Chapter Text
Hunger.
It was a fickle thing that he detested. It reminded him of how empty their fridge was, of how far from grace the Snow family had fallen after the passing of his father. Most, if not all, of his classmate's families had recovered smoothly from the war. Some had even begun rebuilding, hiring back servants, and flaunting their wealth in the streets. He could feel the cabbage soup and posca swirling around in his stomach. Enough to keep his hunger from being known by those around him. If anyone, anyone at all, were to discover how truly poor the Snows were, he'd be disgraced. The family name would be ruined, and any allies he'd made during his years in the Academy would vanish.
He tried not to think about it as Clemensia Dovecote and Sejanus Plinth settled down on either side of him. Afterward, there'd be a buffet filled with enough food to keep his hunger at bay until the Plinth Prize was finally in his hands. He could attempt sneaking some back home for Tigris or Grandma'am but there were too many keen eyes around.
"Listen," Coryo spared Sejanus a glance when the brunette spoke. "I know you have high hopes for this... but there is no prize today. Not anymore. I'm so sorry."
Every thought, every hope shimmering around in his head and body halted, frozen in time as he processed Sejanus's apologetic and borderline sympathetic words. No Plinth Prize?
No Plinth Prize?
He'd been relying on the prize since the day he'd heard about it. His grades, all those tiresome nights he spent ensuring his assignments were done perfectly, all that time sucking up to teachers and dealing with Dean Highbottom. A waste. A complete and utter waste if he couldn't get that prize. It'd have to have been Dean Highbottom, that man despised him for no particular reason. Unless he'd heard about the High-as-a-Kite-Bottom nickname Coryo had given him.
A startling giggle echoed throughout the room, effectively silencing the students and staff present. Coryo forced his eyes away from Sejanus's face and onto Dr. Volumnia Gaul, Head Gamemaker for the Hunger Games. Just looking at her then, standing on the podium with that large overly pleased smile on her face, sent a shiver down his spine. The memory of her melting the flesh off a rat with a laser for a school field trip had been ingrained into his brain. There was discomfort in everyone around him, rumps planted firmly in their seats and bodies refusing to move an inch lest they wanted her attention.
"How tantalizing it is to see all your shining young faces on this auspicious day. I am Dr. Volumnia Gaul, your humble Gamemaker in charge of the War Department and all its affiliated concerns." Dr. Gaul bent forward slightly, her different-colored eyes wide and crazed despite the playful smile on her face. "I've broken free of my laboratory today, to examine you, the leaders of the next generation. I won't be around forever after all. And now, I'm honored to introduce to you the creator of the Hunger Games themselves, Dean Casca Highbottom."
Coryo hadn't needed to turn to know Dean Highbottom would likely be inhaling some morphling, as he always did nearly every day. The older man coughed awkwardly and Coryo heard the sound of students and staff turning in their seats to face him. "Select students, faculty, and of course, Dr. Gaul." He shoved his hands into his pockets and began his descent down the aisle toward the front of the room. The morphling would take effect soon and he'd make a fool of himself no doubt. "I have summoned you all here today for the 10th Annual Reaping Ceremony, in which we chose two children from each district to throw into the Capitol arena to fight to the death in the Hunger Games."
"I can't believe they still allow him to speak in public," Clemensia scoffed quietly beside him.
"And here seated, my own 24 top prospects. All waiting to hear the results of your hard studies in this prestigious institution. Eager to learn who won that Plinth Prize, no doubt, and a golden future. However, I am here to tell you that there has been a change this year: one final assignment to prove your worth. Because esteemed citizens of the Capitol have grown bored of the Games and simply aren't watching anymore. And if the games are to continue at all, there must be an audience. So, Head Gamemaker Dr. Gaul has stepped in to... incentivize patriotic values with her own unique flair, starting with you." Dean Highbottom paused for a moment to look over his students.
