ago was widely known. 

He felt bad for both of his grandparents — while Strabo chose to embrace his new “Capitol” lifestyle he sacrificed everything for, his grandmother still hasn’t let go of her District past. 

“Grandma must be so happy seeing this…” A thought crossed his mind, as he remembered seeing lady Marcia Plinth, who was always called grandmother despite knowing how his actual grandmother used to look like from the portrait hanging on the wall inside the Presidential Palace, currently happily chatting with his aunt about the new addition somewhere far away from the crowds, hiding in the shadows like they usually do. 

“Just try to not avoid the crowds as obviously as you are doing right now,” Strabo shook his head, causing Aster to almost shrink, as he expected more upcoming criticism. “You can’t just lock yourself up in the room to study, learning business matters or not.” 

Young Snow bit his lip. Hey! Isn’t he already doing enough by engaging with all of this, even when he was always against the core idea of Districts and the Capitol almost merging?

He tried moving away, but Strabo kept him where he was with only a single “stay” look, almost forcing Aster to look down, at where his mother was, smiling at the people she despises all in hopes of scoring better chances for her students, the very same kids she promised to take great care of. 

“She is a good one, your mother,” Strabo let out a sigh. Coriolanus’ choice for a “daughter-in-law” once may have surprised him, but like every other person in this world, he fell yet another victim to the charm of the songbird with an angelic voice.

Not surprising. Everyone who met Lucy Gray at least once was doomed to be charmed by her. 

“…I know,” nodding, Aster got cautious. When his old man was speaking in the tone he currently chose for himself, it could mean only one thing. 

And boy he wasn’t wrong, again.

“I heard from your father that you want to stay away from this… But help her — if you do it, at least a quarter of the Academy will be somewhat tolerable of them.” 

He slightly froze, keeping the questioning cough inside. No way he can defy his father’s orders and also, what will his friends say when he is going to be seen with District kind? 

“How do you expect me to help my mother’s case? I have a reputation as a Snow to keep, you know that right, sir?” 

Strabo only gave his “grandson” a small, yet sly, business-looking smile, putting his hand back at Aster’s shoulder again — if someone saw the two from afar, would have thought that they were biologically related, thanks to Lucy Gray’s genes shining through blessing and cursing him with at the same time with darker everything; from his tanner than an average Snow skin and only a bit lighter than both Plinths, to dark eyes and hair.

Maybe this visual similarity was the reason why usually (as his father told him) almost impossible to please Strabo Plinth whose heart was made out of stone, immediately and without any compromises accepted the little boy into the Plinth Empire, taking an active role as a grandfather not even looking twice at the fact that the kid did not share a drop of blood with him.

“Do you know how I was arranging my move to the Capitol? Mr Plinth began explaining his plan, slowly deepening his voice. “The python always starts to swallow its prey from the head — a couple of decades ago, I did the same with the Head of Capitol Military; convincing him that my weapons would better serve the ‘Gem of Panem’ than collecting dust in my warehouses. I advise you to do the very same — find the leader of this group, get that child on your side, and then… You may have the chance of a peaceful union, as those twelve are here to stay.” 

Aster understood him immediately; would have been an embarrassment if he didn’t, but what was he supposed to do now, after those instructions had been laid out? 

The leader. He looked down again, with his eyes almost automatically moving towards the ‘not that attractive’ face of Doris O’Harrow. Looking firstly at her, then at the group, a combination of flavors started brewing inside his brain, but only the luck could know if he would ever be able to make an edible soup out of those ideas. 

So much for staying away from the drama. Not listening to his grandfather meant shooting himself in the foot from the start; a single look on his face was enough to know that it was a test both Strabo and his dear father came up with as if wanting to ask of him: “Want to be the president of Panem? Deal with this all first and don’t make a single mistake.” 

And he wanted the position, very badly; he was about to make history, to fully embrace his family's wants and establish Snows as the ultimate owners of Panem. Now it looks like he was yet again dragged into the very center of the burning fire, following that glorious family saying: “But you are a Snow!” 

This was evidence yet again of why his father and Mr Plinth were always able to get along so spectacularly…

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The Capitol loved to be festive and would find any random occasion to dip into the fizzy sparkling colorful drinks or the desserts dripping with all kinds of fruit sauces, but right now, the auditorium felt as dead and dry as a graveyard. 

At the all-you-can-eat buffet thrown to welcome the new addition to the Academy, at a separate table with Philomel immediately and very much openly joining them, despite what the Capitol kids and especially Aster might say. 

The stars of the show, the “Rainbow Kids”, sat in almost silence, trying to control their awe, just as their little lady friend had taught them. Lucy Gray would have gladly joined, but the etiquette of Panem required her, as the First Lady, to sit near the official faces of the event, which was yet another reason to feel endless annoyance. 

“Are you sure it is just a hall?” usually cheerful, curious Casey of District 6, barely pushing a pretty big fish down her throat said with a whisper. “…Looks fancier than the best club in District 1 where we performed a couple of times.”

The rest tried to keep quieter — chatting during dinner was the courtesy of the Capitolite people, in Districts nobody had “options” to gossip, be the less fortunate or the ones on the “richer” side. 

“Well, right now it has been decorated to celebrate your arrival, so now it’s a bit fancier than what I am used to, but even on the normal days the halls can be extremely flashy” as Philo explained on that basis while elegantly putting her hands on the table, everyone respectfully kept their mouths shut. 

The president’s daughter was the same age as two other group members — the rest were older, either by a year or two, but to them this delicate girl was an authority figure, their only small glimmer of Capitol life. It was hard to say exactly when the 12 students dropped their initial distrust and dislike for this beautiful girl, the Capitol's darling whose small stature did not come starving her whole life. 

All each of them remembered was 7 months ago, when their ensemble only started to be put together, one random training day spent in District 2 base where they all lived for a period of time Lucy Gray was accompanied by a face everyone in the room was familiar with. Almost nobody in the Districts liked Philomel Snow, the child with golden locks streaming down her shoulders, perfect white teeth, whose rosy, cheeky face through the posters almost looked down in mockery to poor District families, who could never afford even a small piece of one of her majestic dresses which she wore during the horrifying public executions that were the Hunger Games. And Lucy Gray knew that. 

The only thing that saved the little Snow was the fact that Lucy Gray, beloved to death by her students and regarded as their savior, previously spoke nothing but words of kindness about her daughter, later showing to the children that those words were not just delusions of any normal parent: Philomel arrived holding a basket full of homemade pies and sweets from her grandmother, wearing a simple white shirt tucked into brown trousers and never in a second looking like she was about to start gloating, showing off her wealth like even some of the rich kids back in the Districts could be doing. 

As many of them said at least one time, it was hard to not fall in love with her — be it their appearance, her ability to charm any living and breathing human, or her completely laid-back attitude that contrasted greatly with the expectations of both her surname and her home. 

Currently, their ties with this child were their only hope to even survive in that golden trap, which was the Academy: none of the elders of the group, Silk, Doris, Leona, and Foss trusted the Capitol even for one bit. 

“So, what’s the plan with… well? No one of us was prepared for him to approach us on his own,” shorter than most of the group, but fierce and full of attitude, redhead Leona put away her fork while containing herself in giving back the death glares she caught the Academy students giving the whole table. 

Silk and Foss, the two tallest and the ones capable of actually protecting anyone, which immediately meant that they possessed huge authority turned to her with serious expressions on their faces. They may have heard one thing or two about President Snow’s first born either from Lucy Gray or Philomel, but even what they heard didn’t awaken too much trust in that boy. 

“I think us all should lay low for now. Again, for now, until we find a more profitable solution,” finally Silk has spoken up, right away getting full attention. “Didn’t the director tell us that he can help?” 

“Well… About that …” Philo gulped and Doris, who was sitting right next to her, gave her a concerned look. 

Despite wanting to keep and paint a more rosy picture, Philomel knew what Aster thought of all of this shebang, as he called the project — there was nothing to change his mind, no matter what she was telling him. 

She could see her friends expecting a clear answer, but she couldn’t give them this. What made it all worse was Doris, who by the mention of Aster slightly pursed her lips, but kept her usual expression regardless of the emotions clouding her mind.

“As I told you all, he is pretty harmless in this regard,” Philomel said, as she didn’t want to set her brother up for failure since the beginning — it would be better to give him a chance than throwing him under the bus of distrust. “So I suppose we can consider him an ally.”

Leona and Doris were not as enthusiastic as some of the others, like Zea, who was the only violinist in the whole group, or Casey — the girls quickly started whispering to each other, while the “adults”, as sometimes they asked to be called, were still keeping a low profile. 

Philomel twisted her head and after making a small pause, while giving a left side-eye finally came around to say something. O’Harrow looked over to her friend and didn’t take too long to notice the change in her facial expression, with the brows crossing and her smile vanishing, like she had put on a stoic mask.

“While Aster is not someone to be wary of, I need you to promise me something,” she breathed in, talking much quieter than most of the hall, so her voice dissolved into thousands of other noises. “See this guy next to him? The one with white gelled hair, shaved sides, and a jabberjay tattoo on his head’s left part?”

All 13 pairs of eyes switched to Aster’s table, where Crane was sitting having his arms crossed on the table, keeping his arms on top of each other, doing his usual light laughs here and there. 

Seeing that delightful picture, Philomel innerly chuckled, thinking she had the rare opportunity to see the ball of snakes curling out, slightly but silently hissing at anyone who may approach them thinking they were an easy target. 

“That’s Cyril Crane. He may be my brother’s best friend, but he is bad news. Pretty aggressive, likes to laugh at the expense of others, and doesn’t like the whole idea much, being pretty public about it too…”

“…Just fantastic,” Philo was suddenly interrupted by the usually loud Dan, who rolled his eyes — now the conditions demanded him to be quiet, all to avoid angering the Capitol. “I guess now we all need to line up and be prepared to get… what, a whipping from the privileged ass’s hand?”

Dan said the last bit so quietly that not even all of his friends at the table managed to hear him — but those who tried their damn hardest to keep their lips sealed and not to laugh. 

That collective snigger was more of a coping mechanism, as all of those 12 kids were internally dying from fear, clutching onto pieces of their bright red Capitol trousers and skirts, doing what Lucy Gray always taught them to do — while on stage, never let the audience know of your fear. 

“Do whatever: smile, laugh, or keep yourselves silenced. But never show anyone how afraid you are,” this was almost the first thing they learned after just being put together as a group. 

Letting out a small sigh, she yet again studied the environment, where gossip despite the quietness was still a guest with its name on the list — along with Cyril and Iolanthe, who at this point were inseparable from her brother, now they were also joined by potentially the biggest party animal the at least seemingly strict Academy has ever seen, Tertius Canville, yet another big-sounding name at that table. She failed to grasp what someone like him was doing with someone like Aster — he called this “status socializing”, Philomel still didn’t understand.

Only Vanessa Cardew was missing from that little clique and they would have enough poison in their veins to send a whole District to their ancestors, but she would have never been caught dead with a son of Snow — potentially that was the only thing Aster agreed with her upon. 

As they were quietly sitting down, discussing future strategies for their stay here to be as drama-free as possible, Philomel couldn’t help but notice that their table was almost massively ignored. No one said hi or attempted to go for contact since Aster did that — it was visibly clear that the Capitol had means to deal with unwanted guests on their own, through pure ignoring. 

Doris looking at this circus where they were the main performers only laughed, much to Dan’s disdain, but also to Zea’s, Jute’s, Willow’s, and Basil’s smiles. Whoever else was not laughing about this (well we don’t need them!) was trying to get their moods lifted by Silk — just like his female colleague, the blonde from District 1 was a natural leader, operating through his calm voice and carefully chosen words, all to not accidentally make someone feel even worse about themselves. 

“Sounds like the red collars wasted no time. We are the no-no topic now, they are surely so happy about this,” Doris, not letting go of Philomel’s hand blurt out a small joke through her whisper, before the group made a silent decision to retreat from the decorated auditorium, despite them supposedly being the main guests on that feast. 

But none of the Rainbow Kids were tricking themselves, be it Casey who always saw good in everyone, soft and sweet Zea, or be it the tiny Basil — all of them understood their “rightful” place as shiny decorations. 

In that poisonous place, they only had two allies. And Aster Snow right now was not one of them.   

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Like the sneaks they were, the Rainbow Kids hid in the Academy’s park; because of all the festivity in the building itself, the usually packed place was no different from a desert, with all of those green acres of land with pretty white benches and elegant tables with attached umbrellas all to their use.

“As if it started to breathe much more easily as soon as we left it. Capitol celebrations of whatever always managed to take the air out of my lungs almost immediately,” Philomel thought, starting to like even the plastic-filled grass of the park, if it meant getting away from her classmates. Or others. Or just everybody. 

Doris was sitting at the bench — of course, they chose to sit together despite the fact that the two girls couldn’t be more different either from the outside and on the inside. Different places of birth, different social standing… Based on the hierarchy alone, O’Harrow, her little ensemble, and Philomel’s classmates, all should be running around to satisfy the Snows’ every little desire and bend to their will — none of which had happened.

Well, to the girls themselves, what could have been didn’t matter much — what mattered to them was what was in front of their eyes. And in front of the eyes of either was a friend. 

“Is it always so quiet? Sounds like we are about to be looking for a hiding spot now — a table with that… Vanessa you told me beforehand looked like they were reading to skin us alive,” The face of the girl from District 4 had barely changed after that, only a small smile bothering its usual resting; that was one of the one thousand reasons Philomel was so fond of her — she never plastered an abnormally huge smile like the rest of the Capitol (her) loved to do. 

“Sadly no — usually you hear your regular chat about parties and other stuff that makes Rowan and Dan vomit. Oh and the bench we are resting on? It’s always occupied.” 

Doris let out a chuckle and stretched, right away putting both hands on the back of the bench. Now it was Philo’s turn to smile — this one was small but genuine, so different from the plastic smiles she gave on live TV and the Capitol “loved” so much… But right now, she has no desire to think about live TV or especially her job. 

“Hey! Hey hey!” The pair of friends suddenly heard some yelling, but it was not Aster’s usual commanding tone where someone acted out yet again much to his “happiness” — this one was mixed with laughter. 

They looked around and what they saw almost threw them off the bench from laughing — Dan was standing on his two hands, a big smile on his face, while his dark and pretty long hair hung down. Jute and Rowan, who were always around him were cheering him on, with Jute doing a funny little dance as a joke and Rowan slowly clapping — he tried so hard to come across as someone who was not amused in the slightest but failed miserably.

“Guys,” Silk, holding back his laugh, approached them, his hand extended. “Get it together, you are no longer in the Districts.” 

Instead of getting up, Dan flexed and bent behind, ending up in a position of a ‘bridge’ instead. More laughter quickly broke out, with Silk and Philomel having to cover their mouths; their reputation of the well-mannered ones quickly came to bite them when no one expected. 

“Well, I didn’t come to the Capitol to be Capitol. I came here to bring my District with me — and that’s what I was usually doing when the goats were left on their own, it was pure boredom!” 

Dan clearly meant it to be a joke, but Philomel, scanning the environment, noticed that many of the Rainbow Kids agreed with him with pure seriousness. Leona, who sat on the grass and surrounded by Vista, who could be the one called her ‘best friend’, Casey, and Zea, proudly raised her chin, crossing her arms.

“Silk, I love you but Dan’s right — if the Capitol thinks we will prance around them, they are very wrong.” 

“I didn’t mean to say go lick their boots,” Silk retaliated — both were from the ‘elite’ Districts, the ones that Capitol loved the most, so they thought they could argue about this at least with each other. Doris didn’t interfere, then it could only mean that it was all okay. “Just… Be cautious around them. The Capitol has ears everywhere.” 

“If they have ears everywhere, I gladly treat them with a performance of the Ballad of Lucy Gray right at their faces — just because I’m from District 2, doesn’t mean that I’m going to play by their rules,” Leona murmured, smiling from ear to ear.

Oh. Oh . Despite that Leona’s voice was itself a treat to listen to, this was one bold statement to make, as this nice melody was heading the very long list of banned songs in Panem — for what reason, the Rainbow Kids could only speculate, but the ban only made them love the song even more, even if it could be considered a rebellion against the Capitol. 

“Aster would surely wipe you off the face of the country if you tried pulling something like this or only your words reached his ears,” Philomel thought, worrying a bit for her friend group. She knew that they were only joking, but how far is the patience of the Capitol can stretch for jokes like this?

And before they could be accused of starting an uprising, Doris got up from her spot, where she previously laid like a sunbathing cat, signaling to Philo she was to return very soon. Silk and Doris, hiding their actual feelings on the situation between the Districts and the Capitol were still doing their duties as group chefs — the blonde got Dan up, though barely any verbal beatdown was given to him, only a warning and also a joke demand to not parade his skills and his falling off shirt. Doris as usual was serenity coming to life, whispering to all of the girls something Philomel couldn’t catch a good glimpse of.

There was no uprising, or defiance — only a bunch of kids away from their home, many of them already missing it terribly. The Capitol was bright and shiny, having all those curious buildings and the food that they had never seen in their life, capable of feeding a couple of Districts just from the ingredients that were needlessly poured into making that stack of incredible dishes, which were served to celebrate something almost no one wanted, but how much of it was it better than the Districts? 

At least back at home, none of those twelve were despised for simply being from the “wrong” place and at least their company was desired by more than 2 people. Yet, they felt they had to keep their head high, despite the silence from the Capitol yearning in their ears — the success of this project could be a lifetime change for the Districts’ conditions of living and their treatment as a whole.

“Swallow. And then… Smile,” was all Philomel could think of, with her being no stranger to the Hunger Games. 

And, as the group of children tried to enjoy at least one bit of the Capitol without being silently told that no one wanted them here, they heard barely audible, careful steps, and three of them, Silk, Doris, and the young Miss Snow quickly turned their heads. 

“I kept thinking where you went,” a proud voice full of life almost exclaimed. “So, are you also not enjoying the preparations?” 

Lucy Gray, now looking even more gorgeous in her puffy sun-like dress, which made her look like a little girl, than she was on that stage, even with her makeup fading and face hurting from the endless smiles she was giving the “committee” that only came here to pick her project apart. But the sunflowers in her upkeep hair were still fresher than ever, as well as the belt made entirely of actual mayweed around, shining with their white petals. 

“Miss Lucy Gray!”

“Mom!”

A bunch of kids quickly circled the First Lady of Panem, with her planting a soft kiss each smelling like sugar to every single one of them, obviously saving the first and the most special one for her little girl, who looked happier than ever with new company around, with those usually toned down down eyes twinkling like two tiny stars. 

“Did you all also run far away from them? And from your celebration no less?” Lucy Gray let go, finally feeling comfortable to speak freely around the children. 

“M’am, that celebration may be thrown in our honor, but we are certainly the last people Capitol wants to see inside,” Rowan crossed his arms, receiving a supportive bump on the shoulder from Dan.

Lucy Gray did not come empty-handed; as she confided to the children, who started sorting out the fruit she picked up from the Academy banquet, the people there were too much babbling to her liking — of course, this ended up in laughter from all 13, even always serious Silk, Foss and Doris were smiling brightly.

They were asked a lot of questions, as the program’s director, ignoring all of the Capitol’s norms, was sitting on the wet grass between her daughter and Willow, sharing her bunch of grapes with both, asking about the Academy and the impression it made to them.

Casey kept talking about the halls and the decorations of beauty, a thing nonexistent for District 6 that was currently packed with people like herrings in a barrel, Foss as always was quiet, only nodding his head a couple of times of something caught his attention, Jute was blown away by the outfits of the Capitol surrounding her and Dan kept himself on a very tight leash to not accidentally joke about the whole fakeness and tackiness of the city — most of the Rainbow Kids were internally agreeing with him, only keeping their mouths shut out of respect to their director, who while did not become a “second mother”, was someone they worshiped to the ground she walked on. 

Lucy Gray herself didn’t mind that much, even the ignoring was not scaring her. “When I was here for the first time, it took a couple of songs and smiles to win them over — you will do it much faster than I did,” she said, trying to chuckle as if the 10th Hunger Games were some wholesome, funny memory that was appropriate to use an example of something. 

The sun today was relatively hot for a time like this and shining brightly, but the First Lady was not turning away from its warmth — while they were sitting in the shadow of one of the not-so-many trees, hearing the festive music even outside, the Capitol was none of their concerns — Lucy Gray sometimes threw picnics like those after the students were falling on the ground from the number of rehearsals, manner lessons and program study (“for preparation” as many said) they had to do. So even if they were already where they planned to be, nobody wanted to ruin the tradition that formed at the time they knew each other. 

“Did they want anything again?” Philo carefully whispered so nobody would hear anything that was not as pleasant. She can’t ruin the mood, especially not when finally getting something resembling a typical friend group, the very thing she watched Aster have for lots of years.

It could come off as a surprise to many who would kill to take her spot, but it is not always good to be the “Capitol Sweetheart”, especially when you still need to somehow study. 

To lots of Academy students for her status alone, Philomel was unapproachable since the start, and the rest of her age bar groups, even fitting in her social circle, decided to collectively treat her like the celebrity she was. 

“Oh dear butterfly, no,” Lucy Gray embraced her little girl in a light hug, not as a sign of reassurance but because she simply wanted to hug her daughter. “You know those people — their only purpose around here is to suck out the fun of everything, simply because they have no creativity to come up with something on their own.”

She was only teasing, while the image of Livia’s face that reeked of jealousy, Agathe Heines with her pursed duck lips, and Juno Phipps’ who came to the celebration to accompany her mother, all of those women’s sour faces still were clear in her head.

Throughout the years of her moving, the people of the Capitol never let Lucy Gray forget where she came from, still thinking of her as a fun toy Coriolanus will play, break, and abandon in the dust. 

“Of course, I'd rather have him do this than continue putting me through humiliation over and over,” sometimes this thought crossed her mind, but not right now. Now those high-born women were almost forced to listen to her demands and she was about to make the most out of it — connection to the Districts was something that was practically begged to be done and she was still surprised by the fact that she was the first one to do so. 

The Capitol needs to step up. Otherwise, those clueless people’s worst nightmares are about to become a reality.   

After such a long and annoying week when she was completely buried in preparations, the songbird thought she was to be granted at least a bit of peaceful time. Not as a First Lady of Panem, not as a songbird for the guests’ entertainment, but as herself and a mother. Carefully touching the soft grass, feeling the fresh fruit in their throats, and hearing the jolly laughter, without a single care in the world… 

That is what every member of this diverse yet so similar in its circumstances needed and Lucy Gray perhaps was the one who required the warmth of nature and the sun lighting against her dark skin, filling her with warmth of its lights the most out of them. 

Turning her head to feel the sunlight on her face, Lucy Gray carefully stroked Philomel’s shiny curls, while looking at Willow, who allowed Basil to play with one of her multiple hanging down thin dark braids, smiling with her teeth. 

Philomel was watching Doris, who chose to close her eyes as the wind blew her hair, the inseparable Vista and Leona were chuckling with one another and Jute and Casey tried to braid each other’s already messed-up hair.

“Hey, I have an idea — let’s not return to those snobs’ den and their snob food!” Rowan laughed louder at Dan’s sudden declaration, with both quick to receive a joke palm smack on the heads from Silk, who right now was not laughing.

“What?” Leona turned to the boys, while Vista smartly lowered her head, not wanting to engage in this. “I wouldn’t want to eat at the same table as those snobs if they are going to walk all over me and I doubt you want to as well.” 

“Not you too…” Silk pressed his palm against his face in annoyance and the bickering continued until the program’s head herself had to step in and deal with those hot headed four. 

Still, even with those comments, the atmosphere was not ruined. Damn near everyone here hated the Capitol to the bone and Lucy Gray never discouraged them from feeling that way — they are here to promote equality between Panem, not be glorified tributes that prance around the Capitol to please them. 

Most importantly, the kids were happy. 

Everyone was here. Well… Almost everyone.

“Wish Aster could see this. Maybe I would see a smile on his face at least once?” Thought Lucy Gray, swallowing down the stone that formed in her heart from the inner pain that she felt about her second child. 

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“You all got it?”

Aster, biting down on the golden-wrapped stick between his fingers said, syncing letting out a small cloud of smoke with Cyril, who was smirking from ear to ear this entire conversation. 

They, as if he, Iolanthe, and Tertius (who was always responsible for bringing in the stuff) were hiding behind the Academy’s walls, away from everyone’s eyes. The day was slowly wrapping up, but none of them looked any tired — in reverse, Iolanthe was giggling this entire time like a child, waving and kicking her legs as she sat on the staircase railing, an almost finished cigarette in hand.

“We do,” Crane’s smile turned slightly sinister — a good indication for anyone who knew him that it was a sign of either an upcoming prank, or they had to leave the room this instant.

“So paint wouldn’t do?” Tertius leaned forward and lit Iolanthe’s already 3rd deathstick by the time of this hangout. 

The girl only let out a joking laugh on this; she always enjoyed the attention of the opposite sex that she was regularly receiving, but day to day managed to accept it with decency and treat it like fun — maybe that’s why Aster was weirdly fond of her, even if never founding her particularly appealing for his liking.

“It’s the first one — need to be something more creative,” Cyril sat back to the railing by Iolanthe’s side. “So I’m bringing in the barbed wire, you do your part — deal?” 

Waving his long hair, fully colored in deep blue, Tertius happily nodded, looking like the effect of much stronger cigarettes (the rest were convinced that he mixed something there) starting to become noticeable — it was a rarity seeing him not smoking, drinking or dozing on something, so nothing new. 

Aster was convinced that this one wouldn’t even make it to his 25th birthday, but at least now he was harmless as long as kept being his useful, fun self. 

Iolanthe chuckled, being helped get off the railing by Cyril, as their time was ticking away — no doubt that the sweet, pampered girl would prefer to spend it with her friends, as always planning elaborate pranks now they got a whole lot of new targets for them. 

“Do you think some of them have flour inside their bodies? What will happen if we pour some water on them — would they melt?” 

A laugh broke out, with Aster even wiping a tear from his eye, yet still giving a head shake of disapproval. 

“First let’s block their way,” he smirked with a bit of satisfaction. “If none of those idiots get the hint, we can try and melt them like you here suggested Io.”

In Aster’s mind, a couple of meters of barbed wire around their table was more than enough to send the message from the Capitol — most important is that they are going to do it silently, with almost nobody noticing someone is even sending a message.

There was no one better to alert everybody of a collective boycott than Iolanthe and Tertius, with one being just a lousy mouth, running around the walls of the Academy and ready to share everything she sucked in, while the other organized and thrown so many parties that he knew just about anyone and unlike Aster, Canville was not worried at all for his prestige, allowing himself to even talk to scholarship students: second son privileges and zero pressure will do that for you. 

“Just try to not drain them out on the first day — ma still needs this group, you know?”

“Easy here Mr Snow,” Cyril laughed, putting his hand on Aster’s shoulder. “It’s just harmless fun — I’m sure they saw worse back in their home Districts.”

“You got it. Still, serving our Capitol is a priority first, fun second,” he laughed back as if he didn’t mean what he said in full seriousness.

“Oh, and what the Capitol would say when finding us here like this, instead of stabilizing the crowds? I’m sure the indoors are a shitshow now,” Tertius joked, clearly looking high, but this always made him much easier to understand than during parties where he was blackout drunk. 

Aster waited a bit, giving both of his friends a sneaky side-eye look, then relaxing his face, putting on the mask of complete innocence:

“…Nothing.” 

As if he just did not give out his seal of approval for an extremely vile prank to take place, helped Iolanthe get off the railings, slightly coughing while putting out the cigarettes, and still displayed a bright, sunny smile — no doubt he was miles better than any of her peers in replicating niceness for expressions… Maybe that’s why he was never called in as a participating figure in the Academy’s most disastrous pranks and all the glory went to the giggling and gloating Crane? 

The group took off — from the outside it was clear that the party was still going strong and most of the adults were not planning to go anywhere, although there were fewer parked cars around the building.

“Most of the Capitol got nothing but to celebrate forever — many after this nice treat would have to wait at least half of the year before a similar occasion will present itself,” obviously thinking of this, Aster meant those regular people from different industries — to him and his classmates, all doors were open all day every day. 

…Open to so many when lots did not even deserve half of it.   

Tertius left on his own, maybe to throw his face in the blueberry punch and caramel cake once again. Joking last with: “Don’t you dare start your little fun without me,” Aster waved goodbye to Cyril and Iolanthe, who as always were walking hand in hand and now he was left all alone again.

His classmates planned to throw a bit of get-together at night and there was no way he was ever going, so he felt himself being stuck on the Academy’s doorstep like a lost puppy, which was not an image a determined future President should have, even if it lasts only a second.

His plan for the Rainbow Kids was simple — have a deal with the “leader” as advised by his grandfather, all while silently announcing the boycott within the rest — Capitol students didn’t mind much, mostly thinking that someone from the Districts does not deserve to be here and Aster understood that when giving out the idea. That way, none of them would have a choice but to accept his conditions, whatever they may be. 

Going to get Philo and leave earlier as they always did was no option; she was doing her “job” and distracting her would get him in hot water. He truly had nothing to do right now, as chatting with anyone who was not those 3 was a nightmare come to life. 

And if Vanessa Cardew and her damn mother ever appear… The day mood would officially be dead and buried.

As he was observing the people walking around left and right, want to take out a cigarette once again, or at least his bottle of demitol was more and more tempting for him but Aster restrained himself as much as he could — no one ever knew about him smoking and the genetically enhanced blue roses he kept wearing as an accessory were a perfect mask to any strange smell — otherwise, Snow was sure that him publicly smoking like the careless Vanessa, whose reputation was already at rock bottom would have lots of the Academy students clowning on him and his model behavior for certain is going to be nuked.

Aster didn’t want that — all to get the students to admire him and not in a disgusting jealous way. 

Suddenly, he was pulled back to reality, as in a crowd of red suits, a teal shirt flashed through, with an almost deep gold stroke of hair following; really, they certainly stood out and lived to their Rainbow title. But Aster wouldn’t be thinking twice about it if quickly didn’t realise who he was seeing — Doris O’Harrow.

Looks like today decided to bless him at least once in this entirely and all around terrible day. Could an even more perfect chance exist than now? 

After the talk with Strabo Plinth, the heir was determined to find that O’Harrow, who claimed and acted like a figurehead in at least this tiny group and come to some sort of negotiation with her, meaning with the rest of the exchange students; only that he was met with a small problem — the girl simply did not leave the group’s side for the entire damn day!

By the impression she gave him, Doris was alone, predictably and pathetically ignored by the entire Academy, but it didn’t look like she was that bothered by that. Aster quickly slipped through the jelly mass of students, as the ones who recognized Snow in time letting him pass with no problem. 

By the time the girl of District 4 was noticeable, the main crowd was already far away, though Aster still took time to check his surroundings at least 100 times, all to not miss the potential eyes of someone who can rat the Snow heir as someone speaking to the lesser ones.

“Not like I want though. Only for the benefit of the Capitol,” Aster innerly rolled his eyes and clacked his teeth out of annoyance — just why is he always the one dealing with any potential trouble? 

Okay, it is all okay, it’s just part of his training as the future president of Panem. The surroundings are testing him.

Breathing in and out, adjusting his collar, Aster (at least he thought so) masterfully pretended that he saw Doris by complete accident — bless his luck, the girl carried something in her hands, giving him at least some grounds to start the small talk. As he got closer, he realized that the package was filled with separated fruit and meat.

“Stealing from the Capitol, huh,” Aster chuckled, feeling he already got a brief leverage against the District girl. O’Harrow may have noticed his shadow and none of his plans involved creeping on her; she turned to him faster, putting the pack on the ground, quickly taking an almost defensive pose and becoming a barely approachable fortress — well, those never managed to stop a Snow before. 

“You can’t steal the food, you know?” Aster completely ditched any trace of arrogance that Capitolite people felt having it engraved in their genes; instead, he was smiling relatively friendly, though kept a respectable distance — shaking her hand yet again was the last on his list of priorities. 

What he currently needed was to get this fish District girl on his side and for that, Snow had to show her that they were on the same page.

“I haven’t stolen anything — this is a drop of what your guys have eaten there and no one even noticed I took a bit here and there,” Doris was quick to cross her arms, yet her voice remained steady and the posture almost frozen, with very little movements done; what was weird that she barely tried to smile back at him. “It’s not for me either, that’s for all of us — going to throw ourselves an actual feast where our kind is welcome.” 

Just amazing — looks like she has noticed what they are trying to do. 

Not a muscle trembled on Aster’s face when he continued, keeping the control of the conversation tight in his hands.

“Well, you all fell on us like snow on the head,” he chuckled, but Doris seemingly only smiled out of politeness and not to kill the chatting entirely. “Hope you are still enjoying the Capitol; can guarantee that this is common with our people, but they’ll soon get used to it.” 

The girl narrowed her eyes, as Aster stopped smiling, yet not entirely ditching his friendly approach and look, trying to guess what exactly caused Philo to be drawn to this not appealing at all girl, who was the seeming opposite of whatever his sister was standing for…

“Thanks for your concern,” Doris dryly threw out a flat, generic response; it was clear that his Capitol allure did not make any good impression on the new student — yet Aster had no desire to flatter someone like that. 

More weird was that all of her little gang at least didn’t try to make at least a bit of a good impression on the Capitol; every living and breathing human in Panem knows that they are much more drawn towards tributes and not someone who parades their District card around. Looks like this group had yet to learn this; good that Aster was generous with his words and explanations, bad that he was yet again dragged into solving this annoying puzzle with the easiest answer in the world to the easily dumbest people in the world. 

“Just in case you would like some assistance in the future you can always approach your tour guide here… Well, or me.” 

Doris got weirdly quiet for some time after those words, yet didn’t take a step back; only tightly crossed her arms, which could be barely noticeable if it wasn’t for Aster who already learned to read some human movement and facial expressions. 

The silence hung dead in the air, with only the sound of wind moving the tree leaves as their company — the situation was undoubtedly tense and now Aster couldn’t even smile as it would be a very out-of-place thing to do, even for the Capitol. Finally, after greatly boiling Aster’s blood with her quietness, the girl in front of him coughed before talking, carefully and not aggressively moving one of her two grain-colored small pigtails to the front, speaking up in a deep, resonating voice: 

“You didn’t look that happy helping when we first met,” he thought he heard a tiny tongue click, looking at his interlocutor’s long, stretched oval face more intensely, with his dark eyes almost piercing and tearing Doris apart. “…What’s with the change of attitude now?”

“Give them a crumb and they take the whole bread, then demand leftovers,” Aster almost innerly snorted at both her reaction and her choice of words — this girl acted and talked as if she could be even remotely compared to him, like they were equals. 

Despite her polite and stoic facade, Aster could sense her attitude problems from a mile away — she was reeking of desire to show off in front of a Snow heir, to establish her position yet again.

Well too bad for her — this tactic belonged to him since very childhood. 

For politeness Snow waited a bit, imitating the words process, then laughed out loud, covering his mouth and then holding it to his chest, pretending as if he was just told the funniest joke imaginable. 

Doris did not look much impressed, flickering the gaze of her chestnut, almost brightly amber eyes on him. 

“Me? Of course not; hope you didn’t think anything bad about this,” Aster stopped laughing, yet keeping his expression nice enough, with usual wrinkles forming on his cheeks, even though he would have gladly walked away from this chat or never even engaged in it in the first place if only he knew how much of a nightmare talking to this O’Harrow girl was… 

He now for sure needed to talk to Philo about her questionable choice of friends as soon as they got home. 

“Stress, right?” He said again, receiving a slow nod in response. “We all are tired right now… You know, I can be pretty helpful to your cause; no doubt, if your group follows the rules the Capitol laid out for all of you, which for the record usually includes the food, but I don’t want to ruin your day. We have to be partners after all.” 

Partners. As if. Now, Aster was tempted to personally strangle Doris with his bare hands, when she treated him with yet another loop of silence. 

Her face became even more hardened, with her lower lip going downward, eyebrows made a curved shape, staying in this position, as she was deeply drilling back into his eyes. From what she stood on, as if she had written on her face with bold letters, the conversation was tanked then and there, never reaching the surface again. 

Now what he has done wrong? As far as he knows, even this kind of approach from a Capitol citizen to a District one is a huge honor…

The girl from Four looked at him one more time, easing up her “death glare” as Cyril might have called it, and picked back her package in almost complete silence, but at last, she gave something resembling a nice expression back at him.

“I have heard a lot about you, so thanks for the offer,” Doris kept her polite, not too overdone demeanor in check, but for some reason did not try to hide subtle hints in her mannerisms — she moved and talked like an open book barely holding any secrets inside its pages; a surprisingly openly hostile book.

“Heard only nice things I hope,” Aster smiled back at her, as she prepared to walk away. 

Doris stopped in the middle of the leave, yet again fixing her grain like front braids. 

“…Mostly.”

Saying this in the same cut-and-dry manner as before, the District girl fully walked away from Aster without a trace of niceness on her face, while the heir was left feeling tired and confused, exhausted even after such an almost pointless, relatively short chat with the last person he would usually talk to. 

Slowly and nervously brushing through and fixing his deep cocoa waves of hair with his shaking hand, he hid behind a tall bush, barely feeling his feet touching the clean and unnaturally green grass around the Academy. 

That blue rose he was wearing was reeking with its sickly sweet aroma that almost made him nauseous, even though it was still miles better than the disgusting smell of cigarettes, an item so utterly despised by his father. A second passed and the world around started swinging left and right as Aster’s tongue was yet again sprinkled with the toxic liquid inside the brown glass bottle that could fit in his pocket.

Raising his head to the grayish blue sky, the heir’s pupils became bigger, filling his eyes whole and making the entirety pitch black — he was not scared at all, only confused and concerned. Because he knew that since today, his life will never be the same with the bold rainbow ribbon fearlessly wrapping around the great statue of the mighty Capitol. 

Rainbow ribbon and cold, salty sea — that was all Aster Snow had to work with. And there was zero opportunity to fail.   

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As the moon rose in the sky with its light kissing the glorious, pearly white mansion that proudly towered over the city, a miniature figure of a woman walked through the softly lit garden, with only one lantern being noticeable. 

Glam heels were long thrown to the smooth cold grass, but being cold, wet, and barefoot was nothing the woman was not used to; avoiding the rose section like a plague birthplace, she turned to where the only single thing she ever liked in this garden of poison and hypocrisy was located. 

The only thing she loved and a thing he was bound to ruin it all yet again; no happiness was allowed to be spared for her as long as his mood was pure black.

Removing the leaves of the tall bush maze on her way, under the moon and in the center of that green court was standing a greenhouse; white and elegant, the miniature copy of the presidential palace, seemed to be carved by the hand of a sculptor — and inside, the “court members”, blooming and fragile snowdrops were hiding away from cruel nature. 

Currently, it was the first day of spring, so in the wilderness, all of those beautiful flowers already lived their short life under the all-covering cap of snow, but behind that glass, the flowers were allowed to blossom all 365 days of the year.

“I didn’t know you were that brave to return here,” sighing, Lucy Gray could feel her hand being wrapped by another one, much larger and stronger than her own. She tried to look away, but Coriolanus’ deathly cold fingers then touched her lips and brushed her cheek. 

“Be calm, be calm,” she demanded of herself, breathing in his light scent; roses were truly everywhere in her life and there was no escaping from them. 

Lucy Gray arched her neck, looking into his frigid, crystal blue eyes that lost their warmth long ago, if there even was any, and not another fruit of her manic dreams she had in the past. 

“I’m no fool. I know when you want something, you will get it — and I also lived long enough by your side to see what happens with people who refuse you for too long.”

Coriolanus was not caught off guard by her comment; only tried giving his songbird a rose, which she almost threw away as if he was offering her a poisonous snake. Obviously, Snow was offended, but clacking his teeth held in, instead only gripping Lucy Gray’s hand tighter. 

“Want to go inside? I’m sure you are cold,” he noted on her feet, but the woman only brushed him off, turning her head away as her yellow feather earrings caught the wind and moved from it — the large sunflowers, still not taken out of her up high combed hair was shining warmly in the blue night light; it was clear that even the sight of those ‘peasant’ field flower intruding in his gorgeous garden irritated him to no end.

…This was one of the two exact reasons why Lucy Gray didn’t take them out.

“No,” she blurted, looking down as if she was about to fall. “Despite the less-than-appealing analogy of the flowers, I am still weirdly attached to those pretty little things, so I am not about to let you ruin this for me.”

Her legs were freezing when they both continued standing at the same spot, either admiring either the moon or the surroundings; it was supposed to be a place of both peace and pride for Coriolanus, yet he never felt more trapped inside something than now; even the utterly horrible time in District 12 that he was forced to spend there was child’s play — at least then, there was hope. 

There was innocence and genuine love that filled his heart; currently, even with Lucy Gray staying as near as she possibly could, there was nothing but rotting death in the air between them. 

Coriolanus held onto her shoulder, slowly inhaling the sweetness of sugar from his wife — beautiful and sweet, charming and dangerous. She didn’t remove his hand from her body, yet it felt like they were separated by a 6-inch wide wall, even if she was here, by his side as she should — standing in that sunshine-like, perfectly tailored dress that was oh so reminiscent of her performance outfits; a call from the past where the now First Lady of Panem was a nobody, prancing around the stage in the Hob, showing off her voice all for a toss of a coin. 

“If only you weren’t that stubborn, everything would have already sorted itself out,” he wrapped his hand around her waist pressing her against his body to feel her warmth, and kept slowly stroking her shoulder, sometimes touching the silky fabric of the dress and Lucy Gray was humming a melody under her nose without any words — which one of her masterpieces was it now, Coriolanus couldn’t guess. “I only need your single word and I will move mountains for you. Please, Lucy Gray.” 

It felt as if he, the President of Panem, was begging like the starving little fool he once was, living a lie and without a dime to his name. But he could not deal with the silence, the separation, and the constant coldness of his bed, with the regular headaches the whole night and poor sleep being the spoiled cherry on top. Coriolanus sometimes toyed with the idea of sending Lucy Gray away for her horrific behavior and her coldness, only to realize that there was no way in hell he would ever do this. 

This would be equal to not even shooting himself in the foot, after doing this he might as well stick his head in a noose — this will only get Lucy Gray what she now longs for, her damned freedom while all he would be left with pieces of his heart that could never be glued together. She was his and his alone, a part of his soul that could not be ripped out, without whom he couldn’t breathe. 

A moment of peace.  

That is what they had right now, in this deep night garden which was his pride — it was filled with white roses Coriolanus adored to insanity, but he also made space to build this tiny greenhouse in honor of his beautiful Lucy Gray, all to keep the flowers she adored always accessible to her. 

When she told him that her favorites were sunflowers and snowdrops, he was close to scoffing — imagine liking sunflowers, the dusty field things with thick and prickly to touch stems over roses! 

