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hidden-poet · 6 months ago

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The Nurse

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summary: Coriolanus never forgets about the nurse who treated his snakebite, and he is determined to not let her forget him.

Warnings: unrequited love, graphic wounds, stalking, coryo being de lu lu, non-con, pretty tame for me to be honest.

Word Count: 12, 250

Thank you all for you patience and kind words!

Coriolanus was sure he was going to die. He could feel the poison traveling up his arm, and through the rest of his body.

He never should have trusted Lucy-gray. Love made him stupid.

Now just as he was getting his life back, it was being slowly sucked from his body.

Betrayed by someone that owed him her life. She would have died in the Hunger games if not for him. He sacrificed everything for her, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted his final breath.

She couldn’t have it. Not now that everything he had fought his whole life for was within his reach. His fathers compass agrees. It points him in the direction of help.

Through blurry eyes, he could see the gates of the compound. There they could fix him and send him onward to officer training. There he could live up to his name.

Coriolanus struggles to put one foot in front of the other. His body felt like it was on fire. Sweat poured from him, the snake's poison, and his long journey back in the sun teamed up to exhaust him.

The ringing ears indicated that Coriolanus was done. He could no longer place where he was. Was the gate in front of him, or has he spun in a completely different direction?

The weight of the compass falls from his hands, unable to help him. The world felt as if it was spinning him around. His vision was blurry and limited to two feet in front of him.

“Sir, are you alright?”, a low yell was heard over his ringing ears.

He swiped his hand to see if he could touch them, but it shoosh’s through the air. It used all the energy he had left. No longer with the energy to stand, he crumbles to his knees.He feels the hard rocks dig into him, so he knew he was on the path to the compound.

After everything, this is how he dies. He regrets trying to make it back. It would have been better if his body was lost in the woods. Less humiliating than being found trying to crawl back like a coward.

“You’re okay”, the sweet voice spoke, closer.

He looks to see eyes staring at him. In a panic, he pushes away from them, certain it was Lucy-Gray coming to finish the job. The action pushes the side of his body into the road's gravel, scraping his skin, and leaving smaller rocks wedged in his side.

“I want to help. I just want to help. It’s okay”, the voice spoke. Not Lucy-Gray. Not a threat.

He could feel his body being hoisted up. You tucked your small shoulders under his arm, and wrapped your arm around his waist.

“You’re going to be okay”, you spoke again.

He tried to assist you in walking him forward. All his weight was lent on you, but you were determined not to drop him.

You yell for the guarding peacekeepers to come help, as they shuffle forward.

He stumbles, nearly taking you to the ground with him, but you are quick to steady the weight again. You move forward again, slower this time to allow for Coriolanus to balance himself without his senses.

You scream a name that he recognised from training, but couldn’t place a face to.

It was lucky that you was friendlier than he was. The gate swung wide at the name. No formal checks of identity that should have been done according to protocol were made.

Your name was called back, but Coriolanus screamed in pain over it. His arm began to pound in agony. He tried to move it up to his chest, but his arm had lost all movement.

You ordered the men to abandon their post to take him to the medical camp. He was surprised when they did it without a fight.

The weight of him is lifted off you as he is lifted off the ground by two officers. With one carrying his legs, and one lifting him under his arms, Coriolaus is jogged to the medical tent.

It didn’t matter. It was too late. Coriolanus Snow would die in district 12 like his father. Rebels would end the great Snow line.

He could hear you as you led the men. All sight was lost, his consciousness slipping in and out as he heard curtains being drawn, and a hasty search for something.

Coriolanus is placed on a hard bed, and something tight is wrapped around his arm.

The last thing he felt was a soothing hand sweeping over his head. A kind last touch, he thought.

He woke from heat. His whole body felt as if he was in a furnace.

A cool rag was wiped over his head, and he opened his eyes enough to see you staring back. His eyesight had returned but he had to fight to keep his eyes open.

He was laying on his uninjured arm. He raises it slightly to catch your small wrist in his hand as you go to dab his sweat again. You remain calm, waiting for him to fall back asleep.

His hand drops to the bed with your wrist.His cheek presses up against your fingers, the wet rage soaks the bedding beneath. Still you leave it there until he is back asleep before you continue your work.

The next time he woke up, he was alone with a pounding headache.

His sight was back, but his arm still ached, and he could feel the sweat on his head from his temperature.

The medical facility was large, rows and rows of beds stretched out. Most were filled with men of various ailments.

Across the large space was a wall that separated the patients from the rest of the medical facility. A large glass window showed the nurses den.

Two nurses sat behind it talking. Their uniform was light blue like the peacekeepers uniform. Only the uniform was fashioned into half length sleeves which were cuffed at their elbows and a form fitting skirt. Despite efforts of the design, it was manly.

The collars seemed too large for womens neck, the pockets on each side were too big across their chests. Coriolanus realized that they were old peacekeeper uniforms repurposed for the nurses.

Coriolaus looked up to see the railings of the curtain that could be pulled for privacy but he was too weak to rise.

He layed in disbelief that he had survived. A second chance was given to him. Nothing would stand in his way now. No longer will he be swayed by his emotions. His only focus would be rising to the top. How he got there no longer mattered. He had tried hard work, and moral reasoning, and it left him dead in the forest.

Coriolanus looked down at his bite, it was covered in a white wrap, but he could see the discolouration of his skin, and feel the liquid as it oozed out of the bite.

He hoped it would leave a scar. A reminder of a hard lesson learnt.

A doctor interrupted his thoughts to check his vitals. He was an older doctor, with gray, thin hair, and wrinkled skin. But he wore no glasses, and walked tall, and straight.

“You were lucky, Mr Snow. You were found just in time. Even two minutes later, and you would have been dead”, he said, writing down on his clipboard.

Coriolanus huffs. After everything he was owed a bit of luck.

He remembers the girl who found him. Her soft touch, and beautiful eyes. The same women who had attended to him with the cool rag.

“Who found me?”, he asks the doctor.

“One of the nurses here. Very lucky indeed, Mr Snow. One of my favorite nurses, Nurse Y/n. She took good care of you. You owe her your life”.

It felt as if he had been bitten again. He didn’t want to owe anybody anything.

“I would like to thank her”.

He remembers how you struggled to keep his weight up right. You could have left him. Had him be someone else's problem, but you didn’t. You were still learning that goodness would not come back to you.

“You’ll get your chance. She’s on night shift tonight”.

He felt eager to see you. Someone in this world yet to learn it was dog eat dog.

The doctor said you were his favorite. That could only mean that you were kind, and beautiful. Coriolanus expected nothing less from you.

Coriolanus waits while the others sleep. The shifts had still not been switched yet. He grew inpatient. He wanted to thank you, and go to sleep.

But the same nurse who delivered his dinner sat there flipping through a magazine behind the glass.

Hours passed, he thought about abandoning the idea, and going to sleep. The hospital was small, and inadequately staffed. He was sure to run into you at a later date. Yet he made no move to sleep. Part of him wanted to see you tonight.

Finally, he did. The shifts were changed, and the nurse he had grown to detest was putting down her magazine to greet you.

He recognized you instantly as you entered the nurses den.You put down your coat and bag, as you talk to the nurse on duty. For a late night shift you seemed in good spirits.

You look out from the window, and for some reason Coriolanus pretended to be asleep. He didn’t want you to think he was a stalker, waiting up for you.

Only one nurse was on duty overnight due to staff shortage, and Coriolanus felt relieved when the other nurse returned back to the nurses quarters. He wanted to be alone with you.

He waits patiently until you come out to check on the men.

You pulled blankets over them like they were children, put their limbs back onto their small beds. You made sure every man's vitals were where they were supposed to be. More work than the other nurse did her entire shift.

You are slow getting to him, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoyed watching you as you worked.

It was dark, and you were so focused on your task, you didn’t see him staring at you until you reached his bed.

“Hello” he greets.

“Mr Snow”, you address, “You should be asleep”.

“I was waiting for you. I hear it is you that I have to thank for saving my life”.

“Hardly. I just assisted”.

You were bashful about saving a man's life.

“Well thank you for assisting to save my life, and for carrying me to the gates. I wouldn’t have got there if you hadn’t arrived”.

The blush on your cheeks was heavenly. A small smile teased your lips, and you looked shyly down. It wasn’t often you got praised, he guessed, he would try to do it as often as possible.

“It was no problem”, you mutter.

Your eyes suddenly shoot down to him, and your posture straightens.

“Is your arm giving you pain?”, you ask him.

It was, but he didn’t want anymore drugs making him hazy so he denies the throbbing sensation.

“No. I feel fine”.

“Can I get you an extra blanket or pillow?”.

His heart twists at your words. He very rarely hears ‘what can i do for you’, instead of ‘what can i take from you’. It was a nice change.

“No, thank you”.

“If you change your mind, let me know. I have rounds to do. Any problem, push your call button” you point to a yellow light clicker next to him, “try to get some sleep. Rest is important in your recovery”.

He almost begged you to stay, but it was a childish need.

“Thank you, nurse Y/n”, he returns.

You leave him with a smile, “of course”.

Over the next couple of days of bed rest Coriolanus grew restless to see you. It felt like torture, waiting hours to sometimes only catch a glimpse of you as you pottered in the staffs den, or made your rounds on the other side of the hospital.

He mostly hated Tuesdays, and Fridays, as they were your days off.

He felt jealous when he saw you attend to other patients. He knew it was silly, it was your job, but he didn’t like being attended to by anyone else, and he didn’t like you attending to anyone else. He didn’t like that you had a job at all. Let alone one this taxing.

But it did mean that he got to see you.

He liked to think that he was your favorite, but you gave no indication that it was true.

You were kind to everyone. Had repours with nearly all of the men in your wards. Some even called you by your first name only. Coriolanus felt it was disrespectful and too familiar for his likening.

The man next to him had a leg blown off in an explosive test gone wrong. Sometimes it felt as if he was your favorite. You would spend more time at his bed, than Coriolanus’s. And you always called him by his name, Francies, but always called Coriolanus, Mr snow.

Still you found his compass for him, polished and delivered it straight to him, that was a sign that you favorited him. You only performed within your job requirements for Francies, you went beyond for him.

He began to worry that love had made him stupid again. Like Lucy-Gray, you consumed his thoughts.

Except here, you held the power. He could only see you when you decided to visit him, where he could visit Lucy-Gray in her enclosure anytime he wished. You fed him, he fed Lucy-Gray. He hated being on the other side of the power imbalance. He promised himself that he would only be on top from now on.

It was stupid after everything to fall so quickly back into his obsessive nature. He thought he would never love again. Never give someone that much power over him again. He would marry for power, and to someone who had no sway over him at all.

Yet when he saw you eating soup for the millionth time in the nurses den, he wished for nothing more than to give you every luxury life had to offer. You saved his life. You were kind to him, when all he had ever known was being of use to someone.

He would get back to the Capitol, Hoff had promised him that district 2 was still on the cards. All he had to do was get better, and he could complete officer training, get back to the Capitol, and send for you there.

Without school in the way, he could get a good job. Plinth had managed to get Coriolanus’ academy diploma. That still had use, even with his time as a peacekeeper.

He would get the Snow apartment back. It might be crowded, and run down, but he would slowly fix that. He figured you wouldn’t mind so long as he was working towards a better future.

He would daydream of a better future for you both, while he waited to see you. Not only was he given another chance, he was given motivation to take it.

Why would you want a low Peacekeeper for a husband? You were surrounded by them all day. What good were they to you? How would they take care of you, and provide all that you need.

Even on an officer's wage, it would be a struggle. He still had to send home money. Even as an officer he would be no good to you. He had to get home, and rise to the top.

But, he was going to miss you in doing so. He faked being hurt just a little bit longer than necessary. He would have to go soon, but two extra weeks of your attention wouldn’t derail his plans too much.

You worked mostly night shifts which distributed Coriolanus sleep. But it worked in his favor too. Rarely was anyone else awake. It could just be the two of you

He thought you liked it too. You would smile when you saw him awake.

He found himself smiling back on reflex.

“Do you sleep, Mr Snow?” you tease him.

“Not when you’re around”, he admits.

His words still you. It’s clear you feel uncomfortable that he said it. Coriolanus wished he could disappear.

“Is your arm giving you pain again?” you ask. He takes the opportunity for the dismissal.

“Ah-Yes”, he deflects.

You turn up his pain relief, and unwrap his bandage to take a look.

Coriolanus set his record for two wrong things said in a row. He was always cool, and calculated. You had to be to survive in the Capitol. Honey-tongued he was called, but now he was acting like a fool.

He didn’t want the extra pain relief that would make him tired, and he definitely didn’t want you to look at his wound that was yellow and pusy.

It didn’t irk you like he suspected that it would have, but still he tried to yank his arm away and hide it under the blanket.

You catch his hand with yours to keep his arm still as you inspect it. He suddenly felt very hot as you held his hand on the bed, while you looked put together and focused like always.

“Yellow bellies have the most painful bite of any snake in the district. I am surprised you complain so little”.

You jerk your hand from his, causing his fingers to curl. He keeps his fingers tight against his palm which aggravates the sore muscles on his bitten arm.

Taking a bottle from his nightstand, and dapping it into a medical cloth, you turn your focus back on him.

“I am just going to clean it. It might hurt a little”.

The first dap felt like acid on his arm. He grits his teeth from the pain.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself. How long have you been a peacekeeper for?”.

You were trying to distract him. He picked up on it easily. He should have felt like a child, but he felt thrilled at the opportunity to talk to you about something other than his arm.

“Not long. I am going to Officer training in two, and then I’ll make my way back to the Capitol”.

“Oh the Capitol? You aren’t a transfer from another district”, you observe as you tap his yellow, and flaky skin with your rag.

“Do you know the Campbells?”, you ask.

He did. He was surprised that you did.

“We were neighbors, before the war” you explain.

“You’re from the Capitol?” he asks.

“I was. The war took both my parents. After that there was nothing left for me there”.

There was no emotion as you said it. No hidden anguish at all you had lost.

“I am sorry that happened to you”, he offered.

“Don’t be. Plenty of orphans due to the war. I am grateful that the medic school took me. But the Campbells had this little white dog that I used to love. I always wondered if it survived”.

Coriolanus knew that the dog was long gone. The Campbells had eaten it when supplies were cut off to the Capitol. They tried to sell its fur to Grandma’am.

He didn’t want to disappoint you with the news, so a lie fell off his tongue.

“Yes, it did. Mrs Campbell carries it everywhere with her”.

You smile and he is glad he chose to lie.

“My parents died in the war too. I have my grandmother, and cousin waiting for me to get back to the Capitol’��.

“I hope you get there, Mr Snow”, you say as you wrap his arm back up.

“Would you come with me?”, he asks.

Your pause made him worry that you were going to laugh at him, but instead you looked shyly up and smiled.

“This is my home. I am happy here’, you state.

“The Capitol would be better than here. I could give you the life you deserve”.

“The Capitol is not for me”, you deflect.

He felt angry at your resistance. Did you not think he could look after you? Did you not trust that he would not remain a peacekeeper all his days.

“So that’s a no. You wouldn’t come with me”, he determines.

It should have been disheartening. He should have left the idea alone there, but if anything it was a challenge. A call for action. Motivation to leave the hospital and become the man you would leave the district for.

“That’s a no,” you agree, “But when you get to the Capitol, I want you to give Mrs Campbell's dog a pat for me.”

The dog is dead, he wanted to say. You had hurt him, so he wanted to hurt you, but cool, and calculated is how he survived, and it’s how he would get everything he is after.

“I’ll do it for a kiss,” he barters.

You look surprised he said it. Unsure at first, before your lips turned into a sly smile.

Bending down, he thinks you are about to accept his offer. He parts his lips slightly for you, bringing his head towards yours slowly.

His heart pounds in his chest. If his arm wasn’t so sore he would reach out for your face.

He remembers the anticipation of Lucy-grays first kiss. It was a dizzing feeling that he hated.

He swears he feels your lips graze his but you duck your head away and kiss both his cheeks quickly.

“You can tell Mrs Campbell I said hi too”, you giggle.

“Was that amusing for you?”, he asks.

You nod your head with a grin across your face.

“Goodnight, Mr Snow. I’ll see you for breakfast”.

