"Cori!"
Coriolanus Snow, District Five Victor of the 25th Hunger Games, ignored the greeting. He hated that nickname, and the person calling him wasn't Capitol, so he didn't have to respond. And today he didn't want to.
Alma Coin, District Two Victor of the 32nd Hunger Games, sat down on the floor next to him, not at all bothered that he hadn't replied to her greeting. She leaned against him, ignoring the way his body stiffened, placing her mouth up against his ear, so the bugs wouldn't hear. "We've finally heard from Thirteen, Coriolanus. They're in."
"And they couldn't have joined before my granddaughter died?" He kept his voice low, holding his anger back.
Alma knew him well enough to hear the anger anyway. She shifted into his lap and slipped her arms around his neck. He automatically placed his hands on her back. To anyone watching they would look like a pair of lovers, not like two people plotting a rebellion. They'd been lovers once, one way of dealing with the Capitol's demands, but since they'd finally gotten free of the whoring, they'd fallen out of the habit. "Apparently Trinket's 'schedules' didn't allow for rebellion until there was a catalyst," she murmured.
"Damn her," he hissed. Ten years of negotiations with District Thirteen, of trying to plan a rebellion, and Effie Trinket refused to act until now. Now, when Volumnia was dead.
"We need District Thirteen if we want to get rid of the Games, or President Abernathy." She paused. Then she tilted his head back until they were looking directly at each other. "As well as the boy from Eight."
His hands tightened. He didn't say anything.
"He's a symbol, Coriolanus. And one of Trinket's conditions."
"I hate that little..." He trailed off, unable to find a word strong enough.
"I'm more worried about having to coordinate with Tigris," Alma said, pursing her lips.
Coriolanus winced. Both of them knew the District Eight Victor all too well. She spent most of her life in a morphling haze and had since she won the Games almost thirty years before; this Games, the 74th, was the first time Tigris had ever successfully mentored a tribute to victory – and, really, she'd done very little actual mentoring. Her tribute had pretty much been on his own. Not that that had stopped him from winning.
Coriolanus still hated the kid. It wasn't Cinna Dyer's fault that he'd been reaped, of course. It wasn't even really his fault that he'd won; Coriolanus understood the need to survive that drove every single Hunger Games Victor. But Cinna had killed Coriolanus's favorite granddaughter, which was something he could not forgive. Volumnia had only been twelve, from a family rich enough not to need tesserae, and yet, with only one single slip in the ball, she'd still been reaped.
And no one had volunteered to save her.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, ignoring Alma. She let him, allowing him time to draw his own conclusions.
"We need Eight," he admitted finally. "But I can't promise I won't kill the little...bastard myself."
Alma nodded. "I'll coordinate with Tigris, and with Thirteen. But you'd better be prepared to deal with Abernathy, you know how he'll–"
The door opened.
"–want you to appear at the party tonight, Cori, dearest," Alma finished, her voice changing to the sugar sweet fakeness that the Capitol expected of her.
"What are you doing up here?" a voice snapped. "You're supposed to be on our floor, preparing for the party."
Coriolanus gently nudged Alma off his lap and smiled tightly up at the young woman standing before him. "My apologies, Miss Everdeen. I needed some privacy after today's...events."
"Yeah? Well you're lucky I guessed where you were. President Abernathy wants to speak with you. There's Peacekeepers in our living room and I'm told there's a car waiting for you outside. If I hadn't been able to find you, you'd be in for a hell of a lot of trouble."
"I'll be down momentarily, Miss Everdeen."
"Make it snappy."
"I shall."
Katniss Everdeen, District Five Escort and Coriolanus's taskmaster, turned around and left the roof, no doubt headed downstairs to let the Peacekeepers know he was on his way.
Coriolanus rose and brushed off his pants, then held a hand down to help Alma up. She didn't need the help, of course, but occasionally she appreciated the gesture. "Do I look good enough for an audience with the President?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
She looked him up and down, assessing. "You'll do." She started walking to the door, then paused. Turning her head just enough to see him, she said, "And Coriolanus? Good luck."
"Thank you," he replied, watching her leave. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for just a moment. Then, once he was ready, he headed for the door.
He was off to meet with the president, to reassure the drunken fool that of course he had no plans for rebellion, that everything he'd said in his interview after Volumnia's death had been the ravings of a heartbroken grandfather. It was time to begin the most important game he'd ever played, even more than the Hunger Games themselves or the minefield that was life for a Victor afterwards. This game would be far more difficult, for his opponent was a true mastermind.
And Coriolanus Snow was going to win.
oOo
Author's Note: Much thanks to FanficAllergy for the beta, and for encouraging me to write at least one scene from this clearly completely insane idea. Also, for writing my summary, because I hate those.
This universe may or may not continue - I know some of what happens and how the various other characters get switched around (not everyone, but a lot of them), but it all depends on time, motivation, and ideas.