Snowdrops on the other hand were a perfect gift — rare to find and fragile to touch, just like her. And just like those flowers, she needed to be locked up and restrained, all for her safety of course…

“Just come back,” he planted a soft kiss on Lucy Gray’s head, and that caused her to slightly jerk up, displaying some bit of reaction on that porcelain face. 

“…Thank you,” a slow murmur escaped Lucy Gray’s mouth. “Thank you for not humiliating me by making me return here, you neither  humiliated my students by throwing them in a cattle car — they are good kids, even if you clearly wanted to pull a power trip to the Capitol to mock them, to make them learn their place.”

What. 

She. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Him.

Coriolanus felt as if he was beaten to a pulp over and over again and even this would hurt much less than Lucy Gray’s hurtful, piercingly dismissive words. 

“Lucy Gray has a marriage and two kids inside a family that is held by old sweet nothings that we whispered to one another on that lake back in Twelve,” Snow had no idea how he didn’t yank Lucy Gray from the grass then and there. “I am trying to stitch out the pieces and here is she, giving the time of day to her District pick of the litter…” 

The president of Panem held in some words and sounds of brewing jealousy that started to cloud his mind, he clasped his large hands around Lucy Gray’s sticks of arms, putting her in front of himself — this move left a terrified mark on the woman’s face and she was frozen for a moment, with her brown eyes widening and thin mouth painted in bright red lipstick like that one she was wearing on her Reaping, turned into a thinly stretched line.

“Don’t you dare to overstep. Here is a test for you my dear,” that is what Lucy Gray was silently saying if only eyes could talk. 

Coriolanus did not make the same mistake twice — he stayed still, before taking his woman’s chin, raising her head to look at him; the same completely fearless, filled with fire and passion look was deeply engraved on her face.

She then moved her arms, trying to free herself — pointless. 

“Let go of me. Now, Coriolanus,” the woman commanded, talking to the president of Panem like he was a mere milk boy who delivered spoiled products, with her head held high.

He didn’t let go of her, but his grip became slightly more relaxed — Snow also took this into account; the songbird would certainly use any given moment to point out his “presidential cruelty” as she called it, all to use it as yet another reason to not return to the palace, to him where she belongs. 

Breathing in and out Coriolanus then lowered his head, so the foreheads of the “most powerful couple of Panem”, but in actuality two broken people with even more broken union touched each other. It was a change of tactics, yet it was also an almost cry for affection, that desperate begging to return everything the way it was.

Only Lucy Gray could identify a broken thing when she saw one. This knot-tie was one of those things, with one person pulling as hard away as they possibly could, yet the second one tied himself to a boulder — impossible to separate unless tearing the other to shreds. 

Lowering his head more, she then could feel him on her neck; his breath was warm, almost hot even, impatient — surely he was hurt.

“Do not play with me, Lucy Gray,” Coriolanus whispered, hiding his offense in her sweet-smelling curls like he always did. “Stop it right now with all of your parading around of your kind heart — we both know that it isn’t true and how needlessly cruel you are.”

Lucy Gray closed her eyes as his lips touched her neck, going down to her collarbone — he was restraining himself as much as he could, so the “least” as he described what she could allow him was this; her hand caressed the air, also ending up on his cheek — Coriolanus even slightly smiled when the woman touched just about everywhere on his face, only when he rose up it was evident that his smile didn’t reach his snake-like cold eyes. 

“Oh well, isn’t it the consequences of your actions, my dear?” She chuckled, all while innerly sensing the devious atmosphere around herself; she needs to stay still and strong as this is what President Snow wants — to crush her like a mindless bug on his way and then lock up whatever jelly leaking remains he will get his hands on. “I told you once about my position towards trust, but nobody listened to me — you reap what you sow, Coriolanus.” 

With the shadow of darkness flickering in his eyes, he took a hold of her chin yet again. The nauseating reek of roses got into her nose, making her feel close to throwing up. 

“Lucy Gray looks like you are forgetting yourself,” his tone changed to whisper, with the trees and light wind becoming quiet so nothing could disturb the talk of the Snow couple. 

She didn’t look moved by his words, only noticed how utterly unhinged, insane his face was at this moment like he was tearing apart his own flesh, each time biting in it with bloodied teeth. A faint smile visited his face as Coriolanus hardened the grip on Lucy Gray, holding her in one position, making it impossible for her to turn away from him. 

“I’m not,” her voice was nothing more than a shadow of itself when she decided to play the game and looked him straight in the eyes. “Trust me Coriolanus, I will never forget who I am — a clowness who sang dumb songs about dumb men on a faraway District stage in a rainbow dress, whose life is no more valuable than the life of a cockroach or even less.”

Now that was the final nail in the coffin of any normal talking. Coriolanus was done and he was ready to let Lucy Gray know this. 

“It was you who killed us. So do not be surprised when I respond,” he thought and the words that came out of his mouth had frozen the world. 

“This is where you are mistaken; your life is much more valuable than any of those people — doesn’t mean that the rubbish you brought to the city of my dreams has the same value,” pure cruelty was pouring out and all the woman could think of is staying still, staying strong and not let him know how much he was hurtful to only towards the Districts, but also to her, the sweet memories of the Covey… “I have plans for this fun project of yours, but those children are not welcome in the Capitol and you know that — their safety is in your hands, and without your protection and playing your cards right… Let me just say nobody who walks on this ground will care about a couple of District children’s disappearance.”

Now he has done it. Tears streamed down Lucy Gray’s face as the realization slowly began to sink in — she had made a colossal mistake, lured the students that she loved to death into Coriolanus’ trap by promising protection and with a feeling that it was possible to save at least someone from the barbarity that was the Hunger Games. And she only made everything worse. 

He was waiting for her answer or at least a nod, acknowledging his words — the hatred that filled Lucy Gray’s once pure heart was unmatched for, with her soul becoming even more pitch black than her husband’s; golden eyeshadow started streaming down her cheeks, mixed with the black mascara, ruining her beautiful face, but Coriolanus did not care about it.

Snow caught her, broke her legs, tore out her wings, and ripped out her voice throwing her in the cage that he called “love” — does this man even know what love is at that point?

Breathing, Lucy Gray was gasping for air and wondering how did she not collapse on the floor then and there, asking only one question:

“Those are only youths Coriolanus — why torment them? I rather have you mutilate me alive like you do with all of those poor Capitol traitors in that well-hidden room of torture that you love so much…”

He wiped her leaking mascara with his suit’s sleeve, not even paying attention to the first-class blue fabric being stained. His eyes also filled with small tears, although he did not let them flow like she did; the definition of ice and snow. 

“I don’t want to kill them, I wouldn’t even touch them if you do what I say, Lucy Gray,” he relaxed his grip and the First Lady thanked for her self-control to not immediately smack him across the face. “…I just want you back. I just want us back, for things to return to the way it was before.”

Snow’s voice trembled for a second and Lucy Gray perfectly understood what would happen should she not accept his terms, she would receive 12 cut fingers under her hotel room in less than a week — it wouldn’t be anything unusual for President Snow to do.

So when she nodded in agreement, the woman could feel Coriolanus kissing her on the forehead and then pulling one of the sunflowers out of her hair; the hairstyle quickly fell apart, with the curls falling and embracing her shoulders — he picked a small, delicate white rose and stuck it in the place where the field flower once was. Attempted to do the same to the other one, but was blocked by Lucy Gray’s slow move of hand that almost screamed defeat: “You won this. Let me keep at least a small part of what used to be me.”

As he embraced her in his arms with her empty gaze falling on the murk that was the snowdrop greenhouse, all Lucy Gray could think about was her previous naivety — how could she miss all of this, why didn’t she listen to anyone who tried to warn her? Now she was forever trapped, with a man who loved too much to let her go, willing to not step over but to trample the morals if it only meant for his Lucy Gray to stay with him forever.

And when it came time to touch and feel her hair, trying to get back the same feelings that filled the beautiful, colorful penthouse of the Snow family, Coriolanus was now actually crying. 

“Good,” he muttered, swallowing down his years of inner pain. 

Lucy Gray didn’t look at him. She was looking at the snowdrops.

Chapter Text

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Twelve years ago, the penthouse of the Snow family

Holding one brush in her teeth and the second in her hand, Lucy Gray deftly walked around, well more like danced around the three almost empty buckets of slightly diluted paint, adding a small touch here and there to the almost completed, large pattern on the wall. 

Crossing her arms and humming a perky song under her breath, she took a few steps back, smiling from ear to ear and admiring her work. 

“A little birdie!” Almost dragging his little sister, only wearing a long blue pajama shirt, Aster hobbled into the living room, pointing his plump palm at the drawing, while dragging his sister with him as she couldn’t stop laughing — all of this was only a funny game for her.

“Birdie, birde!” Echoing his words, Philo, slightly stumbling and mostly crawling on all fours, tried to touch the orange tail of the beautiful drawn creature that seemed to be made of pure, bright golden flames but Lucy Gray promptly and laughingly picked up her daughter in her arms, softly cradling her and carefully moving her hands around so the girl’s simple dress that she was put in for this exact occasion wouldn’t catch any dirt from the paint. 

Painting has been one of Lucy Gray’s passions for as long she could remember: the richer kids in District 12 drawing with actual colorful paint from time to time when she had no other choice but to watch them from afar, hoping that this wouldn’t earn her a hit on the head from those kids’ parents all of whom always looked down on her, Covey scrambling from mother nature to scramble some color for their decor, all for mere seconds of happiness in that dull place — color was their only friend throughout their years together in that shack of a house they once lived in.

And looking at her friend’s struggles, homesickness, and relatively recent events, where she had to be pulled out with the full force of both Tigris and Coriolanus, her now officially best friend decided that enough was enough. Two young women since then spent every free minute from their jobs, evening club performances, and taking care of kids on their hobbies; surprisingly, Tigris turned out to be a stellar teacher, helping Lucy Gray organize her mindless paint smearing into something bearable to look at, showing that she was not working as a designer and training to become a stylist all because of her loud family name. So after two long months had passed, today the relatively new main lady of the house, taking advantage of her husband's absence from the very early morning got up when the sun was barely shining, grabbed all of the spare change she earned on her club performances all on her own and came back home with buckets of fresh paint in tow. 

The old living room of the penthouse had been dying for a long time and they had resurrected it themselves only two weeks ago. But a new problem arose — Coriolanus, quite seriously, assured her that the living room did not need additional improvement at all: 

"Trust me, it’s good as it is!" he repeated persistently when even on the boring gray walls pieces of plaster were visible. The color gray was driving her insane (which was quite ironic, considering her name), because while she was born with it under the stars, it was also the color of the Peacekeepers, which certainly did not bring back any pleasant memories.

Peacekeepers. Their uniforms, District 12. The cruel and needless execution of Sejanus Plinth and the potentially impending execution of Coryo. Their pathetic attempt to escape, and then a shameful return, right back into the clutches of these gray military monsters... Coriolanus still managed to overcome this internal hostility, but she was not. 

Therefore, as soon as the door slammed shut and the last goodbye kiss was given, the young woman, as if charged by the rays of the bright slightly cold Panem sun, got down to business: they already had a quarter of the area decorated in this way, which led to endless bickering between her and her Capitol darling. And to Lucy Gray's credit, it was safe to say that she always won these battles.

Bickering even the slightest was always a huge thing to accept as they had to always be on the same page no matter the struggles, but now from their house, one could understand that art and beauty rules here. 

Their children must see bright colors around them every day, not the terrible dullness and hunger in which, in his own words, her dear Coriolanus grew up. After many talks like this, he finally caved, allowing Lucy Gray to paint the walls — maybe he would have preferred to just make everything one tone, of colors like dark blue, white, or black, but since he left her artistic self in charge of it, his wife had other plans.

She spent over an hour planning and drawing out the contours to paint on, she started from what her kids called a “birdie” — while it was one, Lucy Gray called it a phoenix, a mythical creature from the times before the Dark Days, something that Coriolanus told her about once and she immediately fell in love with that tale of a bird on fire that is constantly burning itself up to continue its cycle of rebirth. 

“Wish those phoenixes existed in real life,” she once told Coriolanus, who at that moment put her head on his lap and stroked her bare leg, while holding out the book for them both to see and admire; the art she just made was an inspiration from the descriptions from the very same book. 

The first piece took up almost all of the one of 4 walls, while the other 3 were planned to be turned into a different thing each. 

"It's all okay — he'll like this one, I'm sure!" Lucy Gray thought with an innocent and at the same time proud smile, all while pulling out of her son's mouth a paintbrush, that he somehow managed to smuggle for himself — just their luck that there was no fresh paint on it!

After some head scratching on the problem and attempting to get Aster to spit out the thing, the young woman was failing over and over again; he clasped his teeth as if the last candy left in the Snow family house was in that mouth — he for sure thought it was something of fun to do. Little Philo, thinking it was some kind of funny game, following her brother’s lead, started clapping and dancing, trying to not hit the buckets full of paint while the color on the walls almost reflected on the little girl’s face, lighting up her golden hair and funnily moving with her dress as she was prancing around her stubborn brother and mother, who after some time was done with the kid’s misbehavior.

“Aster, spit it out this instant,” Lucy Gray sounded cheeky, unlike the usual parent that reprimands their children, having a huge grin on her face that almost warned the child of the upcoming punishment if he wouldn’t obey her right away — well, the fearless boy didn’t.

Her grin became bigger. At lightning speed, Lucy Gray took Aster, who was asking for it, and turned her son upside down, shaking him like he was a dusty carpet that needed to be cleaned. All hell broke loose when the boy opened his mouth to yell out and the brush flew out of it immediately, but his mother did not put him back right away as she should have been, so while chuckling Lucy Gray also had to bear the small yells of protest: “Ma! Ma, no! Sorry!” 

Back when her dear cousin Maude Ivory was only a small bebe, all of Covey liked to do this to her instead of “proper” punishment and it always ended in Lucy Gray, the little girl, and Barb Azure lying in the warm grass of District 12 on their backs, chuckling and laughing. Each time after such an incident the reason for the punishment quickly became history and the lesson for misbehavior every time turned into a game for the three, who were close to each other like nobody else.

They were a family, had one heart and soul for 3 bodies, living and breathing flowers and music. 

Oh, my poor dears. Oh Maude Ivory, would I trade all of this shiny glitter of the Capitol to have you here with me, painting and hearing your laugh that is ringing like small bells, thought Lucy Gray finally letting Aster back on his feet. 

To the boy’s credit, he quickly took Philo to the nearest corner and they kept silent, only watching the beautiful hand swiftly touching the once boring-to-death walls, and with each touch, it felt like the building was starting to breathe for the first time. Once great, then destroyed, left to rot and now started being rebuilt… This was one funny analogy of Lucy Gray’s own life. 

She dedicated over 6 hours for painting, only managing to almost finish the second wall, the one she planned to turn into a forest — the forest that Covey loved so much and where she and Coriolanus spent their most innocent-filled days. 

The kids today were angels coming from the sky as all this time, they kept to themselves only occasionally admiring the walls; their eyes, especially the one of Aster’s who always loved color were as wide as two suns, as a room they have grown to see either ruined or dull changed in only one day and became completely unrecognizable. 

“Pretty. Pretty, Philo,” Aster whispered to his sister while she was sitting on the floor and restrained her tiny hand from touching the relatively new painted bright orange bird on the wall. She nodded and clumsily wandered off to hug her mother about the hundredth time in this day and no matter how often she did it or how tired to death Lucy Gray was, having to balance the painting and the homemaking at the same time. 

While Coriolanus was “slaving off” in both the University and his job (which one is it he never told her still, only the very fact that it has to do something with his teacher Dr. Gaul, who Lucy Gray despised with every fiber of her being), she went to her work at nights, performing in whatever club that accepted her background. 

Neither she nor him were fans of this arrangement, but hey money is money and to the woman, anything was better than starving back in District 12 or hearing the stories of the Dark Days inside the Capitol. 

“No of us are going to starve. I promised Coryo and you two a life full of color when I went to this city of glitter and nightmares and this promise will be fulfilled, no matter what anyone else would say,” a thought staying in Lucy Gray's brain as she, threw away all the tiredness first took Aster in her hands and rode him like a flying hovercraft. Soon after Philo asked to do the same, constantly tugging on her mother’s violet-colored, worn-out old dress; the kids were small by comparison to the other Capitol offsprings, yet holding them both was a true challenge for the songbird, who herself was not the best built for this. 

In the end, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered when Lucy Gray was happy. 

She was still twirling around the freshly painted room, barely balancing with two kids in tow, and with every spin, every look she gave her creation, the smile on her face was becoming bigger. Holding her children close to her heart always calmed the woman down and this day was a special one.

As if she was back in Twelve, back in her shack with Covey, when they had nothing on them but some silly folk songs and mockingjays. Suddenly, followed by a protective grip of two big hands on her shoulders from behind, Lucy Gray heard both a stern and at the same time somewhat affectionate voice: 

“Woah! Don’t fall here… And is that paint?” 

Coriolanus could barely sustain the weight of his tiny, yet precious family and clasped his hands around Lucy Gray’s body while the kids clung to their mother, carefully led her away while looking at her beautiful smile that became much softer when she saw him being their protector yet again. 

He came back from work shift only a minute ago and when noticing that nobody came to greet him, moved further to the sounds of laughter coming from an empty living room, meanwhile noticing the couch, the only interior item that even was there, put in the corridor. 

“My father is spinning in his grave,” were the first thoughts that crossed his mind when he saw what his darling precious wife had done to the family penthouse of Snow.

Firstly, Coriolanus got heated up; not every day you return from a tough day with a tired body and boiled head, expecting some crumbs of peaceful sleep and then seeing that everything has become different, completely out of control. What a disgrace that was, seeing that it happened to his house of all in the Capitol, having to endure those ridiculous patterns on the walls…

Yet as soon as he held his Lucy Gray close to himself, all those unpleasant thoughts were almost pushed to the side, crushed with a sore weight of sweetness that came from the songbird by her presence alone. 

She, raising up her pretty head, let Coryo admire her tired, paint-stained at some places face before he gently ran over her silky hair that was barely braided in a small curly ponytail and thrown to the side. Still with the kids in her arms, Lucy Gray tried to get on her toes to give him a kiss, yet Snow was much faster, as always kissing firstly her hand, then feeling the hot, sugar-flavored, and gentle touch of her lips.

If he was completely honest, when having Lucy Gray so close, Coryo had legitimately forgotten all about the annoyance that overtook him seeing his family home being ruined.

“Now this is her home too. But she better not overdo whatever genius ideas she might have — I don’t want this damn trash pile waste of Panem space on my walls,” obviously Coriolanus thought about District 12 when his eyes fell on the most recently painted wall. 

Noticing that Lucy Gray is struggling with the two kids, he quickly picked up Philo from her arms, planting a kiss on both his favorite girl’s heads and noticing how proud and beaming his dear was.

“Thought I can work smartly with my free time today,” the songbird’s voice sounded while well pleased with herself not gloating at all, as if signaling her good intentions with this brief moment of creativity since the beginning. “What do you think, what do you think, Coryo?” 

"As far as I can see, you'll never stop..." he looked at his triumphant wife, involuntarily running his hand through her curls and Lucy Gray laughed, stroking his arm in response. Aster, comfortably so clinging onto his mother, extended his tiny hand to him and Snow held it tight, touching his son’s cheek that was covered in freckles and looking inside the eyes that were so clearly Lucy Gray’s that he always found himself lost in those also.

This one also belonged to him. His children. His family.

"...At this rate, the entire penthouse will turn into a coloring book that can be found at cheap stores," even though Coriolanus started to realize that he was not the biggest fan of these drawings that dazzled his eyes, he could not help but recognize his wife's fantastic skill. Lucy Gray painted as beautifully as she was singing, putting her soul into every stroke of her paintbrush, clearly burning with passion for her artistic cause.

Still keeping a steady grip on his little angel’s body, Snow approached the wall on the right, which looked like it was the most recently painted out of the two. 

While the first one had a bird with flaming feathers, so beautiful that it made him close his eyes, the one father and daughter were observing was different: trees, trees, and more trees everywhere, richly colored and made to look five times more beautiful than those horrid forests in District 12 would ever be. 

It felt as if her fantasy about what kind of country Panem and 12 could have been coming to life and Coriolanus’ eyes fixated on the small black dots that were drawn flying around that forest of hers; if his brain doesn’t play him, it was those exact birds he despised so much, those damn mockingjays that ruined more than one date with his songbird and more than 2 nights of sleep for him back to the days when he was a Peacekeeper.

“What kind of a bird market is that? Looks like Lucy Gray is adamant to put our worst time ever on display in front of others and our kids… At least we are out of there for good,” he turned to Lucy Gray who kept waiting for feedback, as she clearly understood his briefly thrown phrase: “Do whatever, you are the artist here” wrong. Yet, no matter how much Coriolanus wanted to stay annoyed at this, the soft touch of his wife’s hand that wrapped around his arm as their children also held onto each other no matter the distance, all of this was pulling him out of this state again and again.

One wouldn’t lie, it felt relatively good — Coriolanus couldn’t believe that once, a brief “plan” that popped up in his head, to marry rich and live a dull life with no love inside his heart belonged to him. No way, this family is his and he wouldn’t trade them for anything. 

For over 10 years he was robbed of this familiar warmth and the feelings of security inside this house, so now he will enjoy every living second of it. He deserves it, he needs it, so he is going to stay with them right now.

Turning his head and stroking Philo’s golden locks, Snow pushed deep any of his upcoming words of criticism, only focusing on admiring Lucy Gray’s look — her ability to change over one hundred masks in her life was while scary, still was something coming from a completely different world. To everyone, she was whoever she presented herself to be, a performer and artist, yet only he was the single person in this city who knew the real Lucy Gray, completely raw and without any lies on his face. 

“It is breathtaking,” he smiled at her, softly putting Philomel down. His wife did the same with Aster and while the kids quickly walked close to each other, never letting their tiny hands separate for more than a minute, Lucy Gray quickly, almost jumping, grabbed Coriolanus’ hand as she was looking at him with huge, sparkling eyes. “Looks like Twelve…” 

Happily nodding back to his words, she led him to the center of the room, babbling about the future renovations she wanted to do, also constantly reminding him that she hadn’t taken a dime of “his” money, claiming that she had stolen nothing and Coriolanus with similar pressing responded that in this family there was no “his money” or “her money”, even if he appreciated that she still considered his feelings. 

After he felt tired to death when having to spend his whole day either surviving through the university lectures, all of which he was doing for a prestigious diploma, and then having to bear listening to his “coworkers” if those people can even be called that, Coryo wanted nothing more than to quietly lie down, obviously with Lucy Gray by his side.

Yes, paintings, yes, pretty. Yet he was too damn tired to care. 

And yet, by the careful steps she took and with an innocent look she gave out, his dear wife had other plans with the way her tight grip on both his hand and the paintbrush was obvious to anyone who saw more than 3 humans in their life; the kids also looked quite impatient yet kept their mouths shut which quickly tickled Coriolanus’ nerves. Not even a minute passed before the woman talked, almost carelessly revealing her little plan:

“By the way, you are just so on time, Coryo — it was impossible to reach the ceiling there to draw the sun: even with the stairs, imagine!”

Oh lord, no. Anything but this. He wanted to cut off any next word, immediately understanding where Lucy Gray was leading to. 

"I can't do it as you do, and everyone knows that my hands are growing out of all the wrong places," it took him a tremendous amount of courage to say out loud that he was bad at something, yet his songbird yet again acted unbothered about it. She, while slightly teasing her Capitol boy with a rose, has never been so hurtful to him as she was to other ones who dared to have songs written about them.

Breathing in, Coriolanus was already prepared to leave and explain his, when Lucy Gray half jumped on his back like a mongoose, holding her stick-like warm heating arms wrapped around his neck. He almost fell back, barely holding his balance and trying not to throw off the fragile and small figure, who meanwhile was laughing like one hundred ringing bells.

The children, seeing their mom so happy and their dad caught off guard, realizing that they potentially could spend more time together as a family, also surrounded their parents and began to squeal: 

"Dad, daddy, can we paint together?" 

“Just one time, papa please!” 

“Let's draw!!!” Aster hugged his leg, even though normally he wouldn’t have dreamed of doing that. 

At that second, Coriolanus cursed everything out — his family, while being the most prized possession that he ever had, was also the only weakness he allowed himself to have, and refusing them with such an “easy” thingy was out of the question. 

Yet on the other hand, he was tired and he couldn’t paint at all to save his life. All cards were against him at that very moment, may it all burn to ash; did Lucy Gray want to humiliate him that badly in front of their children?

“Have you three conspired all of this?!" he muttered, trying to gently free himself from his thin, but still very heavy wife. Yet, as soon as she started with her acts, this was the end of his resistance.

Lucy Gray, smiling like the brightest star in the world, caressed his shirt with her nose, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, touching from above the neck to the shoulder with her warm lips multiple times, as her love slowly cloaked him like a soft blanket that smelled like sugar. She loved to call this her “love language”, yet to Coriolanus even this always looked like emotional toying and blackmail, as if she was trying to physically melt his heart, likely nodding to his surname — well, it always worked on him without fail.   

"You are on it again…" he groaned, giving in, burying his nose in her licorice hair, inhaling the sweet scent emanating from it. May all of them be damned, why is it constantly so hard to refuse whatever their demand is?!

"Good, it looks like the news about the salary increase is postponed and I can kiss my rest time goodbye," while scolding himself for yet another, unacceptable manifestation of silliness, the man reluctantly hobbled to the bedroom to change. 

Lucy Gray victoriously lifted her head up and as he left, he did not even notice how she covered her mouth from laughter and brought her finger to her lips so that the children would not give her away — Coriolanus, without even realizing it had stepped into the red paint and was now leaving the most amusing patterns all over the floor. Oops?

"Let's leave it like this, I wash all of it later and he wouldn't even notice," Lucy Gray thought, almost choking from her stifled laughter.

For Coryo, working with a paintbrush was uncomfortable, new, and difficult, as he also had to balance on the damn ladder, praying to anyone who would listen so he wouldn’t fall to his leg or arm breaking in half. 

Yet lucky for him at the same time, the “painter” turned out to be the most patient teacher in the world, gently guiding his hand with her gentle: "No, Coryo, not like this," constantly fixing his hand position and leading him to perfection just as much as she always led him out of his near-constant nightmares.

Eventually, Snow got the hang of it after about an hour, even if (much to his chagrin) he wasn't as good as she was. Philo and Aster insisted on painting with their parents, too, so they had to find the lower, partially painted areas so they could play around with the wall. 

"It's horrible. My two-year-old holds a paintbrush better than me," he laughed, about the 100th time kissing the head of his blue-eyed, curly-haired treasure. 

But despite the hardship and mild annoyance that he had to sacrifice his precious rest over something as silly as that, there was nothing he would trade the smiles of his family that surrounded him now — Coryo finished with the sun and showed it to his family, proudly accepting compliments and kisses from his wife that he accepted with no second thoughts, feeling genuinely proud of himself as Aster looked at him with pure admiration in those dark eyes, that were twinkling in the same manner as Lucy Gray’s did. 

This activity didn’t turn out to be as humiliating or horrible as one would expect and actually, the opposite thing happened — Snow could feel his soul being fed praise and his heart filled with happiness; Lucy Gray herself, almost throwing away her paintbrush she was just holding, luckily this time, her husband was fast with catching it; she fell in the stage of euphoria, raising her hands up and starting to dance the very same singular piece of the folk dancing that he saw her perform back in Twelve. 

Lucy Gray never wanted to let go of her Covey roots and made sure of it with this dance, while Coriolanus was eating every inch of her body with his eyes, as he stood with crossed arms and trying to hold off a smile.

Yes, he knew exactly why she was so manic, yet she did her best to hold it, to smile and be happy. He was the one who kept her normal and she did all of this for him, Aster and Philomel, all so the kids grow up in a full, happy house. If there was a need to sacrifice the elegance of the penthouse to appease her, he would do that in a heartbeat — anyone would rather prefer seeing Lucy Gray paint than to hear the quiet weeping in the corner for an entire year. 

Coriolanus breathed in and took a couple of steps forward, with his children silently watching; first took her hand and kissed it so Lucy Gray opened her eyes and smiled back, then slowly put his hand on her hip. 

“Mr. Snow, would you like to?” she bowed with a small hint of sarcasm in her voice, yet still addressing him with all of the possible respect. 

He nodded in silence, muttering “Yes, Lady Snow” under his breath, savouring each and every letter of it — he swore to himself that he could never get tired of calling her that, as she was the most deserving of carrying this surname. Deep down inside he still couldn't believe that everything around him was real, especially Lucy Gray: free from the Districts, gentle, loving, recovering, and most importantly his.

The lovesick Snow held his rainbow bird close to his chest, as they slowly moved inside the freshly half-painted living room, with the buckets around creating a mess and the kids starting to attempt to replicate their dancing. 

The woman was slowly humming a song while trying her best to smile — their dance was not perfect, they were both tired, and neither of them practiced for anything; Lucy Gray’s dress had stains of paint in some places, luckily it was one of the oldest ones that was falling apart with its fabric drying up and Coriolanus’ boots were stained with paint, unbeknownst to him. Everything was pure chaos yet this chaos, at least to Lucy Gray herself, somehow felt right. Aster and Philomel watched the slow and viscous like honey dance of their parents, fascinated and were either trying to repeat or abandoned the idea altogether, preferring to just watch. 

Lucy Gray sang much quieter now, pressing close to Coriolanus, while on the floor from their shoes stained with paint, a beautiful, intertwined pattern of red and orange colors started to appear — it was even better than whatever the previous one they had. 

"I got a bonus today," he prepared to talk about work matters right in the middle of their dance, but Lucy Gray swiftly covered his mouth with her hand. 

"Coryo,” her voice yet again felt similar to honey, ditching any roughness she loved to apply all to sound tough. "Let's forget about money for a little while and just... Be ourselves." 

Her hand ended up on his cheek and he nodded almost imperceptibly — that always managed to shut him up real quick. The couple was moving slowly, and their splayed arms intertwined with each other. 

Lucy Gray's melody echoed wordlessly in their hearts, while they were surrounded by the forest, some silhouettes of faraway mountains, the small figures of people dancing in a circle with mockingjays hovering above them, and a huge, flaming bird drawn on another wall watching over them. 

Coriolanus, now paying much more attention to it, started to think that Lucy Gray, creating this bird and drawing out every single one of its bright feathers was drawing no one other but herself. 

And that is exactly how he saw her. Pressing her tightly to himself, Snow felt how much easier it became for him to breathe, while a smile crawled across his face. Now, he did hold back that smile, as he usually would have done. 

From behind, he heard children's sighs and claps — Aster and Philomel were still watching their little performance wide-eyed like they were in a theater. 

Much to his unhappiness, Lucy Gray finally tore herself away from her husband's chest, allowing herself to be twirled around by him one last time and then bowed, as if finishing her program on a stage. She was truly a born actress. 

Coriolanus himself was not as stage-trained or had the performer spirit, so instead of bowing, he stood still like an oak log, causing some barely noticeable laughs around.

"I want to love like that too..." Philomel gushed dreamily, looking at her sincerely happy parents. 

Her father, hearing it, then almost ran up to his little princess and threw her into the air, kissing the girl on her tiny pinkish nose several times, smiling from ear to ear.

“You will find it, baby. You will,” he then proudly glanced at his wife, who at that time was busy laughing with Aster: the little devil had finally gotten his hands on a fresh paintbrush — although he didn't put it in his mouth, there was still a noticeably big green blotch on his left cheek and he was laughing, clearly happy about the mess he just created. 

Before Coriolanus could have a chance to complain about this, Lucy Gray softly put her hand on his shoulder and made a couple of steps towards Aster — she didn’t scold him or scream, instead put two of her fingers in green and orange paint, drawing on both of her cheeks to match with him. 

“Don’t put this into your mouth and we are good. Got it?” the songbird lowered her head and Aster nodded in agreement. 

“Okay, ma! You look so pretty…” he stretched out his words and Lucy Gray kissed the top of his head, turning and facing Coriolanus with a look of pure bliss and joy.

“Isn't it lovely? I always dreamed of painting myself with paint when I was a child!”

“Yes…”

Coryo was about to whisper to Philo that she should never do that, but apparently, she liked it too. 

What chaos is this — they are as always uncontrollable, he thought but still allowed this moment of silliness to happen, as it was not something to be wary of, or something that he had to stop; if Lucy Gray desires, she can have that… Or ruin the walls of their house, at least it was pretty enough and the kids were happy — on the other hand, he got a dance and a feeling of fulfillment out of it. 

A day special enough that it deserved to be captured — where was that old camera again? 

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The evening seemed to come after an eternity — the family had been messing around with the paint for so long that the entire penthouse was reeking of paint by the time it was decided that today was enough and the windows had to be opened everywhere. The house quickly became cold, so Lucy Gray had to go get warm blankets.

Deep inside, Coriolanus kept wincing, muttering that it wasn't worth it, "money was wasted" and in general, he didn't like the drawings at all... But it was worth seeing Lucy Gray's eyes sparkle for even a second, remembering their magical dance surrounded by such unusual decorations and how proud she was of her work, so any judgmental words fell off his tongue on their own. 

"What's done is done," he said to himself, already deciding that next time he would never allow his wife to usurp his well-deserved time to rest like that. 

"This is the first and last time..." He didn't even have time to properly pick up the book, which had been lying untouched for three weeks, when he heard Lucy Gray's usual gentle lullaby that she always sang to Aster and Philomel before their sleep, gaining strength. 

His legs on their own carried him forward on their own, like the dreamy song was slowly getting inside his soul, completely possessing him and turning off any thinking and now the children, covered with two warm blankets, were waving at him and the singer herself, who was sitting on the floor that still had traces of smell of newly varnished wood and barely touched the hard strings of her guitar with those soft fingers, turned around. 

Coryo could swear that it was the first time he saw her smile in an entire day, without a single emotion of lies on that pretty face — leaning against the doorway the man was firstly standing silently, then moved away from that spot, closer to where his family was.

“I hope I'm not bothering anyone here?” clearly wanting to hear the rest, he gave Lucy Gray an expecting look, causing a small chuckle to break out.

“Woah. I didn't know I had three children that needed to hear my lullabies to fall asleep.”

She moved to the side as if expecting Coriolanus to join her like he always does in those evenings, needing the lullaby sometimes even more than the children ever will. 

For now, the “children’s room”, which they called the only livable space aside from their shared bedroom and the living room, still didn’t have much, only having a small closet, a toy space that wasn’t even filled, and the two small beds that were put next to each other and either of them constantly ignored — Aster and Philomel always slept together in one bed, cuddling as close as they could. 

Admiring the way Aster protectively clung to his sister while secretly scoffing as Lucy Gray really thought of her joke as “funny” and in revenge, sat down right next to his wife, leaning against her, fully resting his head on her shoulder. 

No indignant: "Hey!" could make him get off, so Lucy Gray had to wriggle out of this uncomfortable situation — she did so in barely a minute, fixing the position of her “big, annoying, blonde problem”. 

Despite the multiple grumblings, she still held onto Coryo so tight like she was drowning and he was her last safety log — a couple of gentle guitar string plucking and the lullaby started to stream down again:

Don’t worry darling,  

I’ll be there for you.  

Lend you my shoulder,  

Keep from that nightmare.  

With me peace and quiet awaits you,  

I still be here.   

Close your eyes dear, sleep.  

It was hard to understand for who exactly Lucy Gray was singing this simple, tender song with her clear, sweet syrup-like voice. But the main thing was that everyone, even Coryo, began to yawn and after a couple of minutes, nothing could be heard in the room except the echo of the twitching strings that echoed in the hollow part of the already quite old, but beloved guitar.

Lucy Gray some minutes later, finally stopped with her little concert and felt the full weight of a man's body on herself — she could promise herself that it was a corpse instead of a living human being if it wasn’t for his steady, calm breathing and the beating of his huge, filled with love heart. The woman got him off her shoulder, starting to gently shake him, stroking his cheek. 

“Coryo... Coryo, get up.” 

There was no answer. Then, she carefully (and with difficulty, he knew how to be terribly heavy whenever he fell asleep) laid his head on one of those small pillows she took from the sleeping children’s bed that they weren’t using and covered him with her own brought blanket — still nothing. 

“You smell like sugar,” was the only thing muttered under his breath before closing his eyes tightly, now fully falling into deep slumber. 

After some time, Lucy Gray finally gave up in her attempts to wake him up — she wanted to blurt out something funny, like "then the bed is mine now", but he was sleeping so sweetly, snoring into the pillow, that Lucy Gray did not have the courage: Snow's sensitive hearing does not tolerate insults in any form, he would wake up anyway. Unhappy.

So, anything is better than risking, even if it may look funny to her. 

Therefore, she only gently kissed her husband on the forehead and turned on the nightlight with an almost invisible to the naked eye yellow light. She was bursting with laughter because of the picture that she now had the honor of observing. Her original plans were to quickly play a lullaby and return to the bedroom, but it seemed that Snow had other plans, and Lucy Gray hated sleeping alone.

Many times she missed the days when she was capable of falling asleep without anyone’s warmth surrounding her, but those days were in the past, dead and buried in District 12 after which she was never the same. That so-called “victory” made her bleed out and those last days spent in Twelve left her dry, with nothing from the past Lucy Gray but her name and the brief image that flashed before her eyes, the one Coriolanus always talked with her about all to keep “that” Lucy Gray’s memory alive, mostly for her.

The sound of the wind then sneaked towards the window, and even the heavy curtains began to move. Looking up with a small sadness in her smile and feeling the cold licking her skin, she quickly moved under the blanket to stay closer to her husband, laying her head on his chest. Coryo, feeling a body next to him immediately pressed it to himself in his sleep, which immediately warmed the songbird, she didn’t even give two thoughts about the uncomfortability of the floor. 

She slowly hugged him back, inhaling the soft, protective scent of roses. New perfume with the smell of sugar, which Lucy Gray so unexpectedly fell in love with, and such a familiar, safe aroma of her husband that had always been around her since that time she was still a girl — there in the monkey cage, then the Hunger Games Arena.

Hearing the beating of Coriolanus’ heart and still looking at her two serene sleeping babies, Lucy Gray’s smile was genuine, happy — she might have lost her once home and her family, yet she is still alive so all of it could have lived with her. The painting on the walls of the Capitol house brought District 12 and Covey inside, combining everything she ever loved; the forest, bright birds, and Coriolanus, Aster, and Philomel who were now all she had. And she was grateful every day for the fact that the world left her with at least something — this tiny family in a falling apart home that she and Coriolanus built from the ashes of their pain was her breath, her healing, and her solace. 

She carefully ran her palm along Coryo’s tousled hair, soon beginning to doze off, feeling the effects of homeliness surrounding her, not even needing a lullaby. 

And if Lucy Gray looked closer, she would see how both Aster and Philomel who didn’t let go of each other even while unconscious, and her beloved husband smiled in their sleep — it seemed that the bright colors in which the penthouse living room was now painted began to have a somewhat magical effect on them.

“Sleep, my dear Snows. I will protect you from nightmares, save you all just like you saved me…”   

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His steps were heavy, completely devoid of energy and life and his head was lowered down as if he didn’t want to even look at the building he found himself in after a long day in the office. 

Coriolanus Snow hasn't properly visited the penthouse since his and Lucy Gray’s ultimate fallout nine years ago — started to despise that place when his songbird tried to “offer” to live separately and she would be living in this very place, an audacity he never managed to get over. 

Yet the day after he threatened the lives of those couple of rats his wife brought in, the President randomly found himself on the doorstep of his old home, walking through the corridors and breathing in the smell of dust. In the couple of years the family had lived here some places were still not fixed, so traces of the “old” Snow penthouse with rotting corners and cracked walls from the times after the Dark Days could still be seen.

This place was not used by anyone at all at that moment and was only serving as hosting for some of his children’s parties; Tigris totally refused to live here after Snow acquired the position of president and no way would he ever allow the separation to happen and for Lucy Gray to return here. She had to be with him, where she belonged. 

Melancholy and murkiness were the only things in his mind as he tried not to break down at the sight of a drawn phoenix bird, looking at him with its bright black eyes. 

Drilling in his soul. Judging him. 

“What happened, I don’t understand. Did I chase her away, without having another chance of returning?” Coriolanus bit his cheek to the point of being struck with pain and the taste of blood filling his mouth. Holding to an almost empty bottle of some cheap yet strong whiskey he had this day, that his head was close to spinning, Snow put his forehead against the wall, slowly stroking the bird’s drawn feathers and then sighing, closing his eyes.

He always knew that to maintain the power, he had to make sacrifices, and hell, he would have gladly sacrificed half of this country for his cause. But the only thing that was out of the question in his list of potential things to sacrifice was his family.

Anyone, literally anyone would have been thrown into the burning fire of this bloody power struggle, just not them. 

“I was doing all of this for you and only you. We were supposed to be on top of the world, ruling in as a unit, yet all I can see is water leaking through the dam, no matter how hard I try to cement it.”

May Lucy Gray be damned — if it was any other powerful man in the Capitol who was sick of his wife’s shenanigans, he would have sent her away or arranged her death all to not bother with a divorce and reputation taint. But Coriolanus was different: living and breathing her; never ever would he have imagined causing his woman pain, doesn’t even matter that her face was filled with tears every time he held her or even looked at her. 

A look of pure love she once gave him was gone. And his words from yesterday may have snapped the very last straws he desperately held onto, in the hope of getting back those gentle touches of her soft hands and the songs that always healed no matter what bad day he might have had. She was gone and he hated that he never knew where Lucy Gray was, like he would have known in the presidential palace or the Arena.

Snow couldn’t grasp why out of all people, what was happening now happened to him. All he ever wanted was a normalfamily, was it too much to ask for?

Gulping down the last bit of the whiskey and feeling overwhelmed with his head spinning, Coriolanus threw away the bottle and slowly slid down on the floor, looking blankly in front, barely blinking, not a tear streaming down his face. 

The bright walls around him were spinning, he might have seen that the small figures of the irritating to death mockingjays were flapping their black-blue wings, laughing at his misery, exactly like those abominations were doing back in Twelve. His look was completely blank when he raised his head, trying to sing for himself as whenever Lucy Gray did that it always calmed his nerves — yet he was no Lucy Gray.

It was understandable why exactly the most powerful man in Panem was so afraid; the prospect of dying alone, in complete misery like his father Crassus Snow, who lost his life in the impossible to navigate in woods, with only the coldness of his bed left as his company, was the very thing President Snow was afraid of the most.

And looks like he dug his own grave, drowning in his own blood, with the body of Lucy Gray feeding worms right next to him. 

