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sugaakookiee · 7 days ago

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The Songbird and The Outlaw

Title: The Songbird and the Outlaw

Paring: Lucy Gray Baird x Billy the Kid “William Bonney”

Genre: Western

Word Count: 10.6K (12K~ including songs)

Posting Day: 031925

Inspiration: lg.baird (1), lg.baird (2), zeglythlvr (1), zeglythlvr (2), blythsluv, flikrstarr_dust,

Songs used: Nothing You Can Take From Me, Lucy Gray, The Hanging Tree, The Ballad of Lucy Gray, Keep On The Sunny Side, Deep in The Meadow, The Old Therebefore (there are others but only mentioned, you may have a playlist while reading if you'd like, or skip them if you’d like)

(AN: no, you are not crazy, there are a ton of things from “The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes” and “Billy The Kid”. I tried to use the Covey’s attitude from the book rather than the movie.)

Things in Lincoln were getting tense-so tense that the citizens felt the issues by the wisp of the breeze. The tensions between two shopkeepers, Murphy and Tunstall, were at an all-time high, according to everyone in town. People couldn’t go into either shop without feeling like they were betraying the other. It was getting too much to bear.

It seemed like every other day in Lincoln until some citizens noticed five figures coming up on foot, carrying various rucksacks and oddly shaped cases on their backs. They scope the area, and then one of the oldest, a woman, looks back at the others. The rest of the children shake their heads, and then they all walk into the town.

“Excuse me,” The same woman says to a close bystander. She was young, with almond skin and dark brown curly hair, and dressed unlike anyone in Lincoln. “There a place we can stay around here?” She asked, to which the Samaritan pointed to a building that said “Lodge.” The young woman nods in appreciation and then walks in the pointed direction. The rest of the newcomers follow the young lady, and one of them, a brightly-haired little girl, squeaks out a ‘thank you’ to the helpful individual.

The group stops at the entrance, scanning the room until they see a desk with a person behind it. They placed their belongings on the floor to give their bodies a break. “Hi there,” The young woman said to the older lady behind the desk as she approached it, “How much for a night stay in one room?”

“You sure it's for one room?” The lady asked, acknowledging the four other characters at the entrance.

The young woman dug into her change pouch and placed various coins on the desk, “Is that enough for two rooms?”

The lady looked at the coins and then at the group of children before speaking up, “What's your name?” She said that the young woman.

“Lucy Gray, ma'am, and this is my family,” The young woman, Lucy Gray, pointed at the rest of the group behind her. She points at each one, introducing them, “This is Maude Ivory,” The bright-haired one who said thank you earlier. “Barb Azure,” an older willow girl with brown hair. “Tam Amber,” a dark-skinned boy with cloudlike hair, about the same age as the older girl. “And Clerk Carmine,” a young boy who looks slightly older than the little girl, with long brown hair pulled back into a braid.

“Where are you all from, Lucy Gray?”

“Appalachia, ma'am. A long way from here.”

The older woman stays silent, looking at all the newcomers, then speaks, “It's just about enough.” She slides back three bronze coins to Lucy Gray, then turns to hanged keys on the wall. She turns back with two sets of keys, “Don't lose them.”

Both Barb Azure and Tam Amber -the two oldest reach their hands out to grab ahold of the keys, one set each. They all pick up their belongings from the floor. All but Lucy Gray make their way to the room, making Maude Ivory take hold of her hand, not wanting to be away from her cousin. Lucy Gray assured her she’d be okay and to go on with the rest of the group, to which Maude Ivory obliged.

Once they're gone from the vicinity, Lucy Gray spoke, “Y'all got anywhere for entertainment around here?”

The lady looks up and down at Lucy Gray, “What kind of entertainment?”

Lucy Gray chuckles and hauls her shaped case on top of the desk. She unlocks the sides and opens it, revealing a guitar, “Entertainment. You see, my family and I, we’re musicians. We need money to keep going.”

The lady nods in understanding, “Try the saloon. Maybe they’ll like you down there.” Lucy Gray nods in appreciation, locks the guitar case, picks up the rest of her belongings off the floor, and goes to her room.

The whole afternoon was Lucy Gray trying to convince the saloon’s owner to let her family play for the night and hopefully for a few days afterward. When the city darkens by the night sky, the saloon fills up with its usual attendees. It was always tummy butterflies on the first night of performances for the band. They weren’t sure if it was to be a tough crowd or if they were to be loved.

The saloon had its usual drinkers, poker, and pool players who barely had enough money to give in to their vices. The night would have gone how it usually goes if it weren’t for the voice of the saloon’s owner bouncing off the walls.

“Alright, everyone, we’re going to be doing a little something different for tonight.” Everyone turned their attention to the owner’s voice in the corner of the room, which was a makeshift stage, a wooden board lifting someone one inch off the floor, “We’ve got a bit of a show for you tonight by…” his voice trailed off, leaning to the backdoor behind him, lifting the blanket that covered the outside world. Various whispers are heard behind the curtains before the owner turns back to the audience and completes his sentence, “The Covey Band.”

Four individuals emerged from the door, carrying various instruments. Three of them move forward into their spots: a female Bass player, a male Mandolin player, and a boy fiddle player. The youngest, a girl holding a single drum against her hip, comes forward, and a little voice speaks, “We’re going to start the night with something we like to call ‘The Appalachian Stomp.’” Their audience soon found out why it had such a name. It made you want to move and stomp around. People at the bar move their feet against the legs of their chairs, and those at tables get up and hoe down with the nearest partner.

As the song continues, more people enter the saloon, entranced by the noises from inside. From the tensions between the two shopkeepers, it was good for everyone to feel like there were no problems in their town, at least for the night. Attendees scaled from your proper citizens to your wildest cowboys, enjoying The Covey’s exciting tune. Those who had seen the group earlier can only think about how one stranger is missing and wonder where she is.

Quickly, the saloon feels humid and hot from everyone's fast movements on the floor, along with the small space of the building. Soon after, the stomp ends, giving everyone a break for their tired feet. The little girl from the beginning comes up again to speak, her high voice addressing the whole room, “Is it hot in here?” Everyone shouted a ‘yeah’ back, “‘Cause we’re planning on heating it a set more!” Woos are let out by a few people in the crowd, “The one, the only Lucy Gray Baird!” The little girl exclaimed. Cheers and claps come from each person in the room.

The one they call by that name emerges from the back room wearing a dress, a black bodice with sleeves, and a striped skirt, holding a guitar. She does a single spin, showing off the flow of her skirt, before making her way to the front. Her appearance was met by the sound of wolf whistles from men, making it clear that they found her attractive.

“Well, hey there, Lincoln. I’ve seen that you’ve met my family.” Lucy Gray extends her arm to her right, “These are my cousins Maude Ivory and Barb Azure.” She then extends her other arm to the left, “And these two are Tam Amber and Clerk Carmine.” She notices a young man extending a bottle toward her, “Oh! is that bottle there for me?” The young man passed the bottle to Lucy Gray, “You know, I stopped drinking when I was 12.” She proceeds to twist off the cap and take a swig, causing laughter in the crowd. She tosses it back to the young man, which he catches, “It’s to clear my pipes. Now, how about a song, huh?”

One chord is played before the little one, Maude Ivory, smoothly sings.

You can't take my past

You can't take my history

Another chord plays as Tam Amber, the Mandolin player, joins in with his singing.

You could take my pa,

But his name's a mystery.

Lucy Gray’s voice follows softly.

Nothin' you can take from me was ever worth keepin'

Oh, nothin' you can take was ever worth keepin'

The band exploded in volume and tempo, causing everyone to bounce along to the beat. Lucy Gray continues, a bright smile on her face.

You can't take my charm

You can't take my humor

You can't take my wealth

Because it's just a rumor

Her eyes travel across the room, seeing everyone’s faces in the crowd. Her gaze slowly transformed into an alluring one, wanting to catch the attention of a certain demographic in the audience.

Nothin' you can take was ever worth keepin'

No, nothin' you can take was ever worth keepin'

Thinkin' you're so fine

Lucy Gray’s voice trails off, and her sultry gaze is interrupted, making eye contact with a man with bright blue eyes and a cowboy hat, making her miss a line. He’s sitting solo at the Saloon’s bar while everyone else is on their feet. She quickly continues without missing a step.

Thinkin' you're in control, thinkin' you'll change me

Maybe rearrange me. Think again if that's your goal

The band continues to play another song sung by Lucy Gray, called “Crawling to You.” After the tune, three of the band’s players exit through the door they had entered earlier. Before the next song, she spoke as loudly as she could to grab everyone’s attention.

“Now, for this next one, I’d like you all to do something for me. See, my little cousin here, she's a little nervous.” The little girl shakes her head to contrast what is said, making everyone laugh, “And this is her favorite one, so please, if you would.” Lucy Gray lifted her finger against her lips, wanting everyone to quiet down for her cousin, which made the whole place immediately silent. Lucy Gray plays a few strings before Maude Ivory starts to sing.

Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:

And, when I crossed the wild,

I chanced to see at break of day

The solitary child.

No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;

She dwelt where none abide,

The sweetest thing that ever grew

Upon the mountainside

You yet may spy the fawn at play

The hare among the green

But the sweet face of Lucy Gray

Will never more be seen

This one was Maude Ivory's favorite, a rendition of a poem Lucy Gray had gotten her name from. As it went by, the hall became haunting.

"Tonight will be a stormy night

You, to the town, must go

And take a lantern, child, to light

Your mother through the snow."

"That, Father, will I gladly do

'Tis scarcely afternoon

The village clock has just struck two

And yonder is the moon."

At this, the Father turned his hook

To kindling for the day

He plied his work, and Lucy took

The lantern on her way

As carefree as a mountain doe:

A fresh, new path she broke

Her feet dispersed the powdery snow,

That rose up just like smoke.

As it finished, the room was quiet. It seemed to have caught up that Lucy Gray in the song was nothing but a ghost, a child who went missing in the snow. Maude Ivory and Lucy Gray take a bow, then call the rest of the band for them to continue the show. Lucy Gray leaves to the backdoor while the rest continue with the set. The little girl stays front and center, counting up, “One, Two, Three, Four!” then the instruments play again.

Well, there's a dark and troubled side to life

There's a bright and sunny side, too

Though we meet with darkness and strife

Oh, the sunny side, we also may view

Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side

Keep on the sunny side of life

It will help us every day. It will brighten all the way

If we keep on the sunny side of life

As the song continues, Lucy Gray emerges from the backdoor, without her guitar this time. She and the rest of the Covey knew she had a certain charm, which she used to her benefit, flirting with various men who approached her. Most men only wanted to buy her a drink and talk to her, while others wanted more. Unbeknownst to her, the young man who made eye contact with her earlier had his eyes on her, seeing her talking to the men around her, wondering when he should step in.

Oh, the storm and its fury broke today

Crushing hopes that we cherish so dear

Clouds and storms will in, time pass away

Hey, oh, the sun again will shine bright and clеar

Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side

Keep on the sunny side of life

It will help us every day. It will brighten all the way

If we keep on the sunny side of life

He looks at the band on the stage, trying to focus on the music, and yet, he can only look back at Lucy Gray. Should he be like everyone else and offer her a drink? No, cause unlike being them, he’d want to stick out like a sore thumb, like he always has.

Let us greet with a song of hope each day

Though the moments be cloudy or fair

Let us trust in tomorrow always

To keep us, one and all, in its care

Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side

Keep on the sunny side of life

It will help us every day. It will brighten all the way

If we keep on the sunny side of life

Yes, keep on the sunny side of life

The end notes of the song play, making everyone clap at the little girl’s performance. Maude Ivory steps to the side, softly puts her drum down, and replaces it with a basket. She approaches the front of the makeshift stage, and her squeaky voice speaks loudly, “Now, y’all, we understand that some of you might not have so much, but we need to eat too, so if you would, your donations will be appreciated.”

She takes off from the stage while the other three stay and continue to play as Maude Ivory collects change from the attendees. As she traveled through the hall, she stopped at a young man sitting alone at the bar. She was expecting either a few coins or nothing at all. To her surprise, he digs into his pocket, pulls out a few crumpled dollar bills, and places them in the basket. The little girl gasps in surprise before expressing her thanks in her squeaky voice.

The girl quickly rushes to reach the side of Lucy Gray, surely to tell her about the young man who gave them dollar bills as donations. Maude Ivory tugs at her cousin’s dress to grab her attention. The young man can’t tell what the child is saying, but soon, she points her finger in his direction. Lucy Gray looks up to see the young man who made her interrupt her song earlier. When it was clear they could see each other, he slightly tips his hat to her. A smile and a slight blush fall on Lucy Gray’s face before she turns back to Maude Ivory.

After a good night's rest, the Covey plan to explore the town and shop for supplies for the road. Food and water were essential. They needed enough to make it to the next town. Lucy Gray had her guitar in hand, feeling the urge to be left alone, at least for a few minutes. She pats Barb Azure's shoulder to let her know she’ll be going for a bit and will see them again later.

What she didn’t know is the character from last night saw her going off on her own and would follow her soon after.

She found herself sitting in a field of dry grass just outside town, where she could see everyone, but they wouldn’t notice her. She had her guitar on her lap, her hands on the neck and above the sound hole. Sometimes, she wanted nobody to hear her sing, especially when she sang certain songs. One she wrote, called “The Hanging Tree,” was something that would get her killed if she sang it back home in front of people. Her voice comes out melancholy, and her fingers start on the strings.

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where they strung up a man they say murdered three?