It hadn't been his idea. Coryo released a quiet sigh of relief. He still had a chance at winning that prize. He could restore the family name to its former greatness. Rent would be paid, servants would be hired, the penthouse would be built back to its true glory, Tigris and Grandma'am would have everything they could ever wish for. And everyone would know future president Coriolanus Snow of Panem.
"The Plinth Prize will no longer be determined by who has the best grades and instead by who is the best mentor in the Hunger Games." Murmurs erupted through the crowd, a mixture of anger and curiosity. Coryo could hardly imagine himself mentoring someone from the districts. He could only hope he got a good tribute, someone strong and brutal enough to take out the competition. Districts 1 and 2 were his best chances, but 11 and 4 were strong contenders as well. "This is a brand new role. As the reaping progresses live, I will appoint each district tribute a Capitol mentor behind the scenes, one who must just persuade them to perform for the cameras."
"Obviously the best mentor will be the one whose tribute wins the games." Festus Creed spoke.
Arachne Crane piped in next, her irritating voice tittering on disgust and despair. "What if I get a pathetic runt girl from one of the poor districts like 8 or 12? They're just going to die in two minutes like they did last year and the year before." It'd be poetic justice, Coryo thought.
"Your role is to turn these children into spectacles, Miss Crane, not survivors. Victory in the Games is only one of the considerations. Your entire future rests in this one project. Oh, and I must tell you, cheating or giving the tributes an unfair advantage... Oh, well, you'll just have no future at all." The abrupt sound of the Reaping Ceremony recordings echoing from the screens sent Dean Highbottom speeding over to wedge himself between Arachne and Sejanus, forcing them to move their legs aside to make room for him.
"District 1 boy goes to... Livia Cardew." Of course, the Academy couldn't afford to anger the Cardews when they ran the largest bank in the Capitol. Any hope of receiving someone from one of the better districts began to dwindle when District 2 went to Sejanus and Florus Friend whilst District 3 went to Io Jasper and Urban Canville.
"You got the pick of the litter," Coryo murmured to Sejanus when he noticed the distant, almost dejected look on his face. Sejanus stared straight ahead, the clenching of his jaw not going unnoticed by Coryo.
"You forget," Sejanus swallowed thickly. his voice tight with barely contained emotions. "I'm a part of that litter."
Even with enough riches to last twenty generations sitting at his fingertips, even with the privileged life Coryo deserved sitting perfectly on his lap, Sejanus still considered himself a district citizen. Money, time, and influence wasted on a boy who didn't deserve it, who didn't want it. It should've been the Snow Prize over the Plinth Prize. The Snows should've been in their spot. They should've been the family everyone tripped over themselves to please. Coryo's hands curled into fists against his legs and he looked ahead to not let his resentment show.
"District 4. The boy..." Dean Highbottom paused briefly, a grimace passing over his features. "Coriolanus Snow."
Coryo's eyes shot up to the small screen showcasing the boys of each district. The mayor appeared first, stuffing his hand into the bowl and swirling it around the strips of paper until he finally selected one and pulled his hand out. He adjusted his glasses and brought the paper close to his face, squinting so hard Coryo wondered why he even had glasses in the first place. The mayor clumsily grabbed the microphone and leaned forward, taking another glance at the paper before loudly clearing his throat and reading out:
"Triton Odair."
The camera remained still for a moment, focused on the mayor until it abruptly moved to focus on movement on the crowd formed around the children. An older man had fallen to his knees, his face buried in his hands as his body shook and trembled. A woman with what appeared to be a heavily swollen, pregnant belly and a young child who Coryo assumed to be their daughter attempted to console him, surprisingly drawing sympathetic murmurs from the classmates around him.
The camera moved around again when there was finally movement from the group of boys and focused on the one heading down the space separating the girls and boys. Through the grainy recording, Coryo could make out a head of blonde hair that was nearing a bronze color. His boy wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and rusty brown pants with suspenders hanging and swinging from them. Triton headed up the stairs and onto the stage, sharing a nod with the pitiful mayor before he turned to face the crowd and camera, bringing one tanned hand up to his face and combing back his wavy locks.
