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hidden-poet · 20 days ago

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The Victor: PART 1

Summary: Dove Eastgate is a school teacher in district 12. When one of her children get picked for the games, she steps in to take their place. President Snow is both outraged and curious.

Word count: 10,000

Part 2 coming soon

For the 18th Hunger Games, President Snow announced that as a special event this year's reaping would consist of anyone from the ages of 10-24.

It was backlash for a young rebel group found forming.

It upset all the districts as intended. More fear than ever coursed through district 12 on reaping day.

Dove Eastgate escorted her young school students over to the square. Parents who were too valuable to have reaping off left their kids with Dove for minding until the games.

There were only four of them this year. Most business and trade shut for reaping day. It was too grim for anyone to do anything other than morn.

Dove held two of the children's hands as they walked to the square. Ranging from 6-8 they were too young, but it filled her with dread that one day one of these babies could be reaped.

“Miss Eastgate! Miss!” Edwina called from behind the group.

“Edwina, come on now. We cant be late”, Miss Dovegate addressed, turning to the small girl.

If your name wasn't crossed off and you weren’t standing perfectly in line when it was time to broadcast, there were serious ramifications, even for a small child.

“Look”, the child complained, kicking up her shoe with the undone laces.

Dove smiles, letting go of the reluctant little hands to help Edwina.

“Left over right. Punch it through, pull it tight” she sang, trying to teach the small girl as she went, “Bunny ear, Bunny ear, where are you? Chase the little rabbit, chase the little rabbit, pull him though”.

The child sang along with her, remembering the rhyme from class.

“Well done!” Dove gushes. The first step was remembering the words, before the actions.

“Miss Eastgate” Edwina suddenly turned serious, “my brother is 10”.

Dove cringed with the knowledge the little girl had the weight of this problem on her little shoulders. The parents should have kept the news hidden, but emotions flared as the news circulated the village.

Dove reaches up to comfort Edwina by placing her hands softly on her arms.

“And you’re going to play with him this afternoon”, she promises, “How about”, she looks back at the other young children who seemed too anxious for their age, “after the reaping, we all go to the clearing and have a big game of bull rush!”

It brightened the children's spirts. Who all agreed it was a good idea.

‘And tag?” one of them asked.

“Yep, and tag” Miss Eastgate promised.

She wondered if she could be as playful as she normally is with the two tributes on her mind. If there was a god, it would be older people this year.

“Come on, darlings. We have to go”, the children's hands are taking once more and she leads them to the sign in. They follow like little ducklings.

Dominic, who always claims he isn’t a baby and in fact a big kid, hangs on to Dove’s dress as they walk.

She gets the children signed in and escorts them to their place in line.

They all looked frightened despite being in no real danger. The air just carried a desperation that they were susceptible too.

Reaping day was hard for young children. There was no room for error. Dressed in their best, they couldn’t play for fear of not looking presentable enough for tv. They couldn't understand why they had to have not a hair out of place, only that they must or be belted.

Dove bends down so she could speak to them.

“During the Reaping, don’t make a sound. Don’t move. Just think about all the games we are going to play after. You list them quietly in your head from best to worst”.

They all give some variation of ‘Yes. Miss Eastgate’, and she leaves them with blown kisses.

She then goes to stand in line with her sex and age group. It crosses her mind that she might be picked, but the pool was too big for her odds to be too high. Still someone's name had to be called. At 24, she thought the hunger games were behind her. No longer a constant threat every year. This was a starkling reminder that she is never truly safe from the capitol.

The Capital was a strange place with strange people. Dove looks at the Capitol people on stage standing around talking waiting for the show to begin. They had weird hair and clothing.

This year's announcer wore all purple. From her shoes to her hair and the fascinator she wore in it.

It was toned down from last year, where the presenter carried a live snake over her shoulder. It hated being there and she kept having to readjust it which made her job hard.

Peacekeepers cover the place with large guns. Each capitol citizen was assigned their own Peacekeeper in addition to those whose job it was to keep district 12 in line.

Any up roar would be met with a wave of bullets and no escape.

The Tv crackles before the national anthem plays.

Everyone sings as they are supposed to and the TV men begin their work of capturing the event.

The Reaping starts with a welcome from the capitol. A short man with spiky hair and a bright blue suit speaks from the stage the tributes will be interviewed on in a couple of weeks.

The welcome is followed by a short introduction of himself, and the reasoning behind the games. He speaks of the Treaty of Treason formed to commemorate the defeat of the Districts, and deter any future rebellions. The importance of Hunger Games and how it keeps peace in the nation.

Then its off to district 1 for the reaping of the first child.

A morbid relief floods Dove as it reaches District 10 and mostly older children are called.

The youngest was a 15 year old girl who looked like she could hold her own despite her age. The oldest was a 24 year old man who ragged at being picked. It took a taser to bring his fit down.

Dove looks over to the children. They should have to watch this.

The next district’s tribute was a young girl. Possibly 11 but she could have easily passed for 9 with her small frame and child like features. A sick feeling came upon Dove as she watched the crying girl on stage.

Soon it’s district 12’s turn and the presenter fakes an excited front as she reaches into the large bowl and plucks the unlucky name out.

Dove waits to hear the ‘D’ sound but the presenters lips present a different sound.

“Mary-Blu” the name called.

Dove could have thrown up. Mary-Blu had just turned 10 two weeks ago. How was that fair? She was small and cute. She wouldn’t last a minute in the arena.

It caused commotion in the crowd for someone so young to be picked but the Peacekeepers pointed their guns ready and the commotion died down.

Dove could hear Mary-Blu as she wailed. A Peacekeeper comes to collect her, when she made no movement from the line.

“Wait”, Dove uttered, watching as the little girl was dragged to stage, “wait!” she said louder.

Her brain screamed at her to stay put and not make a sound. She had other kids to think about, but her feet moved from the line to the aisle.

“Wait, please!”, she called out. The Peacekeeper stopped and turned to see who could be so stupid. The others raised their guns, ready to open fire.

Dove had the attention of everyone, even Mary-Blu’s family had stopped screaming in preparation of what she was about to say.

“I volunteer as tribute” Dove announced.

Murmurs erupt in the crowd around her. No one had ever volunteered before.

Coriolanus, watching from the control room, slammed his fist into the table.

“What is she doing?” he muttered.

He turns back to his head showman who was standing behind his chair.

“Tell them to find out more about this. Why she is volunteering, her name, if she’s in the age group, anything and everything”.

“Settle down, settle down” the escort demanded. The peacekeepers raised their gun with authority and the murmurs drop back to silence.

The information makes its way to the presenter's earpiece and she beckons Dove up.

“Come up here dear, and tell us your name”.