No. He was not permitting that, so this would never happen. After all, Snow lands on top. 

Chapter Text

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The shimmering light of the studio kept getting right in her face, with big crystal blue eyes being kept wide open as if there was nothing wrong happening — to Philomel this type of morning routine, where she, talking in a microphone, kept yammering pre-written nonsense in front of a giant camera, was all too normal.

In the very early morning time, there were two main forms of entertainment on TV — weathercasting, a program that was already occupied by Lucky Flickerman, and “Capitol News”, which automatically went to the one and only Philomel Snow as soon as she turned 10 years old. 

Two famous hosts of the Hunger Games were everywhere, and although the show wouldn’t begin for close to 4 months, the key politicians didn’t care — no one was allowed to forget about the cruel punishment of the Districts and Philomel was a key to that.

What she was talking about currently, she could barely understand; she was no Aster and had no proper training in politics, hence her mouth spewing out words about the brave Peacekeepers back in District 10 who became famous for their fight against the small “uprising” by the local population- pure aggression by ingrates, her dad would say, that was only recently put to an end.

The same words, over and over, rolled out of her tongue like a program put inside a machine — they had to reshoot a couple of times, all so she would sound “convincing” enough. 

An already abnormally huge smile became even wider, but not for the reasons one could guess, probably thinking she was glad to do her part as a Snow, to serve her Capitol. No. Philo was just happy this thing was over.

Hiding away her shaking hands as the camera finally backed off, the little idol was then hidden by an overwhelming noise filling her ears, having to keep herself from twitching when Paula’s fingers, with about 20 centimeters of grown-out, eye-piercing brightly colored nails touched her back, leading her away to be fixed. 

“Fantastic as always, Miss Snow!”

Paula’s voice, which had every word being stretched out to accommodate the new “Capitol accent” was always a pain to get through — for sure she was supposed to get used to it a very long time ago, yet the girl was still inside shaking like on her first day here.

“Thanks. Glad to be of service,” her voice was trembling and quiet, yet the clueless Paula, who probably shoved down through her throat about a dozen relaxing pills to keep up her cheerful appearance and not bury herself with stress, only smiled back at her.

“Oh my lady, you flatter us — it is always our honor to work with you!” 

She was telling the truth. Philomel had seen enough Capitol celebrities that were a nightmare fuel to deal with to decide she'll never be at least a little bit demanding. 

The Snow family, while used to the highest possible service, was also famous for their complete lack of random orders and their either complete ignoring or many times outright nice attitude with workers of the service industry — despite many of them being Avoxes and Coriolanus’ insistence of paying no attention to those shadows of a human, Philomel was always equally polite to everyone, no matter if this person had a tongue or not.

Even if she wanted to disappear and never be found. Even when Paula was sometimes terrified her noises made her fall on her knees, covering the ears that had blood leaking out of them. 

Act nice. Be polite, be a pretty little angel.  

To that only place in a glamming, bright studio that almost served to the girl as a second home, Philomel was biting on her cheek, keeping her hands close to her ears — getting up at 3 am to start the shooting after 2 hours of preparation all to be on the peak time, every third day every day already sucked the soul out of the little miss Snow and that was way before the Academy day started. 

Demanding to be left alone like she always did, the idol almost fell on the door, shutting it down with a loud bang, and slowly put her tiny, tired body on a soft, little pink couch, finally allowing herself to properly breathe. 

“Call Aster,” she lousily ordered and the communicator started slightly beeping, while Philo covered her face with an elbow, smearing and fully ruining a work of art the stylists put in her. 

Pink lipstick visited and was all over the cheek, those bits of mascara that were allowed for a child her age, got into her eyes and started hurting, but she didn’t care. 

The makeup came off hard and with it, the Capitol’s beloved idol, the Diamond was gone, stripping naked and revealing the empty husk that Philomel Snow was right now. Cameras in the face sucked all of the energy out of the girl, making her try and blink about a hundred times to regain control of at least her eyesight back; wouldn’t dream of being free of the chains of live TV, so at least this can make her feel in charge of her miserable existence day to day. 

Her brother answered soon, promising to be here to pick her up very soon, but after this, the girl found it hard to get up. Her bones were cracking and the sound was an unpleasant one, both her slender neck and small shoulders were feeling wooden, unable to function, and sent warnings of pain every time the little idol moved her head or some other part of her body. 

Getting up was indeed an experience, especially on a completely hungry stomach — a pretty girl should not be eating before shooting, otherwise the figure and pictures would be ruined. But this was all she could think about while sitting in front of the mirror where she purposefully turned off the lights, looking at an unflattering, to say the least reflection. 

Philomel’s eyes were downcast, the pink eyeshadow around it making the face a red shade, but all was better than seeing how pale she was, paler than her father even. Removing extensions and mercilessly tearing out parts of her hair was no pain for the Capitol sweetheart, as her hands already did everything on their own — a bit more struggle and in 2 minutes there were no traces left of the stylists’ work, only leaving a messy nest on a place of perfectly done curls.

Damn. For a daughter of the president of Panem and her very special status, Philo surely did not look the part: the face of an inmate close to execution, her “pride” the Snow hair sticking out in a manner of a badly cleaned broom and her lips looked smeared, like she was smacked over and over. Well, who would have blamed anyone who tried doing such a thing? 

She was a monster after all. She deserved every second of the misery that is currently filling her mind.

Before she could control it, Philo buried her face in her hands, leaving some of the remaining, non-wiped-out makeup in her fair porcelain palms. Today’s news report went horribly, just like yesterday’s one. And the one she did the second to last time — the only reason she could still stand was because no one would want their father to see them in a hospital or lying in bed. Not on her watch will she ever collapse. 

The darkness that she made herself with the safety of her hands protecting her eyes felt peaceful — her two blue gemstones were stripped naked in front of a camera and lights for the entire morning, and now it felt like she deserved some rest. 

Philomel could feel her lip trembling and her palms filling with saltwater that she started to immediately gulp down her hurting throat, rubbing her eyes and cheeks; too little too late, the red marks under her eyes started to again appear visible — it always happened should she only drop a small tear. 

“Ugh. I wonder what Doris would have said about this if she saw me right now…”   

Philomel didn’t want to think about it — before the arrival of the “Rainbow Kids”, little miss Snow had close to negative motivation to step foot into the sacred walls of the Capitol Academy; not much reasons to be happy over it when you have Vanessa Cardew lurking around the corridors waiting for her snake strike with some stupid insult piercing her skin. She could never guess what tricks a girl dressed in glittering black used, but whatever fell out of her mouth had stuck. Always. 

Some could have been said about... 

Oh right, Doris. 

A pure and childish desire to see both of her best friend’s and brother’s smiles was the only thing keeping her on her feet — now Philo felt her legs wobble, looking at ballet shoes she immediately threw in the furthest corner of her private dressing room. 

Her dress fell on the ground, with the girl clacking her teeth out of frustration over the overly slim figure in front of her; after all, she was supposed to be the Capitol, a Snow who never ate less than three hot meals a day. 

All of this was just another disappointment — she ruined the only good thing about herself by the unstoppable wave of tears washing all of her self-control out, now looking less like the pretty picture she was supposed to be and more like a scarecrow.

Why couldn't she be more like Aster? To enjoy all the things that were placed on her, to be able to smile even at someone she dislikes, as her brother was a perfect epitome of what a “golden child” should be like holding himself up even in front of his worst enemies. Philomel could only dream of the same social skills Aster had; all the charisma Lucy Gray could spare went to him, along with the brains of their father.

The only reason why she never felt overshadowed by her brother was her looks — since she could walk, Philo could remember the ocean of compliments from people who were raving about her doll-like face, rose skin, the Snow icy-blue eyes, and the locks made out of sunshine; out of the President’s children it was a “fact” that she was the pretty one, even after telling Aster that he grew into a fine young man and the future is unknown to every single human. In every other aspect, Aster surely represented his name — no matter what anyone would say, he was the Star of the Snow family, not her. 

And here she is, ruining her pretty face to the point that she looked like a freak — Vanessa was so right when once called her that and Philomel didn’t fight back. It was nothing but truth after all.

Laying on the couch with nothing on but her underwear, her murky gaze slowly fell on the messily thrown red Academy uniform, her puffy eyes partly covered by chunks of hair rolled up and only stopped at the ceiling. 

Philomel Snow didn’t want to go to school. She didn’t want to interact with Cyril Crane, seeing Vanessa Cardew and over two hundred students similar to those two. 

She didn’t want to perform anywhere. 

She wanted nothing, only sleep, and never go out to do the TV shoots. 

Yet she had to do all of this.  

Snow needs to sacrifice to stay cold — was a saying that Coriolanus told to their faces so much that it imprinted on the children’s brains. 

So that is what an idol should do — sacrifice both her body and naturality to achieve the picture Capitol desires to see on both morning and evening TV. 

Slowly getting up and walking to another, full-sized mirror and trying to not look at her starved body while barely being able to stay on her feet, Philomel stretched out her pale cheeks, grimacing from pain but a big smile was still almost carved out with her fingers. 

“Pretty. I am so, so pretty,” she thought through the last tears dripping down her face, breathing out three times, continuing to look at her ugly reflection. 

It would all be okay — at least this day will be better than the previous ones. 

˚｡⋆❅⋆｡˚

Plumping into the car’s seat, Philomel was met with Aster’s look of annoyance, mixed with sadness when his eyes fell on her. 

“Did they squeeze you out dry again?” Aster tried to joke, then immediately regretted it when his phrase was met with a pair of tired to death eyes, the bleaking shine of which almost drilled inside his head. 

“Shut up. I will fall at any second right now unless you move and stop spewing nonsense.”

He only signed and put on a brightly red blazer over the girl’s incorrectly fastened wrinkled shirt, without even commenting on the hair or his sister’s mess of makeup. Miss Snow arriving at the Academy looking like a nightmare coming to life was not anything out of the ordinary, hence her brother only moved up his shoulders and silently offered Philo a strawberry milk drink, with dark bubbles bouncing inside it.

“Have you eaten?”

“No,” Philo lowered her head with a blank expression and her voice kept being raspy, so Aster quieted down a bit. “Have you finished your homework?”

Asking him about sleep would have been pointless, so she took out anything other than that. Only that Aster didn’t say much, simply nodding in response, sliding down another file containing almost the very same thing that his homework had.

Philomel gulped when opened it — no doubt, it was “her” handwriting and her signature under the 4 big pages, all while she didn’t write a single letter of that text.  

Another normal thing for them to have — she is working to own the stage, and the Snow family heir is doing his part of studying and keeping up the facade of both children being exceptional at almost anything imaginable. 

Many days when Philomel returned to her precious, safe nest, she barely heard the energy to undress or eat, thus ending up hungry until the next day — obviously, her learning anything was out of the question. She moved her other hand lower, gripping her brother tightly — at the very least they had to stick close to each other when no one in Panem, hell in the Academy deserved their trust. 

Who knows, maybe the usual ways can change since the arrival of the District children?  

“Good performance,” he sighed, noticing his sister gulping the heartwarming, almost magical drink. This could mean only one thing, which was that she hadn’t eaten at all in the morning. Again. 

“Thanks,” slightly coughing from the sweet milk getting in her throat, Philo at least tried to put on something resembling a smile. 

Aster put his tanner hand on her shoulder, trying to fix up the wreckage she was — obviously, he was not a perfect example to take from; Philomel was not blind, she could see him tweaking and hand shaking like that aspen tree she once saw in 7 during one of the very brief visits she had with her mother, while establishing the “Make Panem United” program. 

His eyes were wide and had dark circles under them and his whole face screamed that this sleepless night that he spent studying didn’t pass without a trace, but he still held his head high, fixing his blazer and shirt perfectly without any wrinkle and a now white rose being attached to it. 

“At least one of us is taking the job of being a Snow seriously,” thought the girl when she and Aster leaned on each other, holding their hands tight. 

She didn’t look at the streets of the Capitol they passed through or talk much about her job. To his honor, her brother didn’t pester about it much — he knew what she was doing was important for the public image of the family, so all he had to do was to be a good shoulder to lean on and cry.

He breathed in, holding to what remained of Philomel’s warmth — weird, that while despising her job for the noise, for the people that surrounded her and touched her every time she stepped her foot there, she still managed to keep some of the fluff of her pure heart. 

Just an indication of how either unprepared or genius his darling sister was. Since she is now here, is a mess, and also has a tough study day ahead of her, Aster thought the right thing to do was look out for her again like he always does.

A general cannot succeed without his officers and the officers are doomed without soldiers — while his father was a general, Philomel here was the officer of their family, not him. He was a soldier who did his duty flawlessly and without any questions asked. 

“You are carrying this trainwreck of a PR on your shoulders, Philo,” Aster thought, trying to smile at her and keeping her hands away from rolling up the ends of her bright red skirt; many times her hands were acting on their own while her big eyes watched the sky, without a trace of glimmer in them. 

Both of them were an actual trainwreck — no children of the Capitol looked like the Snows and it was not only about the completely different style or their “natural” aristocratic stance. The main deal was that they both always looked tired, exactly like the people of the Districts were. 

Well, it was about the glory of the Snow family after all, so who needed such easy cheating through life? Aster calmed himself, biting his cheek; having to deal with both appeasing his classmates who he sometimes called a “clique” and also balancing out the Rainbow Kids so they wouldn’t act out according to his plan.  

No doubt, Doris O’Harrow wouldn’t be that thrilled over what Cyril and him planned for their arrival… 

But Philomel doesn’t have to know that. 

For now, she had a weird attachment to this group — not to an obsessive level, but enough to beat the allegation of the President’s daughter simply playing around with shiny new toys. This could only mean that he has to be extra careful about their message, but it has to be delivered on a silver platter, with each letter written out in bright red — his dad was right, Districts have to be controlled no matter the costs. He was to become a megaphone, announcing President Snow’s wishes, and the Rainbow Kids were bred to be the string the Capitol was pulling, all to prevent any future disturbances to an already fragile system, holding onto the glimpses of hope to exist peacefully. 

“I will be governing over Panem next — no flaws in the strategy allowed,” Aster told himself, slightly hyperventilating; the heir did not doubt that he would execute this all perfectly, but he barely held trust in the pieces of the playboard that now was at his mercy. All of those people were unpredictable, wild even. 

It’s okay. It will all be fine. 

Holding onto Philo’s hand, Aster noticed how terribly shaky his palm was and how his sister looked at him with her eyes round, lower lip trembling as the traces of smeared makeup continued to remain on it. 

Oh dear, if only anyone had seen them… At any time of day — absolutely no human whose feet are touching the grounds of Panem would think that those two kids are the future owners of this land, son and daughter of the ruler of the world. 

Apathetic little girl and a trembling child, none of the things Aster wanted to be said about him, but doesn’t that mean that his work is noticeable? That his sacrifices matter? 

He is not wasting away his golden years, he is playing his part of being a Snow as flawlessly as he possibly can. Philo… He can and will be helping her, there can’t be a hard hand without a delicate velvet glove. 

˚｡⋆❅⋆｡˚

Followed by an annoyed stare of Aster, who to his honor didn’t press the issue further, Philomel spent every spare second with her newly found friends. Of course she would — by the endways time twisted in knots, and it felt as if the lessons would never end.

She despised the studying program and not she alone; many of her classmates, the ones that were fortunate at birth listened to the lectures with half of ear functioning — right, why put in any real effort when you are sitting on a millions of inheritance? 

While she couldn’t judge them at all, when she felt like flying away into the blue sky each hour that was almost needlessly spent there, barely concentrating on the assignments and her handwritten letters looking like they were wildly dancing. On paper, Philomel Snow was one of the top-performing students, but in reality had almost all of her homework done by Aster, who easily managed to complain for the two:

“Privileged buffoons, that’s who they are,” after long hours of extra studying and taking some additional courses, hearing such words from him was not that big of a surprise. “Cannot imagine them not nuking the Capitol when I am going to be the one ruling.” 

She couldn’t blame her brother for this: he was the studious, the capable one — Philomel believed that only similar blood kept the rose-tinted glasses on Aster’s eyes to not see that she didn’t go too far away from the same “bums” that he daily groaned about. 

Now, she barely survived through the lecture of Rhetorics and would have fallen asleep, if it wasn’t for two girls with cocoa and teal shirts in the same room.

By some miracle, both Willow and Doris ended up at one timing of a subject with her, so Philo had the time to be distracted by either admiring far way sitting Willow’s gorgeous big lips of naturally dark shade that didn’t tremble once even with all of the stink eyes being on her, or Doris’ confident, high and proudly risen head with the sun shining through her grain shaded, well-kept hair. 

Not at all like her, who was a mess in every face, from face to hairstyle (well, now it looked more like a clutter of broomstick-like curls).  

“Do you need a break?” Doris whispered unnoticeably, without putting away her pen. 

Unlike many District students who were practically forced to the faraway desk rows, Philo sat her best friend in the very first front by her side, which without a doubt pissed Vanessa Cardew off — no one could ever imagine a Capitol heiress sitting further than a non-human from a District, in row 2.

“I’m fine,” Philo mumbled, looking down at her empty sheet and hoping nobody who shouldn’t would never notice it, or else Aster’s reputation was going to be destroyed for having a lazy idiot for a sister.

Her reputation in this Academy has long hit rock bottom and each TV release of a magazine that had her on the cover was hammering it down further. 

Doris gently patted the president’s daughter on the shoulder, receiving a small nod of appreciation in response. 

When it was time to get up from the seat, Philo realized that Doris was holding her in balance so she wouldn’t fall and collect dust from the stairs. 

Hell, she was a mess.   

Her legs wobbled, neck kept in a single position, somewhat twisted until she could hear a crack and when the girl removed another of her curls that got in her eyes, she figured out that she could barely stand still or see properly without squinting and keeping away from any lights that could get in. 

“Is everything alright?” Willow approached the two, on the way almost being thrown down by a Capitol student, who couldn't even spare a glance for someone like her. 

“I’m all okay. The studio just got the best of me,” Philo laughed it off all while her head hurt like crazy. 

The girl from Eleven stayed where she was and after receiving a nod of approval from her group chief, two District girls took her under the arms and almost forcefully led her out, feeling the non-movement of her legs. 

By some miracle, while still fumbling, Philomel regained at least a bit of her previous strength as soon as they left the classroom. Both the familiar pink and bright red shirts standing further from the corridor quickly waved to them — Jute and Dan, so she needed to have another smile ready for the show. Can't let anyone doubt her capabilities to get through one pathetic day. 

“Where did you two lose Rowan already?” Willow still held her hand on Philo’s shoulder while Doris started to carefully twist her head around as if looking for lurking danger and right away took a defensive position, like a bird protecting her eggs from the horrors of the wilderness. 

“Stupid shits separated us. He’s at some history lectures with Foss and Vista right now,” Dan rolled his eyes, receiving a look from Doris.

“Keep your lousy voice down — do you want to get your first complaint when we haven’t been around this Academy for a week?” 

Dan huffed, muttering down his breath: “You sound like Silk.” 

On this Doris only waved one of her pigtails back to the front, giving the boy who was barely two mouths her younger, yet it felt like those months were years, this how much of a difference in attitude both performers had. 

“Silk and his ‘stupid nagging’ as you like to call it, Dan, is the only reason why you or Rowan are not yet dangling at the Hanging Tree. So, respect his word, after all, you have a lot to learn from him.” 

“Yes… Sorry, Doris.” 

“Don’t apologize to me, ever,” she tried smiling, but her constantly serious and wary face could only give out as much. “Just remember your mission here — think about Ten if you feel any bad.” 

That shut the boy up for good, but then Jute noticed Philomel, who felt like trying to hide away from the rest, curling on a line of 3 chairs put in the hall. In her eyes, when they didn’t have an opportunity to meet before lessons started and they were put into different classes, Philomel didn’t look very good.

Jute, who was the same young age as Miss Snow, searched in her skirt pockets and finally dug out a bunch of stuck together mint candy, offering some of them to her. Without much time to think in between, Philo grabbed more than one, feeling the bitterness and cold of mint hitting her tongue. Head started to spin much less when the girl with short milk chocolate curls was only left to watch and blink.

Philomel could only mumble a quick “thanks” with her mouth being full; for a moment, she was afraid of what the kind child from 8 or well, any other normally functioning person could think of her, yet the three girls and a boy smiled. 

“Yes Jute, she is doing great… Now for sure,” Willow adjusted one of her tiny darker braids and soon after scrubbed the jelly that was Philo off those chairs, accompanied by Dan’s slight chuckle. 

He could allow himself to laugh — after all, the boy knew nothing about actually working in the studio — for Dan or any other average teen of 10 who spent their work days cleansing the animal skin, taking care of chicken cattle, or wasting hours on herding the cows, spending some time in front of a TV was nothing. 

“How much is time left, Doris?” Willow, still keeping on a caring smile on her face, and how could she stay so still? Said. 

“Let’s go find others before anyone else can outrun us and decide they can make a fine punching bag.” 

The group chief clapped her hands together but they didn’t leave before she checked out on her friend — Philo breathed in a couple of times, counting to 7 exactly like Doris taught her to deal with stress, yet she chose the number herself: that’s how many members were in the Snow family, including her. 

After a couple of seconds, she opened her eyes, smiling back at all of them; it was not one of her forced out TV smiles and it turned out smaller than she wanted it to be if it wasn’t for the mint lollipops burning her mouth. 

With a small nod, the president’s daughter got up, first almost taking Doris’ hand — oh dear, oh hell, she better not notice! 

Lucky for her, Doris was focused on the sad, barely lit up face of her friend to pay attention to her stupid hand movements — for someone who grew up with determined Aster, seeing such focus was nothing new. 

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they tried to talk to each other? Aster and Doris are fairly similar…”  

No. This is impossible — her favorite, actually only brother and best friend getting along? Aster actually liking all of those new changes and not dealing with it because dad said so? 

Sounds like an utopia coming to life. And similar to its impossibility.

Philomel’s brain still had a fresh wound from a vivid memory — when she tried convincing her brother that their parents would make amends, all would go well and they were going to become a proper family again, Aster blurted out that she was a blind, dense idiot if she even hoped for a quarter of that to happen. Might have been the only thing the girl never forgave him for. 

Why did he think that? Didn’t he want to get his soft, warm family nest back? Philomel was thinking, walking down the stairs in a red blazer sea, surrounded by shirts of different colors, being accompanied by multiple death glares in the back. 

The Rainbow Kids were getting adjusted slower than either Lucy Gray or Philomel could ever predict — they had been residing in the Capitol for almost a week already and no attempt of contact with either side had gone particularly well — since the beginning, it was decided that the project will be revealed to the public in 2 months, yet no moves were made to push it forward. 

“Good riddance then,” thought the idol, walking down lost in the colorful group and fighting the urge to take Doris’ hand to show her solidarity — yet it was way too soon, or else one could accuse the Snow family of showing way too much hospitality towards the Districts, threatening the rule of the current president, which absolutely nobody would want. “They shouldn’t play the part of a submissive circus dog that barks when ordered and dances to entertain — my friends are here as equals, not tributes.” 

It was easier for some of the Capitol citizens to sympathize with the participants of the Hunger Games and easier for the hosts like Philomel to ‘sell’ to the public — after all, any viewer would know that those creatures are beneath them. They are products to consume, to mock, to feel superior to after all, but Lucy Gray’s idea was different. 

She was already humiliated in front of the whole Capitol multiple times, by having the humanity and dignity stripped away by the Games, forcefully turned into a silly bird that the Capitolites could be entertained by. 

That is not what was planned for the “Making Panem United” project or what the District students would have wanted — one week passed and they still haven’t rolled out like a carpet so the ‘pure’, ‘proper’ students could walk all over them.

No doubt they hated this. They especially started to despise the girl from Four, who walked through the halls of their Academy with a thick layer of books in her hands, an amount almost none of them ever touched, who always managed to be at the right place on the right time, guiding the group through and making sure no soul inside those walls could accuse them of brewing a tiny little riot against the Capitol. 

Thanks to Doris, they were behaving. Thanks to Silk and his ability to blend in, to the point where he earned the reputation of the “least savage in a savage pool”, a mocking nickname invented by none other than Vanessa Cardew herself, the group was silent. 

Too silent for some ears, one would tell.  

And during this week, Aster Snow was quietly watching them. None of those kids ever managed to grab his attention at all, they were also barely conflicting with the current regime — yet it was their laughter that irritated the heir of Panem to no end. 

He sometimes had a slight thought of going to Cyril and canceling everything they planned for today’s prank, after all, they hadn’t done anything way too extreme to their structure, but that was exactly the problem. 

The heir wanted to get them under his thumb, for the group to need his help and protection — in no way, his plan is going to ever work with Sergeant O’Harrow drilling and breathing down the neck of every single person in that rainbow alliance. 

“Just a warning. Rest is up to you if at least you have more than 1 pair of brains,” Aster smirked, walking away completely unnoticed — okay before the test results were out, he still had a small time window; his father would surely like to receive his brilliant son’s grades as soon as possible and no one would want to make President Snow wait. 

Using the advantage of the big break time being 1,5 hours that the students were allowed to have, he found Cyril rather quickly, wearing not only his usual mischievous smile but also a pair of thick leather gloves, holding a second pair in his second hand.

“Let me guess, you didn’t get anything,” Crane chuckled and Aster found himself close to hitting him on the head. 

“Oh, buzz off.” 

“Take this, pretty boy,” his friend’s smile became bigger. “Can’t afford to hurt Panem’s heir’s precious hands.” 

Rolling his eyes, Snow grabbed the pair of gloves; now it wasn’t the time for laughs; the cafeteria was opening soon, so they needed to spend every possible minute for the setup — where did they hide that barbed wire again? 

While Cyril looked pumped up to start another fire and watch the world burn, his most favorite thing in the world, to Aster while fun, that prank was a serious thing that can’t be taken for a joke — now even Crane’s dumb ass cannot be caught in this act.

“Philo will quickly figure out who started it and that’s going to be an end for me,” his sister finding out about the uncounted amount of “pranks” that were made thanks to his approvals or even orders was always the worst thing Aster expected to happen, so he tried to not think of it at all. 

When the boys reached the hideout, they started to prepare and hoped that the gloves would at least make it hurt less for them than any District idiot who would have the unfortunate chance of touching it. Slightly laughing at each other, the boys sneaked around the halls, planning out their further steps: just for extra protection, they knew nothing, it wasn’t them and…

Aster was ready to smile, yet suddenly he felt his face splitting in half, with it looking like a broken mirror when his head started spinning. The corridor quickly turned upside down and he, attempting to find balance before anyone could notice, suddenly found himself smashed into the nearest wall on his left side. 

“You okay there, man?” Cyril was close to dropping the wire and going to help his friend get back on his feet, but the president’s son quickly stopped him with a block of a hand, demanding he stop right there. As always, the white-haired boy obeyed.

“Tripped over my leg, can you believe it,” hiding the crushing headache behind a couple of jokes and laughs, Aster set himself straight rather quickly. 

Crane raised his eyebrow, not looking convinced in the slightest, especially looking at his best friend’s pale to death face and the way he was so intensely hyperventilating to regain control. Then he thought that it was something that he was just seeing — one blink, and a completely okay, healthy Aster was now walking towards him, signaling to move.

Saying that Cyril was surprised would be a lie; since very early childhood of them knowing each other, he was like that and took his position as a potential (well, almost guaranteed) future president extremely seriously, as well as being always good at hiding his emotions. 

So, he didn’t question him at all and Snow went off to his merry way, trying to hold in the barely bearable head pain through gritted teeth, all while feeling an empty glass bottle in his pocket.

Damn. How dare it run out when he needs it today so much?  

˚｡⋆❅⋆｡˚

At the dining room that started to slowly fill, it was unusual for Aster to sit with just Cyril; Iolanthe went off to some girls (all to collect some gossip, well good luck with that) and he still hasn’t gotten used to not having Philo around. 

Usually, she just followed him like a shadow, being her nice, supportive self — now, their sibling string of connection was stuck between a door and Aster had absolutely no idea how to get it out without causing fatal damage. 

All while in a field of snakes and rumors, it was hard for some classmates to not at least chuckle when any sights were spared for a single faraway table.

Almost no one knew how exactly a barbed wire ended up being wrapped around it, blocking the access to even the chairs, along with having dried-up white glue splattered all over this nice piece of exhibition, which also served as an improvised “GET OUT” sign. 

Every single person in that room was sick of some District children waltzing their way into their sacred walls, that barely could tolerate some scholarship low-borns; no, none of them had signed up for this, orders of the First Lady or not. 

Masterfully wearing a mask of nice, sweet smiles, they were secretly cheering for their misery, but there was a single person who sat in silence without partaking in the malicious laughs directed at the innocents.

Aster felt his shoulder being pushed and thanked whoever was out there that he didn’t respond with a stronger push to this blatant ignoring of his personal bubble — no response. Then came the turn for a second push, still nothing — only at the third one, he felt like he was done. 

“What now ?” The boy brayed and his best friend put his hands back on the table in an instant.

“Woah… Who ran you over with a car?” Cyril laughed, trying to bring sarcasm layers into the conversation. “Or it’s no more fun for Your Lordship?”

Snow lowered his gaze, holding tightly to the table leg with an unnaturally twitching hand; useless, he noticed anyway. The smile and the remnants of a good mood disappeared in an instant — Cyril immediately understood what was going on.

Finally, Aster plucked up the courage to speak.

“Listen, I'm out of this, that... "Blue Euphoria" thing,” he whispered guiltily to his friend and his bright gray eyes became 

“You got to be kidding here. I gave you a full bottle two weeks ago — what have you been doing to the dosage, pouring it on pancakes?” Crane angrily whispered to Aster with worry pouring out of his every word and he didn’t even attempt to hide it, to which the star pupil only huffed in response.

“Well, it's none of your damn business where and what I pour it on. But Cyril please, can you get me some more? I… I need it.”

Mrs. Crane ran one of the largest medical centers in the entire Capitol, so Cyril never had any problems sneaking in there unnoticed, so that the next day no one counted a suspicious lack of a few less dark brown bottles of cloudy vials with the inscription "Demitol", or as the Capitolite youth began to call this stimulant: "blue euphoria", for the blue coloring of the tongue as a side effect.

“Goddamnit Aster, which part of the instruction ‘take it little by little’ you didn’t understand? What if you faint and will get up only in the hospital?”

In a rather childish manner, Aster stuck his deep blue tongue out at his friend and turned away, muttering under his breath:

“I'd like to see you try studying for seven hours straight without any help…”

“No thanks, smartass, don not jinx me — anything but that,” Cyril snorted and laughed, even though the anxiety inside him was still there. “But I'm serious. Maybe it's enough to slurp that thing and at least try some normal sweets?”

“I tried those, you moron. It doesn't work, never worked and the only thing sweets bring me are pimples, ew. Also, do you even know what my father will say to me if I come home with a 30% from my lack of sleep or third place on the test ranking?”

At these words, both young men fell silent. There was not much to say: everyone knew that in his younger years, President Snow was the best graduate of the Academy, and then studied remotely at the University so that he again headed the top ten and his graduation speech even made it onto TV.

Anyone who managed to touch the topic of Coriolanus' youth did not hide entire oceans of praise in his address — think whatever about him, but that man was truly impeccable!

So with such a background, such name, and from the son and heir of such an ideal man, the entire Capitol expected no lesser heights. And he had to adjust himself to fit those exact expectations, after all — he was born to do this. 

Without much to say, Aster lowered his head — he hated being called dependent on anything, but his situation was much different from every single one of his classmates. He needed this to do better, to develop and not just for senseless seconds of lucid fun, that for some reason, was enough of a reason for people like Tertius to set their minds on fire, sacrificing their future.

No, he was not like them. It was a minor thing, it was necessary — just need to keep Philo and her weak mind away from that liquid and it all going to be fine.

“Well, your old man will be having some questions — he’s not going to let it go,” Crane hopelessly cut through the air. What a disgusting, painfully close truth!

“... He will kill me.”

A small pause arose again. Now he didn’t even care about all the wretched people in their dining room, just as Aster didn’t care about his setup for a prank. 

Having received from Cyril the long-awaited consent for the bottles and the promise that he would deliver them as soon as possible under the pretext of ‘coming to visit’, Snow calmed down. Crane, with the seemingly ordinary, indifferently arrogant face with which he walked 25/8, took him by the shoulder and nodded encouragingly. 

But only Aster could notice the real, supportive smile behind that sarcastic smirk. Their gaze fell on the electronic board with the results of the biochemistry test taken last week, which was displayed for all to see right in the cafeteria — almost no one even looked at it, and those who did, quickly turned away, like, what a surprise.

...So much for the great Gem of Panem and the true attitude of the Capitol children to education! Indeed, no one had spared a second glance at the board except for these two, or rather, at the loud and clear "Aster Snow" in the first place, with the 1 being engraved in gold light.

Aster has never shared or given up the number one spot since his very first days at the Academy — the glory and name of the school’s best student were all his, completely and utterly uncontested. He did not care about the seconds or lower — lots of those were occupied by the less fortunate who were carried by scholarships and would later in life become nothing more than his assistants in the time of his Head Gamemaker career. 

"Congratulations," Crane said languidly, knowing that these results had cost his friend three sleepless nights, dosed on Demitol and hitting the walls during failures. The airheaded student meanwhile was not at all worried about his 26th place.

The student simply silently took the communicator, photographed the results, and sent it to his father, with a simple and familiar note attached to it: "First." 

This announcement results board completely trampled over Aster’s mood: now he just wanted to leave, not even staying for the concert he had organized with his own hands. All the same, these savages would raise such a scream that it would be heard throughout the Academy: and he, the heir of the Snow house, would admire his successes and laugh at them... True, not now.

But the humming train of his thoughts was all of a sudden interrupted by a piercing, loud screech:

“And who did this?!” 

Smiling carnivorously, Cyril, who honestly wanted to distract his friend from trouble, pointed his finger at the source of the noise.

Two friends turned their heads and saw a complaining District 7 guy in the forest-green shirt, standing near the table, pointing at the wire around the table and paint thrown on it. 

Now it was time for the masks to fall.   

Bloodthirsty grins of the students, hungry for the show of wanting the animals to pay back for the Dark Days to finally play out, started to crawl out one by one. Not everyone was like this, far from it, but even in the coldest of eyes one could notice genuine hatred.

Looking at the ruined table, with it being stained with paint so hard that it was impossible to sit at, Philomel felt her breath leaving her. She blankly and unblinking stared at the floor, praying to whoever that she wouldn’t catch a look from her friends.

Quickly, the regaining mood was crushed — they were defenseless prey at the Arena, surrounded by hyenas. 

So unfortunate. The previous games she had to host were happening in the desert type of place, called a safari that was filled with all types of wild animals — that year almost a third of the tributes were torn to shreds by similarly looking, giant mutt hyenas. 

With every drop of sweat that fell from her face, Philo felt that panic approaching — Doris was not here, as a group chief she was supposed to get in front and figure the situation out. Now she was alone, with the choking feeling out to get her. Her lower lip began to tremble — now she was truly terrified of this all, knowing that her worst prediction turned out to be true. She hoped, she pleaded and prayed every night that her classmates wouldn’t be so stupid to dig the beginning to form truce into the ground — looks like she gave them way too much credit.

The girl noticed how Dan and Rowan were seething with anger — Rowan’s right palm had 3 wounds when the singer from Seven foolishly tried to get the wire off and immediately pulled away, almost hissing at the obstacle from pain. Philomel didn’t even hear Jute’s loud exclaim and Dan rushed to help his best friend, along with Zea from 9, who was standing the closest to her muttering something in a sad, desperate voice.

Philo understood her older friend, while the girl’s head was going crazy. Why. Why, why, why?! Everything had started so relatively well, who could have done such a plainly antagonizing thing? 

She quickly thought of two names — it had to be some trouble starter, hence Cyril Crane and Vanessa Cardew immediately came to mind. 

Cyril? No way, Aster would never get him off his leash that easy when he had to control the whole situation. 

There was only one person in this Academy who would rather drop dead than ever listen to the orders of a Snow. Peeking, Philomel almost saw red mixed with tears, when seeing how Vanessa was openly mocking the “poor District charity cases”, with a smug look of superiority on her face. 

“So that’s your little revenge against our family? Breaking my mom’s peace project apart?!” Philo was now openly and silently crying, not being able to mutter a word of defense, wanting to fall into a deep pit and never get out. 

Also, where the hell was Aster in all of that?! It is his school, he needs to deal with this one right away. His classmates, his problem, he must help her — without him, any of Philomel’s pleas would mean worse than nothing. 

He is her brother. He had to come to her aid, they were always in this together. 

Yet Aster was quiet, blending in with the walls of the cafeteria, waiting as the situation unfolded as if saying: “deal with it on your own.”

Feeling that a blow-up will soon happen, either from the Capitol students who are not used to not being entertained, or his classmates who were on the verge of breaking down, Silk took the initiative in his hands, stepping in front.

“Did you just have to do that?” 

Deadly silence, then a burst of laughter from one of the faraway tables:

“Well, at least now you all can truly become a rainbow!” 

More laughs. 

The group chief from One took the insult in the face, not fighting back at all and keeping a serious face, all while Philo could feel her legs wobbling and her heart giving up on her. 

Why wasn’t her older brother helping? Why do her friends have to suffer through this embarrassment, while the Capitol, as always, pointed their fingers and laughed at the Districts’ misery… 

Aster was right, no one would ever accept them, no matter what type of high-quality Academy uniform the 12 children put on. Trembling, she turned her head towards the smirking “crowd” — she knew that it was not in any of her power to try and defend her friends without the one who controlled it all, but she could at least speak up on what was slowly eating her alive this whole week and today finally, reached her head:

“If any of you think this is funny, then you are… This is wrong, all of you are wrong!”

Her scream did stop the laughing, but instead of understanding, Philo was met with glass, hollow eyes, and looks of weirdness — some even turned their heads to Aster, as if expecting him to also fix this little mistake as well. None of them got it. 

Before Silk, who started to carefully take off the wire while ignoring the wounds that immediately pierced both of his hands, could call Doris for extra assistance, Philomel didn’t even have the time to blink before realizing her legs were moving on their own.

Away, away, far away from here.   

Where there were no crowds that judged her for being around them or being close to throwing trash on those nice, brave kids that left their homes for a “silly dream of a naive woman.”

“Philomel?”

“Hey Philo, what’s wrong?!” 

She didn’t pay attention to the confused sounds of both the red and colorful students — all that mattered was to get the hell away from everyone. 

Aster’s eyes widened seeing his sister being that messy and distraught. Yes, that morning she didn’t look her best, but he did not expect her to be that bad.

“Oh shit, oh no,” the young heir was close to flying out of his seat to chase his mess of a sister, all while dying from worry about her. Philo was always fragile, needed protection and he was late in giving that to her.

The only thing that stopped him from sprinting was that the two brats from 11 and 12 already did that, with the bossy girl of District 4 preparing to follow, while the others, having no idea what to even do, had a look of distraught on their faces, completely forgetting about the wire and the laughs half of the Academy greeted them with.

“I think this is a perfect example of having way too much TV in your life,” an annoying voice from another table quickly reached everyone’s ears. 

“Vanessa,” Aster turned to the principal’s daughter with a warning look, but based on her reaction, she chose to ignore it. 

“Now you look at that, why is she crying?” Vanessa, pissed that the free show was over, dismissively rolled her eyes. “Pancakes will fly before she is going to stop breaking down at every single thing, I knew she wasn’t cut for it—”

“One more word Vanessa, and you will be the next one leaving in tears,” Aster, to not sound too loud, hissed at Cardew quickly passing her table, which shut the girl up right away.

She was lucky that he chose to not make a scene — while hands were itching to at least give that brat a verbal beatdown, Aster just tried his best to ignore all of it. He was worried about his sister’s well-being, after all, no way any of those could be a better support than him, her own blood… 

Not paying much attention to what looks he might get from anyone who was sitting around for “reacting emotionally”, he walked towards the embarrassed crowd of different shirts, fully intending to just push through them.

A second passed before he could notice the person who roughly twisted her head and stopped her planned way, all to ruin his. Suddenly, Snow found himself frozen in place, while in front of him, a figure in a teal shirt was standing, blocking his way to go.

Aster’s eyes widened for a second, but lucky for his image, he managed to compose himself fast enough. What the hell is this girl’s problem?  

Worst of all, it looked like Doris, whose bright, almost orange eyes were drilling into his head, did not understand what she had just done, challenging a Capitol-born like this, right in front of everyone else.

“Oh no, you are staying here,” she blurted in a close to threatening tone, standing dangerously close to him and fully breaking his personal space. 

Now she didn’t cross her arms like during their last conversation, yet stood confident and unshaken, so much that the heir almost took a step back. 

Hello no, that wouldn’t be happening, he will not entertain this insane girl’s beliefs that she could even be compared to the ones of Capitol born.

Aster looked her straight in the eyes, fully returning her glare — he was not smiling, yet he was not losing his mind like any other Capitolite youth would have if someone from an unfavorable District treated them so disrespectfully. She wants a public concert? Well tough luck, she will not be getting it from a Snow. 

The boy stood still, not making any extra movements or attempting to entertain this little scandal — a small smile then visited the corners of his lips, as he locked his eyes with the Four girl. It looked like this time, “being on the same page” was thrown out of the window, so what happened that caused her to change her mind?

He needed to know. It was all way too annoying to let go, especially when some random exchange student kept blocking his way to get to his sister.

“Says who?”

“I’ll get someone to retrieve Willow and Basil,” Doris continued speaking in a dry tone, completely ignoring what he just said. “Looks like Philo needs space… From all of us.”

“I am her brother, I know what she needs right now,” Aster huffed at her demanding tone, raising his head to take on the challenge. 

“Wow. You sure?” Her tone continued to be weirdly cold and openly challenging. Now Aster knew that in front of him was a responsible, respected person who used to order everyone around, barely tolerating the rejection of her words. 

Hearing this nonsense the top student almost scoffed at her, at the way she delivered each of her words as if it held any value inside those Academy walls. He wanted to just walk past the girl as if she was nothing more than an unpleasant figment of his imagination until Aster realized that he could not do that to her. 

His hands were stuck in one place, as he was observing the strong, confident group chief, who held her head high, not caring about having about 100 or more pairs of eyes on her and her demonstrated disrespect. 

“She is hideous,” Aster remembered calling her that and he still thought that he was right — her attitude did not mask any of her face’s imperfections, yet somehow it was the last thing anyone would think about when meeting with a crushing, powerful wave that would not let any ship through. And Doris was exactly that, she was that wave, no, much more than this — she was the ocean.

Breathing in, Aster looked around for a second and caught a glimpse of the looks his classmates gave to the boy and girl who found themselves to be the center of attention, but they were looking at him, to see his next move. 

