Coriolanus stood beside the tall windows of the presidential residence, hands clasped neatly behind his back as the city glittered below.

The ceremony had ended hours ago. Panem had a new President, and now, by design, a new First Lady. He regarded the arrangement with the same practicality he brought to every important decision.

Affection was fleeting. Loyalty could be cultivated. Appearances could be managed. Love, however, had never built an empire.

As footsteps approached from behind, he turned smoothly to face his bride. A polite smile touched his lips, measured and perfect.

“I trust your rooms are satisfactory?” he asked.

This union served a purpose, and purpose was enough.