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Before she can continue with her song, she hears the snap of a twig nearby, making her quickly turn her head to look at who tried to sneak up on her. Her mouth was slightly agape seeing the young man with the bank notes from last night. She stands up, gently placing her guitar on the ground.

“You.” Lucy Gray said, “From last night,” recognizing his face, yet she never caught his name.

He smiles at her, appreciating that she recalled him, “William Bonney, Miss. What's your name?” He heard her name was from yesterday, but a proper introduction was in order.

“It's Lucy Gray,” She said. Her eyes travel up and down his body quickly, “Those clothes. That hat. You’re a cowboy.” William nods, pushing Lucy Gray to ask one more question, “You're an outlaw, aren't you?”

“Does that make you scared of me, Lucy Gray?”

She shakes her head, “No. I have enough people to be afraid of.”

William digs his hand in his pocket and pulls out a half-crumpled red rose, not the romantic kind Lucy Gray noted. “I got this for you.” He said. Slowly but surely, she grabbed the stem, taking the flower away from his hand.

“You mind?” He nods his chin toward where she is sitting, and she shakes her head at his question.

“Of course not.” She responded.

They sit on the patch that Lucy Gray occupied by herself earlier. Both of them are quiet, him looking out to the busy town and her studying the rose.

“You know,” William looks at Lucy Gray as she starts speaking, “When I was little, my mama used to bathe me in buttermilk and rose petals.” She plucked a petal off the bud and pointed it towards her lips, taking it into her mouth. She closes her eyes, taking in the taste, “Taste like bedtime.” She opens her eyes soon after.

“And she’s back where you’re from, your mama?”

“Only her bones, darling, only her pearly white bones. What about you? You got family?”

He shakes his head, “My pa got sick when I was a kid. The doctors never found out what it was. My ma, she died of consumption. So did my little brother.”

“So you’re an orphan, then. Just like me.”

William nods, taking in the information, then catches glimpses of her guitar on the ground beside her, “That was a nice song. You wrote it?”

Lucy Gray looks at him with surprise that he heard the song, “Yeah. I wrote it back at home. It’s about a hanging I saw a few days before I left. They hanged him because they said he murdered three people.” She looked off into the distance, recollecting the moment, the man and his voice echoing inside her head, “Run, Lil, run!” he yelled at his wife before that necklace of rope took his life.

Silence fell between them, not knowing what to say about the story. After a while, William interrupted the quiet, “Could I hear the rest of it?”

She nods, taking her guitar on her lap again, “From the beginning, or where I stopped?”

“The beginning, if you don’t mind.”

They spent the whole day together, sitting in that patch of dry grass until dark. They talked about almost everything: their upbringing, their family. William offered to walk Lucy Gray to the lodge for her safety.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Asked Lucy Gray as they approach the doorway of the building.

He shakes his head, “Not tomorrow. I got-” he pauses for a second, “I’ve got a job to do tomorrow.”

“Alright, then, I’ll see you over-morrow night then. We got a show to do at the saloon again.” She holds up the rose he gifted her earlier, “Thank you.” She smiles at him before heading inside.

The next day, since Lucy Gray and William couldn't meet during the day, the Covey spent it rehearsing several songs they could perform for the upcoming night. They did have to quiet down a bit after some of the other tenants complained about the noise, or else they could no longer stay in the lodge.

William never wanted to open up about what he did for his job, which was working for the shop owner, Mr. Murphy, especially to Lucy Gray. As a man who falls in love so quickly, he doesn't want her to have a reason to be scared of him.

Since Tunstall came to Lincoln, Murphy’s business with his farmers had gone sour. As it turns out, people don’t appreciate when you’re not giving them enough money to survive. This day wasn’t the first time that Murphy had the Seven Rivers Gang harassing his farmers at their homes for switching sides, but this time, it was getting serious. A simple telling-off wasn’t going to be enough. Murphy had left today's job to Jesse Evans, Pat Garret, and William.

“I told you! I told you not to sell grain to Tunstall, right? You have a contract with us!” Jesse yelled out, slamming his hand on the table that occupied cups and plates.

“Dice que te dijo que ya no vendieras grano a Tunstall, porque tienes acuerdo con nosotros.” William translated to the man, trying to diffuse the situation. It didn’t help that the man’s family was a few feet away, clearly frightened by Jesse’s aggressive and demeaning manners.

“Lo tengo que vender a Tunstall. Si no, no ago dinero, y sin dinero, no le puedo a dar a comer a mi familia.” The man said, pointing to his family behind him. William translated back, hoping that was the end of it, but he was wrong.

Before the man knew it, Jesse grabbed him by the back of his head, pulling him down. He leaned into his ear and spoke in an angered hushed voice. “Enough talking. All right? I warned you. I warned you! Mr. Murphy wants you to stop selling grain to Tunstall right now. Got that? Otherwise, we're gonna torch your farm, and we'll run you off the territory.” He pushed the man away, making him fall onto a wooden counter. “You got that?” Jesse asked once more as he was walking away.

The man decided to gamble with his life the second he lifted the rifle that he had on the counter. He pulls it up and aims towards the direction of the three men, more specifically, towards Jesse. He goes to cock to the rifle, “This is my home! I will never leave!”

Before the man’s rifle could go off, Pat pulls the gun out of his hostler, points it at the man, and pulls the trigger. The man collapses to the ground, bleeding out from the bullet hole.

Unfortunately for him, the news travels fast in this town. During the Covey’s late lunch in the lodge’s restaurant, they overheard two people at a nearby table. They were talking about a Mexican farmer who was shot dead. Lucy Gray heard the mention of three names, Pat Garret, Jesse Evans, and Billy Antrim, who were present at the scene but never said who shot the farmer.

Billy Antrim? She thought about it deeply for a minute. Why does that name sound familiar? She couldn't stop thinking about it. She swore she'd heard that name somewhere. She tried to think of all the places the band had been and the hundreds of names she'd heard since. It finally registered: a while before the Covey came to Lincoln, they had shows in Silver City and seen wanted posters on the sheriff’s board. She remembers one that said, “Wanted. Dead or alive. Billy Antrim. Wanted for attempted robbery and escaping custody.” An image of the person’s face appears in her head, and the more she thinks about it, the more it looks like the one she knows as William Bonney.

It was the night of the show, and Lucy Gray didn't feel right, performing after a man had been shot dead, and her new friend was possibly the one who did it. She didn't feel right, wearing her mama’s rainbow dress, having flowers in her hair, and her show-quality makeup on her face. It was too bright for the current situation, but her family's music makes people feel happy, so that is what she's doing.

As the covey unpacks their instruments, people reel into the saloon, anticipating their performances. Lucy Gray keeps her eyes on the door, waiting for him to enter until he does. Once he walks through the entrance, she rushes towards his side and pulls him outside by his wrist, making bystanders look after them.

“Lucy Gray, what's wrong?” William asked in concern as they stepped outside the building.

“You killed him, didn't you? That man, yesterday.”

He looks at her with soft eyes, wanting to calm her hostility, “No, I didn't. I was there, but I didn't kill anyone.”

She bites her bottom lip anxiously. She had to bring it up. She had to. “What about in Silver City? Did you try to rob someone? Were you going to kill them too?”

“No.” He inhaled shortly, feeling like he’d explained himself a million times about that situation. Lucy Gray interjects in the middle, ‘Do not lie to me.’ He quickly picks up his response, “I didn't steal anything, and I wasn't going to kill anyone. I didn't know what I was getting myself into.”

“Is there anything else I should know about? Something they didn't catch in the papers? Should I be glad I survived you?”

“No, Lucy Gray, I promise I won't hurt you.” He sighed. “I had a friend back in Chihuahua, and they were going to hang him for something I did. I killed a poker dealer, and they locked him up for it. They were going to hang him. I…” he trails off, “I had to kill two rangers to get him out.” Lucy Gray opens her mouth to say something, but William continues to speak, “And I killed a man on accident in Arizona. It was self-defense. I can swear to you on that.”

Lucy Gray can only look away from him in frustration, unsure what to think. William reaches over to cup her face, gently making her look at him, “I'll promise you this. I'm not going to hurt you. If I do end up killing someone while you're here, I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything. I won't keep it from you.”

She exhaled stressfully, “I just don't feel good singing. A man just got killed. I don't think we should be playing tonight.”

“I know, and I don’t like it any more than you do, but listen to me, okay?” He holds her head by the sides, making her look at him, “You're going to go in there, and you're going to sing. Sing as if nothing happened. Don't worry about it. They have the man who did it, he's locked up, and I went to the funeral. I paid my respects. It's all taken care of.”

The way William had taken hold of Lucy Gray close to him, she could only look at his blue eyes, and he only looked at her brown ones. He leaned in, making her back away in surprise. Before they know it, the flesh of their lips touches one another. Lucy Gray could feel William’s hand gently moving against her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, and her hands resting on his wrists as they stayed connected. At that very moment, it felt like Lucy Gray was the oxygen William needed. They only part when they hear footsteps approaching. They look back to see the little one, Maude Ivory, pointing her finger inside the saloon, signaling the band is starting.

“I'll see you after, won't I?” Lucy Gray asked, to which William nodded, then let her go inside.

The show went as usual as it could go. The band played the first two songs from the other night to warm up the audience. The next one was “I'll Sell You For A Song.” Lucy Gray thought the mournful words and instrumentals were appropriate for yesterday’s events. After it's over, four of them put down their instruments and leave Lucy Gray alone for the next song.

“How y'all doing tonight, Lincoln?” She asked, loud enough for everyone to hear, to which they all holler a response. “I'm glad to hear that. Now, for this next one, I would like it to be real quiet in here 'cause I'm on my own, alright?” A few men in the room said, ‘Yes, ma'am’ upon her request. “I wrote this song about a boy back at home, and a part of me hoped he was here to hear it.” Soon after, the strings of her guitar echo through the room.

When I was a babe, I fell in the holler.

When I was a girl, I fell into your arms.

We fell on hard times, and we lost our bright color

You went to the dogs, and I lived by my charms.

I danced for my dinner, spread kisses like honey

You stole, and you gambled, and I said you should

We sang for our suppers. We drank up our money

Then, one day, you left, saying I was no good

As the song continued, everyone's eyes were on Lucy Gray, not wanting to take them off her, entranced by her piece, going from reminiscent to resentment.

Well, all right, I'm bad, but then, you're no prize either

All right, I'm bad, but then, that's nothing new

You say you won't love me. I won't love you neither

Just let me remind you what I am to you

Cause I am the one who looks out when you're leaping

I am the one who knows how you were brave

And I am the one who heard what you said sleeping.

I'll take that and more when I go to my grave

Lucy Gray looked around the room, seeing several women getting glossy eyes from threatening tears as the words left her lips. Tears threatened to leave hers as well, as the continued verses enacted some fear in her, especially when it had to do with her morbidity. Unfortunately for her, it’s shown on her face.

It's sooner than later that I'm six feet under.

It's sooner than later that you'll be alone.

So, who will you turn to tomorrow, I wonder?

For when the bell rings, lover, you're on your own.

I am the one who you let see you weeping.

I know the soul that you struggle to save.

Too bad I'm the bet that you lost in the reaping.

Now, what will you do when I go to my grave?

Some wipe their eyes while others cheer on Lucy Gray. The words indicated that someone had done a number on her, but whoever this boy was wouldn’t survive without her. William couldn’t help but feel a pain in his heart. He knew that she might’ve had another life before coming here. He couldn’t imagine what that boy could have done to Lucy Gray to be dedicated such a melancholy song.

Soon after, little Maude Ivory comes next to Lucy Gray. Her squeaky voice announced the next song, a poem called “Clementine,” put into a song and pleaded to whoever knew it to sing along. Those who did not know only heard of a story of a little girl, the daughter of a miner, who lost her life and how nobody could save her. After it was over, the other three returned, picking up their instruments from the floor. Lucy Gray takes her leave, exiting through the backdoor to pack her guitar before returning and finding a seat next to William. He didn’t look at her even after feeling her presence.

“Is this real?” She looks at William as he starts talking, “You and me, is it real?”

“As real as it can be, Sweetheart.” She gave him a small smile.

“Lucy Gray, that…that song…” He trailed off, but she already knew what he was about to say.

“That song was payback. My old boyfriend, Billy Taupe, was cheating on me with the mayor’s daughter. She got crazy jealous and threatened that her pa would hang me for something I didn’t do, so I had to leave.”

“And them? The Covey? Did they have to leave, too?”

She gives him a slight shake of her head, “Nah. Not all of us, at least.”

“What do you mean?”

Lucy Gray looked back to see if anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation, then pulled her attention back to William when she saw the coast was clear, “Can you keep a secret?” He nods. “My cousin, Barb Azure, the one on the bass.” William glances at who she refers to as Barb Azure before his gaze returns to Lucy Gray, “She had a girl back home. She loved her, but Appalachia doesn't take too kindly to people like her. Either way, I kept telling them they could look after each other. They didn’t need me. Of course, they wouldn’t let me leave on my own. Especially my little Maude Ivory, she’d follow me everywhere.”

They both look back to see the little girl, front and center, just like Lucy Gray a few minutes ago, and her little voice says, “One Two Three Four!” before going into “Keep On The Sunny Side.”

Lucy Gray nods her head towards the direction of the music, “How about a dance?” Before William could say anything, a man came up behind him, giving them both a spook. He had a similar attire to William, with his blonde hair tied back. There was a sense of familiarity between them, Lucy Gray noted. When he finally looked at her, William cleared his throat, “Lucy Gray, this is Jesse Evans.” He was there. He was there when that farmer got murdered. It was unfortunate for her. She’s met this man before today, and not under the best circumstances.