With stiff legs, she makes her way from the back up the dirt runway with confidence that Coriolanus admired.

The Peacekeeper lets Mary-Blu go as Dove passes and the little girl flings herself to Dove.

“Go back in line”, Dove demanded, pulling the little girl off.

Mary-Blu runs off and Dove wishes she could too. But she wouldn't get far.

Her legs wobbled as she climbed the steps to the stage. It had been years since she thought she would be up here.

“What’s your name dear?” the presenter asked,

The escort grabs the standing microphone between her long painted claws and brings it closer to the Dove’s lips.

“Dove Eastgate”, she answered.

“Well Dove you did a very brave thing. Everybody give a round of applause for our tribute”.

Dove begins to talk through the crowd clapping but the presenter is slow on the capturing it through the mic.

“We don’t have to do this”, she uttered in shock.

The mic gives an awful feedback sound as it is pulled away from her.

“She said the girl is her neighbour” the woman gave an awkward laugh, “isn’t that nice! Anyway we must really move on! Aren’t you dying to know who the male tribute will be? I am!”

Dove is forgotten as the Presenter approaches the bowl with the male tributes and plucks a name.

“Blake Newman!” she calls.

Dove knew Blake. A man of just 21. They weren’t friends by any measure, but her heart lurched to think of them trapped in the arena together.

“My! The older tributes will sure make for an interesting game this year. Don’t you think so?” the women spoke into the mic as Blake made his way up.

He made no sound and gave no sign of his displeasure as he joined the stage next to Dove.

“Another round of applause please” the woman orders. Slow and half-hearted clapping ensures.

“Thank you all for coming to see our tributes off. Happy reaping and may the odds be ever in your favour”

It was clear that the districts were now to disperse.

Peacekeepers immediately approached and shackled this years tributes.

A long chain attached wrist cuffs to ankle cuffs and the tributes were ordered to move.

Dove felt the panic flood in as they walked to the van that would take them to the train out of district 12.

Blake seemed bothered but she knew what he was feeling.

They are locked into the back of the van still chained.

“Blake, I am so sorry”, Dove offers.

“Feel sorry for yourself”, he bites back, “You won’t last long”.

Dove slumps back. It was true. Dove could not kill. She would die in the hunger games. Her mind casts to the picked tributes and wonders which one of them will do it.

The ride is bumpy, and moves fast. Even when they got to their destination. They were kept in the back for what could have been an hour. Only when everyone else was ready to go, did Peacekeepers open the door.

They took Blake first and then dove, leading them to cells on the train. Blake is locked in first and then they take Dove to the furthest one from him.

The Capitol didn’t want the tributes to talk unless they allowed it.

The chains were taking off but the door was locked tightly shut.

Dove found the closest corner and rolled herself into a ball. The cell was dark and cold. Despite it being only noon, it felt like it was midnight.

In the dark, she felt comfortable enough to cry. Her sobs rang off the metal cell and back over her.

She has no idea how long had passed, but finally someone had come to free her.

It was the presenter women now dressed in the brightest blue Dove had ever seen. From her lipstick down to her very high shoes, the blue almost reflected off her. She has a birdnest of blonde hair that was curled into little ringlets high above her.

“Get up!, she called in a strong voice.

Dove got up to face her, stepping into the light that was casted into her cell.

“Dinner is ready”, the women said.

Dinner time already. It was only noon when the reaping occurred,

Dove followed the women into the next cart.

From the cold, dark prison to the lush and elaborate dining hall. Dove felt as if she shouldn’t be there.

Blake sat at a long table, next to a man with long plaited hair. The man rose as you entered but blake remain seated.

“Hello”, the man greeted, “I am red, your mentor”.

“Mentor?” dove asked, reaching out to shake his hand.

“I won the games three years back, now I’ll try and help you win yours” the man explained.

“District 11” Blake calls between bites of food, “He’s the one who beat the dude with a rock’’.

Red looks down ashamed.Dove wanted to scold Blake for his candor but didnt want to draw anymore attention to the fact.

“We all do things to survive the games”, Red defends.

He takes a couple of steps back, retreating to the table once more.

“I am starving!” the presenter announced, looking around the room full of food for a bell.

She rings it furiously until the cart opens and servants arrive with plates of food.

Dove takes a spot next to Blake, trying her best to avoid the women.

A roast is put down in front of her, beautifully presented and already cut up into bite sized pieces.

Dove quickly picked up her fork and took her first bite. She hadn’t realised her hunger until her nose picked up on the scent.

It was seasoned with rosemary and butter. The meat was so tender it melted on her tongue.

Red was quite the rest of the evening. Dove could tell Blakes comment triggered him.

The woman was loud enough that the rest could simmer with their thoughts.

Dove thought about the kids she left behind. She wondered if they would even remember her given a few years.

She would never see them grow. Watch them as they fall in love and find work. They weren’t hers by any measure but she did love him. Each one unique and special to her.

She would never play with or teach them again. Soon she would a faint memory of the school teacher who died in the hunger games. But Mary-Blu would live on. She would get to grow and fall in love. Dove would trade that, not even for her life.

A Dessert was put in front of her, a rich chocolate cake with cream. She pushes it away, giving it to Blake when he asks.

After dinner they were escorted back to their cells by peacekeepers. Bedding had been put on the floor, and Dove curled into it. Tomorrow they would reach the capitol and their lives would be over.

Breakfast was a buffet of food that Dove couldnt eat. She sipped on orange juice until it was taken away.

After breakfast, Red gave an overview of what the next few weeks would look like. They would be stripped and showered once they reach the capitol, and have their initial photos taken. After that they would be taken to their accommodation and Red would prep them for the round of interviews.

A couple of days of interviewing and training, they would have their chariot rides where they would be introduced to the capitol. Then some more training, and ranking.

Then their big interview with Caesar and then finally they would be led to their death on game day.

“It’d be quicker to be killed by a peacekeeper” Blake quipped.

Red quickly reminded him that as kind as it would be, it wasn’t an option. The peacekeepers wouldn’t kill him before the Games. But they would torture him to the point he wished for death.

“Enjoy your walk to the slaughter”, Red reminded him, “or enjoy the only pause of torture being for appearances”.

They were put back in their cells.

A window let the natural light in and Dove stood on her tippy toes to peer out of it. The train was going so fast, everything sped past in a different shade of green. She stood until her leg muscle quivered, forcing her to sit back on her bedding.

When the light began to be cut off in flashes, Dove knew they were entering the capitol.

She stood once more, peering out of the window. Buildings towered the sky and the train curved around them into a long tunnel.

She could feel the train as it slowed to a halt. Her window now shows the brick of the station. It was late afternoon and pink light casted through the gloomy and deserted train station.