He was beautiful.
His skin was sunkissed, a beautiful shade of light brown from days out in the sun no doubt. His hair was slightly longer in the front with gentle waves trailing down to his cheeks when he moved his hand from his locks. A strong jawline that Coryo could hear the girls behind him whispering about and full lips. A natural beauty, no cosmetics or adjustments needed. The desperate housewives, daughters, and even men of the Capitol would surely tune in just to see him. The only flaw Coryo could find were his dark brown eyes, but when he tilted his head up ever so slightly, the sunlight hit them directly and lightened the shade into an almost honey color. His gaze remained off to the side, likely observing the man who'd fallen at the sound of his name being called. Too young to be his father, too old to be his partner. A brother, perhaps? A cousin?
"Lucky you," Clemensia whispered to him. "You got a pretty boy. No one will be looking away from him."
Coryo felt a smile spread across his face. Snow lands on top.
∘⋆⋅✯⋅⋆∘
Persephone Price had been given the District 12 girl, a little songbird by the name of Lucy Gray Baird. She sang during the ceremony in 12 in her brightly colored attire and everyone's murmuring had turned from his boy to her. Natural beauty versus natural talent. A battle for the love of the Capitol. But when it came down to the Games themselves, Coryo knew the songbird would be shot down immediately. She was frail and skinny and had been easily struck down to the floor by the mayor after a little stunt with a snake. His boy had a chance at winning, a chance at coming out on top.
Tigris had been thrilled for him when he'd arrived home with the news, even with the threat of eviction looming over their heads if they didn't get the money quick enough. They'd stayed up throughout the early night, speaking and bouncing thoughts off each other. She'd told him to be gentle, to give a caring hand. Trust and respect had to be earned and common ground had to be found, that'd been her advice. But what could he possibly have in common with a district citizen?
Still, even with his doubts, he stood at the train station with a rose in hand, waiting for the train carrying the districts to arrive. They, like all tributes before them, would be sent to the stables where they'd have to wait and accept their incoming deaths. Coryo adjusted his baby blue collar and took in a deep breath as the screeching sound of the train stopping filled his ears.
He needed to make an impression. A good impression that'd make Triton want to work with him, that'd make him trust him. Of course, it'd be easier said than done, but Triton appeared reasonable enough on screen. He hadn't cried or looked angry or sad or hopeless. A good sign of someone who could keep their emotions in check. The District 7 girl had broken down into sobs and it'd only made his classmates laugh while her mentor had sunk deeper into his seat.
Coryo forced his legs to move and he angled his head to look at the cargo containers. The door to the first car slid open and a scrawny, dirty redhead hopped down from it, a girl he recognized as Triton's district partner. She'd been given to Festus Creed, poor girl. He'd be as useful as wet paper. The girl glowered at him for staring and was roughly pushed out of the way so 1 and 5 could climb out.
His boy appeared from the cargo next and Coryo quickly fixed his posture, straightening his spine and pushing his shoulders back just as Grandma'am had taught him back. Triton crouched down by the edge of the car and jumped down like Coral had before wiping his hands on his pants. He looked prettier up close- albeit more dirtier- and seemed around his age. Good. The people of the Capitol would surely fawn over him if he looked mature enough. Coryo couldn't help the envy that prickled his skin when he noticed how well-fed he looked. District 4 had the ocean at their feet. The Capitol was just a sea of concrete.
"Welcome to the Capitol." Coryo smiled politely and offered up the white rose when Triton turned in his direction. His eyes raked slowly over Coryo, starting with his light blonde curls, lingering on his red uniform, and stopping at his tight shoes. The tip of his lip curled up, whether it was mockingly or in amusement, Coryo couldn't quite tell. "I'm Coriolanus Snow."
