Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Just think about it." His voice was soft in the night. He often spoke to her like a wrong inflection would shatter her. "We'll be far from Twelve. Far from the lake. I can put food on the table. Whole turkeys with jelly glaze. Meatloaf with ketchup and mashed potatoes. That could be ours. We don't have to starve anymore."

Lucy Gray woke up to her stomach growling. The pain was that gnawing emptiness that came from sleep. She often woke up empty here.

She had never been so high up before. The added elevation of the Capitol, then the high rise apartment sat amongst the clouds. When she looked out, there were clouds covering the city below. It reminded her of when neighbors don't want to see you fighting in the streets so they close their blinds. They're still listening though.

The apartment had been quiet since the Grandma’am passed. Lucy Gray was appropriately distraught for the news coverage. A loving matriarch from a time long past signifying the end of an era. The performance was one of her better ones. Lucy Gray never let slip any of the awful things the Grandma'am would hiss at her. The spite that always fell out of her mouth. It corroded Lucy Gray in the beginning. What a relief that first silent morning.

Now as she moved throughout the nearly vacant halls, all she heard was the sounds of her own feet sticking against the cold floor. That, and the Avoxes breathing. But they were supposed to be quiet. Lucy just assumed she had a better ear than most. Or the breath of another would never be just white noise to her.

The dining room was warmer than the other rooms. Soundproof and sound dampening. words didn't bounce off walls here, they were absorbed.

A plate appeared in front of Lucy Gray as she sat at her end of the table. Bacon still sizzling, eggs with perfectly runny yolks, golden triangles of toast. Her stomach roared again, reminding her that it would, and could, eat her alive.

"Thank you, Jasmine." Lucy Gray said after her. The Avox was already by the door waiting and staring ahead. She thought back to Jasmine's file. Stealing a loaf of bread hardly seemed like a crime worthy of getting your tongue cut out. But it was a tried and true sentence.

"I want to know who's gonna be in our home," Lucy Gray had told him.

"I wouldn't put anyone dangerous in my home," He told her. "You're too precious."

"I’d just rather know more about them than they do me." That he considered. He understood power, hearing the upper hand. It wasn't the first time she told him a half truth. And it wouldn’t be the last.

He grew a satisfied grin. "I'll get you their files."

Lucy Gray shivered and picked up her toast. It was still warm and soaked with butter and salt. She chewed slowly, self consciously. As if the only sound in the whole room was her eating. How ostentatious it was for her to devour anything. How rude she was for being hungry in a place like this, on top of the world. 

From the far side of the table, a door opened. Lucy Gray didn't jolt at the loud banging of the door against the wall, nor the clatting heels.

"Mrs. Snow! Mrs. Snow!" Beatrice's voice was squeaky and high, prone to cracking. 

Lucy Gray gritted her teeth. It wasn't the poor girl's fault. She was sure that habit was beaten into her.

"Beatrice, what have I told you?"

A punctuated squeak came from her, like Maude Ivory would do when she was caught with something she wasn’t supposed to have. "Lucy Gray. I'm sorry- I am- I just -"

"I know," She said, cutting her off. "I understand. That don't mean I won't correct you. But I understand"

Beatrice folded in on herself. "Yes ma'am."

Lucy Gray shivered again. “Now what do you have for me, darling?"

Beatrice perked up and skipped forward. She took the seat one down from Lucy Gray, another cold habit.

"Tonight is the victory party for The Games," Beatrice said. “You'll need to be dressed and ready by six. Your team will-"

"Cancel them," Lucy Gray said. "I don't want no one touchin’ my face. I can do my own makeup and hair."

"Right," Beatrice said, tapping on her little screen in her hand. "Would you like me to tell Miss Tigris not to come also?"

Lucy Gray straightened up. “No, No. Tigris can come. I-" Her words stopped short as she tried to remember the conversations she held with Tigris recently. "I forgot she was making me a dress."

"Doesn't she make you a dress every year, ma'am?"

Every year , made Lucy Gray sick, the eggs and bacon threatening to make their way back up. It was almost a decade. Nine long years of playing dress up and house. Every year , had a perpetuity to it. Every year since and after. A life of endless death dipped in glitter and jewels.

"Yes... She does." Lucy Gray said. She shook off the ghosts in her mind and blinked hard. "So hows the boy doin’?"

Lucy Gray made it a point not to watch the Games. Everyone was supposed to. But enough money could buy all sorts of privileges. A TV that gets turned off. A camera shifted ever so slightly to the right over the course of six months. She lived the Games. The last thing she wanted to do was bear witness to them. There were a lot of things she could avoid that most Victors couldn't. It came with the name.

"The medics killed his fever and the whole arm was successfully amputated," Beatrice tapped. "It's a good thing he won't have to work in the yard anymore. He'll never swing that ax again." Beatrice did all she could to stifle the little laugh that bubbled up from her chest.

Lucy Gray gripped her fork. How easy it would have been to take the fork and plunge it into Beatrice's neck. How she could do that to herself if she wanted to.

"Had he been working there long?" she asked, her voice shaking. "He's only 15."

"Apparently, he's been working since he was eight when his mother fell into a wood Chipper," she said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. "His father died when he was three so he's had to work."

Lucy Gray dropped the silverware onto the china. It clattered and rang against the empty plate. Beatrice jumped and squeaked. "How clumsy of me," She would have said. She would have been so much nicer to Beatrice if it was easier.

"Tell Tigris I'll be in the garden," Lucy Gray stood up and pulled her robe closed.

That was the only good thing that woman ever did. The rooftop garden was an oasis, a mirage in the middle of a desert. The foliage curled and sprouted the bronze rods that somehow reached even further into the sky. They encircled her, creating a dome above her head.

Something about seeing the sky made her start to hum. It surprised her how easily the melody came to her. Music was so hard to find here.

She wandered the paths lined with rose bushes. Every color imaginable grew in order around the Grandma’am's favorite place. The hues blended into each other as the bushes were allowed to grow side by side. A rainbow of sickly sweet and razor sharp flowers. How meticulous he was about keeping them alive. How obsessed he was with them thriving.

To the very back she went, where the plant life was lush and thick. Of course there were cameras. Her life was on record since her daddy got shot in the crowd. But in this snug little corner she could almost smell free air. Clean and uninterrupted. She could almost...

Lucy Gray's hand stopped a foot out of the bars. A strange buzzing ran up her arm and she bolted back as quickly as she could. It was a small reprieve held here, reaching into the endless sky to feel the nothingness under her. She could almost dream of being a mockingbird, of taking flight, of letting go of purchase.

She looked closely at her handprint as it faded away into the sky. What an odd thing. An additional layer. Just to be extra sure. She wondered how far it went. A small leaf from a tree shouldn't cause much suspicion. It could have fallen off at any time. Naturally.

She moved her hand slowly to brush the plant next to her, raising her arms to fold over the little ledge. She rested her chin on her forearm and found the leaf in her palm. With as little movement as possible, she dropped it off the side.

How envious she felt as it twirled in the air it caught.

And then it stopped. Seemingly in thin air it hung. A faint blue glow created an outline around it. Like her hand print hung, framed in nothing.

"Interesting." she said to herself.

"Interesting," Her voice called back. Lucy Gray jumped back. The blue-black bird looked back at her, turning his head innocently.

Another small rage filled her as she swung at it. She had asked for a Mockingjay, once upon a time. A little something from home. When he came back, he brought these . Breathing recording devices. "They can sing with you," He said. "Mockingjays refuse to be caught." She watched him smile at that. He was staring right at her.

Her hand hit the branch it was on. The movement and noise made the thing fly away.

"Get!" She said after it. They were domesticated things. All they knew was how to cuddle up to people. It was cruel of her to blame them, for their shared lot in life.

"Lucy Gray?" Tigris' voice was as delicate as she was. She was still thin as a rail as the day they met. Lucy Gray knew she had access to any food she could ever want. She knew Tigris didn't have to wear her hunger on her sleeve. Lucy Gray always wondered if abstention would prove anything.

"Tigris!" Lucy Gray gasped. "I am so sorry, I didn't mean for you to see one of my conniptions."

Tigris shook her head. "Those things can drive you crazy... I understand."

"You're sweet," Lucy Gray said. They sat together in silence for a moment. "I haven't seen you in a month of Sundays. How've you been?"

Her face flushed a bit, like she was embarrassed or shy. Tigris was demure, but Lucy considered her her oldest friend. "I've been excellent, actually. Going from one commission to the next. And I was just offered to do a line for Clemensia's."

His old classmate with colors embedded in her skin and the cold eyes. She had opened a Boutique when she graduated university. They sold everything from clothes to body mods. You could buy a fluorescent gown and turn your flesh a matching color. It was very popular.

