Chapter Text
When Coriolanus is five years old, he has a rather odd dream.
He stands at a horizon, lines of pink and orange blending together until that is all he can see, all he can feel. He is nowhere he has been before, and there is a strange taste on his tongue, something wispy and tart but oh so interesting at the same time. He licks his lips, searching for the taste again.
“Pretty.” A voice that is not his own, slurred and drawled and accented, district. Coriolanus spins towards the sound, only to come across a little girl. She's young, younger than even he, yet she holds herself with a surety that even Coriolanus doesn't have yet. Like no matter where she steps, she knows her legs won't fail her, knows her body can hold her still. Her hand comes up, trying to grab at the orange-pink air.
“Strange.” Comes another voice, and the colors seem to shift, collide. A boy his age, this time, appears from the nothing and everything around them. He's also district, though his accent is less noticeable, does not permeate his being like the girl’s does. Coriolanus blinks, unsure what to do next. “Are you my dream friends?”
The girl cocks her head to the side as Coriolanus muffles a snort. If anything, these district children are figments of his own imagination, stories and rumors of the war finally getting to him. His mother has tried her best to keep them from him, but he is a curious boy, and his father, when around, does not coddle him.
As if I'd ever be friends with savages like you, is what he thinks of saying, the words forming on his tongue like they've always been there. Savages, it's what his father called them. He's not fully aware of what it means, but his father is not one to lie, nor one to bathe his words in sugar. They are the cause of war, anyhow. The reason why he rarely sees his father anymore.
But then he looks at the little girl, again. His mother is having another child. She is sure it's going to be a girl, has been preparing him for a sister for months now. Mother would be rather upset with him for being rude - she would ask if that would be how he treated his sister, even though it is different. She would not care for the difference, she would only care that he kept his manners.
The boy turns to him, wide eyes dark and innocent. Still, there's a somber look in them, one that makes Coriolanus frown. “You're from the Capitol, right?” He asks, glancing at his clothes. Coriolanus tenses. “You look like someone from the Capitol.”
He expects them to hate him, once they've figured that out. Maybe even attack him, because father told him that districts aren't much better than animals, and mother always told him to keep his manners lest he act like an animal. Even besides that, they're currently in war, and they're on opposite sides. They should react badly to him, should they not?
The other boy does not. Neither does the little girl. In fact, neither of them seem bothered in the slightest. Coriolanus wonders if they do not know, if they were not taught of the war. The little girl was probably much too young to understand it, but the boy? Maybe his mother does a better job of hiding it from him.
The boy blinks, gaze fluttering to each of them. His hair is dark, a tangle of loose curls only slightly tighter than Coriolanus’ own. Whenever Tigris sees his curls, she tries to grab them, tug on them or wrap them around a finger. Coriolanus never understood why she felt the urge. Looking at the boy, he felt his own fingers twitch. “You both are real, aren't you? Like, not in my mind?”
The girl giggles and snorts, laughing at him. It feels almost mean spirited, but the girl seems too young to recognize that. “Of course I'm real!”
Coriolanus thinks that, in this dream scenario, that's exactly what figments of his imagination would say to trick him. He's so sure of it that he goes to speak, to out them as mind tricks, when he opens his eyes and wakes up.
He finds his mother in their garden, which is where she can almost always be found nowadays. Father always said that it was unbecoming of her, to personally tend to their roses, but mother loved it dearly, and father loved her too much to stop her.
Coriolanus thought it was silly. Still, when his mother requested his help, his knees would end up with grass stains and dirt would collect under his fingernails. He never denied his mother, because something about the garden soothed him too.
So, like many times before, he digs his knees into the dirt and helps his mother pull weeds as he tells her about his odd dream. It has stuck with him, even several hours later, still bright and vivid in his mind. He's never been one to remember his dreams. It left him on edge.
“Maybe,” Mother hummed as she worked, eyes twinkling as she looked at him. She was breathtakingly beautiful, the prettiest person Coriolanus has even seen. And while she was normally cold, a powerful matron to the Snow name, she was different in the gardens. Carefree, warm, bright. Almost an entirely different person. “It's just your mind trying to tell you something.”
Coriolanus wrinkles his nose, starting to believe his mother doesn't know either. “Tell me what?”
“Maybe it wants you to make more friends.” She raises a dirty hand, smudges soil over his nose with a warm chuckle. Anywhere else in the house and she would reprimand him, tell him that he must remain clean and proper and presentable. In the gardens, however, they can both be messy, untamed. Coriolanus wonders which side of his mother is the true one, more often than not. It confuses him regularly.