Wasting no more time with him, you continue your work with other patients.

“Goodnight, nurse y/n.”

Coriolanus rests his head on the pillow as you disappear into the other side of the hospital.

He must have been a child the last time he couldn’t help but smile. All that had happened seemed like a lifetime ago, and not only a couple of weeks. He was a new person. Lucy-Gray had killed the boy, and raised the man.

Wouldn’t come to the Capitol with him? He would be the final decider of that. He smiled thinking about the future ahead of him.

The news of his discharge did not bring him the pleasure he was expecting.

Who knew how long officer training would take. It could be years before he got back to the Capitol and that was only when his journey began. He was sure he would not forget you, but would time cause you to forget him.

His fellow Peacekeepers wished him well as he packed his truck up. Commander Hoff had signed him out this morning, but you weren’t there to say goodbye.

He couldn’t let you forget him.

He owed you his life, he had a debt to pay.

Everyone told him how happy he should be. To get out of 12, but you were in 12. Surrounded by young men with little brains but big muscles.

How lonely could he expect you to get before you found warmth in the arms of a soldier.

He tosses in his uncomfortable bed. In the morning he would be sent

miles away. Could he trust you to assume his love? No. He had to tell you. Had to assure you that he was coming back.

Tonight you did night shift. He had to tell you to wait for him.

He leaps out of his bunk, pulling on his cardigan before sneaking out of the bunks.

If a commanding officer caught him outside after lights out, the punishment was a night in the compound jail. He wouldn’t be released until late morning and would miss his train.

He is quick as he moves through the darkness. Only stopping to hide when night staff were approaching. He made it safely to the nurses door.

It was late. Night guard focused on the boundaries so Coriolanus felt safe to approach the door to the nurses den despite the light illuminating the door.

He knocks on the entry, and you open it shortly after. Unsuspecting, and untroubled.

“Mr Snow,” you smile at him, causing him to unknowingly smile back.

“Is something wrong?”, you step aside to allow him in out of the cold. He closes the door behind him, and feels secure being trapped in the room with you.

“Yes-No”, he wasn’t sure where to begin.

“Your arm?” you guessed.

“I am going to officer training tomorrow”, he states.

You smile wide at him again, but this time no smile on his lips curled back. He could tell you had not realized your stake in this.

“Congratulations.’’ you move past him to place a clip bored back on the shelf behind him, “I am happy for you.”

“Are you?” he asks.

“Of course. I remember you telling me your plans to reach the Capitol. Officer training is a good stepping stone”.

He grabs your arm to turn you towards him.

“I don’t want you to forget me”.

You looked unsettled, but made no attempt to break away.

“Of course not”, you answer.

“I don’t want you to think I’ll forget you either. I’ll send for you as soon as I can”.

Your face twists, and you slightly attempt to raise your arm out of his hold.

“Mr Snow, I am afraid you are confused. Maybe you should go back to your bunk”.

He uses his grip on your arm to shake you slightly.

“Don’t speak to me like that”, he requests. He wasn’t one of your patients.

“I told you, I have no interest in returning to the Capitol”. Your voice had changed from your usual sweet tone. It carried a hint of irritation, and strong determination.

You try to tug your arm back from him but it was too tight,

“I have an interest in you returning to the Capitol”.

You look past him to the door. It causes great irritation for Coriolanus. Who wanted all of your focus.

With his hold on your arm he pushes you back into the wall and kisses you. His lips are hard against yours. His eyes are closed but yours remain open from the shock.

You struggle against his kiss, but his grip was tight on your jaw and his lips pressed unmercifully against yours.

He was the one to break the kiss, leaving you breathless and shrunk against the wall.

“I need you to tell me you’ll wait for me”, he demands.

“Mr Snow, I-”.

He brings you forward to slam you back into the wall as punishment for your hesitation.

“Say it”.

Your hands come up in defense between you.

“I am sorry if I misled you”.

“Misled me? You saved my life”

“It’s normal for patients to feel this way after a traumatic experience. Your body has been through a lot of shock, wait for it to heal”.

“Say it. Say the words, Coriolanus Snow, I am yours, and I’ll wait for you”.

You look out the window to the sleeping patients. Even if one woke and saw you, most of them were too sick to even get out of bed.

“Don’t look at them. Look at me”, he demands. The hands that held you in place moved up to your neck

“Okay” you agreed quickly before he started to apply pressure.

“Say it”, he declared.

“I’ll wait for you”. You say but it doesn’t satisfy him.

“The whole thing”, he directs.

“Coriolanus, I am yours and I’ll wait, okay?”.

With his hands still on your neck he kisses you once more. You make no attempt to stop him as you place your hands on arms.

He pulls back with a boyish smile on his lips.

“I love you”, he states.

You pull his hands away from your throat and keep them still between your hands.

“You must go back to bed now. You have a big day ahead of you. You need your rest for it”, you push him away slightly as you spoke, hoping it would be enough to redirect him.

He removes his hands from you completely with a smile.

He knew you were right. He needed to arrive his best tomorrow. Show district 2 that he wouldn’t be there for very long.

“I’ll send for you as soon as I can”, he promised.

You nod your head enthusiastically, pushing firmly on his arm to the exit.

His feet shuffle on the floor as he slowly walks to the door.

He stops just as his foot hits the cold air from the open door. It felt like you had run into a brick wall as you knocked against him.

“I promise y/n, I’ll take care of you”, he vows.

He comes in for a kiss again. His hand found its way to the side of your face to pull you in, and his lips pressed hard against yours.

You yank yourself away and push on him to retreat back to his bunk.

“Go” you whisper and he does.

You watch as he runs back into the buildings and under cover of the darkness.

Your shaky hands turn the lock of the door as he disappears from sight.

The next morning,as soon as he wakes he heads to the medical facility to say goodbye to you. He skips breakfast to do so.

You weren’t there, and he had no clue where the nurse quarters were kept. He had no time to find out, his train would leave soon.

He arrived at the train station disheartened that he couldn’t see you one last time. You must have been greatly upset at his departure. A goodbye must have been too much.

He pictured you crying in your bed, and his heart pulled to think of you in such a state because of him. He would write as soon as he landed in district 2, never mind the cost.

It was a delight when Commander Hoff spoke of a change of plans. Dr Gaul had requested your presence, Hoff said.

His luck had finally turned. He was back in the Capitol. Back where he was supposed to be in a high position of power and money to burn.

It was too soon to bring you back. The ground beneath him could still turn to quick sand under his feet. He thought of you often, every second that he had spare. He worried that you were angry with him. It had been too long since he had talked to you. He has been so busy settling in, and flaunting his new success that he didn’t have time to sit down to write. The few times he tried to squeeze in on the car ride, or while waiting for a meeting, his hands would shake too much.

He felt stupid. A simple letter should not make his hands shake. On the way back from the lake, he had promised himself that he would never allow love to make him weak again. Now he is worried about your feelings towards him.

Finally he decided that enough was enough. He rises from his bed after tossing nearly the whole night through, and enters his study.

The pen felt heavy in his hand as he sat. He wasn’t sure what to say, or where to start.

He shakes the pen in his hand. Enough was enough. He would be careful how much you swayed his emotions.

��Dear Nurse Y/n,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. ‘

He strikes his pen through the words, before crumpling up the paper and throwing it away. So formal.

‘Dear Y/n,

My plans to reach the Capitol have been expedited. I am now working under Dr Gaul in the war department. We have plans to run for senate.

I have not forgotten my promise that I would send for you. ‘

His pen stills. With everything going on, he wasn’t sure that now was the best time to bring you. Tigres had limited contact. He was working until late at night. Nearly all his money went to the run for senate.

Once he wins things would be different. He would send for you then. Until then, he wanted you to have a piece of him. A token of his promise.

He picks up his old peacekeeper dog tags from his desk drawer. It felt like a collar in his hands.

He tosses them into the envelope and continues writing his letter to you.

‘I have enclosed my dog days. I wish for you to wear them while I am away. A symbol of my love. We will not be parted for too long. Take care of yourself.

Yours,

C.Snow’

Coriolanus writes to you every evening before bed, but no letter is ever returned. He didn’t mind, he was sure that it was because you missed him too much. Writing would cause you pain, and that’s the last thing he wanted to cause, even if a reply was all he wanted.

He would write mundane things. What he did that day, how much he missed you, how his election for senator was going.

It was going well. He won voters easily. But the run kept him busy, with little time and energy left to write to you. He worried that you would be upset with him. Sometimes all he could manage to write was, ‘I love you. I am tired.’

The gifts he would send were returned. Every letter he would assure you that he was working towards bringing you here. Begged you not to be mad at him.

But you would not accept his telephone calls and your presents piled at his feet.

It had been nearly six months since he left district 12. Six months of not seeing you. Not hearing from you. It drove him mad.

He called you a spiteful woman in one of his late night letters after a fundraising gala.

The next letter that arrived the same day apologized. You were not a spiteful woman. He was a stupid man. You had every right to be angry with him. He is taking too long. He begged for your forgiveness and reminded you of his love.

You threw the letters in the bin and clocked on for your shift. The days were longer now that you don’t talk to the patients.

Coriolanus sits in his office after a long day. He wanted nothing more than to go home and have you there. Ready to care for him like you did at the hospital.

He twirls the pen between his fingers. The other hand played with the coins he planned to give you.

He wished you would reply to him. A single sentence would be enough to quench his thirst.

Begging for a letter would seem desperate. With a beginning in mind he set his pen to paper.

‘Dear Y/n,

I hope to hear from you that you have been well. ‘

Yes, good. Set the expectation of a reply.

‘Please, let me know if there is anything I can do to ease any discomfort. I have been well. Apologies for the delay in writing to you. I have been busy preparing to run for senator. With the support I have managed to gather I believe victory is set. You’ll be a senator's wife upon returning to the Capitol. As soon as I win, and it is safe, I will send for you. I haven’t forgotten you.

I have missed you terribly, and think of you often.

I hope to be reunited soon.

Yours,

C.Snow.’

Nothing but the money he sent was returned.

It sent him into a fit of rage. Papers were thrown off his desk. Decorative ornaments were thrown across the room and into walls.

He decided that no more letters were going to be sent unless he could tell you the news you have been waiting for.

He worked harder than ever. No longer playing fair. He cut corners where he could. Relied on money, rather than charm. He used to be opposed to the use of poison. Told Dr Gaul that he would win the senate seat through his wit, but time was passing too quickly. Coriolanus grew impatient. A nasty rumor about what he was doing spread around the Capitol, but he quickly shut it down.

It paid off with a landslide victory. He hadn’t just won his entry to the presidency. He had won you.

Surely, you could no longer be mad at him with such an impressive victory. He had his assistant organize a train out of district 12 for you.

With it in his hand he sat in his office chair and penned you a letter still dressed in his uncomfortable formal attire.

‘Dearest,

You may of heard the news of my win last night.

I have attached a train ticket out of 12. It leaves next monday at noon. Don’t miss it.

Forever yours,

C.Snow. ‘

With no reply back, Coriolanus was hopeful that he would see you on the train. He arrived too early to collect you, and spent the hour waiting by pacing the platform with the dying rose.

When it finally pulled up, he could hardly hide his excitement. It had felt like years without seeing you. He sent you beautiful green luggage set to back what you wanted, and a new dress to arrive in.

He waits for you to arrive out of the first class carriage but it emptied without sight of you. He continued down, weaving through the people down to the luggage carriage. Maybe you had gotten off the train while he was distracted.

The green set of luggage he had sent you was being carried off the train. He rushed to the carriage to greet you, but only a working man was there.

“Where’s the girl who owns this luggage?”, he demanded.

“No girl, sir. Only the luggage and the ticket”, replied the man.

The rose dropped from his hand. It felt as if the venom from the snake had begun to pulse through his body again.

He rushes back to his office where he hastily grabs a piece of paper, and pen.

His pen digs a hole into the paper from where he pressed down, but through his anger no words could be formed.

After everything you would not come. You were stubborn like Lucy-gray. Didn’t know when to quit. He would have to change that about you when you became a senate's wife.

He crumples up the letter and throws it in the bin. There would be no warning for you.

The next week he arrived back in district 12. It was a surprise to the district which meant it was a surprise to you.

A trip as a new senate leader to ensure the medical facilities were up to standard, he had told the Commander.

The new Commander of district 12 was chuffed with a visit from the Capitol. It proved difficult to be left alone at the hospital. Coriolanus’s eyes the small hospital he managed to push his way too.

The Commander was too loud. He would take the element of surprise away. It would give you a chance to escape, and Coriolanus would spend hours searching the compound for you.

He wanted to wrap his hands around the new Commander's throat. Coriolanus despised Hoff during his peacekeeper days. But at least Hoff knew the importance of composure. This man nearly leaped into Coriolanus' arms.

A lie of a headache landed Coriolanus in the doctor's den. It was a bigger, self-contained room than the nurses' den. It was situated at the very back of the hospital, away from the noise and eyes of others. It made it a perfect place to bring you.

“There was a nurse”, Coriolanus spoke as he took a seat at the table, “back in my old peacekeeping days. Nurse Y/N, I think? Could you send for her? I’d like to see a familiar face”.

“Of course, Senator Snow. I’ll send her, and a doctor right along”. The Commander turns to leave. Panic and annoyance rises through Coriolanus.

“Just her”, Coriolanus said, a little too sharply. He takes a breath to regain himself before directing the Commander once more.

“And Commander, take two of my peacekeepers to escort her back. You’re a busy man, and they will want to do their security measures anyway”.

The Commander nods back before leaving the room.

Coriolanus lets out a shaky breath, running his fingers through his hair to smooth the curls back. After all this time he was going to see you again. He would be able to hold you, he was sure.

How would you greet him? Should he wait for you to set the tone? See your reaction and base his off that. He wasn’t sure he would be able to stop himself from touching you if you were within arms distance.

He sat back down behind the table. It would give him an excuse so you would be forced to make first contact.

His finger locks with his curls. He should have got his hair professionally done, but he was in such a hurry to get here to you. Instead he focuses on straightening his suit. It was expensive and well made. It should impress you, but not if it was crumpled.

His pocket bore a hole with the present he had brought for you. A lovely pair of diamond dangle earrings.

He twisted the box around in his fingers, and took another deep breath. He hoped that upon seeing him your anger would disappear.

Maybe it was all a test. You wanted him to come back. To put on a show for your friends here. The prince took the princess away to live happily ever after.

The prince brought a nice pair of earrings with him. Surely, you could forgive him for his delay. He couldn’t bear your anger.

His anxiety was matched with the ticking of his wrist watch. What could be taking so long? He wonders. Were you also readying yourself for him? Didn’t you know that you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on? It didn’t matter to him if your face was dirty, or your eyes carried sleep. Your heart blinded him to mere appearances. It was your soul he loved, and your soul he would have.

“Hello, dearest” he greets with a soft smile.

You slam the door closed behind you, shutting the Peacekeepers out.

“What are you doing here?” you seeth.

Coriolanus pockets the box once more. He would give it to you when you would appreciate them more.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”, he pours the pot that was given to him into the single teacup provided.

“I have work to do. What do you want?”, you state.

“I just want to talk. Sit please”. He gets up to show his full height. Sometimes he swore you forgot the noticeable size difference when you talked.

He gestures to the chair across the small table. He places the cup in front of you as you sit, before returning to his seat across from you.

“How have you been?”, he asks casually.

“You want to talk about my health?”, you spat back at him.

“You never responded to my letters”.

“I told you to stop sending them to me”.

“No”, Coriolanus rejects, “I never heard anything from you”.

It was a sore point for him that swelled a lot of the emotions he had pushed down.

“If I didn’t have tabs on you, I would have thought you were dead”, he let slip.

His eyes closed in frustration as he said it. Just your presence made him lose his composure. At least with you, he knew his secrets were safe.

“You were keeping tabs on me?”, you muttered in disbelief.

“As I said, I thought you could be dead. I was just making sure you were safe. I wasn’t sure my letters or presents were even reaching you”, he reasons. He leans his hand across the table, wanting so badly to touch you.

“What are you doing here?”, you ask again.

“I’ve come to take you home. Back to the Capitol”.

You did not look joyed at the news like you should have.

“District 12 is my home”, you accounce.