All of this while lasting barely a minute, still felt like an eternity for Aster and he understood what the silent glares were saying — he played this little game for way too long. 

“Step away Four,” Snow ordered, gladly noticing O’Harrow’s lip compressing even more in reaction to his words. 

The group chief only gave him a blank look in response. 

“...It’s Doris,” was the last thing she said to the president’s son's face.  

“Thanks for the reminder,” Aster unknowingly found himself giving her another smile of superiority, indicating that he gave absolutely zero thought about her name. “I am very sure everyone here will gladly remember it… Along with the rest of your group's names.”

She threw her head up and her rye-like front pigtails perked up alongside it. The girl indeed freed the way for him, looks like right before the District 1 guy tried interfering in their business. Good, there was already too much color in front of him, Aster was not about to accept more disrespect from them. One time… It is still way too much. 

As he moved, the girl glared at him one last time with her stoic face and posture — while others may have thought that he obliterated the girl verbally, he knew the look she was giving him as if asking to read her mind.

“I only gave in for you to save face. If it wasn’t for the audience, I would have kept you in a single spot for however long I wished.”  

As if. Dreaming is a good thing to do though, it can push you forward. 

Aster sighed, rolling his eyes and noticing how the Rainbow Kids also prepared to leave — the ridiculously tall boy in the purple uniform, the one from 5 already returned with the 2 kids that left to “help” Philo. 

He looked at them, then at the warmly lit corridor further, the one his sister ran away and disappeared in… And silently walked out of the dining room in the opposite direction. After that moment, the sad face of poor Philomel was not the only thing wavering on Aster’s slightly clouded mind — another, long and stone face with olive skin and pursed lips appeared.

Insanity. Have those two “girl best friends” decided to collectively drive him crazy today with their weird shenanigans? And how exactly does anyone expect him to find proper balance in dealing with the school?!

When no one was watching, Aster hid in the shadows and punched the nearest wall so hard that his fist started to hurt like a chopped-off leg — he was truly seeing red, while his head was breaking apart. He must, he must find a proper solution. He is a Snow, he has to…

“And we also have to seriously talk at home, Philo.”  

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Despite promising himself that he would do it, the “correct” time for the talk never came. Philomel was silent all the way back home and also in her room, hiding in the corner when her puffy eyes and reddened face were impossible to cover with any type of makeup. 

Aster watched her sitting on the bed, curled in a tiny ball — then, noticing he was looking, Philo had closed the separating curtain. 

The silence was so pressing in the air that Aster could not focus on his lessons and the giving space strategy was not working too well on Philo — finally, after 2 long hours of feeling alone in a huge room, he slammed the textbook shut and pulled the curtain away himself. 

“Thing is—” he didn’t even have time to speak up before being cut off by Philo’s trembling voice. 

“I know what you will say to me,” wiping her nose with a napkin, she was swallowing down new forming tears. “I’m an embarrassment, right?”

Stopping some choice words he was about to dump at his little sister, Aster looked into her face and felt his heart breaking into millions of pieces. 

He didn’t say anything back at her, just climbed into the bed, hugging his sister’s shoulders with no words needed. She managed not to cry again, instead giving him a look of shame, and sadness, but also slight notes of disappointment.

When it was needed, Aster didn’t help her. He didn’t protect their mother’s project and left them to be sacrificial lambs for the Capitol to laugh at as if they were worse than poor tributes. But she couldn’t say that back to Aster, aside from Doris and others, who potentially would never talk to her again after today, he was her only friend. 

“You aren’t. You are still learning and already show a lot of potential…” The Snow boy spoke with tenderness, holding Philo like he always held her when they were children and the girl had to be dragged from under the bed because she was scared of being alone…

Well, nothing changed much in their life. They are still the same, just no longer fitting under the bed. 

“Thanks,” Philomel sniffled, while her hands were trembling. 

“Listen, I don’t know what happened,” Aster breathed in, hoping that his tone was convincing enough to not make the girl suspicious. “They are idiots, you know that.” 

She looked at him with an even more desperate expression on her face. No accusations or breaking down, today that happened more than enough time to squeeze the small body dry. 

“Do you know who that was?” 

Well, damn. He is so screwed, he needs to name at least someone so she could leave him alone and not ask many questions.

“…Vanessa,” Aster lied with a straight face. “And had others from her little gang joining her in this fun.” 

“Of course. Who else could it be,” she grumbled, puffing her lips exactly like their father was doing when he was annoyed. 

Philomel buried her head in her knees, as he kept stroking her messed-up hair, sometimes getting his fingers stuck in the curls. Of course, she believed Aster, after all, he was her brother and knew what he was doing…

She didn’t dare to face him, but she still muttered as some answers were needed: 

“And you didn’t stop her?” 

Shit.   

At that second, Aster wanted to run to the forest and never come out. Alright, if he started, then the show must continue — just breathe in… Breathe and be calm.

“I told her it was a bad idea before. But she did it anyway — you know Vanessa and what she thinks of my orders.” 

As other rare times, Vanessa Cardew yet again became a perfect scapegoat for dumping his or Cyril’s screw-ups on — if it was anyone else, Aster might have felt bad, but that specific girl was so insufferable, that it was the only way she could function as a productive member of society. 

By the looks of it, Philomel believed him, which was good — fighting with his sister anytime was a bad sign for both. They were not raised like that — the Snow siblings were each other’s support system and had a special kind of bond with one another, so it was relying on Aster’s grip to keep it from falling apart. 

Philo finally looked at him again — she didn’t look her best, actually looked even worse than after her usual torturous TV performances and hostings. She was always trapped in her 5-year-old image that the Capitol fell in love with, but never in recent days, had Aster felt more confident calling his sister a kid than right now. She was pressing against his arm, feeling almost helpless, like the air was about to pick her up and smuggle the little Miss Snow away, so no one would ever see her again — her face was almost a shade of cement when tears finally started streaming down her childish looking cheeks.

“Hey Ter,” she managed to stutter about 5 times as he tried giving her more napkins. “Do you think I did something wrong?”

“You? Any other person in Panem can be wrong besides you, sis,” Aster took her by the hands, trying to get a smile out of this crying face. “Also, wrong about what?”

“Like… I was trying to say that we need to stay on the Districts' good side and that we need to be a union… More than once.”

Aster did not respond to her, only kept clutching her small hands, looking into the two bright ice crystals in front of him. To Philo, it was more than enough — the same blank look any Capitol was wearing when she tried, pleaded, and hoped to see the reason for their actions. But it was all useless. 

No one got it. Not even her best friend and brother, with whom she was supposed to agree at most times in their life. 

“I don’t understand, how can they be so dense, we need good neighborly relationships with everyone… Does no one get that the Districts do not need the Capitol, but we need every tiny piece of grain that they produce?” Breathing in, Philomel tried to focus on the ceiling, starting to count the lights around the room, all to distract herself. “One time, Capitol’s greed already almost destroyed it, with death from starvation sometimes considered merciful — looks like the ones who survived genuinely followed that saying and went insane, as now we have the Hunger Games.” 

Philomel tried to mask her facial expression, but her being genuine was not able to be covered by any amount of large smiles. 

“And mom’s dream—” 

Her sentence was cut off with a sudden sound of opened doors. Aster quickly put his arm over Philo ready to protect her, yet relaxed when for some reason saw their father walking inside the room. 

Coriolanus looked tired as death, yet his previously cold expressions softened as soon as he laid eyes on his children. Aster barely acknowledged his presence with a nod, but before their father was close enough, the boy whispered a last thing to Philomel: 

“Don’t tell him about today. Anything of it. Otherwise, dad’s not going to be happy with me,” on this the young miss blinked a couple of times. Since when could she set her brother up that badly? 

“Aster is our hope, he is going to be the next President of Panem, my president…” She remembered her father’s words and orders, but the most important thing was that she didn’t want to shake his position in any sort of way. “I will cover up for him, well, yet again — who knows, maybe I’ll be able to convince Ter to establish contact with the program in the near future?” 

Philo immediately nodded a couple of times to relieve her brother from stress, while he kept his hand steadily on her back — actually, it was only thanks to Aster that she was still breathing the way that it looked almost normal. 

Coriolanus sat beside his children on the bed and one look at Philomel was enough to realize that something was wrong with her.

“What happened?” In a poorly masked worried tone, he didn’t ask Philo herself but asked Aster, turning directly to him. 

“Th-that… Erm…” the heir started to openly stutter. “Troubles at work today.”

“Yeah, right,” Philo desperately nodded and tried to smile, supporting this weak answer. For sure, their dad wouldn’t be way too pleased knowing his only daughter, his pride and joy were just crying over the fate of the Districts. 

Breathing in, Coriolanus looked both children in the eyes. They were silent, hiding their heads and faces, keeping the same gloomy expressions he constantly saw them having. He couldn’t act as if he didn’t hear at least a bit of what they just talked about, yet he knew that pressing them would only turn for the worse. 

He was already close to losing Lucy Gray once and for all. The last thing that a joke of a family needed was a final rift between a parent and kids.

Philomel meanwhile glanced at her father and then quickly returned her eyes to one position. She knew that she couldn’t speak up — her father would never understand anything. As any little daddy’s girl, Philo had always adored him, yet she was not blind — she could hear countless times how often her dad was spewing hatred towards the Districts, sometimes talking badly about those people without any particular reason. 

For her at least, that was the reason why she stopped telling him everything … Just like Aster did. As a whole, the Snow family home had broken into three glass pieces, with him and Philo ending in one boat, as their parents were having a war with one another.

After the deathly silence of the house and the cold of its walls, both children silently decided that they were now on their own — and that included all of their personal lives aside from grades. Those must be shared and even it at some point was a lie; Aster was the only one of them with something proper to show for himself, but Philomel still went along with his plan that he came up with so long ago that she forgot when it specifically happened. 

This had to be done because she couldn’t do anything. She was not good.

The President, known for despising any attempts of lying, seemingly chose to ignore their stuttering and his kid’s obvious cover-up. Those are Aster and Philo, they would never lie to his face… 

“I know that this can be hard for you both,” Coriolanus spoke up, slightly fixing both of his kids’ messed up hair after constant ruffling and crying. “Just remember, you can always talk… To whoever.”

“Right,” Aster mumbled back, hoping that his eyes would not rat him out. 

How lucky they are that they were visited by dad and not their mother! She would have torn him a new one for his clear lies and his embarrassment today — while Lucy Gray would never appraise him, he was his own worst judge. 

As a son of Snow, the future president and pride of the family, he allowed himself to be put on a spot by some girl from 4, allowed Philo to publicly break down in front of the entire cafeteria… Oh, he has lots of explaining to do!

But instead of telling what was going on in his mind, Aster looked straight into his father’s uncanny blue eyes and whispered:

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is under control, we are just tired, and no, we are not fighting in any way.”

“Ter’s right,” not raising her eyes from the floor, Philo paused, barely managing to say the special words. “I know you heard us, at least part of it. We just miss mom … Not like she left, but she’s not here.”

Good one. That was always enough for Coriolanus to get off their backs about their lives, which was a great arrangement that was decided on without him. 

He quickly changed his face, trying to smile back at the siblings, like they were little kids again, who had to be explained why their loving mother wouldn’t be staying over at home anymore. Aster hated that. Philomel also hated that, yet she felt it was the only way they could coexist with one another. 

Coriolanus, fantastically keeping up a stoic appearance, still moved closer to Aster and Philomel and wrapped his arms around them, closing into a caring hug. He was breathing steadily, while the kids simultaneously closed their eyes, trying to not break down right now. And it was not like Coriolanus, who wanted kids from Lucy Gray so badly ever forgot to flatter or hug them, far from it.

President Snow himself has never got to experience that from his father — killed in the Districts, yet mostly he understood that Crassus Snow was simply not the most caring person as a whole, so even without the trap from the rebels, there was no way he would ever get a hug from him. Only his mother, Lady Hestia, was kind enough to give him the very needed warmth, yet she was also gone.

He had to be different, he must always show his kin that he loves them. 

“If anything is going wrong, just tell me. Or your mother, we will try to be here for you both,” the president let go and while the coldness that was so often with him that it became part of who he had stayed, Coriolanus still tried to grasp at least those straws that remained of his family. 

Philomel kept quiet, only mumbling a barely coherent “uh-um” in response. 

Like any kid, she indeed wanted to trust her father, an indestructible figure that was always supposed to protect… Yet how is she supposed to do that when he directly and constantly tells her to throw away her wants for good in the Districts for a couple of snobs from the Capitol?

And even her favorite brother is not too much different. Completely takes after his father, which was clear for a couple of years as she watched him. 

She and Aster spent their life lying to Coriolanus’ face, putting on smiles and expressions of pride, as their dad kept his hands on both their shoulders, at least trying to carefully choose his words when talking, or spending the crumbs of time that were left from an endless list of presidential duties with them. 

All of this was good, yet the crucial missing piece was way too noticeable to ignore — the Snow family’s heart broke once and despite growing back, the ugly, bright red scars from the forcibly put-together pieces still hurt.

“We barely have anything in common now — sorry papa, but I cannot trust you anymore. Not when your heart is so full of hate that our family uniting can happen only because of one thing,” Philo tried peeking into Aster’s face, either looking for support for her position, or a completely different thing. 

But what she saw was nothing more than a poorly attached, close to falling off, bad mask of a sad indifference. Aster wanted to cry, but he couldn’t, just like President Snow. 

Chapter Text

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Carefully going through strings of a deep brown guitar sitting in a barely lighted, rented hotel room on the sides of the Capitol, Lucy Gray Snow was alone.

It was her third attempt at playing something, yet as soon as she opened her mouth, every time the words were getting tied into a knot, not being able to holler out more than a couple of incoherent sounds.

As this time passed without any fruits, Lucy Gray finally gave up, putting away the guitar, which, to the woman, was worse than tearing her lung.

It was hard to look at her own shaking hands, coughing in her pathetic attempts to fix herself and make the voice return — but for now, even it decided to fail her, to disappear and leave the songbird in waves of misery.

Even pulling away the curtain to "bring in more light" was a failure — Lucy Gray was immediately greeted with a wide view of the Capitol's seemingly glorious, glamming, and tasteless buildings when every centimeter of this beautiful from the outside and rotten to its core from the outside city was parading its luxury around.

She made a scorned face — since that day when she stepped from the train with Coriolanus to the present, her opinion of the Capitol had always remained the same.

Lucy Gray never forgave them for stripping away her youth with their bloody Games, now she was not forgiving of both the city itself and the President for trapping her in here again, just as she thought that this fate could slip away from her.

Spending this last week alone again made her sick — on one hand, her heart was longing for the warmth of a familial home, to see the faces of her sweet babies and forget about the world's pain for a second. On the other hand, thick layers of snow had mercilessly buried any desire to return to that white as death stone cage, which the woman hated even more than the city itself.

Closing her eyes and slowly humming to herself, Lucy Gray was keeping her sanity afloat — she didn't even count how much time had passed since she practically ran out of the beautiful, dangerous rose garden all while freezing and being completely barefoot. Time had lost all meaning since Coriolanus put that ultimatum in front of her, like the finest yet spoiled cuisine on a silver platter.

President Snow truly wanted to make her fear him. And oh dear was he successful in it — Lucy Gray has never been afraid of the man who had the power to abolish cities by a wave of his hand, yet he struck the strings that were tied into the guitar the weakest, almost trembling from the very breath on it.

Kids. This word that Lucy Gray carried through 9 years of thinking of them, now became her biggest weakness — nobody was safe and she remembered it.

Sitting in her hands covering her pale face, the First Lady of Panem was thinking through her doom, feeling worse than a sailor on a tiny boat in the middle of a storm — biting her tongue she had no idea how to get out of that web without leaving torn out wings in it…

"I am so sure you are feeling pity for yourself right now — both for your poor, poor head and your ruined life. But I can never get through that thick skull of yours to make you understand others' pain, isn't it right, Coriolanus?"  

Suddenly, her messy threads of thoughts were severed, when someone knocked to her room's door a couple of times. The songbird closed her eyes and grabbed her face out of annoyance. Most likely, she knew who that was — maybe if she did nothing and wouldn't respond they would go away?

Her ignoring only caused the knocks to become quieter, yet way more persistent.

"Tell him to get bent!" she yelled, thinking of a bunch of Peacekeepers standing behind those doors like they always were — and how did they find her now?

"Mom? Mom, you there?" Lucy Gray stopped in the middle of going towards the wall and hiding in there, hearing a familiar, mellow voice in the hall.

Confused, the tired woman found herself dragging towards the door and shucking away from it when realizing that no one was playing with her brain as she saw a small figure of Philomel standing in front of the door.

She opened it very fast, softly taking her daughter by her thin shoulder inside the room and getting her inside; before locking it three times, the First Lady of Panem frantically looked around, praying no one saw her face.

Almost falling on the floor from the sudden impact, Philo was staring at her dear mother wide-eyed, all while noticing her surroundings — the small size of it, gloomy colors, and poor amount of furniture around. If someone would state that this was a place of hiding for the richest woman in the Capitol, no soul could find themselves believing it.

Closing the door, Lucy Gray embraced Philomel in a tight hug, noting how skinnier she had gotten as she stroked some of her beautiful locks. While never expecting such a surprise to fall on her head, inside, she wished to see another person standing alongside her baby girl, yet found herself just silently accepting this.

As they walked together and Philomel was clutching her mother's hand like she would run away into the darkness again, Lucy Gray finally broke the silence as the mother and daughter made themselves 'comfortable' on a bed in the corner, while not a single line of sunlight from the closed curtains fell on their faces.

"My honeybun, what are you doing here? I… Just how did you get my address?"

"I asked and Aunt Tigris told me," Philo breathed out with eyes focused on her hand for some reason. "Anything wrong with it?"

Yes.  

"No, no, of course not," the woman said in a reassuring, gentle, and calming voice, touching the girl's cheek a couple of times. "Thing is, I am not used to getting visitors, especially here."

"I figured it out as much," Philo murmured back, leaning on her mother's shoulder with her full, albeit not much existing weight.

A woman and a child soon started talking, shyly sharing glimpses of stuff that was going on in their lives — it was much easier to do for Philo, who was indeed enthusiastic about seeing the face and feeling the protective hands of her mother but much harder for Lucy Gray.

It was way too sudden, she thought the universe would give her more time to collect her thoughts and most importantly… She thought that this long-awaited moment would be happening with both of her children present — Aster's face refused to leave her troubled mind, especially the fact that she even managed to forget the last time they properly talked with one another without the thick layers of ice between them.

And Philomel herself did not give her something way too optimistic to look on — the girl, so much different from the fake, carefully crafted character on the blues screens, broadcasting news in a cute voice for the Capitol's entertainment, looked like a shattered doll in real life.

While the homely feeling of a mother present washed away some of those marks, they did not fully go away with Philomel's face having a permanent stamp of worry, the look she gave her being murky, and her eyes not being able to focus on a single thing for more than four seconds.

"Just what do you have to do with a child to turn her into this?" Lucy Gray gritted her teeth, while not being able to shake away the weird, growing sense of guilt that was forming inside her stomach as if starting to eat some of her organs, otherwise — why so much pain?

From her words, Philo did not get herself in trouble — the girl willingly withheld the information of the worst accidents from the past week, not even telling her mother about what was done to the Rainbow Kids, exactly the same as she was begging her friends to not tell anybody what went down that fateful day.

This was only a secret between her and Aster — they were alone in this swamp called the Capitol, like always.

By what she was telling her mother with a straight face and a clearly forced smile, the house life was also going alright — of course, not a word about five more whiskey bottles being gone from the glass cabinet in the living room, her own breakdown in the cafeteria, along with quiet sobbing of being so helpless and the hurtful sense of betrayal when Aster seemed to be so unaffected by everything that was going down.

The Snow family was supposed to be a polished diamond, something the Capitol could wear on its finger with pride, showing off this example of a model, perfect citizens setting the standard, they had to be.

But if only the shiny cover was thin enough; that way, everyone could see that the fragile statue made of glass was not even on the verge of collapsing, its pieces were long lying on the dirty ground and collecting dust.

Lucy Gray was not stupid — she could feel that many things were wrong, as a mother can always see when her child is lying through her perfectly white teeth. All of the desire to ask about how Aster was doing and why exactly she decided to visit her today quickly disappeared — no, right now she has to try and be there for Philomel.

That was the least she could now after all — to try.

"Are you sure the work is now overloading you? You can talk with your dad for–"

"No!" the girl waved her hands up, fastly moving her palms as she was sweating and trying to keep her smile attached without changes. "I'm all fine, mom."

"Right… Sorry, honeybun," Lucy Gray swallowed down more upcoming words, wanting to not mess at least this up. On any other day, she would have just started singing. Yet her voice was now gone at the worst possible moment. 

Instead of trying to speak more, the songbird made sure that her little girl would not feel any more uncomfortable than she was feeling right now. Instead, she got up for a second and after some digging in a relatively small cupboard, returned to Philomel with a hairbrush and a flower-embodied hair elastic.

"Turn around, baby," she softly ordered and Philo did so without any questions, curling in a ball as she looked on the wall of an ugly, dark salad green color. Slowly stroking her hair, Lucy Gray began untangling what was there instead of the streaming down gold that Philomel was once so proud of.

She always loved brushing and admiring her daughter's beauty — all the familiarity to Coriolanus was purely on the surface without Philo inheriting anything inside of him, but she would lie to say that it didn't pay off. Her baby was beautiful, no matter how many times she asked her family to stop with the compliments — but now it seemed like even in her face and hair, the Capitol was clear of sucking out all of the juice of life she had.

Being only fourteen of age, the idol was mercilessly scrubbed off what was left of her innocence in an attempt to fully turn her into a product; cleaned, repackaged, and ready for the citizens to consume.

The thought of it made Lucy Gray turn from inside out, almost spitting her guts right at the floor, still, she only breathed and continued what she did — do not raise the panic. 

That's right. Don't panic. Don't panic and brush Philo's hair.

She took another breather, noting the horrible silence in the small, darker room — Philomel stuck her face in her knees while looking calmer she still was in a state of being unable to talk; risking many things, she actually visited her mother who often was almost publicly exiling herself from the life assigned to her by the Capitol, yet where was all this confidence to "talk" now?

Lucy Gray also noticed this — in the middle while she was fighting with the honeyed mess that Philomel managed to turn her hair into, the First Lady of Panem glanced at the window, then locked her eyes on Philomel's back, and after some time started humming a song.

This song had no words, yet the melody was known to both of the Snow children by heart, just like every other of her songs.

"Are you… Are you… Coming to the tree?" Philo tried to sound like she was singing, but all that came out of her mouth was more of a badly formed sentence — indeed, she couldn't sing to save her life.

"...Where they strung up a man, they who said murdered three," in comparison to the little girl, Lucy Gray's voice, albeit cracked, still sounded like a wave of notes loudly crashing against the scattered rocks in the sea.

It was the first time today when the famous songbird's angelic notes finally hit the strings of hearts just right and she was glad that Philomel was the only audience to witness this.

The woman finished the job on her daughter's hair much faster than she initially expected — without the curling iron anywhere to be found, Philomel's golden locks looked way more natural than ever; free from the heavy weight of hairspray and the task of holding an impossible form for the TV show, just to end up being completely destroyed behind closed doors.

As a last touch, Lucy Gray started to slightly smirk when she took her time to create something resembling a hairstyle — it was not anything fancy, yet was still different from Philo's usually scattered mess of curls. Tying back some of the hair to make it seem more elegant, the girl could feel the elastic being tied around the "trail" — impatiently, she reached for the hair from behind and froze for a moment, feeling the elastic having some sort of artificial flowers on it.

It took brushing through it a couple of times to realize what it was — even with her fingers she could recognize the gentle, small buds of lily of the valley. Of course.

White roses for Coriolanus. Blue ones for Aster. Sunflowers for Lucy Gray. And finally, lilies for her.  

Philo turned to her mother and noticed the badly hidden tears in the corners of her eyes, which already started to turn red; instead of talking, Lucy Gray stroked her cheek again, kissing the top of her head.

"You are so, so beautiful baby," she mutters, her voice drowning in sorrow each second she skims at the pair of crystal eyes in front of her.

Looking at Philomel was worse than looking at a ghost — after all, the bother of her sleep was still very much alive — instead, the overwhelming feeling of mourning was piercing her chest every time they found themselves alone.

Philo raised her eyebrows on her mother's face at first, but then she remembered and calmed down — for some reason she saw the sad, exhausted woman wearing this kind of expression often when looking at her.

They spent many minutes hugging, acting as if they hadn't seen one another for over 3 years instead of close to 2 weeks — for Philomel, separation from a beloved parent was a tragedy, no matter how long it lasted and Lucy Gray could not blame her one bit.

But she had to run. No way would she ever be able to face her children or Coriolanus, especially in the state she was in.

The woman knew she made a mistake. A mistake of ever believing the lies about a life her Capitol boy promised she could have with him, now there was no turning back.

Philomel also stroked some of Lucy Gray's wild curls, trying to smile from ear to ear — didn't work that well, but the girl got some points for trying. She couldn't keep her round, sweet, and innocent eyes off her, as if attempting to get through the cold wall that slowly amassed on its own inside the First Lady after her years long of living in the city that could turn anyone's heart into a stone.

"Mom…" after some time she spoke up with that sigh, which Lucy Gray could recognize from a mile away. "What happened? That day I mean — I thought you were coming home and suddenly, you just weren't anymore."

"Oh hun — that was very complicated, you know that?" the woman took her daughter by her shoulders, not letting go.

"So, you and dad fought again?"

Now, hiding anything from this point was meaningless.

"I'm sorry. You father… I—"

"...You had to spend some time apart," Philomel replied with a voice that was devoid of any emotion, only hopelessness was present in it.

"Rather that we had a small disagreement," obviously, she couldn't tell her baby the full truth — and how can you even deliver all of the things Coriolanus said to a child?

"So you wouldn't be coming back?"

For some reason, Lucy Gray left her kid without an answer, turned away, and walked all to the other side of the small room, only staring at the wall's corner while her head was seemingly shattering — the woman breathed heavily, with her nails piercing her soft, delicate hands as she clenched them into fists.

She was standing like that and completely ignoring her surroundings for more than five minutes while Philo didn't utter a word of impatience, before suddenly going up to the small wardrobe that had her clothes shown in without any proper folding; most of it wasn't even out of the bags, like she was preparing to make a run at any second.

"Mom. Mom, please," Philo came up closer, hugging her mother from behind.

Please.

A word so easy to say and so, so easy to use against anybody. Lucy Gray remembered the times where Coriolanus was always presenting her with the most insane claims and saying to please be patient with him.

"Please, believe me, my songbird — I would never be able to achieve this without you," this was the day when frantic, barely breathing 25 years old Coriolanus returned with news that he was going to participate in the Presidential elections.

And being the lovestruck fool she was, believing that her ambitious yet naive husband was only joking and would be forced to soon drop out of the race, she replied to the plea with assurance that she would always be by his side.

Now look where this damn "please" has gotten all of them!

Lucy Gray held onto a single item that she quickly turned into a crumble in her hands — a fabric of a dark green dress, that was closed from just about everywhere. She closed her eyes, trying to shoo away the thoughts that had long overtaken her brain and the woman was not able to let them go.

Philo indeed came here at both the best and worst possible time.

She opened her eyes as small tears streamed down her cheeks — what was happening now was an unclosed case, a hanging string that was only dragging on the ground, collecting dust as Lucy Gray ever tried walking away from them.

And most importantly, she had to make up her mind. Now.

"D-Do you think this one is good?" The First Lady finally raised her head and the traces of her tears were still there. She took the dress and unwrapped it, with the marks of her only recent wrinkling being visible.

"Listen, mom, I am sorry, I didn't m—" Philo started to prattle, yet Lucy Gray softly cut her off with a small shoulder rub.

"Everything okay, my honebun," she breathed out, clearing her voice. "Would you like me to get you home? I am sure everyone has been worried sick."

As Philomel's eyes widened from happiness and she assured her mother that the green dress she held was perfect, Lucy Gray's face was completely turned into a stone.

This wasn't in her plans — both the tears and her own internal breaking down. And as of now, it looked like it was time to visit the family.

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Spending time behind a closed curtain, curled on the floor as he held onto a black, beautiful guitar that had painted blue roses over its soundhole that he painted himself with a careful guise from Lucy Gray like the last remaining of his sanity, Aster couldn't stop plucking the strings.

His fists were red from the relentless punching of the training dummies and both his hands and body felt like the boy just carried around 40 sacks of grain, with his muscles, always said to be too big for a "spoiled Capitol" completely torn apart. Yet he couldn't stop, he must be doing something — as soon as he came back from the Academy, the boy buried himself in his schoolwork, then tore his body at the gym, and now it was turn for the thing that he both loved and hated.

That guitar was always Aster's little secret; it could be considered a flaw in his well-polished facade, something that no one besides Philomel should ever know. Guitar was his solace, yet he sometimes couldn't even look at the instrument without wanting to smash it to bits — obviously, the Snow boy could have never done that, it was the only thing his mother was proud of him for; keeping to his supposed roots, keeping the Covey alive in himself.

He plucked the strings while swallowing stones down his throat, all to stop his endless worry for Philo — already a couple of hours passed and his sister still hadn't returned home.

"Oh please Aster, I am just going out for a bit!" "Don't worry about me and for the love of it, stop playing dad."

Those thrown phrases had indeed covered his sky with clouds and now Aster felt even more alone than he ever did during the time when his mother was running off. He got used to it, just accepted his fate of being that child that would be chasing his mom his entire life, but Philo?

The teenager breathed in the second and then the third time, trying to not think about his sister much — he couldn't tie her to a tree, nor lock Philomel away in her room and throw away the key. It wasn't physically possible; he did not own his sister and the girl was not so little anymore, despite their father's constant objections to it — for President Snow, Philomel would always be his little, darling baby girl, just like she would be a "helpless baby sister" to Aster.

The only thing that made him question the reality around him was the younger Snow's perception of himself.

"Many times it feels like there is over five years difference between me and Philo, not one," Aster often said to both his parents or to his reflection in the mirror that greeted him every single morning. "I'm an adult. I have grown up already."

Left with nothing more to do, Aster continued playing on his guitar — the only way he could at least feel that his beloved mother was still around. His voice was never terrible, the president's son even had a talent for hitting the higher-pitched notes that usually only the beautiful tongue of Lucy Gray could do correctly and finally, he was alone in his safe bubble.

Away from the eyes of the whole country, where people either prayed for his downfall or cheered him on to become the newly worthy leader of Panem and most importantly, away from the insanity of the Academy, most of the people from there he couldn't even stomach for more than 5 minutes yet always forced himself to wear a nice smile around them.

Remembering their faces full of nastiness Aster tried not to think about how he perhaps, looked even worse in the eyes of Philomel's "friends" and his mother's project kids — the ones that at least had the honor of seeing her more than he ever did. Closing his eyes from the image of angry Doris O'Harrow rudely invading his brain, the teen coughed, trying to sing once again, plucking the strings of the instrument even harder:

You can't take my past.

You can't take my history.

You could take my pa,

But his name's a mystery,

Indeed, he was horrible at replicating the "folk" spark in songs, as if his throat was tied and he couldn't breathe anymore, barely managing to finish the last part of the song that made Lucy Gray Baird memorable and famous even before she set foot on that Arena.

Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping…

Leaning back against the wall, Aster rolled his eyes at the instrument, being very close to just putting it away before he realized that he couldn't — it was attached to his hand for so many years, that the teen could forget how to exist without a guitar. No one else knew about his little hobby, especially his friends and classmates — or else, it would have been a whole gossip topic for a whole month, oh just how would Vanessa rejoice about this!

Yet he played for Philo and himself and that's what mattered — while being at home, it was safer, it was much simpler. It was his only chance to run away, albeit not for long. Aster was a Snow and he also wanted what was promised to him since early childhood, no way would he ever rebel against it.

And when a blue screen on a hologram suddenly turned on with a simple, straight to point: “I am almost done, you may enter” on it, Aster's face was looking more like a stone than any of a human.

"Time to return to the real world," the president's son bit his lip, almost tearing the guitar away and putting it very carefully on his bed like the instrument was made of glass — his father was never the biggest fan of him playing it either way.

Slowly and heavily, Aster walked through the gray corridor inside the cold, white presidential palace. Despite the early twilight outside, typical for the spring that had just begun, which had only recently been winter, the cool-hued lamps regularly illuminated everything around, even too well.

He was in a lousy mood from the whole week of the never-ending loop of studies, avoiding the Rainbows and having to interact, and as luck would have it, Philomel had again run off on one of her endless street walks.

"And what is she doing out there on these nasty streets? There's no proper air, no trees, the eyes are blinded by the endless color screens..." Aster's memory was still fresh from two months ago, from the fresh air from District 6, on that very trip where he and Philo (along with a bunch of security that was sent with them) went for a week-long winter vacation.

Naturally, the stuffy and fake Capitol after the beautiful, snow-covered mountains would seem a little unfriendly, despite shining like it always does.

And then he had to report on the past week. This day didn't want to spare him. Seeing the young man, the security of the President of Panem's office immediately and respectfully parted, and Aster knocked a couple of times.

"Dad…" Before he could properly finish, through the thick wall one could hear how Coriolanus, previously busy with some talk that Aster did not grasp, ended the conversation with a short:

"I will have to call you back later, my son is here."

After catching his breath, as if he was going to take another test, Aster walked inside the barely decorated president's office, where the only expedition worth eyeing was a huge photograph of the Snow couple, depicted in a park, with pure bliss on their faces.

Resembling a Peacekeeper "still" stance, the young heir stood still in front of his father in silence for a while, while he tried his best to portray some semblance of a smile — if both were fully honest with themselves, it didn't work out very well.

"Congratulations on the tests this week, well done," the president was the first to break the silence, raising his eyes at him and Aster quickly felt the sharp pain in the gut, like he was stabbed with a thin piece of ice. Yet he held on.

"Anything else?"

"They told me another year and I'm guaranteed an out-of-turn admission to the higher program in biology," he grinned slightly, enjoying another small victory but not allowing himself to relax completely, keeping himself in check. "I'm still working on it."

"I called them today so that you could get in this year," Coriolanus spoke with a tiny bit of softness in his voice, sounding more reassuring than annoyed that the laws couldn't be bent in this case. "You weren't allowed in because of your age, so it's not the fault of your always good grades, you have nothing to worry about — just keep up the good work."

"Right. Thank you."

Aster expected more drilling questions over the report, but his father was weirdly silent. Thank to all his luck and blessings, that was all he wanted to say...

When it came to academic performance at the Academy, Coriolanus was never stingy with endless praise for his children when they showed that they were dedicated to actually putting effort into their lives, to have the grand name of Snow backed up by something.

"So everything is good, everything is stable," Aster seemed to relax a little, exhaling, but the President of Panem was not to be fooled by a cheap performance: his son was still a little afraid while trying with all his might to restrain the trembling of his hands and knees.

A weird thing was that now and then, Coriolanus glanced at the door, as if expecting someone to enter through it; when this did not happen, the president continued to strictly focus on his son, almost looking into his soul for an answer that he was refusing to give. After a minute of thinking "Maybe he will finally confess?" and only receiving a blank stare in return, Coriolanus spoke up himself, being sick of the silence.

"Do you know where Philo is, Aster?" He said in a commanding tone.

Just. Amazing.

"Great. Got it," Snow Jr. clicked his teeth and lowered his head.

"Well, this... I called her, and she went for a walk. Somewhere far away, but she is safe, I promise you that," the boy squeezed out and Coriolanus barely held back a sound of irritation.

"... And you let her?"

Embarrassed by his carelessness, Aster for a second wanted to disappear from this office forever, or for Philo to immediately appear here.

"Sorry, dad. She forgot her bag with the tracking sensor at the Academy, and I was in class and everything. It was an accident, really, — the young man's voice began to tremble, even if she tried to hold on firmly.

"He still has room to grow and needs to work on the way he justifies his missteps. You still want to go into higher biology, boy? I'd like to see the look on your face with those excuses if only Doctor Beast were still alive... She would feed you to her mutts before you could sing the first line of the anthem," Coriolanus grinned slightly, but this grin quickly disappeared.

He wasn't angry, — he got up from his chair and, drawing level with his son, noting how the boy had grown up; would be taller than him at the same age, and firmly put his sturdy hand on the boy's shoulder.

"That's it, stop sulking; Snows shouldn't react like that to their little mistakes or cracks in control — you're above that."

Aster only nodded at this. Even though Coriolanus said such things, in reality, he started to slowly feel his blood boiling.

Not only had his singing, free-spirited brat thrown out all the tracking sensors he had planted again — that was quite a contrivance, he was sure that this time he had hidden them securely... And now his little butterfly, his little Philo, wanted to join in making his life completely and utterly miserable.

Snow hated not knowing where Lucy Gray was — gone were the days when he could calmly call her and then were hit with a realization that they were hanging on the phone for almost half an hour, not even talking about something meaningful; just a chatter that could be going in circles, all to hear each other's voices.

"Next time, keep a better eye on your sister, do you understand me? She's still counting on you, after all," he turned to Aster, looking at him with a slightly clouded gaze.

"Yes, dad."

To prove the truth of his words, Aster dialed his sister and raised the communicator in the air — the device gave nothing but long, dull beeps that were hitting against the ears and then went silent. Close to tweaking from disgust overhearing all of this, the young heir closed his eyes.

He hated this sound — it was the sound that had started his childhood, as soon as he celebrated his 7th birthday.

Aster remembered well how his mother began to disappear from home for long periods: his father kept trying to get through to her, greeted with nothing but these annoying beeps from the communicator.

Aster could still remember it. When Lucy Gray first left home and didn't return for three days, Coriolanus rose almost every available security on alert; search helicopters were flying over the Capitol for hours, and with roads blocked in places, almost the entire city was stuck in traffic jams — it even made the news, some people assumed the worst, yet when the clock was already ticking to late evening, the First Lady of Panem was found in some country club far away from the main streets — she was performing, not caring about anything, exactly like during her unfortunate youth. That day, the Snows were screaming at each other at the top of their lungs, like their goal was to destroy the palace with their voices.

After this incident, such disappearances became frequent and then turned into a simple part of their life. What got under Aster's skin was no matter how much he asked, begged, and pleaded, his mother never took him with her.

Young Snow was ready to bite his cheeks until they bled when an unpleasant thought flashed through his head that this could happen again with Philomel.

"No, that's nonsense. Philo is not like that — she is my sister after all, the cold blood of Snow flows down our veins the same way; it won't be hard to talk."

It was getting dark outside, but they still hadn't returned. Aster was forced to leave his father's office and now stood in front of the panoramic window, holding his hand on the cold glass and simply looking out at the magnificent park, fenced with white crenelated gates.

His legs didn't move at all and his eyes were beginning to ache, but he refused to leave the window just in case the woman and the little girl could miraculously appear, even if he knew that it was all delusions playing with his tired mind.

"What are you standing here for, it's cold," Aster felt his father's firm and equally cold hand on his shoulder and sighed.

"They won't be back today, will they?" The young man stroked the thick glass and started drawing meaningless lines on it, looking into the black void of the night sky. Coriolanus didn't even want to think about it, trying to hold himself together while every day he felt like he was falling apart.

It was enough that he was starting to lose Lucy Gray — he didn't need a new circus with his daughter, especially during the preparations for the next, 27th Hunger Games. He was used to sticking to a simple calculation, thinking through his actions fifty steps ahead; but here, he encountered the emotional, proud nature of a beautiful, singing, rainbow bird and right now he had no idea what to do.

"If anyone else was in her place, I would simply order them to come to me and stay home until I permit them to leave. But Lucy Gray is not 'others' — this little birdie here had her own rules of the game, which never intended to deviate from. Sometimes, she makes me regret all of it, just for how hard it is with her…" He reflected, refusing to look anywhere but straight ahead — the President of Panem cannot lose face, especially in front of his heir.

"Of course, they will come back. They will come back, your mother and I will talk and everything will be fine," he said crisply, trying to at least portray warmth in his impenetrable eyes. "Everything will be fine."

Snow had been repeating this phrase to himself for nine years. This was his forever, haven motto — no matter how long he could remember, failures always rained down like pine cones on his head; it was painful and these "pine cones" many times throughout his life were falling for way too long. But then, fate always rewarded Snow in full for his patience and work. It had always been like this and it would also happen with his Lucy Gray.

Now she is sulking and stubborn — but she will soon change her mind and everything will be back like it once was. Lucy Gray Baird was the only one to whom Coriolanus Snow opened his heart, bound by impassable ice.

And for his first and at the same time last love, he was ready to hold on with an iron grip. There was no doubt that if Lucy Gray disappeared forever, she would take his mind with her; he would never love again, not even a drop of that sea of feelings that he felt for his wife.

"Don't slouch," Coriolanus arched Aster's back straight, holding him firmly by the shoulders, still trying to hug him a little kindly. Father and son silently admired the dark blue sky, where neither the stars nor even the moon were visible due to the bright light of the entire Capitol.

The President of Panem, who had paved his way to the top with blood and sweat, and his heir who promised to grow up to be his exact copy. The future most dangerous student of the University, a politician, a future president — those were the people who were now trying to cover the bleeding hole in their hearts and this was the fate Coriolanus had chosen for his son.

Seeing his uncertain face with a deeply hidden fear in his eyes, Aster wanted to say something about academics, about sports, and that he would try to maintain his first place in everything... But, now, there was no need to say it out loud.

"Dad already knows that I am the best. Unlike those walking parasites of society, whom for some reason I am obliged to call my classmates, I will be useful. And Ma will come back too... I hope."  

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It was almost one o'clock in the morning, but the Capitol was still awake as if it waited for the black, slightly blue-shiny car to pull up to the white cage's gates.

Lucy Gray grimaced when she saw the pure white lighting that effectively illuminated the equally pure white brick bird trap that sucked out the heart and soul of anyone who occupied the so-desirable presidential chair. Without any intentions of getting out at first, she turned to her daughter and hugged her goodbye.

"Call if you need anything," Philo exhaled, meekly lowering her head. Here it was again, the magic was over and the songs were gone; here she was again waiting for a return to the dim, white, cold corridors and her artificially pink room.

The girl opened the door and went out — but as soon as Lucy Gray had an idea in mind to get out of here as soon as possible, and pulled the door back, it suddenly stopped right in mid-air. She tried pulling it again, but a well-noticeable hand even in such darkness was speaking for itself.

"Dad?" Philo's timid voice with notes of guilt was heard outside, which she tried her best to cover.

"I knew it. You're just a master at ruining my mood, Snow," the woman hissed internally.

"Come out," Coriolanus's stern voice was heard, and his face itself became more visible thanks to him stepping into the range of weak park lights.