“I have friends.” He scoffs, does not bother removing the dirt from his nose. Mother has a smudge of soil on her cheek, pulled up whenever she smiles. “And why would I want to be friends with district kids? We're at war with them!”
His mother frowns, looks away from him to pull out a stubborn weed. After a moment she snips a rose, rolling it between her fingers. It's thorns brush her skin, not daring to cut through.
She leans forward, careful with her round belly (father doesn't want her working the garden when so heavily pregnant. She does not listen-), before tucking the rose into his shirt pocket. “A Snow must look past outwardly appearances to be successful.” She says, voice firm and rehearsed, even though Coriolanus has never heard her say this before. “Do not let a stereotype stop you from using something to its fullest, Coriolanus. It would be silly to miss something or someone's potential just because you don't like where it came from.”
Coriolanus doesn't have a response to that, because she is right. His father made it quite clear that they are better than district scum, but district people must have potential to be great. They would not have survived as long as they have otherwise. To be a good head of the family, Coriolanus must understand that. He must be able to use that to his advantage.
Still, he is not fully certain, he does not understand. “It was so real, mama.” He doesn't dare call her that outside of the garden, even if they are alone. She was mother, she was cold and stern and would prepare him for life better than anyone else could. The woman who he spoke to, who he confided in, in the garden, was someone entirely different. “What was it? What was my dream?”
She sits up, leans forward until her lips brush against his forehead. “That's up for you to figure out.” Her voice is amused, her eyes are mirthful. There are dark spots under them, ones Coriolanus pretends not to see. She tells him that she was the same when she was pregnant with Coriolanus. He hopes it's the truth. “If you're so curious.”
Coriolanus pouts, which is unbecoming of him. She laughs at his expressions, the sound light, full. “Mama.”
(He says it again, just because he can.)
His mother calms, smiles at him. She only ever smiles out in this garden. Coriolanus thinks this is her favorite place. It might be his as well. “Look for something you love.” She suggests, and something flashes across her face, too fast for him to see. Something about it, though, even as young as he is, sticks with him. “Maybe then you'll find your answer.”
He stares at her, for a long moment. She turns back to her work and continues on, like he isn't even there. She's humming a song, one dirty hand occasionally coming up to rub at her pregnant belly. It's peaceful, calm.
Coriolanus gets up and leaves, his mind swirling with questions and theories.
It's then that he sees the mark on his inner wrist. It starts right before his palm, about as thick as his thumb is long. Like someone had taken a single brush stroke across his wrist and then left it there to dry. He tries to rub it off, wondering if it's dirt, but it is not the same color. Instead it is a faded black, like the ink of a tattoo. Coriolanus rubs at it again, unsure what it was, where it came from.
No matter what he tries, he cannot remove it from his skin.
Lucy Gray had almost forgotten about the strange dream she had when she was three. When she woke up, she was almost sure it wasn't even a dream, more likely something she had imagined in between her waking and her truly being asleep. Safe to say that after two years of nothing afterwards, she had almost completely erased it from her memories.
Then it happens again.
The boys are older, of course. They both look like mirror images of each other, if she thinks about it. The Capitol boy with light hair and eyes, skinny and delicate like freshly fallen snow. The district boy, with dark hair and eyes, somber yet well fed, posture carrying something that Lucy Gray can't quite understand. It must have something to do with the war. Lucy Gray doesn't know much about the war, her parents do their best to avoid it, but she knows it's still ongoing.
Is that why the Capitol boy is so skinny? He seems fine, but Lucy Gray still remembers the last time she saw him, can now read the hunger that's lacing his bones. Is he not eating? Why not, there must be food in the Capitol.
The dark haired boy exhales slowly, glancing between the two of them like he really still can't believe it. “Okay… this is really real. We're all real.”
This is what he said last time, Lucy Gray remembers that vividly. Moreso than she should remember something like that. “Of course we're real!”
The brown haired boy flushes as the white haired boy scoffs. The brown haired boy glances at him, at her, suddenly shy. “I'm Sejanus Plinth.”
“Lucy Gray Baird.” She chirps, pleased with the way her name rolls off her tongue. They both turn to the last boy, who stands with his arms crossed, unyielding.
“Why bother?” He asks, looks away from them. The dream is different this time, a hazy backdrop of mountains reaching up into the clouds in the distance, cracked dirt and sand shifting underneath their feet. “It's not like it matters.”
She speaks up before Sejanus can, unafraid of his standoffish behavior. “They must not teach you manners in the Capitol, huh?”
The boy bristles at that, and Lucy Gray thinks she might have touched a nerve. Even so, the boy calms quickly, pats down his clothes (which are dirty, almost threadbare, close to tearing-) and says, “Coriolanus Snow, if you must know.”