"Oh, Tiggy, that's amazing. Congrats, really.” Lucy Gray said. "No one in this whole City is as talented as you."

"You're too nice," Tigris said, blushing even harder. "I wouldn't have gotten any where if not for-"

Tigris stopped as Lucy Gray was suddenly up close, grasping her hand.

"Don't... " She said, giving Tigris that stern look she'd give Maude Ivory when she was fibbing. "I ain't nice for nice sake. You earned everything you've got. You hear me?"

Tigris' embarrassment faded. She stood taller and looked her in the eyes. Lucy Gray could see the woman she was.

"I'm hoping to get out of the Games.” She whispered. During the Games, She designed the interview outfits for the tributes. Good money for a week's worth of work. But she was right there with each of them, knowing them better than anyone else in the Capitol dared. She made them look good, she gave them their last ounce of humanity. Tigris gave so many children their last rights in this horrid world. She squeezed Lucy Gray's hand. "I can't do this forever."

Lucy Gray tilted her head to the side and blinked away her tears. She squeezed back. She couldn't find the words to agree with her, or disagree, or wonder what she meant. Because Lucy Gray knew what her cousin-in-law was saying to her. And there were no words that wouldn't worry her, or put her at ease.

There were no words the Jabberjays wouldn't hear.

"I heard you made a dress for me," She said instead. "Why don't you show me?"

The dress was hanging in Lucy Gray's powder room. It was already out of the dust bag. The light caught the thousands of hand sewn crystals that hung from the dress' silvery fabric. It would drape over her as if the stones were a part of her, a second skin. The composition was immaculate. The details were dire.

The silhouette was sleek and classic. He liked her in classic, yet fashionable. The hem mocked a trumpet, pooling around her feet like a puddle. The neckline was high, conservative, barely allowing her collarbones to peek through. The shoulder pad was elevated but not extreme. The crystals fell all the way down the left sleeve. Lucy Gray could feel like she was clad in a thick armor.

Except for her right arm. The dress was lacking a right arm completely. A swooping strap reached from the rest of the dress so she wouldn't be exposed. But her arm would be vulnerable and open.

That alone made Lucy Gray's stomach turn. The worst of it came at the very edge of the fabric. So subtle that from afar, under harsh lights, no one would be able to see it. Red crystals dripped from the arm opening. Thin lines on them refracting light that caught the other stones, giving a swollen, throbbing effect.

When she turned to look at Tigris, there was already so much hurt in her eyes.

"He insisted ."

"On the no sleeve either, I'd imagine?"

Tigris just sighed. How was anyone supposed to say no to him?

Lucy Gray thumbed the fabric, feeling each facet poke into her skin.

"Thank you, Tigris. It's Beautiful." She reached for her cousin-in-law and wrapped her in a tight hug. "Will you be there tonight?"

Tigris shook her head."I'm having a small watch party at my home..."

"Ah... Wish I'd thought of that." Lucy Gray said.

"I hope you have a good Night, Lucy Gray." 

"Your party’s gonna be steller." Lucy Gray gave her a quick wink as Tigris left the room.

Lucy Gray turned back towards her dress. A morbid scratching at a wound that never healed. How tacky, how tasteless. Cruel mocking of a child who survived a nightmare. A child going home to no one and will be paraded around for the rest of his life.

She stepped up close to the dress, so she could count the individual beads of red. Three thin lines. She reached for them and tugged lightly. Thread. Strong thread, but just thread nonetheless. She ran her tongue over her teeth as she parted the red from silver.

The need she had, the urge to rip and tear with her teeth, It was so primal she could barely contain it. So she didn't.

The thread sat nicely in the grooves that came from years of neglect and chewing on bones just to fool her stomach into thinking she had something to eat. Lucy Gray filed the string bare until it snapped. The red crystal sat in her mouth for a moment. It rolled nicely against her pallet, in the crux of her gums. It tempted her to swallow. Tiny and cold. They reminded her of pomegranate seeds. Bitter and hard. She already damned herself to a life in hell. What was a few more months?

Lucy Gray spit the crystal across the room, listening to it bounce against the hard floor, buzzing like an insect against a window. After the first, the others came off easy. Each one popping and buzzing. Popping and buzzing.

The final one she spit at the dress itself as an act of defiance. It looked better like that. without the throbbing red. No matter how much she'd miss the color that came from her former life.

Lucy Gray cleaned herself before donning the gown. She sat in the scalding water until her skin turned the same red as the discarded crystals. The dress was heavier than it looked. She would be fighting with it to stand tall all night.

She sat at her gilded vanity as she did her makeup with a light hand. A silver Shimmer on her lids, khol to line her eyes, the faintest pinkest rouge on her cheeks. She painted her lips with an equally pink shade. Natural. Innocent. Young. As fragile as the day she won her own Games.

No jewelry. The dress was loud enough to be left alone. The only thing she slipped on was the wedding ring. A hideous square thing with twisting facets. They reminded her of little Snakes ensnaring her finger.

He didn't propose with it. Lucy Gray laughed to herself at the thought. Maybe if he had she would have had the good sense to say no. Instead he caught her when she was cold, wet, and starving.

The thunder was rolling overhead. Her clothes were soaked through and his thumbs were pressing bruises into her arms. His blue eyes were piercing through the sheets of rain. She could barely hear him over the noise.

"Marry me," He said. It was so fast, she was convinced even then that he didn't mean it. "If We get married, They'll have to let you come to Two with me. Then we might get back to the Capitol. Together."

Lucy Gray's chest lurched. Going back? Going to Two? With him? Forever? She was already leaving everything behind.

"W-why W-would-"

"Just think about it." His Voice was soft in the night. He often spoke to her like a wrong inflection would shatter her. "We'll be far from Twelve. Far from the lake. I can put food on the table. Whole turkeys with jelly glaze. Meatloaf with ketchup and mashed potatoes. That could be ours. We don't have to starve anymore."

Lucy Gray's stomach growled, begging her. No more starvation? No more fear of The Mayor on her tail? No more lonely cold?

"Come on, Lucy Gray, don't you want to live for once? Not Just survive?"

Her head was light, the world was spinning. Her bones were so cold they ached and her stomach was devouring itself like an ouroboros. 

"Yes," She said on the wind. It was whispered and small and she knew he heard her because his eyes brightened. And the Jabberjays started mocking her.

"Yes," they said back. "Yes. Yes. Yes." Her verbal vow swarmed all around her.

He pulled her in close, her ear pressed against his chest.

"We'll get the general to do it. I'll get you a ring as soon as we're in Two."

They never made it to Two of course. Comforted by comfort, He fell asleep on the hovercraft. And while it was the nicest thing Lucy Gray had ever seen, she didn't sleep a wink. All she did was bite her nails and stare at the window. Even when the attendants offered her bubbly drinks and sweet treats, all she could do was shake her head.

Lucy Gray still remembered the look Dr. Gaul gave them as they entered her lab. She was clutching his arm and Gaul looked at him like he had just brought home a stray dog. Mangey and rabid. As if she wasn’t the monster.

"Heinous woman," Lucy Gray muttered to herself. Her eyes drifted across her vanity softly, just looking at the things that had accumulated there. She never thought she would have so many things let alone consider any of it junk. Bits and bobs and makeup and tools. Trinket boxes, cigarette boxes, jewelry boxes, palettes of pressed pigment. All had become lost to her.

Her eyes fell on a tarnished pewter box. A relic she saved from the great purge of the Grandma'am's belongings. There were flowers etched into the surface, dark centers with fanned out petals. It wasn't the outside that drew her in. It was its contents that had her stashing the box away.

Six small glass ampules sat inside. The cloudy liquid it held tasted of poppies and numbness. The results of morphling terrified her. The world became dull and muddled. People and sounds bled into each other like over saturated water colors. Blown out and misshapen. She hated taking it, she reserved it for important moments, where she would be alone. When she skipped a month, and needed to get a head start before she could get her hands on the right teas and herbs.

Lucy Gray thumbed one long thin end. It'd just take a snap. She wouldn't be the only one. It might feather the edges. If She just pressed a little harder-

Ice cold metal pressed itself around her throat. A shock ran through her as it closed in, nearly cutting off her air. She shoved the poppy box away and reached up. The panic began to sink in.

"Lucy Gray."

She swallowed and the metal loosened, hanging close to her neck, not strangling her.

"Coriolanus Snow," She said,with a voice she hoped was calm and collected. She gasped and feigned adoration. "What in the World is this? I have too much already!"

Coriolanus' face was close to hers, easy to whisper in her ear. He was watching her through the vanity mirror. She was watching right back.

"Am I not allowed to spoil my wife?"

