Coriolanus hates the way that District 13 feels. Lucy Gray had teased him upon arrival, saying he should feel right at home with the sterileness that the walls are seeping. It feels too clean; too spotless.

So she's wrong.

It's not the comfort, the warmth of the Districts that he would never admit he'd become almost accustomed to, or at the very least would prefer to this. District 12 had felt full of life, and color was bursting at every edge, so vibrant that it had been overwhelming.

And the Capitol certainly didn't skimp on color either; the fashion of the Capitol folk for regular errands was like choking on a rainbow. Even the style of houses and interiors, though sleek, had been painted in gilded gold, shimmering silver, and bursting bronzes.

This gray, suffocating, and cloying, was nothing like what Coriolanus liked at all.

For all his displeasure, though, Lucy Gray absolutely hated it.

It wasn't hard to glean such things. She made her displeasure of much of everything here pretty obvious.

She'd almost bit the arm off of the soldier that tried to take her pretty ruffles away, balling up Coriolanus's mother's scarf, the orange brilliantly shimmering against the grays of the walls in here, pressing it close to her chest.

"You take this, you'll regret it. It was a gift from my husband, you see?" She said, eyes burning, "And I'm not inclined to give it up any time soon."

That's my girl.

So Lucy Gray kept her scarf. And her colorful dress.

She didn't give a rat's ass about offending anyone here, something Coriolanus was trying to carefully navigate.

"Utilitarian my ass," She muttered to Coriolanus, glad he had a comrade in navigating this, "No wonder their population is scarce-this would make me suicidal to live like this."

Though his wife, she was not quite a friend, and no longer quite an enemy. Something treading the waters in between, but like a slippery fish, would flash away whenever he tried to grasp it to figure out what they meant to one another.

Tied with a red string; that's the best way Coriolanus could think to explain it. They'd fallen into each other's lives, for better or worse. Whenever Coriolanus tried to untangle the complicatedness of how they fit into one another's space, he found that they were constantly crisscrossing in and out, making it impossible to separate one from the other.

He'd changed Lucy Gray, but she'd changed him too.

How else would he be here, willingly, at the end of the world if that were not so?

Their first days in District 13 were spent in a holding cell. It was far more comfortable than anything the Peacekeepers would have thrown suspect people in, but it didn't put Coriolanus at ease one bit.

Finally, after many interviews with multiple people where Coriolanus answered the same questions over and over, as though someone was just waiting for him or Lucy Gray to trip up, they were both brought in front of the current President; a man who hardly looked like he'd surpassed 40, with clear blue eyes like a depthless lake.

"President Jackson; we've heard much about you," Coriolanus said, going to give him a firm handshake. That was how he was taught to make the best impression, "What an honor."

"Sir," Lucy Gray followed, curtsying.

He spied her still in her ragged clothes, while Coriolanus had switched out his attire for their generic khaki boiler pants. His jeans and shirt weren't much to care about anyway.

"I still you're still refusing our District uniform," He said, "But you can't stay in that dress forever."

Lucy Gray wrapped the orange scarf tighter around her shoulders, "You don't know me, President," She said with a sweet, but venomous smile, "But my stubbornness has no bounds."

Coriolanus bit his tongue, wishing she'd be a bit less provocative.

However, President Korbin Jackson smiled, charmed by her.

"That so? I hear you seek asylum."

"Yes, sir, as we've explained to all your men," Coriolanus said, a tad aggravated. He didn't leave everything to spend days locked in a cage like a stray mutt. If this was his life prospect, he'd take the chance of going back any day.

"If you intend to live here, you're one of us. That means that you follow our rules."

He looked pointedly at Lucy Gray.

"She'll fall in line," Coriolanus promised with a tight smile, "She's just tired, as I am. You can imagine the upheaval of a new place like this."

"Hmm," President Jackson crossed his arms, "I take it from your shaved head you were a Peacekeeper back in the Districts. You have military training."

It wasn't a question. It was an observation.

Not that this man was a regular detective in Coriolanus's eyes. Almost anyone could glean that; it was the way Coriolanus was very precise about holding himself. He wanted President Jackson to know that. He wanted to be placed where he felt he could make the best decisions going forward, the place where the power lay.

Plus, he figured his shaved head was a dead giveaway.

Didn't make Jackson smart, just made him not dumb. And yes, there was a difference. And, if you were trying to suss someone out, it was important to know which.

"Yes, sir."

"That can be useful to us," Jackson said with a curt nod, "How old are you?"

His gaze had switched to Lucy Gray. Funny that he didn't bother asking Coriolanus.

"Twenty," Lucy Gray replied with a soft, doe smile. They'd agreed early on to say that she was 20 and he was 22. It would make far more sense for them to be married at those ages, and less likely to be seen as two teenagers throwing a tantrum. Even though she had a round face and large eyes, Coriolanus felt she could pass for just a few years older easily, and President Korbin Jackson didn't seem to think otherwise.

"You train at all?"

"No, sir," Lucy Gray said, "I'm afraid I've seen enough violence in my life to know it's not for me."

She didn't need to say she was a former Hunger Games victor. It was enough to think her life had been full of pain and hardship.

"Pity. What else can you offer us?"

