An Ode to Her - Coriolanus Snow

Chapter 1

Coriolanus Snow woke in a cold sweat. It was the day. The day a boy such as himself would not usually dread, but it's different this time. The Hunger Games always left a little bit of a bad taste in his mouth. He understood why they were held, of course. They were set in place to remind the districts of the power the Capitol holds over them. That if they try to rebel again, they can easily be stopped; just from pulling one boy and one girl from each district to fight to the death, leaving one sole victor. Was it barbaric? Maybe. But life was all about control. And Coriolanus Snow loved control. He thrived on it.

The boy rolled out of bed, ruffling his blonde curls as he set for the bathroom. He stood under the scalding water, hoping to wash away his nightmares from his sleep. He had them most nights. His father's presence and his mother's passing being the star of the show. He shaved his face, perfecting the routine after months of trying to fit in. He threw on his black dress pants he scooped off of the black market, but soon realized he had no shirt. Tigris, his cousin, and only real confidant, had it somewhere. Coriolanus called for her as he walked into the kitchen. There was cabbage broth boiling on the stove. He poured himself a bowl and tried to stomach it. If he were hungry during the reaping, people would certainly notice. And how embarrassing would it be for a Snow to be outed as poor? He had kept the facade up for this long, no need for it all to be wasted on some silly ceremony. But he couldn't finish all of it. It was too disgusting.

Still, this wasn't just any reaping. This year, the top 24 students in Coriolanus's class at the Academy, a prestigious school for only the best and most wealthy citizens of Panem, would be given a tribute that they had to mentor. It was a way to gain more viewers for the Games. But what were they to do? He didn't exactly know. He wasn't skilled in combat, he didn't know how to do anything requiring muscle, and he certainly couldn't give advice on how to kill another person. He had absolutely nothing to offer his tribute, besides his wit. His intelligence is practically the only thing keeping the Snow family afloat. That and selling most of their valuables during and after the war. So this is why he needed the shirt. His father's shirt. Tigris had promised to make it up new, and he had held her to it.

"Coryo!" Tigris's voice filtered in through the foyer. She met him in the kitchen, and in her hands a fabulous, seemingly new shirt lay neatly.

"Tigris!" he exclaimed, grabbing the item and admiring it. "How did you do it?" The shirt had been a dingy yellow, with cigarette stains and missing buttons from his father's younger days before he died. But now it was a lovely off-white, yet not grimy looking. It was light and beautiful, the buttons made of something familiar.

"I told Fabricia that her curtains needed bleaching, so I threw the shirt in with them. The color will never go back to white, and I apologize for that, but I think it still looks presentable. Oh, and the buttons! I told the maintenance guy that I would fix his old overalls if he drilled some holes in the maid's bathroom. Tesserae," Tigris explains.

"Thank you," he says. "It's perfect."

She pulls him in for a hug and as they embrace, Coriolanus can hear the Grandma'am singing the Capitol anthem from the other room.

"That reminds me," Tigris pulls away, "Grandma'am, come see Coryo's outfit!" She ushers him to put on the shirt and give them a spin.

The Grandma'am applauds and beams as she enters the room, crossing over to her grandson. "You look just like your father, Coriolanus." A compliment, maybe. But Coriolanus and his father never truly... connected. It was his mother who he missed terribly. He can still smell her scent, roses, on the personal items that he gained after she passed.

Grandma'am pins a small, red rose onto his black vest that Tigris had placed on him moments before. Coriolanus goes to stop her, but she shakes her head.