Lucy Gray wrinkles her nose. “That's a mouthful.” Is what her mother would say when she heard a long name. She would also laugh politely, warmly, and it wouldn't sound like an insult. Lucy Gray did not do that.
Sejanus, sensing his ire, quickly cuts in. “Are you both okay?” He asks, genuine, even though he barely knows them. Lucy Gray sends him a quick smile, nodding, grateful anyways. Coriolanus narrows his eyes, almost as if he's suspicious.
“Of course I am fine.” He crosses his arms, almost spits out. “Why wouldn't I be?”
“Well, you look really hungry.” Sejanus says, rather blunt, and Lucy Gray nods along with him.
“Yeah.” She adds, confident. “Like my family after a bad winter.”
Coriolanus scowls, snapping. “I'm fine!” He looks away, bottom lip trembling in what Lucy Gray assumes is rage. “It's none of your business anyway. What is this? Where are we?”
She understands that he's not speaking of the blurry backdrop they now all stare at. “I don't know.” On a whim, she glanced at her arm, fingertips brushing against the mark that had appeared on her wrist, long ago. She now remembers when it appeared, now realizes that isn't just a side effect of the Covey lifestyle. Luckily, her parents never thought of it as anything more than a dirt stain. “This thing reminds me of something, though. Not sure what...”
Sejanus glances at his own wrist, eyes darting back and forth between the two. They look identical, a picture copied two times over, stuck on all three of them. “I've never heard of anything like this before.” He says, voice full of wonder, of awe, reverence and curiosity and slight, very slight fear.
Lucy Gray smiles, mirth curling her lips. “You must've never met Covey before, then.”
Coriolanus frowns, narrows his eyes. He's a suspicious one, she can tell. Different from the last time they had met. Wild in a way he would never admit, hungry, like the wounded animals her daddy would put down in the woods. Put them out of their misery, he would say, before they starve to death instead.
(He was like the moon, she realizes. Pale and small, yet somewhat impossible to look away from.)
He opens his mouth. Possibly to question her, to ask what she means. Lucy Gray never learns what he was going to say, as she wakes up moments later.
It is late the next day when she shows her parents her mark. Upon seeing it, her parents sit her down. They tell her a tale.
Look into the night sky, they had said, she remembers, but not really. She remembers their words, not their voices. Their message, not their image. The stars up above, their constellations share their desire.
Look at Will, her mother, or maybe it was her father, had traced out the constellation for her, let her draw it out in the dirt. Headstrong, stubborn. They have a feud with the being Fate, and have devised many plots to alter its currents.
Tired of Fate holding all control, the stars that formed the constellation of Will devised a new way to loosen Fate’s control. By linking the lives of Fate’s minions together, they can dramatically alter destiny. They can defeat Fate.
Lucy Gray does not understand it. It seems far-fetched, almost, an old tale passed down through the ages that very well should be forgotten. The stars are not made for a human to understand. Her momma, her daddy, her sibling, someone tells her. Even so, when they have something to say, you ought to listen.
Sejanus is nervous.
He's been nervous since he first stepped foot in the Capitol. Ever since he left his home, ever since he was forced to move to this weird, not right place. Even though the war had only just ended, some are already pretending that it's been over for decades. Parts of the Capitol are bathed in color and glitter, hiding the dull and lifelessness hidden underneath.
He thinks he hates the Capitol.
His stomach twists as he walks into the Academy, remorseful for all the things his father has done to get him here. This school was the best of the best, only the most privileged could even dare think of attend. Sejanus should not be here, did not belong here, but that had not stopped his father.
He holds his homemade lunch close to his side as a low murmur of whispers started bouncing along the walls. Eyes pierced into his soul, sharp and mean and vindictive. Everyone knew who he was, knew he did not belong. Some are scowling, some are snickering, some just stare, like he is a rare, exotic thing. Something they've never seen before.
Sejanus has never felt so lost. So out of place.
He had been given a tour before the Academy had opened, a few days ago, so he knew where his classes were. He heads towards his first class, planning on sitting inside the classroom and waiting out the time there, where he might be saved from the whispers and ridicule. Sejanus does not make it far, anyhow, a taller kid stepping in front of his path. Suddenly, he was surrounded.
“Hey, you're a district vermin, right?” Sejanus tries to step around him, but there's nowhere for him to go. He's crowded in, unable to escape. “Shouldn't you be back home, eating off the floor or something?”
His ma had warned him, had said this might happen. She had explained why, sounded pained to do so. She said not to take them seriously, that they were all younger and that they didn't understand how hurtful they were being. She didn't tell Sejanus to forgive them, but she told him that they didn't understand.