“So, this is the birdy you were on about the other day.” Jesse Evans says, then his eyes travel up and down her figure, “She’s good money spent, Billy.” He leans into William’s ear, acting as if to whisper, yet Lucy Gray still hears, “She’ll get on her knees for some change, and maybe a little more if you ask nicely.” He walks away, giving a pat on William’s shoulder.

When it came to someone like Jesse Evans, that only had one meaning: At some time between tonight and the night Lucy Gray started performing, she had sex with Jesse. William didn’t know how to feel. They weren’t together, but he thought the feeling between them was evident. It was reminiscent of when William was into the same woman as Jesse a while back, but it was different this time. William honestly liked her for her, while Jesse only liked “riding her,” as he put it once.

“What was that about?” William asks.

Lucy Gray shakes her head slightly, “Things I’m not proud of doing but are necessary. I’d rather feel like nothing for a few minutes than have my family not eat for the day.” William can only nod. “How about that dance, then? Or would you rather have a drink or two?” The music was not over yet, and Lucy Gray didn’t want to end this meeting on a poor note.

“I have to meet someone right now, so I can’t stay. I’m not that happy with my job. I’m thinking of getting a new one.”

“Was this job the reason that man is dead?”

William hesitates but nods his head to her question. He stands up from his seat, unsure to kiss her, but does it anyway, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, we’re off swimming tomorrow afternoon if you want to join us?” Lucy Gray asked, with a hint of hesitation, not knowing how he would react.

“Swimming? Where?”

“There was a lake about two or three hours back. Maybe you’ll meet us half away?”

“Alright. I’ll see you.” He said as he turned to leave.

“And William…” He turns to look back at her. “I’ll tell you everything.”

That night, William went off to see Mr.McSweeny, an attorney for Mr.Tunstall and told him he could meet the boss tomorrow morning, which he did. The next day, William had a meeting with Mr.Tunstall, which felt odd. He disliked a man he’d never met because he worked for the rival Major Murphy. One of the things that interested William was that Mr.Tunstall could erase William's past as an outlaw and that he wouldn't have to cheat and kill his customers. Unknowingly, during the meeting, Major Murphy’s boys fearmonger his contracted farmers for not paying their due. Unfortunately, there were a lot of casualties, including men, women, and children. To William, those deaths were unjust, which was something cause he always had an excuse to take someone out.

Later that day, William was glad he had somewhere he could go. He felt disgusted with his friends because of their actions. He and his horse were going in the direction Lucy Gray had told him. After some time, it seemed like they hadn’t made their way yet, not seeing them to his visible eye. When it seemed as if nobody was in sight, he noticed five figures walking onto the horizon. He commands his horse to hurry to catch up to the group.

As he gets closer, he can see them tense up, hear the footsteps of his horse, and turn around to see who’s coming. Lucy Gray assures them this visitor is a safe one. All five had a sack hooked by their shoulder, carrying food, water bags, and other essentials for their trip.

“Well, hey there, stranger. You lost?” Lucy Gray joked at William.

“I don’t think so, Miss. I’m at the exact place I need to be.” He said, playfully tipping his off, making her laugh. “How do you all know where you’re going?”

“Tam Amber is very good at direction.” She shouts to the young man at the front, leading the group. “Ain’t that right, Tam Amber?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He shouts back.

They continue for a few minutes before Maude Ivory tugs on Lucy Gray’s purple dress, “My feet hurt.” She says. “These shoes don’t walk right. They’re too tight.”

“They’re an old pair of C.C’s. When we get enough, we can buy you a pair of your own.” Lucy Gray assures her.

“Can I get on your horse?” Maude Ivory asked William, lightly brushing on his white stallion.

He looked down at the little girl, and for a moment, he saw a flash of his little brother, “Sure, but you need to hold on tight.”

Maude Ivory nods, assuring the both of them she will be careful. Lucy Gray grabs her cousin by her waist to push her up while William grabs her by the arms to pull. After making sure she was safe and secure, they continued the walk.

“Now that I’m getting carried, does that mean I can sing my song?” Maude Ivory asks but starts singing loudly before anybody answers.

In a cavern, in a canyon,

Excavating for a mine,

Dwelt a miner, forty-niner

And his daughter, Clementine.

Light she was and like a fairy,

And her shoes were number nine.

Herring boxes, without topses,

Sandals were for Clementine.

“Oh, quiet down!” Clerk Carmine says, looking back at Maude Ivory, clearly annoyed at her. She sticks out her tongue at him before he turns back around. She waves to Lucy Gray to grab her attention, “Can you sing your song?” Lucy Gray answers with an of course before clearing her throat to sing.

Oft I’d heard of Lucy Gray

And when I cross the wild

A chance to see at break of day

The solitary child

And then an open field they crossed

The marks were still the same

They tracked them on

Not ever lost

And to the bridge, they came

They followed from the snowy bank

Those footmarks, one by one

Into the middle of the plank

And further, there were none

Yet some maintain that to this day

She is a living child

That you may see sweet Lucy Gray

Upon the lonesome wild

“What do you think happened to Lucy Gray in the song?” Maude Ivory asked upon the song’s ending, leaving everyone to answer.

“I think she’s dead.” Clerk Carmine says, “She’s a ghost, and ghosts don’t leave footprints.”

“Then where’s her body?” Barb Azure asked.

“She probably fell somewhere.” Tam Amber responded dryly.

Maude Ivory turns her attention back to her cousin, “What do you think, Lucy Gray?”

“Maybe she flew away afterward. I'm sure she’s somewhere out there. She’s a survivor, Maude Ivory, but it’s a mystery, sweetheart, just like me. That’s why it’s my song.”

By the time they got to the lake, William was dry-tongued and hot, not being used to slow speeds in the middle of the desert. Rugs rolled out on the ground, and outerwear was off to swim, their colorful swimwear in view. Tam Amber, Barb Azure, Clark Carmine, and Maude Ivory immediately jump into the warm water, shrieking delightfully. William was hesitant to join in but felt at ease once he saw Lucy Gray pulling off her dress, revealing her two-pieced swimwear. The way she looked at him before jumping into the water herself was inviting him to go after her. At that moment, he had forgotten the previous night and the troubles it enacted. Despite not having anything for swimming, he quickly undressed down to his undergarments and threw himself into the water.

After a while of being in the water, Lucy Gray and William found themselves lying on a rug, everyone back in their outerwear, taking in the nature around them. As he laid back, she rested her head on his stomach. They both take in the sounds, smells, and sights before he speaks.

“I got you something. I thought you would like it.” William says as he gets something out of his pants pocket. Lucy Gray looks to see a dark orange scarf coming her way. As she takes hold of it, she takes a few moments to admire it before looking up to him, “Thank you. I'll take good care of it. I promise.” She looks down at the scarf, then chuckles, “William Bonney, you are the cake with the cream.”

“The what?” William laughs at her strange phrase.

“It’s just something we say where we're from. It just means something good that gets better.” Soon after, she lifts herself from his stomach and sits upright, “I need to explain what happened last night.”

“Lucy Gray, it doesn't matter.”

“It does. That Jesse Evans was your friend, and we’re…” she paused, unsure what was happening between them. “If you want to run, now’s the time. I won’t blame you.”

“I'm not going to run, Lucy Gray. Just tell me.”

William sees her swallow nervously before speaking, checking if the rest of the Covey could hear her. They couldn't. “When we started going on the road, it was harder to earn money. Sometimes, we'd have to choose between sleeping comfortably or eating that day. I figured people pay for having me for just a few minutes.”

“How many have there been?”

“23, including your friend from the last night. I'm not proud of it, but whatever pays. You'd be surprised by how many are willing to hurt you for their pleasure.” She said, recollecting all the times she’d been slapped, hit, choked, and sometimes cut. William was about to say something before Clerk Carmine ran towards them and kneeled to Lucy Gray, handing her various flowers.

“Oh, you two picked these?” referring to Clerk Carmine and Maude Ivory as she takes them out of his hold.

“Yep.” He said before hurrying to the little girl’s side. Lucy Gray rushed a thank you before he was too far. She looks at the boy with a proud expression, but it slowly turns into concern.

“I worry about him. He misses Billy Taupe.” She said, “He was his brother. We turned him away after what he did to me.”

“Do you?” William asked without thinking. He didn't know why. He didn't want to find out if she did. “Do you miss him?”

“Not since I left, no.”

Nothing was said after that, only Willliam reaching over the flowers in Lucy Gray’s hand. He takes one and tucks it behind her left ear. This act made the space between them smaller. He cupped the side of her face and whispered, just for her to hear, “I won't hurt you, Lucy Gray. You can trust me.”

She whispered back, “You can trust me, too. If there's anyone in the world you could trust, you can trust me.”

They both could only lean in to close the gap of their lips before it was interrupted by the high-pitched shriek from Maude Ivory, “It’s a snake! Lucy Gray, It’s a snake!” William quickly plants his hand on his gun in its holster, but Lucy Gray stops him, telling him it is unnecessary. She gets on her feet and walks to where the two children are, and William follows. She soon sees the snake-a small one with dark and light brown stripes.

“Come here, sweetheart.” She says as she picks it up from the ground. It wraps around her hand as if it knew her. She started to hum a tune that William didn’t recognize. She hadn’t sung it for their shows. Whatever it was, it seemed to calm the snake. He watches as the two children pet the snake or try to as it slithered across Lucy Gray’s hands. His eyes travel between the three individuals, wondering how he got there. His life was alright the way it was, or he thought so. Yet, since coming along with the Covey, he noted how peaceful life could be. He didn’t have to worry about Murphy, Tunstall, or getting locked up. It would just be him and his girl. He didn’t mind her family, so why not just run away? When he thought about it, nothing was keeping him in Lincoln. He could go, and nobody would miss him.

His thoughts are interrupted by incoming voices. From the other side of the lake come Tam Amber and Barb Azure with handmade fishing rods and a few fish in their hands. Lucy Gray gently puts the snake back down as they get closer. Soon after, they all sit around a fire, waiting for the fish to cook.

“You know, I never asked,” William said, catching Lucy Gray’s attention, “What is it with all your names? I’ve never heard anything like them before.”

Lucy Gray laughed, wondering how he hadn’t asked this question sooner, “All of our names come from ballads or poems, then a color.”

“Yeah, like mine is Maude Clare and Ivory like piano keys.” Maude Ivory says, overhearing the conversation. “Lucy Gray is special because she got her whole name from one. Maybe we can come up with a name for you, do you sing? You can be one of us.”

“I wouldn’t say I can sing. I know a few songs.” He replied to the little girl.

“Can we hear one?” Maude Ivory pleaded.

There was a limit to the songs William knew from his Irish background, but only one meant the world to him. It hurt him because it reminded him of his mother. It was the last thing she ever heard him say. He opened his mouth, and that memory came back to his head.

I'll take you home again, Kathleen

To where your heart will feel no pain

And when the fields are lush and green

I'll take you back again, Kathleen

Nobody said anything when William finished singing. They only had gloomy faces. It was like they knew the story behind his pain.

“That was your mama’s name, right? Kathleen?” Lucy Gray asked, to which William nodded. After that, it was silent, besides the cracking of the fire. Maude Ivory speaks after some time of silence.

“I know what we can call you. Billy Snow!”

“Billy Snow? Where’d you get that from?” William laughed at the little girl’s silliness. Maybe if he tried hard enough, it would be like he still had his little brother around.

“Well, Billy is short for William, and Snow, like white as snow.”

“Is there a ballad with Billy in it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You think you can write me one?”

“Lucy Gray writes the songs for the band. You gotta ask her.”

Soon after, the cooked fish was off the flame and distributed among the six individuals. The whole group would engage in conversation now, mostly asking William a thousand questions about who he was, about his story. In return, he’d asked why they were here. Didn’t any of them have a reason to stay in their homes? Not really. Lucy Gray’s daddy had been dead since she was six, and her mama, two years, along with her two siblings. Maude Ivory and Barb Azure’s families were gone as well. Tam Amber was someone they called a “lost soul.” What The Covey once was had found Tam Amber in a cardboard box when he was a baby, abandoned by his birth parents. Clerk Carmine was here because he chose who he thought was real family, not some backstabber. After all the fish was gone, Maude Ivory was fading, her eyes drooping and her head falling onto Barb Azure’s shoulder.

“You getting tired, baby?” Barb Azure said to the little girl, to which she nodded.

“You should sleep before we head back.” Said Lucy Gray, “We’ll have to go over some things for tomorrow.”

“I’ll only sleep if you’ll sing to me. The one you sang to me when I had Croup.”

Lucy Gray only taps on her lap, signaling Maude Ivory to lay her head there. She softly caresses the little girl’s head, soothing her as she sings so she can fall asleep.

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 again 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.

Much to the surprise of everyone, chirps are heard from trees nearby, seemingly singing along to Lucy Gray’s song. Everyone relaxes as if the song is making them all fall asleep. William took the time to think more about what his life would be like if this continued. No more running from the law, no other bounties on his back, just having Lucy Gray next to him, singing.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away

A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray

Forget your woes and let your troubles lay

And when again it’s morning, they’ll wash away.

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.

When Lucy Gray finished the song, she softly kissed the girl’s forehead. While Maude Ivory napped, Tam Amber, Barb Azure, and Clerk Carmine went to take one more splash in the water before they had to leave.

“How much longer are you going to stay?” William asked Lucy Gray. If they were to be together, they had to figure something out.

