The presidents daughter // 1 (Reader!Snow)
Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex–awesome–22, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23, @melsunshine , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis, @slythetic, @bitchybananaflower, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr
Summary: Being Snow's daughter, he puts you up with an arranged marriage just to turn the tide on the 75th hunger games' bitterness. Which victor will claim your hand under his watchful eye? [series]
With a blank stare in your eyes, you wanted to forget about the world. Curled up in bed, one hand hidden underneath your pillow for support. Half of your face buried deep into the softness of the pillow. Forget about the bellowing words that were haunting your mind. Pestering it with nothing but an aching soul.
Your heart craved tears, but you didn’t want to satisfy him into given them. For he had torn down your dreams and hopes with one decision. A decision made for pure sports and pleasure. No regards to you whatsoever. For he did not care for a counter-comment or protest. His word was final and that was just the way it was. For no one defied against the president.
Gentle knocks at your door, made you hum loud as a response. The door opened as you let your eyes go briefly up to the colourful, feathered figure. Her dress as pompous as a peacock. – “My lady.” – she spoke folding her hands neatly in front of her. – “You are requested at diner.” – she informed you with a curtsy. Withholding a sigh, you dragged yourself up.
Leaving your save nest to indulge yourself with the wealth again. Nodding once at her, you let her know to proceed. She turned on her heel, pushing the doors open. You followed on foot, remaining a few paces behind her. Watching how she waved her handkerchief at some guards. Guards standing watch inside the mansion at every given position.
“The president has requested a special banquet for you.” – she spoke. Always referring to him as ‘the president’, never as his other position. Your father. She giggled when pushing the doors open. Immediately bowing. – “My president.” – she spoke with sweetness, dipping her nose low. When rising once more, her hands gestured at you whilst moving aside.
Making room for you to enter more. At the end of the long table, he sat. Dipping his mouth with a napkin, before placing it on his lap. – “Come, come.” – he ordered with a smile. Inviting you over. You swallowed softly, going round the table to come sit down at his right side. Sitting in front of your sister who aided his left side.
She smiled briefly at you before picking up her glass of red wine. Sipping from it with her face turned away. Snow reached for a bread, breaking it in two. Stuffing it in his mouth with little care. Your gaze went from him to your sister. Seeing both of them eat as if nothing had occurred. As if not a few hours ago, your father had called you to his study.
Called you in to inform you of the spectacle he had in mind for the upcoming 75th hunger games. A spectacle to lure in more watchers for he needed all of Panem to watch. A cry to deafen out the anger raging from within the previous victors. A marriage of pure spectacle. As his youngest and unmarried daughter that privilege was preserved for you.
A privilege you couldn’t refuse nor decline. Your sister’s gaze went up to father, smiling grinningly. He returned with one of his own. As if having cooped this up together. There and then you wanted to slam your fist against the table. Call in for this nonsense to stop, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t give him the satisfactory of being this distressed about it. It only gave him more power over you.
Riling him up with the thrills of being rebelled against. A trigger point of some sort. – “Are you not hungry?” – Snow spoke watching with folded hands at you. You immediately picked up your fork. He started chuckling, sitting slouched back in his seat. Across from you, let your sister out the most humiliating sound. Arf. Mimicking a dog just to taunt you more. His obedient daughter.
Moulded and manipulated for perfection. Clenching your grip around your fork, your expression hardened at her. Tempering your anger down till it drowned out. Father merely chuckling at her comment. His hand fell down on yours. Patting it a few times as his chuckle slowly died.
You inhaled deep watching yourself in the mirror. Seeing how the designers were laying down the final touches to the dress. From the speakers and on the screen you could see him. Chat with the victors of previous years. Trying to lure out some charisma, yet nothing but grudges and rebellion performed. Giving him a hard time to turn the tide. Not even his dry laugh could help him.
A woman whispered in your ear you were ready. Turning your posture, you followed them through a long corridor filled with bright lights and red flooring. There you waited for the announcement. Gliding your gaze up to the screen. Seats filled with crowds. Caeser laughing dryly, leaning back in his chair till he came sitting up straight.
A finger pressed against his ear. Listening in with a serious expression. – “What is this? A surprise announcement.” – he explained so the crowd would be tipped with curiosity. Humming loud with nods, he listened further. Suddenly getting up. – “Ladies and gentlemen!” – he called out through the microphone. – “It’s a premier. A tip of the iceberg.” – he touched his nose with a wide smile.
“We are honoured with a special guest.” – echoed through his microphone. Taking a deep breath, you readied yourself. Caeser turned his posture half, gesturing at the entrance where other victors had come from. – “May I present you, Y/n Snow!” – announcing with joy as the panels slid aside. Blinding you with bright lights and a dazzling view.