Sejanus thinks they do.
His face turns red as he stares at the ground, fists clenched. He can taste his own embarrassment, upset with himself for even feeling it at all. Other kids start joining in, mocking and insulting him until it's just a blended mess of syllables and phonetics in his head.
Childish, his ma had said. Sejanus was a child, and yet he did not bully others like this. He thinks his ma gives these Capitol children too much credit.
They understand what they're doing. They are not innocent, they're a pit of vipers waiting for their next feeding.
The kids all shift slightly, crowding him in closer. They had moved, somewhat, enough so that other children could walk by. Given the expressions and posture, the surety in their steps and the cocky way they move, Sejanus can only assume that they are like some of the kids back home. They also have popular kids.
One of these kids, a girl Sejanus can barely see through the crowd, detaches from the group to join those harassing him. He frowns, each jabbing insult already faded into the background for him. They all hiss their barbed words in tandem, and it takes too much for him to decipher each insult. He'd rather not hear anything at all, rather keep his brain from processing any of it.
Sejanus looks past the new bully. Suddenly, the barrage of noise and voices goes silent.
Coriolanus. He's right in front of him. He's right there.
They meet eyes. Time seems to stop. He's standing with the popular kids, which makes sense. Sejanus would expect Coriolanus to be popular, would think something was off with the school if he wasn't. The other boy stares at him, eyes wide, shocked.
Sejanus can't look away. The kids’ vicious remarks no longer reach his ears. They never even get close. He suddenly feels hungry.
His wrist burns.
Coriolanus turns around and walks away. His movements are hurried, quick. He's running. Running. From Sejanus.
Sejanus stares at where Coriolanus was just moments ago, still deaf to those around him. He stares at that spot until his vision blurs and the others abandon him in favor of attending class.
They do not share another dream. Not for a long time, after that.
He, unlike every other Capitol bred person at the Academy, did not bully Sejanus.
When the boy had first arrived the others seemed almost keen on tormenting him, as if that would somehow make him go away. He became the scapegoat of the entire class, their outlet for whatever mood struck them at any given time.
Coriolanus did not participate in it. He does not talk to him much either. Well, at least at the beginning.
Young and confused and controlled by those who taught him, Coriolanus was more keen to ignore the mark on his wrist, pretend he had no connection to Sejanus. If he had, the other kids might turn on him as well. If they had learned the truth behind his name, had learned how impoverish the Snows had become…
Sejanus had immediately asked about it, the moment he was able to catch him alone. When Coriolanus pretended like he had never had dreams of him, or anything of the sort, Sejanus seemed to grasp what he was doing quickly.
That did not, contrary to what Coriolanus thought would happen, stop him.
The other boy was keen on being his friend, as if he thought Coriolanus was a beacon of light in a shadowed world. He was determined to be his friend, stuck to his side like a snake wrapped around its prey.
Coriolanus allows it, because there is not much else he can do. He'd rather not make an enemy of the Plinths, and it's not as if he wants to reject the other boy anyway. Something within him likes the attention, recognizes how it differs from others. It's more genuine, real, a need to care that doesn't come from family or from the reputation of his name. Sejanus looks at him like he wouldn't be himself without him. Coriolanus is the only one he looks at like that. He likes that, craves it, though he does not know why.
Sejanus' effort towards caring for him does not help destroy his tolerance towards the boy, either. If Coriolanus was older when Sejanus walked into his waking life, maybe Coriolanus could have turned him down, rejected the offer. His pride would have climbed, his need for secrecy concrete. As it is, Coriolanus was eight years old, and the first time he finally accepted Sejanus' invitation to come over, it was too late.
Coriolanus may have been ignoring the dream conversations they have shared, but Sejanus sure wasn't. He should have realized when Sejanus started inviting him over constantly, started having his mother offer food whenever he was visiting. It was improper to decline every time, and Sejanus' mother always asked, and always made too much. And Sejanus always praised her food, always said that Coriolanus' cousin would probably love to try it too. Coriolanus would leave with left overs that would have usually taken them days to get through, with how they usually conserved.
Sejanus knew. He never mentioned it, never spoke the words out loud, but he knew. He had recognized that, at some point, Coriolanus didn't have the resources, the money necessary to eat properly. He knew, and he helped, and he didn't mention it once.
If Coriolanus was older when he first offered, he may have said no. His pride may have stopped his grandma’am and Tigris from eating regularly again.
He recognizes that now Sejanus has something to hold over his head, something to use against him, but he also recognizes that he's thinking like a Capitol person would think. Sejanus is district, Sejanus is naive, Sejanus looks at him like he would die if Coriolanus left him. If anything, Coriolanus was the one who held the strings here.