He pulls himself back from across the table. A harsher approach would be needed, so he squares his shoulders, and sits up as tall as he can. His face hardenings, and he feels a scowl edge across his face.

“You are happy here?”.

Flashes of the forest cross his mind. The endless wandering. The dull ache of thinking that he had failed his father. The betrayal.

“Yes”, you answer.

Coriolaus trains his eyes on the teapot, no longer able to look at you with such hate.

“That’s a shame”, he states.

“Shame?” You question.

“I didn’t come here to leave without you”.

“Mr snow-“

He sighs deeply, leaning on the table

“Coriolaus, please”, he begs.

You suddenly stand up, your chair falling back at movement.

“Coriolanus, get out. Keep your letters to yourself, and never bother me again”.

Coriolaus doesn’t move, just stares at you from his chair as if you were the crazy one.

“Get out!” you scream at him.

His puzzled expression turns back to a neutral stare as he rises from his chair.

“Forgive me, nurse Y/N. I wasn’t aware of your indifference”.

His shoulders brush yours as he passes you to the door.

He had a plan B. He always had a plan B.

The next morning you were assigned to blood donation. A overhanging tent was placed near the front of the gates where districts, and fellow peacekeepers could donate for a few dollars.

You assisted a doctor in drawing, categorizing and storing the blood for use. You knew Coriolanus was still in the Compound. The Commander drove him around, showing him new additions since he was a peacekeeper. Coriolanus could care less, but he caught two glimpses of you as the car passed.

You were always busy working like he remembered. The tent quieted as it reached late afternoon. By 4 o’clock, it was just you and one other doctor attending the tent.

You still had three districts in chairs as the blood was pumped out of them. Coriolanus waited behind a building until he could see only one district left.

The doctor looks to be packing up while you talk to the man in the chair. Coriolanus hated that you were speaking to him. He was nothing. Less than nothing; he was district. He didn’t deserve to be talking to you.

Coriolanus made his way over with a calm demeanor, despite how he was feeling.

The doctor noticed him before you did.

“Mr Snow. Can we help you, sir?”, the doctor asked.

“I’d like to donate blood for the cause”, he answered. He made a point not to look at you.

“Mr Snow, that’s quite generous, but unnecessary”, the man replied.

“Please, I insist”. Coriolanus rolled up the sleeve of his left arm to prepare himself for the chair.

The Doctor looks to you, before accepting Coriolanus’s request.

“Very well. If you follow me I’ll just check your levels, and then I’ll send you to my nurse”.

Coriolanus could hear your protest leaving your lips, so he spoke loud and clear over them.

“Excellent”, he exclaimed.

He follows the Doctor to a small metal table with two fold out chairs opposite each other. He could partially see you from where he sat. You were still attending to the man in the chair but the talking had stopped.

Coriolanus engages the doctor in idle small talk so you couldn’t ask to be excused. He could see that the district had grown uncomfortable in Coriolanus’s presence, and kept asking how long he had left.

By the time Coriolanus had his blood pressure taken, and a sample of his blood taken, the district was being sent away from the tent with a coin, and a loaf of bread you had given him. Just in time for Coriolanus' time in the chair.

You ignore him, talking only to the doctor.

“Sir-I”, you begin but Coriolanus started his sentence in the middle of yours.

“I admit I have other motives aside from my patriotism. Nurse, would you mind answering a few questions I have? I want to hear every voice before I implement new changes”.

After hearing the Doctors complaints about the resources and pay, Coriolanus knew that the promise of change was his way in.

“Yes! yes, of course. You must hear all sides” the Doctor boasts.

“Doctor, would you mind leaving us? I find people speak easier truths without an audience”.

“Of course. She’ll tell you. It’s like working in a shooting range with limited bullets”, the Doctor turns to walk away, causing you to call out for him, taking his coat in your hands to tug him back.

He yanks it away from your grip. “Tell him”, he demands, “You won’t be in trouble he wants to know”.

Coriolanus gently touches your elbow, taking it in his hand, but releasing it as the Doctor becomes more focused on you.

“I’ll be back in half-an-hour. Don’t take anymore patients, I want to be packed up before it gets dark”.

The Doctor walks away from the tent, and the half-an-hour time frame begins to tick.

You looked sour, and slightly worried. He hated to see it, especially by cause of him.

You don’t move as he shuffles past you. He wanted to ease you so you could speak like you did when you visited his bedside. It was easy conversation, and for maybe the first time in his life, he felt seen by somebody. He wanted it back, but first he had to regain his familiar status with you.

“We’re in broad daylight, surrounded by Peacekeepers who like you more than me. What could I do?”, Coriolanus states as he takes his seat in the chair.

“You are unbelievable”, you scold, but move to swap his pressure point with disinfectant.

“I am sorry. Truely”. It had been so long since you were so close. Mere inches between you and him. It felt so right, could you feel it too? He thought.

“I never meant to offend you. My actions never held any ill intent”, he consoles.

The needle dug harshly into his arm, but he showed no effect of it.

“Sending me gifts, keeping tabs on me. You think I have forgotten that night in the nurses den?”. You pull back away from him once the needle begins drawing blood. He hated to let you, but plan B involved good terms.

“I am sorry for all of it. I misinterpreted, and fed delusion from my own fantasies. I never meant you harm”, he shouted his words across the tent hoping no other person was listening.

“I hope you can forgive me, Y/N. You saved my life”.

He could see your common sense fighting with your mercy. Your hands fidgeted, and your eyes kept bouncing from what you were doing to Coriolanus.

“Let’s just forget it”, you mutter.

“What?” he calls, despite hearing fine.

His plan works and you move back over to him to speak again.

“I forgive you. Bridge over water” you offer.

The saying was ‘water over the bridge’, but he didn’t want to correct you. If you said it was bridge over water, he would accept it.

“Thank you”, he gushed. “Why don’t you sit beside me like old times? I really do want to hear your opinions on reform”.

To his delight you do take a seat and discuss the issues with the Compound hospital. The Doctor focused on the long hours, disproportionate pay to Capitol doctors, and few resources.

You were more patient focused. You talked about rehabilitative care outside of the hospital. The food offered to recovering patients was poor which he could attest to. Beds were too hard, you wanted patients to be able to reach home and talk to their families more, resources were an issue for you too but in a patient care angle rather than a hindrance to your innate ability to save the injured.

You spoke passionately. It was wonderful to listen to you, Coriolanus almost felt bad that he had pushed the call button to his head peacekeeper nearly five minutes ago. He would have let you talk for as long as you liked. Sat happily without a word so long as you were speaking to him, but the Doctor would be back soon, plan B had to be set into action.

Coriolanus could see the Commander, and a string of Peacekeepers with guns as they came from across the field. It was impressive timing given that the file would have been put in the Commanders hands only a few minutes ago.

He tried to focus on you as you talked. Revell in your attention, and joy before it was ripped away.

You turn as you hear the marching

“What is going on?” Coriolanus questioned with fake outrage.

“Senator Snow, it is with great displeasure that I must announce that we have been harboring a traitor to Panem”.

“Traitor?” you gasp.

The Commander throws the fabricated file on the desk for all to see.

You take a look at a picture that had been manipulated to look as if you were talking to a man in the forest. Others show you talking to the same man in the middle of town, and rooms you had never seen before. Copies of notes in your handwriting passed Compound information along, and spoke of recruiting injured patients.

“Victorn layman. A known rebel who has been successful in many of his attacks, no doubt thanks to you”, the Commander accuses.

“I have never seen that man before, I swear”, you turn to Coriolanus with pleading eyes

“The evidence doesn’t lie”, the Commander screeched, “Cuff her, and throw her in the gaol”.

“Wait” you implore as the heavy cuffs are secured around your wrists, “I am not a traitor”.

“Commander, please. There must be a mistake”, Coriolanus felt compelled to speak on your behalf.

“If there is, Mr Snow, the committee of justice will reach the bottom of it”, the Commander promises. If Coriolanus didn’t hold control over the situation, it would have worried him. The committee of justice was very rarely, if ever, interested in justice.

Two Peacekeepers take each of your arms to push you forward. Coriolanus has to clench his fist to stop himself from tearing you free from them.

You call for him to do something as they lead you to the jail, but he watches with the needle still in his arm. The Doctor returns to see you being taken away by the Peacekeepers.

Coriolanus rips the needle from his arm, leaving it dangling as he walks away from the Doctor full of questions.

Plan B would drive you into his arms, or the grave.

He lets your brew in the compound jail for a week as the committee of justice overlooks your case.

The day they declare you guilty and sentence you to death by hanging. He knew you were ready for the picking.

That night he visits you, sure that you would now see the light.

He enters the compound jail, and saw you on the floor in the furthest corner.

The jail cell was bare, apart from a toilet.

A long stretch of bars that enclosed a dirty, concrete floor. You were alone, per his request, but not even a blanket was given to you.

You look up at him as he enters. His hands were in the pocket of his coat. His shoulders were square, and his hair was neatly pushed back into small curls.

“Nurse Y/n. I hate to see you like this”.

You scramble up from the floor towards him as you speak.

“Senator Snow, I didn’t do it. I am not a traitor”, you explain.

“The evidence would suggest otherwise”

“It’s not true” you shake your head, the tears fall off your cheek, “I swear. I swear I have no idea what is going on.”

Seeing you like this felt right. He was back in the position of power. Like Lucy-Gray you were trapped where he could always find you. You depended on him for food and water.

He holds tightly onto the iron bars, and presses his face as close as he could,

“I could get you out’’.

Your face seemed hopeful. He hated to crush it moments later.

“If you reconsider my offer of the Capital”.

You rub your face with your hands. Your tears were yet to stop spilling.

“Why are you doing this?”, you sob.

“I don’t want to”. He pushes his whole body as close as he could to the bars, but you remain five feet away.

“I owe you my life. I just want to help.”

“I didn’t do it!”, you exclaim.

“Y/n, they are going to hang you for treason If you don’t accept my offer. Please. I just want to help”.

“I don’t-’ a sharp breath interrupts your sentence, “I have never- I don’t know that man.”

“It doesn’t matter. Come noon tomorrow, you’ll hang”.

“Please, don’t let them.”

You move to the other side of the bars from him. Your hand curled under the same bars, just under his hand.

“I won’t. You just have to say it”, he speaks softly and slowly, peering down at you, “Coriolanus Snow, I am yours”.

“You said I saved your life. It would make us even”.

Coriolanus shakes his head

‘’I can protect you only if you are mine. Say it’’, he demands.

You’re silent for a moment causing Coriolanus to worry that you would not accept his offer. Was he so bad that you would choose the noose over him?

“I don’t want to die”, you admit finally.

He reaches through the bars to your waist, pulling you as far as he could to him. You keep your hands tight around the metal.

“You saved my life, let me save yours. I just need to hear those five little words”.

“I’ll go back to the Capitol?”, you asked.

“Yes, with me. Far from the noose”.

You squeeze your eyes shut, and your hands tighten around the bars, but you nod your head.

“Coriolanus Snow”, he begins for you.

You take a big breath but finally say the words he had been longing to hear.

“Coriolanus Snow, I am yours”. You repeat.

He smiles, moving his hands from your waist up to your face so he could wipe away the tears.

He brings your face as close as he could to the bars and kisses you. The bars hindered his passion. His lips would only barely press against yours.

When he pulls away he keeps your face in his hands as he speaks.

“You’ll be okay. Peacekeepers will come get you early tomorrow morning, and take you to the train. I’ll meet you there, and we’ll leave, okay? We’ll go back to the Capitol to live the life we were supposed to live”, he promises.

“Tomorrow?”, you question, “no, you said you could get me out”.

You pull back out of his hold and he returns his hands to the bars.

“I can. But if I whisk you away under the cover of night, how will that look? Like a guilty person laying down for the right man? Tomorrow it will look like they are taking you back to the Capitol for further investigation. In the Capitol I can clear your name.’’

You go further away from him, centering yourself in your cell. He wanted to reach out and pull you back but you were too far out of his grasp.

“This is my home. These people are my family” you say softly.

“And look how quickly they have turned on you. If it wasn’t for me, they would watch you hang tomorrow.”

Your eyes fill up with tears again. He had hit a sore spot.

“Hey, I am sorry. Come here”.

His hands stretch through the bars for you but you don’t move from your spot.

The tears turn into a scolding look causing him to retract himself from the bars, feeling foolish once more.

He turns to leave, but being alone in the dark cell panicked you.

“Wait”, you call out. He turns to see you reaching through the bars for him, “Don’t leave me here. Please.”

Coriolanus returns back to the cage, taking your hands in his, and kissing them.

“You stayed by my bed. I’ll stay by your cell”.

“Coriolanus. Get me out please”, you beg. You couldn’t stand one more night in the cold cell.

“Tomorrow, my love”, he comforts.

Your hands felt like ice in his hold. He should have come the first night to make sure that you at least had a blanket and pillow. He hadn’t meant for such poor conditions. What if you got sick from the damp, cold cell.

He reaches out to your shoulders. They were cold to touch. His poor sweet girl was cold and hungry. Tomorrow neither of you would be ever again.

He takes off his jacket and passes it through the bars, over your shoulders.

“Lay down”, he requests “When you wake all of this will just be a bad dream”.

You do lie down on the ground, and Coriolanus follows.

He lays down outside of the cell, but puts his hand through to hold yours through the bar.

With his spare hand he rubs your back to provide warmth and comfort until you fall asleep.

He shivers on the floor without his jacket. But it mattered little to him.

You would go back to the Capitol with him tomorrow. From there he would rise from senator to President.

You slept easy next to him. The bars separating your body from his touch. He wanted to hold you. Not only for his own gratification, but to keep you warm through the night. You had become the object of his worry. He had thought that his school-boy anxiety left as he hardened into a man, but he had instead just focused it entirely on you.

He worried that you would get hypothermia from your week in jail. Then his worry took him to your teeth. When was the last time you had got them checked? It was doubtful that there was an adequate dentist at base. He had never heard of one. What about your iron, and calcium levels? Being part of the Capitol charge surely they would ensure you were fed properly. He remembered being amazed at the food given to the Peacekeepers but that was a low bar.

He would get you checked over by his doctor once you got home. Then he would take you out for something nice to eat. Maybe, you would want to watch a show, even if you wanted to go home and lay in bed with him that would be fine too.

He was so close to it all. After this feat, there was nothing stopping his way to the top. He would be president after a term as a senator. You would be first lady. Spend your days shopping, and organizing dinners.

He would pay you back for your kindness at his deathbed. He laughs quietly thinking that it was Lucy-Gray who showed him the path to you.

When you woke the next morning, Coriolanus and his jacket were gone. Instead, a Peacekeeper greeted you by yanking you up from the floor by your arm.

You stumbled as he cuffed you and pushed you forward out of the cell.

It was early morning, but most people were already up to see you being manhandled into a Peacekeeper van.

You had no way of blocking your face to hide your shame. The van had a thin fabric roof, and doors that shut waist height.

People stared as you passed them in the van. People who had known you since you were a little girl stood as you were whisked away as a traitor.

The Peacekeeper took you to the train station as promised where you were taken out of the van by a Capitol Peacekeeper who led you to the right carriage.

Coriolanus stood by the door waiting for you. His shoulders sagged upon seeing your tears. The Peacekeeper hands Coriolanus the keys to your cuffs, stating it was his decision to release you or not.

As soon as the Peacekeeper leaves, he rushes over to you to undo the cuffs.

“Just for appearances” he comments.

“They all looked at me like I was a traitor”, you sobbed.

“When we reach the Capitol we will clear your name”, He promises, coming back to stand in front of you.

“But i’ll never see them again to tell them the truth”.

He brings you into his shoulder to cease the sound of your wailing. He couldn’t see why it mattered so much if they thought you were a traitor. You were right, you would never see them again.

“It’s alright”, he comforts.

You wrap your arms around the back of his shoulders as you cry. After a minute or two Coriolanus could no longer take it. He hated the sound of you crying. He thought he could be a fierce husband, but now he was sure to fold every time you wanted something.

You had slowed enough that he could pull away slightly to look at you. Your eyes were swollen, your cheeks and nose were red. The way you sounded, your nose was blocked from your tears.

“They will know the truth. I’ll ensure it”, he vows. “But until then you’ll just have to settle for me knowing the truth”.

