I : A Dance of Shadows -> II : Whisper of Deceit -> III : A Symphony of Heartbreak ->IV : Fractured Reflections -> V : Shadows of Allegiance -> VI : Echoes of Decent
Series Masterlist
Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader
Warnings : Arranged marriage, HEAVY ANGST, unrequited love, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers
Reader's surname : Flare
Time frame: Before, during and after tbosbas
Synopsis : In the events of Panem's political dynamics and the 10th annual Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow and her find themselves entwined. Standing at the brink of an enforced union, 6 years later, their mutual trust unravels amidst a damaging misinterpretation, prompting Coriolanus to believe the wrong. As the glacial barriers guarding his emotions begin to melt, a revelation of profound feelings unfolds, initiating a sprint against time for redemption.
The grand ballroom of the Capitol glittered with opulence, a testament to the excesses of power and control. She, who was adorned in a gown of muted elegance, stood beside Coriolanus Snow, a man whose eyes reflected the iciness of the society that had moulded him.
The festivities, a celebration of their union, felt like a masquerade of emotions, each step a painful reminder of a love lost.
The dance floor beneath them, once a stage for shared dreams, now echoed with the hollow sounds of a fractured connection. Coriolanus, draped in indifference, turned to her with a gaze colder than the winter winds that swept through the Capitol.
"Do remember that our union is a political necessity, not a playground for your emotions." His words, sharp as a blade, cut through the remnants of her optimism, leaving wounds that bled with the anguish of unfulfilled promises.
"Coriolanus, please," she implored, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken pain.
"Can't we find a way back to what we were?"
A scoff escaped his lips, a venomous edge to his tone.
"What we were is inconsequential. The Capitol demands sacrifices, and sentimentality is the first to go."
The cruelty in his words struck her like a physical blow. She felt a chasm widening between them, a chasm fueled by the Capitol's relentless demands and his willingness to succumb to its frigid embrace.
As the night wore on, the symphony of forced smiles and hollow conversations played on, but in the private moments between the grandeur, she attempted to breach the fortress of Snow's indifference.
“Can't you see that we're sacrificing more than just sentimentality?"
Her voice carried the echoes of a heart desperate to be heard, a heart that still clung to the fragments of a love that once defied the Capitol's constraints.
He turned to her, a sneer playing on his lips. "Love is a weakness, Flare."
The words, like acid, burned through her defences. He calls her by her last name, refusing to call by his.
The balcony, once a refuge for shared dreams, now became the stage for the unraveling of her heart. Tears welled up in her eyes, the anguish of his callousness too much to bear.
"Why are you doing this, Coriolanus?" Her plea hung in the air, desperate for an answer that could stitch together the tattered remains of their connection.
He met her gaze with a steely resolve. “Don't be foolish to ask that question again and again. You know why.”
His indifference, a fortress that seemed impenetrable, shattered the last vestiges of her hope. The balcony, witness to the tender moments of their past, now bore witness to the agonizing dissolution of their bond.
"You're heartless, Coriolanus."
His laughter, cold and devoid of empathy, echoed through the balcony.
"Your sentiments won't change our reality. Accept it or suffer the consequences."
The finality in his words landed like a crushing blow. A love that had once defied the Capitol's chains now lay broken and discarded. The dance through time, a once graceful movement, had devolved into a painful and discordant rhythm, echoing the hollowness of their loveless marriage.
As the grand celebration continued below, she retreated into the shadows of her pain. The ballroom, aglow with the Capitol's decadence, became a theater for the tragic unraveling of their connection.
The night was far from over. The masquerade of their union continued, a relentless dance that forced them to confront the haunting melodies of a loveless marriage. Each step on the dance floor mirrored the jagged edges of their fractured connection.
She was a prisoner of her emotions, sought solace in the shadows. The whispers of the past intertwined with the discordant notes of the present, creating a symphony of heartbreak that reverberated through the ballroom.
Coriolanus, detached and composed, navigated the dance with the finesse of a puppeteer pulling the strings. His eyes, devoid of warmth, scanned the room with the calculated precision of a man who had embraced the callousness demanded by the Capitol.
In the quiet interludes between the grand movements, she attempted one more plea, a desperate hope that some shred of humanity remained within the man who had once been her confidant.
"Coriolanus, can't you see what this is doing to us? We're sacrificing more than just love; we're sacrificing our very souls."
He turned to her, his gaze an icy dagger that pierced through her vulnerability.