“We’re going to have to start moving eventually. Probably one more show tomorrow, then we'll be on our way the day after.”

“Do you know where you’re going next?”

“No, but that’s the beauty of it. We go wherever the fancy takes us.”

William nods in understanding, then nods toward Maude Ivory’s sleeping figure, “You think you can write me that song?” He said, referring to the conversation from earlier.

Lucy Gray laughs at his question, “We’ll have to see.”

After a while, the three got out of the water, and Maude Ivory woke up from her nap. They all picked up the supplies they brought, and William helped the little girl get on the horse before the group headed back to town. When they reached it, William helped the girl off the horse and said farewells to the Covey, leaving them to rest at the lounge. He hears a soft ‘bye, Billy Snow’ from Maude Ivory as she passes by, already using the name she coined earlier, and he returns the goodbye. As Lucy Gray is the last one, he takes hold of her wrist, making her turn to him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” He said. Lucy Gray nods, expecting William to let go, but not until he kisses her is when he does.

The next day, William had thought to leave Murphy’s corner and go with Tunstall, although, because of yesterday’s events, he wasn’t so sure he even wanted to stay in Lincoln. What he told Murphy’s boys was ‘he thought it would be better to move on.’ He went on a speech about how it would be great for him to start working for Tunstill, as Murphy using murder to repossess his lands had upset him enough to leave. Of course, Jesse wasn't an idiot. While everyone thought he was moving to Tunstill’s corner, he had seen how William looked at the saloon songbird, and she wasn't staying in town for much longer. Jesse couldn't believe William would give up everything the gang had worked for on some woman. Maybe the sleaze had seduced him so much he wanted to leave with her. Sure, Jesse thought she was a good piece for a night, but not good enough for a lifetime.

Nightfall came, and the saloon had once again filled with people waiting for the Covey to perform. Meanwhile, Lucy Gray was alone in the back room, unusually nervous. She had never been nervous before a show, but today was different. She had a song written for tonight, but he hadn't shown up yet. What if he wasn't there to hear it? Would it be better if he was? She didn't know. No matter what, the show must go on.

She gets on her feet as their introduction finalizes, signaling that it's her time to take to the stage. It was their last performance in Lincoln, so it needed to be their best. They played their usual songs, “Nothing You Can Take From Me” and “Crawling To You.” After, the little girl comes forward for her song in between. It follows the story of the girl, Lucy Gray, who had died in the snow but with different words, the version Lucy Gray preferred.

Afterward, Lucy Gray takes her place at the center of the stage again, clearing her voice to speak, “How are y'all doing tonight, Lincoln?” Hollers travel throughout the room, and she laughs at their response, “I’m glad to hear that. I hope you've enjoyed our shows, and it was wonderful to have you as an audience.” A few individuals expressed their disappointment in hearing it was their last show. “I know, I know. We’ll miss you too, but tonight, we've have something special.” With a simple signal, the band quietly started playing. Everyone was intrigued from the first note, as they hadn't played it before.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy and not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

As rough as a briar, like walking through fire

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

The slow theme of the tune encouraged the partnered pairs of the hall to dance to the tempo. Lucy Gray looked around to see if he had come. Of course, William was in his usual seat at the bar. She smiled as she finished the last phrase to which he returned.

Everyone wants to be like a hero

The cake with the cream, or the doer, not dreamer

Well, doing's hard work, but it takes some to change things

Like goat's milk to butter, like ice blocks to water

This world goes blind when children are dying

I turn into dust, but you never stop trying

It's why I love you

You're as pure as the driven snow

Lucy Gray looked at the audience, clearly enjoying the new song. It had been too long since she had the inspiration to write anything, and her inspiration was sitting, watching her, with his eyes glossing over as she continued to sing.

Cold and clean

Swirling over my skin

You cloak me

You soak right in down to my heart

Everyone thinks they know all about me

They slap me with labels and spit out their fables

You came along, and you knew it was lying

You saw the ideal me, and yes, that's the real me

Those too busy prancing with their partners couldn't see how Lucy Gray’s eyes slowly grew glossy. It had been the most personal she's gotten with her songs. How the mystery person this one speaks of sees Lucy Gray for who she is, and how they are so pure, she needs them with her heart and soul.

This world, it's cruel with troubles aplenty

You asked for a reason

I've got three and twenty

For why I trust you

You're as pure as the driven snow

It's why I trust you

You're as pure as the driven snow

The room roared with applause as the last word escaped Lucy Gray’s lips, impressed with the new song. Her eyes traveled through the room, landing where he sat, but the chair was empty. Lucy Gray thanks the audience, takes a bow and moves off the side for Maude Ivory to take center stage. She stays to watch her little cousin start the last song of the night for a moment. Lucy Gray couldn’t help but wonder if William had liked the song she wrote for him. He had disappeared from his seat. ‘Maybe he didn’t,’ she thought, but a slight whisper from the low-lightened back room brought her back to reality. She walked in to see William, seemingly waiting on her.

“What are you doing here?” Lucy Gray asked as William slightly pulled her close to him.

“I needed to talk to you. When you leave, I'm going with you.” She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by William, not wanting to hear her protests, “Listen to me, okay? I love you, Lucy Gray.” Her eyes soften, hearing those three words. He continues, “And I can't be behind bars or be on the run for the rest of my life. If it means I have to give up my gun, I will. For you.”

“You want to come with me? Truthfully?” He nodded at your questions, “If you're serious, we’ll be gone at noon. I'll see you then?”

“Yeah. We’ll disappear from here, like in your song.” Lucy Gray answered with a simple yeah before William connected his lips with hers. During the softly passionate moment, Lucy Gray could only think of what William had told her the other day. You can trust me. Part of her had thought it was too soon to give her heart to someone else after what her old boyfriend did, but who knows? If he was willing to leave his life as an outlaw, maybe it was worth it.

Unfortunately for them, the next day wouldn't go as smoothly as they wished it could.

The Covey were gathering their supplies for the road. Wherever they were going to go, it was a long way, which called for a lot of water, food, and sustainable tents to sleep at night. Perhaps things will be better this time. Maybe little Maude Ivory’s feet wouldn't hurt so much, and maybe they’d have help to hunt, having food that hasn't rotted in the hot heat. Most importantly, Lucy Gray would have someone she could trust around her family. Trust was crucial to her. She always thought if she couldn't trust someone, they might as well be dead to her.

They were between an exchange with a vendor, and a whistle from behind caught their attention. They turn back to see a group of men led by a man with his blonde hair tied back. It was Jesse Evans and his gang, definitely looking for trouble. If he was looking for something else, he wasn't getting it from Lucy Gray anymore.

“Gentlemen, can we help you?” Lucy Gray asked, adding a bit of attitude with a first word, crossing her arms.

“That's a pretty dress on you.” Jesse said, referring to her mama’s rainbow dress, “You’re Billy’s girl now, aren't you?”

“What’s it to you?” Lucy Gray didn't have time for this. William would be here any minute, and they were to disappear from Lincoln forever.

Jesse kept walking closer to her, nearly getting in her face. “What did you do then? Wrap those skinny little legs around him? That poor kid loves so easily that he probably didn't care for what you and I did.” His hands start traveling to touch Lucy Gray, which she aggressively pulls back.

“Get your hands off me right now, or I swear I will get a snake and shove it right up your-” Jesse yanked her by the arm roughly before Lucy Gray finished her threat.

“How about you come with us, birdy?” He asked, but clearly, it wasn't her choice.

Hearing these words made her family jump. Maude Ivory immediately started to screech for her older cousin, and Clerk Carmine, trying to be a brave boy, rushed to tell the grown men to leave Lucy Gray alone, but the older two held them back, seeing how armed these men were.

“It's alright, It's gonna be okay.” She assured her family, “I'm going to be okay.”

Poor Maude Ivory was trying to escape Barb Azure's grasp, wanting to go with Lucy Gray. Before she could, the gang roughly separated them. Two of them pulled their guns to make sure nobody made a move.

“Don’t hurt them!” Lucy Gray pleaded, “I’ll go with you, just don't hurt my family.” From the words that travel through town, these men will annihilate anyone who crosses their line.

“Don't worry, little birdy, you don't owe us anything. We ain't hurting anybody.” Maybe the Covey doesn't owe them anything, but they'll surely think they have the right to take whatever they want from Lucy Gray.

The Covey could only watch as Jesse aggressively forced Lucy Gray onto his horse and took her away, not knowing if she was going to return or not. What would they do? They couldn't just leave her. She's family, and they don't leave each other behind. They had to wait for William to come and tell him. He's the only one with the capability to protect her.

Next thing Lucy Gray knew, she was shoved down to the floor of an old wooden house. She presumed this was the gang’s hideout. Her mama’s poor dress was scrapped on the wood, scruffed by the dirt and grime of shoes coming in and out. Fearfully, she pushes herself back, wanting to put as much distance as possible between herself and Jesse. She looked around to see anything she could defend herself with, only to see a discarded mug. She threw it at Jesse's feet. He chuckled at her pathetic effort to fight back, dodging the mug.

“I told you already, I ain't gonna hurt you.” Jesse put his hands up, away from his gun holster. “I just need you to do something for me.” Lucy Gray shook her head, assuming what he wanted was between her legs again, “Not that. You're Billy’s girl now, so I'm not hurting you.”

“What do you want, then?”

“Well…” Jesse looks back at the rest of the boys, then back at her, “We were wondering if you could…put on a little show for us.”

“You want me to sing for you?” Lucy Gray asked, with disdain underlying her voice.

Jesse only nods, keeping his hand on his gun in its holster. He was only using it to scare her, but she was not taking any chances. Lucy Gray continued to push herself back slowly, away from the gang, scuffing her dress more with dirt. She took a deep breath, expecting her voice to come out as strong as usual, but much to her disappointment, it was shaky.

You’re headed for heaven,

The sweet old hereafter,

And I’ve got one foot in the door.

But before I can fly up,

I’ve loose ends to tie up,

Right here in

The old therebefore.

I’ll be along

When I’ve finished my song,

When I’ve shut down the band,

When I’ve played out my hand,

When I’ve paid all my debts,

When I have no regrets,

Right here in

The old therebefore,

When nothing

Is left anymore.

She soon felt the wall of the cabin hit her back. She couldn't put any more room between them. While she sang, she couldn't help but visualize the creatures she charms with her singing. Snakes, her beloved animal, were enchanted by the sound of the songbird as they slithered slowly to her feet.

I’ll catch you up

When I’ve emptied my cup,

When I’ve worn out my friends,

When I’ve burned out both ends,

When I’ve cried all my tears,

When I’ve conquered my fears,

Right here in

The old therebefore,

When nothing

Is left anymore.

I’ll bring the news

When I’ve danced off my shoes,

When my body’s closed down,

When my boat’s run aground,

When I’ve tallied the score,

And I’m flat on the floor,

Right here in

The old therebefore,

When nothing

Is left anymore

The snakes soon glided onto her rainbow skirt, their scales traveling through her ruffles yet not attacking. It was slowly becoming suffocating. She was used to holding one or two. This time, it was hundreds. That's how it felt singing in front of the gang. Their eyes on her, as her trembling voice escaped her throat, were taking her breath away. She had to keep singing to keep them docile.

When I’m pure like a dove,

When I’ve learned how to love,

Right here in

The old therebefore,

When nothing

Is left anymore.

Her imagination was snapped back into reality when the sound of a gunshot followed by a window breaking made Lucy Gray cover her head, the rest of her body falling to the floor.

“Jesse!” A voice from outside the cabin yells, making the gang peep outside. Lucy Gray had uncovered her eyes just enough to see someone raise their shotgun in the direction of the voice before another gunshot was accompanied by the shotgun holder falling to the ground, holding onto his arm. She yelped as she was roughly pulled from the floor and dragged outside.

“Hold on, Billy!” Jesse's voice boomed into Lucy Gray’s ear, making her lean to the opposite side, attempting to protect her hearing. Someone behind her had taken hold of her hair and pulled her head up, making her look forward. “We weren’t doing anything. The little birdy is fine. She was giving us a little show.” There was William, mounted on his white stallion.

“Let her go, Jesse,” William said in a stone-cold matter, not looking for any arguments.

“Billy, you doing all of this for her?” Jesse asked mistakenly. William released another bullet from his handgun, making another man fall while grabbing onto his leg. Lucy Gray jumped at the sound but froze as a cold metal barrel landed on her temple. The rest of the gang raises their shotguns towards William, but Jesse quickly turns them down. “I said, hold on!”

“Now, Jesse. I’m not telling you again.”

Lucy Gray was wondering if William had gone mad. There was one of him and more than 10 of them. If she had to gamble on who was surviving this, she wouldn’t put any of her money on him and herself.

Jesse had looked at his two injured boys on the ground, assessing what he should do. He knew William’s abilities as a gunslinger better than Lucy Gray did. He knew somehow, someway, William would end up unscathed no matter how outnumbered he was. Jesse still had nothing to say until the threatening sound of William’s gun cocking back, preparing for another bullet to hit someone else. Perhaps it was going to be him. Jesse exhaled shortly, not wanting to find out, “Let her go, Beckwith.”

Upon hearing that, Lucy Gray felt the hold on your hair loosen, making her wince, and the metal barrel against her temple drop. Not wasting another second, she rushes to William and grabs his offered hand. He pulls her up onto his horse, sitting her behind him. Lucy Gray wrapped her arms around William’s waist as he spoke, “We’re leaving, Jesse. We’re leaving Lincoln, and if you follow us, I won’t hesitate next time. We both know we don’t want that.” There was never personal conflict between William and Jesse, which saved them from murdering each other, but this time was different. Jesse had his oldest friend to lose, while William had the woman he’d fallen in love with to lose. They both knew what was going to happen. With one more look between them, William clicks his tongue, signaling his horse to turn around and gallop away from the scene.