"If you hold your fingers on that door for another second, I'll cut them off," Lucy Gray demonstratively tugged it again, even harder than the previous time, but the hand of the much stronger Snow remained motionless.

"She is for sure bluffing," he thought, deftly and almost forcibly pulling his cursing wife out of the transport.

Lucy Gray immediately began to drill through him with a furious look, while Coriolanus' thoughts were occupied with how the gorgeous dress she was wearing did not suit her, with his eyes coming back to the sleeves of his long dark red shirt. Yet he only slightly smiled at her, allowing himself to briefly caress her shoulder.

"You look magnificent. Can't you tell me what kind of audience was so honored to see your outfit?" Keeping silent, Lucy Gray wasn't replying for quite some time, only throwing the hand of the snake-like smiling President off.

"Anyone is better than you, Coriolanus," she tossed her long hair tied at the back of her head.

She knew everything about him, including the fact that nothing hurt him more than "Coriolanus" that escaped her lips. Snow managed to withstand the outside attack, only personally escorting his wife and daughter back inside the palace, where Lucy Gray saw Aster standing at the door — were they both waiting for them for so long? Gulping, she clenched her fist, feeling as if she was taken hostage on an enemy base instead at the place one could call "home".

Standing awkwardly in a hallway that she sometimes forgot how it looked like, Lucy Gray had not spoken to Aster for quite some time, despite having a million and more things to say to him, which she couldn't tell him during the long days the woman wasn't here.

"Why are you not in bed?" She finally broke the ice of silence with a rather simple question, after feeling a rather cold hug that Aster spared for her.

"I… Welcome home, ma," he dodged the question, giving side-eyes to Philomel, who at this moment was talking with her father; the talk wasn't done in aggressive tones and the little butterfly was not crying — a normal conversation of a worried father with his child that started rebelling way too soon, that's all it was.

Exactly, normal. Then what was stopping them from having an honest, face-to-face conversation that did not turn into a storm or end up with everyone locking themselves in the room?

Lucy Gray slightly extended her hand, almost silently asking for her son to take it, to consider making up and drying the water under the bridge, yet the kid stayed weirdly quiet, sometimes glaring at the hand. Aster felt like he was stuck between two cliffs and trying not to fall into the abyss.

He wanted answers from his mother. He had to know why exactly did she chose to run away again, for a whole week, when he and Philo had already done everything they could, bending over backwards for her little dream project?

Noticing the other half of his family far away, Coriolanus abruptly finished talking to Philomel and Aster quickly lowered his head, looking only at the toes of his home shoes. Lucy Gray wasn't responding, standing still like a wax figure, which Snow did not like; he took her by the shoulders and moved the small body away, being so close to asking, or rather demanding for her to talk.

Aster closed his eyes, breathing in to suppress his tears, suddenly realizing that Philomel already started crying again, not being able to suppress the new stream of sadness; their mother, who already broke a promise once, now refuses to even acknowledge it?

Soon, a small tear rolled down Lucy Gray's cheek, which Aster barely noticed before his father covered it with his massive body.

They made her cry. Their mom is crying because they are here. After all, she can't leave.  

Philo took a couple of tiny steps towards her brother, watching with him in silence how their father was consoling, or rather trying to console Lucy Gray, who looked no better than a ghost as if the corridors of the palace sucked out the life of her almost completely.

"Lucy Gray—" Coriolanus started speaking, yet she only put her hand over his mouth.

"I am here already. What. Else?" She said, with her voice shaking from a mix of anger and pain. "You already brought what is 'yours' back, I think I did enough."

Two pairs of dead, ice cold eyes met, with Coriolanus trying to maintain his grip on his wife, hoping he doesn't look close to feral in front of his children. The songbird still walked away from him and he, seeing that instead of the door, she went to the kids, let her.

She tried to smile at them, not making it seem like she was even close to crying, and then wiped Philomel's face with her handkerchief, stroking her hair and shoulder. Aster only looked away.

"Don't cry, my dear," Lucy Gray slightly kneeled, holding her daughter's cheeks in both of her hands.

"Will you leave again? After you… brought me here," Philo muttered and on this, both Coriolanus and Aster swallowed the feeling of truth down their throats, like they shared a brain.

"...No. We will talk," she said, also making Aster face her. He tried to not look angry, to do it both for his mother and sister. "We will talk, I promise — just do it tomorrow, alright? You trust me?"

Aster glanced at Philomel, who wasn't in the best condition to answer, as he patted her on her back, she slowly started wrapping her arm around his elbow; as soon as it happened, he almost completely forgot being mad at his sister a couple of hours prior. It was all on him again.

Seething with anger, he managed to find inner strength in himself to somewhat smile back, noting the coldness both of his parents looked at one another.

"Don't worry ma. We understand…"

"Thank you, Aster," Coriolanus walked to them — the Snow family was now together again, looking as close as they once were, yet never feeling further away from each other than now.

"You are such a good kid," Lucy Gray smiled, kissing her still young, barely a teen son on the forehead, hoping that at least a quarter of her regret over leaving would reach him. "I'm… Look after Philo for now, alright?"

"As always."

The boy nodded, feeling only a desire to protect his fragile, naive sister — the previous want to pester her about running off had completely left him, and only the role of the older brother, the wise and reliable one had stayed.

Observing the sad condition of his family, President Snow carefully put his hand on his First Lady's shoulder — no matter the hurricane that was hard to contain in those flimsy walls, they had to at least seem like a family union.

Lucy Gray did not throw off his hand this time, but Aster could notice a weird, horribly blank look his mother had on her face — no anger, only traces of sadness, yet most of it was a horrid void.

Right. Who were they trying to trick here — Aster Snow lived enough in this family to understand all of it, letting go of the hope of returning everything to normal long ago. Only Philomel matters and he cannot screw it up.

The wounded songbird also saw it all — the anger her son had in his eyes, and her gaze that tried to wash away all of the world around her, especially her husband's face, once filled with sympathy… The cage has shut once again, now figuring everything out was up to her.

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Lucy Gray, having changed into a long light-brown housecoat and refusing to sleep in the middle of the night, was sitting in the large library of the palace, sometimes shivering from cold, yet continuing to diligently read books on the history of music.

At that moment she wanted to read something lighter, but the next lessons and the program did not organize themselves. Before the door had time to open as expected, the woman blurted, throwing her head high:

"Go away, Coriolanus. I have no time for you now," Snow did not listen to her, standing right in front of the sofa, putting his hand on its back and seeming to look at his wife from top to bottom.

"What a tempting offer, my little bird. But I am not in the mood to play your games, at least not now."

"What, you don't like it when I start first?" Lucy Gray, without putting aside her book, put her hand on her hip and looked her husband straight in the eyes.

Not appreciating this gesture either, the man sat down next to Lucy Gray to the obvious displeasure of the latter. She tried to ignore him, but the burning blue eyes that had been locking into her back for about five minutes made her slam the book shut; the echo reverberated throughout the library, and Coriolanus slightly grinned for the second time that evening.

"I see you're in the mood for conversation, so maybe we should talk, like normal people?" Lucy Gray just rolled her eyes at this.

"It's no use. Talking to you is like talking to a wall — you knock on it and get nothing in return."

Coriolanus paused — he had nothing to say, many would say that Lucy Gray was right. He moved a little closer to her and took her hand.

"I'm serious. Let's talk — you can't just run away from me like that anymore. Stay home for at least a couple of days," he had long forgotten how to beg, and Lucy Gray looked at him with her dull eyes, sighing long and hard.

She did not answer for a long time and Coriolanus was already starting to lose patience, continuing to squeeze her hand tightly. Snow really missed her: her warm songs dedicated only to him, her gentle touches to his hair, and her tender kisses. Now, more than anything in the world, he wanted to hug her, breathe in the intoxicating smell of sugar, and listen to the beating of her heart while feeling her hot, wet lips on his neck.

Once upon a time, she was full of love — love that belonged only to him. Now, not even a shadow of it was left.

"Do you expect me to just leave everything like this? How long do you think I will allow to get myself walked all over by your kicking feet, all while you are out there, running off to some pathetic, old clubs?"

Lucy Gray almost glared at him for that — wasn't he the one who always listened to her concerts and even one time they were all so happy, dancing together in the very same "old pathetic club"?

Feeling like she was thrown on the train tracks, she almost wanted to destroy the soulless smile that was slowly driving her crazy.

"So shoot me or ship me off to District 12 and forget that I ever existed, since I'm so annoying to you, what's the problem?" It was Lucy Gray's turn to grin: she even spread her arms out to the sides, as if to say, "Go ahead, shoot!"

What a menace. This was not the first time she had filled Snow's skull with things like: "Kill me, kill me, do it quick." She sometimes did that so often, that his patience for such jokes was running out.

Attempting to breathe, not lose it on her, or do something wrong, Snow couldn't come up with anything better, other than to forcibly wrap his arm around her small shoulder and bring it closer to him, Lucy Gray almost choked on his audacity.

"Coriolanus! Hands off, or you will regret it." Her tone was made of steel,

Are you kidding me? Now you think that the president of Panem is not even worthy of hugging his wife?"

"I probably look like the last, pathetic fool right now. But I'm not going to let her go." Dealing with inner embarrassment, Snow saw that Lucy Gray wanted to slap him again like nine years ago, but now he was prepared for that too, holding both of her arms in an iron grip.

She bared her teeth and turned her head away from him — any glimpses of good mood she had had up to this point simply evaporated.

Was he stupid? Was she stupid? As if Coriolanus did not understand how much she wanted to go back to that time! When everything was fine with them and when trying to talk there was no such feeling as if they were separated by two-way glass; the same one where, looking into which a person sees only his reflection and cannot see or hear whoever it is on the other side.

And it does not matter how loudly the second person will desperately pound the glass with their fists, sob, trying to shout and begging to be noticed, they will never be heard.

"There is not even a shred of warmth left in you, Coriolanus. Talking to you, an ice piece of a person is an even more useless thing than putting out a fire by throwing brushwood in it," briefly touching, she ran her hand over his cheek — cold.

In response, Snow, holding back a desperate, youthful sob that was bursting to come out deep inside himself, returned his wife's gesture, stroking her cheek, now and then running his thumb over it separately.

Beautiful. Proud. Warm. Smelling of sugar. His Lucy Gray.

"Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine..." He thought, still not removing his hand from her cheek. The woman herself was not crying. She was simply in pain.

"Let go of me," she tried to dodge his touches, but he was quite insistent and firm, continuing not to move.

Coriolanus looked at her hand — that copper ring, without a single stone or decoration, which was already seventeen years old, still sparkled on it. He touched her jewelry, which caused a slight smile on her face.

"... I still couldn't understand — why didn't you change the ring as soon as I started earning more? The question came as a surprise for Lucy Gray, and she grimaced, looking at her husband and then at her precious, tainted ring.

"Because it is the only real thing in this sea of lies that you threw me in without a life vest."

"And yet, you could have asked—"

Snow tried to speak more before Lucy Gray interrupted him, barely giving his wedding ring a glance — he replaced it long ago and instead of a once simple metal band, there was a somewhat elaborate, shiny, purely white gold piece that took the form of a golden snake wrapping around his finger.

"I will never ask you for anything again. Never," she snorted angrily. "You couldn't even fulfill my one request, so why should I waste my nerves? I married you with this ring, and they will put me in a coffin with it!"

"Lucy Gray—"

"You know what, I am sick of it," the First Lady had no plans of stopping her tirade. "I am sick of you here playing a Father of Year, making me out as a selfish villain who turned her back on family… You know damn well why I left — I needed to protect the kids."

"And which kids are you exactly talking about?"

On her silence, when Coriolanus already knew the answer, he was keeping calm like always, yet his icy stare became even worse with clear imprints of disgust not leaving his face. He pressed his lips together, looking right into his wife's soul with deeply hidden admiration and love still managing to sneak out.

"So, you are willing to throw all that we built through the years for… Who? Some District kids you are putting way before your kin?"

"Do not do the District thing with me — I had to protect them from you, after all, allow me to remind you who exactly lashed out, threatening their lives. All of this is yet again you doing," Lucy Gray mercilessly continued, without even catching up her breath. "Also a ring? You couldn't even fulfill my one request, so why should I waste my time? I will not be asking you for anything again. Never; I got married with this ring, so will be put in a coffin wearing it!"

Everything she said almost tore the supposedly untouchable, almighty president into tiny pieces — it was a low blow.

While Coriolanus tried with all his might to untie the sinewy knot inside him that had formed from her words, Lucy Gray could not bear it any longer — a tear rolled down from her left eye.

She sat with her head dropped and swallowed her salty tears, at the same time fighting off his death trap arms that brought her fragile body closer to him, pressing it tightly to his chest.

The smell of sugar and roses was diluted with liters of tears that the First Lady of Panem had been holding back for years now — Lucy Gray hated crying or showing weakness in general; this instantly gave Snow an advantage in their furious game.

At that moment, Coriolanus was not seething with the usual desire to take revenge on her for having wounded his heart again. He simply held her, his most precious treasure, his songbird, in his hands and rocked her slowly back and forth, plunging his fingers into the scattering of her licorice curls.

"Stop it, Coriolanus. Nothing can be returned, it will not be like before — either you let me go, or you put up with it. I'm already so tired…"

She continued to cry and Coriolanus felt how her head began to fall helplessly on his shoulder; he stroked her beautiful hair again, sincerely admiring just about everything in the sad, broken bird that almost lost her voice.

"Put up with it? No way — "Snow lands on top", and I have never been an exception to this motto, on the contrary; I am the perfect embodiment of this idea."  

Coriolanus Snow always managed to get everything he wanted, after a thorny path, raking in all possible prizes. And the two main prizes in his life were now hanging on the scales, and his main task was to balance them so that in his ideal world the scales would not even dare to think about swinging in either direction.

No one and nothing would take his Lucy Gray away from him. She was the most sincere person in this gathering of freaks, among whom Snow considered only himself and his priceless family to be 'people of the highest sort'. The rest might have looked like high class, but if he was fully honest with himself, they were saved only by living in the Capitol — if not for the money from their moms and dads, they would have been rotting on the sides of some District 10.

He carefully ran his hand over her wet cheeks, was patient with her sudden hysterics, and looked at her with a slight smile when there was nothing in her eyes except hatred mixed with deep bitterness and emptiness.

"You're wrong. You're wrong, I swear; we can still fix this," Coriolanus kisses her neck, she pulls away, but not that far. "Do you want me to apologize? For everything… For the first of September, for what happened nine years ago?" Lucy Gray looked at him and turned away resignedly — her husband took her by the chin and turned her towards him.

"I beg you, please. Call me... Like you always did." Another fit of impudence caused a smile to crawl out on Lucy Gray's face, somewhat reminiscent of a desperate grin.

Then, unbeknownst to the president, the grin was also gone, with the mask falling off for a second, "revealing" a blank look full of sadness — only a blink was enough to make it disappear once again. She felt ready.

"You don't know how to beg, you don't know how to ask — it doesn't suit you at all, Coryo."

It was all over now. Seemed as soon as a single miserable, forced "Coryo" left her lips, the world seemed to slow down for Snow. He wrapped both arms around her, burying his head in her mane of hair.

Lucy Gray did not respond to his signs of tenderness in any way, she simply hugged him so that both her hands interlocked in a strong clasp on his back.

"If I had not done as he wanted, he would never have left me alone," Lucy Gray thought, while her husband held her head on his shoulder. And so they were laying still, right on this very sofa, surrounded by books and the smell of nostalgia.

After her words, Coriolanus relaxed — perhaps Lucy Gray really would soon come to her senses and not throw away their relationship for the sake of her hysterics and naive views?

He knew politics too well not to understand that what his wife was striving for was simply impossible. So why ruin what they had worked so hard to build over the years, walking through icy mountains and erupting volcanoes together?

Lucy Gray meanwhile was lying quietly and not wanting to move; only heavy breathing as the remains of tears left her, when she started to feel his body growing heavier.

"Don't leave tomorrow — let's try to fix it," he muttered, starting to allow himself to dissolve into her after long, sleepless nights. The woman stroked his cheek to lull his vigilance — Snow had never seen his 'childishly naive', fragile, and kind wife as a threat, so he allowed himself to calm down and relax in her company.

He could never relax like this next to the poisonous, fake Capitolite women from rich families who surrounded him throughout his childhood and youth, and that's why he hated them so much. This woman right here was different in every way.

But, while caressing Lucy Gray's curls, Coriolanus didn't want to notice at all that the expression on her face was far from joyful. Oh no, now it looked as if it had been carved from wax.

"No, Snow. We will never fix what you broke — it's all your fault. You killed us and then buried us alive, leaving us to die of suffocation and blindly clawing at the wooden lid of the coffin with our nails..."

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Lucy Gray's eyes felt the cold shock demanding her to get up around four in the morning, in the same library. Coriolanus was still sleeping, and there was little time and she had to get out of his cold grip; the main thing is to be careful, careful...

For a moment she swallowed when the figure stirred from the change in her position and she was about to abandon her plan. Fortunately, thanks to the strong wine he had from last night before her arrival, he quickly fell back to an unconscious sleep.

Lucy Gray even snapped her fingers above his ear — was sleeping like a log. She pulled away, ordering herself to breathe. Immediately, the woman made a mistake and looked back — sleeping, Coriolanus seemed peaceful, almost innocent even, with a small smile on his face. Not thinking about how she could fail everything already, Lucy Gray still briefly touched his icy cheek, lowering and pressing her head against his with closed eyes, staging on her knees for a long enough time. It took some time to force her to get up, even closing her eyes to not see anything.

"Oh no... Oh no..."

Throwing off her slippers, she did not pay any attention to the cold parquet that breathed on her bare feet — the main thing was to move quickly so that the stomping did not wake him up. Lucy Gray almost ran, hoping to drown out the sound of her racing heart.

As she approached the bathroom door, the only place without a single camera, her brain screamed at her: "Stop!"

But her heart and the survival instinct that had saved her life in the 10th Hunger Games echoed: "Go!" 

And Lucy Gray listened to it. There was no need to look for the key to the small medicine cabinet — there it was, under a piece of floorboard. Her hands were shaking as she pulled out a shiny vial from a small lid, which everyone thought was a personal skincare product. The reality was that since Lucy Gray bought this huge jar of creamy liquid, it had been standing there, almost untouched — a perfect hiding place.

Having quickly cleared the bottle of the cream residue, she set her sight on the medicine cabinet, trying not to touch anything and not notice it, if only the luck would not be on her side in this. Should Coriolanus open this very same cabinet and find a couple of packs of pills shifted even half a centimeter to the side, it would be her end.

The songbird didn't want to admit it at all, but Snow was terrifying when allowing rage to consume him — he always reacted the worst to loss of control or betrayal, and Lucy Gray had been already walking on thin, cracking ice for several years in a row.

She was really afraid of him at such moments, so she tried to sing along with herself so as not to go completely crazy. Found it. 

Lucy Gray shook out five or seven of them from a large jar of red pills — Coriolanus often took them to try and heal his horrid insomnia, which she was always against, it would be much better for him to just pour all of his endless liquor down the sink. Well, at least it's not morphling...

In a second, she opened all of the pills she could reach, dumping only parts of its insides into the sink. The sound "ding!" and she, with tears on her face, adds the contents of the bottle to these pills, putting them on the very top. The dose was microscopic so that even the most trained body that had microdosed poison for years would not notice it.

Almost wanting to swallow down what was in that, Lucy Gray powerlessly fell on her knees, looking at the weapon that she held in her hand. Poison, Coriolanus' favorite tool, which he had come to love so much because of her. It was his dear little rainbow bird who had shown him what hidden death was during her Arena performance — and now, he was being attacked with his own weapon.

Covering her mouth from sobs, Lucy Gray felt cornered. Her life had already been destroyed — she had nothing to lose, and Coriolanus himself would never think that it was her who tampered with his meds. The woman knew he had to be stopped, she had to protect not only Philo and Aster but also her Rainbow Kids, who were even more trapped than she was.

"Forgive me..." She suppressed her cries and pleas as best she could since she was slowly getting aware that along with President Snow, she could harm Coryo. Her Coryo.

"May the odds be ever in your favor and you won't drink this, please don't. But I can't do this anymore — I have to stop you, you ruined everything around yourself, way too many lives. And I was the thing that got ruined first, the second we left for the Capitol on that train for the tour. When I agreed to marry you."

Chapter Text

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Lying buried in pillows in an almost dark room thanks to the morning sun not coming out, Aster’s already weak sleep was disturbed by the touch of a cold, shaking palm. The boy rubbed his eyes and almost jumped at seeing his mother breathing heavily, three times paler than usual as if she just saw a ghost, standing near his bed. 

“Ma?”

“Hush-hush here,” Lucy Gray gently went over her son’s hair, pressing her finger against the lips to get him to be quieter, pointing at another curtain, covering the bed of a barely sleeping Philo, who spent close to an hour quietly sobbing at night before her eyes finally gave out. 

Aster, in an attempt to get himself to wake up fast, has counted to ten, before crawling out of his bed and shaking his sister until she rises and shines. Seeing her mother, Philo’s eyes turned into two giant stones, as if in front of her was standing a ghost.

“You didn’t leave in the morning,” the girl practically jumped and embraced Lucy Gray, forcing her to sit down on the bed mattress. 

Aster only nodded, not even understanding that he wasn’t letting go of his mother’s shoulder, almost craving the same feeling that was lost many years ago, when the young Snow was nothing but a child. 

The woman’s body and hands finally stopped shaking when she searched and shared the warmth of her children’s love, even her face started to regain its previous, natural color slowly. 

They settled together and Lucy Gray took a couple of breaths, while Aster’s hand was still almost frozen to her shoulder — he wanted to hear nothing from what she was about to say, as this would only be either an endless river of apologies or an ocean of justifications of her actions. 

Yet the boy couldn’t find any strength in him to move away, instead holding Philomel close, listening to every single word that Lucy Gray was saying: 

“Dears, I…” The confident, bright primadonna of the Capitol had already started stammering on her words, not even properly starting with her talks. “I am very sorry. I am sorry for leaving… So much and so often.” 

“Why did you leave a week ago when you convinced us all that you are here to stay?” Sleepness was gone from Aster as soon as he realized he could question his mother on something that had been eating him alive for so many days and nights. 

“Yeah mom,” Philo mumbled, still slowly blinking from the sudden wake up. “Of course, I am not angry, I assure you. Just, you promised…”

Lucy Gray slowly stroked her hair, seeming to be looking right through the sad face of her little girl.

“Thing is, sometimes your father does a lot of wrong things — many times there are enough to not want to show my face here for years.” 

“So that was only on dad?” Aster suspiciously titled his head; obviously, he wasn’t ever going to accuse his mother of lying — but it was hard when both of his parents were continuously blaming one another for the fallout. 

Hard to guess who was the liar, who said the truth or was there any truth to begin with? Maybe the President and his First Lady looked at the world differently, where they were always innocent and the other party was constantly the guilty one? 

Yet his mother only looked at him blankly before muttering: “Yes” .

“He chose to do a… Wrong thing. A terrible thing,” was all she managed to squeeze out of herself, in hopes of bringing more clarity. Instead, all she did was confuse the kids even more. 

“And you left?” It was hard for Philomel to hide her disappointed look — obviously, she believed her mother right away. Aster meanwhile was still on the fence; it was all too much, he shouldn’t have to deal with their problems and take the bullet off his chest, yet here he was, doing exactly that. 

“What happened?” He asked, but Lucy Gray was quiet. Of course, she would never go into details with him — according to everyone around, Aster was nothing but a naive kid who didn’t understand a thing about this world. He has long accepted it, even if dealing with all of this was hard.

“Let me just say that your father has threatened the wrong people — they were innocent and I obviously would have never accepted it,” his mother put her hand on his shoulder, pressing both of her kids against her small body. “He tried justifying doing this, but I could not take anything he said from now on — that’s why we argued.”

The kids got silent, processing this information; obviously, no one would ever accuse them of having rose-tinted glasses on their eyes — they all knew that their father was not a perfect man, that he wasn’t even a good one. “Not being good is what can make you stronger, to be built to rule,” Coriolanus loved to tell his children and they both believed that he would for sure think that. 

Hardships for Aster started when he was faced with the reality that he did not want to shatter at least Philo’s world — the one where this naive child believed that their father would never do anything wrong to their beloved mother. After all, he was one of the Snow heirs who knew the truth, seeing it with his two eyes nine years ago, when the sky castle had ultimately come crashing down for every single member of this insane family.

Lucy Gray gave them a pitiful look, slowly stroking Philo’s cheek to get her to cheer up, but Aster understood it as trying to convince them that she was telling the truth, to get her own children to believe her. 

“What a fool you are, ma,” Aster sucked back the upcoming tears, even thinking of the word ‘fool’ with relative gentleness. “We already trust you. Just give us a sign and I will leave you alone forever” .

No sign came, though Lucy Gray refused to ever let go of their two bodies, holding them with her stick-like arms as if her life depended on it. The woman’s breath was shaky, her legs were trembling and her son could have never missed those signs — he tried looking her in the eyes, yet all he saw was two almost pitch-black circles, an appearance that was so close to his own. It was useless, every second that they spent like this was goddamn useless — the First Lady of Panem would have never “cracked” her weak mask for real, never in front of them and the sinking feeling of silence that has long plagued the Snow family would only grow bigger every day. 

Each talk like this one, full of love yet mixed with loads of colorful, empty promises pouring out of his parents’ mouths has worked better than any poison Coriolanus had ever used to get rid of ones on his way, making Aster’s sight clouded and heart almost completely frozen.

“Can you promise me something?” Lucy Gray raised her tired head, turning it to look at both of her children. Oh right. Here it goes again .

“Anything you ask for,” Philomel mumbled, pressing harder against the body of her mother. 

“I asked you this once and I will do it again — please, don’t end up like—” she cut herself off before continuing. “...Do not let the hate get to you — be it hate for us for being such failures as parents or be it just for any other stranger. You are good kids, I know that, please don’t make this mistake.”

Seeing this once free, now chained, broken woman like this, when she was now almost begging was a hard pill for Aster to swallow. Didn’t she believe in him?  

No doubt, he was the problem here since Philo was always the good one — it was common knowledge that he wasn’t a gift from the skies, yet hearing it from his mother just like this, with no beating around the bush, felt like being thrown in a frozen, fast-streaming river.

“...We wouldn’t. I swear to you, mom,” the young girl looked straight into her soul with her wide eyes. 

“Yeah. And what about you ma?” Aster glanced at her, almost drilling in. “Will you be around more? Or have you decided to move out forever?”

“No!” Lucy Gray almost screamed from these implications, hugging her son even tighter — what the hell even happened to her? “I… Of course, I wouldn’t, I will never abandon you, not in this life nor in thousands of others ahead of us.”

Aster went silent. Looking at his mother’s palm that was holding tightly onto him, he then switched his attention to the ground and did not raise his head to look at his family. It was a losing battle that was not in his favor for 9 years already, yet he couldn’t understand why it was happening to him — after all, they were all trapped in this gorgeous palace, buried under the layers of the greatness of the Snow family. 

He, his mother, and his sister were supposed to be in one boat, accept their fate, and go through all of this together as a team, but now he was again left on his own.

“Liar. You are such a liar, ma,” thought the teen, furrowing his eyebrows.

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With Philomel being absent about the 100th time because of her job, any day at the Academy could have been considered a garbage one. When she was first enrolled, Coriolanus didn't forget to "warn" the deans and teachers about her tight schedule, which in reality meant: "This student will sometimes be unable to attend classes due to the nature of her activities, please turn a blind eye to this."  

And they did. Now, Philo could easily get stuck in the studio for the whole day, hosting various popular programs, not even talking about the times of the Hunger Games season... 

Lucky was any person who could catch a glimpse of her at those moments — she, one might say, lived in this studio, broadcasting everything even in the early hours of the night and slept there until the very end of the Games. 

Aster, sitting at a table in the school's outdoor cafeteria, chuckled, sipping some mint tea. Both the weather and the surroundings were simply wonderful: the bright, spring sun was shining, when, in addition, he was surrounded by imitation greenery around the white tables — if only it wasn’t for the squeals and cackles behind him, perhaps he would even have liked to sit in some peace and quiet. 

But to the left, a typical gang of the Capitol's “gilded youth” had already gathered, shouting so loudly that they could be heard from the neighboring skyscraper.

Usually, such chatter wasn’t that hard and held no value to him: "Oh, my dad bought it for me!" "Oh, we went somewhere again because I took the 30th place at the testing!!"  

Such a meaningless pastime caused nothing but contempt in the heir, who had a black cloud above himself since the early morning when trying to forget his mother’s sorrowful eyes. 

Sometimes, he even felt like he was jealous — for them, the rails to the brightest future in the Capitol had long been laid; if one of them did not go completely crazy and did not start talking nonsense like Sejanus Plinth many years ago, their future promised to be completely calm and serene. 

Suddenly to him, the hairless Cosette Archibald, that same one who the day before yesterday assured everyone that square clouds are bound to become a new hit in the Capitol, noticed that he was looking at them and threw her hand up in the air, calling to  him loudly: 

“Aster! Come to us!” 

"What a loudmouth you are..." Clearing his left ear from her screams, he reluctantly stood up, forced a smile, and already mentally prepared himself for the most common chatter in the world about new clothes or parties, the pre-written text for the discussion of which he had prepared several years ago so that his answers would not sound like a simple, boring: "Yes, yes...."

Young Snow did not like large companies, and especially not like these. But the status, the label of the “Top 1, first in everything, star of the whole Capitol Academy” student forced him to be friendly with everyone he met. Aster was immediately offered to sit down, but he quickly refused, crossing his arms. 

Vanessa Cardew, standing surrounded by her small retinue, immediately took a demonstrative step back, but he did not even deign to glance at her — he had only just noticed that Cyril was not at the table this time around, hence Iolanthe quickly taken over as a news deliverer for him; either way, he would rather listen to her than anybody else. 

“Oh, we were just discussing plans for this evening,” she seemed to deliberately draw out the words in her sweet voice. 

“Well? Go ahead,” Snow carelessly waved his hand, as if allowing the blue-haired boy to include him in the gossip. 

“Anyway! You probably know that Tertius’ father had recently bought out a club a few months ago — renovations had just been finished, and they are planning to have a party well until midnight! Better news — we are all invited!”

The others smiled, and Aster felt like he was about to be given a medal for not rolling his eyes right then. 

"Well, I knew it — do you have nothing better to do than party?" Aster quickly pulled himself away, because he realized;that not everyone here studied a million hours and played sports at the same time. 

"I’ll come if Cyril comes," Aster quickly cut her off. "By the way, where is he anyway?" Vanessa jerked her head and with a poorly concealed giggle, adjusted one of her two large curls on the sides, and stupidly squeezed her lips, smeared with white lipstick, like a duck who was showing off.

"What Snow, can’t go to a single thing without him?" Aster raised his eyebrows and turned to the proud girl, who had a smirk plastered on her face. Naturally, he did not intend to answer her seriously, otherwise, she would think that she was indeed his equal. 

“Well, you know me — you can't get me out of my textbooks unless there is something special,” — he laughed a little, inwardly hoping that his laughter sounded sincere enough to not be known as 'fake' throughout the Academy and not lose trust points. 

Cardew snorted and rolled her eyes, but still shut up, which was a blessing without a disguise for the son of the President. On this, Iolanthe spoke back, now her smile slightly faltering when having to tell about her other best friend getting in very clear trouble. 

“Cy’s now sitting his trousers through in the disciplining office — got caught trying to bring the broadcast of the interview from the Hunger Games back to our Academy channels — your idea?”

Actually, no, not fully his.

But since Aster had practically signed off on it, the idea automatically passed into the hands of the heir of the Snow family. 

Now, what a setup! Iolanthe was right; one of Aster's prank plans was to try to hack into the channels currently closed to the Academy, where everything related to the Hunger Games was previously broadcast.

Currently, due to the new unification policy, any such things are prohibited from being run on those channels, leaving some hardcore Hunger Games fans without their precious interview recaps or favorite Arena moments. The two friends just wanted to joke about reinstalling them back, yet it looked like Cyril had other plans, considering that they were supposed to meet much later. 

"Oh, idiot... I told you, go wait for me and we do it with no traces,” Holding back a disgruntled puff, which was bursting out not so much because his brilliant creature called 'friend' had done something wrong, but because he had been caught so easily, Aster clicked his tongue. 

Talking to his classmates after today’s freaky morning, especially with long-resentful Vanessa present so near him was a true challenge — this girl, who today chose to dye her naturally bleak brown hair only half in purple, was constantly irritating not only him but Philo also, which for an all-loving girl was a true phenomenon. He felt nothing but pity for her when Cardew was jumping around, showing off, and half of her personality was based on the fact that she didn't like the entire Snow family. And the most infuriating thing was that even hating her was a completely uninteresting thing; Vanessa was exactly like her mother Livia, according to Coriolanus' stories about his school days — equally bratty and boring, all while trying to act like a girl of mystery. If only there was something to solve…

“So, are you coming to the party?” Tertius asked him with some pressure in his usually relaxed voice. “It will be cool, I promise — I specifically asked my father to get several boxes of gin and tonic, that blue foaming one, tastes better than the peach liquor!” The others took this news with joy, it seemed like they could already feel how liters of intoxicating poison were pouring into their young heads. 

Aster simply shook his head, hoping to at least run away after giving a clear answer. Damn, when will it be over already?   

“I can't drink, remember?” He spread his hands as if to say: "Look how strict my father is, he forbids everything, what a shame..." In fact, he didn't want to; it would only screw up his brains, and there would be no benefit. 

But in such cases, when it was necessary to masterfully get out of anything, his terrifying father's strict character, usually problematic for everyday life, had suddenly turned into quite a weapon. 

However, the little gossipers seemed to have enough of those excuses to almost unanimously roll their eyes. Vanessa, grinning maliciously, whispered in her friend's ear: 

"I told you, he'll come up with some more nonsense to avoid showing up, as usual? We should stop inviting him already." 

"What a witch," the young man thought, pretending not to hear her, while his friends were not going to give in. 

“Damn, Aster, how long are you planning to run away from us, I don't remember when you even came to hang out! And about alcohol — there is an emetic, remember?” Tertius laughed. 

"Ugh. Anything but that. And how come this drink hasn't been banned from sale yet?"  

Before the whole company started simply begging him to show up there and in order not to make them feel like they could persuade the Snow himself to make a certain decision if they ‘pressed’ him hard enough, Aster forced a smile and after a pause under the haul of glances from the young people in whose empty skulls there was nothing but the desire to get drunk, then vomit and get even drunker’, he played that this was his plan from the very beginning. 

“Oh, come on, I’m just kidding. Of course, I’ll come, I’m just reminding you once again – I don’t want a video of me tap dancing on a bar table to be all over the news tomorrow,” Aster laughed and his classmates laughed along with him. 

“What are you saying, lips are sealed and glued; you can drink until you’re full and none of us will say anything,” Tertius immediately ran two fingers along his lips, folded like a ‘lightning bolt’. The rest of the crowd simply nodded in rhythm with his words, although none of them had ever had the opportunity to see Aster drunk. 

"Well, try to keep your word. Or otherwise, everyone will suddenly find out about those famous 'apple sours' at Tertius Canville's parties that you all gobble up like marshmallows," Aster crossed his arms with a smile; of course, by 'sours' he did not mean candy; those were indeed tubes with real, apple flavored acid that this slowly developing addict loved so much.

"I don't envy your father in the future, how many fences will he have to search to find you under one of them..."   

The young man felt that his cheeks were about to crack, but he confidently and firmly held his face, endlessly joking about how much fun they would have — it's good that Cyril is not here, this fool would roll with laughter listening to his best friend's speeches. 

Indeed, the very concept of "not going" did not exist for him now, which meant that it was necessary to urgently somehow negotiate so that they would let him go with his 'friends' to the club, almost until the night (if he leaves earlier, then it is not cool). Bless his luck, how timely he passed that test — it means that if he asks, then his dad will do anything for him. 

There always had to be positivity in a train of negativity, and now Cyril, without even knowing it, has given him a perfect reason to ditch this entire talk, which already seemingly aged him by 5 years. And so, under the "Yes, yes, yes, I will for sure come," Aster hurried to slip away from the loud, obnoxious gang of his Academy friends, at least that was the name they liked to be addressed. Unless they were Cyril and Iolanthe, they could be barely considered worthy to even be called acquaintances. 

Going through the suffocating, heavy halls, filled with the legacy of hundreds of famous Capitol politicians, Aster could barely allow himself to breathe — he was already long on the second floor, planned to look for Cyril, then chew him out for acting so careless; yet for some reason, he found his steps becoming heavier and heavier each time he tried to almost run, avoiding the fact that he is a Snow and has to act appropriately.  

Finally, he stopped in one of the halls, when suspiciously loud sounds from the outside small garden, which was more appropriate to call a carpet of unhealthy green grass with a single, sticking tree, had finally annoyed him long enough. The heir wasn’t trying to avoid being seen, yet he couldn’t accept that alongside simple annoyance, curiosity also started to get the better of him. 

Oh, this show was something worth seeing!

The “Rainbow Kids”, playing in an ensemble and dancing, were singing a song — it was the first time Aster saw them with instruments, well, almost all of them; the two girls from Districts Two and Three were the only ones singing. 

The rest had flutes, three drums: two small and one big, on which the Silk from One and the duo of 11-12 were playing, that girl from 9 somehow got a violin. 

Others were making some “click-clack” sounds with some poor folk instruments Aster had no idea what they were called, yet he could only pay attention to their dancing — it was like the twelve exchange students dressed in color were flying in the air, not caring a single second about the world surrounding them.

Aster had never heard them play before, not like he was interested in it either — he was close to just shutting the window, rolling his eyes at the folk-like sounds that only attempted to mimic music, especially for him, who grew up listening to the highest class. Then, through this cacophony, the young Snow suddenly heard a guitar .

He slightly leaned over, thinking that his ears were constructing an elaborate prank, yet when Aster finally found the stream of this small interest, he almost wanted to slap his head off his neck. 

“Did the curse wrap around this terrible program even tighter? Had ma placed this annoying… Whatever, as her guitar student?!” Aster Snow’s face went more sour than a lemon, when he saw Doris O’Harrow, sitting on the soft grass and carefully going through the strings, loudly playing to spice up the already bright, simple song even more.

There weren't any more guitar players, and she and Silk were one of the minority not prancing around, showing off their bright blazers, yet she didn’t look any less happy than her “free” groupmates.

It was the complete opposite — for the first time Aster ever saw the Sea Girl smile. It was hard for him to see that smile properly, yet he could still feel how this usually gloomy, strict, and stone-faced girl was letting life flow through her, demonstrating it to the whole world with her music. 

Doris’ playing was way simpler than Lucy Gray’s or even his own, yet she managed to make it sound beautiful — Aster, stopping paying attention to others, while still internally criticizing this whole ordeal, this whole ‘performance’ that this group of rebels threw only to attract attention, still kept the window open. 

He didn’t dance, didn’t applaud. Only listened, devouring each and every note — not like he actually enjoyed the music, yet it was way better than listening to Vanessa’s trash out of her mouth or dealing with unsatisfied classmates, whom he had to entertain as if he was in a circus.

Maybe Lucy Gray had finally got her dream coming true — she brought her own small Covey inside the Capitol, something she had been talking about since both Aster and Philomel were just kids.

“It is a shame that we couldn’t be that for ma. Of course, both of us couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried to convince us that we could balance both of our roots… It’s impossible, it is unimaginable,” Aster did not sound convinced, yet he was indeed convincing himself that it was the case. 

He was Capitol, full and simple. There was nothing out of the ordinary about him and anyone who ever tried to pick on him for his supposed “origins”, was wasting their time. 

He was looking at the “Rainbow Kids” for way too long, or, more specifically, was only looking at Doris and her guitar — the group just finished their first song and the pair of girls, the singers, already started to slowly sing another one, allowing everyone to carefully join in. 

No one was left out in this group, yet they also didn’t feel like a perfectly structured pyramid — something that couldn’t be connected in the heir’s head.

But all of this didn’t matter. Many years had passed since he ever heard any guitar other than his own or Lucy Gray’s. And now, the usually annoying Doris was also playing it, playing his mother’s song.

“Aster!” his hands immediately flew up in the air, shutting the window so hard that its sound rolled throughout the hall — he then turned and saw Cyril, waving to him like he didn’t just spend time in the office getting chewed out for almost an hour. 

Right away, the soft feeling of the Covey that the District kids had brought in had disappeared, leaving the heir with his standard cold expression and an impenetrable smile. Crane could smell from a mile away that something changed in his friend’s usual pattern of behavior, but he always knew when exactly to shut up; surely a trait that Aster loved and Iolanthe was only learning to grasp. 

The two friends exchanged pleasantries, and as Aster grasped Cyril’s hand to start his usual routine of tearing into him for his foolishness, what nobody, even the white-haired boy near him, knew that his brain stayed on that field — where kids were allowed to be kids, where the little boy Philomel’s age from District 12 could play whenever he felt like it on his tiny drum, not caring about holding the proper face in public. 

Swallowing down his annoyance and continuing to drill Crane because of that stupid idea, when long reaching their next class and Aster had been quiet for some time already, all that refused to leave his head was the guitar. Or, more likely, his mother’s songs that it was bringing to life. 

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It was almost impossible to sit through the lesson — one could hear the yappings about nothing, as the back desks were crunching with cereal, each ball of which contained so much sugar that if anyone ate it dry, it would stick everything together from the inside. 

Attentively swallowing  each word from the lecture, Aster feverishly bent over his notebook, carefully writing letters — any day they could say: "All alright, here are some tests to test your knowledge!"  

He could not even allow himself a scenario where he would miss at least something and then fail. 

Hence, struggling with the burning in his throat, until suddenly (actually quite common for her), Professor Galla Sharp slammed her thick textbook shut and pointed her long finger into the group of bored students, while each of her fingers contained at least five sparkling rings at once: 

“So, unless you haven’t forgotten the lecture we had yesterday, name me the three most famous works written before the Rebellion, or as they say in all corners, a supposed ‘Revolution.’ ” 

A failed one — she forgot to add, yet the teens didn’t need to hear it; the whole proof that the Capitol was now blooming, while the Districts were stuck in an eternal position of lowered head from guilt has told the whole picture with no words. 

Without giving the others even a chance, Aster immediately raised his hand and abruptly got up from his desk. 

“I know.” 

“Mr. Aster Snow, of course,” the professor smiled and the diamonds on her hand glittered even brighter, while the boy breathed in, preparing to unleash his knowledge onto others.

“For starters, “Little Pearl,” written by Virginia Fulton, made a splash in children’s literature, sold 3 million copies, the book is currently considered a Capitol classic, Aster spoke confidently as if he were performing on stage. 