Lucy Gray wished she had taken the morphling.

"You're allowed to do whatever you want."

She felt his smile as she watched him turn to kiss her cheek. Then, the spot right behind her ear.

"Then I'll adorn her with many carat gold," The necklace was a chain like pattern in white gold. A ruby hung down from the center. "And sterling silver bracelets.”

He ran his hands down her arms before snapping the cuffs around one wrist, then the next wrist. Coriolanus held his hands over her shackles and kissed the back of her neck right above her new collar. He smiled at her in the mirror.

"I don't even need to fill your pockets full of gems. This dress is... Anchoring. It's stunning."

Coriolanus kissed her once more and pulled from her. They were a matching pair. He was a sheet of silver with a drop of a red tie. And a red rose of course.

"Finish quickly. We're due at the party soon," He had one foot out the door. "The Capitol is waiting to hear from their little songbird."

Lucy Gray spat out the breath she had been holding. The rancid air curdled with a sob chasing after it.

The Capitol makeup stayed crisp as tears poured from her eyes. Her body convulsed with each breath. All she could do was cry in a long, involuntarily sharp note.

How could she sing? When she is caged and bound and maddened by the sky? Could She sing to be sold? Selling a happy lie of marriage and Victor? Of a fairy tale ending? Was it safer to sing when told? Or like a lark would she refuse to sing without her freedom?

Was she ever better off like this? Really? Her belly might be full but her heart was empty. Her voice not hers. The same walls keeping her all day and all night.

Lucy Gray passed her face with a handkerchief, one now embroidered with her own three letter monogram. She wished any of her emotions had shown up in the mirror.

He can't take my voice from me. She thought. That's what he wants. To control you. He wants your soul.

"I won't let him have it. "She said to herself and whoever else might be listening.

Coriolanus won't take everything from her, he won't win her. There are things he could never take from her. Her charm, her humor. Her personality and her persuasion. Her past and history. And she'd best remember them. She was going to need them if she was going to ruin him .

Chapter Text

The winter might be the most similar thing between twelve and the capitol. Brutal and raging. Unforgiving. Lucy Gray bundled her babies up in the thickest coats she could find. Something she can’t get mad about having money. She never had to worry about holes in shoes or wool getting too worn. They wouldn’t be freezing to death on her watch. They wouldn’t be starving to death neither. 

If she could find anything that might have been worth all this, it’d be the fact that her son won’t be plagued with hunger pains and would grow to his full height. Her daughter wouldn’t have to worry about not getting her monthly. Their bodies will grow strong and regular. Maybe that might have made it all worth it. 

Then she remembered all the children who were not her own. All them riddled with fear. That fear bringing out the worst in them. No amount of safety, no glitter and jewels were worth watching kids never grow up. Or worth watching the ones who survived ruin their lives.

“Mother!” Lucy Gray snapped out of her spiral and looked down at her daughter. Wide, brown doe eyes amongst a sea of golden curls. “Do you think Ligeia will be there?”

Lucy Gray tried to remember which of her friends that was. The one with the lime green hair and butterflies under her eyes? Or was she the one who had every strand of hair individually dyed a different color? Was she the one with a red mane and whiskers to match?

Lucy Gray took her a bright red scarf from the pegs near the door and wrapped it around her neck snuggly.

“You know, Calliope, I don’t rightly know,” She made the scarf into a pretty bow, patting it up right and crisp. Lucy Gray dressed them a bit old fashioned. Still bright, still colorful. Just a little more classic, more practical . He preferred it too. Calliope had a thick rose coat covering her blush dress. It was trimmed with iridescent gold lace to be a little festive. She probably wouldn’t take off the jacket, but her shoes matched the trim nonetheless.  “I think most everybody would want to be there opening night. But who knows what others got going on?”

Calliope nodded. “I hope she’s there. I like when her butterflies land in my hair.”

Ah . Her first thought was right. 

“ Well if she’s not, we’ll just have to get you some clips for your hair.”

Calliope’s eyes sparkled. Lucy Gray never offered to buy her things on a whim. Most mothers in the Capitol who grew up with nothing gave their children everything now that they could. But that’s not how Lucy Gray wanted to raise her children. Another thing they begrudgingly had in common. She didn’t judge those mothers. They just wanted the best for their babies. And that came in the form of gifts and goodies. Lucy Gray wasn’t sure what the best was in this world. Maybe she already had, by having them at the top of all creation.

“Just cause? Or are they my New Year’s present?” Calliope had a hint of suspicion in her voice. She was very concerned about the logistics of her presents. 

“No, no,” She assured her. “This is just something special cause I was feeling like it.” 

Calliope’s smile grew as she gasped and threw her arms around her mother’s neck. “Thank you, mama! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She squeezed her mama close and buried her face in her neck.

Lucy Gray held her head there and squeezed her right back. She turned into her hair and smelled the buttermilk and rose petals that kept her little girl so soft and clean. It was a thing she didn’t even notice she was doing till he pointed it out. She told him all those years ago thats what her mother bathed her in. And now it was a bit impractical. But Lucy Gray remembered her mama’s hair smelling of petals and milk. So she assumed she still bathed like that when she could, or at least her hair. When she too was feeling special. Lucy Gray thought it’d be nice for the two of them to share in that.

“Let’s go! Before everyone else takes the really pretty ones!” Calliope pulled away and grasped Lucy Gray’s hand, pulling as hard as she possibly could. 

“Hold it! We’ve got to wait for your brother!” Calliope pouted and Lucy Gray shouted down the hall towards his room.  “Hyperion Prussia! Get your butt in gear or we’re leaving you behind!”

“I'm coming!” It's what he must have looked like when he was a boy. Curls and rosey cheeks and deep blue eyes and all. Hyperion was short for his age. Not for either of their lack of trying. He dressed himself. The tiniest little president. Black leather shoes with lifts, his father insisted he had. A suit embroidered like new years' multicolored fireworks. A gray overcoat that his aunt Tigris fixed to match. Festive but understated. 

He stopped in front of the mirror by the door, straightening his lapel and pushing down his curls. 

“You look adorable, Peri, now come on, we got lots of hot chocolate to try." Lucy Gray said, holding out her other hand to her son. 

Hyperion turned red and pouted. He had a look on his face like he was going to say something. But at the mention of hot chocolate, his frustration melted and he reached for his mother's hand happily. She squeezed his hand and pulled both of them out the door. "Lets fly this coop, Mockingjays.”

The streets of the Capitol were bustling. It was the second busiest time of the year. Just after the Games. The streets were alight with bright, searing bulbs. It was beautiful in the eyeball melting sort of way. Something so crisp and clear it always looked new. Green and red and gold and silver and blue burned into her eyes. New years reflected in the shop windows and the white snow.  On the ground and coloring the flakes as they fell. 

The city center had a winter festival. It was filled with handcrafted goods and delicious food. Games for the children. All the trappings of a joyous society marking an occasion worth celebrating. They stopped at Decadence first, a booth dedicated to thick, bubbling hot chocolate. Square marshmallows sat on top as an insulator, keeping it from cooling too quickly. Calliope sipped too early and burned her tongue. Hyperion urged the worker to give them something to soothe the burn. Some cool milk in a second cup.

The children saw their friends in the distance and took off running towards them. Hyperion found his little group of followers and Calliope surprised her girlfriends by yelling boo! Behind them. 

Lucy Gray found herself smiling, her own hot chocolate warming her hands. For years she faked her happiness for cameras and crowds. For years her spirits never rose high enough to count as happy. Her children helped with that. She caught herself smiling at her babies in her arms. She noticed her small embers of joy in her heart's hearth. Her children's smiles warmed her in ways she never thought she'd feel again. Watching them play with the kids around them, watching them grow into little people. It was the miracle of life, children. All the world is contained in a child. Potential and the future. Past brought present. Things almost lost, now immortalized. 

She missed her own mother at that moment. She wondered what it would be like to have her standing there, if they all could celebrate New Years together. There were so many parts of her life she wished she had her. All of her childhood, of course, but going back to 12 with blood soaked hands and paranoia under her skin. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into her mother’s lap and fall asleep to her voice. That deep, primal urge to feel your heartbeat against your mother’s consumed her. It never went away. Lucy Gray wasn’t sure if that was just because she didn’t have it, or if people would always crave it no matter how old they got.

“A perfect day for a festival. Don't you agree?” Hilarius Heavensbee’s voice was reedy, like the instrument her pa would play. It resonated in his nose like those emphatic midrange notes that added a nice warm counter melody. 

She had seen him during her games. Hauty nose and brushed out curls. He was Wovey’s mentor. That sweet skeletal little girl from 8. Lucy Gray always had to swallow down her guilt when she saw him now. She didn't kill many people in the arena. But Wovey’s blood was on her hands. 