Ever since hovercrafts, the capitol people mainly use trains for moving produce.

She could hear as the train got unloaded. Heavy clanks as things were dropped and workmen communicating with each other.

Still no one came to collect the tributes. They were the last thing to be unloaded.

In chains once more, they are led to a peacekeeper van and loaded into the back. The presenter women and Red were nowhere to be seen. District 12 tributes have been abandoned before the game even started.

“Why did you do it?”Blake asks suddenly. His eyes focus forward, not looking at her.

“I am sick of watching children die. That little girl from 3, what chance does she have?”

“What chance do you have?” Blake shot back. His eyes turn to her and she turns cold from his stare.

A man of only 21 but of strong build and a face that wore his troubles.

“A better chance than Mary-blu”, Dove contends.

He turns back to front and all further conversation stops.

The van pulls up and Peacekeepers escort the tributes into a hall.

More Peacekeepers are positioned in every corner of the room with large guns. The room is crowded with capitol members, all dressed in white and running in between sheets hung up indicating different sections.

Other tribute members were already there. District 12 was last to arrive.

Dove is split up from Blake and taken behind a curtain.

She is told to take off her clothes and lay on the table. The capitol staff were more interested in talking to each other that Dove felt alone enough to follow order.

They start with washing her with hot water. Shower heads that retracted into the sides of the table spring out with soap and a heavy stream of water.

Dove closes her eyes and allows them to work. They wash and blow dry her hair. Shape and dye her eyebrows. Cut and buff her nails. None of it hurt. The staff even seemed gentle as they worked.

The only discomfort was when they brought the laser out and zapped every inch of hair on her. Even then they worked quickly and soothed her skin with ointment.

When it was time to get up, she felt woozy from having laid flat for so long. They gave her time for the blood to rush back and a black jumpsuit with 12 stitched on the back.

“Good luck”, one of them said to her before pointing her in the direction of the line.

The female tributes lined up adjacent to the male tributes. All to the same destination- a white backdrop and a flashing camera.

The men's line moved first.

Over the sound of the camera man shouting demands, Dove could hear the little sobs of a girl too young to take hold of her emotions.

Dove steps to the left out of the line so she could find the little girl.

She was near the front but Dove could hear her at the back.

“What good is she to me crying” The camera man turns to no one in particular and points to the girl, “wash her face, get her ready for the photo”, he calls to no one.

A Peacekeeper makes a move, and Dove races from the back to reach the girl before he could.

“I’ve got her” Dove announces, pulling the girl into her.

The Peacekeeper allows it, going back to his spot in the room.

Dove bends down the girl, stroking her hair and hugging her close.

“It’s okay, darling” she says as if this was all a bad dream.

Dove holds the girl close until she runs out of tears. By that time the men had finished the photos and the women began theirs.

“I don’t want to die” the little voice sobbed.

Dove takes the girl from her shoulder, holding her head up in line with her own.

“And you won’t” Dove promised, although she was unsure.

She held the little girl until the line had run out and it was her turn for the photos.

“It’s just a photo”, Dove says to the little girl, “A few flashes and its over”.

Dove holds the hand of the district 3 girl, leading her to the stool in front of the white backdrop.

“Look forward,” the Camera man directed.

The girl looked to Dove, who nodded in encouragement.

“Wow, very beautiful”, Dove praises.

The little girl smiles a little and continues to turn and pose as directed.

The flashing stops and the Cameraman calls for the next.

Dove steps up to the stool, rubbing district 3’s back, telling her what a good job she did, before Dove took her place.

Forward, side, on the stool, off the stool, smile, don’t smile, close lips, show teeth. The cameraman directed between flashes of light.

Soon the camera is dropped from the strap around his neck, and the Cameraman announces he is done.

Peacekeepers come over with chains, beginning with the men first.

“I am Dove”, she greeted, crouching down to the 10 year olds level and holding out a hand.

The little girl took it in a weak grasp. How was she ever going to win these games? It was a lamb and the slaughter.

“Macy” the little girl returned.

“Macy!”. Dove repeated enthusiastically, “one of my students is named Macy. She’s very brave. I hear all Macy’s are. Is that true?”

The little girl nodded her head. Her balled fist came to rub tears irritating her eyes.

“You’re a teacher?”Macy asked.

Dove hums, “Yes, i love it”.

“I hate school”, Macy admits, causing Dove to chuckle for the first time in days.

“But I think i would have liked it if you were my teacher," the girl continued in a low voice.

A Peacekeeper comes over and demands that Dove stand straight so he could put the chains on.

“I think I would have liked you being in my class too”, Dove addresses the little girl while the Peacekeeper secures her wrists in heavy metal.

She bids goodbye to the little girl as she is led out to district 12’s van.

The Capitol was impressive. Just the glimpse of the street while she waited to be loaded was enough to wow her.

Everything was clean, and draped in a charming yellow light. Once it hit dark in District 12, you could only see what was in front of you. Here, the light stretched, illuminating the city.

She was shoved towards the van and takes the direction into the back.

Blake is quiet on the ride back. He doesn’t look at Dove, or acknowledge what they just went through.

Dove tries not to bother him, but she notices the changes made. His long dark hair was cut back, his eyebrow seemed darker and neater, the three day growth was now gone, leaving him baby faced once more. He used to have a mole on the top right of his head that was now zapped off.

He no longer looked like a district 12 boy but this year's capitol tribute.

The ride back seemed longer. When the doors were finally opened,they were not in the underground parking lot but somewhere else entirely.

The sight of a group of Peacekeepers greeted them. They wore high ranking uniforms and stood in front of a lit garden.

“Eastgate”, the Peacekeeper called.

Dove got up at the sound of her name and made her way out. Blake rose also and followed.

“Only the girl”, they pushed Blake back into the van.

Dove turns back in panic. The last view of Blake's worried face before the doors closed on him, and the van took off.

Her breath got caught in her throat. Why only her? And why was the van leaving? Was she not to return? Did they plan to kill her before the Games even begin?

A Peacekeeper takes hold of her arm and leads her where he wants to go, forcing her head straight away.

The sight of the presidential estate made her knees weak. She knew it from pictures and television, but not once did she think she would ever see it in the flesh.

It was much larger than the images portrayed. Much grander, and the stone was unfathomably white.

The steps alone took ages to climb, before they even reached the towering doors. Inside felt like a field. The hardwood floor was covered in different, expensive rugs and the decor tried to fill the empty space.

It was another long walk to the room they wanted her in. It was a sitting room with more expensive rugs, an unlit fireplace, and collections of places to sit and talk.

“Why am I here?”, she asked the Peacekeeper as he took off her cuffs.

He smirks back to her, not taking his eyes off his work, “President Snow requested it”.