“…Then “Diamond,” written by Quart Silver three years after the founding of the Capitol. After a short pause, Aster took a deep breath, trying not to think about the quiet guy from 5, whom the teacher made sit at the furthest away desk, all to separate the worthy from the unworthy. 

“Also, "Lion, Rabbit, Mouse", published two years before the Uprising, from the pen of Wade Turner, um... District 6,” the young man at that moment seemed to sense malicious grins and glances in the direction of the poor student driven into the far row, but managed to keep his face impartial. “... Later, after the suppression of the uprising, it was banned from sale in the Capitol as deceptive literature, insulting the government and calling for military action.” 

Professor Sharp clapped and Aster, as if according to a well-established program, sat down in his seat. 

“Purely, whimsical perfection as always, Mr. Snow! I'm glad at least someone listens to the materials — and you all could do with some studying!” Showing off like a parrot and not forgetting to weirdly stretch out her voice, the woman returned to reading the book, simultaneously pouring out facts. 

Only Aster listened to her automatically, his thoughts being completely elsewhere.

Districts ... Right, them again. 

Even reminding that District literature had a chance to exist before everything went down the drain was horrifying to some — Foss also clearly didn’t appreciate his uncomfortable tone, yet why should he care about what this teen thinks of him?

He shouldn’t care , despite equality being his mother’s dream — no, he did not sign up for this. 

The young Snow found it hard to concentrate, as he was pretending that he knew everything — he knew when to make a smart face, all while his thoughts were in different places. The Rainbow Kids refused to leave his head, so Aster was debating with himself — should he just bite the bullet and talk? 

He didn’t want to give them a chance, they would never fit in. O’Harrow also was nothing but a pain in the back for the entire time he knew her; and how could Philo even deal with having such a friend? 

Yet on the other hand, for some reason, Snow felt like he had to do it — it was only for him, nothing else; after all, he needed to prepare himself for any unexpected situations when he would take the place of President of Panem, hence why those 12 were the perfect training. 

As soon as the saving bell sounded, Aster practically sprinted out of the classroom like a bullet, throwing to Cyril on the way: “I’ll be there soon, I need to get my notebooks!”  

And while the class was probably laughing at him, sometimes calling him a bookworm, Aster was internally laughing unpleasantly at them in response. 

Of course, he wasn’t going to go for any notebooks; on the contrary, his goal was that bright green field behind the Academy’s main building. 

He headed towards the field, expecting to find at least somebody from the colorful group — Foss from District 5 did not follow him, so he didn’t expect to see all of the exchange students at the same place he had the misfortune of running into. Yet to his disappointment, the field was almost empty, with only a single figure occupying the bench under that tree — gritting his teeth, Aster had a brief idea of leaving, before noticing who was there, not believing his either jinx or luck. 

O’Harrow , Doris O’Harrow was sitting there alone, not letting go of her guitar like it was a part of her body.    

Initially, the heir stumbled, wanting to simply approach her like he already did once — right, that didn’t go as well, hence at the last second he slowly and carefully went behind the wall, from where only part of his dark hair was visible. 

Sitting at the same spot completely alone, the cold spring sun fell directly on her tanned face, with the small, almost sweet smile disappearing, being replaced by concentration — she carefully, as if feeling her way in the darkness, plucked each string and looked into the open notebook lying next to her. 

"What a strange way of learning anything ... " he wanted to say out loud, but for his own good, chose to remain silent. 

“I see you, Snow; come out now,” Doris announced suddenly and with a judgemental tone in her voice like she was looking right through him, not raising her head. Aster felt the slowly rising tension and without any more reasons to stay hidden, confidently stepped out and approached the porch, putting one hand on its back, but not moving anywhere further.

O’Harrow put her guitar aside and threw her long hair back. She was in front of Aster's eyes again and this time, he chose to look her over from head to toe without being noticed. It was unclear what exactly she was doing back in District 4, but even through her clothes her well-trained, athletic body with wide hips and large shoulders was visible — the bright red Academy uniform with a blazer of her color, suited her even better when, apparently imitating Aster, she first bowed her head and then slowly raised it; their eyes met again for a second, until the girl broke the contact that had not yet begun. 

“So what brought you to me? Do not worry, I have long washed my hands — already got a lecture on the dirt from one of the students over them,” Doris opened her palms and Aster barely held back a laugh. 

Alright, since he is here, what should he say now? A simple "hello" will not do, she is a girl from a District! You don't just greet their people with some simplicity and she knows it… 

Aster held his breath for a bit, still having his eyes on the instrument only, not being able to forget his own play, the performances of Lucy Gray, or the small, intimate group dance that he witnessed today. 

“I saw your performance.” Doris raised her head and was almost ready to get up from the bench, but sat back down — Aster remembered how tall this girl was, that she could easily look him in the eyes at almost the same height, and he didn't want that: when talking, he liked to have an advantage over any potential opponent, to show that he was above all of them from the very beginning. 

“And? Did we satisfy your curiosity? Just for the record, it wasn’t anything planned, so do not cut my throat for not making everything up to the presidential standards of perfection,” the girl slightly smiled, and with a familiar look, started leaning all her weight on her right hand.

"I only liked some parts of your playing, not even for the entirety of the songs. The rest either needs proper working or is complete nonsense ..." How his tongue itched to say exactly that! 

But he couldn’t behave as usual; she could also get offended, and Aster had no idea what it was like to see a person from the District in anger. What if she decided that throwing dirt at him would be a good idea? 

"Although no, she doesn’t look like a person who would do that. She’s mature and collected," breathing in, Aster was quick to wear his usual, sparkling smile, trying not to stumble on his delivery. 

“Not bad, for beginners. But since Philo liked it, it’s not for me to judge her tastes,” Doris’ expression didn’t change, only the corners of her lips turned down, as if she expected such an answer. 

“It is an honor, Snow,” Doris answered, and her words were so thickly layered with sarcasm that Aster winced. 

“Although, despite your current level, you have room to grow in terms of music,” he thought he was praising her, comparing her to himself, but judging by her expression, she didn’t like it that much. 

The girl slightly giggled and picked up the guitar from the ground, gently running her fingers over its strings a couple of times. Mentally, Aster compared her hands to his own — it wasn’t that her hands were tiny or completely untouched by physical work, oh no. 

Like his, her palms were furrowed and small from the strings; the young man still remembered how he had once bled after a long practice — he had unsuccessfully slapped one of the strings right across his fingers. Her lips curved into a smile, but this expression was not sunny and impudent (like his mother's), but cold. Then it disappeared altogether. 

“Oh? That's right, your mother said that you seem to play too…” 

“Yes, and quite well. Want to hear it, so that you can see how real professionals do their job?” Aster laughed again, but Doris again did not give him the reaction that he either wanted from her or was simply accustomed to receiving. The children of the Capitol laughed at any, even the cheapest and simplest jokes, which could sometimes even be offensive, but they simply did not see this offense. 

Not even 30 years had passed since the Rebellion of the Districts, and the Capitol already seemed to have begun to lose any caution that it had acquired during the military-defensive actions. Aster had never spoken, he had never even laid eyes on so many District residents as he had in his own Academy in the last couple of weeks. 

The conversation with Doris was not going well, not at all, but the heir was determined to continue, partly because he had not forgotten her rudeness on her first day of arrival. But the girl had no intention of giving the heir of Snow what he wanted so badly. 

She answered him briefly, dryly, through the chords of her guitar, and made no attempt to make the “right” impression on him, as everyone who grew up in the Capitol usually did; had no filter or inhibitions; she enjoyed watching herself openly humiliate the heir of all of Panem. 

“I think I’ll refuse, my hands are dirty, they’re all covered in seaweed, why would you touch an instrument of mine?” 

“And why, Four? Are you afraid?” Aster laughed, but then Doris hummed as she ran her hand over the strings of her guitar, sharply touching several of them at once with her hand, and, putting the neck aside, finally looked at him again. 

Her eyes were rolled up, and her face showed an emotion not so much of disappointment as something close to: are you serious?  

“Snow. Why did you come to me right now and stand here?” This phrase from Doris's mouth sounded like a hammer hitting an anvil, and her already initially buried impression of Aster was simply filled with formalin after a couple of his phrases. 

"Woah. Doesn't she want to take the opportunity to talk to me? I thought people like her would love to look for every single opportunity to grasp at every single offered straw," thinking, Aster raised his eyebrows, but still smiled, keeping himself in check. 

“Just like that... I only wanted to talk, since we are now classmates and as I long figured it out, you are not planning to go anywhere.” 

“How sweet of you, dear sir,” unexpectedly for Aster, Doris rose from the bench, so that her face was opposite his — from surprise, the teen took a step back; the girl's head was almost level with his, while little sparks began to light up in her bright eyes. “Naturally, I do not intend to talk to you, so you can not waste your time on me.” 

The girl spoke with pride, abruptly and not a word of lies came from her mouth — truly straight as an arrow. 

While Aster was looking at her, she turned around and began to leave, raking her notebook into a pile, and quickly putting the guitar in a portable case. Doris did not even turn to him, as if he was an empty place for her. 

The young man grimaced, crossing his arms and looking after her. He was not going to answer or call her, why? It would only ruin his reputation… But, unnoticed by him, his hands started to get clenched into fists as he looked at her sparkling straight hair, which waved and moved with each step she took. 

“Okay, Aster, stop. You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to do that.”   

…He still did it. 

“Hey, Four! Allow me to play for a bit anyway, and then we’ll compare — no one plays the guitar here, so maybe it can be a… Good option to… Well,” he stumbled on his words, unable to form a coherent sentence so it would make sense.

“Idiot. You’re an idiot, Aster Snow. Impenetrable. Stupid. Idiot.”   

The young man was ready to bite his elbows when the girl, hearing his words, turned around, and her bright red skirt flew up and spun like a real tulip. 

“I thought you despised and declared a boycott for us. Forgot already?” And she, bowing her head to the side sarcastically and holding the guitar case with both outstretched hands, rushed away, leaving Snow under the tree, while for a second he wished he could fall through the ground. 

“Damn,” Aster cursed and sat down on the still warm bench, where just a second ago the girl from District 4 had been sitting. 

He indeed did everything wrong — used ‘Four’ as if she was a tribute, while should have called her Sea Girl like he initially planned to, exactly like how Doris signed herself up in his head. Yet should he? 

They were always Philo’s responsibility, not his — he was stuck with this group only because Mr Plinth had asked, yet he kept and kept disappointing himself.

Would Doris even talk to him again? Did he want her to talk to him? 

Indeed, now it was a grand failure…

Chapter Text

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He had absolutely no idea what he expected when coming to this place. 

Dodging about a dozen invitations to dance, Aster had been standing at the bright red bar for about 10 minutes now — a miserable look, fitting less for a "Snow", and more for some social pariah, that kind that never leaves their safe bubble and in public gatherings sits in a faraway corner, mourning their wasted time on coming here. When talking about the second option, the young man’s situation was not even that far from the truth.  

"Philo is working hard in her studio, and at this time I am stuck here, like the most miserable loser in all of Panem," Although Aster hated to think so, he understood that he was right. 

The very corner in which he "hid" was the only place where the light from the glass, patterned, endless vases with desserts did not fall, which stood, as luck would have it, right under the bright lanterns, casting colorful, bright reflections, some of which were touching his face from time to time, forcing Aster to admire the wall for some time of a supposedly fun party. 

He felt funny about himself, but he still greeted everyone passing by, not forgetting to clink his glasses, smiling brightly, as if he was genuinely enjoying the surrounding circus: 

"For your health! Long live Panem!"   

“Long live Panem... Vivat for the Capitol…” 

He could tell that it was a true “vivat” for this event since Tertius’ father wasn’t stingy with it for one bit. Only the Capitol Elite knows the key secret on how to throw the true parties of the century, even if nothing could ever compare to the celebrations in the Presidential Palace, which happened only 3 times in a year — obviously, it was the banquets for both of the Snow children, along with celebrating the Day of Liberation; the very day when District Thirteen was destroyed to bits, stopping the District rioting for good. 

It was previously assumed that only light alcohol would be served there, but just look at it! 

"Oh, why…" Aster was ready to clutch his head, holding his glass of grape juice in his hands, only adding about five drops of rum to it. 

That's why he didn't like going to such things — there's little pleasure in seeing your classmates getting drunk to the point of unconsciousness, shaking like crazy to the music all the while. Everyone had dressed up for this evening, Aster had even forgotten what they looked like without their uniforms. 

There were feathers everywhere on suits and dresses, and Cosette's hairless head was adorned with a parade of silver jewelry that jingled and shook absurdly as she danced. How had she not broken her neck with accessories like that? 

He could recall how when they arrived at the club, Vanessa had called his suit "old-fashioned," while trying her best to show off her white and gold dress, which emphasized her figure and barely covered her lower part, exposing her thin legs — after such words, the young Snow himself did not understand how he managed to refrain from pulling her by that purple hair so hard that not even a ton of varnish would have saved it from turning into a crow's nest. 

Aster looked back and took a couple of steps from the counter to one of the walls, the surface of which was polished so that it could easily be mistaken for a mirror, and glanced at himself for the umpteenth time that day. What looked at him from the mirror was a reflection of a tall, sort of muscular body that looked relatively weird for the Capitol’s standards, in a simple but perfectly pressed and impeccably fitting indigo blue suit with a white shirt underneath and a long bow tie with small patterns all over it.

No doubt gorgeous, this set of clothes was not at all in the style of his homeland, but in reality, it did not bother him too much. He was a Snow — it was he who dictated the rules of how he dressed.

"This is a party. The next morning, no one, even the bitch Cardew, who was standing in that corner pouring slop on me and Philo, getting drunk as always, would remember anything from here. And anyway, being an outcast here isn't so bad. At least I can honestly be one of them somewhere, without getting into their dances..." A hiccuping sound was heard from behind, followed by the sound of liquid hitting the tiled floor, drowned out by the screaming music.

A thin laugh followed and Aster hurried to turn away before he could throw up. Well, here you go. It looks like someone miscalculated the dose of emetic and rolled right onto the floor, ignoring the standard packet. And most importantly, those around him didn't give a damn: they were dancing to the music, and they continued to dance to it, although what else did he expect — this is the Capitol, no one gives a damn about anyone here. 

Not even caring that the smell of vomit was spreading through the room at an incredible speed or that someone could simply slip and break their legs — they continued to stuff their stomachs with sweets, diluting them first with champagne or something stronger, and then polishing this cocktail with one pink medicine from satiety. 

Aster threw his head back, and his gaze stopped on the trays of cakes, pastries, donuts, and colorful eclairs that the Avoxes were either offering or those that rested on shiny carts.

"All this is just a huge pile of sugar," young Snow repeated under his breath, trying to protect himself from premature acne. 

Damn diet, damn it all. Indeed, just a wonderful party: not allowed to drink and couldn't eat anything either. Even the music did not amuse — this entire ridiculous party was just one of a thousand checkboxes that Aster felt obliged to put on his long list going by the heading of: "Well, you are a Snow!"  

Fighting his twitching eye, the boy emptied his drink, the ice which had long since melted, and glanced at his watch: only 11 PM, seriously? 

"And it feels like I've been standing here for a fucking eternity," the young man exhaled. It would be fine if everyone, like most of his classmates, was simply shaking from alcohol or shoving down various sweets and cakes, washing it down with vomiting. But no!  

His gaze fell on the three sofas that the host of the party had arranged in a square — over there was not even the Capitol, but rather some District 6, famous for its problems with morphling. In the middle stood a glass table, filled to the brim with metal trays, which the boy did not even need to look at; it was obvious what was there. 

Several of Aster's classmates picked up the bright green straws and, like hungry animals, greedily bit into them, pouring the contents down their throats. Their heads fell back on the soft backs of the sofas while they either puffed loudly or sometimes screamed at the ceiling.

Of course, only a few did this — for them, it was a "thrill”, a “pipe dream”, yet it didn’t make the situation better. The always freakish Rufina Cox, whose hair was very close to illuminating orange, squealed with delight, splashing acid near her face, and leaned against the host’s shoulder, while the rest of them just silently let their brains melt. 

"Hooray for the Capitol!" someone from the crowd shouted, and the other five people laughed, quickly putting the straws with green poison into their mouths, not being able to stop. 

Aster, still having no idea what his face looked like from any other side, could only sigh as Tertius Canville smiled up and started to open the second straw, having barely managed to swallow the first one. 

"What a barnyard. Does this idiot want to croak by the age of nineteen? He won't even live to see the days of graduation."   

What was happening at that party made his stomach turn — the Capitol never shied away from demonstrating the most explicit parts of its life, fully embracing it. Public sex between almost minors, the drugs, and the shameless dancing with fully adult prostitutes were not news for the top of the pyramid. 

As a Capitolite to his core, Aster was expected to love those things — but either his father’s raising helped, since the President of Panem was disgusted by the very concept of brothels, or that the young Snow himself had at least a shadow of dignity left, that he would have preferred to keep. 

"Hey. Aster, hey!" he was pulled out of his thoughts by a light fist in the shoulder from Cyril. With a hiss, Snow glanced sideways first at Crane, and then at the huge wine stain on his snow-white suit, which almost merged with the same white hair, and with difficulty managed to hold back his laughter. 

"Did they spill it on you or did you do it yourself?" 

"Nobody warned me that holding a tray of meringue and putting a glass on it was a bad idea," Cyril laughed and his friend, muttering "idiot", slapped him on the shoulder. 

While Crane was being poured more of the foaming, transparent-blue liquid, his friends stood nearby and quietly chuckled at their acquaintances, throwing occasional worrying glances at Canville — just a little more and he could overdo it again. 

“Alright — only a bit more time and I am out of here,” briefly rolling his eyes, Aster poured himself some more of the drinks, just to drown out the feeling of boredom and hopelessness that had been surrounding him since the very beginning of this party.

There was little genuine fun in watching people stuffing their bellies, downing liters of cocktails, or boiling their brains with poisonous acid. 

"You said you ate sweets? And how much of that went into your stomach?" 

"Now that’s a mean one, Starboy. Two or three at most!" Cyril laughed, as always keeping his usually positive attitude. 

After about twenty minutes, during which they did not dance or have fun, but simply chatted about nothing, while plates were flying around them, the sound of slurping cakes could be heard, laughter was cackling and alcohol was flowing like rivers, Aster turned around and, to his displeasure, saw how Tertius, having already opened the third straw and sucked through the contents, threw his head back and did not move. Only his mouth, like that poisonous puffer fish with which he almost got poisoned at one of the banquets, awkwardly opened and closed again. 

“This little… Again?!” Trying not to scream, Snow put his glass aside and walked quickly to the sofa, hoping nobody could see them. “Cyril, quickly; to the common room, and bring in some mineral water. And fast!”

That moment wasn’t a surprise for them, much more, the two friends expected it — this happened almost every time Tertius invited them to his parties. 

Best drugs.   

Best supply.  

Yet he could never stop even when it was enough.   

Luckily this time the sea salt was in his pants pocket and Aster, while trying his best not to turn inside out from the sight of this pathetic picture, brushed Tertius’ messy, deep blue hair off his face. It wasn't the first time his classmate's eyes had looked at him, going cross in one place. 

Canville barely blinked and most likely didn't understand where he was while Snow shoved the sea salt brought from District 4 down his throat — the four others like him also didn't understand what was happening, although they were more fortunate; they passed out after the first tube and were now happily 'flying' in their heads, lying on the couches. 

Crane returned just in time, holding an ice-cold bottle of water. 

"How is he?" the white-haired teen asked worriedly, snapping his finger in front of the acid lover's face, giving the guy's olive skin a few light slaps, just so he wouldn't pass out. 

“Well, if the stupid moron still breathes, it seems we made it on time. Again,” Aster smiled with satisfaction when Tertius was forced to take a few sips of water and, although he hadn't come to his senses, at least began to react to the roaring music. "Alright, breathe out — he's safe, so we're out of trouble... For now."

The two friends took this loser by the arms and laid him on the sofa with his whole body, having first turned his head towards the back: as if to say, don't even think about repeating it.

Aster cast a look full of disdain at the tray with the haphazardly scattered straws and pointed at it, silently telling Cyril: "straight into the trash." His friend obeyed, and the son of the President of Panem was left alone with this blue-haired turkey, whose brains had long since been burned out by acid. 

That. Fucking. Acid. 

It was only a little scary the first time — when Tertius Canville’s eyes had slid down right in front of Aster at the first party he attended, squinting, how he only mumbled something unintelligible with a stupid smile on his face and how Snow wanted to scream then, calling either security or an ambulance. 

How good that he had enough sense not to call his father then! Otherwise, he would not have been allowed out of the house, let alone to parties. Later, he simply got used to it: for him, this was now only a source of irritation, not a shock. This is the Capitol. The Great Capitol in all its beauty and grace. 

“I am so done with both you and your crap," Aster grabbed Canville by the shoulder and began to shake it: zero reaction. “It is as if you exist to only get in trouble and torture me for it”.

With a grimace of pity and disgust, he left this insignificant body alone, which is why he, having mumbled something at the end, collapsed on the sofa again. 

Incomprehensibly for himself, Snow did not move from the spot, continuing to stand almost with his ears in the speakers, looking at one point; at his face. At the body that did not move. This one would flush his entire promising future down the drain. People like him got into the newspapers, in pieces titled: "The elite family’s son dies in an accident."  

Of course, no one would ever tell the truth about the overdose — the Capitol is obliged to maintain a high standard and be an example for others, despite rotting from the inside. 

His feet seemed to have grown to the ground while Aster gulped for air — it seemed he had overestimated himself, he would not get used to this anytime soon. Snow was again pulled out of these thoughts of almost dirtying his feet with some consumed drinks, pulled out by none other than Cyril Crane, who had easily made his presence known, being brighter than any club lights. 

“You won't believe who I just saw — your bitchy girl is standing there on stage right now!”

"Who?" Aster thought in confusion, still trying to come to his senses. As every single person in their social circle knew, he was not dating anyone yet, and did not plan to do so in the near future, so who was this simpleton talking about?

Oh, Cardew is so dead if she spreads the rumors that they are together. Before hurling accusations, Snow looked at Crane disapprovingly, to which he only laughed. 

“Oh, don't play dumb with me, alright, snowdrop? I saw everything — the way you looked at that monster from the Districts, and the way you went to chat with her after class,” Cyril nudged Aster in the shoulder with a predatory smile on his face. 

Shit. There was no need to ask again, Snow immediately understood that the conversation was about... Doris. 

His girl?!   

Damn. If that is what people think of him, he is so dead. 

There were a lot of not so nice words flooding Aster’s mind, yet now he just needed an excuse to get out of this cyclamen-pink which also smelled of vomit, perfume, and alcohol. Away from Tertius Canville and the other stoned people like him, lying on the couches like corpses — so that, at least for a second, he could pretend that he was surrounded by someone normal, and not a bunch of incompetent idiots who put their own pleasure above their duty to Panem. 

He chose to leave. To see the Sea Girl.

“It is a party after all — I can allow myself at least a bit of uplifting in that horrid place,” he said, as his heart was pounding from both the music and the excitement. 

Leaning his hand on Cyril's shoulder, he found the strength to tear his gaze away from Tertius, and the young men left the pink room, quietly making their way to where all the adults were. 

"It's even more depressing here than here — how is that even possible?" Aster only needed to glance at the black and white, a much simpler and less rowdy hall to understand it. Well, at least no one was dancing around like monkeys or throwing plates that crunched pieces of porcelain under their shoes... However, he did not pay attention to anyone, except for the brightly lit stage, on which another Capitolite singer in a white dress made entirely of something like ostrich feathers was belting out notes in a vulgarly sweet voice. 

"It's not her, you eggplant,” Aster said, holding back his laughter, but Crane only slapped him on the back of the head, pointing to a group of six young, nondescript singers in the back, who, based on the performance, should have felt lucky to be allowed to insert one tiny word or an unfortunate note, with their voices drowning in autotune. 

"Look there, but not there, moron! There she is, the second one from the edge!" He did not want to believe such nonsense until the very end, yet when he looked where Cyril was pointing and took a closer look at the spot under the light, she was indeed there. 

This time without a guitar or her sea-colored blazer, dressed in a simple black dress with straps, Doris was made to do small dance moves and wasn’t allowed to open her mouth, probably so that she would not completely outshine the doll that was now under the spotlight and whose howls were already starting to get on Aster's nerves. Standing right near the stage was annoying, yet he somehow felt like it was all worth it.  

He then looked closer. The makeup on O’Harrow was subtle yet elegant, with dark lipstick suiting her like no other, her hair was straightened out: instead of her usual style, she had on one braid on the left side. Without wasting words, she was gorgeous.  

"She's surely kidding..." He didn't even want to ask what she was doing here — it was obvious to a fool — to make money. But why the hell, of all the places in the Capitol, did she choose this one? That very one club, where he was going for a party once in a lifetime? 

No, that was no coincidence. Was it a joke by those 12 idiots? Or a setup by his father? Aster Snow had millions of questions, yet no answer to a single one of them. 

He didn't understand how long he stood by the stage, looking at her with his mouth half-open like a complete idiot. All he could hear were the sluggish dances of the adults, stuck like a fly in a jam, and the laughter of Crane, who understood exactly what the expression of strange admiration on his best friend's face meant. 

“Aster. Your tastes for sure are… something — of all the pretty girls from that pathetic group, you set your sights on the ugliest and rudest one?”

This poor fool is truly dancing on the thinnest ice imaginable. And where does he even find this kind of audacity?

“Let me repeat this clearly — I am interested in nobody. Especially anyone District. Me and O’Harrow have a deal, which makes us project partners.” 

That was a lie. Since their small fight, Doris has been avoiding him like a plague so much, that he could consider any potential “deals” a fall-through. Yet it is not needed for Cyril to know, hence Snow didn’t stop, now choosing to fire back:

“And who is here is in love. Look at yourself: so many beauties around, and you've been chasing Iolanthe since elementary school like a lost puppy,” Aster nudged him in the shoulder and Cyril's smile widened. “Accept it, buddy, Io’s not built for relationships. Especially with a Crazy Crane.” 

“So, should I tell the others not to bother that one, because she's already taken?...By you.”

“You dare do that, I am personally throwing you into the Hunger Games Arena,” without turning his head, Aster dropped this terrible threat with such a casual expression on his face and smiled as if he had just told a funny joke. 

“Oh thank you, the great heir! My birthday is actually in six months, and you decided to give me a present now?” He was almost clapping at that news, as if an Arena was nothing more than an adrenaline pumping vacation for this thrill seeker.

"That mental idiot."   

Crane laughed and went to the side to get a drink, leaving the 'lover' to admire the girl who interested him so much. And Aster really did not move from his place, sincerely happy when that rubber doll on the stage let Doris sing at least a portion of a sound.

At first, he thought that not just black, but any dull color would not suit her — Aster was already used to seeing her in bright colors, with guitar in hand, but suddenly he realized that even if she put on a potato sack, he of course would certainly laugh at her, and Doris would still manage to look presentable in it. 

Suddenly, the girl turned her head, stopping looking into space for a second — this second was enough to notice Aster because the young man was standing almost in the first rows and was one of the few who were looking at this scene, not doing their own thing. O’Harrow seemed to be looking at him alone. 

She did not smile, did not wave, or show off, but her gaze remained riveted to the son of the president of Panem. "It does not suit her to be in the shadows at all. She should be the one in the spotlight while she dances and jumps on stage, with her guitar…”  

It didn’t matter that Doris was not the star of the show that night. It did not matter how flamboyant and bright the clothes and Capitol dresses were — to Aster for some reason, her simple black dress was outshining every single one of the fancy outfits in which he felt like drowning. 

The performance lasted a long time and now, having sung her last verse of another cloying song, the 'singer' bowed to the applause of people clouded by alcohol, and the girls from the backing vocals quickly left the stage with her. 

“Four!... Doris!” 

Fuck. That was his chance and he decided to not miss it. The figure stopped, roughly turning her head towards Aster. The music wasn’t as loud in their ears as in the teens’ section, hence at least she managed to hear him. He expected her to almost mentally spit into his face and leave, but instead, the girl walked towards him, her face furrowed more and more with every step she took. 

Aster did not, in fact, act like a scared child in front of her. Didn’t examine Doris from head to toe, only noticing on the little thing how their clothes were not clashing with each other. Their last talk had left a lot to be desired, hence the heir was determined to clear the tension. 

What? He did not want any problems with that group in the future, as they all looked O’Harrow in the mouth — that Sea Girl managed to waltz her way into the affection of both his mother and Philomel. She wasn’t anything special, yet required special care. Aster coughed, immediately taking the matters of the conversation into his own hands — besides the obvious “sorry”, he also needed his answers. 

“May I ask you what an exchange student is doing… Here?” Aster tried to speak quieter but soon realized that simply no one was paying them any attention. Good, less problems, less publicity. “If you didn’t notice, it is a club, Doris”. 

“And I forgot since when my business became yours. Go to your rich buddies, you are surely missing all of the fun.”

And this is why he hates talking to her. Easily, Doris O’Harrow is one of the most difficult people to connect with and talk to. Yet Snow was not someone about to give up, hence he used another strategy — it wasn’t time for smiles, since Aster tried to avoid playing nice in front of her ever again. It would be useless either way.  

“Who else knows?” He asked in a tone where care had managed to sneak in, and Doris looked the Capitol boy straight in the eyes for that comment. 

“Got this spot tonight thanks to a connection. No, no one knows, no I will not be telling them either”.

Of course, Philo, it had to be her — such a selfless thing, allowing both herself and her supposed best friend to be idiots together. 

A thing that a lot both hated and admired in Aster was as soon as he got any information inside his precious box of a brain, he almost always knew right away how to exactly use it. While the young heir was still far away from the greatness of his supposedly perfect father, as he was more of a jabberjay than a cunning, deadly snake, it never made Aster any less wary opponent. 

O’Harrow was pretty smart for her upbringing, so she could never miss the signs — she kept herself composed enough, for sure trying to hide the fact that he had just caught her red-handed. Now, she needed to give back something valuable to him and think of it fast.

“…I just needed some extra cash. That’s pretty much all,” she spat out angrily, as Snow made her bring out her small secret. 

Now that was weird. Why would a scholarship student with a grant from the First Lady of Panem herself ever need to work gigs? And risk it all, since she had no license or permission to work in the Capitol? 

This is what Aster had failed to grasp. 

“But I at least have to tell ma. What if your… friends are now looking for you and you’re nowhere to be found?” This caused Doris to become even more annoyed, as she seemingly was barely holding away steam from her nostrils. 

“Do not act like you care, Snow,” the girl threw her head back, putting both hands on her wide hips, and stared at Aster straight, without breaking contact. “…Alright, what would it take for you to shut up?”

Silence. The answer came out on its own, without Aster ever managing to control whatever was rolling out of his tongue since it was much faster than his brain. 

“A dance.” 

He quickly regretted what he said, when noticing how Doris was staring at him, with a look that could have frozen volcanoes. For some time, they were not speaking much, only letting the music, which was much slower than the chaotic notes from the teens’ room, echo through every inch of their bodies. 

The Sea Girl waited. And then gave Aster her hand. 

“Do not try anything funny,” she demanded, and that earned her a side-eye from the Snow family’s heir. 

“I should be asking you the same thing.”  

And so the Capitol’s Gem and the District guitarist danced — the young man was true to his word, never touching her anywhere besides the shoulders and Doris wasn’t about to trouble his feet in revenge. Somehow, following the sounds of music, a special rhythm had found the pair; every single note of bitterness was gone, only uncomfortableness and a thick wall between them stayed. 

Yet it shouldn’t be like this. Aster did not want to accept that at first, but while fighting with the District girl was satisfying, the cons greatly outweighed the pros. Since when was he even bothered by what some rando thought? 

A couple of months ago, he had no idea about her existence, now she had broken into their lives, turning the previously perfect setup upside down, along with her friends in colorful shirts and no self-preservation. 

Aster could not lie — Doris knew how to dance, greatly feeling the rhythm. Might as well be a better dancer than he was, which a smug satisfaction on her otherwise stoic face practically screamed about. Both of them weren’t smiling, it was nothing fun or entertaining, like the dance of snow and fire which the President and his Songbird were performing every time their pass was crossing. 

No, that was much different — it was a serene ocean washing through the drifting ice blocks on it, being close to crushing every single one with its salt, and the ice not giving in. Doris then raised her hand, and Aster understood the next move — they barely differentiated in height, hence the girl made a slight curtsy, letting Snow spin her only one time. 

“Why did you agree on that?” Aster decided to continue with his questions, not letting off the string of the conversation. “I fully expected to hear a list of choice words from your mouth after my offer.”

It was the first time Doris had slightly smiled that night. 

“...Just didn’t want to be known as someone who punched the President’s son in the face.”

And where does she even find that level of audacity? It took some inner breathing for Aster to swallow his pride and not pick up the fight — surely, she was doing it on purpose, to show that his polished, collected, and calm persona has only been nothing but a poorly kept facade. No, he wouldn’t let this happen — this project would not get into scandals, and he would not be the cause of disappointment of his mother, just because he couldn’t find proper compromises. 

What kind of a president would he be, if he cannot handle a bunch of District brats? 

“Listen, Four. Our last talk didn’t go as I intended, so I hope that we can clear the air between us. Deal?” He let go of Doris’ hand, theatrically bowing as a way to thank for the dance. 

“Deal. Not here, the music is driving me crazy — how do you Capitoles even listen to that?” 

“I would gladly ask you the same thing.”  

O’Harrow wasn’t looking that annoyed anymore, keeping her usual calm exterior, noticing that the rich spoiled boy wasn’t about to start drama over her comment, despite her face looking ice cold. 

“Twenty minutes and I am out of here,” Aster promised and the girl, nodding in response, was immediately blown off by the wind, not bothering to say goodbye and only earning another eyeroll from Snow. 

Obviously, he didn’t plan to stay in that place for even a minute longer — he hated, hated parties, Capitol or not. Now, that encounter gave him a perfect chance of running away, just so he wouldn’t ever have to witness the disgusting image of the supposed “elite” drowning out their future in alcohol and acid. 

And so he left.   

˚｡⋆❅⋆｡˚

Stepping out the back door of the club into the chilly, night air, the young man took a deep breath, surprised at how cold it can be when standing somewhere for a long time without going inside or quickly jumping into the car. 

Despite that, the Capitol continued as dazzling as ever with its grandeur — as always, there was no moon in sight, but this time it was the fault of the clouds that had covered the sky to the horizon. 

Aster leaned against the wall, losing track of time until the door slammed open and the hurrying, fluttering figure almost knocked him over.  

“Snow?” Aster turned his head and slightly waved before his and O’Harrow’s faces were once again opposing each other. 

“What are you doing here, this is a staff exit,” the girl crossed her arms in displeasure; she had gotten rid of her party black dress, now wearing a sea-green sweater, hiding her hands in the pockets of a black vest thrown over it. The somewhat frosty air began showing on her cheeks, turning both them and her nose the shade of cold red, yet Four wasn’t shaking or displaying any significant emotions to read her properly.

“Do I look the same right now?” Thought Aster, attempting to quickly gather his thoughts.

“I don't remember people from the Districts being "staff" at the Capitol clubs,” Doris started to go down the steps and the young man followed her, to her extreme displeasure. “And anyway, since we planned to talk, I should be asking you this question: are you following me?” 

Doris turned around sharply, and a first smirk of this evening had appeared on her face. 

“Don't pump your price, Snow, it's not about you at all. I just wanted money, that's all. If I knew a group of Capitolite morons were going to be here, I wouldn't want to even breathe the same air as you.”

Then, without hearing him out further, Doris turned on her heel and hurried away from the company of the biggest “Capitol moron” on that street — who could blame her, after all. Snow knew that she was right, yet for some reason still wanted her to see the bigger picture. 

He and Philo weren’t the same as others, he was different. He had to actually work, do something with his life, and not just exist in this seemingly unfair world — as an heir of the Snow family, Aster deserved every little thing he had gotten, now it is only up to Doris to see that. 

“The transport stop is in the other direction! Aster first shouted, surprised by how quickly he managed to lose his usually stern, calm mask.

The girl stopped abruptly and looked at him with a stare, that could have melted the ice on top of District 6 mountains, leaving no traces of it. 

“What. What do you want from me, Snow?” She took a step back, Aster stayed in place, internally thanking his luck that he did not drink at this damned party. 

The heir hesitated with an answer. Usually, he would have said something that only seemed stupid to make himself look more relatable, or like at the Academy among friends, would have cracked some generally funny joke and left it at that. But it wouldn't work with her — too straightforward, too serious. So, he would still have to apologize for his behavior; doesn’t matter that he wants to do neither currently, or rather never at all. 

At this, one of his father's quotes popped into his head: "Snows never apologize, Snows come and take."  

"Sorry dad, today I'll bend over backwards. But this is only for one time," was the last thing the young man thought about when he finally opened his mouth, choosing his words carefully:

“Listen, Four — forgive me for my words at that tree. I… Should've been more welcoming, I guess.” 

Doris, although she looked at him with distrust and her burning eyes did not disappear anywhere after the apology, still stepped forward, holding out her hand for a handshake: exactly like their first meeting. 

“Apology accepted,” Aster shook her hand quickly but already felt how cold it was. The girl raised her previously lowered head and this time did not break eye contact as quickly, as in all of their previous interactions.

“Didn’t want to be that person, but the tram stop is still in the other direction.” 

“I don't have money for a ticket," Doris shook her shoulders like it wasn’t such a big deal. “It's about ten kilometers to our dorm, I'll go on foot.”

Her answer surprised the young man — he could have called for a car right then and there and offered to give her a ride to the dorm, no matter where it was, yet judging by her appearance, Doris was not one of those who accepted other people's handouts, and especially not from 'Snow', at whom she had spat poison just a minute ago. 

And besides, a stuffy cab was the last place he wanted to go after everything he'd seen at the party... A walk might not be so bad, if they could, well. Normally make up and finally have a human conversation after their headbutting and endless bickering. 

"Okay. Inhale. Exhale. Come on," Aster mentally counted to three and then slightly smiled at Doris. 

"Listen: how about I walk you back to your dorm? Since it is nighttime and unsafe to walk around without knowing the city." 

"Unsafe? Is your perfect little Capitol? Yeah, sure, Snow — walk me back so you and your crazy, overdressed friends can dungbomb us or plan anything else with our only place of living? No way." 

Aster wasn't about to give in, but he didn't understand the complaint — in fact, he found himself thinking that if he hadn't been so interested in her, he'd have done exactly as she'd described. 

“There's a really beautiful fountain a couple of kilometers away, I can take you there. And then I'll leave you alone, promise,” both even laughed a little. Doris tossed her hair, tucking it under a thin, gray scarf with a black stripe at her throat, and nodded affirmatively. 

“Are all of the Capitol parties indeed such a pathetic sight, that a rich top of freaks runs away from there to walk with... With whom, with a pathetic woman? With an animal from the Districts?” 

"What have I just gotten myself into..." Aster groaned to himself, walking next to Doris and showing her the safest way to the fountain. 

“You're not an animal, and I don't consider you one, — he muttered under his breath,” whether Doris heard him or not, Aster would most likely never know. 

He didn't expect that walking with her would be so pleasant. Mostly, the girl was quiet, or even silent — in response, Aster was silent too, letting her enjoy the view. Sometimes, to look at some skyscraper, Doris would lift her head so high that she would arch her neck like a bridge, with Aster worrying that she would break it. 

She was not interested in colorful glass displays, hiding vases of sweets behind them, and not giving a glance at the clothing stores. 

Instead, Doris peered into the distance, hoping to see the "Old Capitol" — the area, which President Snow kept as a memory for the Rebellion, only slightly cleaning everything up. It was a saying that hasn't changed at all since the 10th Hunger Games, where Aster’s parents’ paths had crossed forever. 

“If the whole Capitol were like that tiny piece, I might as well want to live here,” Doris suddenly broke the established silence, making Aster jump, causing the girl to laugh. 

“And how... Beautiful? Do you like it here?” 

“To like the Capitol, you have to be a Capitolite, so you might have a problem with that. I hate the falsehood that is not just everywhere here — this city is made of it,” Doris glanced at the majestic statue holding a sword in her hand: another symbol of the Capitol's power.  

It was difficult to swallow this bitterly unpleasant pill. Snow inhaled and exhaled several times, turning to face the girl. 

“Falsehood, you say? What about your District 4?” Having said that Doris glanced out of the corner of her eye at the huge body of water inside the Capitol, keeping her silence for a good minute. Perhaps she thinks of home, looking at this water... 

“...What is your District 4 like?" Of course, it could not be better than the Capitol, yet Aster was willing to ‘give’ the girl a discount on her judgment since she probably had the fondest memories of it. 

“The same as in your idiotic promo videos: sea, sea, and more sea. But, honestly, I do not complain, since it can be pretty fun living there… Some of our others don’t even have that. Smaller in Four kids build sand castles on the shore, decorating them with shells, babies' toys are dried starfish and corals, women dive for shellfish and weave nets, and fishermen hang out in their boats until sunset, catching fish.” 

Doris glanced at the sky as if trying to make out the stars in it, but it was useless — not only for the clouds, but the light of the huge city was also in the way. After the pointless search, her gaze shifted first to the pond again, and only then to the face of the interlocutor. 

Hearing her, Aster did not know what Doris expected to make him feel with that little touching speech — did she want him to foam at the mouth admiring a District, where people spend their entire lives sniffing fish and air mixed with rot and algae? Ew. The very thought of it made his stomach turn, and he wasn’t one bit ashamed. 

But on the other hand, she liked it: O'Harrow looked happy when she talked about her homeland — there was no doubt, that Doris was definitely the daughter of her District.

Despite its initial wealth, which not all districts in Panem could boast of, District 4 proudly called itself the "Freedom District", always stood apart from the One and Two, which, for helping the Capitol during the rebellion, received certain privileges, and District 2 even fell at their feet. 

In order not to directly respond to her story and not to touch on the political side, Aster closed and then opened his eyes again, looking at the water — and indeed, it was beautiful when it reflected the light like this: from simply transparent, it became red, pink, bright blue. The same colors as at the party, only... There was no desire to run away. 

“...At home, I could spend hours on the beach: I would go into the water up to my knees, sit on the wet sand, and watch the setting sun. Sometimes I would dive and not swim up until I found a clam — there could even be a pearl in those, you know? A natural one.” 

Her voice became kinder, filled with nostalgia, and Aster smiled. 

“Wow... — I didn't know about your swimming skills, I thought you were just singing. Well, you take your guitar, put on another bright outfit, and on stage, to win people's hearts.” 

"What?" Doris chuckled, laughing more at the absurdity of what she had heard. "It seems you just described your mother, Miss Lucy Gray, and not me; besides music, I actually have many hobbies." 