"Coriolanus..." Triton sounded out the name and Coyro felt something stir inside of him. His voice sounded slightly hoarse, likely from lack of water during the train ride, and not as deep as Coryo had imagined. Still, there was a hint of an accent Coryo couldn't describe and a velvety, almost soothing sound to it. He seemed to purposefully speak low, something that helped with the soothing aspect of it. "And who are you, Coriolanus Snow? The welcoming committee?"
"No, I'm not." Coryo forced a chuckle. "I'm your mentor. I'm supposed to take care of you." Further down the line, a Peacekeeper threw a young girl from the last car, and before she could even gather her bearings, another forcibly pulled her up onto her feet while shouting instructions in her face. Coryo winced.
"If you say so, Coriolanus."
Coryo turned back to look at Triton, a reply on the tip of his tongue, but Triton had already been herded away by more Peacekeepers. His voice had held no real emotions, nothing that told Coryo he trusted him or even felt cared about. He sounded tired, at most, and Coryo couldn't blame him. The train cars reeked of musty, old cow smell and manure and some bats had even escaped from a few of the cars. All of the tributes appeared dirty in some way, with smudges of dirt and some hay sticking onto them from the ride alone. The Peacekeepers' treatment of the tributes only forced a larger bridge between him and Triton, and he needed to cross it before the bridge collapsed and the prize fell out of reach.
The Peacekeepers paid him no mind, not even bothering to look at him when he spoke to them. When it all seemed hopeless, one of the boys sprang away from the line and made a run for it, drawing the Peacekeepers away from the back of the steel truck. Coryo moved without thinking and climbed into the truck, squeezing his way past bemused tributes and planting himself at the back. Any second thoughts vanished when the doors slammed shut and the truck lurched forward, nearly sending him tumbling toward the wall.
When he gained his footing and balance, he turned around to face the tributes, finding them all staring at him with various emotions. Some looked curious, others confused, but most looked angry and hungry. His mind flashed back to Nero Price, the man who'd taken the leg off a corpse to eat during the days when food was scarce in the Capitol, and he felt his throat tighten up. They had nothing to lose, not with death just around the corner for all but one of them. His eyes found 12's songbird first and the girl stared back at him pitifully. He'd fallen so low even someone from 12 pitied him. Pathetic.
"What's the matter, pretty boy?" Clemensia's tribute, a bulky boy from District 11, asked mockingly. He could kill him with his bare hands and the thought made Coryo queasy. "You in the wrong cage?"
"No," Coryo answered, and against his better judgment, he added, "This cage is delightful."
11 lunged toward him and his muscular arms shoved Coryo back, pinning him roughly against the wall. Pain shot up his back and shoulders, the breath in his lungs escaping him by force. "I could kill you right now." He sneered, voice dripping in pure venom and hatred. Nobody moved to help him and Coryo could feel true panic beginning to set in.
"He'll do it too." The sickly girl said. "Reaper killed a Peacekeeper back in-"
"Quiet, Dill." The boy snapped, gently but harshly enough to silence her. Coryo's eyes flickered desperately between Reaper and his tribute, and after the fifth time they made eye contact, Triton rose from his seat with a heavy exhale. The boy who had tried to flee stood as well, but Triton placed his hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down.
"Nobody's killing anybody. Look at him and his clothes. Normal citizens don't wear that shade of red or that type of fabric, only fancy people do. You kill someone fancy and they'll shoot us down the minute those doors open. And what do you think they'll do next? They'll go back to our districts, they'll do another reaping, and more people will die. Hell, they might even pick from our families as punishment." His words hung thick in the air, and those who had been itching to spring up and attack Coryo reluctantly slumped back into their seats. Triton stood behind Reaper then. "Our families are already mourning us. They don't need more people to grieve."
Reaper turned his head to look at Triton over his shoulder, and the two silently stared at each other for a moment. Reaper's jaw clenched but he released his rough hold on Coryo, shooting him one last scathing glare before settling back down beside Dill. Coryo sighed quietly in relief. Triton had more uses than just being a pretty face, Coryo found some hope in that.