"Souls are a small price to pay for power. I suggest you learn to accept it."
The words, a proclamation of the Capitol's ruthless influence, left her breathless. She felt the weight of their union pressing down on her, a heavy burden that threatened to suffocate any lingering traces of hope.
As the grand celebration reached its climax, the dance through time descended into a chaotic frenzy of emotions. The ballroom, once a space of decadent revelry, now became a battleground for the remnants of their connection.
Coriolanus, unmoved by the turmoil within her, continued the dance with an air of indifference. The discordant notes of their fractured love played on, drowning out the music of the Capitol's triumphant fanfare.
In the dimly lit corners of the ballroom, her tears went unnoticed. The pain, too private to be displayed in the spotlight of the Capitol's scrutiny, carved deep trenches in her soul.
As the night drew to a close, she, a mere shadow of the woman she once was, found herself standing alone on the balcony. The Capitol, with its glittering facade, seemed worlds away from the desolation within her heart.
Coriolanus, his duty to the Capitol fulfilled, approached her with the calculated demeanor of a man who had shed the vestiges of sentimentality.
“Whatever it is we had it the past, don’t ever look for it, it won’t ever come back.”
His words, devoid of any flicker of remorse, echoed through the empty spaces of her heart. The dance through time had reached its bitter end, leaving behind the fragments of a connection that had crumbled under the weight of the Capitol's expectations.
With a final glance, Coriolanus Snow, now a stranger draped in the trappings of power, left the balcony, leaving her alone with the haunting melodies of a love extinguished. The Capitol's grandeur faded into the night, and she, standing on the balcony, felt the chill of isolation in the air.
As the Capitol slept, shrouded in the deceptive allure of power, she remained on the balcony, grappling with the ruins of her heart. The night, once a canvas for shared dreams, now stretched before her as an endless expanse of emptiness.
In the aftermath of the celebration, the opulent ballroom now lay silent, a stark contrast to the tumult within herself. The masquerade of their union had unveiled the harsh truth — she was entwined in a loveless marriage, a puppet in the Capitol's grand theater.
Alone in the sprawling bedroom, she found herself on the sofa, a cold and unwelcome piece of furniture that mirrored the frigid atmosphere that had settled between her and Coriolanus Snow. The grand bed, adorned with lavish silks and plush pillows, stood untouched, a stark reminder of the chasm that had grown between them.
Her wedding gown, once a symbol of celebration, now felt like a heavy shroud, constricting her movements as she navigated the unfamiliar space. Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting an ethereal glow on the elaborate patterns of the carpet, each thread whispering tales of a union strained by the weight of Capitol expectations.
As she stepped into the bathroom, the opulence of Capitol excess confronted her. The glass-encased shower stood like a transparent witness to her vulnerability. She turned on the water, hoping its cascade would wash away the residue of the day's trials.
The door swung open, and Coriolanus Snow entered with a casual nonchalance.
His eyes, indifferent to her modesty, met hers in the reflection of the gleaming mirror. The involuntary shriek that escaped her lips was met with nothing more than an eye roll from him. He faced the mirror, a razor in hand, seemingly oblivious to the invasion of her privacy.
“Excuse me ? Do you mind giving me a bit of privacy ?” she protested, the words barely audible over the rush of water.
Coriolanus, razor against his jaw, spared her a fleeting glance, his response as cutting as the blade against his skin.
"You know, Flare, the Capitol may find your attempts at modesty amusing. But let's be clear, you're not even interesting to look at, even when you're trying."
In haste, she sheathed her body in a robe, a thin shield against the rawness of his indifference. The scent of expensive bath oils mingled with the palpable tension, creating an atmosphere that underscored the compromises demanded by the Capitol's opulent facade.
As the echoes of his cruel words reverberated in the room, she chose silence.
The night, meant to be a culmination of shared dreams and whispered promises, had transformed into a haunting symphony of solitude. The echoes of distant laughter from the Capitol's revelry reached her ears, a stark contrast to the silence within the grand room.
She gazed at the grand bed, its expanse an unspoken testament to the distance between her and the man she had once called a friend.
"You're sleeping at the Sofa" he hissed
As she settled onto the sofa, the cushions felt cold and unforgiving.
She gazed at the grand bed, its expanse an unspoken testament to the distance between her and the man she had once called a friend.
The refusal to share a bed, a symbolic rejection that echoed through the silence, carved a deep wound in her heart.
Tears welled in her eyes as she replayed the events of the wedding night—the vows exchanged without sincerity, the applause that masked the absence of genuine joy, and now, the solitude that defined her first night as Coriolanus Snow's wife.