“Perfectly perfect," She said, raising a hand out and up to the sky to catch the flakes. They melted into her skin on contact. “It's even snowing ." 

Hilarius chuckled. “It's been snowing for ten years now,” Another thing that made her sick to her stomach. “And the clouds don't show any sign of parting." 

Lucy Gray scowled at him. What did he want her to do? Smother him in his sleep? What good would that do? She'd be dead and they'd be back at square one. 

"Maggy is working on getting Harbor to calm down. The poor girl got stabbed by her district partner. She's having a hard time.” She said in a hush. 

Hilarius didn't stop looking around. He scanned the crowds, he watched her children, counted the leaves on the trees. “Do you think a girl who couldn't trust her own from back home would be able to trust her mentor? A Capitol game maker?” He threw a glance her way. “The President’s wife?" 

Lucy Gray clenched her jaw. “If anyone can get her to trust again it'll be Mags,” She knew that for sure. Mags always had a softness to her. In her interview her curls haloed her. The lights shining through and around her head. The word angel came to mind. A sacred thing from a time long passed. A messenger, a portent. Her stylist even had the good sense to put her in white. She told the Capitol that family meant more to her than anything, that all of District 4 was her family. 

Her partner in the games was a fourteen year old boy who she had been teaching how to make and fix nets back home. His tears dissolved the salt caked on his face. She hugged him as he got up on stage.

It was the first arena not in that old sports stadium. They found a patch of land up north and westward. Had both mountains and the ocean. Mags tucked away her halo, weaving her hair into a tight braid that resembled rope more than hair. She fought for a trident at first go. They guarded the beach, the easiest source of food and water. Anyone who even tried to cross onto the sand got the same treatment as the fish in the sea. It was also the first game that drones came in to take the bodies away. Mags shielded his eyes and held onto him so he wouldn’t have to see it. Just like how he fell asleep with his head in her lap and her fingers in his hair. They were going through a nightmare but she made sure to chase his away.  

Mags had lost count of other tributes. Never the ones she killed herself, but the total as a whole. She didn’t know when she had taken out all the others. She didn’t know when she fell asleep, trident tucked close under her,  that it was only her and her partner left. 

No one tells the kids in these games how well designed a person’s body is made. Thick plates of bone shielding the vitals. There is a sweet spot, a thin center that would easily give way to a knife right into the back of the heart. But they didn’t teach them anatomy. 

So when Mags felt a knife pressed against her shoulder,  she reacted as any one would. She blindly swung the trident. It was only when she pulled it out, when she rolled away did she realize who her attacker was. She had missed a lot of his vitals, but the holes in him, the shredding the trident did on its way out was his death sentence. 

Even after being stabbed in the back, Mags tossed her weapon aside and pulled his head onto her lap to coax him to sleep one more time. “I-I’m sorry,” He whispered to her, coughing up blood as he did so. “I’m sorry.” He begged. 

“I know… I know…” She whispered to him. “It’s not your fault…” The knife had snagged on her hair tie, tearing it in two and releasing her hair all around her. As the sun set on both the beach and the boy, catching in Mag’s curls, another word, old and ancient came to Lucy Gray’s mind. Sainted . 

“She's been through it before." 

“So she has," Hilarius said. He searched the crowd for something. His cool Capitol deep blue eyes fell on the live music on the stage. Something uninspired and dead. There was no soul in the beat. She wasn’t allowed to perform publicly anymore. Not since she became a mother. No matter how bad she ached for the stage. Maybe if she found something to sing she’d do it anyways. “Maude Ivory has been seeing a Chance." 

Lucy Gray heard Arlo Chance’s last words low in her ears. Crying out for his lover Lil. Her scream ratted in her mind under his. A counter melody for the mockingjays. 

"Stupid of her,” Lucy Gray said. It came out involuntarily. It tasted rancid on her tongue. Felt awful to say about Maude Ivory, even if she'd say it to her face if she could. Messing with a Chance was sure to get her in trouble one way or another. 

A second thought it’d be nice for Hyperion and Calliope to have cousins. 

“She should be lying low. Specially since I all but disappeared.”

She wondered about those mandatory broadcasts. The ones where she stood next to him in feigned patriotism. Did the Covey see them? They were supposed to. Did they recognize her? She hardly recognized herself in the mirror. 

"Are you really one to judge someone else's choice in partner?" Hilarius asked. 

Lucy Gray clicked her teeth. “Who taught you how to talk to a lady? They did a piss poor job." 

He shrugged and smiled his fox-like grin. "Is it rude if it's true?”

Was it? She married a man knowing full well how acrid his heart was. She had children with him knowing that he sent children a year to their deaths. The rose he first handed to her had turned red in the blood on the innocent between them. Repentance he had called it at first. Then, as the sun made a full lap around the earth, entertainment. The father of her children told her people like that deserved to starve. They deserved to play death games.

“Yes. It's still rude." She decided. “Don’t society say you're supposed to talk all that shit behind my back then lie to my face?" Even in the Seam they had that one. Like when Sally Donner got caught dropping a shoe in the morning fog and Lawerence Parker had peppermints for weeks on end. You didn’t ask her how her feet were or if he had a sweet tooth.

Hilarius’s face hardened, growing more serious in an instant. “I do not lie to my victors, Ms. Baird.” He stood up a little straighter. The veneer, the one where he was insolent and amicable, where he was too stupid to be the knot bridging the gap between Capitol and District, fell away. He looked different this way. His lines were sharper. His colors not just cool but cold. He was getting lost in the lights surrounding him. "Even in jest. I am no good to you as a lier.”

Lucy Gray turned to fully look at him. An old classmate of her husband, one he professed was an idiot and undeserving of his wealth. But it was good to keep that kind of family close. He was rich. And he could certainly play the fool. It didn’t make sense to her. What was all of it for?

" Why ?” She asked him as if they were alone and not in a crowded place. 

Maybe the middle of a crowd was just as safe as a Heavensbee sanctuary. 

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness," Hilarius’s voice started to lilt. The words themselves had a sing-song quality to them. Lucy Gray could give it a melody and she could storm the stage.

He continued on, giving his words to the air, the crowd. For them to disappear or take root. 

"That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles.”

Hilarius chased his speech with a laugh. "Wouldn't that be a marvel?”

Lucy Gray sat with the words for a moment. She searched for a tune to pair with it, so she could remember the whole thing better. It reminded her of all her poems her mama taught her on the road, the ones she taught Maude Ivory. The structure of them, the thick language of it. The mention of a creator . This was something from long before this circus. 

"What is it?” She asked him. Maybe she'd sit down with a jabberjay then send it off to Maude Ivory, letting it play all the way there for the people of Panem. 

"A document. From a few very dead men. To another very dead man. Those words changed history. Those words are why we’re here today,” Lucy Gray didn't know much about history. She knew there was before 12 and after 12. She knew there was a war when she was 6. She knew that war came after years of mistreatment. She knew that mistreatment happened after another, bigger, scarier, more devastating war. Then, nothing. 

“Those words are both our condemnation and our salvation. If those words were never written, who knows where we’d be. Or the lives we’d lead. Or if we would even be here. At the time they were revolutionary, truly intended to set those writing them free. To resurrect them… to use them as our own… we might be able to set ourselves free.”

Lucy Gray picked apart each sentence. She liked to do that with her poems. She liked to find every meaning she could out of them. This creator bestows life and liberty and happiness. People are created with the right to be free, just like the Covey always said they weren’t made to stand still. If a government is not serving it's people, then it is unjust and must be destroyed. She rather liked this poem. 

"It's fitting, you know,” Hilarius loved to talk when no one wanted him to and never said enough when needed. "That document, the one that sent us barreling down this path, was signed on reaping day. It used to be celebrated.” He tilted his head upwards to screens of past fireworks. They'd probably put up the ceiling if the clouds kept up, just so they could have their show. “Fireworks and sparklers and hot dogs. It was a day of freedom. I wonder who made that choice. To shackle a nation on a day their ancestors used to covit.” 

“You think we could do better?" Lucy Gray asked. It seemed impossible to break the cage all around them. Birds remain trapped all their lives. It's only a kind hand that sets them free. Then again, they ain't birds. They're people with clever minds and nimble thumbs. 

“We can try." Hilarius said. There was a gleam in his eye. She wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't mischief. It wasn't even hope. It was something entirely different. 

She was going to ask when Calliope came running towards her. “Mama! Mama! Can I get these? They match Ligeia’s butterflies perfectly !” She had a small pile of butterfly clips in her hands. 

"Yeah, baby, just let me say goodbye-” When she looked back, Hilarius was gone. A ghost gone without even footprints left behind. “Well then." 