He takes another step away from you, reaching for the bedroom door.

“Me, and him”, he teases.

As the door opens a small, white puppy with a large pink bow around its neck bounces out.

You gasp as you bend down to pat the dog. It jumped up at you, running in circles and then jumping up to place its paws on your knees.

“He’s yours”, Coriolanus says, “You’ll have to name him”.

You wipe away your tears, but your smile is still sad. He would have to work harder to please you.

“He’s beautiful. Thank you”, your voice is small, and hoarse from the crying.

“And there’s a whole wardrobe, and jewelry for you if you want to take a shower”, he offers.

Another misstep from a man so calculated. You rise from the floor with an angry expression.

“I am lucky you were expecting me”, you mocked.

“If I hadn’t been you would be looking at the noose”, Coriolanus spat back.

It was too late to turn back now.

His comment silenced you, and Coriolanus took the opportunity to take your hand and lead you through the bedroom to the bathroom door.

“Come on. You’ll feel better after a shower. Take your time. I’ll wait out in the common area”, he said.

You don’t answer him as you enter the bathroom.

You take a long time to join him in the common room. He had ordered morning tea, and coffee. He felt too uneasy to eat the biscuits, and small sandwiches offered so they were still available for you, but the coffee had long gone cold before you re-entered his presence.

Your hair was dripping down the dress you had put on. There were no shoes on your feet, or jewelry hanging off you. He was glad you were comfortable, but you looked uncared for. Which was not the case.

Your little dog barked upon seeing you which made you smile and say hello. Coriolanus was glad that he decided against passing the dog to the attendants. At least the dog offered an ice breaker.

“Feel better?”, he asks. He stands as you move to sit in the booth.

“Yes, thank you”.

As you sit Coriolanus moves with you. Wedging you between him and the wall.

“Your hair is still wet”, he comments.

A thick napkin is used by him to press the water out the ends of your hair.

“I had no energy to dry it”, you admit.

“Yes, I am sure this has been a lot for you”, he agrees, “but it’s almost over. As soon as we reach the Capitol that’s the end of it”.

He moves the napkin to rub it against the top to absorb moisture. It leaves your hair messy, and frizzy. He tries to fix it, gently clawing his fingernails through to soothe the uncooperative hairs.

“There” he says, “good as new”.

The dog barks as he runs around the room, exploring. Coriolanus wanted to kick it out but he knew it would upset you.

“Are you hungry?”, he asks.

You shake your head ‘no’, and turn from him to look out the window.

He allows you your peace. The dog is too loud. He would have to get it trained, but for now it filled the awkward silence.

Looking for something to do, he straightens the table fixtures. Making sure everything was perfectly in its place.

You lean against the glass instead of on him, which annoyed Coriolanus.

The only time you broke stature was when Coriolanus picked up the dog and placed him in between the seat. He didn’t like it there after he got bored with you and whined to be put down.

Besides that you sat and stared out the window until it became night. He couldn’t get you to eat anything. You had drunk some water which made him worry less, but you wouldn’t speak to him, and he didn’t want to come across needy by constantly talking to you with no response.

He had a speech to write for an upcoming bill proposal which engaged him throughout the day, but night fell and he was ready to connect with you.

He didn’t ask as he tugged you from your seat, and back to the bedroom. You didn’t fight him as he led. Coriolanus kicks the door shut on the yapping dog, hoping it would go to sleep.

You turn to open the door to the dog, but he catches your arms to continue the way into the bedroom closest.

“Given that there are not too many leisurely trips to the districts there is only one suitable bed, so we’ll have to share”, he encourages.

He passes you a nice pair of pajamas to change into which you accept.

‘And when we reach the Capitol. What will be your excuse then?”.

He couldn’t tell if you meant it in a criticizing way. Your voice was light as if it was a joke, but even toned enough to make him consider it as a genuine question.

He tried to appease both possible situations with a humorous answer.

“Bed bugs”.

It earns a scoff in a light hearted manner. His school-boy smile returned to his face like it did when you used to sit by his bed and talk during the night.

You hum before you disappear into the bathroom to change. The smile is still on Coriolanus’s face as he dresses for bed.

He had his joy back after it being ripped from his hands since the dark days.

When you come back out you are silent once more. Your expression had changed to one of deep and unpleasant contemplation.

“Are you okay?”, he asks.

You brush past him without an answer to the door. You find it’s locked but you try and force it open. The force of the door causes the dog to begin his nonsense again.

“What are you doing?” he questions.

You looked dazed as he neared you. He gently takes your elbow and leads you back to the bed.

He lets go of you to toss the pillows around but speaks to keep you focused.

“You nearly died today. You must be feeling all sorts of emotions”.

He remembered how it felt to knock on death's door. He almost feels his scar burn under your watchful gaze.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”, you whisper.

“Pardon?”. He almost coaks upon hearing it. He knew you would figure it out with some distance, but he had planned for you to already be in love. Maybe with a child or two.

“It was you. Who planted that evidence to get me to come with you”, you state it this time round as a fact instead of a question. It made Coriolanus sweat.

“How dare you” he acts astonished, “ After everything I have done for you. How could you suggest that?”.

Something in you registers. You take a look around at the train that raced you to the Capitol. A place you became a stranger to long ago, and a place where he held all the power. There was no getting off this train. Your fate had been sealed.

You smile at him lightly, “I don’t know. I am sorry. Forget it”, you brush off, “Bridge over water”.

He pulls back the covers as he repeats your sentiment “Bridge over water”.

#coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #dead dove do not eat #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the nurse

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hidden-poet · 7 months ago

Text

Commander Snow: 10

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death, sexual assault, child birth, Capitol bullies.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

chapter 9

Chapter 10

The bed you were asleep on felt like a cloud under you.

The bedding was fresh, and smelt slightly of lavender scented washing powder. It held a crispness that could only be given by drying in the sun.

Pillows surrounded you, giving you a sense of security while heavy blankets nearly pinned you to the mattress from their weight.

You slept easy despite your predicament. Only the morning sun, as it streamed through the airy curtains, woke you. Still, you don’t move. Too comfortable, and too tired to face the day.

Coriolanus was not next to you. The large bed was only occupied by yourself. You wondered how long he had been missing, and how much longer he would stay away.

You were in an entirely new world, only he was familiar. And even he had changed. He was President of Panem, not Commander of District 12. His hair was long, and his clothes were fashionable. He even held himself taller and talked slower.

Still, he was what you knew. Your lifeline in an alien world.

Would you change too? You supposed you had.

A District girl, now wife of the President. Soon the weight of the diamond on your hand would become unrecognizable. You would get used to the strange people here. Tigris and Grandma’am would become family and not Capitol enemies.

So quickly, your life was snatched from under you. Everything you have ever known has been replaced. Even the air felt different upon your skin. The people around you ate differently, talked differently, dressed differently. Would anything be left of you? Would you be able to keep anything of your home inside of you?

Your heart hurts to think of your mother and brother. Were you to trust Coriolanus when he said he had released them? He was likely to have had them

released and then shot outside of the gates. How could you ensure their safety? Would he let you call them? What would it cost you?

The quiet turning of the door knob broke your train of thought.

You wondered if it was a maid or Coriolanus but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn and look.

You didn’t want to face either one so you closed your eyes hoping that they would leave you.

Coriolanus did not. He gently shook your shoulder, and you rolled over from your fake sleep.

“Good morning,” he pushes back your hair, tucking it behind your ear, “Did you sleep okay?”

You brush his hand away. Your ring scratches the skin of his hand as you do.

“I have a doctor on standby. Are you in any pain?”

You sit up and surprisingly find very little pain. More tightness from a muscle that had never been used before. You were quite wet already, and he was slow. Allowing you time to adjust.

“I feel fine,” you respond, “What time is it?”

“It’s early. I’m sorry. The sign-in is at noon, so you need to start getting dressed. Just like yesterday, some women are going to come in and help you.”

“The same women?” You hoped not. They were so Capitol. You felt repulsed at the thought of sharing a room with them again.

“I don’t know. Was there a problem with them yesterday?” His Commander's face was put on. A displeased stone expression that made you feel like a scolded child.

“No.” You deny. Your eyes go to your ring that sprays out a pale rainbow from the sunlight.

He pulls your attention back to him with a hold on your chin.

“You’re my wife. First Lady of Panem.”

Him calling you wife made your heart curdle.

“You hold the power over them. If there’s an issue you need to tell me.”

“There was no issue,” you insist.

He doesn’t push you on it.

“They will be here soon. Come outside for breakfast.”

He gives your arm a tap before rising from the bed to retrieve a warm dressing gown from the closet.

It was soft around your body and brought a surprising amount of warmth.

The journey to the dining room table was simple. Just past a long hallway, it opened into the living room, where to the right an elevated platform formed the dining area.

The Snow women were not dressed as casually as you were. Fine dresses and jewels were worn for breakfast.

You looked to Coriolanus to see he was also dressed fashionably and felt embarrassed that he had brought you out in last night's worn make-up and a dressing gown.

The women seemed unbothered to see you.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Tigris greeted you.

“Good morning.” You offer back.

Coriolanus holds out a chair for you amongst the 12 available.

“Did you have a good time last night?” she asks.

You looked at her and saw no vindictiveness in her eyes. It was a genuine question, offered to make you feel at ease.

It was, in fact, the worst night of your life. But you were a stranger at her table, you would not repay her kindness with scorn.

“Yes,” you say instead, “Did you?”

Tigris nods her head, as she pours out coffee from a pot into the small white tea cups.

“Bet you never saw anything like that in the Districts.” Grandma’am quipped.

You weren’t sure if she intended for her comment to be a way of reminding you of your place, or as an encouragement to how great the Capitol could be.

“No, I haven’t.” You agree.

There was food displayed on the table, across a long white cover. Coriolanus picked food from and dropped it onto the gold plate in front of you.

You had no appetite. It was all so ghastly rich. There was no need for this amount of excess.

Coriolanus did not share your off-put. He ate his plate, while you examined the strange contents of yours.

Grandma’am doted on her grandson. Telling stories of his younger years. He always had leadership skills, she said. His presidential future was never in any doubt.

“Even when-” Grandma’am stopped herself, suddenly looking at and pushing her food around on the plate.

You were eager to hear what she had to say. Even when he was sent to be a Peacekeeper? Even when he got involved with Lucy Gray? Was there something else that Coriolanus has kept hidden?

“If only your father could see you now,” she redirects, “Oh he would be so proud.”

“We’re so proud,” Tigris states. Trying to defuse the somber mood.

Coriolanus smiles at Tigris under her praise.

“And you?” he asks, turning to you.

You nod your head, unsure on what he wanted to hear.

“Congratulations, President Snow.” You offer.

“It sounds right, doesn’t it?” Grandma’am squeals.

You wait until the rest of the company has finished their breakfast between idle chatter.

Coriolanus was on his second cup of coffee. His arm slung over the back of your chair, as he sits casually, talking to Tigris.

He leans down to your ear, the second Tigris is occupied with Grandma’am.

“Can you eat something, please? The stylists will be here soon,” he whispers.

His casual demeanor returns as Tigris’s attention does.

You follow his request, taking a bite of some sort of breakfast biscuit. It was fresh, and soft, even stone-cold. You could taste the butter in it. Real butter, not the imitation type found in the Districts.

“I am going to miss you,” Tigris sighed.

“We’re not staying here?” You turn to Coriolanus who had just taken another sip of his drink.

Your stomach fills with knots thinking about a new place. You didn’t want to move.

He swallows quickly, trying to answer you before anyone else.

“No. We’re going to the presidential estate, but we’ll come back and visit. And you're both always welcomed at the Presidential Palace.”

You jump as a ringing sound breaks through the air, looking around to try and see the small bell hidden in the room.

Coriolanus’s hand comes from the back of your chair to the back of your neck. “It’s okay,” he soothes.

He reaches for a panel of buttons built into the table and holds one in.

“Yes?” He answers the call.

“Mr. President, the PR team is here,” a voice spoke back.

“Send them up.” His hand returns from you, back to the chair.

“You don’t have long. Try to have another bite,” he commands.

You finish the breakfast biscuit by the time the two Peacekeepers escort a whole team of people up to the penthouse. It sat heavy in your stomach.

You see the same two women in the group. They stand side by side in ridiculous outfits. The one who had burnt you with a curling iron had a spiky, purple hat that reached tall into the sky.

Two racks of clothing, and four big black boxes on wheels, were carted behind them.

Coriolanus walks to the living room to greet them. They all congratulate him on his win, which he brushes off quickly to talk to the head stylist about the plan for today. They mutter between themselves, and the stylist shows Coriolanus a large book, pointing to the pictures. Coriolanus points down the hall, explaining the layout of the apartment.

The book shuts with a heavy snap, and the stylist turns to his workers directing them to their places.

The team split up behind Coriolanus, as he walked back over to you.

“You’ll go back to the bedroom. I’ll use one of the spares. If there are any problems, you come and find me.” He tells you.

You nod in response, noting that three other women follow the two women from yesterday down the hall.

Coriolanus says goodbye to Grandma’am and Tigris, before leading you back to the bedroom where he lets you go without a word. As he closes the door behind you, the women in the room snap their attention to you.

They all begin talking to you. Not one voice is heard but hands are felt all around you as they pull you into the bathroom.

They bicker amongst themselves on what needs to be done first. You had many faults that needed to be fixed before the signing. Your skin wasn’t tight or dewy enough. You needed a facial, and eyelash lift. Your chipped nails were disgusting. Your hair was dull and lifeless.

You feel vulnerable as hands dig harshly into your clothing, pulling it off your body. As you push hands away, more hands take their place. They call you difficult as you beg them to allow you to do it yourself.

The shower is turned on too hot, you could feel the heat of it standing five feet away.

Stripped, you notice the mess of semen still between your legs. Others notice it too and begin to giggle to themselves. Coriolanus had run a wet towel over you so you could sleep comfortably, but it wasn’t enough.

The shower was boiling as you were pushed under it. Your skin instantly turned red. The women themselves didn’t want to get wet, standing outside of the shower screen, and pulling you by your hair to bring you closer.

One lathers a strong-smelling liquid into your hair without much care, while another scrubs a hard brush against your skin to rid the old skin.

It hurt as it raked across your body without soap. The woman's rings got caught in your hair as she scrubbed your head, it yanked as she pulled back.

With a cry of pain, you are pushed back under the stream of hot water.

You think about running to find Coriolanus, but they are here now. Another team would not be sent. He would only reprimand them, and then you would be left alone with their wrath.

You sob instead. You should be at home. It was Wednesday. You were pretty sure. You should be at work, making idle chatter with your co-workers.

“Wash it out!” The woman commands, “We don’t have much time.”

Trying to appease her, you do a quick rinse under the water.

“All of it,” she sighs.

‘'The water’s too hot,’’ you cry. You felt like a cornered animal.

She looks at her co-workers annoyed. “Turn the water down,” she commands.

The water is turned ice-cold but you make no further complaint.

Another round of the strong-smelling liquid is harshly rubbed into your hair, and a nice-smelling lotion is rubbed into your skin.

The cold water makes you shiver as you stand under it, trying to wash everything off you.

The water is turned off leaving you standing shivering in the shower.

“Come on” the women demanded, “hurry”.

You go to her, and she throws a towel at you. It helps to dry the cold water off you, bringing back a little warmth.

They watch you as you dry yourself making you feel self conscious. The attempt to cover yourself with the towel is ripped from you, and thrown to the floor. You are once again being pushed instead of asked to do something.

You were laid flat on a table they had brought. Bare under their eye. Nothing was given so you could cover yourself.

Five women stand above you and begin work.

You close your eyes trying to dissociate from everything. A mask is put on your face, leaving space around your eyebrows so they can be waxed. Another oil is put on your hair and skin.

You could hear the buzzing of the laser and feel its zap as it took the hair off your body. She scaled the length of you with the laser, paying extra attention to your most private parts.

Only a reprimand was spoken to you as tears ran down your face. You were wasting the product with your tears.

For a long time, you laid still against the table as they worked. Your body became sore and stiff before they told you to get up and into the bedroom.

It was there you were given back your dressing gown and placed in front of a vanity.