"... Lady Lucy Gray Snow,” Aster’s tone turned dry when he felt like correcting such a huge mistake was the right thing to do. 

"She tells us to call her that. But you know, about the bright clothes and such; I'm not a big fan of flashy colors, I prefer something more subdued or toned down," she must have enjoyed watching Snow's increasingly confused expression, based on how her eyebrows twitched, acting as if she was just told the funniest of jokes. 

"What a twist — and she looks like someone whose favorite color could only be bright red..."  

"I thought you liked everything noticeable — you are such a... star among your group." 

"Since when?" the girl tilted her head as if looking into his soul. There was no aggression in her voice. Her earlier desire to humiliate and trample his pride, like Cardew tried to do every single day, was now simply gone. Aster only caught a hint of condemnation, but even that was small. He had nothing to cling to because of this lack of hysteria or emotion, which made him feel ashamed.

He didn't answer her, and even if he had, what could he have said? "I already decided which one of the colors would be your favorite? And came up with your habits all on my own?"  

Oh no. Then it would be the stupidest answer in history, and the girl would forever remember that the great Snow was such an idiot with an unpleasantly detailed imagination. 

"Don't go into the ocean without knowing its depth," the young man heard O’Harrow’s quiet voice, while the front strands of her hair began to rustle in the wind, while Aster noticed that she still had a braid on the side, in which he had previously seen a black ribbon woven in; now even the trace of it was gone. 

Doris turned her back to the pond and put her arms bent at the elbows on the back of the fence; it was unclear why, instead of hurrying her to go, Aster seemed to freeze along with her. Really, and when else would he be able to spend time like this? Every day of his life would be either at the Academy, a park, or back at his house. And that's if he would be allowed to go outside after this little stunt! But honestly, that moment was worth it all. 

For the first time that evening, Snow felt real euphoria — no acid tubes, alcohol, or deafening music were needed. All he needed was this bridge where nobody paid attention to the two teens, and for such a strange person as O’Harrow to be near. 

Strange, confusing. She could walk around with a sour expression for about half an hour, only to start laughing at him just as abruptly, yet this laughter was not cruel either. What a weirdo... 

Although no — he and only he is the weirdo here, since he stuck to a girl from the District and for some reason did not step aside. 

"Maybe this is the curse of a Snow: to find and hang around with girls from the districts? What is that, the second time in a row?" Aster allowed himself to laugh at the whole absurdity of the situation. Yet while he was chuckling, Doris wasn’t. 

She didn’t move, allowed the chill to go through her body, but did not reply or acknowledge Aster’s attempt to bring in the mood — although he did not notice, the young heir indeed looked the most similar to his mother at that moment. 

This was that thing that always threw O’Harrow off — how. How was it even possible to have the face of that woman, yet the heart of the cruel President Snow? Aster did not get it, and Doris did not voice her concerns. 

Both didn’t move an inch, the thoughts about the fountain had vanished, when they realized at the very same time, that the cold wall between them was slowly, almost drip by drip, melting away. 

Suddenly, a loud horn was heard across the bridge and both teenagers shuddered. The magic of silence disappeared and they both immediately realized how cold they were. Doris held on steadfastly, although she quickly hid her hands back in her pockets. Aster was shaking like an aspen, but the girl from the District next to her did not allow him to complain about anything. 

Having recovered from a moment, he took a closer look and could not believe his eyes — on the road stood... His mother’s dark blue car. Oh no.  

"Aster, why are you outside, didn’t you say that you were at a party?” The car window rolled down and, to Doris and Aster's even greater surprise, the head of the First Lady herself poked out.

She looked worried but also seemed to be completely oblivious to what was happening, not even noticing Doris at first. Aster immediately cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together, and quickly and politely waved to his mother, which Doris, apparently, also found very... Nice? Weird? 

“Ma, listen, I'm sorry,” he began to stutter and was already thinking about how to justify his escape: only inwardly he thank his infinite luck that his mother had come here and not his father. Otherwise, he would have been let out of the house in a month at best. “I just wanted to… To walk Doris through the Capitol, she didn’t have the money for a tram…”

Standing next, Doris smiled sincerely and waved to her headmistress as well. But instead of greeting her in return, the two teenagers received a very strange reaction — Lucy Gray looked at her own son and the girl standing next to him with undisguised horror, mixed with surprise and incomprehension on her face. 

No. No. 

She saw the smile that was still on her son's face until he saw her. The smile intended for Doris O’Harrow... The smile of a young, strange, awkward infatuation, which she once received from Coriolanus. Her Coryo. 

"Please, someone. Just tell me I imagined it all and that I'm talking nonsense…” Lucy Gray thought, quickly getting out of the car and bringing the two inside it, not accepting a “no” from Doris and quickly putting a stop to this small flick of her son’s rebelling, without asking any questions. 

The road was silent. Doris couldn't bring herself to speak, yet purposefully moved away from Aster as far as she could, not without thanking both him and his mother each time. The boy himself felt like dying from literal embarrassment, feeling thousands of conflicting emotions gathering in a bottle, mixing into all kinds of different colors and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

He almost missed the moment when Doris left — just he leaned his cheek against the chilly window and felt the car stopping a single time near the place that wasn’t the Presidential Palace. Aster looked her in the eyes one last time and waved her goodbye. The Sea Girl responded with a slight nod and Aster couldn’t even bring himself to feel offended, like he always would do. 

“I wouldn’t like to fight with you anymore. How about finally working together?” These were his last thoughts that he couldn’t bring to say out loud before the car door had shut down. Lucy Gray had refused to comment on that, way until the late night, when the long, annoying roads of the Capitol finally allowed the mother and son to return home. Aster couldn’t decide where to begin their talk, yet Lucy Gray was the first to act. 

Like dragging a small, helpless kitten that didn’t have its eyes open yet, the woman took Aster by his shoulder and practically dragged him towards the gate, as he kept quiet. He had no place to talk, the boy knew that he had somehow screwed up. 

His mother was shaking, with her eyes round and breath trembling, all while she tried to keep herself together — it took Lucy Gray locking a spare room’s door, getting her head out about 3 times, and checking just about every corner before finally managing to open her mouth. 

“What were you and… Doris doing out there?” 

“Nothing,” Aster tried to keep his beating heart down, biting his inner cheek until he could feel the taste of blood running down his tongue. “Met by complete accident, talking about the project.”

He knew that it was a lie. He knew that Lucy Gray figured out that it was a lie — yet the heir felt the traps catching up to him, and the only way of avoiding them was to do something that he was the best at.  Which was to try and lie in front of a liar. 

Doris was nothing — both to him and in the case of relationships, so it shouldn’t be that hard. 

“Just relax,” young Snow demanded of himself and then, suddenly, felt his mother’s deathly cold hands clasping around his shoulders. 

At that moment, Aster immediately started to feel small — he had long outgrown his mother in height, yet as soon as she looked at him with her deep colored eyes, which had no spark in them, almost telling him to ‘keep your mouth shut’, any words he could have said in his defense had quickly left his drying throat. 

“This girl here — do you know how much she was working to be able to afford a quarter of the privileges you get?” Lucy Gray began and Aster’s mind immediately started clouding from pure shame. “She is the best in her District, her future is so, so bright, you understand?”

“But Ma, I—”

“Aster,” she pressed further. “Doris has a career on her way — too much on this plate to even consider whatever you may offer.”

How — just how does she always manage to read him so, so perfectly? Keeping secrets from his mother was a horrid idea from the very beginning. Aster still couldn’t grasp the full idea of what she was saying, so he attempted to get at least some answers out of her tight grip. 

“Listen, I swear, I wasn’t thinking of anything bad,” he stammered, almost hoping that his mother valued him the tiniest bit, to not think that was capable of using Doris in any malicious ways. That he was just like the others. “Again, we were only talking, nothing more.”

“Look at me, baby,” Lucy Gray pleaded and Aster thought for a second that he saw tears — no, his ma wasn’t like that. She would have never cried over something so trivial, not after surviving the Hunger Games… And 9 years of Capitol life. “You have seen me and your father, right? You saw what Capitol does to poor, naive girls — lucky stars, Doris is way smarter than I could have ever been her age; if only I had her brains, I wouldn’t be standing in front of you right now.”

Someone began slowly pulling the knife out of Aster’s heart, twisting it all on the way out — of course, he as always couldn’t be enough. Neither he nor Philo was enough to compensate for the pain of a songbird losing her wings and her air of freedom.

They were not enough to make Lucy Gray love her life. 

“...Yes, ma. I have seen you. Both of you,” Aster spoke with a defeated tone in his voice. 

“I love this girl — would have never wished my fate on her in any universe — she is not built for the Capitol, dear. She does not deserve to go through the life I loathe every day. Did we get each other? ”

Lucy Gray was not asking. She also wasn’t begging — she was ordering her foolish son to step away, to not make the same mistake that she once did. Nothing good would come out of that either way — when Coriolanus broke the rules one time to marry his beautiful songbird, he was not setting a precedent in the Snow family to just blindly accept any ties with the lowborns. 

That was only for him and him alone, with Aster getting it way earlier than he should have been. 

Now, Lucy Gray was not the one crying. He was. 

The woman sat him on the couch, carefully rubbing his back and Aster tried his best to contain his slow, dripping tears — obviously, what could he ever hope for? O’Harrow hates him either way, even acting remotely interested in hopes of a reciprocation would have been a danger. Especially… What if his father knows about that?  

That way he for sure will be screwed. 

“Make the right choice, son — I truly want to believe your claims, so prove them. Please, it is not that hard to do the right thing for once; I trust you Aster, you are… Such, such a good kid,” Lucy Gray muttered, while he could see the whole world full of pain and sorrow in those black eyes that were looking at him with a slight bit of hope. 

The young heir lowered his head and did not say anything in his defense. Only nodded, having long accepted any defeat, that life might throw at him. 

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“One day he will understand.”  

Lucy Gray was leaning against the presidential office door for so long, that she had lost track of time — it was a long night, yet Coriolanus’ stiff, firm voice behind the thick door was not getting quieter at all. 

It was hard to properly catch a breather, but she knew that at the end of the day, it would all be worth it — no way, not on her watch would Doris be subjected to the same fate that she once was. Now look at her — a bright performer in the past, now turned into a shell of her former self because of the Capitol, which sucked out all of her colors. 

“The Capitol would tear that girl apart — she is tough, yet the tough ones are always the first to break.”  

Why didn’t she go away? Why did she choose to spend this night in the Palace? The First Lady of Panem had answers for neither of those questions. She had a theory on why, but she didn’t want to even think about it. 

Coriolanus was still alive, he was still breathing, being his insomniac self like always — she did not cut the rope of her children’s father’s life. No, Lucy Gray didn’t want that… Right? It was conflicting to accept, was she happy that her dear husband did not touch the poison, or not?

Her legs were frozen, Lucy Gray couldn’t move, so she continued to listen to him, with that voice stabbing her in the chest with every small note. 

“This is a usual occurrence. Do not pay attention to it, Harrington — I think it is about time to get used to the fact that no District can be trusted when the Hunger Games are so close,” she heard Coriolanus talking a bit more sternly than usual, easily recognizing one of the Capitol’s military general’s surname.

Along with a mention of that cursed thing, Lucy Gray wanted to tear her ears out, wanting to never even think about it — if it was her desire she would have long disappeared deep in the forest, never to be seen again; yet here she was, curled up in a ball near the door of her… Enemy? Love? 

Both. 

“Order a division of Peacekeepers at Ten — about 5 public whippings will easily put their fire down. …What? No, this is not a topic for the public; as far as the Capitol is concerned, the Districts are all in deep mourning, full of regret over their past actions and waiting for the next 27th Hunger Games. Everything is perfect. Got it? Then get it done.”

No “buts” or “ifs” — just “get the thing done”. Lucy Gray has long used to that tone, appropriate for a President — oh, Coriolanus always had a terrible balance, never knowing where to drop the mask… If that was a mask at all. 

While her back was hurting and the legs felt like soap, the woman felt that staying near the door for so long was worth it — there are some benefits in living right next to the ‘owner’ of Panem, who was as head over heels for Lucy Gray as she despised him. 

He did not take the poison. The Hunger Games are now so near, that the Districts are starting their usual ruckus — this year, that ‘honor’ belonged to District 10, which caused the First Lady of Panem to grab over her aching heart. They better not be so stupid like that one time — otherwise, the blood would be spilled, she knew it.

Lucy Gray was running away for way too long — now it was time to act up since Coriolanus for sure did not forget about his promise in the case of her Rainbow Kids. That man never forgets or forgives. And now, he also owns their lives too. 

They were acting out enough to deserve a punishment by the Capitol’s standards and the woman did not even want to think about what Snow would have done, should her talk with Aster about Doris reach his ears. It’s enough that she was acting out already. 

“I think we need to talk.”

Chapter Text

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With the lightbulbs barely lighting the liquor cabinets nearby, the President of Panem and the one he could consider his most trusted, or at least any friend, were silently looking at each other’s side, each having a glass in hand, yet only taking occasional sips.

Festus Creed kept his mouth shut long enough to feel the air filling with awkwardness, before finally managing to speak up — friend or no friend, he was talking to a man that owned not just the Capitol, but the whole Panem. Long days of carelessly chatting at the Academy during breaks, complaining about the projects, or sharing completely one-sided stories about girls were long over. 

“I am sorry,” he said, slightly lowering his head, as Coriolanus felt bitterness slowly fuel inside.   

“You got nothing to apologize for,” the President responded, attempting to sound reassuring, yet still emptying the glass in one go, as this action spoke louder than any words. “Moreover, please accept my condolences.” 

“Was it that hard for your idiot father to drop dead at literally any day that wasn’t so close to the Hunger Games?” Coriolanus could barely hold himself from rolling his eyes — no, he was already pretty much failing with comforting his friend, another instance of that was surely not in his plans. 

Perhaps, he was already doing Festus a favor — after all, that man had set him up greatly. Heart attack. A stupid heart attack and yet it still managed to ruin his plans. 

With the death of the current director of the Creed business, Festus, as an only heir, was expected to step in almost immediately. He could not refuse — this family and their wood were too important for the Capitol. 

Yet on the other hand, it could only mean that the irreplaceable Head Gamemaker for almost 10 years would also be forced to resign — there were no words to describe this happening other than “a catastrophe”. No one knew more or was more passionate about the designs of the Arenas or throwing of elaborate shows than Festus — previously thought of as nothing more than a typical, Capitolite nepotism hire, turned out to be the best pick any President, who even remotely cared about the Games could hope for. 

“I will be missing the office… And the planning room,” Festus chugged some drops of whiskey, all while Coriolanus’ mind had long drifted away. 

“Haven’t got time to enjoy it that much, because, you know,” President Snow could never pretend that he wished for anything else than the chair he was in right now — after all, it was a dream come true, holding an entire country in your fist. Snow lands on top, right? 

Sitting next to his friend, who he let as close as he allowed himself to, Coriolanus did feel a bitter sense of annoyance, mixed with deeply hidden loneliness — Hunger Games was the thing where it all began, from where he started his rise to power, never turning back to a lying fool he once was. 

Undeniably, it was impossible to not get attached to that particular thing, especially when it was the one relatively useful legacy his father left on the land of Panem. 

Now, the only person who could share this weird passion was getting separated from it, and Coriolanus had no idea what to feel — was he supposed to mourn? Or feel anything other than a small wave of sadness? 

He was sad. That was already enough. 

As the time slowly passed, the two friends spent it recounting some of their fondest memories — they barely scratched the surface of their Academy life; once, there was a period when nothing interested them more than either grades for Coriolanus or girls for Festus. It was a world-worthy phenomenon to see him settling down with a wife and a kid. If someone said that to Coriolanus a couple of years ago, he would have just given them a side eye, laughing over the absurdity of such claims.  

Festus was chuckling over remembering his very first year at the new job while sharing the ideas he would have loved to see for the 27th Hunger Games. At some point, a topic of mutts came up, with President Snow listening with carefulness to specifically it.

“You don’t believe in putting dog ones into this type of arena?” Festus raised his eyebrow, obviously not daring to say anything against the owner of Panem — he had also long stopped drinking, while Coriolanus poured himself another glass. 

“No. Dr Gaul would have had your head for a ruined show a long time ago,” sipping the whiskey he smiled, yet the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I think snakes can be a nice challenge for the tributes this year.”

“Snakes?” The former Gamemaker looked at his friend weirdly. “As if your mutts? They weren’t even used for the Quarter Quell, mind you.”

“That is because we had a solid plan for that one. Was a horrid experience to organize, wasn’t it?” 

Creed had gotten quieter, remembering the past and how much they both tried to turn these ones into the biggest spectacle that Panem had yet to see, yet still asked one last thing: “So, why snakes?” 

“Because I want them there,” it was a simple yet solid, dry answer, that reminded Festus yet again who exactly was next to him. 

“...Good luck finding someone else that would manage to keep up with your demands then,” the previous Gamemaker laughed, sometimes glancing at the sight of the whiskey bottle. It indeed wasn’t healthy much, but who could be so fearless as to demand the President to stop drinking entirely?

Well, it could be worth a shot. 

“I think that’s enough,” Festus slightly pushed away the bottle, on which he received a stare so cold, it could have frozen all of the blood in his body. Coriolanus did not say anything about this offensive move — after all, Creed was the closest thing to him besides his family, can’t be too wasteful of such lives. 

Yet, he still owes him — that usually competent imbecile and his dead father had currently screwed over all of his careful planning. This year’s Games will for sure somehow end up in disaster — there was not enough foundation for the Arena prepared to simply put in that chair any relatively big-sounding name that can press buttons and look nicely on camera. They had no plan. No Gamemaker. 

The control of the situation yet again was trying to slip away from him. 

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The President’s day began with checking out the potential candidates for a new Head Gamemaker — plainly, that could be considered a lost cause since the very beginning, yet Coriolanus’ patience still hasn’t ran out when again, he had to put away another empty glass, internally cursing out that the Capitol’s current generation cannot be capable to save their life. 

“Looks like some fool in the Control Center is about to get promoted,” he flinched at the very thought of this idea, yet had no other choice. 

He hated giving any important tasks to the ones that surrounded him, all to not present himself as lazy or incompetent — after all, this is what killed his predecessor, President Ravinstill, who had decided to almost gift control over Panem to Dr Gaul all because of her project’s success during the Dark Days time. 

Coriolanus had always found it so ridiculous that he even allowed that to happen — if he was ever in Ravinstill’s shoes and had someone like Dr Gaul in his administration, he would have smiled politely, thrown some medal in her face, and then sent her as far away in a lab to do her crazy experiments with bare minimum financing as humanly possible. 

Yet, swallowing down the scare he still felt for the mad woman despite her long turning into a skeleton, President Snow also felt grateful for Dr Volumnia Gaul — aside from one particular person, she was the one who had set him straight, helped to stabilize and learn how to acquire even more power for herself. 

Coriolanus did not try to disobey her careful teachings and despite that stopping him marrying Lucy Gray was not in her power, the rest of those decisions were on him. 

A pity that she died of old age. Truly, truly miserable and not at all a glorious way of leaving this Earth.   

Alongside a Gamemaker problem, Panem’s faraway places had an acting out problem. This couldn’t be called a ‘rebellion’, or even riots — every other district had a division of Peacekeepers holding them together, excluding the two who pledged their loyalty to the Capitol. And every other district was fine, except for some reason District 10, which this year had the biggest amount of public whippings. 

Looking from the outside, they were to be this year’s ‘District example’ for the whole Panem to see — lucky he doesn’t have to come up with stories for every Hunger Games, otherwise, the man’s head would have exploded a long time ago. When he added small bits to a pile of papers lying next to him on the table, the office’s door suddenly creaked, forcing Coriolanus to raise his head away from the statistics.

“...As far as I remember, I always asked you to knock,” Snow said with a bit of pressure in his dry voice, looking straight at Lucy Gray, who was now standing in the doorway, hand leaning on the wall, in a dark violet elegant dress, which his eyes were devouring with pleasure; indeed, whatever she put on herself, it suited her perfectly. 

“Then lock your door if you wouldn’t like any intruders,” she said with coldness in return, folded her hands, and a smile slowly crawled on her face, knowing what actually went down with Festus yesterday evening, as if saying: "Here are your Hunger Games, Coriolanus. Enjoy."  

The President of Panem didn't like it, but he decided to wait: after all, only two days had passed since Lucy Gray, who without a clear reason why, decided to spend the night at their house — and so far, two days were a record for her for this whole year. 

"Need to be softer. Just not to scare..." The man thought, trying not to frown after another sip of water with lemon and salt. He put the glass aside and tilted his head as if scanning his woman from head to toe; Lucy Gray was quick to mimic all of his movements. 

“Did you come here to celebrate your small victory?” 

“Of course not, Coriolanus — I won nothing, so it doesn’t call for a celebration, at least not in the way we are used to this word,” she slightly smiled, not showing signs of pleasantries in front of him. “I'm just glad that at least for one day, the luck of the universe is indeed on my side — deserve it after my hard labor, don’t you think?” She proudly raised her head, crossing her graceful hands. 

“Don't even think that I'll give up so easily. You understand me, don't you?” 

To his surprise, Lucy Gray moved away from the wall and quickly crossed his office, while her slippers made funny sounds when touched by the parquet. Coriolanus himself got up from the table and stood in front of his wife. 

If someone had entered through the door now, firstly, that moron would have been shot on the spot, and secondly, he would have taken the Snows as enemies, not as a once loving couple with a bond that no breathing creature walking on this ground could have grasped. 

"Although it is unknown what we have been all these damn 9 years..." Coriolanus gritted his teeth, looking into his wife's eyes, the color of the night sky. 

“...Have you decided to finally resume your torture of me through the Districts? And are you actually this delusional to believe that after those Games’ continuing, I will fall back into your arms?” Lucy Gray lowered her head a little. “And yes, I'm very interested in seeing how you're going to hold your favorite livestock without the chief butcher.”

Coriolanus took another step forward and mockingly kissed his wife's hand, enjoying the warmth of her palm inside. 

“Games, Games, Games. That is all you can even talk about, making me out as some sort of monster. Yet you knew who you were getting involved with. Don't pretend to be so innocent — you knew what I wanted, you knew what I was planning.” 

"Liar..." Now he was, indeed, shamelessly lying to her. 

More than a decade had passed, and Lucy Gray still hasn't forgotten his promise when he almost swore that he would cancel the Hunger Games and everything related to it. And in the end, what? ...But it was useless to tell him that. 

Coriolanus knew he had deceived her. I knew she wouldn't forgive him, but he wasn't one of those who left things halfway. 

If he threw anything in his life at all. He didn't leave her, after all.   

Although he could have.   

“Now is the time to cancel everything, you can't think of a better opportunity than this — you can just say that the respected Gamemaker left his post, closing the 'show' forever,” swallowing, Lucy Gray herself takes a step forward, remembering the night when she followed his deep-hidden whims, called him "Coryo" for the first time in the last three years and took him by the hand. Snow squeezed it in response. 

He could see that her demonstrative tenderness now is just a mask with which she hopes to appease him. Well... Some could say it had worked. 

Of course, she is a brilliant actress and this is another of thousands of reasons why he loved her. He saw through her deception, a false expression on her face depicting grieving innocence; he knew everything about her. 

"I'll find a way to deal with this year’s Games and make sure to spend time with my family. Maybe we can find the time and go on a very small vacation? All four of us, like we used to," he stroked her hand with his thumb, stopping at the copper engagement ring from time to time. 

“This time is not a round date,” Lucy Gray did not react to these words of the President of Panem, but the blood in her body began to flow through the veins more slowly, as if she was standing in forty-degree freezing weather. 

“And when was it round? She raised her head and locked her furious stare into his eyes. “Two years ago, when you and your brilliant Gamemaker decided on the Districts choosing their tributes themselves as a "twist" for the Reaping?”

Oh yes. Festus was incredibly proud of the Games that the president came up with the name 'Quarter Quell’- and indeed, he organized it brilliantly; there were no 'surprises' and at the final showdown, the most worthy won, which made Snow very happy, as he could never stand seeing some lucky loser win by chance, that happened more often than he could have imagined. 

It reminded him of his past when he was forced to bow down and crawl at everyone’s feet, all while being five times better than all of those rich brats and old politicians combined, and now, he will not allow anyone to take even a crumb from his master’s table if this person did not deserve it. 

And he truly hoped that his Lucy Gray would understand him... 

The woman felt his wrapping, firm hand on her shoulder, which reminded her of a poisonous snake, and took a step back, although his hand remained where it was. 

“I did not agree to mass executions. Remove them, I would have returned to you, but you decided like this," the woman began to hiss through gulps of pain when it was not the time of tears: this hiss sounded cold and detached as if she was passing all her words addressed to Coriolanus through a container of ice water. 

“But you accepted Mayfair's death, didn't you? And what about Billy Taupe? Sejanus?”

“Don't you even dare to compare all of this; three people, one of whom personally sent me to death over nothing while I was a child, and 192? Since that's how many innocent children died under the wing of your glorious presidency!”

To these accusations, Coriolanus could only recall one old, wise quote from a history textbook, which he read back in the Academy: 

"Kill one man and you are a murderer, kill a hundred and you are a warlord, kill a thousand and you are a king."   

Despite there being no such thing as ‘king’ for many years, with the term disappearing from use along with its carriers’ history, Coriolanus Snow still abided by it — he did not want to be an aimless killer like these savages from the Districts, he was never wasteful. 

He never killed personally, he did it only when it was necessary and all this was for the sake of a great goal. 

"And first of all, I do it for them," Lucy Gray looked into his crystal eyes and bitterly swallowed, understanding all of her 200 mistakes. 

This conversation could have taken place three, four, seven, or hell, all nine years ago. But she ran away from him and while it seemed that she was still here, it was not true: there was only her body in this Palace, while the soul was either deep underground or with her students on the stage. 

She didn't talk to him even when she could, but now nothing could be changed — Coriolanus was standing in front of her now, cold and inside, fumingly angry. Her heart twitched into a lump when she tried with all her might to keep her calm expression as if she didn't care about him. 

The worst thing that she despised herself for was that she did care. She indeed wanted to return everything to normal, or rather like it was way before the unavoidable fallout. Yet at the same time, the First Lady of Panem could not step away now – that would have meant that she gave up fighting for her people. Lucy Gray had already sacrificed both her mental state and her relationship with her husband, fracturing the bond she had with her kids, and all because of her anger at the Capitol.

Yes, she was not delusional and knew that Coriolanus could never survive in Twelve unlike her in the Capitol, yet it never meant that she accepted the rules of the game. Relaxing with each breath in the President’s arms, once a simple singer, now a caged bird, started to slowly grasp the situation.  Those Games were not organized to torment her – they were simply for the reason of unity, the fact that Coriolanus wanted to bring her closer to his politics. 

But now?    

"I finally realized what you had always wanted from me, and honestly want from me now, even if you hide it as much as you want. You deceived me once and you think I'll accept the changed rules of the game for nothing?"   

“...What are you going to do? If you don't appoint a new Gamemaker soon, there will be a scandal. You will lose either way, it is indeed that easy to cancel.” 

Snow wrapped his palm around her head and pressed it to his heart — exactly as he did every time, as soon as the crying silhouette began to break into his realm of dreams. 

“I will think of something,” he cut the conversation coldly. "But the Games will be happening, they are necessary. These are not even murders, they are just a precaution against riots — anyone who sympathizes with them in the eyes has not seen them, unlike me. I saw the animal rage with which they pounced on me then in the Arena, when I did nothing to them and I was forcibly thrown there to get Sejanus, since apparently, my life mattered less than his. Do you remember yourself ? How afraid you were while fighting for your life. Give them military weapons and they'll tear my Panem to shreds." 

Oh right. Here comes his favorite mantra about animals — so who was she then, a rabid dog? 

“Then… What about Philo?” The woman was not willing to drop the subject. “I'm sure she won't be very thrilled with this decision.” 

“Oh, I beg you, try something different next time — Philomel likes the TV! I asked her about filming on camera and being the center of attention since childhood and she never complained, remember?” 

Lucy Gray finally lowered her head in a very clear defeat. She has long understood that Coriolanus is not the person who will be changed by affection and a couple of gentle words. Even bottomless love is not enough for him: he is more likely to take all this love without a trace while climbing into the place beside the clouds. 

Coriolanus Snow was a black hole — no matter how much it sucks, it will never be enough for it. He will also never have to choose between it and the authorities: he will just take both. 

Now, thanks to her carelessness and inability to control the only thing in this scorned city that was within her reach, the kids that she swore to protect were in danger. Now, she had crossed many lines and he might as well bring a punishment for this — obviously not the Rainbow Kids themselves, since they were way too noticeable, too bright and shiny.

But who said that the ones inside the District walls were safe from his wrath? The families, the innocents. Exactly what Mayor Lipp did to the Covey, all to get back at the “brat who killed his precious daughter”. This piece of District history cannot repeat itself. 

Inhale, exhale. 

She looks at Snow again and sees everything; his deep inner pain, a light hangover that he dealt with reasonably well despite her personally knowing how much he usually drank, genuine hunger for her touch, and how his hand trembles a little as soon as he brushed through one of her curls. 

Lucy Gray didn't want to do it at all, but Coriolanus left her no other choice — it was time to turn on the same tricks she used at a young age, trying to shake out an extra coin from the visitors of the Hob. 

"Come on Lucy Gray, you can handle it. You can do it."   

“Did you want me to stay with you, despite all the horror you created? Since we signed the blood contract with our lives together, shall we follow it to the end?” She deliberately lowered her lips and made her eyes a little more rounded, which gave her a more innocent look.

Carefully, Snow studied every inch of her body, of her face and her lips, as if trying to find any smallest similarities between what he saw now and what he saw at the train station more than a decade ago, now he felt very young again, inexperienced, in love. 

Yes. Yes.  

Snow’s voice was close to breaking down, but all that came out was just a quiet nod of his head. How many years he tried to get understanding and acceptance from his Lucy Gray: he felt that he was slowly going crazy. 

His promise about these idiotic Games was necessary — Lucy Gray was necessary for him. 

Coriolanus promised to provide for her and their children, to bury his beautiful shining rainbow in gold — achieving the highest status one could imagine, Coriolanus fulfilled that promise. Now it was Lucy Gray’s turn to stick to hers. 

And no matter how many corpses collapse on the way to their castle in the air — he could even trample on them without a care in the world, as long as his family remains at the very top, and she stays next to him. 

Snow slowly took her by the chin, his eyes showing a flicker of raw, genuine emotion that could have told every page of his history book: it was immediately clear what he wanted, and Lucy Gray was happy to play for his desires. 

Their lips touch, and Coriolanus feels his always freezing hands heat up from the temperature of her body as soon as his fingers brush through the rose petals of her shoulders and neck. 

It was painful to kiss him again — her heart hurts, and the woman feels like a traitor, terrible, vile; as if she really accepts this kind of thing, and not just puts dust in his eyes. 

"Never, you hear me. I will never forgive you for these Hunger Games..."   

President Snow was known as someone not bending to anyone’s whims when aquiring his position — the groweling, desperate Coryo, who wore shirts with holes in them and surviving on watered down soups was long gone. No, he would make sure that the whole Panem would fall to his feet, only considering him as their eternal idol. 

Yet while the intimidating figure behind the shiny tribune in a blood-red suit was the symbol and owner of all citizens of the country, he himself was close to praying to one person. Holding Lucy Gray in his arms, he could not comprehend how and why he ever allowed a woman to take so much power in those sweet, sweet warm hands, yet he found ways to deal with it.  

The couple named by the piece of the coldest season loved ruining each other — their hearts and souls were mutually torn apart, all while it never stopped them from drowning in the pain and sorrow of their kisses, as blood was running down their chins. The 10th Hunger Games tied them together forever, all while the events after their failed escape from Twelve cemented it; there was no other in this world who would have understood one another as much as this couple of Panem did. 

Danger, excitement, pain, sorrow, and adrenaline — that woman was giving him all of this and even more, with him failing miserably every time at his attempt to turn her into a proper Capitolite lady, but he did not need that anymore. The way her hands moved over his face and shoulders, kissing him in all of his favorite places, it was evident that the beautiful songbird was indeed tainted by a stroke of a snake’s poison. She didn’t want to love him anymore? Well, he would make her love him back, to see him yet again as the lovestruck Capitol boy with a white rose in his hand and golden locks... For now — then she could learn on how to accept the current reality, his actual side. 

Lucy Gray was the President’s idol — she was the only ‘god’ he knew and despite never believing in gods before, he still wanted to kneel down in front of this majestic figure covered in sunflowers, kissing her feet all while returning the memories of every curve in her flawless, small body. 

He had her love. He needed her love. All while Lucy Gray could have never allowed herself to love him — she cannot love him again, he took way too much; from her and from the whole Panem. 

Yet would take more, should his love be cut off from him with no return – Lucy Gray Snow was not a bridge, she was a small white streak, that was as beautiful to look at, as fragile to any outside cut. Yet even a streak can make skin bleed should it cut deeply enough. 

Later in the evening, Coriolanus found Lucy Gray curled up in a ball, in a bed from one of the guest rooms, which had long served as her bedroom, as soon as she was inside her gilded cage. 

Snow did not leave that room for a long time, as if being afraid that as soon as he turned his head away, Lucy Gray would vanish, proving all of that was nothing but a pipe dream; gently held her hand, and she looked at him with a hollow, yet somewhat sweet twinkle of her eyes, sweeter than anything else that he saw for those 9 years. 

As Lucy Gray was trying to look more convincing, did not immediately allow him everything that she would have easily allowed ten years ago. 

But her hand still rested on his knees while she quietly hummed a sad melody under her breath: it was somewhat reminiscent of the song of a nightingale, whose heart was broken to pieces; all while Coriolanus desperately tried to glue them together, not paying attention to the terrible holes in a once perfect picture. 

“You are not going anywhere tomorrow, right?”

"Not today, nor tomorrow, nor the day after tomorrow, Coryo. I'll be here, next to you. Watch you and move your hand away from the Districts as much as I can.”   

While one may call her cruel for ‘toying’ with the emotions of a dangerous man, who held his heart out on a plate to consume in front of her, it would still be a wild assumption to make that Lucy Gray had become exactly like him — even the poison was just a method of weakening the President down. 

He is a poison. She's just a rat, who foolishly tried it and now running around the world with intoxicated fangs, biting anyone who could have tried harming her. 

Yet what happens when you kill a rat? Your food is still not safe and your pinky still can catch that bite infection — just another rat will take the previous one’s place. Coriolanus was not the biggest problem — the problem was the system as a whole, which was still supported by his cruelty and sternness, stopping at nothing to suck the Districts out of every piece of resources that they possessed; all of this was “supposed” to belong to the Capitol. 

“…No... Coryo. I'll stay here,” the woman replied softly, laying down on his knees and looking at the ceiling of a castle she would have never dreamt of living in; oh, how better it could have been if she hadn’t! 

Coriolanus held onto one of her big, wild curls, stroking every piece of hair on it, while Lucy Gray was given a soft napkin that smelled of delicate roses, and she couldn’t get her nose out of it, remembering this smell as the only thing capable of making her sleep while she counted days before her inevitable demise.  

What a clueless idiot she was. Now. She was only trying now and he knew why. What stopped her from changing those long-exhausted tactics of rage in her face a few years ago? After all it should have been common knowledge that Snow has always been more negotiating should he receive softness and loving caresses from her in return. 

And leaving the woman in a small, but still tastefully furnished room, Snow quietly closed the door when Lucy Gray nodded quietly and affirmatively, later pretending to have fallen asleep but in truth was staring blankly at the wall, feeling as if she was just given a triple dose of morphling. The First Lady was completely out of it, not understanding what exactly she just did — aw, it would be so easy to play a fool or a martyr who put herself up as a sacrificial lamb for the President. Yet where did lies stop and real feelings start? 

This is what she could never be courageous enough to answer.   

Coriolanus left his wife's room in a relaxed mood: the Hunger Games must be dealt with quickly and in such matters, even insomnia was not his friend, but on the contrary, his biggest enemy. He definitely needs to get a good night's sleep once in a lifetime — now he couldn’t lose control over his tongue in front of Lucy Gray tomorrow and then blame it all on feeling unwell. 

Locking himself in the bathroom, leaning over the sink, and coughing, the President looked at the medicine in the small cabinet with nothing but contempt. 

Sometimes he felt ashamed of taking them — a couple of those pills and obvious alarm bells that something was wrong with the body would begin going off. But now he just couldn't refuse — nothing worked, even valerian, only if he didn't pour the whole bottle into the tea. A red and white insomnia pill with powder inside unpleasantly scratches the throat, but he does not pay attention to such trifles. 

Now, he had only one thing almost completely overtaken his mind. 

"Lucy Gray can come back — at least she understood me, finally. There is a chance: we can still fix everything, as we always did," Snow considered himself a fool for really believing that she, his one of a kind love, could completely change from that day he met her near the train. 

The stupid spirit of rebellion was always in her, but everything else outweighed this tiny flaw so much that he had a deep hidden desire to simply put a blindfold over his eyes. The image of that kiss still didn't come out of his head: of course, he knew that he was missing her like a piece of air, but could not imagine just how deeply rooted those feelings were! 

Washing his face with scorchingly icy water for the last time, he looked in the mirror — the President of Panem still looked frighteningly young, although he did not ever allow the knife to touch his face in his life. Well... Except there, on the left side, where there used to be a now invisible scar almost all over the cheek, left by the nails of a raging woman nine years ago. 

His hair was somewhat messy both from the water and the uncounted amounts of time that Lucy Gray ruffled them as if they were recently married children again. Coriolanus knew it, he enjoyed it and it was the first time after their talk that he did not want to drown himself in alcohol. 

"Okay, now all of those injuries and pain are in the past. And now, she is seemingly ready to correct her little mistake. Snow lands on top."   

He could give her a chance to fix everything back and this nightmare with endless runaways will end. And in return, he would consider freeing those year’s games from the secret twist that no one, even Lucy Gray knew about — at the office, he took a stack of papers, not burning them, yet putting it at the furthest corner of his bookcase. 

Coriolanus Snow’s eyes had been ice cold for many years — the affection his wife gave him today was the first tiny step to erase the borders. He could live up to at least one silent promise that was made in that room. Of course, he was skeptical — Lucy Gray was the rainbow of destruction, the performer, and trusting her could be a mistake. 

But they both were tied together, stuck in this loop of pain and love, leaving which could amount either of them to nothing but dust. 

And in the cold bed, the President of Panem had managed to return to the land of dreams after the long, dreading days of insomnia hitting him — he had refused to believe that he failed, that Dean Highbottom was right. This medicine was worth it, he needed to take it again to heal from those issues; Lucy Gray hated his insomnia because he always worked during those hours, so that could be another way to show her that he was moving in the right direction. 

Everything will be fine.  

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Sixteen years ago

“No... No, no more.” 

“Stop, shut up. Don't blame me, Sejanus, please. It’s not my fault, you did that all to yourself...” 

For about ten minutes, slumbering Coriolanus was shaking his head, being completely out of touch with his penthouse on Corso, throwing on the bed and clumping the blanket under him, like during a fever episode. 

“I'm not to blame... I pleaded with you, I tried to save you…” 

Without opening his eyes, he began to whine for a long time, tears rolled down his face, and his legs began to twitch uncontrollably by themselves, beating the air and several times, hitting a small body sleeping next to him. 

It seemed that another kick of the former Peacekeeper and it would be enough for Lucy Gray, who really tried to be patient, to fly to the other end of the room. And she just ran out of its remains, being already tired of holding her hands to her ears, while squinting. 

"Sorry, hun."   

The young man flew up like a bullet after he felt incomprehensible tremors on his face, which the body began to perceive as blows. Hurting. 

Screaming and grabbing his head, not being able to fully leave the grasp of nightmares, Snow got up and crawled back to the pillow, pressing his whole cold body against the wall, trying to breathe. 

Drops of sweat flowed down his cheeks, while as if locked behind seven metal doors, a faint female scream was trying to reach him. 

When the scared man barely moved his lips, while coming up with three-digit numbers in his mind, trying to calm down, the voice behind became louder and louder, further calming down enough to make sense of the blur of words directed to him:

“Coryo! Coryo!” Lucy Gray yelled, still not letting go of the pillow, with which she had to "wake up" her husband a couple of times, hitting him on the head. 

Finally, she felt the switch of a nearby lamp, and with turning it on, Snow's terrified face with wide-open bright blue eyes, who began to frown from the sudden light, appeared before her in all its frightened beauty. 

She quickly threw the pillow aside and carefully hugged him, but Coriolanus, trying to regain his breath in the shortest possible time, turned away from his young wife with shame on his face. 

“Damn,” he grabbed his splitting head, trying to throw off the remnants of his sleep and suppressing more upcoming whimpers. “Lucy Gray, please forgive me... Did I wake you up again?” 

The girl shook her head, but without an answer, it was clear that it was "yes". She put her hand on his big palm, gently drawing patterns on it with her dark fingers, but the shieving man didn't even turn to her, while always being brave to face the big name politicians who were at least 10 years senior to him. 

“It’s okay, that's it, Coryo, shhh, quieter. It was just another bad nightmare, calm down… I’m here, you are safe.” 

Whispering, leaning onto his cold body, Lucy Gray pulled out a crumpled blanket from under him and covered her husband with it. The river of shame crashed into his mind when Coriolanus realized that because of him, Lucy Gray was left without a blanket and slammed himself on the forehead loudly. 

“Again... Him again. Forgive me, I beg you…” Snow hated his own body, which was completely within his control while he tried sleeping: for the same reason, he could not, despite the fact that Tigris tried to prove to him that it was not necessary, refuse a regular dose of valerian in the evenings or chamomile tea. 

But the problem is, the tea stopped working a long time ago and the medicine supply just ran out yesterday, without the extra money laying around for the Snow family to afford it — every extra coin was obliged to pay taxes at home for a month. 

Plinths be Plinths, and while they could buy his own house for him as many times as they wanted, Snow was not going to sit on their neck, so he plowed at his work like he was truly obsessed. Yet while he was successful in this on the outside, one mind could never guess what was going on inside his head. 

"Shame on me. I can't even sleep without valerian normally one unfortunate night, so as not to hear Sejanus’ plaintive bleating. May he be damned," he had already gotten out of bed, yet the songbird stopped him, quickly grabbing his hand in the air. 

“Lucy Gray, let me sleep on the couch today... I'm just getting in the way here, as always," he muttered, keeping ahold of on to his head, holding back moans of pain. 