Calliope pulled her towards the booth she stole the clips from and she paid the man for his craftsmanship. Little gold things with green glass in the wings. Calliope was lucky she had enough hair for Lucy Gray to scatter them all about. The metal melted into her hair, just leaving the glass to spot her curls. She took a step back to admire her work. Calliope twirled around to give Lucy Gray a full look. She smiled so bright, her heart hurt. 

Her smile was Maude Ivory’s. It must've come from their Pa’s. So it must've been their Nana's. Their family line woven into the present, waiting to be taken to the future. 

"You look beautiful,” Lucy Gray said. “They sit real nice against your hair. 

Calliope stopped her twirling and pulled one out of her curls, holding it up to her. She pointed at the green glass. "They're my color! They're juniper!”

A deep green that leaned more towards blue than yellow. A green Mags told her reminded her of home, of the ocean. The berries made a great oil for keeping away pests. 

He had told her when she was pregnant the first time the kids weren't getting Covey names. They'd get proper Capitol names. Of course they'd have his last name. Luckily, he didn't seem to care about the second name as much as the first or last. Prussian was the color of an ancient army’s uniform coats. Prussia was the country that army belonged to. Or so her pa said when she asked about his color.  

She thought he might be indifferent to Calliope. What use would he have for a girl? It surprised her when Calliope was born he just held her, staring down at her for hours. She thought it might have been a turning point for them. Would having a little girl awaken something sweet inside him? The sweetness Lucy Gray once saw in him. The sweetness she watched die in his eyes.  When he wasn't looking at Calliope, he was looking at Lucy Gray. She tried to pick apart those looks, find what they mean. He never told her. So she didn't know. 

Lucy Gray felt the tears begin to well heavy in her eyes. She blinked them away and they started to freeze at the end of her eyelashes. She bent down quickly and ran her hands over her curls and her clips. “I always knew it'd suit you. Since the day you were born.”

Calliope Juniper’s smile took up her whole face, reaching every inch. It made Lucy Gray want to smile too. To join her in her joy. “It's my favorite! " 

Lucy Gray brought their foreheads together and she dropped her voice down low and hushed. "Can I show you a secret? But it has to be a secret just you and me, okay?”

"Okay!”

Lucy Gray stuck out her pinky. "You gotta promise me. Pinky swear.” She took Calliope Juniper’s hand and wrapped their fingers together. She squeezed her daughter's tight and kissed her thumb. Calliope Juniper mimicked her exactly. 

"I promise!”

"Alright,” Lucy Gray reached into her jacket, into her shirt. She pulled out a gold necklace. It was a long, thin, chain that hung low against her chest. At the very end were two gemstones. A deep blue with a green tenor that looked like midnight on a full moon. The second stone had the color of the lake in early spring time, when all the algae was in bloom, under that very same midnight sky. The colors themselves could have been siblings. Juniper being that whisper of green in the Prussian blue.

“This is my way of having the two of you close to my heart,” She said. Calliope Juniper gasped and pulled on them to get a good look. The links glinting under the lights. “I like to have you right here.” She placed her hand on her chest.

Calliope Juniper ran her fingers over the two stones, mesmerized by their sparkle. Lucy Gray watched her as she appreciated the finery in her hand. She watched as her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She should have known better. Her little girl never stopped asking questions. 

“Whys it a secret?” She asked her mother. 

Lucy Gray looked into her own eyes as they stared back at her. So lost and so innocent. Maybe this was a terrible idea instead of a moment to be shared. Maybe she got too excited about the scrap of tradition she was able to salvage.  Maybe she was just overwhelmed  by her daughter showing interest in this part of herself, a part her mother had been forced to hide.

When was the first time Lucy Gray’s mother told her that people hated them? When was it that she had to face the fact that they moved and traveled for more reasons besides they wanted to? If her mama was to be believed, the Covey got their wanderlust from not being welcome anywhere. So they never put down their roots, never stayed too long. They had no country before being rounded up in 12. And even then, were they really like them?

It was early. Lucy Gray’s mother had told her early. A couple years older than Calliope Juniper was. At that point it was too late.

Lucy Gray rallied a smile. “It’s something for just us girls. Me and my mama had a whole mess of secrets we kept from Pa and my brothers,” She coaxed her necklace free and tucked it away. “Maybe when we get home I’ll tell you all about them. Would you like that?”

Calliope Juniper nodded quickly. “I would.”

“Perfect,” She gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go watch some fireworks.”

The crowd parted for them. The people of the Capitol hovered about three feet from them at all times. Not far enough for the children to notice, but enough to show, what he called, respect . It always made Lucy Gray uneasy, just another reminder of the cavernous space between her and the people around her.

Though it did snag them a good spot for watching the fireworks. Hyperion saw just how good their spot was and left his friends to come join them. On his way, one of the boys shouted something at him. Lucy Gray was far too far to hear but it stopped him in his tracks. His fists curled and his eyes widened, the light was chased away from his gaze. The seconds between her heartbeat felt like years. The moment lasted forever. When he turned to them, Lucy Gray started to move.

She wasn’t sure if it was just the blood rushing in her ears or if he really made no sound. The boy’s faces twisted in horror. 

Lucy Gray put a hand on his shoulder to hold him back, to turn him around, to pull him away. But at first touch, Hyperion’s head whizzed around and he smiled up at her. She caught it though, the millisecond between what the boys saw and what he was showing her. He hadn’t perfected it yet. He was still just a boy.

Dread flooded her throat and made her nauseous. 

She smiled back at him. “What was that all about, darling?” 

“Nothing!” He said and she could almost believe him. The light hadn’t returned. “They just reminded me about some homework I completely forgot about!”

“Right,” She trailed her hand down his arm to take his hand. “Let's go watch the fireworks with your sister.” 

Lucy Gray squeezed his hand. He did not squeeze back. “Okay!”

Calliope Juniper was exactly where she left her, clinging to the fence and bouncing anxiously.

“Peri!” She said as her brother got close. “How do you like my clips?”

Lucy Gray held her breath. 

His face melted into something softer, more genuine. “They’re beautiful, Calliope.”

There was the little boy she raised. Her little Peri. Always a serious child, quiet, but sweet enough. He had a soft spot for Calliope. He was kinder and gentler with her. At least Lucy Gray didn’t have to worry about her. 

The fireworks erupted from behind the stage. Colors caught fire mid air and bloomed like wildflowers in the meadow. The sky filled completely with vibrant hues of every shade in the rainbow. Lucy Gray’s favorites were the ones that started as pin pricks then fell in multicolors, making willow trees out of powder and smoke. During the finale, a rapid succession of pigments and shapes shot up. Stars and hearts and snowflakes as comets and peonies filled every inch of the black night. Brightness and brilliance surrounded them. She should have felt right at home amongst the color.

Beauty like that wasn’t familiar to her, everything since the Seam was gray and covered in coal. The ash and smoke that rained down after was what she recognized. Her fingers were curled in between the links of the fence. Her knuckles were white as she fought to bend the thick metal. They wouldn’t be able to see her shaking if her muscles were strained.

“My favorites were all the green ones!” Calliope said. Lucy Gray was calming herself down quietly, counting to herself and listening to her daughter's voice.

“ My favorite was the finale.” He said, his voice was simple and cold. Lucy Gray slid her gaze to him but he did not look up at her. “I love the boom after boom after boom !” He jumped at Calliope who squealed in glee. 

Lucy Gray’s heart lurched. 

“Alrighty then, lets fly this coop, mockingjays!” Lucy Gray pushed herself. She barely heard the waiver in her voice. She took hold of her children’s hands and started to lead them away.

“Mother,” Hyperion said, that cold tone still lacing his voice. Lucy Gray looked down at him. “Why do you call us mockingjays?”

Her jaw clenched and ice shot through her veins. “Why, it’s cause you’re just like them. The Capitol mixing with nature made them, just like you.”

To anyone else, Hyperion’s face would have looked the same. To his mother, to Coriolanus Snow’s wife, she recognized the disgust deep in his eye. It came right before the head tilt, adjusting his chin up so he could look down upon whatever offended him. 

“I don’t want you to call me that anymore.” 

Lucy Gray felt something slipping. A rope rapidly falling off a ledge. She’d have to run after it if she wanted to catch it, risking falling off the cliff herself in the process. Or she could let it go.

“Whatever you say, baby.”

Chapter Text

“Hold fast to dreams,” Lucy Gray’s voice was clear as crystal, low and even as she rocked back and forth. She strummed a chord. “ For if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird.”

Calliope Juniper took the octave up, her range sitting comfortably high. She plucked an arpeggio as she harmonized with her mother. “That cannot fly.”