His smile was mean, and spoke of an underlying threat to her presence there.

The Peacekeepers left her there in the dark room. She tried to think what separated her from Blake, and soon realised her mistake.

She spoke out against the Capitol. ‘We don't have to do this’, who was she to say that?

President Snow wanted to remind her of her place. That why she was brought here.

Dove begins to cry thinking about her fate. Best was a quick death, worst was tortured and then thrown to the Hunger games, middle ground was losing her tongue. Anyway she could not face it with a brave front.

No one could ask her to. Dove would not consider herself a brave person. Meak in nature, and kind in spirit. She was not a person who could take punishment without quivering.

She clutches the soft fabric of the chair in front of her. Her knees wobble under her, and her sight is impaired with tears.

Still she wouldn’t turn back time and revoke her tribute. Mary-blu was a child. Her first year in the lot didn’t seem fair.

Dove always wondered how her name was never called anyway. Her name was in it 10 times. 8 times over 12-19 years, and two more times when desperation sought her to swap her chance of life for supplies. But she never was. She thought she was free until now.

The door opens, letting in a flood of light before it is blocked by a body.

Dove couldn’t see who it was until the door was locked again. President Snow stood tall, dressed in all black and a head full of perfect, blonde curls.

“Miss Eastgate” the president addresses, flicking on the light.

“President Snow” Dove greets. She was surprised to see him and not a representative.

He reaches into his suit pocket and retrieves a pure white handkerchief that boasted his initials in gold stitching.

He passes it to Dove who takes it with trembling hands to wipe her tears.

“Please sit” he commands.

Doves’ weak legs take her to the front of the chair where she sat in front of a cold fireplace.

The president takes the seat next to her, only separated by a small table. She was surprised at the civility of it all.

Dove curls herself into a ball on the large chair while the president crosses his legs in a relaxed manner.

“So you plan to die a martyr?” he asks.

Dove daps more tears as they fall, “She was only a little girl”, you explain.

“Hmm” President Snow agrees, “You see Miss Eastgate, you did a very brave thing, no doubt. But a stupid thing all the same. You see, it was important to me that Mary-Blu was this years tribute, and I don’t like when plans change”.

Dove looks up to his striking blue eyes, now with fury at his concession.

“It weren’t chance her name was picked, was it?”, she asks.

A sly smile plays at his lips, and he brings his head to rest on his hand. “And how would it look if she got picked again? Even if a few years pass, what are the odds her name gets picked twice?”.

“She’s a child” Dove's voice was stronger than she felt, “What fight have you got with Mary-blu?”.

“It's complicated”, he said bored. His chin remained propped up by his hand, “She’s the daughter of a cousin of my enemy. And I would have liked to have reminded them that I have not forgotten”.

“I think they know”, her voice is horse again, and she can no longer take his stare so she turns her body back to the empty fireplace.

“I don’t mind then” she states bravely, “Am I being punished for taking her place or for my outburst on stage?”.

“Punished?” Coriolanus questions, “Who said you’re to be punished?”

She turns back to him, now hopeful, “is that not why I am here? To be tortured or have my tongue cut?”

The president laughs, whole heartedly, throwing his head back and filing the tense room with his enjoyment.

“Over my white carpet, you think?”, he laughs.

Dove hated feeling like a fool, she was clearly expecting to be taken elsewhere for the torturing side.

“The fire isn’t on. I wasn’t expecting to be here long” she defends.

“Would you like me to light it?” Coriolanus asks with a grin.

“I would like to go”, she honestly answers.

“Tell me about yourself”, Coiolanus ignores her request,

“I think you know”, she bites.

Coriolanus uncrosses his legs, his amusement is now overtaken by his hard scowl. The dim lighting in the room cast across his face, displaying his displeasure of being talk to like that.

“Humor me”, He requests, “You’ve robbed me of my tribute, I should at least know who replaces her”.

Dove decides to play along. He was the president. The most powerful man in the world. She was nothing. A plaything soon to be dead.

“I am a school teacher. Was”, she corrects with a hard tone, “I taught Mary-Blue. She’s a good kid. They are all good kids. I keep the books for the seams bakery to help make ends meet”.

“Kept” Coriolanus corrects.

Tears swell once more, “Yes, kept”, she agrees, using his handkerchief to dap away more tears.

“And your parents?”Coriolanus pushes, although he already knew.

“Dead. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father died when I was 15 from fever”.

“You’ve been alone ever since?”, he quizzes.

“Yes. The children take up a large part of my life. Took” she corrects herself.

Coriolanus grins, turning his eyesight from her to the unlit fireplace.

“You intrigue me, Miss Eastgate” he admits, “From all accounts, you seem to be a good person”, the President stands, putting his hands in his pockets, still not casting his sight to her, “Lets see how long that goodness lasts in the arena”.

Dove sniffles in response, despite its use she does not use the handkerchief to dap her running nose. Snow rampages through his pocket looking for something before turning to her, and holding out his hand for his handkerchief. She returns it to him in haste, but he doesn’t leave as expected.

Instead, he grabs her chin and raises it up to him, wiping the tears on her cheeks away.

She wanted to yank herself away but as President of Panem, he could do as he liked.

“People are terrible creatures, Miss Eastgate. Something you are about to learn. You be worse, or they’ll tear you to shreds in there”.

He returns his handkerchief to his pocket and leaves the room without further word.

She always expected the President to be odd. Out of touch, and egotistical. She wasn’t wrong. But there was something further off putting about him that left Dove feeling cold from his presence.

She was grateful when a Peacekeeper came to collect her moments later. If she never saw President Snow again, it would be a blessing.

Blake is asleep when she reaches the apartment. The mentor is not, and he blasts Dove all about her visit with the president. He had also thought she wasn't going to return unscathed.

Dove only mentions President Snow had met with her briefly to discuss why she volunteered. She never mentions his vendetta against Mary-Blu. She was smart enough to know he told her that in confidence.

Dove couldn’t sleep that night. The odd encounter replayed through her mind until she was forced to get up.

She tries to be quiet as she pads around the apartment, trying to tire herself enough to fall asleep.

Blake also must have been having trouble, as he popped his head out of his room only ten minutes after Dove began to pace.

“Hey Blake”, Dove greeted with a soft smile.

“Stop doing that”, Blake demanded, “Stop trying to make me like you”.

Dove scoffs, rolling her eyes at the man who approached her.

“I’ll try my best”, Dove retorts.

“I heard you with Red. Did you really meet President Snow?” he asked.

“Yes”, Dove confirmed.

“I always wondered what he was like”, Blake confessed, “He seems so calculated on television”.

“He’s odd” Dove describes, “Nothing but an egotistical maniac. I am glad I never have to see him again”.