Triton tilted his head at him. "You said your job as my mentor was taking care of me. Yet, here we are, Coriolanus."
"What's a mender?"
"Mentor." Coryo corrected Coral, and her eyes narrowed in return.
Before he could explain the concept of mentors, a loud beeping came from above them signaling the truck was backing up. The tributes began shouting in panic and confusion as the cage began to tilt at an angle, prompting Coryo to grab onto a strap hanging from the wall and reach out to wrap an arm around Triton to prevent him from sliding back along with the other tributes. The doors suddenly swung open and the tributes tumbled out, their panicked shouts turning into pained groans as they landed on rocks and each other. The truck shook again and Coryo's hand slipped from the strap, forcing him and Triton to go rolling down the truck and slamming into the rocks below.
"Oh, God." Coryo wheezed, a blanket of pain covering his body. He carefully staggered onto his feet and took in a big gulp of air, only having a second to collect himself before Lucky Flickerman's joyous voice reached his ears and he froze. His head slowly lifted and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, all the air he'd taken in being sucked right back out of his lungs. Not only had he and the other tributes been dumped into the zoo, but there were citizens all around the bars, many of whom would recognize him, standing and watching in awe and disgust.
Lucky spotted him immediately and pointed him out to the cameras, to all the people watching. They were live for all of Panem to see him at his worst with his uniform dirty and his hair far from its usual pristine condition. And surrounded by filthy districts. His image crumbled right before his eyes. He'd be the laughingstock of Reaping Day until the Hunger Games died out, the pictures and videos replaying for everyone to see, for everyone to remember. Someone amongst the crowd called out his name and he tried to keep the heat from spreading across his face. His breathing grew quicker and his vision began to blur. It was over. He was ruined. It was all for nothi-
"Utterly helpless." He heard Triton mutter from beside him and the white rose he'd been tightly clutching was ripped from his hand. He felt hands swiftly tug his uniform back into place and with the distraction from the people watching, Coryo managed to even out his breathing. Triton clicked his tongue, like Grandma'am would do when she had to fix something for them in the past, and raised his brows at him. "Who's the guy and what does he do?"
"Uh," Coryo glanced over and raised a trembling hair to his ruffled curls, smoothing them down as best as he could. "Lucky Flickerman. He normally reports the weather."
"The weather?" Triton's brows scrunched together and he shook his head again, brushing away some dirt from Coryo's arm and nodding toward the bars. He moved without awaiting a response but Coryo quickly fell into step with him, trying to make it seem as if they were a team, as if he knew what the hell Triton was up to.
They reached the bars and Triton crouched down by two children, pointedly ignoring Lucky and his rapid-fire questions for the time being. He spun the white rose back and forth between his thumb and index finger, his head tilting slightly and the sweetest smile gracing his face. "Aren't you as pretty as a starfish? Do you know what that is?" The little girl stuck her finger in her mouth and timidly shook her head, glancing repeatedly at her mother for reassurance. Triton chuckled softly and Coryo found himself entranced as he worked his magic. "Well, they say that starfish were stars that got bored of being in the sky so they came down here to make a home in the sea. Some are as small as this rose here but others are nearly as big as a dog. And their colors are just... beautiful."
"Really?" The little girl asked and leaned forward, her eyes widening in awe.
"Yeah, and they can move. Ain't that weird?" The little girl's face scrunched up and she giggled. Triton laughed gently and offered up the rose for her, letting her stick her small hand through the bars and take the stem from him. He moved onto the boy next and raised his brows almost comically. "And aren't you a strong young man? What's your secret?"
"I don't have one." The boy laughed and puffed out his chest proudly.
Triton clicked his tongue and squinted playfully. "I bet you eat your greens, huh? That must be it."
"He does not, but he should." The mother answered, her hands squeezing her son's shoulders and drawing a sheepish smile from him. Triton chuckled and stood back up to his full height, turning his attention away from the siblings and onto his parents with a light hum.