The women talk amongst themselves as they work. Not one of them asks you anything. You tune them out, thinking about home.

It felt overstimulating to have so many people working on you at once. Someone cut your hair, while the other women took one hand or one leg. They massage more oil into your skin, before shaping and painting your nails. Your ring is given a shine, and they speak about how beautiful it was.

You feel their jealousy as they work. Your fingers were twisted into unnatural positions as they were filed. Your hair was pulled ruthlessly as it was cut. One woman stepped on your toes as she rose from the floor for some polish.

In your head, you were at home, baking for your market stall. Your mother would keep you company in the kitchen, reading a letter from your brother. He had found someone. A nice girl, who treats him well. He wasn’t lonely anymore and had plenty to eat. Edmund was alive, and you would see him when he finished work. He would be joyed at the news that his best friend found a girl, and after dinner that night you would sit with him and draft a letter explaining your new relationship.

It was a surprise when they all stopped to address the President.

You turn to see Coriolanus standing in the doorway with a large mug in his hands. He had been taken from his clothes this morning and undressed into a white singlet. He had no shoes on his feet, and his dress pants still had pins in them from the tailoring.

“It’s time for a break,” he announced. His hair appeared to be cut back, and slightly curled more. His skin glowed with treatment.

You had never been thankful to see him until that moment. A tear slipped from your eye and you quickly wiped it away.

“Sir, we still have lots to do,” one of the stylists said.

“Leave the room,” he commanded.

Tools are dropped as they follow his request.

The five women pass him through the door, and he kicks it closed as the last one leaves.

You get up from the vanities chair with a headache from all the pulling.

“I came to check on you. Are you okay?” he says.

The tea in his hands was a welcomed surprise. The hot shower had dehydrated you, and your crying left your throat scratchy. You take it from him and take three large gulps.

He takes your waist into his hands once they are free from the cup.

“Yeah,” you lie. Your voice was quiet and broken from having not spoken for a long period of time.

The tea was hot, burning your throat as you drank it, but it was good. You broke away from his hold, going to sit on the ottoman by the bed. He followed you as you sat.

Certain parts of your head felt like they were burning from the harsh treatment, You reached up to soothe the sore spots. Coriolanus’s hands follow yours. You knock them away, wanting nothing more than not to be touched.

He moves onto the bed behind you, sitting with either leg by your sides. His strong fingers reach into your hair and massage your scalp. It felt nice as his fingers dug into your head so you allowed him to do it.

You lean back into him, the hot cup burning your lap.

“Do you want to tell me something?” he gently asks.

His fingers press into a very sore spot on your head, causing you to wince and pull forward out of his hold.

He doesn’t let you sit up, pulling you back by your shoulders into him. His fingers go back to your hair once more, but he rakes his nails through your hair instead of pushing in.

He rakes his nails in a continuous backward motion, soothingly as he talks.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. That shouldn’t have hurt.”

A gentle kiss is placed against your ear.

“Are you alright? Do you want me to stay? I’ll stay.” He offers.

You think about it. The women would surely be kinder with Coriolanus in the room. But you didn’t want to admit you needed him. Worse, you didn’t want to feel indebted to him. After all, it was because of him you were going through this.

You get up from him once more, and he allows you to create distance as you go back to the vanity set.

“Leave me alone, Coriolanus,” you demanded.

You wipe the tears harshly away from your face, and he sits there watching you.

A gentle knock is heard at the door. Coriolanus rises to answer it.

“Come in,” he orders.

The women single file in, past him. Only he stops the women who had been barking orders at everyone all day.

You watch him in the mirror as he brings his hand down across her face.

A gasp leaves your lips as you watch her fall to the ground from the force.

“I entrusted her to you. If you make me regret it, I’ll make you regret it,” he warns, staring down at her with eyes that spoke of his anger.

He steps over her and back to his room.

“What did you say?” the woman in the purple hat hisses at you.

“Nothing,” you admit, “I said nothing. I promise.”

The woman who was hit gathers herself from the floor, coming over to you and pinching the skin on your arm between her long, fake nails.

“Well say less.” she rasped.

“It wasn’t my fault. He’s like that,” you contend, rubbing the skin she had pinched.

“Maybe to District scum, but not to us.”

“Your red cheek would suggest otherwise,” you sass.

It earns you a harsh tug on your hair as it is yanked to one side.

“Just do as you are told and face forward,” she spat.

She spins you by your hair towards the mirror. No more tears fall from your eyes, but a satisfied smirk stretches across your lips. The moment had made you feel powerful.

While their nail files dug into your skin, and your hair was gripped too tightly just to be cut, they no longer spoke. Coriolanus had scared them into silence.

A few moments later he reappears with his own styling crew as they struggle to bring everything they need into the room.

He sets up next to you, and under the watchful eye of Coriolanus, your stylists turn gentle. With your body done, they move to your hair and make-up.

The large room is crowded with all the people and equipment. The head stylist tries to persuade Coriolanus back to his own room, but he would hear none of it.

As your hair is curled and pinned into a loose bun, the iron used slipped slightly from her hands as she pinned. It burnt behind your ear, causing you to jump from the hot touch, but no sound escaped you.

Coriolanus noticed anyway.

“Be careful. Watch what you are doing”, he reprimanded.

“Yes, President Snow” the woman apologizes.

With a spray all over your hair, the woman steps back to admire her work.

“Alright. We are fifteen minutes behind schedule. We need to get her in her dress”, the woman with the red cheek called out.

Coriolanus was done. Only one stylist was there with him, shining his shoes.

They lead you to the bathroom with a dress bag.

As soon as the door was closed, one of the stylists who had remained quiet all morning began to speak.

“Yes, President Snow,” she mocked.

“Shut up,” the hair stylist barked.

The dress was pulled from the bag without a wrinkle.

It was a sweetheart, white satin, strapless gown. The bodice had pearls strung along it, and it curved up in the middle into a line of pearls.

It was matched with a pair of white heels with pearl straps and a jacket of the same material that was only meant to go around your shoulders and not to be worn, you learned.

The shoulders of the jacket clipped into the dress so it didn’t move.

“There,” the head woman snapped, “You’re done.”

You quickly rushed from her presence, back out to the bedroom where Coriolanus stood alone.

You turn back as you walk to him, expecting the woman to come from the bathroom. But they never do.

He takes you into his arms, gaining your attention from the door

“You look beautiful,” he comments.

He did too, but you wouldn’t admit it. He wore black instead of white, but his shirt and pocket square matched the material of your dress.

“Thank you,” you reply.

A slight squeak of the bathroom door had you pulling back. You would hate for them to see you so cozy in his arms. But the door never opens.

Coriolanus pulls you tight against him again, leaning down to whisper something to you.

“Do you want me to have them killed?” He asks.

“No,” you say, astonished that he could think of no other solution.

“It’s up to you,” he states, “Come on. We are late.”

He leads you back to the living room where Tigris and Grandma’am stood waiting amongst the stylists packing up.

“Give us time to settle in before you come to visit,” Coriolanus spoke to his family. He leans his tall frame down to kiss each of them.

“Of course,” Tigris answered. After she had kissed him, she moved over to you. Wrapping her arms around your shoulder, and placing a kiss on the corner of your head.

“We’ll see each other again soon,” she promises.

You smile back at her before she is replaced with Grandma’am. The older woman's hug is shorter and less affectionate.

With a final goodbye, you follow Coriolanus and a series of Peacekeepers to the elevator and down to the car park.

A sleek black car was waiting. A driver held out the back door, and Coriolanus placed you in the car first.

The Peacekeepers piled into a large truck. Only one sat in the front of your car with the driver.

The divider was raised so you couldn’t see them, but you could have sworn you had seen the Peacekeeper before. You wondered if Coriolanus had brought back men from District 12.

The car ride passed through the city. You had never seen such buzz. Colors and colors flew past you. Buildings that reached the sky gleamed. Tall statues were littered across the drive. You counted seven, and a possible eighth that flew past too fast to see more than a gray figure.

You wanted to put the window down for a better view as the tint from the window dulled some of the colors. But Coriolanus denied your request. The wind would undo the work done on your hair, and it was important that you arrived looking your best. He had promised to take you out again later with the windows down.

When you arrived at the presidential estate, it was surrounded by supporters of Coriolanus holding banners and sticks with a picture of Coriolanus’s face attached. They waited outside of the tall gates guarded by peacekeepers.

As the car passed them, screams and cheers deafened you.

It got worse when you entered the gates, the screaming was matched with flashes of white light.

Coriolanus was unbothered by it all. His focus is all on the approaching building in front of him.

The building was grand, surrounded by meticulously kept gardens. Large Panem flags hung on flag poles on either side of the staircase that led to the entrance. A line of staff stands at the top of the staircase. All of them were dressed in expensive white material that formed around their bodies in a long coat, and pants. Gold detailing was added to the stitches and a gold pin fashioned into the Panem symbol was pinned across their chest to keep their jacket closed.

Even the servants dressed nicer than the high society of District 12. They looked better fed too.

The car stopped as close as it could to the stairs and Coriolanus turned to you, taking your hand in his.

“Stay close to me. People are excited and that can cause them to act mindless.”

The door is opened by a Peacekeeper and Coriolanus leads you along the slim path through the sea of people.

People reach out to touch him, yelling out to gain his attention. But his mind stayed focused on the approaching building. A look of smug satisfaction and determination played across his features. You must have looked terrified as you followed him.

These people looked like animals. They frenzied around you with only a few Peacekeepers to keep them in check.

You stay as close as you can to Coriolanus, taking the back of his shirt into your spare hand.

The path ends as it comes to the bottom of the step. Coriolanus reaches his hand back to release you from his shirt, bringing you to stand by him as you climb the steps.

One woman in an all-black ensemble stood out in front of the line of staff. She greeted Coriolanus as he reached her on the steps.

“President Snow, an honor to serve you as your head of staff.”

She reached out her right hand but his right hand was latched around yours. He was hesitant to let it go.

She pauses when he doesn’t react but quickly switches out hands which Coriolanus accepts in a handshake.

Upon realizing your importance to him, she turns to you in a curtsy.

“And you, Mistress.”

The crowd cheers once more for President Snow. White roses are thrown from the crowd, falling on the road and upon the bottom of the stairs.

Peacekeepers push back against the crowd. Things were not to be thrown at the President.

“A pleasure. Perhaps we should get inside before the crowd decides to see how close they can get.” Coriolanus suggests.

The woman steps back, nodding her head quickly and too many times.

“Of course. If you would follow me, I will take you to the signing.”

The rest of the staff remain on the steps as you and Coriolanus follow the woman.

The loudness of the crowd was shut out from the big, heavy doors. It offered you two seconds of relief before taking in the vastness of the house.

The floors were polished and matched the furniture. A big lush thick carpet was laid out to add some warmth to the room. It was dark red and had cream accents that splayed out in intricate designs. The entryway must have been 50 feet in width and length but the red carpet covered nearly all of it.

Both you and Coriolanus looked around in wonder. Only Coriolanus was better at hiding his amazement. He acted indifferent as the women explained the history of the house. But you could see his eyes linger on the expensive and well-decorated decor of the house.

Staircases were everywhere, leading up and down in all different forms of design. The house was too big. It would be easy for a person to get lost but the woman led you without stumbling.

You wonder about her. How long had she been here? Was it a choice to serve the house?

She didn’t seem scared or upset. There were no marks upon her cream skin suggesting a lifetime of servitude. She wore make-up, and her thick, black hair was styled fashionably. But looks could be deceiving in the Capitol.

They liked to hide behind their fine things and sharp appearances.

She leads you into a large office. The original flag of Panem hung framed behind a large desk. The dirt and blood that had gathered on it during the war blotted the bright colors.

Only five reporters were allowed into the room, amongst a few other important people. They all greeted Coriolanus with a firm handshake. Only one reporter was female, and she towered over the men, assisted by her six-inch heels. She looks at your ring, and you notice an absence of one on hers.

She was too smart to get trapped by the Capitol men.

Coriolanus thanked them for being here with his dazzling smile while you stood behind him mute, and useless.

The women who brought you in interrupted the polite conversation between the group.

“President Snow, it is custom to sit in the chair while signing,” she directed.

“Yes,” Coriolanus obliged, leading you behind the large oak desk.

You tug your hand from him as he sits. They wanted him, not you.

A dark green plush couch with colorful cushions called out to you. You needed to sit as your legs felt like jelly.

“President Snow, did you want the picture with or without your First Lady?” The woman reporter asked as she readied her camera.

“With.” Coriolanus beckoned you closer but your legs would not cooperate.

You stood until the head of staff pushed you forward.

“Alright, dear, you stand behind your husband and don’t forget to smile. Big smile!” She commands.

You are thankful that her hands moved you into position. The referral to Coriolanus as your husband froze you. She told you once more to smile which activated your lips into a thin smile.

“Okay, Mr. President when you’re ready,” one of the male reporters called.

The cameras flash blinding you as Coriolanus signs his name on the parchment.

His signature is a series of neat loops finished by a long line that curled underneath his name.

It was official. Coriolanus Snow would now rule over Panem. With the hopes that it was over, you go to move back out of the camera frames but it only caught the attention of the journalists.

“Mrs. Snow, how about a kiss for the President?” One of the reporters called out. The comment frenzied the rest who shouted out encouragements.

Coriolanus turns out to you in his chair, permitting you to follow the command.

So you do. Bending down to his height and placing a kiss on his lips. He steadies you with a hand on the side of your face so that the kiss deepens.

The cameras liked that. You pull away, but Coriolanus' hand keeps you in place.

His thumb brushes against the lipstick that had smudged getting rid of it before wiping his hand over his mouth.

A make-up artist comes over to him, helping him to rid the lipstick off his face and reapplying power from a compact.

“Okay, can we get a shot of just the President staring down the lens with the flag in the background?” The woman once more directs.

You move quickly out of the way as the journalists kneel on the floor for the shot, and point their cameras up.

You find comfort on the couch and watch as Coriolanus is directed for the magazine shots.

When he is not directed to stare into a camera his eyes are on you, making sure that you are still in the room.

A deep regret sets on your posed photos. You should have said no. Coriolanus would be too cautious to correct you in front of what constituted the entirety of Panem. You could have gotten away with it. Now your family was sure to see the photos of you happily smiling behind him. Kissing him, with a diamond ring on your finger.

What would Edmund's family think? Your own family would think of you as a traitor. What would the family who lost everything due to you think? Edmund was keeping them afloat. How would they get by now? Would your brother take care of them as Edmund took care of his family? Would they accept the help of a traitor's brother?

Coriolanus stands from the desk in front of the reporters.

“As you can imagine, yesterday was a long day. If you are satisfied with the photos I would like to settle in with my new wife.”

“Of course, Mr. President,” was the resounding response.

He comes to collect you on the couch as the head of staff briefs the people in the room on what is to happen now.

“No one is to leave this room. Peacekeepers will come and escort you out. You and your equipment will be searched before you are released back to your firm. The President thanks you for your time and service to your country.”

Coriolanus brings your arm to loop through his as you follow the woman back out into the vast space of the house.

She takes you up a large, twin staircase back at the main entrance of the house, and along a corridor lined with a long carpet. At the very end came a double-door entrance that stretched from the very bottom, all the way to the top.

This was the President's quarters. She unlocks the door with a key that was passed to Coriolanus, and swings open the doors so you can see the space.

Another enormous space was filled with plush rugs and expensive furniture. Back home a house consisted of the bare necessities. In the Capitol, they had space for every activity and filled it with unnecessary furniture.

A breakfast nook, a long dinner table, a sitting area, a living room, a walk-in coat closet, two full bathrooms, a tall wine fridge, and a set-up bar were all contained within the floor. A staircase that led up suggested that there was more to the living space.

The woman asks if she can do anymore, but Coriolanus assures her there is nothing to be done but rest now.

She shows Coriolanus a button he could push to call for a servant before bidding him goodbye.

He was quick to shut the door behind her as you wandered into the apartment.

“What do you think?” He asks.

“People live like this?” You run a hand over a soft blanket draped over the couch.

“I never have,” he admits.

From a war-ruined boy, to a Peacekeeper, to Commander of District 12, Coriolanus lived far from the luxury of the Capitol.