“Of course he is”, Blake takes a seat on the nearby stool, facing her. “I am glad he didn’t hurt you”.

Dove crosses her arms across her chest, feeling vulnerable. “Me too. I thought for sure I was going to be tortured for messing with the Capitol way”.

“Do you regret it?” Blake questions, “taking her palace?”

“No”, Dove answers honestly, “But I am not thrilled all the same”.

Blakes face turned from curious to dread within a second, making Dove wonder what crossed his mind. She is grateful when he talks his thoughts.

“You taught my brother, you know?”, he says, “He used to love you. When he had to get a job in the mines, he cried for weeks. Dumb as rocks, you couldn’t teach him anything, but you are the only kindness those kids knew”.

Her heart fluttered at his words. If it was said in any other way, in any other context she would have cherished his words, but now she was left thinking of all the kids she left behind.

“How am I supposed to compete against that?” he angrily asked, ‘’you’ll be remembered as the sweet school teacher who gave her life up in the games, and i’ll be a vague memory of some faceless minor”.

Dove reaches out in comfort, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You’ll be missed”, she promises him, “You may think you’re only a faceless minor, but you’re more important than you realise. Too important to die in these games. It’s not fair we have to do this. I’d love to see President Snow in there, rather than you. I’d give anything for it”.

Blake stands up, brushing her hand off.

“Yeah” Blake agrees in a tight voice. He is turning his body back to his bedroom as he throws back his last word; “Whatever”.

The next day starts with a lush breakfast and then filled with Red trying to find angles for the upcoming interviews.

It’s important, he lectures, to get people to like you instantly. You need to be a sure winner or as interesting as possible. Anything else left you starving in the area.

He didn’t talk much about his own games. Dove was under the impression he wanted to forget.

They practiced answers and responses breaking for lunch and then returning for much of the same.

Late afternoon they were taken from the apartment for dress fittings.

Dove stood in the gym once more, only parted by thin white sheets as the stylists measured and pushed colorful fabric up to her face. She thinks it was the same team but the following day happened in such a blur.

Masel was three tenets down and Dove managed to get two or three friendly waves in.

Her team seemed nice, asking her to do things in the kidnest of tones.

Still she was thankful when dinner time rolled around and they were taken back to their apartments.

Dinner was already set on the table. Blake took a seat immediately but Dove needed to wash the swaps of makeup on her face.

She called to her team letting them know of her intentions as she retreated to her bedroom. When she opened the door, a startled yelp which had Blake shooting over, escaped her lips.

Her floor was covered in white roses held in large, heavy, stone vases. Only a path to the bed and bathroom separated the white.

Dove couldn’t even begin to count them as they reached the thousands.

The furniture was removed to make space for the large pots. Only white roses at knee length remained. Her bed was encased by them, it would be the only thing she would smell as she slept.

“What the hell is this?” Blake questioned.

He passed the door where Dove stood and picked up a rose.

“Should we throw them out?”, he asked.

“If President Snow put them there, we should leave them”, Red spoke, appearing behind Dove.

“Why would he do this?” Blake asked Dove’s question.

“I dont know”, Red addressed, “But he is know for having a fondness of white roses”

“What an odd man”, Dove states, looking at her covered room.

Red reaches out and pinches the skin of her arm, “Careful”, he warns, “Come on let's eat”.

Dinner lifted the spirits that the roses dampened. They remained seated at the table talking long after the plates had been taken away. No one mentioned Snow, or the games. Just a friendly dinner between friends.

It was startling when the phone rang in a far off room.

“I’ll find it”, Red offered, leaving the tributes at the table.

“Deaths calling” Blake joked.

“He can leave a message”, Dove quipped.

“These chocolate deserts will kill me before the games”, Blake picks up his discarded spoon and takes another scoop from his forgotten desert.

“Dove”, her name echoes through the hallway. She shares a look with Blake before going to find the room Red called out from.

She stands in front of the door waiting for her.

“It’s for you”, he says nothing more as he passes her back to the hallway.

He seemed upset and she wondered who was on the other side of the phone that wanted her that could upset him.

She goes to find out, picking up the gold and cream phone and placing it to her ear.

“Hello?” she answered the phone.

“Miss Eastgate, did you receive my flowers?”, his voice was instantly recognisable and it shot fear down her spine.

“President Snow”, she addresses, “Yes, thank you.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night”.

“Theres nothing to apologize for, sir. It was an honor to meet you”.

“Good answer”, he drawls, “But are you sure I am nothing more than egotistical maniac? An odd man? Would you just love to see me fighting for my life in the arena?”.

Dove goes silent over the line. She was sure to have the most painful death of any tribute ever. How could she protect Macey if she was the main target?

“President Snow- I” Dove stumbles for an excuse

“It’s quite alright, miss Eastgate. I have been called far worse”.

“Still I shouldn’t have” she was hesitant to repeat it, “it was a mistake”.

“I’d like you to say something nice about me now it’s just the two of us”.

“You’re the president”, was the first thing that came to Doves mind.

“Thats a statement not a compliment”, Snow demands.

“You rose to power at a young age, you must be smart”.

Snow huffs over the phone, showcasing his displeasure and Dove scrambles for something else. There was nothing she liked about the man who will kill her and innocent children.

“You are smart” she re-phrases so it sounds like less of a question, “a strong leader that has led us into prosperity”, she remembered reading that in a newspaper, “and-”

“Can you honestly think of nothing?” Snow interjects.

“President snow, I-”

“I think I have heard enough of you talking”, he bites. Dove is thankful for the excuse to stop talking.

He doesnt hang up like he should. Only awkward silence endures.

“It shouldn’t matter”, he admits, “You’re nothing”.

Dove still hangs on the promise that he doesnt want her to talk so she remains quiet. Letting him retreat back into whatever he was thinking.

“I am tired”, he says after another awkward silence, and hangs up the phone.

Dove gently places the receiver down. She looks around the room. How could he have known? There wasn’t a camera in sight. What else had he seen and heard?

A sense of violation burns inside her. An urge to get rid of the flowers that covered her room grew, but it wasn’t up to her. If president Snow placed them there, that’s where they would stay.

They were being watched. She had to tell Blake. She wondered how far the eyes and hears reached.

Was he watching when she slept? Ate? Dressed and showered?

Sick ran through her thinking of Macey. She would have to tell her too. But in a delicate way that wouldn’t scare her.

Did Red know? Was he trying to warn her before?

Dove eyes the top corner of the room. Nothing but the edging of the roof could be seen but she had a sixth sense Snow was watching her as she stared.

She was pulled from bed early the next morning and told to dress in her training uniform. It was a black sports suit with 12 in white large letters on her back.