“Hold fast to dreams,” Calliope Juniper took the next verse herself. Picking up the tempo, she did her best to continue the melody over Lucy Gray’s foundation. “ For when dreams go, life is a barren field.”

“Frozen with snow.” Dissonance stripped through their shared name. It was Calliope’s idea, to sour the notes together. She thought it might be fitting.

Music rushed through Lucy Gray’s veins, feeling the soothing pulse of everything she thought she left behind in 12. Family and melody and lyrics tucked in a little corner of the mansion afforded to her. She closed her eyes and listened to the music and words coming from her daughter. It was almost like listening to Maude Ivory again. Though, that’ll never happen ever again, even if she made her way back. She'd be happy to sing her name sake one more time to her and the worms eating her skin. 

Each measure, each syllable, something she taught Calliope Juniper herself. It was the greatest gift she could have given her. And not a penny spent. 

Lucy Gray wished Hyperion would join them. She wanted to share it with both of them. She thought it might be nice for  the three of them to have something that was just for her and her babies. But he wanted nothing to do with music. He barely wanted anything to do with her, let alone something so undeniably covey as learning an instrument. 

She wasn’t even sure he liked music, which was odd to her in so many other ways. Lucy Gray watched her son when she would sing at parties, when she would sing to them. His face curled inwards, like he was disgusted by what her mouth was doing. When he got his growth and he shot up like a weed, she could feel him looking down his nose at her. 

Lucy Gray was about to start a different song when the door flew open. Beatrice, no longer timid or squeaky, a woman in her own right, came striding in. Gone was her mousy brown hair and dull hazel eyes. She changed her eye color long ago to a burnt orange color to commemorate her favorite Games that took place in a wide expanse of 5 where the dirt was red and the mountains sprouted up like weeds from the ground. Her hair was a forest green, something that Lucy Gray might’ve found deep in her own mountains. 

Calliope Juniper called her carrot cake. 

“Mrs. Snow," Loyalty in the mansion was scarce. At least for Lucy Gray. Beatrice might have been Lucy Gray’s assistant, but that didn't mean that's where her loyalty layed. "Your dress is ready for you.”

Lucy Gray didn't move from her seat. “My dress?" She echoed. “For what?" 

Beatrice tapped her screen and read over her glasses. “A dinner. With President Snow and a guest.”

The world started to spin. She could feel the ground shifting and moving. It would crack open. She would fall through it. A dinner? She knew what happened at his private dinners. She was never invited. Why is she invited?

Who was the guest?

“Alright. I'll get up soon-" 

“Dinner will be served in an hour and a half," Beatrice said. "So time is of the essence.”

Lucy Gray swallowed hard and placed her guitar on the chair. Calliope Juniper stood abruptly. 

"I can come help you, mama-”

"That's alright, baby” Lucy Gray said, throwing her a stern glance. She recoiled, panic obvious on her face. "I'll be fine.”

She wasn't entirely sure about that, it was just a hunch. If he was going to kill her he'd probably be sure to leave no witness. Beatrice pulling her from a lesson. Almost as if it were the point. How many examples will he be able to set with this one dinner?

Lucy Gray allowed herself to be led to her rooms like an escort bringing her back to the arena. She never really left. Her whole life had become the Games. A day to day gamble with her life. At this point she out ran her luck years ago. Now she was a player through and through. She made her moves, he made his. Though his were always bigger than hers, louder, deadlier.

“He made some make-up choices as well,” Beatrice said, looking straight ahead. “They’ll be on your vanity.”

She wondered what he offered her, to get her to become this. She knew her own weakness. She remembered the hunger that threatened her life. But what was temptation in a den of decadence? What could there possibly be that she didn’t have?

Or did Beatrice believe in her president and country?

A chill ran down Lucy Gray’s spine. 

She wished there was something that could be done about everyone having access to her room. She just took it as another reminder that she was never alone. Not even in her innermost sanctum. Nothing was sacred. Nothing was just hers. There were things that were his and things that he let her have.

The dress was waiting for her, looming in the center of her room like a specter. It hung on a mannequin, leaving no footsteps in the low light. When she flicked on the bright lights, it caught in iridescence. A white gown, pink and blue flashing as she circled it. The sequin meticulously placed and oblong. She couldn’t make out why until she noticed the shape of the bodice. Not a normal sweetheart neckline. No, the panels were fanned out, straight across her chest and tapered into her waist. A snake’s head. She was going to be dripping in scales. 

There was mesh to cover the rest of her chest and her shoulders. Still a very conservative man, her husband. The mesh was fainter than her scales, but it too caught the light in soft colors. On the shoulders, down the arms, there was a collection of gems, scattered around. It looked like she was dusted with diamonds and blue topaz. The illusion of snow fall.

Lucy Gray went to her vanity to find out exactly what makeup he had set out for her. She stumbled upon not just makeup, but accessories as well. A necklace and earrings and gloves . The necklace and its charm sat right at her throat, only slacking slightly so a crystalline snowflake could sit between her collar bone. The earrings matched in a way. Long and dangling series of snowflakes that looked as if they were falling on her shoulders when she moved. 

The gloves came to her elbow, that same pinky blue iridescence that slowly began to change color as it got closer to her hands. The pink turned to red and the blue became more vibrant and prominent. It dawned on her once she saw the fingers. The red got deep and swollen. The blue turned black and bitter. But just on her last two fingers on her right and the middle on the left.

The fingers the victor lost in the Games that year. During the victory parties, she wore finger covers in black metal. She thought those were in bad taste.

When she checked the make up, it was all frostbitten blue. As she applied it, It gave her lips the illusion of too cold to stay on. The eyeshadow gave her a sunken look. The blusher washed her out. She wasn’t nearly as pale as she could be. The makeup fixed that. 

Diabolically, the toes of her shoes, something so completely hidden by the length of the dress, were also the sickened black rot, matching her missing toes to her missing fingers.

Put together,  she looked like a beautiful corpse. A queen of snow and death. How fitting.

Beatrice didn’t take her to the dining room. No one did. She walked alone towards her unknown fate. Step by step on the marble floor, the only thing she could hear was her own footsteps and her own heart. There was no Avox or assistant. Just her and the halls and the open dining room door. 

He reconstructed the dining room they had in his apartment. Warm and soundproof. The sound of her heels didn't bounce off these walls. They swallowed it whole, devouring the evidence of her movement. She wondered what else they consumed, never to be heard. 

He was waiting for her. The shock ran through her nervous system quickly. But she didn't flinch. She was more practiced than that. Instead, she smiled. 

“Coriolanus," She said softly, lovingly. 

Coriolanus smiled back at her. He wasn't dressed in a particular way. Normally they were a matching set. His ensemble always mirrored her costume. Instead he was dressed in all black, a stark contrast to her and even what he normally wore. A white rose adorned his breast pocket. 

"Lucy Gray,” Coriolanus stepped towards her, even in heels, he towered over her. He leaned down for a kiss and she got on her toes to meet him. As they kissed, he slipped a second rose into her hair, behind her ear. 

She pulled back, that delicate smile never leaving her face. "What color do I have on?”

Coriolanus reached up to her face, thumbing lightly at her ice blue lips. “It matches perfectly. " 

"What's all this about, darling?” The pet name tasted sour on her tongue. "Who'd I get all dolled up for?”

Coriolanus studied her face, and she watched back. She could never decide if he was looking at her with fascination or hatred or  love  or disgust. It was all the same. Malace and desire came from the same pit in his chest. 

“An old friend of mine,” His voice was chased by a little bit of delight. His smile curled at the edges into a cold, malicious thing. “I'm not sure if you've ever met him." 

Lucy Gray balanced on her tightrope. She had to walk through the head of the needle he cast around her, carefully through his lie and his truth. 

“Then why in the world would he want little old me here?" She asked. 

Coriolanus did not break eye contact as he took her hands and kissed the back of it. “ I want you here. It's about time the two of you meet.”

"Right,” She said. "Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.”

They shared a beat of silence. Lucy Gray stayed perfectly still under his gaze. He would not get her to break. He left that in the hands of their guest. 

“President Snow,” It took all her years of pretending not to react to Hilarius Heavensbee’s voice coming from the door. She turned to him and she couldn't help the small gasp that caught in her throat. Framed in a haunting sunset was Hilarius Heavensbee, of course, but in front of him was what looked like a mini replica of him. Capitol blue eyes and white blonde hair. That round face and upturned nose. 

Plutarch Heavensbee looked just like his father. 

Coriolanus left her where she was in favor of their guest. Guests. She felt nothing but horror. His eyes were filled with glee. 

“Hilarius, please, we’re old school friends. Call me Coriolanus,” He approached with a hand extended and another ready to pat him on the back. 