He got nights of Capitol living when he came to visit from District 12 but his home had always been rat-infested slums.

“It’ll feel more like home when you settle in, and make it your own.”

“It’ll never feel like home,” you remark snidely.

Coriolanus picks up a small decorative statue and examines it.

“Well not your home back in District 12, but your home in the Capitol.”

He places the statue back down and holds out his hand for you to take.

“Shall we see upstairs?”

Upstairs was as impressive as down. Six spare bedrooms each with their own bathrooms and ready for guests, a sizable private study that conjoined to a lavish sleeping arrangement.

You open the doors to your closet to find that it already had been filled with clothing. A pair of comfortable-looking pants and a singlet call out to you, and you ask Coriolanus if you could change.

He gives you permission, telling you that he was going to look around the estate but he would be back soon.

The bathroom had heated tiles which helped to keep you warm as you tried to figure out the shower. There was a pad with buttons that had too many commands to work.

You finally figure it out with pure luck and a heavy stream of water shoots out from the shower head.

You shower off the make-up and hair spray. Some glitter that had been dusted on your skin had to be scrubbed off which left you red, and pruny from the time it took.

Another battle to turn off the water, before you could reach for a white fluffy towel off the rack. It was warm too from the heated rack.

With Coriolanus gone, you explored the room. Everything was set up as if you already lived here.

You find a book about the history of Panem in the bookcase and flick through it. It talked about the Dark Days. How District people were dangerous and out to ruin Capitol life.

Large black and white pictures taken during the war were displayed in large form across the page. The Capitol during the war looked like District 12 now.

The next page showed a photo of rebels being lined up to be shot. The page after that had a photo of a man. A general during the war. The name shocked you.

General Crassus Snow. He looked a little like Coriolanus. Same blonde hair and blue eyes, but without the name, you wouldn’t have known.

A hero they called him. It turned out Coriolanus wasn’t lying to you when he said his father was killed in 12. You wondered how that must have felt for him, to go back there and rule over the place that left him fatherless.

A little blurb read that Crassus Snow was known to have an excellent head for strategy and nerves of steel. With a commanding presence that rose him quickly through the military ranks before he was cowardly killed in an ambush.

Coriolanus had followed in his father’s footsteps. The page could have been Coriolanus' autobiography.

Your fingers trace the photo of the man standing tall in his uniform. If he was alive, you doubt he would have let Coriolanus get involved with you. But he wasn’t, and you were here, trapped in the Capitol, while he was buried somewhere in District 12.

You continue with the book, scoffing as they skew history to fit their narrative. War was never one-sided.

You hear him as he enters the study. The door was heavy and loud.

Expecting him to appear, you continue flipping through the pages of the book.

But time passes with no appearance.

You finish the book and go to find out what he is doing.

Taking the side door, you could see his back as it faced a large painting on the far wall. You knew from school that the picture was of the past President Ravenstill.

He gazes at the portrait with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Coriolanus?” You call. It breaks his concentration, and he unhooks himself from his rigid posture to extend his hand out to you. But he never faces away from the painting.

You rush to accept his hand, looking up at the painting with him. There was nothing special about it. An oil painting that depicted a hateful man in a powerful position.

But something about it captivates Coriolanus.

“Are you alright?” you ask. His broody eyes normally meant bad things for you.

“You see this?” He bends his forehead to your level and points to a faint scar on the top corner of his head.

“During the war, I went looking for scraps around the Presidential palace. I found a great big bucket full of half-eaten bones with meat still on them just sitting there over the fence, so I reached my hand in to try and get one. I was found by a Peacekeeper who informed me that the President said they were for his dogs and left me with a scar from the butt of his rifle.”

He looks away from you and back to the painting. You were grateful for it. There was a darkness in his eyes that scared you.

“Now I am the man in the palace,” he mutters.

“I am sorry that happened to you.”

He smiles at your words. Pity was something he wanted from no one but you.

“You can do a lot of good, Coriolanus,” you temper with a squeeze to his hand.

He nods his head in agreement, “I will. The Capitol will flourish under me.”

“You could do good in the Districts too. You saw the disadvantages there.”

His grip around your hand tightened, and his jaw locked in place. The painting was no longer of any interest. You now bore his intense stare.

“I saw a bunch of animals clawing at each other to get ahead. You should be thankful that I saved you.”

“Saved me?” You questioned.

He had not saved you from a burning building but taken you from your bed at night.

“It wouldn’t have been long before the animals tore into you.”

The hold on your hand loosens and he takes a step back from you.

“I’ll ring down for lunch.” He disappears from the room, leaving you in front of the painting. That night it was replaced with one of Coriolanus. The painting of him was still wet but hung proudly in the room.

The next morning after a luxurious breakfast you went straight back to bed and stayed there until Coriolanus returned home.

You had no idea if he locked the door on his way out, you never checked. There was nothing out there for you. No family or friends to shield you in their arms. No familiar faces, or sense of community.

Tigris and Grandma’am visited on the weekend, wanting to be shown around. But you only knew the bed, and Coriolanus spent too many hours at the official office downstairs to know the little details of the apartment. The head of staff was called again to show the group around the property. It took nearly half an hour to explore the place.

Grandma’am was too old to do that much walking but she wouldn’t slow down. She had dreamt about this day, longer than Coriolanus had. She held on to him as he assisted her in walking, and you held her handbag.

They stayed for coffee and cake which delighted Coriolanus. You spoke very little, even as Tigris tried to coax a conversation out of you. The crushing weight of defeat was hindering your ability to be social.

When they left, you got an earful from Coriolanus, who was disappointed in your behavior. All was forgiven, however, when the lights turned off and you were alone in bed with him.

The staff thought it was odd when you insisted that you would do the cleaning and cooking for yourself and Coriolanus. He took great pride in it. Feeling as if it was a testimony of your love. But in truth, your days were so much longer without it.

Sometimes there were visitors from the Academy or acquaintances from high society. Grandma’am and Tigris came over consistently but most of the time you were left completely alone.

For a brief period, while the facilities for you to cook and clean were installed, you lived back in the Snow Penthouse.

You enjoyed other company besides Coriolanus. One night after he was finished with you, you asked him if home could be here instead of the Presidential Palace.

He gave a laundry list of reasons as to why that wouldn’t be possible. The Presidential Palace was safer. It was the place where the President and the First Lady were supposed to live. Besides he didn’t want Tigris, and Grandma’am around while he adjusted to married life. You knew it all boiled down to the fact he simply didn’t want to.

—------------------

The night you return to the Presidential Palace, he comes to bed with a stack of papers.

“Look,” he leans closer to you, holding out a bit of paper that you couldn’t read under the sporadic flashes of light from the Tv.

“My first official act as President. Schools will now provide breakfast and lunch free of charge for every school student.”

“I thought children in the Capitol never had to worry about food”.

“Some do,” he responds, “There are poorer and richer classes in the Capitol too. Not to the extent of the Districts, but we have our own troubles in the Capitol.”

The Capitol people, no matter how poor, were not treated like animals, and terrorized by a militant group. They were still Capitol, and thus worthy of respect.

“And university is free for those in the top 10% of their cohort. I’ll make the announcement first thing tomorrow morning.”

“That’s wonderful” you praise, although you cared little for the new change.

He felt as if the bill would rewind the clock. Damn the Hunger Games, and the Plinth Prize. If he could bury the mistakes of his past, they never happened.

—----------------

Coriolanus grew desperate for a baby after his first month of presidency. He wished he had gotten you pregnant back in District 12 so he could have a baby halfway through his first term. But he didn’t dwell on the past when he could focus on the future.

He tried desperately every night to put a baby in you, but nothing stuck.

He grew worried that time in the Districts had made you barren. After a very uncomfortable examination by a doctor who assured him that you were able to bear children, but simply have not.

The thought of children made you feel sick. You had no idea how you would manage it on top of everything. You did not want his children, but how could you stop him? He was the one who decided your future.

Every morning he would wait outside of the bathroom door for you to do a test. You would bring a negative result back, and his face would sag.

His frustration was rough in form. Since election night, fun was the only objective for Coriolanus. But as his want for a child grew, teasing and pleasing you were secondary to his need. Again and again, in the same night, he would manhandle you in positions he thought were best. They left him with a sore wife and no baby to show for it.

A doctor had suggested that extreme stress can disrupt the ovulation cycle making it difficult to plan strategic timing of sex. This had annoyed Coriolanus greatly. You went on only a few official obligations in which you stayed by Coriolanus. You were fed, clothed, and rested. There was no extreme stress in your life that would hinder you from his baby.

You verbally agreed with his rant but laughed in private at his delusional hissy fit.

Every night when he was finished, he would sleep thinking tomorrow he would wake with good news.

One day he did. He was getting ready to go down to the office, waiting for you to present him with the test.

You expect the same as before, but as you expect the test, you notice an instant difference.

Scrambling for the box, you check the instructions. A cold shot through you as you looked back to see the indication of pregnancy.

In hope you take another one.

Coriolanus knocks on the door, telling you he has to leave soon.

You don’t care, you stare at the test waiting for a negative result.

It appeared the same as the other.

Coriolanus calls out again. On auto-pilot, you unlock the door and show him the test. He knew from your expression that it was positive but he looks anyway.

He kisses you deeply, but you can’t move against him. You were going to be a mother. Die nursing Coriolanus’s babies.

“A baby,” he says joyously. He brings his hand to your stomach and smiles, “A Snow.”

He ushers you back into bed, and calls for a maid to come tend to you while he is at work. All day you only move to throw up once.

The maid annoys you all day by asking you to do things. You just wanted to cry in bed without an audience.

As soon as the news was announced, floods of gifts came piling into the apartment. Designer clothes, a gold crib, flowers, and chocolate were sent for you. You threw them all out.

Every day you spend organizing and putting away presents only for more to come.

If you had thought your life was miserable before pregnancy, your life was unbearable while you were pregnant. Coriolanus was anxious about losing the baby.

The whole nine months at breakfast each morning a doctor checked for any complications. It made it difficult to eat which frustrated you as you woke every morning with great hunger. Only to throw it up again by mid-morning.

You were young and healthy so the pregnancy was low risk. Due to the rations in the Districts, your iron was low, but with your meals now being made by qualified chefs and nutritionists it quickly came back up to an acceptable level.

Coriolanus insisted that everything was a risk. Cooking over a hot stove, or bending to clean. You came to work with him like you did at the Compound. It was then you realized that he was more worried about you self-sabotaging the pregnancy than he was about the chemicals in cleaning products.

You grew big and uncomfortable. With the hormones raging in your body you would cry randomly during the day. One time when Tigris came to drop off the baby clothes she had made you, Coriolanus insisted she stayed for tea in the garden.

It was a beautiful day, and you had company other than Coriolanus. It was one of your better days. But upon seeing a dead baby bird at the edge of the garden, you began to cry uncontrollably.

You resisted Coriolanus' hold as he shouted for the bird to be taken away. The scene greatly shocked Tigres who quickly left when Coriolanus returned you to your room.

In addition to the mood swings, your baby kicked all day long giving you little rest. It took a toll on your appearance, leaving you looking half-dead.

Everywhere you turned someone was handing you a pillow and a blanket or offering you food. You felt like the main attraction at a circus. The only good thing about the pregnancy was that no meant no.

Coriolanus was far more respectful of your boundaries. All you had to put up with was his interactions with his unborn child. He liked to speak to it in your stomach and feel it kick. On daily walks for the baby's health, he would hold the bump as he accompanied you around the grounds. He was excited to be a father but you were terrified of being a mother in an entirely different world than your own.

Both you and Coriolanus attended parenting classes to help with the transition. Even raising babies was different in the Capitol. Mothers were not supposed to leave the house for 40 days after the birth. District women went back to work before the week was out.

The teachers talked about safe sleeping practices in a cot, District babies slept in a basket cushioned with rags.

Special food was designed for every stage of toddler life here. Babies back home ate what was available.

The classes made you grateful that your child was Capitol. At least you could give them a happy, comfortable life.

Coriolanus would ensure the best for his child that you were sure of.

—--------

Nine months passed quickly. One early morning you woke up in a great deal of pain. Coriolanus was still asleep next to you. You knew the baby was ready to come, but you were not ready for the baby.

You try to delay the baby. The midwife said you had another week.

A hot bath stops the pain for a little while, but the sound of running water wakes Coriolanus. You’re in the bath for thirty minutes before he rises from bed to join you.

He doesn’t knock as he enters. There was a time when you would have tried to cover up, but those days were long gone.

Coriolanus kneels by the bathtub and places a hand on your rounded stomach.

“Kicking, is he?” Coriolanus asks.

“Yeah. Something like that,” you state.

“He’s just excited to be here next week.”

As if it was a call to action, your stomach begins to contract painfully tight. You wince, trying hard to keep a sound from coming out.

“Are you alright?” He asks with concern.

“Yes. Can you help me out of the tub?”

The plug is pulled by twisting a round knob to your left, and the water drains quickly.

He helps you out of the tub gently, wrapping you in a towel and helping you walk to your wardrobe.

All of your pregnancy clothes were loose dresses that fell down to your ankles. You picked a light blue one but as the fabric fell around your body, your stomach gave a harsh twist. It felt as if your stomach muscles were being pulled from your stomach.

You feel Coriolanus place a hand on your back.

“I’ll call for the doctor,” he says.

The doctor and his nurses had been moved into the presidential palace for the pregnancy. Coriolanus wanted to be sure that if anything went wrong, a team of experts was at hand.

“No,” you moan, “He’s just moving that’s all.”

The next contraction had you yelling and kneeling over in pain.

“Is he coming?” His voice carried an excitement that could only be found in a person not about to give birth.

“To the bed,” he demands, “Come on.”

The team is quickly called up, bringing with them scary-looking machines. Your doctor had previously explained what they did and how he would deliver the baby. But none of it mattered now. You were terrified.

Coriolanus only left your side to get dressed. The labor was nearly fourteen hours, during which Coriolanus held your hand and waited for the contractions to get closer together.

He tried his best to make you comfortable. Hard pillows were brought in for you so you could sit up, and he held a water bottle close, ready for you.

As you enter the second stage of labor, the pain intensifies as your body gets ready for the push. Your fear spikes, knowing that a baby would soon be placed in your care.

“No, no,” you mutter. This wasn’t supposed to be like this, You were supposed to be married to the love of your life, and have your mother to coach you through this.

“You’re alright, darling. He is almost here,” Coriolanus dabbed an ice-cold rag over your forehead as he spoke.

“No,” you state more forcibly, “I want my mother.”

“Mrs. Snow, you need to start pushing,” the doctor instructs. Your body pushes automatically, causing a painful groan to resound around the room.

Coriolanus gives you words of encouragement but they buzz in your ear. The sound of your mother's name coming from your lips was the only thing you heard.

“You don’t need her. Just keep going.” He soothes.

You scream at the pain. The room felt as if it was on fire around you, but you knew it was cold outside. The world began to blur, the beeping of the machines and talk of the medical team lapped.

You look towards the doorway as your body begins to push again. You swear you see your mother peeking in.

“Mum!” you scream, “Mum, please, don’t leave me.”

“No, No.” Coriolanus consoles.

“No. Coriolanus, I want my mother. Where’s my brother?” You ask in a state of panic that brings tears to your eyes.

“Mrs. Snow, push.” The doctor bids.

“No!” you scream back, “Not without my mum.”

“Mrs. Snow, this baby is coming. You don’t have time,” the doctor says.

“Push,” Coriolanus tells you.

“Please, Coriolanus, please,” you beg. All you wanted was to see her. If he didn’t want you to speak that would be fine. You just needed to see your mother as you delivered your first child.

“What have you done?” You sob, looking at his worried face.

“I haven’t done anything,” he defends, “You need to start pushing.”

Pain ripples through your body and you push to ease it.

Three big pushes that burn, and suddenly the pressure in your stomach is gone.

A loud cry fills the room, in constellation with your heavy panting.

The crying buddle is brought to you by the doctor, but you push his hands away. One peak at his light blonde hair had you feeling sick. He was supposed to have dark hair like Edmund’s. He was supposed to be Edmund’s child.

Instead, the child was given to Coriolanus who accepted him into his arms.

“Coriolanus, where is my mother?” You ask.

“She’s not here. You know that,” he answers.