They gave her soft black sneakers and she was told to have a quick breakfast before they had to leave. She could eat nothing, while Blake ate his full share of eggs and bacon.

They were escorted down the apartment to a large van and taken to a large gym with training equipment.

A row of treadmills, a space for weights, large metal bars used for pull ups. Peacekeepers are in every corner and a large plastic screen separates the tributes from the people in the bleachers. All with clipboards and something unusual about them.

Dove knew they were testing how strong and healthy the tributes were. The older ones would have no trouble scoring high, but she questioned why they had brought the younger ones to participate. They were children. Were they expecting them to do a chin up?

The men and women tributes are split up and Dove catches sight of the little girl from 3 who comes bouncing up to her, wrapping herself around Dove’s leg.

Dove places a hand on the child's head, looking around at the area. All the tribute wore the same thing, the only thing separating them was their district number across their backs.

A Peacekeeper barks at them to begin, and one by one the line of women and girls move.

First up was a balancing act. A long and thin beam stretched out without the protection of mats underneath. If you fell off you were sure to hurt yourself.

Dove worried about the little girl attached to her leg. She was only small. If she fell she could crack her head open. Maybe because of her size, she was only brought here to watch.

Only one tribute falls with a loud yell. A 16 year old girl from district 10, who tried to move too quickly.

It was Dove’s turn next and she implored the little girl to let go.

“You have to let go, honey” Dove requested. The little girl shook her head no and buried her face deeper into her outer thigh.

“But I want a go!” Dove said enthusiastically, pretending it was all a game.

“I am going to go really fast and beat everyone else”, she faked playfulness even though her heart was in her throat from the height. “Can you cheer for me? It’s really high and I need you to encourage me”.

The little girl pokes her head up, now thinking this display was a game.

Dove’s leg is released and she is shoved harshly by a Peacekeeper to the start.

She hears clapping as she climbs the steps up. Don’t look down, she reminds herself.

“Go Miss Dove!” the girl cheered.

“Whoo!” Dove yells back excitingly. She keeps her eyes straight and breath in her chest as she shuffles along the high beam. Her knocking knees did not aid her in her effort not to fall.

It was high, too high. Did they want broken bones before the games? Was it a way to impair the older tributes for a fair game?

“Almost there, Miss Dove,” the girl yelled.

Her arms flared out balanced her more but her feet wobbled the further she got.

She felt herself tilting as she neared the end, and rushed to safety of the podium on the other side. She throws herself forward, just getting the edge of the block before her fall to the ground.

“Whoo! You did it!” Macy cheered, clapping

“I did it!” Dove shouts back over her panic, “It’s a little high for you, darling. How about we move on to the next one?”.

She raises to her feet, eager to take the little girl to the next activity.

But a Peacekeeper holds the little girl from escaping and urges her to begin.

‘Wait!” Dove yelled. She could hear the scribbling of the pencils as she rushes back to the start.

They could mean to make her walk it. Dove is blocked from the stairs by Peacekeeper so she yells from under the beam,

“It’s too high for a child. Score her 0 and let us move on”, Dove begged.

“All tributes are to be assessed equally” the Peacekeeper shouted back.

Macey is shoved forward and she buckles to the ground, Holding on to the beam with her little hands.

“Why shouldn’t she!” another tribute call out from the back of the line, “we have to!”

Dove ignores her, focusing on the little girl.

“Go!” the Peacekeeper kicks the childs butt, and her wails fill the space.

“It’s okay baby”, Dove shouts, “Just crawl. You don’t have to stand. Look I am right here to catch you if you fall”.

With another harsh shout from the Peacekeeper macey begins to crawl along the beam slowly.

“Whoo!” Dove cheers, “What a big, strong, girl you are!”.

Her clapping is met with dismay as the height appears to grow underneath Macey.

“I am right here” Dove promises, “I’ll catch you”.

She follows the small girls pace with open arms, ready to make good on her promise.

“You’re doing it Macey!” She calls up, “Don’t stop! You’re in the lead!”

The little girls crying stopped and her crawling became faster at the thought of winning the game.

Dove jumps as the girl makes it to safety, her excitement pours through, screaming and clapping as the girl drags herself to the podium. The other tributes cheer, making Macey stand up and flash a smile. She had won the game.

A peacekeeper tells them to keep it moving and Dove collects her small friend from the end.

She leads the girl by her small hand, giving it a comforting pat.

“Good girl” Dove praises.

She was too old to buy into it completely. But the little girl faked belief.

The next activity was weights. At least this time the playing field evened.

They were told to do various exercises with the weights to showcase their strength. Dove did poorly on all of them. Her strength was nothing to be feared by other tributes.

They were sweaty and hot by the time they were finished. A short break followed.

Doves raced to the water station with her shadow following her. She passes the first cup from the cooler back to her friend before taking one for herself.

The little girl downs it and Dove gets her another one. She smiles at the little girl, leaning back against the wall to catch her breath.

A feeling she is being watched erks her. She could shake it while she trained. She of course was being watch then, but as she rested she still feel the presence of peering eyes.

She follows the feeling up to the height of the bleaches to catch the eye of President Snow. A shock shoots through her. How long had he been there for? Why would the president concern himself with the tributes scoring?

He doesn’t look away even though Dove had caught him. Its her who backs down first. She takes the little girls shoulder and moves on to the next activity before their break was over.

His eyes don’t shift from her, she can feel it. But she ignores it all the same.

The monkey bars are less high but the weights have left her muscles feeling shaky.

Macys arms dont reach to the next ring so she gets a 0 and is allowed to move on.

Dove goes next. Her arm muscle strains from the pressure. She manages to swing across three but loses her grip on the fourth and crashes to the ground.

She lands on her ankle. The cry of pain crosses over the sound of the training tributes. All stop to look at the hurt tribute.

President Snow rises from his chair but makes no further movement. It was Blake who came running from his own course to help Dove from the floor. He throws her arm over his shoulder and hoists her up from the ground. He helps her shuffle out of the way so other tributes could continue.

A murmur crosses the normally silent observers as President Snow makes his way down the bleachers and out the door.

A whistle blows, calling for lunch.

Dove thanks her fellow tribute as he helps her to the lunch table.

It was a relief to go back to the apartment. Doves whole body ached. Her ankle swelled to the point she struggled to take her training suit off.

It was thankfully just twisted, but was sure to lower her score and following donations in the arena.

The hot bath struck the tenderness of her ankle, but she forced it under in an attempt to sooth the bruised muscles.

She rests her head back against the marble tub, trying her best to keep her thoughts from spirling.

“Dove” her mentor calls, knocking on the door, it causes her to jump from the suddenness “Dove, the Peacekeepers are here to collect you”.