Befriending Coriolanus, as the young head of an old, reputable house, definitely had some plus sides. They are fourteen now, and the bullying that had tormented Sejanus for so long had calmed, diminished to almost nothing. It was mostly in part to Coriolanus - the fact that he was even fine being associated with Sejanus. There were only a few old names that could question him without it being inappropriate, and Coriolanus dealt with it easily enough. He was a top student, was above the pettiness and squabbling of the others. As long as he showed no weaknesses, demonstrated that Sejanus was useful, and not just something to be rid of, the other students at the Academy will start seeing him that way as well. Will start seeing him like they see all others.
(He dealt with harassment, from the ages nine to ten, once the others noticed that Coriolanus not only didn't insult Sejanus, but actually tolerated him to the point of conversing freely with him. It did not bother him much, he could easily take care of himself. Could easily take care of both of them.)
They're currently in one of the many watch rooms in the Plinths’ mansion. It was the night of the 6th Hunger Games, and something was amiss. Not only had the Games not ended, even though it was getting late, but they were not at the Academy, where they normally watched the Games.
The latter was easily explainable. Sejanus, not wanting to see the Games, faked an illness so he would not have to come to school. Because Coriolanus spends so much time with him, he was instructed not to come either, lest they both be contagious. With the Capitol only just now pulling itself out of its slump, they don't need their top children to all fall ill with something potentially deadly.
Still, this act does not completely fool Sejanus' father, who forces him to watch the Games at home instead. Coriolanus had come over because Sejanus' mother, guilted at the thought of her son spreading his sickness, had made some warm soup for him to have. All things considered, it was pretty good.
Sejanus hadn't touched his own food. He was staring at the screen, looking vaguely sick. In the arena, the last three tributes were circling each other.
Normally, Coriolanus doesn't care about the Games, nor what happens in them. He understands their importance, why they go on and why they must continue, but he is detached from it, even more so than the other Academy students. They can at least find it entertaining - Coriolanus does not bother with it at all.
Yet, this time, something is different. This time he is interested, a morbid sense of curiosity causing him to look at the screen, unable to look away. Maybe it's because it's just him and Sejanus here, maybe it's because Sejanus does not filter himself with Coriolanus. He says what is on his mind, what he truly means and thinks. He is his pure self, his true self, and for some reason that means Coriolanus is now interested in the games.
It's subtle, he feels. Barely noticeable, a faint whiff of something that barely even feels like his own. They are emotions, focused on the Games, but they're too abstract, too distant, for him to grasp. Coriolanus frowns, focuses on these emotions even though he doesn't want to know, nor really understand, these feelings. Unbidden, an image pops into his head, a picture of the arena, but Lucy Gray and Sejanus are the tributes, this time. They are in the game.
Suddenly, he finds this whole thing quite unfair.
Do not let a stereotype stop you from using something to its fullest, Coriolanus.
This… this was a waste of potential, he realizes. While Coriolanus doesn't know what exactly these kids could amount to, throwing away their lives like this was not it! Not when the Capitol was barely entertained, not when the districts were more angry than in fear. Not only that, but it was random! What if one of these children could actually contribute to their district in the future, create resources the Capitol would want? It's all getting thrown away.
This punishment… these Games… for a single moment, they seem like a terrible idea.
The mark on his wrist burns.
Coriolanus shakes his head, throws that almost traitorous idea out of his head. There is a reason behind the Games, needed to keep the peace and keep the districts in their place. He takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. Next to him, Sejanus jerks violently as a tribute runs the second last tribute through with a machete, hacking and swinging until they are beyond sure that they are the winner.
He feels disgust, horror, faint like a whisper in his ear. For a moment, he thinks he might be sick, just like Sejanus.
And, for the first time in years, he has another strange dream.
“I found Coryo!” Is the first thing Sejanus says to Lucy Gray, giddy and joyful. He gestures to Coriolanus, as if to prove a point. Lucy Gray laughs, like Sejanus' nickname for him is endearing.
They both notice it immediately. Just how Sejanus and Lucy Gray had seen the weight he had lost, they both notice the change in Lucy Gray. She is skinny, wary, worn in a way she wasn't before. Even still, there's something about her posture, the way she stands, that reminds Coriolanus of a blazing fire. A defiance in her stance that can't be tamed, can't be controlled.
Coriolanus is speaking before he even realizes, says like he can't control it, like it's not himself. “Are you alright, Lucy Gray?”
The girl seems surprised for a moment, head tilting. “I didn't think a Capitol boy would be so worried about a district girl like me.”
He shouldn't be. If anyone else found out about this, even Tigris, they might think him a traitor. Still- “I'm friends with Sejanus, aren't I?”