"So, you must be the older sister and her boyfriend, right?" The mother's eyes briefly widened before smugness settled onto her rather plain features. She laughed and pressed her palm against her chest in a flattering manner, a broad smile stretching on her maroon-colored lips while she shook her head in response. Even her husband, a man with a clear receding hairline and a belly full of posca, seemed flattered by the compliment.
Triton smiled and turned to look at Lucky, his eyes briefly flickering between the microphone and cameras before his eyes widened in feigned shock. "You're Lucky Flickerman, aren't you? Oh, I've seen you before. Sir, it is an honor to meet you." Triton's voice turned softer and lighter, and he moved closer to the bars, curling his finger around the rusting metal. Lucky's posture quickly straightened and similar to the boy's, his chest puffed out with pride. Coryo's lips threatened to twitch into a grin and he fought it back desperately when Triton turned to him, his dark eyes briefly rolling before he spoke again. "Coriolanus, you should've told me there'd be someone famous here."
"I know, I know," Coryo laughed and smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt with the palm of his hand. He stepped closer to Triton and placed his hand on his back, the short distance between their faces making his stomach jolt with something unfamiliar, particularly when Triton turned his head and stared into his eyes so intently. "I would have if we hadn't been so rudely interrupted with that entrance. But please, let me make it up to you. Lucky Flickerman, this is Triton Odair. I will be his mentor for the 10th Annual Hunger Games."
"Pleased to finally meet you, Lucky Flickerman." Triton turned back to Lucky with a friendly smile and Coryo could see the crowd relaxing more at his presence. Parents loosened their hold on the children and the children moved closer to the bars in turn. Triton turned himself into a spectacle, someone worth watching and being around. Likable, charming, friendly. The opposite of what they'd been told district citizens were.
"Pleasures all mine!" Lucky replied automatically before catching himself. It wasn't every day a Capitol citizen had a friendly interaction with a district. He recovered quickly and cleared his throat. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Triton Odair, but you are from District 4, yes? For folks at home, District 4 is the fishing district."
"You're most certainly right, Lucky. Good memory you've got there." Triton looked away from Lucky to watch over the crowd until his attention settled on a group of girls huddled together and quietly murmuring among themselves. One noticed him watching and roughly elbowed another, one by one getting the girls' attention. He gave a boyish smile and lifted his hand to wave at them before turning back to Lucky and casually answering another question. Coryo watched as they returned to their conversation more excitably and with flushed faces.
"You've been a big hit with the ladies, Triton." Lucky wiggled his brow. "Tell me, have you got a special someone at home? I'm sure they're pretty jealous of all this attention you're receiving."
"I can't say I do, Lucky." Coryo's head turned away from the camera to look at him. No partner? That was a surprise. He'd imagine someone like Triton would have a pretty girl or handsome boy waiting for him to pop the question. Triton released a sigh and shook his head. "I'm afraid I spend too much time studying and working. But I do hope to find my other half soon. It'd be a joy to have kids."
"Ah, well, I'd say they'd be the prettiest kids in Panem, aye?" Lucky laughed loudly and the crowd exchanged uncomfortable, pitying glances. Triton could die in the Games, they knew that well, and now they had begun to care for him. Sensing the drop in mood, Lucky glanced back at the camera with his signature smile and abruptly diverted his attention onto Coryo. "Now, Coriolanus, you mentioned you were Triton's mentor. Did the Gamemakers tell you to jump in the cage with them?"
"They didn't tell me not to." He paused as people laughed. "They just said that it was a mentor's job to introduce our tributes to the citizens of Panem. And I thought, well if Triton's brave enough to be here, then why shouldn't I be too?"
Triton chuckled dryly. He hadn't had a choice. Coryo nearly grimaced at his own choice of words. "Well, bravery set aside, I'm glad to have you as a mentor, Coriolanus Snow."
"And it's a pleasure to have you as a tribute, Triton."