The news racks a sob through her body. Snow was calling on her again. Her spirit and her body was weak, now he plans to torment her more. A comfortable bed was all she longed for, and now it slipped far from her fingers.

Red knocked again, repeating his sentence.

Dove splashes the warm water on her face before rising herself on her good foot.

She lets him know she is coming. There was no need to send Peacekeepers in to fasten her.

Besides her training uniform, all she had was her pajamas. Unsure she could get her training uniform over her sore ankle, she puts on her pajamas.

She is met with two fully dressed Peacekeepers and the shocked face of Red when she opened the door.

“You can’t wear that” Red spoke.

“I cant put my training uniform over my ankle” She explained.

“Come with me” Red offered, taking her arm but the mentor is stopped by the two Peacekeepers.

“President Snow is waiting”, one of them spoke, “He doesnt like waiting”

“And he really wont like it when a tribute is taking to his presence in her pajamas will he?” Red shot back.

“We’ll be two seconds”, Red demanded pushing past the Peacekeepers with Dove in tow,

He takes her back to his own room where he shuffles through his many suitcases.

He throws a black singlet, a black leather jacket with charms over it, and dark purple pants with pockets running down the legs, on the bed.

“You can borrow those”, he comments as he walks past her.

She takes his arm to stop him, “Thank you”, she breathes.

Red knocks her chin gently in encouragement, “I remember meeting him when I won the games. How scared I was. I am sorry you struck a chord with him”.

“I’ll be dead soon anyway” she scoffs. Snow could do whatever he liked, she only had 2 weeks left to live.

“Get dressed. We shouldn’t push his patience”.

Her comment was not found amusing to Red, who’s tone turned hard, and he left without eye contact.

Dove was put back in the van. It was cold and dark in the back. It was a full moon but with no windows, no light. Despite how tired she was, she could not rest.

There were no chains upon her. She wondered if it was because President Snow forbade it, or if it was just because she posed no threat.

Who fears a school teacher. She was going to be one of the first to die.

When they finally opened the back of the van, the light from the sky and presidential mansion hurt her eyes.

She felt blinded stepping down. If it wasn’t for the Peacekeeper’s grip on her arm, she never would have found her way down.

With her sore ankle the walk up the long steps and into the room she was originally brought to was slow. No one hurried her so she took caution with the weight she distributed to it.

This time the fire was lit in the room. Lamps were turned on to help illuminate but not brighten the room.

The Peacekeeper left her there without instructions, and she went straight to her chair. The warm fire positioned in front of it, welcomed her.

A new foot rest had been placed in front of it. The metal was gold, and she couldn't even begin to guess what the colourful fabric on top was made out of.

It was soft though, and just what her ankle needed.

The warm fire lulled her into a sleepy state. Her eyes began to become heavy. She rested her head against the chair, almost falling asleep before the door is pushed open.

She takes her foot off the rest, and sits up straighter, less he think she was relaxing in his presence.

“Dove”, President Snow says. She is shocked at the familiarity. It was better when he called her Miss Eastgate.

He was carrying an ice pack. She knew what it was despite it being different then the districts. Blue and rectangle without a single drop of condensation. It would stay cold for hours without leaving a wet trail.

“How’s your ankle?” he asks.

Her heart froze when he knelt down on the floor, and took her ankle into his hand, gently raising it onto the rest and placing the ice pack over it.

He looks up at her expecting an answer.

“Fine, sir. Thank you”, she answers.

His spare hand went to the side of her ankle pressing it against the ice pack.

“I don’t need the ice, really”, although the coolness was comforting, having the president knelt down by her feet felt uneasy.

He leaves the ice pack resting against her foot but does rise from the ground to this chair.

“That girl lowered your score today. If you can’t show the capitol you have a chance of winning they wont sponsor you”

“I’ll be dead within the first day. A sponsor wont change that”.

His eyes flick to hers, carrying a quiet rage.

“Do you want to die?”, he asks.

“No” she honestly admits, “But I won’t kill, and I would give my life for any child in that arena”.

“You’re foolish, Dove”, he turns from her to the fire and straightens out his suit pants, “You’ll kill Dove. You’ll abandon those children, and your morals”.

“With the terror of being prey, see how quickly we become predator”, he mutters to himself.

“President Snow, I would like to go back. I am quite tired” Dove begs.

“Too bad”, the response was cold and uncaring. He switches although turning his head to look at her and speaking in a soft voice,

“Just sit a few more minutes with me. Put your head back”, he requests.

You turn back to the fire but do not relax in his presence.

He makes no further conversation. Both of you sit memorized by the fire.

10 minutes pass of this stalemate. You think soon it must come to an end,

Suddenly, President Snow leaves the room without a word. Dove watches as he storms out of the door.

She sighs a breath of relief watching him go, and expects a Peacekeeper soon to come to collect her.

No one did, however. She grew frustrated, hobbling over to the door herself. It was of course locked. With her effort wasted she climbs back into her seat, resting her feet up on the cushion, and her head against the chair.

With the fire for warmth, it was comfortable enough to go to sleep.

She suspected only a few moments before a Peacekeeper would wake her up and take her back to the apartment.

But the night turned and the fire lost its warmth.

Dove awakes from the cold. The fire was only small now and soon to die out.

She sees the outstretched legs of President Snow next to her. His shiny expensive shoes, and perfectly tailored suit pants.

He was resting his head in his hands, staring at the dying fire.

“President snow?” Dove addresses.

He remains looking ahead, giving no sign he heard her.

Why didn’t he wake her up? Why would he take a seat and waste his time next to her?

“I think I should go back now”, she continued, making a move to get up.

“Yes, I think you should”, he replies, still gazing ahead.

He pulls a small clicker out of his pocket, and a knock at the door is heard less than 30 seconds later.

A Peacekeeper enters the room without a word and stands by the door.

Snow continues to act indifferent, watching the dwindling fire, as Dove limps over to the door.

“Dove?”, she hears him call. The Peacekeeper jested to turn back so she did.

He sat still in the same position.

“I’ll call for you tomorrow night. Have Red put you in something decent to wear”.

You freeze, you didn’t want to be continually called by Snow.

The Peacekeeper moves you on and Snow remains seated, looking at the fire.

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

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aeternallis · 11 months ago

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Colin's "entrapment" line was hard to listen to, but it was most definitely a sign of how unhinged he really is for Penelope.

Ok but for reals, I'm not sure how everyone else reacted when Colin said his now infamous "entrapment" line, but I just love how if one looks at this line a little more closely, it was definitely some semblance of an underhanded (and also a bit silly, lol) attempt to actually keep Penelope entrapped. Haha, the irony of it all. Idk, at least that was my read on it!