The sofa offered little comfort, its unyielding surface a reflection of the emotional distance that had grown between them. She slept alone on the sofa, the grand bed bearing witness to the ache of a connection lost.
The first light of dawn painted the Capitol in hues of gold, but for her, it offered no warmth. The reality of her situation loomed larger than the grand structures that adorned the city. She descended from the balcony, her steps heavy with the weight of unshed tears.
Days turned into weeks, and the semblance of a life continued. The Capitol, indifferent to the personal tragedies within its glittering facade, carried on with its relentless demands. She, who was once a beacon of creativity, moved through the motions with a hollow gaze.
Coriolanus Snow, now consumed by the machinations of power, remained a distant figure in her life. The corridors of their grand residence echoed with a profound silence, a testament to the emotional chasm that separated them.
One evening, as the Capitol bathed in the twilight glow, she found herself in the Academy library, a place that once witnessed the blossoming of their connection. The shelves, lined with volumes of forgotten dreams, stood as silent witnesses to the passage of time.
In the quiet solitude of the library, Her fingers traced the spines of familiar books. Memories flooded back — shared laughter, whispered dreams, and the unspoken bond that had defined their youth. She closed her eyes, attempting to capture the fragments of a time when love still flourished.
Weeks turned into months, and the grand wedding, a distant memory, held no solace for her. The corridors of their residence, once filled with shared laughter, now echoed with the hollowness of a connection irreversibly fractured.
As the Capitol skyline glowed with artificial brilliance, she stood on the balcony, a silhouette against the backdrop of a city that demanded everything but love. The echoes of their past laughter lingered, mingling with the distant hum of Capitol life.
Coriolanus Snow approached, his gaze fixed on the sprawling expanse below. The balcony, once witness to their private moments, now served as a stage for the remnants of a connection that refused to be forgotten.
"The Capitol's demands grow more strict, could you stop acting all sad, asking attention from the public ? It’s pathetic, we must play our parts better, give the Capitol what they want so-” he remarked, his voice a detached melody that echoed through the night.
“So you can get more power ?” She scoffed
“What more do you want from the people now that you’re President ?”
A bitter smile played on her lips. "Our parts, Coriolanus, are nothing more than roles in a tragic play. The Capitol demands perfection, but it has no regard for the cost."
His gaze, cold and unyielding, met hers. "Cost is not important when compared to the splendour of power. You knew the rules when you entered this dance, Flare."
The balcony, bathed in the soft glow of Capitol lights, became the theater for a final act. She was weary and disillusioned then locking eyes with Coriolanus Snow — a man she once loved, now a stranger draped in the trappings of power.
"Coriolanus, I once believed in a world beyond the Capitol's expectations. But we are prisoners, dancing to a tune composed by a heartless regime."
His laughter, devoid of warmth, cut through the night. "Prisoners, perhaps, but also architects of our destiny. Embrace the role, or be swept away by the currents of irrelevance."
The question hung in the air, a heavy cloud of unspoken tension settling over the room. Her voice, though calm, carried a subtle edge as she uttered words that dared to touch the forbidden.
"Would it be different if she was the one to marry you?"
Coriolanus Snow, his features frozen in an icy mask, felt the room temperature drop several degrees. The mere mention of Lucy Gray Baird, the elusive victor of the 10th Annual Hunger Games, was like a sharp dagger thrust into the depths of his guarded emotions.
His eyes, usually cool and composed, flared with a sudden anger that he struggled to conceal.
"You dare bring her up?" The words hissed through clenched teeth, each syllable dripping with a venomous disdain that seemed to materialize from the depths of his resentment.
Though she was well aware of the sensitivity of the topic, pressed on with a quiet determination. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in as the weight of unspoken histories loomed.
"She's the one you cheated the Games for, isn't she? The girl you loved and then conveniently let disappear,"
she continued, her voice unwavering despite the storm brewing in his gaze.
A cruel laugh escaped him, devoid of any genuine mirth.
"You think you know anything about her? About us?"
The tension crackled in the air as he paced, the room feeling suddenly too confined. His anger, a turbulent undercurrent, sought an outlet in biting words.
"Let me make something clear, Flare. Lucy Gray was never meant for someone like you to understand. She was extraordinary, and you…"
He paused, his gaze sweeping over her form with a disdain that cut through the air.
"You're just a pale imitation, desperately clinging to a reality you can't grasp."