…Is he?
Did he just admit to being friends with-?
He did not need to say that. The easy excuse there was to say that he was worried because of their possible connection, and what would happen to him if she wasn't alright? And yet, for some reason, he decided to call Sejanus Plinth, a district boy, his friend, and Sejanus looked so pleased about it too. “We are.” He immediately comes to Coriolanus' aid. “He's a good person now, trust me.”
Coriolanus has to hold back a snort at Sejanus’ nativity. Even Lucy Gray seems disbelieving. “Okay…” She looks away, down to her arm. “And do either of you know the meaning of this mark?”
Coriolanus studies his wrist. The mark had changed, at some point. Its solid black had shifted, turning a navy color, dark purple brushing against the outside. It's reminiscent of a night sky.
“It reminds me of something.” Lucy Gray continues, murmuring. “Something my parents said, a long while ago. They say the stars connected us together. Said it was for a big, important reason.”
Coriolanus doesn't believe in district folklore, unless there is an accompanying or matching Capitol story that corroborates it. Actually, he should do some research of his own, go and see if there's any Capitol tales of this mark, what it could possibly mean, possibly be for.
Sejanus only spends a second looking at his mark before looking away, staring at their surroundings. The dream is a forest, this time, a dense wooded area full of vegetation and nature. “Where is this place?”
“Home.” Lucy Gray says simply, staring out wistfully at nothing. “Or at least one of them. The earth is my home, don't matter if it's rock or soil or sand, but I do like the forests the most. I dream of this place most nights.”
Coriolanus doesn't understand. He stares at their surroundings, trying to find the words. “We're in the middle of the woods.”
There was no home out here. She can't be saying she sleeps on rocks and soil and sand, right?
Lucy Gray studies him for a moment, like she had just asked a question and Coriolanus had just given a bizarre reply as an answer. She seemed almost perplexed, her brows furrowing when she sees Sejanus wearing the same expression as him.
“Wow.” Is what she says, after another moment of silence. “Neither of you know shit about Covey, huh?”
They dream together regularly now, almost every week it seems.
Lucy Gray enjoys it. She now has another audience to practice her songs on, to get a feel for her music. The boys find it captivating, as if there is no music in the Capitol that can compare with her voice. It makes her preen, the almost dazed adoration that blankets their faces once she's finished a song. Lucy Gray could get used to the attention, could start hungering for it.
She might already be.
When she isn't singing, the boys spend a lot of their time rushing through assignments due the next morning, discussing the layout of what they want to write so that they can hastily scribble it down come morning. At some point, their topics and conversation started to peak her interest. Particularly, the Capitol's discussion about the latter half of the districts.
Mostly because it wasn't right.
She scoffs when she first recognizes it, as Sejanus explains the geography of district 11, and the two boys turn to look at her, almost as if they can feel her disappointment.
“Just what are they teaching you at this Academy?” She lays her hands on her hips, cocks her head to the side. Around them, the dream’s landscape changes into something she's sure neither of them have seen. “See here? This is what the districts look like.”
They had learned a while ago that, if one of them feels strongly enough about something, they can shape their dream around it. Lucy Gray had the most control over it, by far, and it irritated her, how the Capitol explains the districts. They can be direct in their hate, call them barbaric savages, but they can also be subtle, enough so that even Sejanus believes them.
The Capitol had told them that the swamps and bayous in district 11 were worthless, just something in the way that kept the district from expanding. Lucy Gray showed them how beautiful they truly looked, let them see the old curved trees and the full range of animals that called this place their home. They watched as fireflies caused the trees and air to spark and glow.
Lucy Gray spends half of the dream showing off places she had traveled before, explaining different flora and fauna she had seen on the way. Sejanus decides to follow her, giving them a tour of district 2. He showed off where he used to live, used childhood memories to explain why each place was important to him, why he missed it so much. He seemed to get more somber, with each memory he uncovered, which is why Lucy Gray suggests that Coriolanus shows off his home next.
Lucy Gray feels his apprehensiveness more so than she sees it, and she wonders how it must be, living in the Capitol one's whole life, never truly experiencing the world. She's about to retract her suggestion, when the world around them shifts once more. They stand in a garden now, surrounded by white and red roses on all sides. Coriolanus takes a hesitant step backwards, unsure, startled, pained. He had not meant to show this to them, had not meant to show his memories.
There is a woman here, bent over a flower bed, tending to the roses. Coriolanus is also there, younger, a mere child, kneeling next to his mother. They are both tending to the garden, and that surprises Lucy Gray. From what she's learned, those with money in the Capitol don't have to do any labor. And yet here they were, and Coriolanus' mother looked heavily pregnant as well.