Taking the first steps, you stepped onto the red flooring. Eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness as the crowd became more visible to you. An entire arena packed with folks of Panem. Caeser chuckled between clenched teeth, clapping his hand against the microphone. Applause erupting from within the crowd. Caeser exaggerated a gasp at the sight of your dress. A wedding dress.
Extending his hand to you, you accepted it. Letting him guide you closer. – “Always a pleasure.” – he whispered to you before pressing a deep kiss against your cheek. – “Ladies and gentlemen, Y/n Snow!” – Caeser shouted loud, parading your hand up in the air. Applause becoming deafening.
Caeser settled them down with gestures till it became silent. He took a deep breath inside the microphone to exaggerate his expressions. – “Y/n Snow, a little birdy has told me something.” – he spoke quirking an eyebrow up. – “That this is no ordinary dress, but in fact… your wedding dress.” – he continued, looking from you to the crowd from time to time.
“That is correct.” – you responded with a smile. Knowing your father was watching. Knowing it had to be perfect. Caeser came closer, leaning in with curiosity. – “Well who is the lucky guy?” – he asked, turning to the crowd then. – “Wouldn’t you all want to know?” – he questioned at the crowd as they erupted in cheers.
It made you smile a bit more pleasurable. – “So darling, who is it. We are all very eager to hear.” – Caeser had turned his attention to you once more. You lowered your gaze, breathing out a short laugh. – “He is yet to be known.” – you explained. Making Caeser look visibly confused. You cleared your throat, stepping further up to the crowd. Facing one of the camera’s directly.
“For whichever victor of the 75th hunger games marries me, shall be bestowed with privileges beyond dreams for their district and the game.” – you announced. Gasps and whispers filled the room. – “Well… well this is something remarkable. Privileges for all the excitements in exchange for the hand of this lovely woman.” – Caeser spoke through the microphone.
“Well I certainly know what I would choose.” – reaching for the hand by your hip. Raising it to plant a kiss on your knuckles. – “Miss Y/n Snow!” – he declared one last time, letting the crowd give you another round of applause. Upholding your smile, you soaked in on the applause for a few moments before returning. Smile dropping once you were out of sight. – “You were an absolute delight.” – one of the designers came cooing at your side. – “Get me out of this dress!” – you insisted upon, sounding rudely irritated.
Changed into something more suitable, you were forced to join the victors in the grand room. Where they get to know each other and seek out each top quality. You paused midtrack, gaze going upwards. From behind the glass, stood your father. Raising a glass to you. Bowing your head slightly at him, you acknowledged him. Taking a soft breath, you faced away from him.
Seeing how several victors were glancing your way. Observing you with something unknown in their glances. Taking a stand somewhere further away, you weren’t entirely sure what was to happen now. Glancing upwards to where your father was, still watching behind the safety glass. Sensing a presence, you turned your head. A young guy having approached you. – “Gloss.” – he introduced himself.
You recognized him from district 1. He certainly had the cockiness for it. Forcing yourself to smile, you allowed him to take your hand to leave a tender kiss on your knuckles. – “So miss Snow.” – he spoke as you immediately corrected him. – “Y/n.” – forcing out to be addressed like that. He cleared his throat, looking nervously over his shoulder.
You noticed the girl from his district signalling to him. He turned his posture towards you again with a wide smile. – “So… what do these privileges include? Not that I need them, but if I can snatch them right from under the nose of any of the other pathetic victors, I call that a win.” – he responded.
“I do not know…” – you sighed out. – “Only my father knows.” – continuing as your attention drifted away. Knowing what kind of deal this would be. Victors faking and pleasing you to gain your affection or your father’s approval for marriage and return a praised victor to their district.
Gloss hummed deep. He left your side. Keeping an eye on the glass to be sure your father was watching. Picking up a weapon, he threw it with little effort right into the bullseye. Smiling up at your father, he bowed. Waiting for a praise from him. Your father merely tapped his fingers against his glass. A minor applause for him. Sighing soft, your shoulders slouched. For the spectacles had begun. A game of lies and praising for your father, not you. You were but a pawn in the middle of the board to reach the king.
“Sugar cube?” – the sudden new voice caught you off guard. Rapidly turning your head at the blonde boy from district 4. – “I mean it’s supposed to be for the horses, but… who cares about them right?” – he went on throwing in a charming smile. – “I do.” – you responded reaching for the sugar cube in his hand.