Still, you scream for her to save you.

“Commander Snow, please! Just let me see her,” you beg.

He looks down at you puzzled, with the screaming child in his arms.

Despite feeling as if you had been hit by a train, you attempt to rise which is discouraged by everyone in the room.

Coriolanus steps forward to stop you, but won’t release his hands from his son.

You feel the pressure from the nurses on your shoulder as they press you back into the mattress.

“Sir, can I administer a sedative to calm her?” a nurse asks.

Coriolanus nods at the nurse, and she inserts a needle into your IV drip.

“Get off. No!” You try to tug against the IV connection, but your hands are pinned down.

“Mum!” you shout, “Archie!”

The sedative works fast. You soon find yourself unable to hold your head up. The fight kicked out from under you.

You watch as Coriolanus holds tight to the small blanket.

“Commander, please.” You mumble, but hear no response as you slip into a deep sleep.

—-----------

When you wake it feels as if each limb has been torn from your body, and you have been hastily stitched together again.

The room is blurred but your eyes are opened. You could feel their sting as you failed to blink.

You had a son, you think, but where is he? Why can’t I hear him crying?

With newfound motivation you will yourself to get your bearings.

Your muscles move at your control once more, and your eyes focus on the lamp on the table.

As you regain control, you hear footsteps by the end of the bed. Your head rolls on the pillow to see Coriolanus as he stands over a bassinet, still for a second, before he reaches down and picks up your baby, wrapped tightly and swaddled.

You wanted to call out and demand that he place your baby back down but you were still hazy from the drugs. You're too slow to gain back your voice.

He sits in a nearby rocking chair with the baby tightly in his arms, beginning to rock gently as he gazes down at the small bundle.

The baby fusses slightly but is soon soothed back to sleep.

Seeing your baby in no harm, you try and sit up

“Coriolanus,” you call. His eyes shoot up to watch you as you rise into a sitting position but go back to your baby as he speaks.

“Take it easy. He’s okay,” he consoles.

“Is he healthy?” You ask.

Coriolanus smiles down at his son, as he rocks back and forth.

“He’s perfect. I’ve named him, Crassus Alexander Snow, after my father.”

You hate that your son is named after the man in the book. You hate that Coriolanus has named him without your approval. Your son wasn’t a doll for him to play with. He had taken enough from you, now it felt as if he was after your son too.

“You named him?” Your voice was hard with your displeasure.

“I had to. The nurses needed a name. Don’t worry you can have the next one.”

The next one. Not even 24 hours after an excruciating labor, and he was talking about the next one.

Looking around, you see that you only felt like you had just given birth. The machines, apart from your IV drip next to you, had been taken back. The bed was fresh under you, and you had been changed into comfortable pajamas.

You lean back into the bed, silent. This was not how you pictured your first child. You wanted your mother and brother to see him.

You picture seeing them again. Just one last time to say goodbye.

The thought of it makes you break the silence you otherwise never would have broken.

“Coriolanus, do you think I could write to my mother to let her know I had a child?” You ask quietly.

He is quiet which worries you. Your mother would know when the Capitol news circulated through the District, but you were hoping to at least let her know you tried to tell her.

“Yes, you should,” he finally spoke.

He gets up from the rocker and walks slowly towards your bed.

“Here, do you want to hold him?”

You open your arms for Coriolanus to place your son into.

He fits perfectly and doesn’t wake.

You stare at him. He didn’t feel like your son. Crassus was a small baby, with light blonde hair. Not how you imagined him.

Coriolanus lays on the bed next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders so he could bring you close.

“Thank you,” he says, “I know how scared you were. You called for your mother. Do you remember?”

You were hoping that he wouldn’t mention it. That it could just be something that happened and then forgotten.

“Did I?” you fawn.

You're careful to keep your eyes on your son, and not to look anywhere that could gain Coriolanus's attention.

He captures it anyway by bringing your chin up to his height.

“You did so well, and I am so proud of you,” he praises. He places a quick kiss on your lips before drawing his head back.

“I love you.” He states. His eyes look at you expecting.

“I love you too, Coriolanus.”

You never know if the letter you write is sent home. No return was ever given.

—--------------

A week later your baby boy lay between you and Coriolanus on the bed. He was sleeping after you had just fed him. It took a while for you to feel connected to him but now a mother's bond was established, and you could watch him sleep for hours.

Coriolanus ran his finger down the side of his baby's face and down to his little belly, rubbing soothing circles to try and help him digest the milk.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Coriolanus spoke to you but kept his gaze on his child.

“Yes,” you agree.

You wished your mother could see your baby. To hold him as is her right as a grandmother. You had wanted to ask Coriolanus, but you knew the answer. Still, you had to ask. Maybe he would be kinder to you after birthing his child.

“Coriolanus, I was wondering if I might be able to take him back home to see my family?”

His eyes shot up at you. The answer was more than no, it was how dare you.

“Don’t you ever ask me that again.” he seethes.

You held little hope that he would agree so his denial hurt less.

“Can we video call them?” you try to compromise.

“No,” his answer was hard and cold, “Put him in his bassinet and come back.” He commanded.

Crassus’s bassinet was only at the end of your bed. Coriolanus wanted to keep him close.

Your baby stirs as you gently pick him up but settles back into his mother's arms. He was so milk-drunk that the normal fight to set him into his bassinet was won with a gentle rock.

You knew you were in trouble with Coriolanus. The only time you had wished that your baby fought sleep was so you could avoid Coriolanus’ wrath.

He holds his tongue until you are back lying next to him.

“I don’t want you speaking about your family ever again. I don’t want our son to know that you are District. Think about them if you must, but if you continue to speak about them, I will have them killed.”

“They are my family,” you spat.

“We are your family. Us. Your son and your husband.”

You get up from next to him, even though you know you shouldn’t.

“Lay back down,” he demands.

“I’ve done everything you have asked of me,” you snivel, “Gone to every event where they look at me like a trained animal. Cooked your meals, washed your clothes. Gave you a son, just like you wanted.”

Your voice was wobbly and raised. The hormones that were still raging through your body from birth trapped you between uncontrollable sadness and an unquenchable fury.

“Be quiet. You’ll wake Crassus,” Coriolanus scolded.

“I don’t care!” You yell.

Coriolanus looks to the bassinet at the end of the bed, expecting his son to wake, crying.

All is silent. You lower your voice as you continue speaking. If you upset Crassus all conversation would stop.

“Crassus doesn’t have to come. I can have a one-hour phone call a month without him. He doesn’t have to know, but I can’t live like this.”

His eyes snapped to you as he lay in the bed. “Can’t live like this? I have given you a life so terrible that you can’t bear it?”

He rises from the bed, and you take a step back. You were in a bad condition after birth. There was no way you could defend yourself against him.

“Nothing I do for you is ever good enough for you” he exclaims. His eyes squint at you but his voice is calm and collected, “You know how dangerous it was for me to help you in 12? A Commander, and a District girl. How that looked for me in my presidential run? But I didn’t care. From the day I met you, I have looked after you. And you want me to feel in debt to you, because why? You cook the food I give you? Wash the clothes I buy? Birthed a beautiful son that you never would have had without me.”

“You didn’t ‘take care of me’, Coriolanus. You took me. I never asked for any of it. I want to go home to my family.”

Coriolanus stood across from you, his face unmoving and hard.

“You’re right. Family is important,” he suddenly says. His face relaxes, and body unwinded.

He moves quickly to the end of the bed where Crassus lies.

“Your brother had a child. A little girl, named after you,” he rocks the bassinet gently despite his threatening words.

“You want to see her? I can bring her here,” he taunts.

“No,” you whisper.

“No? All this talk of family, and the answer is no?’’

He looks down at his sleeping baby, checking for any signs of distress.

“I could bring them all here. They could work in the presidential estate. You’re the only one who doesn’t have to earn their keep”.

You imagine them dressed in the same white uniforms as the other servants. How much control Coriolanus would have over their lives daily.

“That’s not what I am asking,” you state.

“You’re asking to have your family around you, and I couldn’t agree more. Unless you don’t consider them family?”

“Well?” he pushes after a moment of silence.

“No.”

“Who do you consider family then?”

“You and Crasuss,” you gave the answer he wanted to hear.

“That’s right!” He cooed, running a hand over Crassus’s head, “Just us. All you need is us.”

He straightens once more, giving his full attention back to you.

“I am not asking you to be grateful, but I will not allow you to be thankless,” he shoves his hands in his pockets in a casual manner.

“You should sleep as he sleeps,” he suggests. He wanted the fight to be over, and the newborn bliss to continue.

“Lay back down, and go to sleep. No more talk of Districts.”

He leaves you in the room with your son, retreating from any further fighting.

You wondered if it was true. Did Archie have a baby?

Some part of you hoped it was true, and that she would fill the void of you in their lives. Just as Crassus filled the void for you.

—-----------

With the success of Crasuss, Coriolanus was eager to have another one. You were still getting used to motherhood. You weren’t sure if you could deal with this one, let alone another one.

Coriolanus stayed home with you for the 40 days that you were supposed to be on bed rest. He was up late with work, and then during the night with Crasuss.

He tried to give you as much rest as he could. But Crassus needed you for feedings, and sometimes he would only settle if he was in your arms.

Coriolanus was unversed in assessing others' needs. He would bounce Crassus when he needed to be held, change his diaper when he needed to be fed, and give him toys that were too old for him.

He couldn’t decipher his cries like you could, leaving him frustrated.

You knew he tried, which was more than you expected of him.

You wake from the sound of your son crying from what feels like a two second nap. Coriolanus tried to prolong it for you by trying to soothe the baby himself.

“He needs to be burped,” you tell Coriolanus, “Put him up on your shoulder and pat his back.”

He had only just fed so you knew it was just tummy pain.

Coriolanus does as you say. Crassus settles as he is put upright but no burp comes.

“It’s not working,” Coriolanus panics. Every little thing the doctor was to be called to check it out.

“Keep going,” you encourage.

Coriolanus sighs in relief when Crassus lets out a little burp and returns to being a happy baby.

“You’re good at this,” he commented, “ A natural.”

He always knew you would be, but to see it in action filled him with great joy and admiration.

You huff in response, closing your eyes to go back to sleep.

Coriolanus had to go back to his usual duties, leaving you with the full responsibilities of being a mother.

It was overwhelming to have no one else to talk to but a baby. You spent your days in the apartment which drove you crazy.

You eye the door. Coriolanus never told you to stay in the apartment. It was just an assumption you made. You knew you would never get outside of the gates, but you would settle for the gardens.

With your baby in your arms, you cautiously twist the knob.

There is no booby trap as you step out. No alarm rings. So you continue your journey.

You vaguely remember the way from when you were out of the apartment with Coriolanus.

A maid was polishing the wood of the staircase you needed to go down. You curse but try to act casual as you approach her.

“Mrs. Snow,” the maid seemed surprised to see you, “Can I do something for you?”

“No. I am just going to the gardens,” you justify.

You walk quickly away from her. You hear her calling your name but you don’t stop.

The house is large and echos as you make your way across it. The entrance out into the gardens was almost hidden.

You wanted to run, but you were careful not to shake your baby too much.

The big door comes into view. A sense of excitement and apprehension overcame you. You had never been outside of the Presidential quarters without Coriolanus. Now you were stepping outside. It felt as if you were gaining some independence back.

When you open the door, you are confronted with a Peacekeeper, who stands aside out of your way.

You thank him as you move past him, but he follows wordlessly as you cross the field.

The maid had called the Peacekeeper on you, who called Coriolanus on you, and Coriolanus had told the Peacekeeper to keep an eye on what you were doing.

You find a spot under a tree in the lowest field, the Peacekeeper stands ten feet away to give you and your baby some privacy.

You play with your baby in the short grass. He liked the feeling of it.

Some maids come, bringing a picnic blanket, and a glass of lemonade.

You thank them although you wanted none of their assistance.

Crassus has some tummy time listening to the birds. You lay back on the grass and watch the sun as it goes down. It was comforting to know that your mother and brother would be looking at the same sun. As far away as they were, at least something still connected you.

You tell Crassus about them and he babbles back as if he was trying to talk. You tell him about Edmund in the prime of his life. You don’t discuss Edmund’s death or his father's involvement.

You begin to explain District 12 to him just as the sun disappears behind the trees, when you hear the Peacekeeper stand to attention in greeting. You shut up immediately.

“It’s time to come inside” Coriolanus’s voice is heard.

He picks his son up and places him on his shoulder after a quick kiss.

You get up with the blanket and cup as you follow him back to the house.

Coriolanus takes the items from you and gives them to the Peacekeeper in passing.

“Look at this,” Coriolanus pulls out a small doll from his pocket, “A senator's little girl gave it to me. She was so cute. We should try for a girl next.”

You still had four weeks before the doctor gave you the go-ahead to engage in intercourse. But you knew Coriolanus would push the limits on that time frame.

“I want to wait at least a year before another one,” you tell him.

It already was so difficult, you wouldn’t survive having to care for another one.

“No,” Coriolanus protested, “I would like a girl before the years out.”

You knew how obsessive Coriolanus could be when he had a thought trapped in his head. You also knew that nothing you said was going to change his mind.

You wait until Crassus is asleep, and your shift with Coriolanus starts.

He was waiting for you like he usually is. After Crassus was asleep, it was his turn to have his wife.

He had opened a bottle of wine and was flicking through the tv channels. It surprised him when you dropped to your knees in front of him.

Your hands reach for his trousers, and he eagerly helps you to take them off. During pregnancy he didn’t want to force you to do anything, thinking that it might harm the baby. After he was born, there was a recovery period that he had to wait through. It left Coriolanus pent up and hungry for your touch.

Your lips were warm on him and worked so well.

After all of your experience, you knew what Coriolanus liked. You swatted his hands off you as he tried to take control. He relents, bringing his hands to his thighs in a tight grip.

You feel it grow in your mouth with your attention. It twitches under your tongue and you knew it as a sign he was close.

Just as he is reaching his high, you drag your lips back and off.

He gasps as you do, throwing his head back onto the couch.

“What are you doing?” He groans. He was irritated, which was not your desired effect.

“Crassus turns one before another baby,” you demand.

His hands curl into the couch as he counters, “Eight months.”

You move to get up but his hands stop you, “Okay, okay, a year. Just finish.” He begs.

You do finish him off, with the smug satisfaction that Coriolanus Snow is just a man.

The day Crassus turns one, Coriolanus keeps you to your bargain.

Coriolanus was determined to have a girl. Clothes and bows had already been brought.

While Capitol technology allowed you to artificially change the sex of your baby, Coriolanus was more interested in conceiving the natural way.

He researched old myths to increase his chances, and he tried all of them.

He made you drink lemon juice before sex. He initiated sex on even days of the week. You were on a diet of fish, eggs, and vegetables. And you had to leave your legs raised for a couple of minutes after he was finished.

You were slow to conceive like you were with Crassus. But one of the old wives' tales worked, for nearly nine months after Crassus turned one, you fell pregnant with a baby girl.

You named her Aurora meaning dawn. A silent homage to your family back home, and the sun that connects you.

—--------------------

Having children strangely settled you. You had five children in total within years of each other. Your fifth child was your last. After you had lost too much blood during the birth of your next boy, Coriolanus put off plans to have a sixth. It scared him, seeing you so pale, laying half dead in a bed like his mother. The goal of children was to bring you closer, not to use you up.

They gave your life purpose and little room to think about anything else but their needs. As they grew, you got more freedom to explore the city. Always under an army of guards. Coriolanus wanted them to have a full life, even if it meant granting you access to be far from him.

His children were not to miss out on anything the Capitol had to offer. Their names were on the top of the list for any attractions, child star concerts, and plays. The world was at their fingertips, and you got to experience Capitol life through them.

He went when he could but his work was demanding. In his absence, a team of Peacekeepers escorted you and your kids around the Capitol.

Despite his many faults, Coriolanus was a doting father. His children were first, sometimes before you. Where once his hold was tight around you all night, now you wake to find that one of your children had escaped their bed and taken your place.

You always worried about his temper. He hasn’t hit you in years. You figure it was partly because you gave him little reason to, and partly because if you weren’t physically holding a child in your arms, you had one in your belly.