When Lucy Gray made her somewhat safe return to the Covey, they decided to keep their departure for the next day. Night fell, and sleep took over the city, except for two who stayed awake. The lodge’s doors opened as Lucy Gray escaped to the outside, seeing William sitting on the steps. She sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

He took hold of her hand, caressing it with his thumb, “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay. I wouldn’t say the same about everyone else. C.C. hugged me, and he wouldn’t let go, even though I told him he should get some sleep. I had to sing to Maude Ivory for over half an hour cause she was too scared. She said she didn’t want me to go away again. Tam Amber, Barb Azure, and I…” She paused, “We’re gonna hold them tighter tonight.”

William doesn’t speak for a moment, looking down at their laps, seeing dirt-riddled ruffles, “Sorry about your dress.”

“It’s alright, nothing a washboard and soap can’t fix. Besides, I think my mama went through worse wearing it.” Lucy Gray lifts her head from William’s shoulder, “Thank you for coming to get me. That means a lot to me and my family.”

“I couldn’t let you die. I promised you that we’d go, and I had to keep it no matter what I had to do.”

“Well, now that you saved me, I have to save you.”

“You already have.”

“How do you mean?”

“You saved me, Lucy Gray, from a lifetime of running and being chased by the law wherever I go. I promised you I’d give up my gun, and I’ll do it if that’s what you want.”

“I prefer you don’t, but you have to promise me you won’t use it unless you have to.”

William nods, “I promise.”

Lucy Gray gave him a small smile, “I guess this means we’re responsible for each other’s lives now since you saved me and I saved you.” He only returned the smile and said nothing else. They sat in silence for a few minutes before standing up.

“We’ll see you tomorrow.” Lucy Gray said, taking a step to go inside the lodge. Before she could, William gently pushed her against a post. His hand reached up to touch her face, then ran it down her hair, smoothing the curled ends with the pads of his fingers.

“I meant what I said the other day,” William whispered against Lucy Gray’s lips, “I love you.” She barely returned the phrase before the space between them shrank, their lips crashing against each other.

The morning after, it was time to leave Lincoln behind and move on to the next town. This time, there was one more person in their family. William had many names throughout his life: Billy McCarty, Billy Antrim, Kid Antrim, William H Bonney, and Billy The Kid. It wouldn’t hurt to add one more to the list, Billy Snow, to fit the tradition of his new family.

The Covey were outside the lodge, waiting on their new family member. It was soon they heard the galloping of horseshoes. “You all ready to go?” William said as he neared them.

“Yes, we are.” Lucy Gray looked down at her little cousin, who was next to her, “You wanna get on?” She asked as she wrapped the dark orange scarf William had gifted her around her shoulders. Maude Ivory nodded excitedly, then grabbed William’s hand, helping her get on the horse.

“Does this mean I can sing my song?” Maude Ivory asked as she mounted onto the horse. She took a deep breath to begin until Clerk Carmine interrupted with a loud ‘No.’ She stuck his tongue out at him, which he returned to her.

With Tam Amber leading the group, William shouts at him, “Do you have a place in mind where we’re heading?”

“Nope.” Tam Amber says.

“So, we’re gonna walk until we find a city?”

“Like I said, sweetheart,” Lucy Gray interjects, “We go wherever the fancy takes us.”

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #billy the kid #william h bonney #lucy gray baird #lucy gray x billy the kid #billy the kid x lucy gray #rachel zegler!lucy gray #tom blyth!billy the kid

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damagdsnow · 1 year ago

Text

Fix my reputation

Pairing: young!Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: You and Coryo are together for mutual benefits, he needs a well known woman by his side to look vulnerable and loving during the presidential elections and you need your reputation to be fixed after your unforgivable scandal.

Tag: fake dating, slow burn, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, manipulative/soft Snow, strong and independent reader (as she should), fluff, angst, power play, smut, fingering, thigh riding, switching sub/dom, degradation, denied orgasm, piv, dirty talk, overstimulation, oral (fem/male receiving), praise

Chapter 1, chapter 2;

aesthetic chapter one, aesthetic chapter two;

Tw: Snow being Snow, mention of alcohol, panic/anxiety attack, mention of blood, mention of parent death, physical aggression (not detailed and not from Snow)

Word count: 11.3k

note: before reading this I recommend you to read the first chapter here. Also, thank you so much for all the love and support on chapter one I didn’t expect all of this, I love you guys ❤️

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

The first time you had met Coriolanus was when Dr. Gaul had announced he was going to be her apprentice Gamemaker during the next Hunger Games.

At that time, you got a job as a health advisor, essentially you monitored tributes' vital signs and whether they were injured, you formulated unique medicine so mentors and sponsors could help their favorites heal faster and be a step ahead of the others. You were used to stitch wounds, examining patients, making prescriptions. This was a whole new thing to you. Dr. Gaul said to you that you were one of the most qualified doctors in that department, this is the reason why she pressured you to ‘amaze’ her.

”When I read your qualifications I was shocked to learn you were looking for employment,” was the first thing Dr. Gaul said to you when she requested to meet you.

You were in her laboratory, a bright room filled with gruesome creatures, dead and alive. She was standing in front of you, with her voluminous curly hair and her reddish long tunic, while she was feeding some sorta of genetically modified fish.

“I was looking for some thrilling experience,” you started fidgeting your fingers, “making me useful for the good of Panem.”

You practiced saying these words many times before meeting her, what were you supposed to say? That you desperately needed a job? That as soon as you found another position you would quit immediately?

”Your idea to formulate a drug that would help tributes in the arena?” With a long tweezer she dropped a pink cube in the small pool, ”so original,” she smiled while feeding the fishes with more cubes.

“You know what it means right? The games will last longer, people spending money on their helpless and injured tributes, mentors fighting to get the best sponsor,” she continued, her icy eyes were staring at you, “this is going to revolutionise the games.”

“I’m glad you liked my proposal,” you looked down, wondering if it was better to make eye contact with her or watch those horrific creatures with long fangs and thorny tails.

“Liked? I absolutely adore your way of thinking,” she put the tweezer back on a metal tray. “No one was able to surprise me since–” she paused and you looked back at her, ”do you know Coriolanus Snow? You two would get along well.”

At that time you wondered who he could be. Coriolanus Snow? His name sounded familiar to you. Only when Dr. Gaul introduced him to the department as an apprentice, you recognised his face.

You both graduated from the Academy, he was just a year older than you, and during the tenth annual Hunger Games his name was popular amongst students. Even though you went to the same school, you had never talked to him. Until a couple of months before the reaping, Dr. Gaul let you and other members work in her lab to do research. Of course he was there too, and chance had it that you were paired up with Coriolanus, sharing the same desk in the library section.

You could see him sitting opposite to you, his side was impressively tidy, just a black leather notepad and a book. Your half was full of microbiology volumes, agar plates and creased post-it. Coriolanus was too focused on his writing that he never gazed over you, on the other hand you were distracted by his presence. You remembered him differently in the Academy, his hair was slightly longer than before, his facial features were more defined, but the same cold aura surrounded him.

You felt kinda intimidated by him.

You’ve heard colleagues saying how brilliant he was: he won the Plinth prize in his senior year, he graduated with honors at advanced military strategies and he now had a high position as the right hand man of the pretentious Head Gamemaker.

He intrigued you.

You thought you were not the smartest person in the room. There was something in him, probably his confident behaviour while he was writing on his notebook, as if he was superior to you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, you thought of ways to start a conversation, not a small talk, but something smart to impress him.

Your heart was beating fast and you finally figured what to say, “Mr. Snow I found a better technique for–“

“What makes you think you can talk to me?” He cut you off while still writing in his notebook.

His words stunned you. The conversation you imagined in your head was now gone, what could you say at this point? “I just wanted–” you stuttered

“Don’t bother, I don’t want to know.”

Your admiration for him slowly faded each day. The way he corrected you every time you had a proposal, pointing out your mistakes in front of everyone, or when he made you work till night in the laboratory to perfectionate your research. You tolerated that, you were used to hard work and mean teachers in your university years, but sometimes he didn’t even show the slightest remorse on things he would say about the districts. About you, indirectly.

Every year on reaping day you thought that it could have been you. Your name in that little piece of paper, read out loud changing your destiny. If it wasn’t for your father’s role in the Dark Days, you could have been in that arena yourself, instead of having the privilege to control tributes’ lives in a cozy chair.

Your dad was an engineer, more a genius mastermind who designed and built high tech weapons. Specifically incendiary bombs, which were crucial to stop the rebels from invading the Capitol during the last year of the war. The project was so successful that he obtained an honorary medal from President Ravenstill himself. He was able to buy a place in the Capitol, for the only purpose to give you and your sister a better future, and you actually lived in luxury compared to your old life back in the districts. However, your father did not side with the president’s political view, still he had to conform to it or he would probably be considered a rebel.

He played the game, to stay alive. Until he was not part of that show anymore.

“I only did it for you and Darla, I don’t care about heavens or hell. As long as my family is safe, I regret nothing of the atrocities I’ve done,” were the words your father wrote to you in a letter, before being killed.

They had never been clear about the dynamics of his homicide, but you were sure it was not an incident as someone would say. The Capitol killed him, they took your dad away from you, the only person you admired, that never let you down.

Your blood was from the districts, even if you’ve lived all your life in the Capitol, you couldn’t change your origins. Coriolanus reminded you of that, with his despicable comments about how ‘horrible and disgusting’ the people from the districts were. As if you didn’t exist to him, you were not a person from his perspective. But he did not know that, no one knew you were not from the Capitol, it was only written on your official documents.

“The games are meant to remind us all who we truly are,” was something Coriolanus often said, bullshit you thought, for you the Games were an insult to humanity and civilisation, cruel entertainment for empty people.

Coriolanus Snow, such a brilliant mind but wicked thoughts.

At the same time, you were not better than him. You worked for the Head Gamemaker and indirectly supported the unnatural destiny of those children. It was easier blaming the government, the bad guys, than admitting to be part of the corrupted system you truly despised. Your excuse was that you had no choice, and partially it was true, but can money win over your beliefs? Were you so desperate to bend your morality just not to be jobless and not respectable? You were acting as your father: were you a fighter or survivor?

Little did you know that your worst nightmares were going to haunt you soon. After the incident you were unemployed, with a bad reputation and with a man you hated.

Check, check, check.

You woke up at lunch time for the third day in a row, it was like being a child again. But there wasn’t your mom taking care of you, your dad making your favorite dish or your big sister spoiling you with presents. You couldn’t ignore your responsibilities and let the adults do the big things for you. You were the adult now, but if you kept self destroying your life this way, it was like everything you’ve done vanished away. Giving up was not an option, or to put things clear, it was the easier possibility amongst the other challenging beginnings.

One of these included him.

Coriolanus was not a beginning, he was more like someone you bump into when you are in a rush, someone who wasn’t supposed to be there but that let you miss the train, made you change your destination. However, the end of the journey was a mystery, with him nothing was clear from the start.

The gala was proof that you couldn’t handle that world, it felt like everything you did made your situation in a much worse position. If it wasn’t for Coriolanus, you would’ve busted into tears on live tv, he was used to that world, lying so naturally that he convinced them.

Cameras, flashes, interviews. Not exactly what you have been preparing for all your life.

You didn’t want to remember what happened that night. Your mind replayed memories as if it was a film, but you were trying to stop it. The dancing? The photographers?

No, the kiss.

The thought of his hands on your skin, his hair on your hands, his lips against yours. The more you pushed that image away, the less it faded from your mind. How could you let him do something like that? You knew that letting him in again would only bring more chaos into your life, but at the same time, you needed to fix your mess and he was your solution.

Also, you didn’t want to acknowledge that all the attention was something you needed. Not the bad press, the misleading articles and intrusive photographers. It was the care for you, the way he defended you, the warmth you didn’t feel in a long time. You knew it was fake, just a facade, but that pretending was healing an empty spot you have been hiding for ages.

When you checked your mail, you recognised the reddish envelope. It was from Snow manor.

"Be ready at 7 pm, someone is going to pick you up.’ signed by Iris Davebonn.

Of course it was not over.

He had a plan, and he didn’t give up easily. You also had a plan, he was not the only one with something to prove, but was he the only way out to your hell? Or was he another villain in your tragedy? You had nothing to lose but everything to gain.

Coriolanus is the forbidden apple, the fruit I shall never be tempted to desire.

You opened the fridge, still sleepy but hungry. For your breakfast you had a couple of options: water and rotten eggs or rotten eggs and water. So as always you decided to steal from your neighbor’s tangerines tree, you could easily pick the fruits from your window, the advantages of living on the first floor. You knew that the old lady next door noticed your thefts, but she hated you either way so at least you gave her a reason to. Since you didn’t have a monthly paycheck anymore, you had to live with your remaining savings, but soon you were left with nothing with bills and rent to pay.

Actually, Dr. Gaul never fired you, she wasn’t as upset as Capitol people, she even congratulated you because this way The Hunger Games were discussed more on tv and newspapers. For her, the incident was a perfect strategy to make the Games popular. She even thought you did that intentionally, because in her distorted view,”it was funny seeing their faces when for the first time, a 12 years old boy from district eleven won”. Against all odds, the unknown tribute without sponsors and hope to make it alive, won the games because “I killed everybody else.”

Not as funny as she thought.