Like, it was definitely said in anger as well; he's hurting, and he’s hurting badly, so of course he wants to hit back in some way, however he can. Luke Newton absolutely meant it when he said that Colin reacts to the reveal in the worst way possible, alas.

My very first reaction to that scene: //pauses the screen to yell at Colin at 4am in the morning, “Entrapment????! If you feel trapped, then why the hell are you still going along with it, ya dumb ass!!!

Because really, think about it: Colin was definitely within his rights to call off the wedding, especially when he'd mentioned that Violet had noticed that he and Penelope had not seen each other for some time. It would have been the perfect time to reveal Penelope's secret to his mother, if indeed he felt entrapped by the LW of it all. Violet is family; if he wanted to still protect Penelope but no longer wanted to marry her, he would have been able to count on Violet's discretion. I'm sure she and Lady Danbury would have come up with some sort of plan to deal with the aftermath regarding the Bridgertons’ reputation, as we'd seen with Anthony and Edwina's botched wedding.

Furthermore, it would have probably been the better option to reveal it to her, since the existence of LW does put his family in danger; Penelope herself knows this. Every decision she makes post-LW reveal to Colin is due to the Bridgertons being in danger. Lady Danbury makes a point of this when she said in the last episode, “There is only one other person who loves the Bridgertons more than I.”

Eloise was able to keep the secret with no real consequences because although Penelope was her ex-bff, El still loves her, and besides that, nothing legal binds them as Colin's marriage to Penelope would.

Even when he was getting ready to talk to Benedict about getting funds to fulfill Cressida’s demands, he insisted on making up a lie to shield Penelope’s identity as LW. He knows more than anything that fulfilling a demand like this, all for the sake of his wife and at the cost of using a substantial amount of Bridgertons’ financial assets, may not put his marriage in the best light within his family. He doesn’t want to be forced to have to choose between his wife and his family, so he’s keen on keeping the lie going.

So for all intents and purposes, he doesn't tell his mother, or any of his other siblings (besides Eloise, who already knew); this in and of itself is hella fucking risky. The fact that Colin is willing to take this risk of withholding Penelope's secret identity from his family, the fact that he doesn't think to jeopardize this potentially risky betrothal—already goes to show the measure in regards to how much he wants Pen for his wife. We the audience know this because he waits until the very last minute to tell Violet, and even then, it's not Colin who chose to reveal it to her, but Penelope herself.

Another point: arguably, we can also say that Colin has a lot more wiggle room with his engagement to Penelope to call off the wedding, much more than he ever did with his engagement to Marina.

"A man of honor"? Exactly what "honor" are we talking about here? Colin claimed that he would have married Marina had she just told him the truth, yet when push came to shove and the truth of her pregnancy was revealed for all the world to know, he still chose to take the out Penelope gave him through LW. It’s easier to make a declaration like that when it’s all said and done. Lol Sure, he regretted it and apologized for his behavior later on, but he had made his choice regardless. Y’all can just feel Marina and Lady Danbury judging this dumb ass (affectionate) for dwelling in the past. Silly young man! XD What's stopping him this time around?

"We had been...intimate." Are you talking about the mirror scene, sir? Because let me assure you, you and Penelope have long been "intimate" way before you decided to buy a love nest and take her V-card the very next day you proposed to her. In fact, this is where the significance of their first kiss in 3.02 rings so, SO importantly and WHY it was vital that it was Penelope who asked and said that it would not have to mean anything. Colin knows Penelope would never use their first time together and/or the heated moment in the carriage as a way to entrap him. That first kiss alone should have already warranted that they get married, but Penelope makes it clear that it’s simply a favor, nothing more.

Oddly enough, I’m surprised Colin doesn’t bring up the idea of a long engagement (yknow, as he initially wanted with Marina, but who’s keeping track at this point), considering that would have potentially benefitted their situation. 🤔 His dumb ass (affectionate) was more than willing to stick to the wedding schedule…huh.

Besides all that, I don’t think it’s the showrunners’ intent to “taint” those special moments between them by changing the context through Colin’s (very biased) POV; to believe that to be the case would be, imo, just a bad faith argument. The genre is romance, y’all; these intimacy scenes are on an entirely different pedestal.

Because remember, that “entrapment” line of Colin’s only came about due to Penelope starting the conversation with, “Are you going to call off the wedding?”

Didn’t it almost seem like an afterthought, that he just came up with it on the spot? Hahaha.

I can bet y’all Cressida’s fake ass €20,000 blackmail money that before they’d met up to discuss wedding breakfast plans with their mamas, it had probably never even occurred to Colin to cancel their wedding. Angry and furious as he was, it was never a question of whether or not he still wanted Penelope for a wife.

The fact that it’s Penelope who begins that conversation and opens that Pandora’s box possibility is so, so damn important. Because not only does it show how much Penelope truly loves him in that she would never trap him, it also shows her maturity, in that she’s willing to face the consequences of her actions. She’s willing to give Colin the choice to back out, heartbreaking as it would be to face it, even if she herself would not be the one to pursue that choice.

She gives him the choice a good number of times: the wedding breakfast plan scene, the wedding day itself when she hesitates on the aisle, and the annulment offer after the butterfly scene.

Penelope defends herself softly, but truthfully: she never meant to entrap him, because she really didn’t. And Colin knows this; he would not still love her and want her if he honestly believed she wanted to entrap him. Hell, even if she did, the audience knows it’s a desire that comes from a good place: she loves him, so of course she doesn’t want to lose him. She wants to marry him, because she loves him. That’s all there is to it.

But despite knowing this (imo, anyway), we can also say that this conversation may have contributed to Colin’s downward spiral during the majority of episode 7 and 8, and why he becomes hella fucking desperate to be “useful” to her.

Because unlike himself, Penelope has now begun to entertain the idea of living a life that doesn’t include him—at least, not as her husband. Penelope is brave and strong enough to let him go due to the pain she caused him for her lies and her actions as LW, and as for Colin…well…

(I love it, it’s the same conundrum that Anthony faced in S2: Kate is strong enough to leave him behind and return to India, but Anthony…well…)

TL;DR, Colin’s entrapment line was literally an excuse he gave himself to keep his betrothal to Penelope intact. It’s a line that works in two ways simultaneously: it’s a painful, childish, underhanded thing to say in order to hurt Penelope’s feelings, to get back at her for the anguish he’s suffered. Yet at the same time, it’s also another excuse he gives himself in order to push through with the marriage, to tie Penelope to himself forever.

Because unlike Penelope, the very idea of living without her as his wife, of not having her in his life, is and always will be an impossible notion for Colin to ever entertain.

#polin #bridgerton #meta post #meta #I love these two a lot

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