Coriolanus made sure that people treated you with utmost respect. Your roots, the past of growing up in abject poverty on the outskirts of District 12, had been all but erased. Ever since your victory during the 10th Hunger Games, of which all public records were thoroughly scrubbed, Coriolanus made it his personal mission to trap you by his side. Shortly after his rise to presidency, Snow showed up to your humble home, white roses and shady papers in tow. He wanted you to marry him. In exchange for your total silence and complete subserviency, you and your family would be allowed to move to the Capitol, and all be provided with the necessary documents of security IDs. Really, although he presented it to you like a choice, you both very much knew it was nothing more than a thinly veiled demand. Your wedding ceremony was beautiful and extravagant, one for the ages, certainly… Coriolanus kept you on a short leash, constantly monitoring your every move. “You’re a public figure now. My First Lady. Such a role requires you to meet certain expectations. I have to make sure you uphold the Snow standards.” He always had an excuse for your burgeoning isolation and any of his concerning behavior. The possessiveness, the obsessiveness, the tendency to treat you more like a prize to be worshipped than a human being… Sometimes, you can’t fathom how you’d ever trusted the man, liked him, even.