‘I find it soothing, dear.’ A voice says, coming from the mother, yet she does not look up, does not move her mouth. Two different memories blurring together, becoming one as time passed. The woman moves, this time, tilting her head up and laughing. ‘Maybe it wants you to make more friends.’
This is directed at young Coriolanus, who looks at her and seems to pout. Their Coriolanus watches the interaction, a pained look on his face. As if he's seeing something he had wanted long forgotten.
Sejanus looks between the two, conflicted. He comes to their Coriolanus' side, places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It's a beautiful garden.” He says, tone soft, tender.
“Yes.” They ignore the crack in his voice. “Mother loves this garden. She would tend to it whenever able.”
There's a breeze, a rush of wind. Lucy Gray can suddenly smell roses, can suddenly remember the feeling of warmth and love and everything in between that came with them. She stares at the memory, keeping Coriolanus in the corner of her vision. Her wrist burns. She does not look.
They are silent, as they watch the memory play before them. Lucy Gray thinks about Will, about Fate. The ones that Will chooses are agents of Fate. One of these people have a great destiny to fulfill, and by connecting them to another that destiny will not come to fruition.
She wonders which one of them is the one destined to change the world. She wonders what they do that would cause Will to want to stop them. She wonders if they deserve this.
Sejanus is the first to realize that some of the emotions he feels are not his own.
It's hard to notice, at first. It's a slow drip, only the most extreme emotions coming through. Sejanus does not know how Coriolanus feels most days, but if something truly delights or upsets him, Sejanus can get the barest inkling of what he's feeling. As for Lucy Gray, he only ever feels through her in their dreams. It may be a distance thing, or something else he doesn't fully understand yet.
As time has passed, it's become more noticable. The drip has turned into a trickle, and Sejanus now feels Coriolanus' emotions influence his own, and his in turn do the same. It is still only extreme emotions, they only happen irregularly, at times when they feel too much of one thing. The day of the Hunger Games are when Sejanus cannot control himself, leaks emotions and takes in Coryo’s like they were meant to be shared.
He knows how Coriolanus feels about the Games. Unlike Sejanus' revulsion, Coryo mostly felt… disappointed. Dissatisfied. As if he expected more from the Capitol. He either felt like the Games could be made better, or they should be repurposed into something else. Sejanus only ever caught whiff of these emotions when he himself was revolting against the Games enough to irritate Coriolanus. Then his irritation would leak through, would allow Sejanus to realize how he truly feels.
It makes him sick, each time he recognizes those feelings.
Still, he recognizes how his friend grew up, what it would be like to live surrounded only by the Capitol. Coriolanus once lived in luxury, just like how Sejanus does now. Sejanus thinks that, if he was born with it and a war with the districts not only took it from him, but caused his father's death, he might feel the same too.
Still, he knows Coriolanus can change.
Sejanus recognized that long ago, maybe even when he first befriended him, because long ago, Coriolanus thought the Games were necessary. He, like the rest of the Capitol, believed that without the Games the districts would revolt once more, and that this was a deserved punishment for all they've done to the Capitol. Nowadays, Coryo's views towards the Games are nowhere near as positive. He seems bored of them, tired of an obviously broken system, negative towards a punishment that doesn't do it's job properly. While Sejanus knows that is still not how he wants Coriolanus to feel, it is a step in the right direction.
(It's a change, one he's sure he influenced in him. If Sejanus has been sharing his emotions for years now, accidentally, and Coriolanus never bothered to mention it, he must not have recognized it either. He hasn't recognized that those emotions aren't his own, that that disgust and feeling of vile aren't actually his. He's gone from his despise of the districts to indifference because of Sejanus, and Sejanus should feel bad, accidentally doing this, now purposefully doing this, but he doesn't.)
He understands that Coriolanus has a reason to hate the districts, he learned long ago that the war took everything from the Snows. The first emotion he ever felt from Coryo was hunger, almost the moment they met. The feeling didn't abate until he saw Coryo eat at lunch, wondered if, how, they could be connected.
(He's been trying to give Coriolanus food ever since. Feeding him whenever possible. Even as young as he was, it was easy to figure out why he could possibly be so hungry.)
This led him, after a few weeks of this, to do his own research on this bond of theirs. It took him years to find anything that even slightly caught his attention, and it wasn't until his ma managed to import a book from district 2 that he was able to find something interesting.
Though he's not even sure if it's connected at all.
The book is full of folktales, but only one really catches his eye. It's a story about the Sun, earth, moon, and the inexplicable ties between them.
