A Ballad of a Different Chord

Chapter I

A/N: Portions of this fic are respectfully lifted directly from "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes." This is not done with intent to infringe on copyright, but rather to aid the transition from canon to fanfic.

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Sometimes he would remember a moment of sweetness and almost wish things had ended differently...

~

Coirolanus went on mechanically covering and marking cages while his mind raced. What should he do? Part of him wanted to run to the hovercraft and erase jabberjay number 1. Put it on PLAY, then NEUTRAL, then RECORD, then NEUTRAL again in swift succession so that it would have nothing memorized but the distant shouts of the soldiers on the tarmac. But then what would his options be? To try to dissuade Sejanus from his plan? He had no confidence that he could, and even if he did, it was only a matter of time before Sejanus came up with another scheme. To rat him out to the base commander? He would likely deny it, and as the only proof lay in the jabberyjay's memory bank, Coriolanus would have nothing to back up his accusation. He didn't even know the time of the breakout, so no trap could be set. And where would that leave him with Sejanus? Or if it got out, the entire base? As a snitch, an unreliable one at that, and a troublemaker?

He'd taken care not to speak while the jabberjay was recording so as not to incriminate himself in any way. But Dr. Gaul would get the reference to the arena, and she would understand the taping had been intentional. If he sent the bird to the Citadel, she could decide best how to handle the matter. Probably she'd put in a call to Strabo Plinth, discharge Sejanus, and send him home before he did any damage. Yes, that would be best for everybody. He made a move to drop the remote in the bin of bird supplies. If all went well, Sejanus Plinth would be out of his hair in a matter of days. . .

But something stopped him. His hand hovered over the bin, suddenly seized in indecision. All he had to do was release it, walk away, and finally be done with all of this, with all the rebel nonsense, sentimental whining, and risking his life for a former classmate he barely liked. Quick, easy, effective. What was the problem then, was it guilt? He wondered with some horror. Had Sejanus, in spite of all his troublemaking and treason, finally grown on Coriolanus?

No, it was more than that. Slowly, the reason for his own hesitation dawned. So much had rearranged his world in such a short amount of time that he had nearly overlooked it, tangled far back in the complex web of misfortune his life had recently become. But it glided to the forefront now, pulling his hand away from the box with it.

Clemensia.

That day back at the Academy seemed almost a lifetime ago from where he stood now, but the sharp terror of it all had not dulled. Seeing his hand resting over this bin in a hangar full of muttations had probably triggered it. He thought back to Clemensia's own hand hovering above that bin of colorful snakes, their fangs sinking into her flesh, the ghastly scales covering her body, the secrecy surrounding her hospitalization, even to her own parents. He never had managed to get answers before as to how such a thing could be hidden from even a prominent, powerful family like the Dovecotes.

'Good. The truth, finally. I've no use for liars. What are lies but attempts to conceal some sort of weakness? If I see that side of you again, I'll cut you off.'  His teacher's cold warning hung over him like the nooses in the hanging tree.

Coriolanus had underestimated Dr. Gaul's cruelty before, and it had nearly cost Clemensia her life. If she had been willing to do that to her own student just for lying about an assignment, imagine how she would handle one who conspired with traitors to the Capitol itself. He thought back to her laboratory and the twisted, screaming Avoxes therein and felt sick. Coriolanus squeezed his eyes closed tight to banish the memory and shook his head in frustrated concession. No, no it was foolish to assume that there would be any mercy were he to deliver Sejanus' fate into her hands. He didn't know how or why, but that woman was pulling more strings in the Capitol than she seemed, and higher ones than he previously knew existed. If the Capitol born-and-bred Dovecotes hadn't been able to do anything to protect their own child from her, what made him think that the Plinths, wealthy but vulnerable in their outsider status, could?