Though wounded by his words, she refused to back down.
"And yet, you married me. So, why don't you tell me, Snow ? Would it be different if she was the one standing here in this lavish room, wearing this elaborate dress, playing the part I am assigned ? "
His eyes, stormy and unforgiving, locked onto hers.
"Maybe she would have had the decency not to bring up the past to throw your own indiscretions in your face."
The words hung in the air, an unspoken challenge between them. The room, once a sanctuary, now bore witness to the unraveling of a carefully constructed facade, revealing the cracks beneath the surface of their strained union.
Undeterred by the venom in his words, Seraphina met Snow's stormy gaze with unwavering determination. She fought back, her voice cutting through the charged atmosphere.
"If Lucy Gray was so extraordinary, then why is she not here ? If she really loved you, wouldn't she have stayed ? Or maybe, she vanished because she realized what a heartless, cold creature she had involved herself with."
Her words, a counterattack fueled by the fire of her own pain, struck at the heart of his defenses. Snow's stoic facade wavered for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability surfacing in his icy eyes.
"You want to believe in a love that never wavered, but you're deluding yourself. Lucy Gray saw through you, just as I do now," she declared, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.
The room felt like a battlefield of emotions, each word exchanged a weapon aimed at the other's vulnerabilities. Seraphina pressed on, refusing to let his harsh words break her spirit.
"And here we are, in this grandiose room, in this sham of a marriage. You can't escape the fact that I am your wife, Coriolanus, and no matter how much you resent it, I'm not going to disappear like Lucy Gray."
A bitter smile played on her lips, a mix of defiance and resignation. The Capitol lights outside seemed to dim in comparison to the intensity of their verbal clash. The echoes of their unraveling union reverberated in the silence that followed.
The room, once a symbol of their forced unity, now stood witness to the fractures that no extravagant facade could conceal. She turned away from the balcony, leaving Snow to grapple with the lingering echoes of her words and the stark reality of their entangled fates.
I : A Dance of Shadows -> II : Whisper of Deceit -> III : A Symphony of Heartbreak -> IV : Fractured Reflections -> V : Shadows of allegiance -> VI : Echoes of Descent
Series Masterlist
Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader
warnings: Arranged marriage, HEAVY ANGST, unrequited love, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers
Reader's surname : Flare
Time frame: Before, during and after tbosbas
Synopsis: In the events of Panem's political dynamics and the 10th annual Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow and her find themselves entwined. Standing at the brink of an enforced union, 6 years later, their mutual trust unravels amidst a damaging misinterpretation, prompting Coriolanus to believe the wrong. As the glacial barriers guarding his emotions begin to melt, a revelation of profound feelings unfolds, initiating a sprint against time for redemption.
The grand dining hall played host to an elaborate dinner. The Flare family, adorned in Capitol splendor, joined the President of Panem and the first lady at the expansive table, a picture of power and privilege.
Amidst the clinking of fine plates and the soft hum of subdued conversation, Snow's gaze flickered across the table, a calculated assessment of the political alliances forged through familial ties.
The weight of expectation lingered in the air, a silent reminder that transcended the ornate surroundings.
"Coriolanus," His mother in law's voice, a delicate note in the symphony of Capitol conversations, interrupted his silent contemplation.
"Have you considered the importance of ensuring the continuity of your legacy?"
The subtle shift in conversation drew the attention of his wife, when she widened her eyes
"Indeed,the Capitol demands stability, and an offspring is a symbol of the preservation of our ideals." He answered
The ensuing conversation, laden with unspoken tension, unfolded like a choreographed dance of political discourse.
"Coriolanus, a grandchild would be the embodiment of our shared commitment to Panem's prosperity," Mr. Flare asserted, his words carrying the weight of familial expectations.
Snow, the embodiment of Capitol ideals, maintained a composed facade, his responses a careful navigation of the intricate web of political alliances.
"I understand the significance of the matter, and believe me, the continuation of our legacy is a priority." He smiled assuringly
The exchange of pleasantries and the strategic alliances formed in the dining hall masked the underlying tensions that festered beneath the surface.
As the night wore on, Snow and herself found themselves alone on the balcony once again, a sanctuary from the prying eyes of familial expectations.
The gilded stars overhead bore witness to a conversation that would shape the trajectory of their union.
"Coriolanus," she began, her voice a whisper against the backdrop of Capitol revelry,
"There's more to our lives than political alliances and familial expectations. I can't help but feel that we're drowning in a sea of obligations."