Eventually, you couldn't handle the pressure anymore and you quit. The last time you saw her she persuaded you to be by her side the next year, “if you did that by accident, I wonder what you could do purposely.” You never considered that offer, you didn’t have to work there in the first place. If only you could go back, maybe… Maybe, everything would’ve gone differently.

The world fell apart when you heard the sound of cannon in that room. Everybody was cheering for that girl from district two, the favorite, the one that won Capitol’s heart during the interviews. The lovely Rea, the brave tribute that was bit by an horrific dog. That creature cannot be defined as a ‘dog’, more like a venomous lion with a crocodile mouth. Your role was to make a medicine that could heal her wound. Sponsors asked it, her mentor was willing to pay whatever price to save her, the Capitol was betting every penny on her.

The pressure was such that you mistakenly switched two drugs and gave her the other for the boy from District three. Fatal mistake.

You were their only hope but you became the death of them.

Relying on somebody else was the last thing you wanted, especially if it was Coriolanus Snow. You didn’t want to need him. But there you go, on your way to his house. Again.

An avox opened the door for you and silently you followed her to the living room. Iris and Coriolanus were both standing near a star shaped glass table surrounded by small couches, you wondered what their conversation was about because they stopped talking the moment you walked in.

“Speaking of the devil,” Coriolanus said looking at you, he was wearing a white shirt and black pants, his hair was messy as if he woke up a couple of minutes ago.

”There she is,” Iris stepped towards you, opening her arms, “the new star of Panem,” she hugged you like you were an old friend she hadn’t seen in a while, it didn’t feel as awkward as you thought, it felt sincere.

”I think you meant a fallen star,” you laughed hugging her back.

”Honey, the gala was a success!” She said with a warm smile.

You perceived his blue eyes gazing at you, the same look he gave you when you were walking with him arm by arm at the gala.

Why is he staring? Am I wearing something inappropriate? Or is it just the indecipherable look he always has?

“Did you read the newspaper?” Iris pointed at the glass table in front of you but you were distracted by a bowl full of pastries to even pay attention to her.

You leaned forward to read the page but your sight was too blurry. The tangerines were the only thing you ate since this morning, not really an energetic meal. You sat on the small couch and you put the newspaper close to your face, nose almost touching the page, squinting to have a better view.

“Are you blind?” Coriolanus said with an annoyed tone, he tore away the paper from your hands.

”I don’t have my glasses with me,” you lied, you have never worn glasses in your entire life.

You rubbed your temples trying to see clearly again and you swiftly took what seemed to be a pink cookie from the tray on the table. What flavour was that? You tried to make a straight face while chewing that sugary stuff, at least your body was eating something.

“To make things short— they think we are the couple of the moment,” Coriolanus started while reading the page, “that everybody was shocked— bla bla,” he rapidly said, “oh and they mentioned my name four times!”

“No, Mr. Snow, if you have to do something you have to do it right,” Iris intervened, taking the newspaper from his hands.

She sat down on the couch near yours and started reciting the article, reading word by word.

“Is love in the air? In Capitol City probably is.” She read the first line,“what a great title isn’t it?” Iris commented

“Go on or we are going to stay here all night,” Coriolanus said.

You looked at him, he was standing up making you feel inferior, like a shadow looming over you.

“After the unsettling events happened in the last Hunger Games, there is finally some hope in our community. The aspiring president Coriolanus Snow showed up with someone not-so-new in the latest gala before the presidential campaign.”

“ ‘not so new’ so kind of them—” you said and he shushed you. How dare he?

“She studied medicine and has worked with the Head Gamemaker for the past year. Rumor has it that for some kind of incident, she was the cause of the premature death of two tributes.”

Iris took a breath. “Unexpectedly, last night Coriolanus proudly walked with her for the very first time in public. Both dressed in white, representing the noble Snow name, they conquered the attention of the media and the crowd. Are they the couple of the moment?” She smiled while looking at you, “the best part is about to come.”

“If we are basing the answers on the way they look at each other, they definitely stole our hearts. We are looking forward to seeing how this unexpected love will grow.”

You laughed, that was too corny for you, was it possible that they truly believed that little show you made?

”Will Coriolanus Snow win the election the same way he won her heart? Right now we are in love with both of them.” Iris finished.

“Did they really write an article about our possible love story?” You took another cookie, green this time, “they really are bored people.”

”You should be happy they didn’t talk about what happened in the arena,” Coriolanus said but you couldn’t see him, he was standing behind you.

“Well, they mentioned it anyway,” you said while chewing that lemon pastry, or was it mint? For a moment you thought it was better starving than eating whatever thing it was.

”Thanks to me they probably will give you a chance,” he said.

”The tone they used– it was like they think you are doing charity by being with me.”

“Well it kinda is–”

”Oh shut up,” you stand up, turning to him, “your name has never been this many times in a newspaper.” You were close to him, and even if you were not sitting anymore, you felt small standing there facing him.

His eyes were still examining you, as if you were a book written in a language he couldn’t read.

“You two look like siblings fighting over meaningless things,” Iris said, stepping in, getting in the middle of you.

“See? Even Iris thinks you are being overly dramatic.”

You fought the urge to answer back, did he just call you over-dramatic?

“Honey, look who's talking,” Iris said pointing a finger at him, “you are not really easy to work with,” then she turned over to you, “in just one day people fell for your fairytale, imagine what you can do in a month.”

“Do you really think this can work?” You avoided looking at him behind her shoulder.

“They don’t care about what you did, you are just another distraction from their empty life,” she explained to you, “they need something else to talk about.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, there are more important things,” Coriolanus said, “such as the presidential elections.”

”Is there something else you can say instead of politics and fame?”

”What do you want me to tell you? My sad story about when I mixed some drugs in the laboratory?” He stepped closer, ”oh no, that is something you always talk about.”

”I liked you better when you ignored me,” you said remembering the first time you tried to have a conversation with him.

“Stop please,” Iris said, “you two should bond more, this atmosphere is making me wanna retire early,” she touched her hair, orange this time, “maybe you will like each other.” She walked away from your sight.

“It's going to be tiring enough pretending to like him in public,” now there was just the glass table separating you from him.

“So this is a yes, you are going to do this,” his face lightened up.

“It seems this charade it’s working,” you said convincing yourself that was your best chance of getting your reputation back.

Did you just sign a pact with the devil?

He is the forbidden apple. But it doesn’t mean I can’t just play with it.

“Before I forget,” you heard Iris voice coming from the door entrance, “next week dinner with the Holdens and Suncots,” she was putting her yellow coat on, “they gladly accepted the invite here,” then she put her gloves on, “see you tomorrow—oh and try to bond you two,” she pointed a finger at him before closing the door and leaving you alone with Coriolanus.

You looked at the clock above the coat hanger and it was getting late, but you had nowhere else to be at that moment. No one waiting for you at home, no one expecting your call, nothing to do the next day.

“Tigris is going to design another dress for you,” he said referring to the dinner.

“Can’t I just wear something I already have?” The thought of him deciding what color and style your dress had was not something you tolerated.

“Of course not— do you dine here or?” That didn’t sound like an invite, more as if he was suggesting you go home.

“So kind, I’ll pass,” you said with a sarcastic tone.

”I asked because you almost devoured the entire jar of pastries.” He smiled, waiting for your reaction.

”For the record, they are tasteless.”

He rolled his eyes, “the car is waiting for you outside,” he turned his back and walked towards the kitchen.

”I can walk, I don’t need your personal driver,”

Your words stopped him right in his tracks, ”what if you get lost? How could I do without you?” He said jokingly, turning over to see you, “and it’s fifteen minutes away, in the dark— don’t be a child and go by car, you’ll get used to it.”

You didn’t answer, not like you had something to say. Of course you would’ve accepted the ride, your apartment was too far from his house, you just wanted to irritate him. Maybe you were not so different from Coriolanus, you were playing the same game.

Car rides make you recall only good memories. Your dad got a car when you were little, it was gray and smaller than this one, and he used to drive you to school everyday. Until you got into university and you moved to your current house, it was ten minutes from university so you got used to walking.

The engine stopped and you stepped out of the car, it was cold outside and you wished you had heating at home, a luxury you couldn’t afford anymore.

You fumbled with the keys trying to open the door, you were freezing and you rushed because you heard some steps. You didn’t want to have a conversation with your neighbor, she’ll probably just scold you about the stolen tangerines and how loud you shut the door when you go out, the old same story. You finally walked inside but someone blocked you from closing the door. It was a young man, probably in his thirties, he had a tiny recorder on his hand and you immediately clicked.

“Hi, I’m from Capitol’s People Magazine, I wanted to ask you some questions about your relationship with Coriolanus Snow,” he said pointing you to the black device.

”I’m sorry— for interviews, talk to my manager,” you said with a kind tone.

Iris suggested that every time journalists asked you questions you did not want to answer, you had to say those words, and now was the case. You slowly closed the door but the man put his feet in between.

”How could the heir of one of the most influential figures be with a corrupted woman like you?” He looked at you with eyes full of anger.

Corrupted woman, this was new to you. What was the correct answer to that?

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled while trying to close the door by pushing it against his feet but he was not intending to leave you alone.

He aggressively tried to wedge his foot into the door, forcing it to stay open while he continued to badger you with invasive questions about the gala.

”Are you planning on ruining his image while stealing his money?” He reached your arm and grabbed it.

“What’s wrong with you?” His grip was getting tighter as you tried shoving him.

He was strong enough to smash the door open, stepping inside your house. With his hand on your wrist, he roughly pushed your body against the wall, your back facing him as he stood behind you, your heart pounding outside your chest.

“You are just a crazy bitch,” he whispered, “you think you can fool them but are a disgrace for Panem,” he pushed your head against the wall, one side of your face hitting the coarse plaster making your skin burn.

“Get off me! ” you shouted, struggling against his grip.

In response he hit your head again against the wall. You squinted your eyes in pain as a tear streamed down your face, you felt powerless, everything happened so fast.

“Tell me what you want from me,” you said with a weak voice.

“After all you did, you should shut the fuck up and do what you are asked to do,” he put his hand on your scalp as he pushed you harder against the wall.

You screamed like you never did in your entire life, someone had to hear your cry for help, right? But he was quick to cover your mouth with his palm and that was the perfect occasion for you to bite his skin. He kept his hand on your mouth while he choked on his own screams.

Your muffled howl echoed in the room but no one seemed to hear you. Or so you thought. Someone grabbed the man from his collar and pushed him away from you. It was the driver, his tall figure was now beant down to beat that man. You were paralyzed, now your back was against the wall and your lungs finally breathing, but your body was unable to answer your brain’s orders.

”Run!” The driver screamed at you while punching the man one more time, “go in the car! Run!”

You ran towards the car but your legs felt weak and your head too heavy. You opened the car door and you laid down in the back seats. What the hell just happened?

What if he came back? What if next time there is not someone to save you? Your anxiety grew inside your chest and you kept yourself from crying.

“Are you okay, Miss?” The driver asked breathlessly as he violently closed the front car door with a rush, “should I take you to the hospital?” He was looking at you, he had an old scar on his cheek that you didn’t notice before.

You shook your head, “I just need water” you mouthed, trying to maintain a regular breathing.

“Thank you for saving me,” you whispered.

You looked at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes reflecting the street lights while he was driving as if nothing happened, as if his bloody knuckles on the steering wheel were not hurting.

After minutes that seemed hours he talked, “It is my duty,” he said, “Mr. Snow wouldn’t have forgiven me.”

Coriolanus was in his study preparing a speech for the next interview, he had to be careful to pick the perfect words, to speak with the right tone, and to make the adequate facial expressions. Nothing was left to case. Every single action had to be meticulously studied and calculated.

It was his specialty. Playing with words and making people fall in love with his charm. He did it naturally, molding people the shape he wanted. Because he had to have everything under his control, his power, his eyes.

For the first time he was struggling. He was stuck on the opening line and he didn’t know how to continue. Sleepless nights and alcohol were the usual in the past week. This was one of the nights. Locked in his study until he wrote something of that speech, depriving himself from sleep.

Coriolanus was walking around the room, fidgeting with a pen on his long fingers. Until his mind-wandering was stopped by a firm knock on the door, annoyed it could be an Avox, he ignored it. But the knocking didn’t stop.

He let out a sigh as he unlocked the doorknob, “how many times do I have to tell–” to his surprise, the driver showed up at his door, “Virma, what are you doing here?”

Coriolanus soon found the answer to his question by looking over the driver’ shoulder. You were hidden behind his back, like a hurt animal scared of its fate. You didn’t want to come here, like a lost child brought back home. But where were you supposed to be? What place instead of his?

Your ruffled hair, your smeared makeup and your empty look. It didn’t take long for him to understand something happened. A sense of anger grew inside of him. This was not written in a script, it was not meant to happen and when things did not go according to plan, Coriolanus lost his composure, he could have been unpredictable.

His face darkened. He grabbed your arm and he dragged you in his study, along with Virma. You felt his hand on your wrist, his touch was something familiar to you, maybe gentle, as if he was actually worried about you. He pushed Virma to the side and closed the door behind him, casting you both in the dim light of his opulent study.

You were now facing him, his expression was different from an hour ago. His hand traveled to your face, his fingers lifting your chin as he leaned to have a better view of you. The left side of your face was scraped, fresh cuts burned on your temple as droplets of blood trailed your skin. Coriolanus traced his fingertips on your bruised skin and you flinched, instantly regretting the movement as a flash of pain shot through your head, but he was not rough like that man. He loosened his grip on your arm, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of your injuries. He was delicate, as if he was touching something fragile.