Hilarius shook his hand and took the harsh hit to his shoulder. 

“Coriolanus," The name was clumsy in his mouth. He hasn't used it in well over 20 years. "This is my son, Plutarch.”

His smile widened and the grip on his hand got tighter. "I don't seem to remember inviting your son, Hilarius.”

Hilarius gripped Plutarch's shoulder. "I thought he might like to meet the president of our great nation.”

Plutarch couldn't be older than five, still in shorts, still with the air of curiosity and innocence around him. And Lucy Gray was going to watch it all melt away. 

“Did you stop to think if the president wanted to meet him?” Hilarius's face fell from its jovial mask. Plutarch mirrored his father's expression as Coriolanus stepped closer to him. “I am going to give you the choice, Hilarius, since you chose to bring him here. He can either sit across from you, taking in everything that is about to happen. Or you can tell him to stay outside.”

Coriolanus took his hands off of Hilarius but remained in his orbit. 

“Plutarch, wait by the door,” Hilarius said, cold and unsparing. 

“But I thought we were going to eat dinner-" 

“By the door. Now." 

Plutarch cowarded and turned away to the hall.  Hilarius's hand lingered on his son's shoulder for as long as possible. He couldn't watch his son go. He couldn't fall into the trap he laid for himself. 

The door shut behind him, nearly taking his finger with it. 

“Have a seat,” Coriolanus offered a chair next to the head of the table. He rounded it to pull out the opposite side for Lucy Gray. He was arranging his chess pieces. 

Sitting across from each other, Lucy Gray did her best to remain neutral. Hilarius took in her ensemble and breathed out slowly. 

“Introductions are in order, I believe," Coriolanus said, placing a hand on the back of Lucy Gray's neck. The feel of his touch burned her skin and lit her on fire. It was a good thing at first. “You two haven't met." 

“ Formally ," Hilarius said. He threw on his appeasing smile. “But we’ve run in similar circles for years. Gamemakers and victors and all that. And who doesn't know the marvelous Lucy Gray Snow?" 

The bile in Lucy Gray's throat threatened to corrode her vocal cords. She would throw up before the night was out, she was sure of it. 

“ Formally, " Coriolanus echoed. “Of course." 

Coriolanus took his hand off of her and took his seat. The moment he sat, Avoxes were out of the kitchen and pouring wine. The men had matching reds and her's was a placid white, so pale it bordered on clear. 

"She prefers white,” Coriolanus said. She didn't. She preferred whiskey. The last thing she would do in that moment would be to correct him. "And I prefer to keep her happy." 

He didn't. 

He took his glass and raised it. Lucy Gray and Hilarius mimicked in turn. 

"To your point Hilarius. To Victors and Gamemakers and Games themselves,” Coriolanus tipped his glass to each of them before taking a sip. 

They each tried their own. Lucy Gray's was far too sweet to be anything she'd pick for herself. Hilarius took a hard swallow. It looked like he was trying to choke down brambles. 

An appetizer manifested in front of them. A small pairing of cheese and crackers and grapes. They all seemed to have the same assortment. A sharp cheddar, a soft brie, and a dollop of herbed goat cheese. They didn't touch it until he did. 

"Running the Games is quite the feat, Hilarius,” Coriolanus placed a small square of cheddar on a cracker and on top of that he put a grape. "You've done some fine work.”

“Thank you, sir," Hilarius's voice was straining, like something was constricting his airways. Coriolanus ate meticulously. He always did. Grape on cheese on cracker. Over and over again. "I take great pride in my work. I hope they can be a legacy my son can be proud of.”

There was a perfect amount of grapes for cheese and a perfect amount of crackers for cheese. Lucy Gray added little bits of wine in between her bites. Maybe they cancelled each other out. Maybe they're all meant to be eaten together. When Hilarius finally took some of his own, he seemed to breathe easier. 

"It's a shame your final Games were such a failure, then.” Coriolanus had finished his bite and the plates were whisked away just as quickly as they came. Hilarius nearly choked on his cracker. 

Was Hilarius Heavensbee fired from his position? They could call it that. 

"I-I'm sorry, are you not renewing my contract?” Hilarius asked. Lucy Gray admired his dedication. He still thought he could talk his way out of this. "I was unaware you were so unhappy with last year's Games.”

The next course was steak and potatoes. At least, for the men. Lucy Gray was given a salad. A bountiful one, with greens and squash and apple, but something starkly different. The mashed potatoes fluffy clouds against the already white plate. Their steaks were seared to perfection, dripping in juice and marinade. When he cut into it, it was rare and bloody, staining the potatoes red. 

Hilarius took in all of the food. 

"She's a vegetarian,” Coriolanus said. She wasn't. While people starved, how could she restrict her own eating? How could she be picky ? It was insulting . "Always had a bleeding heart.” 

He punctuated it with a bite of steak. She could hear the silver scraping against his teeth. 

“Sir-" 

"Would you like to know what the people thought of your Games, Hilarius?” Coriolanus swirled his potatoes in his drippings. He gestured to the food in front of Hilarius. Go on. Eat. 

Hilarius started into his meal. 

“Of course. I'm always open to feedback from-" 

“ Boring ," Coriolanus cut him off as he stabbed his fork into the steak. His voice was pitched high but with a hushed intensity. “The landscape was boring ." 

The knife dragged against the plate, metal screaming against porcelain. Sharpness scarring the delicate. 

"I thought the survival element was compelling-”

"There was no action, ” Coriolanus continued in his mocking voice. "Everyone just froze to death .”

Hilarius was taken aback. "The blood bath was striking with all that blood on the-”

Quiet sunk like a stone in a lake. Soon they'd all be gasping for air. 

"Ah, yes. The snow, ” Coriolanus said. His voice was laced with the cold anger that so often boiled in his throat. “How could I forget the snow?" 

Lucy Gray told him it was too much. She told him that he'd catch on. But Beetee was relentless and sure of himself. The creator of the trackers used in every Games to monitor the tributes? Untouchable. The richest man in Panem save the President himself? Too high to fall. 

He should have been, at least. 

Panic flickered across Hilarius's face. She watched it harden into cold indifference. He took a bite of steak without looking away from Coriolanus. He was finally starting to understand. 

"There's too much snow. There's nothing to look at besides snow. Every time a mutt attacked the snow picked up and I couldn't see a thing!" 

There was a wave of confusion that passed over Hilarius. Lucy Gray never watched the Games, but she knew about the awful weather of these Games. A mutt attacked and the whole screen was obscured by heavy snow . 

Coriolanus rolled his eyes at him. “Did you honestly think you reined unchecked, Heavensbee?”

"I don't-”

"I will say the likeness was uncanny ,” Coriolanus’s plate was nearly cleared. Lucy Gray could barely swallow her small mouthfuls. Hilarius was just under half. "The designer, what was her name? Iris! Yes Iris did a remarkable job at capturing my jaw. The thing's nose was hideous. But the eyes . Oh she had a wonderful way of capturing not just the color but the look in my eye as I go in for the kill." 

A distant twinkle as he looked down upon his victim. She knew it well. 

Hilarius had stopped talking. His face was turning red and his breathing was getting harder. She couldn't tell if it was because he was caught or because his throat was closing in. 

“It was fascinating how the teeth were so blunt but still able to shred through skin like a razor," Coriolanus continued. “I had her research sent to next year's head designer. I hate for such talent to go to waste. But alas.”

His plate was clear and theirs were taken. Coriolanus sat back with his glass of wine and smiled. Hilarius’s lips were pressed tight. He started to cough. 

Dessert was a butter cake, something Lucy Gray brought to the Capitol that he actually enjoyed. It was thick and warm and heavy, drenched in strawberry sauce. There was a pile of whipped cream on top. Nestled in the pillowy cream was a single almond. 

Something must have caught, something must have trickled too far in the back of his throat. As soon as he laid eyes on dessert, he let it go. A wretched, awful croak. He spit up all over the cake. Blood mixed with strawberry. Blood overpowered strawberry. His body convulsed as it tried to expel anything and everything in his stomach. 

Coriolanus cut his cake with his fork. “Pity.” He said. “I think the dessert is the best part of the meal.”

Hilarius coughed and the blood made it halfway across the table at Lucy Gray. She watched in horror as her friend of so many years worthe in agony that she could not stop. If she stepped a toe out of line, if she begged him to bring an antidote, it would be an admission of guilt. And where would they be without the two of them? Where would the revolution be? Where would the people of Panem be?

So she watched the blood blemish his marble skin. It dribbled down his chin and down his neck, pooling in his collar. The cotton sullied, turning red. His purple tie now polkadotted. 

He hunched over, the blood pouring out of his mouth directly into his lap. The coughing started to quiet, more labored, searching for any air at all. 