Sol’s full attention would destroy Terra, so to save her, Luna devised a way to split the day, forming night and forcing Sol away. Sol is a powerful being, however, and Luna cannot hold it for long before being overpowered, hiding behind Terra once she has become too weak.
Still, Sol cannot be destroyed. He gives Terra warmth and light, keeps them both in orbit, gives them protection. They are tied together, made to work forevermore.
Something about it rubs him the wrong way.
Of course, nowadays they know that scientifically this wasn't how the planets and sun worked, but that wasn't what bothered him. He studied the story in his free time, asked his ma about it to get her opinion.
“It's about balance.” Is what she says, humming. They're in a study, his ma picking through a book. “And how it's important to keep it.”
“Is it?” Sejanus questions. “The sun doesn't need the moon and earth to exist. It would be there either way.”
“Maybe.” She agrees, catches his eyes and locks him in place with her stare alone. “But then there's nothing for it to shine too.”
He thinks that's a little silly, but the more he sits with it the more it makes him wonder. After a while internally debating it, he likes to think that Coryo is the Sun in the story, a beacon of blinding light that shines his brilliance upon them all. So much above his peers, it's hard to even look at him. What everyone, when they're older, will look upon with reverence.
And then he remembers Lucy Gray.
Lucy Gray, who is a brightness that cannot be dulled or tempered, cannot be dampened, a girl who shines like a supernova whenever she smiles, whenever she sings. And her being deserves to be witnessed, deserves to be seen and appreciated, because that's just how magnificent she can be.
Sejanus pauses for a moment, his thoughts halting. He blushes.
His ma calls him to dinner.
Sejanus is not the one who tells Coriolanus that the Plinth scholarship is not available this year.
Instead he learns from the dean, and Coriolanus has never been closer to strangling the man than he is now. Not to mention Sejanus, who is looking at him apologetically, regret in his eyes.
Normally, they're supposed to sit down during the reaping, act civilized like this wasn't a death game, wasn't an outdated punishment. For whatever reason, this time, they just started, without any of the usual fanfare. Or maybe there was some, and Coriolanus was too busy internally spiraling to notice.
(No, everyone was still standing, clumped in groups and watching the screen. He's fine, he didn't miss anything-)
He blinks and Sejanus stands in front of him, hair messy and eyes wide, full of remorse, of anger. “Coryo, I-I I'm so sorry I didn't tell you earlier-” his voice is low, hushed, and he looks like he wants to touch him, barely refrains himself. “I only just learned late last night, and we didn't share a dream so I couldn't-”
He only half hears it, trying to figure out how he could possibly get the scholarship now, under probably unfair circumstances, if the dean was involved. He stares at Sejanus, eyes widen and almost unseeing. They're by the wall, away from others, from unwanted attention. Coriolanus barely even notices.
How is he supposed to help his family now? That scholarship was everything, everything!
He wouldn't be able to pursue a higher education without it, he wouldn't get anywhere without it. The Snow name and family would fall into the gutters, this was not fair, how was this-
The reaping had started. Coriolanus doesn't really recognize Markus' name be called, barely heard Sejanus' name goes with it. He sees Sejanus flinch, feels his confusion, his realization, his panic and anger, but it fades into a simmering thing that Coriolanus can no longer reach when they lock eyes again. Normally, when a reaping starts, they both hope and pray that Lucy Gray’s name doesn't get called. This time, Coriolanus is too far gone to really care.
(He had… he had felt Sejanus' emotions, hadn't he? That's what he did, so easily too, as if they were his to feel, to take, he didn't even question it-)
Panic starts to close in around him, elevated by Sejanus' own feelings. Sejanus notices, glances around before placing a friendly hand on his shoulder, as close as they can be in public, in a snake den. He's whispering under his breath, telling Coriolanus how to breathe. He listens, if barely. He has not heard his name, yet they're already near the end. He will have a useless tribute, one who cannot win, this is what the dean wanted.
He's failed.
“Coryo.” Sejanus says, and Coriolanus thinks he's said it over and over again, by this point. “No matter what happens, I will always be here. I will help you, your family, in any way possible. Please trust that.”
Coriolanus grits his teeth. He hates handouts, his pride cannot take handouts.
“It's not a handout.” Sejanus says, though Coriolanus is sure he hadn't spoken aloud. “We're friends, Coryo, I care about you.”
There is a genuine sincerity in his voice, enough to make Coriolanus pause. The Capitol is ruthless, no Capitol citizen would do something like this without something being in it for them. Sejanus is district, through and through. Weak, naive, gullible.
Kind.
He opens his mouth, goes to answer, not knowing what he even wanted to say, when a name stops them both in their tracks.
“Lucy Gray Baird!”