Snow, ever the stoic embodiment of Capitol authority, regarded her with a gaze that betrayed a flicker of vulnerability.
"Do you mean the baby ?"
"Look, our roles demand sacrifices. We must bear the weight of expectation" He continued
"But at what cost?" Her words hung in the air, a question that echoed through the hallowed halls of power.
"A child should not be a pawn in this elaborate game. Their existence should be more than a strategic move-"
"what I'm trying to say is that I don't want to have a child when his or her parents don't even love each other"
Snow responded with a controlled conviction.
"Our duty to Panem go beyond personal desires. Sacrifices are permanently needed in positions of power, and an heir ensures the continuation of our legacy."
The balcony, a stage for a silent confrontation of ideologies, bore witness to a struggle that transcended the grandeur of Capitol expectations. The first lady, torn between duty and personal convictions, sought a connection that defied the political facades.
"Coriolanus, is our marriage just a performance ? Are we condemned to a life of obligations, lacking of genuine connection?" Her words, a plea for authenticity, hung in the air.
Snow, grappling with the echoes of her doubts, responded with a tone that held no room for compromise.
"Our union is a symbol of stability, and personal sentiments must not jeopardize the balance we've established."
The night, draped in the shimmering tapestry of Capitol extravagance, witnessed a moment of profound discord within their shared existence. The balcony, a silent witness to the complexities of their union, stood as a testament to the sacrifices demanded by power.
The question hung in the air, loaded with the weight of unspoken expectations and conflicting desires.
“So, you want to have the baby?”
“I don’t want to. Not with you- but I must” his response carried a solemn gravity, his gaze directed downward, as if seeking refuge in the cold embrace of the balcony railing, an obstinate refusal to confront her.
Speech evaded her in that moment. His words, though not unexpected, bore the weight of an inevitability she had chosen to accept.
This was the determined path of her existence, a life shaped by the ideology of Capitol politics.
Her heart hissed with an indescribable ache, but she scoffed
“You must ?"
"You’re not the one carrying the weight of a life within you for nine months. I have a right to a say in this, and I say no.”
Her retort, though measured, bore the invincible spirit of resistance. The air crackled with the tension of opposing wills.
With that defiance lingering, she withdrew from the balcony, leaving behind an air heavy with unspoken grievances. The lingering echoes of their unresolved conflict reverberated through the night, painting the silence with the brushstrokes of discontent.
Days turned into weeks, and the looming specter of the 16th Hunger Games approached.
The Capitol, with its insatiable appetite for spectacle, prepared for another iteration of the gruesome tradition. Amidst the preparations, she found herself entangled in an afternoon tea party with the wives of powerful men, an event that would unveil a secret world of Capitol vices.
The air in the lavish tea room was filled with the delicate fragrance of brewed chamomile, and the soft clinking of porcelain echoed through the opulent space.
The First Lady, adorned in Capitol elegance, gracefully mingled with the wives of powerful men, each of them putting on a facade of refinement. She smiled, greeting them
“Ladies, isn't the selection of teas exquisite today?”
Mrs Creed, the wife of Mr Creed who was considered old capitol money as he made his fortune mostly from Timber within district 7 answered her
“absolutely dear, they Capitol always knows how to indulge our senses.
Another wife of a powerful man, Mrs Heavensbee, who is married to Mr Heavensbee, who helped funding the reconstruction of Heavensbee Hall chimed to the first lady
"Indeed. It's a break from the usual hustle."
Mrs Crane, a distant relative of the late Arachne Crane and the wife of a senior game maker confided in a hushed tone,
"You know, ladies, I've found the most thrilling way to make our privileged lives less boring."
The first lady smirked under her breath, intrigued she answered
"Oh? Do share, Mrs. Crane"
Mrs Crane leaned in and whispered
"My Husband and I have been selling information about this year's Hunger Games to the districts. It's quite the profitable business, I must say."
A collective gasp swept through the tea room, but Mrs Snow, a master at masking her true emotions, maintained her composure. The revelation hung in the air, a breach of Capitol decorum that threatened to shatter their carefully crafted illusions.
"Mrs Crane, you can't be serious!" Mrs Creed said
Mrs Heavensbee whispered to the ear of the first lady
"Did you hear that? Selling information about the Games?"
With her purposely shocked feigning shocked expression, Mrs Snow replied to the woman who had just revealed her secret
"My, this is quite unexpected. Mrs. Crane, are you aware of the consequences of such... actions ?"