That's when muffled knocks started from the door. 

“Father?" Lucy Gray almost forgot about him. Hilarius's son right outside the door. “Father?!" 

Hilarius turned as best he could. He wheezed, trying to get words out. Even if he could scream back, there wasn't a chance he would hear. He rested his head on the table to look at the door, to find his son. She could hear his creeking voice try. 

“Father!" Plutarch cried. Lucy Gray couldn't touch her cake. The smell, the look, it all made her nauseous. 

"Father!” Coriolanus’s face twisted. "Father!" He made a show of chewing his cake slowly, laboriously. 

“Father!" Silver cracked porcelain. The wood of the chair scratched the marble of the floor. Coriolanus made towards the door. 

Lucy Gray had only a second. She lunged out of her seat and rounded the corner. She couldn't let him see. She couldn't watch a child watch his father die. Not again. There was nothing she could do about the blood. All she had was her body. All she could do was wrap herself around him. She made sure to block Plutarch's line of sight. 

“Hilarius?" She whispered. “Hilarius, please, you can't-" 

Coriolanus threw open the door. Plutarch took in another breath, raw and shaking, priming for a scream. Hilarius let out a breath, weak and final. Lucy Gray allowed herself a sob as the light faded from Hilarius's eyes. 

Plutarch swallowed his scream quickly. She turned her head carefully so she’d know if she had to intervene further. The doors opened outward, he tumbled backwards. Coriolanus crouched in front of Plutarch, looking down at him. 

“Tell me, Plutarch," He said. Even his voice tasted like cyanide. "Are you as allergic to almonds as your father?”

Tears began to fall freely down Plutarch's face. Big blue eyes drowned in salty tears. They didn't blink not once. Plutarch nodded carefully. 

And then, Coriolanus smiled. Lucy Gray could only see the side of his face as he loomed over the boy, but she could see his teeth. Otherwise pearly, perfectly white, they were saturated in blood and the wider his smile got, the more dribbled out of his mouth. 

“Excellent," Coriolanus stood, leaving behind the carnage in his wake. 

Lucy Gray righted Hilarius, sitting him up in his chair, closing his eyes. Her panic was heaving in her chest, skipping her breaths. So much was crashing down on her. 

All that mattered was Plutarch. She found him curled in on himself right where he had left him. Lucy Gray’s knees hit hard against the marble floor as she opened her arms to him. He flinched away at first, she hadn't realized she was covered in blood. Another white surface defaced with crimson. His father's blood soaked her scales and she expected him to jump into her arms?

It didn't matter how unsavory or repulsive the idea was. Plutarch did it anyway. He latched onto her, burying his face in her chest and letting out a tragic, mournful wail. His tears mingled with his father's blood on her dress. He gripped onto her like she was his mother. 

And Lucy Gray swaddled him, squeezing him as close as possible. She held him and pressed her face into his hair. Soft and blonde and for this moment he was hers. A newly minted orphan. All he really needed was a mama and a place to cry. 

Plutarch hollered all his agony into her. She took it in as best she could. It was a heartache she knew all too well. She thought the time for orphans had passed. Obviously, she was wrong. 

An age went by and the yowling turned to whimpering and then to soft, rhythmic breathing. Lucy Gray stood herself up, still clutching Plutarch. She didn't trust anyone at that moment. She didn't think anyone would do right by him. She didn't think he was safe anywhere. So she took him to her room. It might not have been out of sight, but it only had one way in and one way out. She could get between anyone and him. 

Lucy Gray kicked off her shoes. It would be easier to run barefoot. 

Her room was empty and cold now that the unknown had been let out. It was just a room. Quiet and dark. She pulled back the comforter and laid him down gently. He stirred ever so slightly leaving her arms. She tucked him in and watched. 

Lucy Gray couldn't take her eyes off of him. She used to do this with her own children. Though, they were much younger. She couldn't believe they were real. She couldn't believe he was still there. 

The gloves suddenly felt rancid against her skin. Her skin felt like it was soiled. She threw the gloves off and her hands found her jewelry. The silver fell to the floor, hitting and bouncing like heavy metallic rain drops. She took a wipe and began scrubbing her face of any make up. 

Oh she wanted to get clean.  But she couldn't leave Plutarch alone. If she could lock her door. If she could be sure he'd be fine, she might have. Instead, she pulled the chair from her vanity and sat in front of him like a sentinel and their charge. 

There was blood on his chin from where he rested his head on her. She took a tissue from the bedside table and gave it a lick so at the very least he wouldn't wake up caked in it. The repetitive circular motion stirred him awake. 

“Mrs. Snow?" Plutarch's voice was raspy and weak. It almost sounded like his father's. 

Lucy Gray swallowed the thought. “Call me Lucy Gray, darling." 

Plutarch blinked sleepy at her. “Lucy Gray?" 

“Yes, baby?" 

“Is father going to be okay?" 

His voice was so small as he asked. Echos of Maude Ivory asking the same question rattled low in her ears. She wondered if Lenore Dove noticed that other people had a Ma or a Pa or sometimes both. She wondered how Clerk Carmine and Tam Amber will answer when she asks. 

Her heart was going to fall out of her chest. Whatever shards she was able to put back together over the years never really healed. Fragile and prone to breakage. She was sick of telling children their pa’s were never waking up. She was sick of kids not having their parents to hold their hands into adulthood. 

Lucy Gray ran her fingers through his fine hair, brushing it out of his eyes. She tried to be gentle, she tried to be kind. 

"He's gone off to a better place, darling,” She said, leaning in close to him. "He's made it to the sweet old hereafter.”

Plutarch’s brow furrowed. “Am I going too?" 

“No," She was quick with that. Maybe too quick for explaining this all to him. “Not for a long while. You got a lot of years left.”

His face twisted further. “Did he leave like mother did?" 

Lucy Gray remembered when Eudora Heavensbee passed. Hilarius was beside himself. There were complications with the birth. She was older, at higher risk. All the money in the world couldn't do a thing. Her, Maude Ivory, his mother. With everything they can accomplish, they can't stop one of the oldest stories retelling itself. 

"Yeah, he went to go meet her. He missed her too much.”

Plutarch sat with that for a moment. Little boys, trying to copy their fathers in the ways they could. Clumsy and out of practice. He was deciding whether or not to ask another question. Deciding whether he accepted that answer. 

"What about if I miss him too much?”

Lucy Gray continued to lull him with her fingers through his hair and taking his little hand. 

“Then you remember why he went to go meet your mama,” She was careful. Oh so careful. "You remember that he was sent to the hereafter because he was a hero.”

Plutarch shifted to see her fully. "A hero?" 

She ducked in closer, close enough for only him to hear. “A hero. He was working to make sure no one is sent away too early. He treated everyone the same. There's no difference in people. Capitol or district or neither. We were born with the right to be free. And he was making sure everyones treated with respect and dignity." 

“Is that why Mr. President Snow doesn't like him?”

Lucy Gray breathed carefully. “Yes," She said. “He doesn't want people treated fair." 

“Why?" 

Why didn't he? They talked about it once, in the sticky heat of 12’s mountains. He said people were animals in the end. He didn't believe in the goodness of people. He only saw the worst of them. People who didn't help their starving neighbor. People who shunned the different or who they deemed lesser. 

Coriolanus never felt the care of someone who didn't want to but they knew it was right . He never sang souls off, even though he didn't know them at all. He never saw a village come together to give what they had, or what they didn't, to a newly wed couple just starting their lives. He never tasted someone else's tradition and made it his own. 

He never wept at the simple loss of life. He didn't believe anyone would cry for him. 

Now they probably wouldn't. But they might have, at the start of all this. 

“He never had it, so he thinks no one else should neither," She said. "He don't believe in leaving the world fairer.”

"That's not very nice,” Plutarch whispered back. 

Lucy Gray squeezed his hand. "No it's not,” She took a beat. Was it alright? Would Hilarius hate her for it? Does he hope his son is just a beautiful little fool? Or would he thank her? Was he raising him the same way she was raising Calliope Juniper? Was he always going to follow in footsteps and live in his shadow?

“Would you like to help me make this a nice place to live?" Lucy Gray asked Plutarch Heavensbee. 

Wide, Capitol blue eyes stared at her. She could never read Hilarius. Maybe Plutarch would remain transparent, or she’ll learn his tricks. Maybe he just felt safe to take his time and think around her. 

“How?”

"Right now, the best thing you can do for me is get some sleep,” She said to him. She gave him a kiss on the forehead and pulled the blanket up to his chin. "You think you can do that for me?”

As much panic as his tired body could muster seized his muscles. "You're not leaving, are you?” He asked her. 

"No, baby, I'm staying right here.”