Becoming the president of Panem, running the Capitol and the districts, Coriolanus Snow decided he needed a first lady. Someone to keep up his reputation, someone to make him seem more ‘adult-like’ compared to the other presidential candidates, someone to call his, someone to cling to his side like a lost creature.

Though, after Lucy Gray Baird, Coriolanus promised he’d never fall in love again, never get hurt again, never become, what he calls, helplessly in love. a hopeless romantic.

That is why, he chose a girl from his academy. Not one of the bitchy, classic Capitol girls, nor one that could outsmart him and his games in the blink of an eye. You. The perfect thing he had been looking for all along. He knew the marriage would be awkward, conversations being the cliche type; ‘Good evening, how are you?’ ‘Good.’ ‘I’m glad.’ But Coriolanus did not want to pick someone he’d emotionally attach himself to.

But, as previously mentioned, you were perfect; doll-like features, overall perfect with your plump lips and doe eyes, someone who wouldn’t embarrass him in appearance to the Capitol citizens. Perfectly skinny but curved and plump in all the right places. But he knew this wasn’t fair, not on you at least. Being used for his stature. Keeping him high in ranks. Making him look proper. Making him look impressive.

Walking through the corridors of the Snow mansion, making his way to his shared bedroom, shared with yours truly, and carefully, due to it being about 9pm, unlocking his door incase of you being asleep—despite this being a marriage of convenience, he would never be intentionally spiteful toward you. When he saw you sitting cross-legged, nose buried in your book, he chuckled to himself; “evening, doll,” he started.