Part 3: Our grace, Coriolanus Snow, the Minister of Justice.
The incessant tick-tock of the clock doesn't let me sleep. Or it might be my thoughts. They're indecent, disgusting, and entirely sinful. They don't belong to me. They were planted by a seductive witch, a succubus. A follower of Satan brought to this world to make pious men fall to their doom.
And she has enchanted me, with her inciting dancing and sinful curves. Because of her spell now I have committed a crime after a lifetime of impeccable behavior.
In that moment, knowing that the insipid captain had touched the very skin I desired to possess, I lost myself. I wanted revenge.
But now that my mind isn't clouded by her witchcraft, I see that he was as much of a victim as I am. Why else an honorable man like him would throw his life away for a gypsy woman?
I look at the clock in the wall and get out of the bed. In moments of weakness I must turn to our higher law, so I get dressed and head to the cathedral.
The moment I enter, the flickering light of the candles sooths my soul and I feel at peace with myself. I vow a small reverence and say a prayer in silence, as a humble man is supposed to, when a raspy laugh interrupts me.
"Is your conscience finally not letting you sleep, Snow?" Archdeacon Haymitch Abernathy stands on the doorway holding a chandelier, the constant movement of the flames drawing shadows in his features. I take a deep breath, but otherwise not bothering to hide my contempt for this rude man.
"My conscience is as clean as the clothes I am wearing," I reply eying his nightclothes with apprehension. "I supposed the same could be said about you, Archdeacon. Isn't that the reason you drink more wine that you should?"
Abernathy laughs heartily. "You know very well how dirty is my conscience," he counters and I look away. The Archdeacon and I have a disagreement on how I should run things in this city, especially what concerns the gypsies. His opinion, however, holds no matter to me. His religious title does not hide the dark color of his skin and his obsession with equal treatment for Panem citizens and gypsies alike must come from a secret gypsy heritage.
"But I think you have come here tonight," he whispers while sitting next to me in the bench, "because even you can't justify the persecution of this young girl."
"She is an instigator," I refute, "and that is a crime in our city."
"Is that really the reason why you have moved an entire troop of Peacekeeper to find a girl who's only crime was to fetch a prisoner some water?" he inquires. "I've seen the way you look at her, Snow."
"I am the Minister of Justice, Abernathy, and you will refer to me as your grace or with my full title," I shout at him.
"Don't evade the question, your grace," he answers. "You think you are above the law because you are the one to enforce it, but you are just another common person in the eyes of the Lord. And he will punish you for your crimes."
It's my turn to laugh at his accusation. "The gypsies are the ones that have filled this city with temptation and decadence, they have brought sin to our pure citizens. I am only doing His work by cleansing the streets."
"Do you not fear facing Him after all you have done? How do you think He will judge you for keeping a poor innocent girl look up in a tower as a slave?" he spits my way.
"The Lord invested me in this role and I am sure He supports my judgment," I say while standing up. Hearing enough from this clown, I decide to pay a visit to the bell-ringer.
"Release that girl, Snow," he admonishes me. "Or this will be your downfall."
I step out of the chapel without another word.
—·—
When I reach the secluded chambers Rue lives in, the stink of human waste makes me cover my nose with my scarf. I consider who could dispose of the bucket for her necessities and the idea of ordering the Archdeacon to do it crosses my mind.
"Did you catch her?" are the first words she speaks to me. I frown at her lack of manners. But then I look at her state, tied to the bedpost without access to water unless I fetch it for her. No one but me is allowed to visit her in this place. No matter how horrendous her scar might be someone could still want to steal her virtue.
"She awaits her sentence in the dungeons of the Justice Building," I tell her while walking to the bucket of water I use for her. "It will be read in front of the hole city in a couple of hours."
Rue moans in pain, but I know it's not about the bindings. She has never complained about those in the past, accepting her punishments with strength. It is, after all, the only reason I have not given up on her salvation.
"She killed a man, my creature," I tell her softly. "She's not a good woman. She seduced and murdered the Head Peacekeeper in cold blood."
Rue looks at me in horror, beads of sweat running through her face. "It can't be," she mutters. "She wouldn't do such a thing."
"But she did," I continue. "She is a follower of Satan, an evil witch looking to let doom fall over Panem. She wants us all to perish, to succumb to temptation and sin. And she must be stopped."
"She was so sweet and beautiful. She was pure light and poetry, fire and wild forest," she mumbles, like in a feverish dream. I recoil at the nature of the words, at the underlining passion that it's implied in them.
"Do you have feelings for this woman?" I ask in horror.
Rue lowers her head in shame and I gasp. Perhaps I have been wrong about her and she is lost. For her to feel like this for another woman, it's an abomination!
"Have you touched yourself thinking of her?" I demand and Rue shakes her head vehemently. "That is a sin!" I growl.