You were too focused on his expression to even pay attention to your sore skin. His knitted brows, his parted lips and his concerned look.

“Who did this to you?” His voice barely above a whisper, he glared down at you as he inspected your figure, as if he was looking for other scratches he missed.

You could almost feel the tension radiating from him.

His hand was now on your neck, fingers touching the back of your head, “a journalist, I don’t–” you looked down, “he was asking questions but I–"

“Mr. Snow, I think I know who he is ,” the driver said and for a moment you forgot he was in that room, “he is Lucius Cliffhard' son.”

"Cliffhard' son? The father is running for president why would he–” Coriolanus didn’t finish his sentence and he looked back at you, “thank you for your service Virma,” his hand left your neck leaving a warm spot, “we will talk about it later.”

You heard the door closing and now you were left alone with him. You could barely stand up, your adrenaline was leaving your body and your anxiety was taking its place.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he walked towards the opposite side of the room, looking for something in the small bathroom of his study.

You were standing in the shiny black floor, your heart was pounding so loud you could not hear your weak voice, “he probably was waiting for me to come home because the moment I opened the door he uhm—“ you stuttered, "started asking questions but I didn't answer, so he pushed me against the wall and his hand was on my mouth—“ you paused, ”he hit my head and—“ you felt a lump on your throat and you hoped he didn’t hear you.

His steps were again echoing the room, his figure walking closer to you. He had a piece of cotton wool in his hands and without a notice he held it against your scratches by cupping your face with his other hand. It was burning your skin, his fingertips were slightly brushing your neck while he dabbed gently the cotton to clean the wounds on your temple.

”Continue talking,” he said nonchalantly as he tilted your head to have a better view of tour left side of the face.

You stopped breathing in that moment, maybe because of the nauseating smell of the disinfectant or maybe it was because he was inches away from you, his focused look on the bleeding cut, “I think he just wanted to scare me,” you managed to say in a steady tone.

The blonde snapped his head at you, his blue eyes now on yours, “he is a psychopath,” his scent reminded you of that night at the gala, “he hit you because you didn't want to be interviewed, he could've killed you."

You reached his hand where he was pressing the cotton wool and for a moment your fingers brushed before he removed his hands from your skin. “you are exaggerating– he just needs help, ” you said.

Coriolanus closed his eyes, he clenched his fists and the knuckles turned white. He walked towards the desk and he poured himself a drink, taking a long burning sip. You watched him in silence as you inspected the reddish cotton on your hands.

“Do you trust him so much you want to come back to your house?” He was behind his desk, arms resting above the chair, “I told you, here you could have been safer from the media,” he raised his voice, “but you are stubborn, you risked your life and– if it wasn’t for Virma who knows what could have happened,” he said nervously while pouring himself a drink.

“So now it’s my fault?” You bawled at him.

“You don’t understand that now whatever happens to you affects me,” he said, “what are they going to say when they see your bruises and god forbid— he writes an article saying who knows what lies of what happened.”

“See? You don’t care about my safety, you only care about what they think,” you stepped closer to him because he wasn’t even looking at you, “you want me as your puppet, so you can have me under your control— your house, your peacekeepers, your scripts— it’s all part of your plan,” you said.

”You are free to go back to your pathetic life if that’s what you want," he took a sip of his drink, still looking down, “I can’t save you from yourself, after all– you were miserable before and now too,” it was like venom coming from his lips.

A tear streamed down your face, “this is what I hate about you,” you scoffed, “you are a selfish and heartless man, I was right from the start.”

You have called him only good names: uncaring, unaffectionate, disrespectful, selfish and heartless. The list was getting longer.

“What did you expect? I thought it was going to be easier with you but you are getting on my nerves,” he stood up walking towards you, “you should be grateful— but no, you like acting so superior to me,” his chest was getting closer to you.

You scoffed, “why? Who are you?” You looked up at him through your lashes, “just a rich spoiled kid who is playing at being the next president of Panem.”

“And you fucking need me,” he said against your cheek, “this is why you didn’t leave, you don’t want to admit that without this ‘heartless man’ standing in front of you who knows where you could be right now,” his eyes were consuming you.

”Look who's talking,” you pointed a finger at him, “the Capitol's favorite toy who needs a ‘miserable girl’ to make him popular.”

Coriolanus placed his free hand on your wrist, squeezing it lightly, “you like this am I right?” He licked his lips, “talking back at me, uh?”

His nose was touching yours, his grip was burning your skin and you could feel his hot breath mixing with yours. The blonde was dangerously close to you, but you missed that feeling. Have you already erased what he has said to you? Was he so powerful to make you fall for his spell?

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

His lips brushed yours, memories flooding back to you. You didn’t know if he was about to bite you or kiss you. It would have hurt you either way.

“Tell an Avox to prepare your room,” he said, “or freeze in the streets, I don’t care— your choice.” Coriolanus let your arm go and he walked away from your sight.

It started to be just for show but the backstage was even worse than the real life. At the same time you could not give up on this play, you had to change your rules, your morals, to keep being with him.

So you were alone in the dark in the hallway, thinking about running away or staying.

Coriolanus could not win this way, you hated to admit you still needed his presence to fix your reputation. The darkness seemed to swallow you as you hesitated, torn between your principles and the pull of his influence. He had too much power right now, but you were willing to wait, by making things your own terms.

As you stood there, unwilling to give in to his manipulations, the lingering memory of his touch warred with the sharpness of his words. You slammed the door shut for him to hear you, he would have to do better to get you away from him.

Coriolanus could have touched your face as if you were the rarest creature on earth but the same lips once brushed yours, could tell the most hurtful things to you.

But you did that too. You were both craving the same sin. But too proud to admit on your faces.

“Is everything okay now?” You were in Tigris room, a colorful space barely illuminated by the outside light. It was in the basement, not really a cozy place to work.

You were talking about the aggression that happened a couple of days ago, nothing you wanted to recall actually, especially your conversation with Coriolanus, but you didn’t tell her that.

”Yes, the bruises are healing over,” you answered, touching your temple.

Tigris smiled at you while taking your measurements. She didn’t look like her cousin, apart from the blonde hair, she was pure and kind hearted. Why was an angel like her on earth with people like you? Like him?

“Why are we doing this again?” You asked “Didn’t you already have my measurements?”

You were standing on a stool, only wearing your undergarments while Tigris was putting the tape measure around your chest.

”Coryo sent me a note telling me that last time the dress was a little loose,” that was the last thing you could ever expect to hear from her, because it was in fact true, he noticed that.

“He did what?”

“I know, I was surprised too,” she smiled, “anyway, I read the newspaper.”

Oh no, you didn’t want to talk about that too.

“You two look great in the picture,” she handed you a wrinkled page where you could see a black and white photo of you and Coriolanus at the gala, he was looking at you while holding your waist.

You didn’t know about the existence of that picture until now. That night you were too starved to even pay attention to the newspaper, how could you miss that?

“It was so strange seeing him with a woman,” she commented while looking for some fabric.

“What do you mean? Has he ever had a girlfriend?” You knew the answer to that question but you wanted to hear from her.

“More like ‘girls’ than ‘girlfriends’, ” she laughed, “I’ve never met one of them,” Tigris wrapped a red cloth around your waist.

“Well, not that I’m special,” you looked at the mirror in front of you, “it’s just a stupid show.”

“What a shame,” she folded the excess fabric on your side and put a needle, “I liked you,” Tigris whispered.

You wished you could do something for her, she deserved more than a molded little room and a cousin like Coriolanus.

“So we are seeing each other more often, am I right?” she broke the awkward silence.

“Yes, Iris forced me to stay in this house,” Iris was really in apprehension when she saw your bruises, she lectured you on how people are vicious and in your ‘situation’ it was better not risking more.

“How lucky, aren’t I?” You added.

“I know my cousin can be– difficult to understand but,” she walked behind you, “there are some things that brought him to be this way,” her fingers tighten the fabric on your back, “and of course he’s not a saint, he just needs something– someone perhaps, to make him remember who he really is.”

“I can’t fix him,” you glanced at her reflection in the mirror, “I’m broken as much as he is and– we are incompatible.”

“As the sun and the moon?”

“Maybe.”

The comparison did fit well.

One is the star planets gravitate around, the only source of light at the center of the solar system. The moon is a small satellite whose only purpose is to spin around the earth, showing only one face and depending only on the planet's gravitational field.

Coriolanus wanted to appear like the sun, bright and powerful but he only displayed one face like the moon. You felt small, needing for something to orbit around as the moon did, but you didn’t know how radiant and capable you actually were, exactly like the sun.

Since you moved in his house, nights were longer than the others. It was getting harder to fall asleep because of your intrusive thoughts keeping you awake.

Is the door locked? Am I safe here?

The positive side was that your new room was probably bigger than your whole apartment. Then, you were not freezing anymore and you were finally eating food, not stolen fruit and smelly milk.

Even though you were living in his house, you tried avoiding his presence: by not having lunch the same hour as him, by going out your room only when you heard his door locking or having your usual meetings with Iris before him. That was your way of saying that he could not control your life, especially when he treated you the way he did.

However, that was still his house.

Red silky bed sheets, roses scent, his gold engraved initials on objects.

Coriolanus was not easy to forget. It was as if he had poisoned the air you were breathing, everything reminding you of him. The good and the bad. You promised yourself to not be tempted anymore, he was mercilessly manipulating you into believing he was the person he wanted to appear at the Capitol. But other than his mesmerizing eyes, his golden curls and delicate hands, there was another man hiding in his shadow. You had to picture that side of him every time he teased you, or you could be a sinner.

You were laying on the bed, leafing through the pages of the brand new script it was sent to your room. This was even worse than the other. Not only you had to remember some political matters regarding the current campaign, but you had to pretend again how good of a man Coriolanus was. How he supported and cared for you and how bright your plans as a couple were.

“I was extremely lucky to meet him, he is the sun to my dark days,” what an irony, “I am looking forward to living this exquisite love fully by his side.”

So cheesy for what?

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

You heard a muffled voice coming from the hallway, you walked towards the door but you didn’t answer. It was him of course, after the bad there was the good. He surprisingly tried talking with you on other occasions, but you had walked away before he could even finish his sentence, running away was easier, or god knows what you could’ve done.

“I can hear your heavy breathing,” he said close to the door, “open the door or I will,” he was waiting for your response, thinking about what he could say to get your attention. “Please?” Good manners are always the right answer, right? Right?

You let out a sight as you unlocked the door. Coriolanus was standing close to the room’s entrance, his arm was leaning against the wooden jamb and you noticed he was wearing his coat, as if he was about to go out.

“Oh so you’re alive,” he said, “I was worried about you.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but it didn’t matter either way. Right?

“What do you want?” You were still holding the doorknob, not letting him step inside the room.

“Come with me, we have to go somewhere,” he said with a rush in his tone.

“I kindly refuse your invitation,” you were about to close the door but he put his hand in between. I could squash his fingers, you thought, nothing he could not recover from.

Coriolanus rolled his eyes, “sooner or later you will have to pretend to like me,” his face was partially illuminated by your room light, making his eyes brighter.

You looked at his long fingers keeping the door open, he had his usual shiny ring on his index finger and for a moment you thought you could really squash his hand, “I think it’s better we have less interactions possible apart from the social events.”

“It’s been days since people saw us together, yesterday they asked about you at the debate,” he hissed, “see? Instead of asking about my political project they were– nevermind, just come with me.” His eyes were begging you, such a satisfying image.

“I’m not dressed up, what a pity,” you said mockingly.

He peeked at your figure, “you’re fine.”

You did not feel fine. You weren’t even wearing your clothes, you did not had the chance to pack up your things from your apartment and you had to ask Tigris for some piece of clothing that could fit you. She gave you some of her designs, a green matcha wool skirt matched with a cotton white top. At least you were about to wear pretty clothings, not your old unironed shirts.

“Just for show,” you said while grabbing a jacket.

“Just for show,” he echoed.

You realised that in this game of power and appearances, keeping your distance wasn't an option anymore. You knew that you were now entwined in a dangerous dance with Coriolanus, one that could lead to momentous success or catastrophic ruin. The stakes were high and your mixed feelings towards him could not interfere with your plan, he was not the only manipulator anymore.

“Where is he bringing me?” you asked Virma after fifteen minutes of silence in the car. It was better not talking directly to Coriolanus when possible.

“Miss, isn’t this a date? Enjoy the ride,” the driver said with a smile.

You and Coriolanus laughed. Date? The only date you were looking for was the date this show would end. The car stopped and from the window you immediately recognised the place. It was not a fancy restaurant, a loud club or someone’s wealthy mansion.

First date with Coriolanus Snow at… the Citadel?

That was not what the script said.

You heard the car speeding away as he walked towards the huge grey entry, he unlocked the door and he stepped inside. You stood on the sidewalk, not sure if you wanted to follow him, it was too late to change your mind and too dark to be alone outside.

At least ten peacekeepers were guarding the entrance but Coriolanus walked towards the grey corridor unbothered. The first time you were there, you were searched as if you were a prisoner, as if you could hide a bomb inside your small pockets. This time they did not even consider you, because you both spent months working day and night in that cold laboratory.

The elevator plunged down at least twenty floors, the dark walls were so thick you could strain your vocal chords for hours but no one would hear you. You were standing beside him, waiting for the door to open as soon as possible. The only sound echoing in that place was the loud machinery that was slowly moving down.