"I'm so sick of you, Sejanus. Why didn't you just disappear? Why do you keep chasing me even when I swore to you that I was innocent? Stop blaming me for your death — you climbed into the rope one, second, fifth, tenth time!" Snow could barely restrain himself from swearing like a shoemaker, yet the discipline training in Twelve he had received as a Peacekeeper luckily did not go in vain. 

“You will not sleep in this icy, unheated room — I will not allow you to lie down all over your back or get a cold,” with some pressure in her voice, Lucy Gray continued to squeeze his hand tightly; Coryo tried to jerk for the last time, but still the nightmare did take not over his mind completely, so internally, he agreed with her. 

For some time sitting motionless on the edge of the bed, Snow didn't say anything, but Lucy Gray did not need words — she understood everything just by looking at him. 

Kneeling on the mattress, she started slowly wrapping her hot arms around his icy, shivering body from behind and lovingly put her head on his shoulder, as her skin brushed against his, trying to get rid of at least a quarter of his haunting nightmares with this warmth. 

“He was there again... Sejanus? You were mumbling his name over and over.” 

Of course, he would rat himself out in the most idiotic way possible. There was nothing to hide, and there was no point in lying — and why was he always such a babbler in his sleep?  

“He just appeared out of nowhere, not ceasing his irritating, painful howling — about how I killed him, how it was me who betrayed him…” For Snow, every such word of truth was as if he was stabbed with a knife. “But it wasn't even me who was doing the hanging, I just pressed the record button, so why am I to blame? …Right?” 

He fell silent, waiting and hoping that Lucy Gray would say that it was not his fault, that everything would be fine, but she was silent. The girl sighed. 

Sejanus Plinth — undoubtedly one of the most ridiculous and at the same time terrible tragedies of the bloodthirsty 10th Hunger Games. Died so young, died so stupidly. 

Lucy Gray could say she barely knew him, but what she saw and what she heard from Plinths were only gentle and kind words towards the dead young man, and she was the only keeper of the secret of his death. 

In actuality, she was grateful for her beloved’s honesty that fateful day, in the forest. When he, while she asked the most out of place, dangerous question, told her everything: about the jabberjay, about Sejanus, and about the fact that it was not the first time when this sweet, but naive idiot signed his death warrant. Yet still, something felt… Wrong. 

For some time she tried to calm herself down, to say the same as Coriolanus: that they are innocent, that all this is just an accident. But she could not help but admit that she still felt sorry for poor, foolish yet well-intentioned Sejanus. 

However, this train of pity has already left. Now they were here, alone, with the blood of young Plinth on their hands — she was an accomplice in a crime and willingly took on such a sin, sharing this pitch black fate with Coryo. Lucy Gray accepted it when they left Twelve. Listening to his heartbeat, which always became faster when he didn’t get an answer, the singer’s hand got into his hair and began gently going through it. 

She exhaled for the second time and a smile appeared on her previously disturbed face, while she quietly hummed a melody under her breath without words, nuzzling her warm cheek against his cold shoulder, as if it was made out of glass. Yesterday he was the one doing that for her — when she woke up screaming after seeing Coral’s trident piercing her neck, he held her in his safe arms until the first pinkish glimpses of the sunrise appeared in the clouds. 

She was a wailing mess, and no matter how much she tried acting tough after the Games, all of her subtle ‘bragging’ about being a Victor ended at first sight of the Arena and memories of rabid Jessup, who never even got a proper burial aside from what Reaper has given him.   

Snow was ashamed to accept her pity, and even more so her gentle but naive attempts to calm him down, because no fool understands: Sejanus will not leave him for a long time, not allowing even one dream of Snow to be joyful. 

Yet, while battling with his fragile mind, he was listening to Lucy Gray's tender voice and thanks to it, felt more air entering his chest with each sung note, making his stupid head not ever think about leaving the room. 

"My precious, wonderful Lucy Gray... What would I do without you?"   

He knew the answer right away: he probably drank himself to death. Or worse, turned to morphling like Highbottom, may he be damned.

Coriolanus was sure that if that had happened, the dean-torturer and Sejanus would have laughed at him from their new 'heavenly' dwelling. No, he couldn’t do it, he had to survive — otherwise, what was the point? 

“Forgive me, dear,” Snow finally found the strength to smile and in gratitude, kissed his wife on the forehead. His smile was almost hysterical when he looked at Lucy Gray through his eyes swollen with tears — Coryo took her small face with both his light palms and she returned this gesture to him. 

“Don't apologize, please.” 

“I swear I won't cry and scream anymore, I don't want you to remember me as such a pathetic moron who can’t control himself,” he said with tenderness and a crumb of shame while enjoying the warmth of her cheeks. 

Lucy Gray did not consider tears to be something unworthy or shameful: on the contrary, she liked to comfort him. This always made her feel like she was one of the few to whom his 'human' side was discovered, behind the shell of the ideal man that Coriolanus Snow had already begun to craft for himself. 

And he was crazy over her for that. 

"Oh my God, how lucky I am. How lucky that I brought you here," he was proud and admired himself for defending his right to marry for love, although still recalled on he was once summoned by the mother of his easily most despised former classmate Livia Cardew, offering his daughter as a candidate for marriage to him, and then proceeded to huff and puff like a locomotive when she, oh so great and powerful, was rejected. 

No, no money would be ever worth it going through that!   

And really, would Livia, always as cold as ice, ever comfort him in the same way, sing songs to him, generously sharing his grief with him? No. 

Certainly not — this spoiled, selfish brat could only think about herself and for sure will be rather laughing at Snow and his tears. Meanwhile, the warmth and purity of Lucy Gray's soul knew no bounds; she had enough love for everyone, but first of all, this love belonged to him, Coriolanus Snow. 

“Thank you,” he hugged her, this time smiling sincerely as her magic began working. 

“What for? We agreed that we would protect each other's dreams, remember?” Lucy Gray slightly grinned on his shoulder. “We promised each other, so here I am — also didn’t you help me yesterday? The… The Arena dream.” 

“Well, at least you're not as noisy as me,” Coriolanus said through a tiny smile, admitting that Lucy Gray was right. The man loved to feel like someone who was sharpened to be her protector, loved when he was needed and trusted. 

He remembered how he calmed her down in the same way — this was the sign of their special connection, their sincere unity. 

Then suddenly, such a gentle moment of the couple was interrupted, when the door of their bedroom opened and the head of Tigris appeared from there, holding a lamp in her stretched out hand. 

“Oh my! Are you both alright? I heard screams — I swear, you two can wake up the dead by how loud you are sometimes… Oh, poor Grandm’am.”

Coriolanus let his wife go, pursing his lips from having his privacy violated so horrifically and during such a tense fraction of their life. 

“I… Come on, Tigris, how many times have I told you to knock?! What if we were…” Snow was stopped in the middle of his annoyed tirade by Lucy Gray, who put her hand on his shoulder, causing him to breathe out. His cousin just chuckled, looking around the young couple and coming closer to them.

“What, nightmares again? That stupid Arena, I am so sorry…” 

The man nodded — he is unlikely to be able to go to bed again now, and even if so, he will not avoid a new meeting with the ubiquitous Plinth. 

"I don't want to. Leave me alone, moron," he cursed to himself, tightly squeezing Lucy Gray's palm. Tigris was touched by this scene; next to this beautiful and open-hearted singer who had life pouring out of every single part of her body, he seemed to bloom again, with happiness finally visiting his face after so many years spent close to misery. 

The young, slender woman in funny warm pajamas which made her figure square, picked up a folded shirt from the chair with a laugh and threw it in her cousin's face. Both Snows smiled slightly and Lucy Gray once again noticed how similar they were. 

“Get dressed, you two, I'll make you some tea,” Tigris offered Lucy Gray a hand, and the smile of both became wider; from the very first meeting, the girls liked each other, to the great happiness of young Snow and to his grandmother’s dissatisfaction.

Two girls almost pulled Coryo out of bed and quietly laughed at their own reaction to nightmares, while he, having finally recovered and returned to his usual mood, carefully took the blanket and covered Lucy Gray's shoulders with it, kissing his love on the cheek. 

All three clasped each other's hands and headed for the cold kitchen, through the same cold corridor; Lucy Gray and Coriolanus looked at each other, as if merging into one whole, while they had a whole secret room with skeletons inside. 

Tigris, walking next to them was laughing at her cousin and whispering stories that he always got frightened by bad dreams, even since childhood, and had to sit with him at night, to his giant dismay, was in happy ignorance of the true cause of Coryo's restless sleep. 

Sejanus, his personal curse, was a mystery intended for Lucy Gray alone. When Snow honestly admitted it, she, under his eye, personally pierced her finger and signed on the parchment of Plinth’s death with her own blood, with her signature proudly being next to his. 

It was their fate and they had long accepted it together.

Chapter Text

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Thirteen years ago

Dear Lucy Gray!

We successfully received the help kit, for which I fully thank you — the train guys actually tried to take it from us, but we fought off all of them! 

The sun hasn’t been generous with us, so Maude Ivory is now running around, being happy we at least got something to eat. Also, hope the Capitol hasn’t squeezed you dry; can’t wait to finally see you and hear your guitar again — the kids missed it like crazy and I think we all can manage to pour the fun back into you.

I don’t know how you finish the letters in the Capitol, so I leave you a leaf from District 12 in the convert instead. 

Tam Amber

***

To my sister.

Your photo with your little girl is now hanging in our house, along with all of the others — my congratulations to you, honey, she is so adorable. 

Clerk Carmine and Maude Ivory were trying the whole afternoon to learn how to pronounce her name though — does the Capitol have a tradition in naming, or was that the idea of your chosen person? Well, we must train harder — can’t embarrass ourselves in front of your tiny princess.

Speaking of which — write to me as soon as possible, how are you doing? How is Coriolanus, how's my little, already so grown-up nephew? You shouldn't miss a thing, since the guys with metal sticks and helmets have been hard on letters coming from anywhere but District 12; new orders of the mayor, that became a huge pain in the ass for everyone — I swear, he has truly gone mental after Mayfair's body was put to sleep in a soil bed. And then he became even madder when it got through his thick skull that no one on Twelve mourned or even missed her.

The festivals are also cut now, but we are still going strong — even threw a performance near our favorite lake last Wednesday; half of Twelve was dancing with the fireflies, and the others were busy being held in and questioned by our least fav people. But even with this ray of sunshine, each day it becomes more and more like a big, dusty cage — no one likes it here, Lucy Gray, but we can't do a damn thing about this. I'm so, so glad you got out before things turned south, my dear.  

That doesn't mean I don't miss you — each and every day I dream of us hugging, like that time when we were kids. I know Tam Amber probably wrote you something short, so I am here, talking for all of us.

Sending you a basket of freshly poured flowers, full of kisses. 

Barb Azure Baird

***

To the apple of my eye.

Sending my condolences about the festivals — hope that this sick regime will be gone when Lipp's finally overthrown from his rotten throne. I miss you all terribly and sometimes, even my family can't replace the feeling in my heart that awakes each time I think about our songs together.

Life in the Capitol is still a mess — Coryo's been running around like a crazy person, all to earn some money for us all; at least we had some proper heating installed and everyone finally stopped complaining about the cold at nights. I also got lucky two times that the kids didn't take after me; calm as angels, even little Philo. I start to get used to the big city, although if it wasn't for Coryo or Tigris around, I would never survive with those snobs surrounding me — we have a scheduled event to attend in two days and I dread the very thought of it; for sure, I will be asked to sing by some posh-rich guys, having to throw them a worthy show. At least this is where I am a professional, right? 

Next time, leave me a note on how everyone has been doing, and please not just bad news! Are you and Sable still going strong? I really can't wait to meet her and yes, tell her she is welcome to tag along with all of you to the city. Is Tam Amber still writing his poetry? You hit the bullseye when you said that he can't write long letters to save his life and is more shy talking about himself, so I'm waiting for some updates.

I advise you to be patient — soon, we will finally reunite and walk on the path of flowers, singing our usual folk songs; Pluribus Bell, a guy who lent me a guitar for my spectacular performance in the Hunger Games said he wouldn’t mind a musician or two working alongside him keeping the club alive. I swear, you will fall in love with my two little potatoes; they are the cutest kids I ever saw in my life and NO, I am not just saying this as a mother! 

Coryo told me he has been arranging stuff for arrival to be more smooth, so we haven't forgotten about our plans. Love you and give twice as many hugs to Maude Ivory — half from you and half from me, every day!

Wish I could wrap my letter in a tune,

Lucy Gray   Baird   Snow

***

“So, is this enough?” Tigris, who just finished setting the decor up, carefully climbed down the ladder, looking at her sister-in-law, who settled on the fairly recently bought couch, with her two kids in tow. 

Lucy Gray looked tired, but even under her big eyebags and messy hair, she kept up her uplifting attitude better than anyone Tigris ever knew her entire life. Her nephew kept baby Philomel in his arms, which was an adorable sight to witness — Aster might've looked at how his mother was lulling the baby, so he decided to repeat that, rocking her back and forth, of course being strictly supervised by his mother.

"You shouldn't have, Tigris, really," Lucy Gray fixed her curly ponytail and folded her hands together. She tried getting up, but the tiredness got in her and it showed, so she quickly fell back onto the couch, with Philomel stretching her arms towards her.

“Oh, come on sweetheart. It’s my only niece’s first birthday, that’s the least I can do.”

Smiling with a face that could have set the sun on fire, Lucy Gray, albeit with some heavy pushback from her little boy, picked her daughter up, while Aster clasped his hand over her leg, pulling his sister back with all his toddler might, with little Philomel crying from laughter. 

“Ma! My baby!” He whined, bringing laughter out of two women.

"Nu-uh honey, my turn," stroking her cute, creamy cheek, Lucy Gray kissed her little gem and correctly rocked her, not wanting to burden anyone from her family even further.

It was true that Tigris took a day off, all to be present during the first birthday of the Snow's little princess — she could swear she rarely saw Coryo as happy as on the day when he got what he wanted; a child with crystal blue eyes just like his own and if genetics didn't lie, Philomel was promised to have the signature Snow family blond hair color.

Today, because he couldn’t take any days off from his very demanding government job, since having to help “Dr Ghoul”, as Lucy Gray liked to call that monster of a woman, he was on communication his entire breaks, constantly huffing and puffing when having to return to his duties.

“Men are such men,” Tigris and Lucy Gray were laughing the entire time about this. Their hands were also full for this day, but the woman who used to feel melancholic about the daily routine she called life, found herself to be weirdly uplifted by the presence of this singing ray of sunshine.

Seeing Lucy Gray like this, with kids in tow and a big smile on her face regardless of how tired she was, felt foreign to Tigris — it was like looking at a child with even smaller children, since never in her mind could she register this barely 20 years old, fragile girl as a mother, but it seemed like Lucy Gray got used to this fairly quickly. 

She never expected to develop such affection for her sudden sister-in-law, with whom Coriolanus randomly showed up at the already bought over Snow penthouse — Grandm'am, may she rest in peace, had raised a stink over this and didn't let the issue and disappointment go, up until her deathbed. Meanwhile, Tigris was more than welcoming to her, as she always had a secret desire for a little sister, and Lucy Gray perfectly filled this void for her.

“You know, you remind me of my cousin,” Tigris could remember Lucy Gray saying this like two times a week while in her last month of pregnancy; when Coryo was not around and baby Philomel wanted out already, she was all over the new mother with her constant help. “Barb Azure is the oldest one of us Covey, remember I told you about her? She practically raised me and is one of the sweetest people I ever met — when she’ll be here, I swear you will like her as much.” 

Definitely, Tigris was sure of it — Lucy Gray was talking about the Covey almost daily, reading the letters over and over, and never managing to tell enough. A big surprise for Coriolanus' cousin was that the Covey was not just a "group of nomads from Twelve" — as her enthusiastic sister-in-law said, there used to be over 50 of them, traveling all around Panem as a huge commune.

Lucy Gray claimed there was a whole culture, that the Peacekeepers and President Ravinstill's orders had "wiped out" from existence, leaving only a couple of young kids remaining and throwing them in District 12.

“But as we like to say, one remaining green sprout can still be turned into a beautiful tree!”

Tigris looked over her sister-in-law’s dress she decided to wear for today — and really, her words were showing their fruits. The dress was orange mixed with bits of light brown color, and also covered in all sorts of flower patterns and having a handmade wreath on her head, which was a usual clothing for a Covey to have, but in the Capitol would have been perceived as “freakish”. 

She then moved her eyes to Aster and Philomel, who were also dressed in a similar fashion — the boy with a white shirt with a couple of light blue stitches and Philo had a dress that was hand-sewn by Tigris herself, as it used to be just a simple piece that she ‘borrowed’ from her job.

The children were acting as if a fun bee stung both of them; Aster, taking his sister’s baby hands in his own, attempted to teach her how to play pat-a-cake together. 

"Naw Philo, like dis," he took her hand again, but Philo was only chuckling like a baby she was, without understanding that her brother wanted to play by rules, sometimes clapping, but mostly brushing her pinkish nose against his. Another game was for the toddler to tap onto every single freckle that the boy had, with Lucy Gray chuckling back, all while watching for the children to not hurt each other — all of her initial worries for Aster's potential unacceptance of his younger sister had long vanished, as soon as the child could meet her.

She still could not believe her body had managed to sustain what she went through — almost a year and Lucy Gray had barely gotten used to the fact that now instead of one child, she had to take care of two. Although one should ask, it was Aster who was doing most of the caring job for his family, since he absolutely refused to ever let go of his sister from the first day they brought the child home. Lucy Gray allowed the kids to lean on her, at the very same time holding onto the letters from the Covey that had managed to reach her newest Capitol address.

“So few. There are not enough of you in my life,” she thought, never actually being able to let go of them — when escaping to what she thought was her only chance of survival, Lucy Gray never even said a proper goodbye to her family, and now she had to deal with the consequences of being separated. 

Today was her daughter's first birthday and not only was her husband running late, but she was going to celebrate yet another milestone in her life without the people who kept her alive for so, so long and who she loved so dearly. I wonder, how tall Maude Ivory is right now? Lucy Gray let thoughts like this stay in her mind as much as she wanted, and only the innocent warmth of her children or protective hugs from Coriolanus had ever managed to distract her from it. 

“I– Oh… Lucy Gray, look,” Tigris pointed at the window, where the clouds could be seen the best, thanks to the penthouse brushing over the sky. “I don’t like the rain building up here — one hour and we’ll all be breathing the wet air.”

“Looks like August decided to rain on our little parade," Lucy Gray chuckled, brushing through Philo's small string of hair that already started to grow out, promising to be fully bronde, with no mixing. Exactly like Coriolanus would have wanted — that was the woman's biggest gift to her Capitol Boy with the rose. "Tell Coryo to get a cab!" The girl somewhat raised her voice, clearly remembering the last time the stubborn Snow got stuck and arrived home with water dripping down every inch of his shivering, cold body.

“You are giving my cousin way too much credit,” Tigris picked up Aster to give the young mother a break, yet his small, soft hands immediately started reaching back to Philomel. “No way would he ever spare money on that.”

“Miser,” Lucy Gray rolled her eyes, yet a smile over thinking about her man still won over her attitude — they were indeed similar, almost never spending money on each other and saving every bit for their children. 

All for them to have a proper childhood, which they both lacked. 

The young girl, still with her head in the clouds and dreams about her Covey coming to the Capitol, sat both Philo and Aster on her knees, despite the unbearable pain that followed soon after that — she did not have a gift for her daughter, so she had to give her something that could have filled her heart with warmth.  

Deep in the meadow, under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head and close your sleepy eyes

And when they open, the sun will rise.

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm 

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true 

Here is the place where I love you.

Tigris felt her heart being at ease with her sister-in-law's first sung note and it looked like it had worked on the kids too — they became quiet as mice, softly leaning over their mother's small body, while she kept her head up.

“And where do you even find the energy?” Tigris looked at her, receiving a soft laugh in return. 

“Oh honey, that little gift doesn’t come naturally,” she murmured, her eyes twinkling. “Years and years of practice.”

“What lucky star ever crossed your path so you found such a woman, Coryo?” His cousin returned to the decorations, finishing it way faster with Lucy Gray’s cheering up and songs coloring the background. 

Later, Coriolanus made his presence known with a loud trumpling of his feet, while the warm-cold August rain behind the window was already hitting against the glass. Aster and Philomel were stuck on the windowsill, with the little girl seemingly liking everything nature could have ever offered her.

“What did I tell you?! I said to call a cab!” As Tigris ranted, Lucy Gray was wiping her husband’s messy, wet hair with the softest towel their household had, quickly taking from his hands what he was hiding under his coat. 

“Is it at least partly alive?”

"Oh Coryo, there was no need… But yeah, consider yourself lucky — it's almost fully dry," Lucy Gray gave Snow a satisfied grin, rewarding him with a warm kiss on the shoulder. "How much do I have to tell you to preserve yourself? That coat isn't infinite, you know?"

“Anything to make Philo happy,” he retorted back, which earned him another, even sweeter than the previous one. 

Taking that coat off to dry and keeping a small letter away from Tigris' reach based on "this one is mine", he went straight to his children, almost throwing Philo up in the air, yet keeping her safe in his protective hands — he lulled the child, almost melting at the sight of the blue eyes resembling his almost entirely.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered, then turned his attention to his children’s clothes. “What are they wearing?” 

“Thought it could be a nice callback to, well… To the ones who are not here and can’t share this moment of bliss with us,” said Lucy Gray, picking up Aster from the couch and kissing the top of his head. 

Coriolanus quickly retorted back — despite this obvious parading of the Covey culture, he felt cornered, as if had no right to refuse this small honor, and either way, his daughter wouldn't remember her first birthday that well.

Tigris and Lucy Gray brought out the prepared meals, while Philo already managed to get her little hands into the beautifully decorated, store-bought cake — the very same gift the man of the family was preserving from the rain.

With Coriolanus near and the Plinths arriving soon enough, loaded with food and warmth to wish their granddaughter a happy birthday, Lucy Gray felt more at ease — she was practically beaming, clearing her throat and singing, energy bursting out of every inch of her body and filling the room with a feastful mood. Strabo remarked on “the boy” settling up nicely as Marcia Plinth couldn’t stop nuzzling Aster, as if she was yet again relieving her youthful days with her baby, Sejanus. 

What was left for Coriolanus was to smile, keeping Philo close to his beating heart as she tried her best to blow out the candle — the family was together and he did not need to care about the letter, that was sinisterly resting in a faraway corner, laying on a living room's recently cleaned table. He will worry about it tomorrow. 

And tomorrow, everything broke down. Lucy Gray fell on her knees and cried out rivers of bitter tears, Coriolanus could never know that people could cry so much, wallowing in pain and loss.

“You are joking. Why? Who could have done it?! That wasn’t happening…” His girl kept and kept sobbing and he cradled her in his arms, keeping his mouth shut — after all, it was not his right. 

FOUR DISTRICT 12 CITIZENS EXECUTED THIS MORNING

This is what the official report said — no details on who they were were spared, only their names and that cursed stamp of the District 12 mayor, and a date of about 5 days ago, with the news reaching the Capitol way too late. Mayor Lipp could not reach Lucy Gray, who he still blamed for the murder of his beloved daughter, so he took away what she valued the most — her Covey, her family, killing the remains of an entire culture out of simple scorn.

All remains of the sweetness of yesterday's uniting family moment have vanished — that day, part of Lucy Gray has died with that cold, disgusting letter, never acknowledging the horrid, shrieking pain it caused with only 7 words. Coriolanus knew, he felt that the execution was rigged — just like his Lucy Gray’s Reaping, that small, disgusting man could not stop being led by his rotten daughter’s hand even after her death, feeling as if he was the owner of District 12, who could do whatever he wanted with human lives. 

As Lucy Gray sank into the couch where she had to be put since she couldn't walk on her own and tears streaming down her face, Coriolanus blankly stared at the piece of paper he was clutching in his hand, feeling powerless to ever help his wife regain her lucidity back — for a moment it was dangerous, with the lovely girl being on the brink of insanity, yet mind did no break entirely. She was left sobbing and Tigris, who bravely took over the caring of the children, sat beside her beloved sister-in-law and stroked her shoulder, giving Coriolanus occasional pitiful looks.

"She… Lucy Gray told me so much about them…" She tried to catch her breath while containing the children, who were still reaching for their crying mother, unable to do anything for her good. "The Covey didn't do anything, right?"

“...No,” was the only answer Coriolanus Snow could mumble, feeling the anger slowly but steadily bubbling inside, overtaking his mind and body, as his brain tried its best to get rid of any thoughts that he could be connected to the fate of the Covey. 

As he left for the University, Coriolanus tore the letter to the smallest of shreds, violently feeling the paper cutting the air, while he couldn't control even the bits of his ragged breathing. He walked over the remains of the 'notice', trumping it as hard as he could, while the images of the heartbroken, nearly mad Lucy Gray flashed in his head — last time he was worrying about her well-being so much that he forgot how to breathe was obviously at the hospital, the day his wife had blessed him with another child.

Her already weak body got so strained that it was just a question of time when she would have fallen into a deep state of a birth fever — reminding him so much of his mother in her last hours, Coriolanus begged and pleaded with the hospital staff to save his Lucy Gray. And it did not matter that the Capitol doctors didn’t want to help a District cur, the girl did not care — after many inner fights, she crawled out of that as well. 

She survived the Games, survived the deathly fever, which almost took her away from him… Yet just how much did the pain of a broken heart destroyed his girl? 

On this, Coriolanus had no answer. He was afraid of getting one — all those months of trying to get her to settle, to embrace the Capitol life, embrace him, all of it went down the drain with a single scotched letter, many burn whoever decided to taint his daughter’s birthday’s memory by sending it to this specific day. The man looked out at the Corso, breathing in the air that still had the traces of yesterday’s rain in it — the breathing became faster, but Snow indeed wanted to keep his cool. 

Keep calm, keep calm. Calm down—

He was not controlling his body when his fist slammed into the stone wall of his apartment building. Then again. And again. 

Coriolanus hit the wall so roughly as if he was taking revenge on both Dean Highbottom and Mayor Lipp combined, only stopping when he saw what bloodied mess his hand had turned into — obviously, he freaked out, seeing the blood run down to his sleeve, while the pain started clouding his mind, leaving in the man's head nothing but a desire for revenge. 

Covey belonged to Lucy Gray, and she belonged to him — no one was touching anything of Snow’s and expected to get away with it, especially be it some pathetic little man, who had graves crying over his soul. 

That day, Coriolanus skipped the first 3 lectures — he went to a different place, opposite from the University. And then, he didn't realize how, but 2 hours later, he had found himself in the laboratory, sipping tea and eating crackers in front of Dr Gaul.

“...So, all of that is only because of a couple of District dirts?” She nodded on his bloodied fist, which Coriolanus himself did a piss poor job ‘repairing’, hence his long-time mentor had to step in again. “Do not even waste a finger on them, got it?” 

“It is not just some District dirts… They are…” Coriolanus wanted to speak in Covey's defense, yet he only found his words being stuck in his throat. Being fully direct, he did not share the same love and sentiment for this little group or understand any obsession with the lost "culture" that Lucy Gray loved to shove down their throats — yet they were kind to him during his time as the Peacekeeper, tried to make him one of them, part of the family when they realized just how much he meant for Lucy Gray… Wasn’t it enough to feel sad over their unfortunate and unfair end? 

He felt conflicted and the conflict had mixed with guilt — "Later”, “I will arrange everything tomorrow, just be patient…”. It was impossible to bring a whole horde of Covey into the Capitol when he was barely forgiven for Lucy Gray, yet he still wanted her to believe in blessings — those blessings turned on them both in District 12, leaving him with nothing but a burning hatred for that wretched, ugly place. Coriolanus covered his shaking hand, relaxing and keeping a grip on himself, when he knew who was sitting in front of him, sometimes talking like they were some sort of longtime friends.

Dr Gaul stared into his soul, with a clear goal to make him uncomfortable, like she always did — yet this time, Coriolanus sustained her sinister sight and an unsetting smile that slowly appeared with every second of his silence.

“Again, Mr Snow — why did you come here? To get a green light for your little revenge over your savage songbird’s feelings?”

It was the first time Coriolanus felt a smile softly and coldly kissing his face in this entire day. Allowing — no one will be allowing him anything, not now when he was this close to success. 

"Why should I need a green light? As I can recall, you did not need authorization to get rid of a couple hundred District trash — what it is for a single one?"

His older mentor and inspiring figure stared at him blankly for a moment — the mad dog was beginning to chew on the leash. She understood everything, seeing the traces of tears in his eyes; that was a husband, feeling the pain of his wife first-hand, and wanting to take at least a tiny bit of revenge for her.

Yet while the entire world could have seen only that, Volumnia Gaul, knowing her protégé better than even his own family, saw something different mixing in the sorrow — bloodlust, a frantic search for a reason to kill one more District scum.

"The papers," she ordered with a blank voice and Coriolanus obliged, putting the tea away — indeed, it was a small check for an order on the black market. Illegal executions, the dirty blood — in the Capitol, there were a lot of desperate Peacekeepers waiting to take orders from the elite or even the officers to get rid of District pests, the people who were on the way to their lives. They were the ones arranging the accidents of the non-complying ones after all. 

Coriolanus stared at her blankly, holding his breath — indeed the safe cushion of Plinth money had gotten into his head, making him feel at least a quarter as powerful as his father — lucky for him, Dr Gaul did not look much displeased over his little show of independence, she looked more annoyed that he seemingly did that for someone, not for himself.

“I suppose I have a call to make for the President in a couple of days — to appoint a new mayor for Twelve,” the woman gave him a last stare of silence, asking "Are you sure?" and receiving a similar answer, burned the piece of paper with a nearby aroma candle, that she set up for unknown reason, and with that, burning his ever involvement with Mayor Lipp’s death.

“Next time, choose someone more obedient,” Coriolanus suggested, pouring both him and Gaul fresh cups of tea. “Apparently, this one was mistaken, thinking that his position was not a blessing from the Capitol, and it gave him an ultimate right to tamper with lives.”

“Rigged a Reaping, you said?”

“Exactly,” Snow lowered his head, gulping down some sort of gratitude towards the wretched man, because it was only thanks to him that he had the chance to meet his Lucy Gray — who knows where she would have ended up without the Games? Without him? “Mayors also need to be controlled — reminding that the pyramid does not stop on them at the very top. Lipp decided to put his selfish desires and pointless revenge for his useless daughter over his service to the Capitol and decided to play The High Power. I think he had it coming for terribly long.”

Now, Lucy Gray had no family — nowhere to get away from the Capitol and run away to the Districts. Her and Coriolanus had only each other — what was that if not a dark irony for a fresh start?

Dr Gaul smiled. He smiled back at her.  

˚｡⋆❅⋆｡˚

“Made up.”

“We decided to work on our differences.”

“I think we were confused long enough.”

This was apparently all that Aster deserved as an explanation for a scene when one faithful day, he walked to his parents in the kitchen — sitting at the same table. Near each other. Smiling. Eating pancakes and inviting him to join.

“What the fuck,” he initially thought, thinking that his eyes were playing a deeply cruel and unsetting prank on him, and the boy, forgetting where he was standing now, even slapped himself in the face, yet the idyllic picture did not vanish, to his deep disdain.

Of course, he apologized. Of course, he lied and said he was not feeling well, on which received a comment from his mother over studying too much — oh, and that’s she hadn't seen his blue tongue from the Demitol. And yes, he will be bringing this secret to his goddamn grave — Aster Snow took a breather, still not fully grasping that what he was seeing was real. 

His mother. Home.

His father. Without a bottle in hand. 

Together, like nothing has happened.

…Wasn’t he supposed to be happy for them?

Looking at his parents again, Aster peeked into their eyes, all in hopes of finding faces of porcelain dolls or at least looking through Lucy Gray's smile — she still looked a bit distant, albeit the were no signs of scorn on her face, which was always present whenever she had to set foot in this manor of snakes.

His father also looked more relaxed than usual, with his hands shaking only a bit — what felt concerning, was that Coriolanus spoke to him almost normally, without tiredness and stress in his voice, on which the heir only wanted to slam his face against the table.

Lucky that day, Philo was quick enough and she almost childishly squealed from excitement over seeing her family together at the dining table and not arguing or issuing the glaring wars on one another. She took the spot next to her brother and unlike him easily ate up all of the cut and dry explanations that he was also fed.

No way. It was not true, it wasn't possible. If all of this had been real, he and Philo would have gotten an apology…

Yet nothing came out of it. The Snow family's life continued to breeze through as if all those 9 years of hell and tears were nothing but a small piece of sand that got into the eye and was long ago forgotten — he also hated that.

“Cheer up, Aster!” Philomel was shamelessly smiling, holding his hand in hers, when the ‘week test’ that Aster had set up for his parents, expecting them to argue in no more than 3 days had expired without any breakdowns.

“I am not accepting that. That’s bullshit, Philo,” he spat out. 

“Hey. Language,” the girl jokingly tapped on his shoulder, still having a paper-plastered smile on her face that so resembled their father’s, in combination with his dead, bright blue eyes. “I can talk with papa and ask him about that, but don’t expect to get any answers. He’s secretive, you know?” 

Secretive in stuff like our own family life? 

Aster knew he had no right to be angry — a weird family situation and both parents with them was still miles better than having one parent… No, two parents missing most of their life — with his mother gone through many days without much of a call and their father being too busy with running the country to pay them undivided attention, both kids understood their positions perfectly.

Yet, the young boy had just gotten used to it. He was only 15 years old, he had gotten used to not having his mother around, to see her only in the endless portraits and pictures the Snow family’s home had on its walls. It wasn't the best outcome or what he could have hoped for as a part of his teenage years, but he had Philo. He was fine, he tried managing those moments as best as life could have ever allowed him. 

Why was it necessary to ruin it like that? 

Cruel, very cruel. 

Sitting on the carpet and leaving on the bed, Aster reached for his pocket, where the cure was, only to feel Philo slapping this idea away, along with his hand. 

"No need for that," she pleaded with him — obviously, his innocent sister wouldn't have wanted another addict in her family, yet it was too late to change anything. The girl breathed in, fixing her messy hair and pulling on the cleanness of her beige dress, leaning against Aster's body both out of uncertainty and for those bits of comfort his almost frozen heart could spare for her.

Almost every day of their childhood was spent like that — curling against each other, feeling as if they needed nobody while they were together, and trying not to think about what was happening behind the doors of their bedroom when the both fearful and individuating figure of Lucy Gray Snow had graced the presence of the Palace. It was a roulette without a safe option, a gamble with no win — their family was supposed to be perfect, yet it had long fallen apart.

Their father was attempting to revive a corpse, and was Aster the only one not accepting that insane idea?

Looking at his sister’s fresh, sparking face and a genuine smile she gave each time she saw her mother and father next to each other; talking, seemingly falling in love all over again, it surely looked like it. He was yet again the black sheep, the one holding everyone back — the very same role that Aster was supposed to have in this family because of his clear resemblance to his 'District' mother, yet what he had rejected since the earliest of age.

He was both blessed and cursed with a family that wanted to stay together, unlike the other elite families of the Capitol, the same ones who simply existed in the suffocating walls of their mansions, never interacting, with the lucky days being the ones when they could exchange a couple of familiar glances — the children of those families had everything and had nothing expected from them, yet never saw an ounce of love from their parents.

The Snow family was not like that — Aster had grown up as the future President of Panem, studying relentlessly and keeping up with his parents’ and Capitol’s desires, wanting him to open up all of his potential. There was love in this household as well, yet the heir failed to see what type of love that was.

He felt brave enough to ask his father on this, when they were sitting down together in the Presidental Cabinet and Coriolanus sat him down in his chair, teaching him the microcontrol of the District lands, not before Aster practiced some of the President's former speeches on parades that he made. In this atmosphere of studying, listening, and responsibility, the boy asked:

“Do you think we can fix that, dad?” 

The President kept his silence for long enough, before putting his heavy hand over Aster’s shoulder — he was attempting to smile, yet those attempts fell flat, and his son also did not need that. After all, what this life has done to ensure that the snow melts? He was long used to it and Coriolanus has read that on his face.

“We are a family, son,” he said with his voice sinking in the void. "I refuse to rob you and Philo of what me and your mother were robbed of since childhood — you deserve the very best."

"So is that really about us? Or about your marriage as well?" Aster swallowed this upcoming wave of frustration and emotional words forming inside his throat, barely managing to catch his tongue before it could spat out something that could have broken the fragile string of trust President Snow had for his only heir. Instead, he blankly stared at the wall, seeing nothing but the hopeful, innocent face of his beloved sister in front.

"Me and your mother… I can say we are a rare pair of rose buds on a daisy field," Coriolanus continued, seemingly catching up on his son's thought process. "You can say it is almost impossible to find such genuine love in the Capitol — it is too risky for all of us to ever let each other go," he finished, as Aster tried extremely hard to not roll his eyes on this nonsense.

“Oh definitely, love of the ages,” he thought, recalling every moment of coldness, every shattered plate and every raised note this palace’s walls had hidden from the whole Panem.

"…Congratulations then, I… I’m happy we managed to put that difficulty behind us.”

"Me too, child," his father looked a bit paler than usual, yet nothing else from his posture to his eyes ever indicated that he had touched a bottle — and indeed, he hadn't as soon as his mother made her lasting presence to the household known. Maybe the Hunger Games disaster was slowly squeezing him dry? "I hope the next approaching family meeting will be much better than the previous one."

Aster looked at him — for a moment, the mask of the cold, cruel President Snow had fallen off. He saw a young boy, a lovestruck teenager, who had most of his family either dying or abandoning him entirely — this version of a family was his repair, his last hope to ever live a fulfilling, fruitful life.

They cannot disappoint him.  

Coriolanus stared at the window, finally breathing out before a meeting that would probably eat away the rest of his day, which he could have dedicated to his family. Lucy Gray was sitting on the couch across his table, carefully plucking the strings of her gorgeous guitar — occasionally, she wrote something inside her notebook, humming a melody under her breath.

All of that was supposed to be horribly distracting for the President of Panem, yet that was one of the few days that he did not feel like he was burning to ash, listening into every note her angelic voice was musing, giving him occasional, reassuring smiles.

"Didn't know you are still writing your songs like that," Coriolanus remarked, remembering the moment of their reunion like it happened yesterday — the meadow, the hug, the kisses, and the trust that was always there with her.

“The time might fly, yet the tricks stay the same,” the First Lady chuckled, getting up from the couch to make a quick, joking bow. “Would you like to listen?” And receiving an approving nod, her fingers started carefully caressing the strings, barely touching the tips of some and almost kissing the other ones — the melody was lovely, yet Coriolanus easily noticed that it was also melancholic as if calling for the hearts of the long dead, reaching to even the ones who could not open up in the listening of music.

He felt intense with chills running down his spine, devouring every sound the guitar made — Lucy Gray did not sing the words out loud, yet her face spoke way better than any possible words she could muster. It was one of the melodies that when reaching the listeners, was supposed to grasp them fully, tearing them apart with every tune — this is where the songbird, a once offensive nickname by the Capitol and now a President's beloved was turning into a mythical phoenix, like one just had once drew on the walls of the Snow family home.

"A new one?" The President finally allowed himself a question when the guitar quit down and his wife put it away, almost cradling the instrument in her hands like it was a child. She didn’t smile, still holding some distance away, yet could not leave the person who got used to the immediate execution of his orders without an answer.

"Exactly," she said, nodding at the notebook, and the corners of her mouth curled into something resembling a sneaky smile. "A surprise for an event — supposed to be completed just in time for it."

Oh, how badly did Coriolanus despised her surprises. Usually, what she called a surprise has never ended well for him or their family, mostly boiling down to her vanishing from their lives for more than a week.

“Is it for the next one?” He impatiently asked, because the president had no idea what was even hiding in those pretty notes and behind the curtain of a sad melody — maybe she wanted to humiliate the Capitol even further?

“No, no. I must return my trust in Lucy Gray, otherwise all that we were doing would be doomed to fail. Even Aster doesn’t believe us and this is not the time when we can crawl out of this pit with one convincing performance,” Coriolanus stopped a dive inside the uncontrollable ocean of his thoughts, not showing even a tick of nervousness on his calm static face, one similar to a doll.

“Of course not. This one will be for something much grander, for the main event of the season — do you think your perfect, flawless program can fit in a 3-minute song for the opening?”

The woman still spoke with a heavy layer of sarcasm, seasoned with crumbs of bitterness — it was as if she was only happy in the Capitol walls when having her guitar near and this is what President Snow had never wished to take away from her.

He lowered his head, immediately realizing her strange wish — Lucy Gray wanted her song to open the 27th Hunger Games.

“If that is the testing melody, I loved what I heard,” he spoke, adding some warmth to his voice — who was he after all, a husband or a manager hiring a band? “Listen, I know what you think of them, and I know that it can be something that you are not ready for… So, Lucy Gray, are you sure? I have no doubt that song will end up being a masterpiece like always, but I do worry about you.”

His wife got up from the couch and stood behind the President's chair, allowing Coriolanus to touch her hand — when he kissed the top of it like back in the old days, she smiled again, leaning her cheek against the wooden back of the chair.

The couple seemed to be frozen in time, rarely changing since the day the train 'Capitol — District 12' arrived at its destination and a fresh former Peacekeeper, along with a scared yet still standing young girl in a ruffled dress came down, not looking like they were fitting in the glitz and glamour of the “Gem of Panem, mighty city”.

Who could have ever guessed that this is where they will end up in 16 years? Certainly Coriolanus. Certainly not Lucy Gray.

"…I'm sure. Otherwise, who could ever believe that I am trying to be genuine? Don't say that it is going to be you."

˚｡⋆❅⋆｡˚

The Seasonal parties of the Capitol Elite were something everyone was looking forward to each year — some dept-drowning citizens from regular sides could have buried themselves even deeper in the pit of constant starvation and overconsumption, just to have an opportunity to fight for a ticket to a single one of those parties.

And, while some might have let such desperate fools inside, the Presidential Palace was a completely unreachable haven even for the ones who had money, yet lacked the right family name to be allowed entrance. Everyone knew, that if Coriolanus Snow did not invite you to his party, you and your entire list of offerings do not matter to him.

The Hunger Games opening season. A month was left until the fateful day of the 4th of July, and the Capitol was already covered with announcements and billboards, some of the Capitolites taking off work day to enjoy the festivities and preparations, with many caring more about the parties than about the upcoming show of slaughter.

And even in the endless streams of bright parties, the ones held in the Presidential Palace were famous for not being similar to any of them.

Tonight the Palace looked unmatchable, with the soft lights around the white building and some falling on the garden giving it some form of the majestical aura — the smell of roses was softly decorating the air and almost every guest could not get their eyes off from both the flowers and the interior of the building.

“I’ve been here for so many and still admire it — the President for sure knows how to create the best of spoils!”