The Capitol loves Vaughn, of course. Silver-haired, gorgeous, amethyst eyes and that dark, brooding manner. Men and women alike are drawn to that aura, women wanting him to open up to him and men wanting either to dominate or be dominated.
Vaughn wasn't a career trib. Just a boy plucked from goddess-knows-where, scrawny and starving, but with that silver hair and gorgeous eyes and the ability to make the whole world swoon.
Black-and-Silver Prince, they call him. He's in high demand among the rich and famous in Panem. He graces their beds, silver and lithe and gloriously naked, and when he's slithered out of your bed he'll have taken all your secrets and you'd've been happy to give them to him.
(In the games that killed his best friend in the world, there hadn't been anything to eat. Denny and Vaughn were allies, but they were starving. One day Denny'd gone out to the river, tried to fish, tried to hold on to some semblance of what he was. A fisherman, a provider. He'd died there. The piranha-muttations had destroyed him.
Blind with terror and fury, Vaughn had clubbed the fish and ran. Just ran. And when he came across the first crop of wild carrots, he had fallen upon them and eaten them, sobbing as the blood of his best friend smeared on the orange.
Vaughn Vaults despises carrots. Ever since that moment, when he ate the wild carrots with the blood of his best friend on his hands, he has hated them. They will always taste like blood and the arena to him.
President Snow knows this, and makes certain to broadcast to the world that Vaughn Vaults, Capitol darling, loves carrots.
Everyone always has a stock of carrots on-hand, just in case Vaughn Vaults ever comes by.)