But as your children grew would they be in the same danger as you if they acted out?

They all had the signature blonde hair of a Snow, but only the firstborn had Coriolanus’s blue eyes. Your other two boys and girls had your eyes. Something to tell you that they weren’t all Coriolanus.

Date night normally consisted of an official event. They were far and few between as Coriolanus preferred you to be home with the babies. He disliked nannies but conceded to their usefulness.

Tonight was a charity event to raise money for a new public swimming pool. Vapid and silly. At this stage, only Crassus and Aurona were born to be left crying as you tried to leave for the event.

They were not used to being parted from you, and you were not used to being parted from them.

“It’s okay,” you hush, “Mummy will be back soon, and she will check on you.”

Aurora was too young to know what your words meant. Her only cue that something was wrong was Crassus as he screamed.

“No, Mummy, no!” His face was bright red from tears. You worried that he was short on breath from his screaming.

He knew when you dressed up, you were leaving. He was four but a smart little thing. As soon as the stylist crew arrived, his meltdown began.

You held him as they did your hair and make-up, trying to soothe him. Coriolanus was still at work. All he needed to do was change his suit when he arrived home.

He arrived home to chaos he could not settle.

He stood behind you, watching as your son tried to tug off your elbow-length glove.

“It’s alright, it’s okay. Mum will be back,” you promise.

Aurora throws her head back, throwing her body off balance in your hold.

The two nannies try to gain the kids' attention by holding out new toys, and calling out to them.

“Once you leave they will settle,” one of the nannies promised.

With teary eyes, you kiss both of your crying children, Coriolanus does the same, and Aurora is handed over.

Crassus’s little hands claw onto your dress, he has to be picked up and yanked away by his nanny.

You try not to let your tears fall as you walk to the car. It would ruin your make-up, and once you started to cry, you weren’t sure you would be able to stop.

“They will be fine,” Coriolanus promises on the way to the event.

“Why do I have to go tonight?” It was a silly thing that would survive without you.

“Because you’re my wife. That’s why.”

Despite many years in the Capitol, events like this reminded you that you don’t belong.

People would only talk to you in an attempt to gain an audience with Coriolanus.

You would remain civil but not overly friendly.

They all thought you were shy and timid as you were rarely seen, and always by Coriolanus’s side.

Your relationship with Coriolanus had changed over the years but his overprotectiveness never dissolved.

His hand was always on you in some form. Where he went, you went. Who he talked to, you talked to. You were only an extension of him in public. At least at home, you were your own person to your kids.

Tonight it seemed to all children. Only one person spoke to you apart from Coriolanus.

It was a little girl, who passed you a flower in thanks. The public pool didn’t seem so silly in your eyes anymore. You bent down to talk to her, thanking her for the flower. You asked her about school and her siblings. You told her about your own children who were too young to attend a party like her.

You were disappointed when her nanny came to collect her. She scolds the child for running away and bothering the President.

Tucking the flower behind your ear, you blow the girl a kiss as she is carted off.

The rest of the night was dull as you acted as Coriolanus’s shadow.

Coriolanus had just finished a speech on stage, you were walking back down the hallway to the party with him. You passed a few people running the events. They tried to talk to him, but he seemed in a rush.

He turns off the direction of the party, and tugs you down an empty hallway.

You ask him what he is doing as he checks the doors until he finds one that is opened and ushers you inside. It was a supply closest. Small and smelling slightly damp.

He pushes you up against the wall, knocking over a broom and a bucket.

“You’re such a good mother. Such a good little wife. I don’t tell you that enough,” he says.

“Okay,” you respond, pushing back on his shoulders.

“I love you so much.” He kisses you so hard, that your head is knocked painfully back into the cement wall.

It reminded you of the harsh and needy kisses he used to give you as a Commander.

You feel his hands slide up your dress and grip the flesh of your butt.

“Coriolanus, not here,” you beg.

His lips go to your throat in slow, sexual kisses.

“I want another baby,” he requests.

“Not here. Someone could find us.”

“Not if you are quiet.”

“Coryo,” You try. A bit too loud for this liking. He clamps a hand over your mouth, and shushes you with a hard look that tells you he was serious.

“It would not look good if they found the President and First Lady fucking in a closet.”

He kneels on the floor in front of you, going under your dress and up your legs, bringing down your underwear.

You feel him put his mouth on you, and you try to relax. It took you months to fall pregnant the last two times. This time wasn’t anything special.

His fingers dig into the back of your thighs, keeping you close as he works.

Soon a lapping sound is heard, and Coriolanus leaves your cunt with a kiss.

You try one more time to dissuade him. Telling him to wait until home. But he unbuckles his belt and hoists you up around his waist.

Your arms circle his shoulders as he pins you to the wall.

You can feel how hard he is against your heat. He bucks up against your wetness in desperation before he lines himself up properly.

You engulf him in your wetness as he thrusts his hips up into you.

With no way to hold yourself up, you feel yourself sink and then be thrusted up into.

“Are you going to give me a baby?” He grunts.

He is fast and rough as he slams up into you. His words were heard but your mind was far from them.

“Yeah?” He teases. His lips go to your neck again, trapping you head against the wall.

He seemed to continuously hit the spot that you liked, no matter how you moved your hips.

The pressure means you come too quickly. Coriolanus was nowhere close so would continue.

You can’t help to groan as he fucks you through your orgasm.

He reminds you to be quiet once more, and you bite his shoulder to stop the sounds you couldn’t stop coming.

He knew you had come from the way you clenched around him.

Taking the back of your neck, he leans you into his shoulder and wraps an arm around your waist.

He delivers you to the floor, releasing you gently into the tight confines of the cluttered room.

“Think you can manage another one?” He asks.

You shake your head ‘No’, your words failed you as he continued his brutal pace.

“I think you could,” he states.

He uses two fingers to circle your pearl as he drives into you.

The door had no lock. Anyone could open it and see you.

You were being too loud. You knew you were. But he forced the sounds from you. Your whole body tingled under his touch, your legs shook with pleasure.

He was not being entirely quiet himself. He grunted and shutters above you feeling his own end coming.

You feel him twitch in your preceding his exploding into you.

He beats you but doesn’t stop swirling his fingers, determined to have you finish again.

You come too loudly causing Coriolanus to cover your mouth with an open palm and look to the door, expecting detection.

His hand is pulled and with a kiss, Coriolanus pulls back on his ankles with a stupid grin.

He uses your panties to clean up the excess cum from you before placing the underwear back on you.

If you had any energy, you would have taken them back off but all you could do was lie there, watching him transform back into a respectable gentleman.

“We have to get back out there before they send Peacekeepers looking for us.”

He finishes tucking his shirt back into his pants before reaching down to help you to your feet.

You’re a little wobbly at first but Coriolanus keeps a firm grip to keep you upright.

You spend the rest of the fundraiser with damp panties and shaky legs which causes you to bump into Coriolanus as he stands next to you.

The stupid grin never leaves his face, even in the car ride home.

Your children are asleep when you arrive home.

You leave them with a kiss, before going back to your room and rushing to beat Coriolanus to bed while he is occupied going through the messages left for him.

He joins you in the shower but it’s quick and with the intention of going to bed.

He talks about the night. Recalling things he enjoyed and disliked.

He asks you what you think but you shrug. All Capitol events were the same to you.

You finish your shower while Coriolanus washes his hair. Giving you time to dress and get into bed before him.

You roll to your side, hoping that the supply closet tryst fulfilled him enough.

You feel him as he moves in the bed to come over to your side, his arm wraps around your shoulder and his head rests against yours.

“We should take the kids to the zoo tomorrow. I’ll have it cleared out.”

“Okay,” you reply, knowing that there wasn’t any other option.

The zoo was large, and there were too many animals to see before nap time.

Crassus got whiny and tired from all the walking and climbing on things. He demanded to be carried. Instead of using his words, he would scream when he got sick of looking at the same animal.

Normally you would have returned home to put him down for a nap, but Coriolanus enjoyed having his son rest on his shoulder. Crassus was a mommy’s boy and very rarely wanted to be held by anyone else.

It was not your first time at the zoo. You had taken Crassus while you were six months pregnant with Aurora. It still amazed you, however. You could spend hours just looking and learning about the animals, but Crassus was lucky to push a five hour awake period.

It was a blessing to visit the penguins where the sound of the gentle flowing water, and cool air sent him to sleep on Coriolanus' shoulder.

You pushed the pram that Aurora was asleep in as you and Coriolanus searched for a comfortable resting place.

Finding a canopy, you sit with your family in the shade. Coriolanus had successfully transferred Crassus from his shoulder to the bench with his head resting on his father's thigh.

Coriolanus’s other leg went out to gently rock the pram with his expensive shoe.

You lay back resting your eyes yourself. Crassus had woken you up from a nightmare. With him in your bed, you got very little sleep as he tossed and spread out.

Coriolanus disturbs your peace by reaching out to place a hand on your stomach as if there was something already inside.

“What do you think it will be?” he asks.

“We don’t know there is anything in there.”

Coriolanus had wanted you to take a test this morning but it was chaos trying to get the children ready for the day.

“I don’t care what it is myself. I was thinking Marcellus for a boy, and Lillian for a girl”.

You cry at the thought of being pregnant again. It was a horrible experience. It was uncomfortable, tiring, and you suffered great nausea all throughout the nine months. That's all before the recovery period while you run around after two other children.

“Hey,” his voice is soft and reassuring. He stops rocking the pram to reach his hand to yours.

The hand that wasn’t captured by Coriolanus went to your mouth to quieten your blathering. You were always cautious about what the children saw.

“If it’s too much I’ll let you get a nanny to help during the day” he offers.

You rip your hand out from under him in anger, “I don’t want a nanny.”

You didn’t trust Capitol people to be around your children. Only when you were forced to where you parted from them. They were too young. They needed their mother.

“You’re tired,” he pandered. His hand wraps around your shoulder to pull you down to his lap. You rest your head on his thigh like your son, and find your eyes shut by themselves.

You feel his fingers itch your head until you are asleep. Coriolanus waits until your breath evens before returning to rock the pram with his hand. With his arm rested over his oldest child, and his hand lulling his baby girl to sleep, Coriolanus felt a swell of pride.

His family slept under his protection and lead. Pamen had entered into a new golden age. All paths led him here.

You woke to the sound of Aurona crying which woke and upset Crassus.

On instinct, you shoot up from Coriolanus to retrieve your baby girl. She needed to be fed again, but Crassus was now rejecting Coriolanus’s hold, wanting to be picked up by you.

You oblige him when his face starts to turn red from crying. You feel their tears on either side of your collarbones. Their screams rang in your ear.

Coriolanus stretches his dead legs, slowly easing himself up to place a hand on Crassus' back.

“Let's get ice cream,” he bribes.

Crasuss turns his head to look at his father and nods.

With a bright smile, Coriolanus claps his hands together before opening them wide, “Come to daddy?” He asks.

You never let him get ice cream at the zoo. It was too close to nap time. So with the promise Crassus eagerly goes into his father's arms.

At the ice cream shop you could feed Aurona but it took far longer than normal with the anxiety that you were pregnant with your third. Something told you that you were.

It was a boy. A gorgeous baby boy. Doll was your nickname for him, but Coriolanus officially names him Adrianus. He cried very little, and at six weeks old he slept through the night. He latched easily, and from 3 to 4 in the afternoon, he would laugh insatiably at everything. He was a dream child. You were very happy with him, despite his initial undesired conception.

Life settled for a little bit as Coriolanus worked to quell a quiet rebellion brewing in the Districts.

For a year Coriolanus was kept busy. His mind off expanding his family.

For the moment he was happy with the three wonderful kids you had given him. Something you could share. Three young kids, five and under, left you exhausted by the end of the day, yet when the day was over and the kids were asleep, Coriolanus demanded your attention.

Coriolanus was not immune to jealousy even from his own kids. You had learnt to give him enough attention during the day when he was around but it only starved him off until night time. He rarely talked about work. Only upcoming events that concern you. He was more interested in you recounting every single thing the kids did.

After having the kids hang off you all day, your least favorite thing to do was have Coriolanus all over you. But when it was his time, he followed you everywhere you went. Insisting that you sat on the couch with him for an hour. He didn’t feel like it was much, but you felt as if it was the last bit of energy zapped out of you.

You normally got a break when Coriolanus returned home from work. He started early so normally he was home in the late afternoon. While you had lots of staff to help you with chores and cooking, you preferred to do it yourself. It gave you a routine that you could go auto-pilot on.

From five to six every day you were in your kitchen while Coriolanus watched the children. Capitol food took some getting used to. Half of the meat you had never even seen before. Coriolanus organized cooking lessons to help you as a Mother’s Day gift.

Dinner was often followed by free play if they weren’t too messy, allowing you time to feed Adrianus. It was important that he had your full attention as you fed as he was so quiet that you might miss a cue of his discomfort.

Crassus sat coloring at the kitchen table while you were in the kitchen trying to feed your youngest boy, Adrianus, who had just turned one

Coriolanus sat next to his son watching as your daughter Aurora showed off her expensive ball gown that her father had brought her simply because she wanted it. ‘No’ was not in Coriolanus’s vocabulary when it came to his children.

He held out accessories in his palm for her as she explained what they were and where they went.

Despite ruling a country with an iron fist, at home, it was you who disciplined the children. He let them run wild, while you tried to raise them to be respectable, and moral children. Your work mostly paid off. They were good children.

Aurora having free reign over her father and older brother, who both bent over backwards to please her, was spoiled. Her tantrums were something you were yet to stop, but she was sweet when not disappointed which was more often than not.

She only had to cry and Coriolanus would pick her up, giving her what she wanted. It annoyed you to no end. If your marriage was equal, you would push more for him to discipline the kids, but Coriolanus only ever gave you the illusion of partnership.

“Mummy, how did you meet Daddy?” Crassus asks out of nowhere as he draws.

The small spoon in your hand drops to the floor as memories that you had buried spring up. The stalking, the harassment, the loss of freedom. You remember the late nights as your mother cried out from pain from the flogging that he ordered.

“Mummy used to own a cake shop, and Daddy would go by every morning before University to buy one.” Coriolanus answered for you. He reaches out and brushes Crassus' hair lovingly.

“Dad, you can’t have cake for breakfast!” Aurora exclaimed.

“Oh, but I did! Your mother would make them special for me.”

You close your eyes remembering the words, ‘Can you make me some more of those oat bars.’ A demand, not a gesture on your behalf. You remember the hard wall behind you as he pressed you there. Just the thought of it brought your heart back into your throat as if it was happening all over again.

“She doesn’t let me have cake for breakfast!” Aurora complained. Tears sprang to her eyes causing Crassus to push a lollypop you had given him for eating his dinner across the table, trying to fight off his sister's tears.

Coriolanus picks her up from the floor and places her on his knee so she can cry into his arms.

“Darling, these are special cakes. Ones you give to someone you want to marry.”

You remember the cakes you used to make Edmund. Edmund, you hadn’t thought about him in years, yet the scar on your heart never healed.

“Not growing little girls.” Still, your daughter cried, which displeased Coriolanus.

He rises from the table with Aurora in his arms and heads into the fridge.

“Let's see if Mum baked any for you”.

Your youngest son begins to cry from hunger which snaps you out of your spiraling. With your daughter receiving a cupcake and your son resuming feeding, the room is calm once more. But your hand shook as your mind flooded with memories of Commander Snow.

Moments later, Crassus presented you with a picture of two stick figures surrounded by out-of-proportion cupcakes. You stared at it with the weight of your baby resting on your hip.

Just like that Coriolanus had rewritten history. Commander Snow was a distant dream. District 12 a vague thought. Lucy Gray no longer haunted the woods. No longer made Coriolanus Snow the victor of the 10th Hunger Games. The war scar had faded. He had fixed history’s mistakes.

He had taken his rightful place as President of Pamen. Only you were left to remember him as Commander Snow.

The end!

Thank you all for reading, and coming along for the journey. Especially to those who commented and motivated me to write. This story would not have been complete without you.

A HUGE thank you to @hotline-to-hell for editing the work, and restructuring the mess.

And a HUGE thank you to @thaleleah and (who i assume is the same) anon who took the time out to encourage me with their long, and hilarious feedback.

Hope to see you all in my other works!

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