Mrs. Crane smirked and gently touched Mrs. Snow's hand, "Oh, my dear, power isn't just about what you have; it's about what you know. And I know quite a bit." Yet, she felt uncomfortable with the contact.
"And you won't tell your dear husband about this, will you? Seeing that it's only a marriage of convenience as well. He doesn't love you, does he?"
The words hung in the air as a collective gasp swept through the room, and even Mrs Snow couldn't conceal her shock when Mrs. Crane uttered those offensive words.
The atmosphere shifted, and a fiery rage ignited within her, a desire to retaliate against the venomous insinuations.
The tension in the room thickened as the wives grappled with the implications of Mrs. Crane's revelation. The First Lady, however, saw this as an opportunity to play a dangerous game of her own.
She maintained a composed facade despite the storm of emotions within, responded to Mrs. Crane with a subtle smile that masked her inner turmoil.
"Oh, Mrs. Crane, your insights are truly intriguing," she remarked, her voice carrying a calculated charm.
"But you see, secrets are like delicate flowers. They bloom in the shadows, and revealing them too soon might wither their beauty."
As Mrs. Crane smirked, believing she had the upper hand, the first lady continued her deceptive play.
"As for my husband, it's good to let curiosity stay alive, don't you think? I wouldn't want to end the interest too soon. After all, a convenient marriage can be interesting too."
The words were carefully chosen, each sentence a thread in the intricate tapestry of her deception. While Mrs. Crane reveled in what she perceived as victory, the first lady harbored a secret plan to disclose the truth to Coriolanus Snow at a more opportune moment despite their rocky relationship.
The tea party, once an arena of veiled conversations, transformed into a battleground of strategic maneuvers, and she played her part with a masterful finesse.
The ambiance in the grand study of the Presidential Mansion was steeped in the warm glow of late evening. As Coriolanus Snow occupied himself with the affairs of the Capitol, she made a determined entrance, her eyes ablaze with an intensity that demanded attention.
"Coriolanus, we need to talk," she declared, her voice cutting through the otherwise still air.
Looking up from his desk, Snow responded with a dismissive air,
"What could be so important?"
Her gaze bore into him, a storm brewing within her. "Mrs. Crane revealed something today, something that affects us."
Raising an eyebrow in skepticism, Snow retorted,
"Mrs. Crane? What nonsense are you talking about?"
With a sharp tone, she revealed
"Tea parties aren't just for pleasantries. Secrets spill in the presence of satisfaction."
Unconvinced, Snow urged her to get to the point. A cunning smile played on her lips as she disclosed
"She and her husband have been selling information about the Hunger Games to the districts."
"Why would they do that?" Snow questioned, his disbelief evident.
"Power, influence, money," she replied, the coldness in her tone underscoring the gravity of the situation.
"Capitol vices that run deeper than we imagine."
Brushing it off, He asked, "And how does it affect us?"
A flash of fury crossed her features.
"She questioned our marriage, Coriolanus. Doubted your love for me."
Snow, in a dismissive laugh, attributed it to jealousy. However, she remained resolute.
"That's not the point. We need to address this."
Sarcastically, Snow queried, "What do you suggest?"
A cunning smile returned to her face.
"Expose them, let the Capitol see that even in our so-called convenient marriage, we are a force to be reckoned with."
she paced around the room, then continued
"You need to get someone to dig more into this, If i may, I will modify the game, I have a few ideas in mind and never have I thought in my whole life I'd say this, nor do I want to, but they must be eliminated"
The gravity of her words hung in the air, creating an unsettling atmosphere. Snow, while accustomed to manipulation and power plays, felt a momentary shock at the transformation in her.
Her determination to take control and eliminate threats mirrored a darkness that echoed his own. In that moment, a chilling realization dawned on him — he didn’t want her to descend into the depths of cruelty as he had.
The intricate dance of power within their relationship took an unexpected turn, leaving Snow to grapple with the weight of the monster he might have inadvertently influenced.
2. Prevent from requesting NSFW fics, I do not write them (yet) :)
3. I do not tolerate any request that contains any form of racism, homophobic, incest/stepcest, pedophilia or sexual assault.
4. I only do fics with m! character x fem! character / reader ! (Not that I'm homophobic or anything, just find it really hard to imagine what it'll be like and to find a unique story line from others hehe, I hope you understand and don't take this the wrong way)
I think that's pretty much it, feel free to request anything but be sure to follow these rules, keep your requests coming, I'm really excited to write them all <3 !!
