𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃 || coriolanus snow [✓]

II

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

CHAPTER 2

*°:⋆ₓₒ
      ⇢  I STEP OFF THE TRAIN slowly with Liam, keeping my distance. We don't speak—not to each other, not to anyone. One of us is going to die, and there's no point in making that harder than it already is. But as much as I want to keep my head down, something—or rather, someone—immediately catches my attention.

A tall, blonde man approaches, hands behind his back, chest puffed out like a rooster on steroids. Capitol. But not the usual brand of flamboyant nightmare. He's cleaner, more put-together, and not dripping in gaudy nonsense.

Still an asshole, though.

As he nears, he pulls out a white rose and offers it to me. "Welcome to the Capitol," he says, his voice devoid of any real warmth.

I pluck a petal from the flower and pop it into my mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, I hum. "Tastes just like bedtime." I flash a sharp smile, tilting my head. "You look far too dashing to be my mother, sir."

His face remains impassive, but I see the flicker of irritation. Good.

"Are you supposed to be here?" I continue, dragging my gaze up and down his pristine appearance. "You don't look like you belong."

"I shouldn't, but I'm your mentor," he replies matter-of-factly.

A laugh escapes before I can stop it. "A rebel? Oh, honey, please. And what exactly does my so-called mentor do? Besides stand around looking pretty and handing out flowers like some tragic lover in a bad romance novel?"

"I do my best to take care of you," he says, jaw tightening.

I stare at him for a beat before letting out a dramatic sigh. "Well, good luck with that, gorgeous." I snatch the rose from him, wink, and turn away.

Liam and I are shoved into a cramped van with the other tributes, and I barely get a moment to breathe before my "mentor" gets himself into trouble.

"What's the matter, pretty boy? Wrong cage?" one of the tributes sneers, eyes narrowing at him like he's fresh meat.

"No, this cage is delightful," Snow says, forcing a small, tight-lipped smile. I can practically smell the disgust he's trying to hide.

"Get him, Reaper," another voice eggs on. And just like that, Snow has a forearm pressing into his throat.

The tributes circle like vultures, throwing around threats like confetti, and I let out an exasperated groan. "Alright, alright, cool it, you bloodthirsty psychos. Y'all got family back home? Good. Kill him, and they kill them." I lean back, arms crossed, expression unimpressed. "Then they kill you."

The van falls into silence.

"Besides, he's my mentor," I add with a shrug. "Might need him for... something."

One of the tributes, some freckled nightmare, scoffs. "Why do you get a mentor?"

"Because I'm special," I deadpan.

"You mean Capitol special or slow special?"

I smirk, dragging my gaze over her with faux pity. "Oh, sweetheart, if I was your mentor and saw your face, I'd run too."

The van suddenly jerks violently, sending all of us flying. I slam my head against something sharp and stay down for a second, blinking through the pain.

When I finally push myself up, my "mentor" looks shell-shocked, frozen like a deer about to get hit by a train. I roll my eyes. "Own it, Snow," I murmur.

He straightens, smoothing out his fancy little suit, and steps forward with a smirk. "(Y/N) (Last Name), may I introduce you to my neighbors?" He plucks the white rose from his pocket and tucks it into my hair like we're playing dress-up.

The reporters eat it up. I can already see the headlines: The Songbird and the Snake. How original.

The interview begins, and I quickly become the Capitol's newest circus act. I entertain a couple of kids, flash smiles, and throw out sarcastic quips.

"Your dress, it's a big hit with the kids." The reporter smiles.

"Well the covey fancy color, me more so than most considering the misery that is district 12. But this dress was my mama's"

"Is she I'm district twelve?"

I snicker for a moment before responding. "Yeah, just her ashes.

Then, finally, the host addresses my mentor.

"The Gamemakers approved of this?" Flickerman asks, skeptically eyeing Snow.

"They didn't tell me not to, per se," Snow says smoothly. "Just that it was a mentor's job to introduce their tribute. And if she's brave enough to volunteer, why shouldn't I be?"

His voice drips with that Capitol charm, and it pisses me off.

"For the record, I didn't have a choice," I mutter, untangling myself from his arm.

"For the record, it looks like you're about to get snatched away, Coriolanus Snow," Flickerman remarks, nodding toward the peacekeepers approaching behind us.

I glance back and sigh dramatically. "Be a doll and bring us a meal, would you, pretty boy? We've been starved since the Reaping."

With that, I let the peacekeepers drag him away and saunter back to Liam, finally breaking my silence.

"God, I need a drink."

edited 3/1/25