He threw it up, catching it again as your hand had moved back. – “You don’t look very happy for your wedding day.” – he answered letting the cube roll between his fingers. – “It’s not my wedding day.” – you reminded him. He hummed curiously. Brushing his fingers at his chin thoughtfully. Sucking in a breath before speaking.
“Did big old pops arrange this all for you.” – he spoke with half a smile. – “Let me guess, deducting is one of your top talents.” – you replied with a sarcastic undertone. He chuckled amusingly at your witty remark. Your eyes widened confused when he neared. Bringing his face close to yours to whisper at your ear. – “Actually it’s my charm.”
When he moved his head back, his eyes lingered on you. Breath hot on your lips from how close he was. – “My father would love that.” – you responded taking a step back. Finnick chuckled, lowering his gaze. – “Your father is of no interest to me.” – he said, guiding you further away from his prying eyes. – “Then who is?” – you questioned. Nearing a wall.
When Finnick came standing in front of you, forcing you to fall back against the wall with his gesture. A gasp leaving your mouth as his fingers could brush your hair from how he had positioned his hand above your head. Slowly leaning in closer. – “Are you trustworthy, sugar?” – he formed. More of a question to himself than to you.
Nervously you swallowed, wanting to look away, but his gaze kept you locked in. His eyes going from your eyes to your lips and again. Battling for each micro expression of yours. Knowing you were out of sight for your father now. – “My father will honour his deal…” – you spoke unsure what he wanted.
“That is not what I asked.” – Finnick made clear that he requested something else from you. – “Then what…” – you begun words cut off by Finnick grabbing you by your chin. Staring intensely into your eyes. Trying to read your soul for it reflected in a person’s eyes.
“Odair!” – a stern gravelly voice called out. Finnick took a step back, letting go of you. Both his hands up in defence. – “I was merely getting to know her.” – he called back, casting you a wink. Blinking flustered at his gesture, you looked past him to the guard. – “I am alright. Mister Odair only helped me with my necklace.” – you lied with a pleasing smile.
A smile you had fooled your father with many times. The guard grunted deep, giving Finnick a poke in the side with his stick. Forcing him away from you. Finnick obeyed, looking over his shoulder back at you with a smirk. Another guard guided you back into the open. There you came sitting down on one of the steps. Watching some of the victors practise.
“Must be hard for you.” – a new voice settling on your attention. Looking up, the boy from district 12 was standing in front of you. He curled up a shy smile unsure of the invitation. You motioned with your head to the side that it was alright. Peeta came sitting beside you, elbows resting on his knees. – “I’m sorry this is forced upon you.” – he spoke, looking in front of him. – “It’s not your doing.” – you responded. – “Nor yours I reckon.” – was his response.
Making both of you catch a glimpse of each other. Forming a smile. Chuckling nervously, Peeta and you looked back away. – “My father has his motives.” – you formed after some silence. Rubbing your hands nervously between your knees. – “With no regards to his daughter?” – Peeta answered with a quizzable brow.
It made you pull your shoulders up. – “I just hope this union, might do something good for me.” – you dared to speak. Unsure how, but being around Peeta felt comforting and save. Peeta turned his posture more towards you. Intrigued. Exhaling soft, you batted your gaze up to the ceiling. – “It might free me from the capitol’s masquerade.” – lowering your gaze, it felt like a distant dream.
“All my life everything has been told for me. All I needed to do was in order of my father. I never had a voice of my own… I still don’t…” – you continued trying hard to keep any tears at bay. To change the ache in your heart, you laughed the silliness away. – “I’m not sure I would even be a benefit to anyone here.”
Peeta’s hand covered yours up that was on your knee. – “Don’t settle yourself so low.” – his words comforting and warm. Lifting your head up, you met up with his gaze. Seeing how warmly he smiled your way. It made you smile back. It might not be real, but that was okay. In this moment, you felt cherished.
The loud blowing of a whistle, made you snap out of it. All the victors were requested to leave and return to their quarters. Peeta got up, hesitating to follow the others. – “Will you be okay?” – he asked with concern. Humming loud with a nod, you reassured him. Peeta curled up a saddened smile before joining the others.
From the gathering crowd, you noticed Gloss. Blowing you a kiss from afar. Catching Finnick shake his head with a roll of his eye behind him. Mimicking Gloss by making him look stupid and blunt. Making you laugh from afar. From your reaction he bowed with a charming smile before disappearing.
Silence filled the training room as you were left alone. Gaze going upwards to the window where he still stood watching. His stern gaze made your smile drop. Two guards approaching you to escort you. With his piercing gaze on your back, you left through another set of doors. Unsure what your father had in mind, for it was always about him. To be continued.
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