“Did you miss this place so much you wanted a guided tour by me?” You asked, breaking the silence, “or is it a surprise party for me?” Five floors left, “tell me now so I put my best smile for the cameras,” you said mockingly, but he didn’t even look at you.

Couldn’t this man laugh for once? So boring.

The elevator doors parted and you finally stepped inside the laboratory. It was an open space divided into three areas. The center was where Dr. Gaul did experiments with animals, occasionally it was also where she did her lectures and exams; one side was the sterile area where the researchers did surgical operations and medical trials where they often experimented with new drugs on genetically modified animals; on the other side, there was the library and research tables, where you mostly spent most of your time studying advanced biotechnology methods.

“How romantic– I guess what people are going to say when I tell them for our first date you took me to see these sweet and lovely creatures,” you said as you looked at the wall glass with dead beasts inside clear yellowish cases.

“You should keep the bar low with me— and I just need to find some documents, you know this laboratory better than me,” he removed his coat and stepped towards the library on the other side of the room.

“You tricked me– you just wanted a favor from me,” your voice echoed and you were not sure he heard you. You walked through the library looking for him.

“I’m in the archives section,” his voice was not far away.

The library was arranged in a circular pattern, as if the bookshelves were layers and in the very core there was a large space with study desks, the ones you had slept on many nights back when you worked there. Soon you found the blonde leaning over a desk while reading some pages in an orange envelope.

“Did you find it?” You asked in an annoyed tone.

“Here there is– this is your file,” he said while standing up.

“My what now?” You walked over him, intended to grab the envelope with the 'confidential' print on the cover.

Coriolanus stepped back, leaning his back on the bookshelf behind him, “given your precedents, I thought it was better to check your past before they did,” he had already read your file a long time ago, but he didn’t tell you that.

He started reading the first page, “you uhm graduated with honors in medicine– bla bla bla first student in your class, —okay here, you specialized in general surg— oh no you did not” he paused, “yet?” Coriolanus looked at you with a puzzled face, suggesting you to say something.

“I will this year,” you looked at your fingers, fidgeting with the ends of your jacket.

“Lie number one, here it says you didn’t pay the tuition,” he pointed at the paper.

Fuck. You couldn’t afford paying for electricity, imagine the university fees, in the most expensive city in Panem. You stuttered something but he continued talking.

“Anyway, you got a place in the Ranvistill Clinic —impressive— and then you mysteriously asked for a transfer after two years, and this is how you got here,” he looked at you, “what happened?”

Was that a tricky question? This conversation was making you uncomfortable. You felt under trial, as if you were accused of crimes, Coriolanus was the judge and you were the only one defending yourself.

“Is this an interview? I didn’t know that apart from being interested in writing scripts you also were a human resource guy,” you tried switching the topic, the conversation was getting too personal.

“Do you have something to hide? I must be prepared for anything they can ask me,” he frowned.

You had many secrets you hoped he didn’t already know, “I changed jobs, that’s it.”

“You failed my test,” he chuckled, “you lied straight to my face in a serious matter –this is lie number two.”

“A test? What the hell Coriolanus.” You sighed as you walked over a desk, sitting on it.

“See? This is why you don’t have my trust.”

The man that cannot be trusted was really talking about trust?

“If you already know every detail of my life, why are you talking with me?”

“Oh, I knew it was going to bother you —anyway no, there’s just something that does not add up.” His eyes went again on that file, hands leafing through pages.

“Which is,” you said with a passive tone.

“Clodius South, head of the surgery department —or I should say, your umh— ex boyfriend?” He closed the folder and put it carelessly on the shelf behind him.

Your heart skipped a bit, “I’m done,” you stood up but he came closer to you.

“Answer just one question, I'm curious– why did he fire you? I mean, officially you transferred but I know it wasn’t voluntary,” he didn’t seem to give up, his look was pleading for answers, “so strange, you had been together for a year.”

“Why are you so interested in my sentimental life? You don’t have a chance with me, you know that right?” You laugh, feeling the tension in the air.

“There is no such risk, I’m not attracted to you,” his figure blocked you from walking away, “I just need your popularity, so I can fix it to something good.”

“You were the one kissing me in the car,” you bit your tongue, that kiss was something you didn’t want to bring up, it was better to forget about it. However, the other option was talking about your past, not something you were proud of.

“Oh please as if you didn’t want to,” he tilted his head, eyes locked on yours.

You laughed at his words, “you wish,” your back leaned against the desk.

“Then why did you kiss me back? I remember you didn’t let me breathe for a moment.”

“That was part of the show, Coriolanus Snow.”

“Now you use my full name? Last time I checked you called me differently,” he rested his arm on the desk you were lying on, making his height the same as yours.

You damned the only time it slipped from your lips calling him Coryo, a nickname you promised yourself to not say ever again.

“Why? Did it turn you on?”

His other hand was near your leg, slowly moving closer to your exposed skin.

“You can’t even imagine,” he swiftly looked down to your lips then back to your eyes.

The room did not feel cold anymore. Your breathing was getting slower, his parted lips warming your skin, his arm grazing your leg.

“So tell me, what happened with him?” Coriolanus insisted, but you had other plans in mind.

He was in power right now, he brought you here just to humiliate you with your deepest secrets. Weren't you just a miserable girl? It was your turn to make him feel miserable.

“You say you’re not attracted to me but you always find an excuse to touch me,” you whispered to his ear, his curls brushing your nose and his hand slightly brushing your leg.

This would have made him back off, telling you how stupid you are to think something like that, gaslighting you about the fact he never did such things like touching you.

“If it bothers you so much why you never push me away,” his hand traveled up to your leg, “go on, I’m waiting,” his fingers were now brushing your thigh and you felt his cold ring against your skin.

Fuck. That was not your plan.

You can always get back to it.

“I know your limits— I bet you barely touched a woman in your life,” you knew it was not true, you only said it as a provocation, to hurt his fragile ego as you planned.

I won.

”I don’t have limits, and we both know you would lose your bet,” his hand went under the hem of your skirt, making you shiver in surprise.

His index finger traced the outline of your panties, slightly playing with the waistband. Coriolanus didn’t break eye contact with you, his pupils were wide, you couldn’t see the blue that usually painted his iris, he was breathing slowly with parted lips, as if he wanted to control his heartbeat. And his hand felt so warm and familiar, so close to your core.

You knew that look, the one that he gave you when he let his guard down. The same look Coriolanus had when you came in his study a couple of days ago, his other side that he rarely showed to anyone.

His palm rested on your bare naked thigh.

“You don’t talk now?” His voice soothed your face, “tell me to stop and I will.”

That was the perfect occasion to slap that smug from his face, but you couldn’t even make up a coherent sentence. His voice was a gentle whisper cutting through the tension, but all you could manage was to stare at his eyes, trying to calculate his next move.

You knew what it was. It was a dangerous game you were playing, one that could shatter your plan. Did you have something to lose? You have already bent your morals, risked your life and crossed lines you never thought you would. Coriolanus would have been another crime to add to your list.

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

But what if I took just a bite? A taste of mortal sin.

“Why did you bring me here?” You managed to say trying to control your breathing.

“You once asked me why did I chose you,” Coriolanus whispered to your ear, “and I told you that it was for the presidential campaign,” his hand moved up again, “publicity, press and interviews— I only care about that,” his fingers were covering your clothed cunt.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your back was still leaning against the desk edge, his other arm on your side. His words were not making things easier for you, not because you were listening to what he actually was saying, but because his tone of voice was something you could only hear in these moments. When he acted good, for the cameras, for the show. But there was no one in that room.

Coriolanus kept talking, “but my point is, why didn't you leave?” His index finger circled around your covered core, “I mean— I could list a few reasons why, considering also how wet you are right now,” he pulled your panties to the side, exposing your wetness. “But you always say you hate me, that you despise me, why are you here then? Are you so desperate?”

Your eyes were closed, your mind wandered prohibited thoughts while his hand was painfully too far away from what your body needed. What could you say to him? That he was right about being so desperate to pretend to be with him, so you could clean your image? That despite his selfish behavior he was tempting you into falling in his game?

Coriolanus brushed your soaked entrance with his fingertips as he massaged your clit with your own wetness. You shamefully spread your legs giving him more access to your folds, his digits that once touched your face were gently rubbing your needy center.

Your silent whimpers were enough as an answer for him to slide one finger inside you.

Your hand was now on his biecep, grabbing his arm so tightly or you could fall. There was something in you that was holding you back from punching him to his face. Was this the charm everyone talked about? Was this the version of him everyone adored?

“Given that you prefer remaining silent— I can tell you why,” his hand moved inside you, “you like the attention,” your cheek was against his, while your other hand rested on the nape of his neck.

Your reaction to his movements made him close his eyes in bliss, but you were too focused on not making sounds that you didn’t notice his expression. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that he was making you feel good.

“I bet you’ve barely been touched by a man,” Coriolanus echoed.

It’s just one bite of the apple.

You looked at him this time, and you wished you did it before. The blue in his eyes, his plump lips, the glistening on his forehead covered by his falling blonde curls. An angel.

No, no, he is the devil, not an angel.

“Wrong,” you breathed and his pace fastened, “actually they were better than you,” you whispered and his eyes widened.

“Lie number three,” he slid another finger, “I can tell when you’re pretending and when you’re not,” he brushed your clit with his thumb.

Oh.

You bucked your hips to make some friction, Coriolanus was painfully slow as if he was taking all the time in the world. He leaned his head to your left temple, where small reddish bruises were fading away from your skin, and he planted feather kisses on it. Coriolanus slowly traced a trail of wet kisses alongside your face. His soft lips were healing your bruises, his hand was igniting your core.

His fingers moved faster, pumping in and out your hole and slightly curled to hit exactly your sweet spot. Your little moans echoed in the room along with the sloppy sound of his hand never leaving your cunt. Coriolanus stroked your bundle of nerves once more, his lips sucked a spot behind your hear, slowly moving down your neck, marking your delicate skin with his warm kisses.

That was it. You were sure your high was coming in a matter of seconds, your mouth curved as pleasure began flowing through your body.

“But wasn’t I an uncaring, disrespectful —and what was that—oh, selfish and heartless man?” His hand stopped moving, “well I guess you were right,” his fingers were slowly pulling out your unfulfilled hole.

What was he doing?

“Did you really think you could do whatever you wanted? Having meetings without me, eating locked in your room, ignoring me for days— I have the control here.” Coriolanus looked down at you with a satisfied expression, believing that he finally asserted his dominance over you.

Your mind raced for a response, but before you could gather yourself, his words hung heavy in the air.

That was his revenge.

You thought you could teach him a lesson but he was a step ahead of you. Coriolanus humiliated you, exactly as he planned. His intent was to make you feel ashamed of your past but you gave him a better opportunity: he made you feel needy for him.

Self sabotaging.

“They are here,” he said in a calm tone, as if you were not almost buckling in that very moment.

Five seconds ago you were close to your orgasm and now you were feeling the emptiness growing inside you. You looked around confused, adjusting your body so now you were standing up, your weak knees begging for rest.

Who?

“They?” You stuttered as you watched him stepping back.

“Yes, I called them before,” he smirked, ”put your best smile for the cameras.”

Coriolanus acted like he did not just had his fingers inside you, but his body was telling another story, his bulge was visible from his pants and you noticed that as he swiftly covered his erection with his hand.

He walked towards the elevator where two peacekeepers were waiting for him. You fixed your skirt, probably too ruined and sticky to ever wear it again.

Fuck him.

You followed him, making sure to walk properly or he would’ve noticed how flustered you were. The thick doors closed, it was you, two peacekeepers and the blonde. You were sure he could smell your arousal, you still had traces of his saliva on your neck and a little bruise on your skin. A new one.

Coriolanus took a handkerchief from his pocket and he carefully cleaned his hand from your wetness, like he was cleaning his hands after a crime. Yours. The cloth wrapped around his fingers, as your walls clenched around him moments ago.

Then he caught you staring at his hand, “are you okay? You look flushed.”

You sick bastard.

Your cheeks were painted in a crimson color, of course he could see that, he was the cause of that. The same cause that made you cream your panties and shake your legs. If it wasn’t for the peacekeepers, you would have probably strangled him. But that was his lucky day.

He won.

After an infinite amount of time where your mind couldn’t stop picturing the sloppy sound from before, the elevator’s door parted. Coriolanus grabbed your shoulder as he was directed toward the exit. The silence in that room was now replaced by loud voices coming from the outside.

“Who did you call?” You tried pulling away from his grip but he kept you close.

“I told you, they haven’t seen us in a while.”

He opened the entrance and you heard someone shouting, “they are here!” A group of unknown faces were pointing microphones towards you, asking questions you didn’t bother to listen to.

You walked through the crowd side by side to him, his arm around your waist as you covered your face from the blinding flashes. The car was waiting for you in the exact spot it left you, Coriolanus let you enter in the car first as he followed by closing the door, blocking the loudness outside.

You sat on the back seat, heart racing outside your chest, forcing yourself to completely ignore his presence.

Coriolanus was again back in your thoughts as your wetness slid down your legs.

He is the forbidden fruit.

I am tempted by thee.

A/N: finally it’s out!! It has been so hard writing this chapter, I had so many ideas that I couldn’t mold them together into a coherent text lol. Anyway, as always tell me if there are grammatical mistakes because another difficulty was my limited vocabulary (a special thanks to wordreference.com or I wouldn’t be here today.) Every day I’m trying my best to improve my English so have mercy on me! Let me know if you want to be tagged next time!! 💌

Thank you so much for all the love and support!! Your comments mean a lot to me ❤️❤️ I love you all

ask me questions here 💌

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