Rue sobs and I recoil. Oh, how deep are the roots of this woman's sorcery. She has even confused this poor, innocent creature of having sinful thoughts towards someone her own gender. I shiver at the idea of the years I have spent saving this girl being wasted on a witch's whim.
"Don't worry, my creature," I say, fetching the sponge and soaking it in water. Rue drinks from the sponge with desperation as the little beast she is. It's not her fault, I remember myself. "I know how to solve this situation," I think out loud.
Rue looks at me in question, but doesn't speak. She might be a beast, but she's well train. "You and I both are victims of that witch spell," I explain. "Just like Captain Peeta Mellark was and maybe countless others. There's clearly only one solution for this."
I drop the sponge in the bucket of water and smile at my beast. "I'll save your soul from her, my creature."
Rue looks up at me in fear, no doubt understanding the meaning behind my words.
"Please, master," she says reaching to touch my shoes. I flinch but let her kiss the hem of my tunic nonetheless. "Please, don't hurt Katniss," she pleas.
So, that's her real name, I think to myself. "I am a benevolent master, am I not?" I question and she nods eagerly. "I'll give her an opportunity to repent." I turn to leave. I decide against feeding her the bread as a mean of constriction. "But if she refuses, I'll have no other choice but to sentence her to death."
Rue cries at that, but I ignore her. She's just another victim of her witchcraft. And I must stop this insanity before it spread through Panem like wildfire.
—·—
The peacekeepers are surprised to see me in the dungeons. They don't say a word but it's perfectly written in their faces. And understandable as well, since nobody wants to be in the dungeons, nor the prisoners not the Peacekeepers. More often than not, the duty falls on those guards dumb enough to get on the Head Peacekeeper's bad side, and with how fast the title rotates it's easy to make the mistake before the person took the prestigious position.
I look at Peacekeeper Gloss wondering what he might have done to anger the new Head Peacekeeper, Commander Thread. We walk in silence trough the stone passages until we reach a small cell. With a movement of my wrist, I ask for privacy and Gloss leaves the way we came in.
"What do I ought this honor?" she asks mockingly, but her voice cracks at the end. Her black hair mussed and her eyes unfocused, she hardly looks menacing. But it's an act, I remind myself. She is evil, powerful and dangerous. And she must be stopped.
"Katniss," I savor her name rolling out of my tongue, dragging out the 's' at the end. She looks surprised at the use of the name. "I think we would save time if we agree on being honest with each other."
Her face sobers and she nods. "Yes, I agree it will save time."
I walk to her, her arms lifted high over her head in metal handcuffs, and drag my hand over the naked skin of her arm. She flinches at the touch and makes a face of displeasure.
"I am not pleased by this turn on events," I start, which catches her attention. "You made me lose a very promising Head Peacekeeper with your witchcraft and sorcery."
Her silvery eyes practically bugged out of their sockets and suddenly fill with tears. "You were the one to stab him," se accuses.
"He was already lost," I sigh, "there was not more to do." I pick at the hem of her camisole, a sturdy fabric with no aesthetic value, completely different from the dress she danced in on the Festival of Fools. "You had already poisoned him, seduced him," I lift my hand gracing her full breast and she whines. "You ruined him, like you tried to do with me." I squeeze her flesh and she starts crying.
"But I am a benevolent ruler, Katniss," I say while dropping my hand to her waist, "and constriction is an important part of the path to salvation. And that is what I've come to offer."
Katniss looks at me, her face contorted in pain and confusion. "I don't understand."
"I'm giving you salvation, forgiveness for all your sins against the city and their inhabitants," I explain. "But if you refuse, the alternative is death and eternal damnation."
My hand wanders to her thighs, reaching the hem of her skirt and lifting it up. Her leg lifts up immediately to shield herself from my touch. I slap the leg to the ground and she whines again. "You will give yourself to me, liberating me from this enchant and I will let you go," I whisper to her ear, reaching again for her inner thigh.
Despite the handcuffs, Katniss starts thrashing around, forcing me to back away from her. "No! No! Never!" she screams. "I chose death over the shame of your hands on me!"
I slap her face hard, making her hit herself with the wall as well. "You filthy little whore! Don't go acting all demure! I know you're no longer pure! That's how you were hidden for so long, you traded your virtue with the Captain for protection! Maybe you didn't even have a virtue and just opened your legs for anyone, you disgusting gypsy."
I hit her again with the back of my hand and she whines again. "Peacekeeper!" I shout. Gloss comes to the cell in less than a minute. "Call Commander Thread! I want the Court of Miracles burnt to ashes by tomorrow morning. Let's see how the gypsies do without their hide out!"
Katniss pales at that and I laugh. Oh, she will pay for this. I'll make her suffer to her last breath and all of those who might have helped her will suffer too.
END OF PART THREE