Coriolanus felt Lucy Gray stiffen beside him.

"I can sing."

Korbin held back a snort, though he didn't hide his disdain, "We don't have much need for that here."

"Everyone needs songs in their lives." Lucy Gray argued, crossing her arms.

"Look, if you want to try to sing in your free time, by all means," Korbin said dismissively, "But a pretty face and a clear voice doesn't get you far here. The default is military, whether you want to or not. Unless you can clean, cook, or heal."

Lucy Gray bit the inside of her cheeks, holding back angry tears. Coriolanus could see them gathering in the Coriolanusners of her eyes.

Perhaps at the beginning of their journey together, Coriolanus wouldn't have cared. She was a thorn in his side, a loose end, a threat to his safety. The reason he'd kept her around was her usefulness, but it seemed luck had turned her back to her now.

However, Coriolanus didn't like the idea of sending her back, away from him.

He'd meant it when he'd said that she was his.

"She can forage. And cook. And if you give her training in medicine, she can do it too." He spoke up, and her fingers fished for him, squeezing it.

A silent thank-you, the only kind he'd ever get from her.

"Sure," Korbin said, examining them carefully. It was clear they were a packaged set now. Coriolanus, without thinking, had made a statement.

He'd have to be more savvy in the future.

"I'll cook," Lucy Gray spoke up, finding her voice, "I can cook."

"You can get a day to become settled in, and find your way around. However, we expect you up bright and early to your summons at 6 am in two day's time. Continual tardiness will result in exile."

"How are we to know our schedules? Messenger pigeon?" Lucy Gray bit out, furious. Korbin almost smiled.

"Temporary tattoos, slid under your door each night." He said, pulling up his sleeve, "Welcome to District 13. I hope you will become productive members of our society You know; we always are pleased to welcome families."

Internally, Coriolanus was beaming. It wasn't until a guard left them off at the doors of their new house that Coriolanus let out a truly relieved sigh that transitioned into a full-bodied laugh.

They needed them more than they needed District 13.

They were desperate for people, for survival. Though Jackson postured that they were willing to throw them away at the first hint of disrespect, the truth of their leverage lay in his words.

Families.

Coriolanus had found his angle.

He could work on this.

"What's so funny?" Lucy Gray demanded.

"I see it clearly now," Coriolanus explained, eyes bright, "And President Jackson has no idea what he just admitted."

Perhaps this wouldn't be the exile Coriolanus had thought it was going to be.

XXX

Coriolanus woke up slowly, leisurely.

A warm light spilled into their little room, an imitation of the bright, early sun.

Coriolanus felt better rested than he had in years. The bed in his apartment had been sold off long ago, and he slept on a collection of pillows cobbled together to resemble a cot (Grandmaam still had her mattress; she deserved it). The Academy had a few cots that were a step above, and the Peacekeeper beds were somewhere between the two.

The best bed, prior to this, had been when he'd broken his arm in childhood and spent three days at the hospital wing.

But he'd never tell anyone that.

This bed almost felt too large, too comfortable.

Coriolanus was on edge the moment he woke up, tensed, expecting some 'gotcha' to leap out and shake him silly, make him regret thinking he could fall asleep anywhere.

But it never came.

No, the truth was, as sparsely decorated as their suite was, the bed was the best feature.

It was at least a queen, if not a king size, with colorless yet comfortable sheets and a mattress that just made you want to sink into it forever. It helped with his theory, the one that ruminated slowly in the back of his brain, rolling about.

Being given this boon was indeed quite the tell for District 13.

Still.

Lucy Gray was snuggled up next to him.

There was only one bed, of course, since they were meant to be married. The chairs looked almost aggressively uncomfortable to sleep on, and they'd been curled up in each other many nights before this.

It seemed like the best choice.

Coriolanus felt clean and awake; two emotions he had not felt for quite some time.

They had a small shower in their bathroom off the singular room. While it wasn't anything to write home about, and their water was on a timer so there were no luxuriously long steamy sessions, Coriolanus was glad that District 13 still abided by some creature comforts.

The soap they'd been given was non-scented and lathered well enough. There hadn't been hot water, but they were used to dunking themselves in frigid streams on the way here, so it wasn't too odious a task. Coriolanus had heard through the grapevine that the further you moved in the military ranks, there might be a possibility of warm showers down the line.

Silly as it was, that already was a convincing argument as to why he should figure out his place- and take note of the way one had upward mobility- fast.

He pressed his nose into Lucy Gray's hair splayed across their pillow, breathing in her natural scent underneath the lingering hint of non-descript soap.

They were gifted plain cotton tees and shorts to wear to bed, and Lucy Gray had at least relented into wearing this. It dwarfed her like someone had gotten her sizing wrong at the surplus store, but Coriolanus was charmed by how it hung off her figure. He noticed she'd only put on the shirt, choosing to keep her legs bare.

Coriolanus dove his fingers underneath the hem of the shirt, tugging it up so he could splay his hands across her hip, leaning into her, biting back a quiet moan.

His mind was on replay: wife, mine, Lucy Gray Snow…

He replayed through these words as she shifted, waking gently. She turned her head to glance back at Coriolanus, an impish smile on her lips.
"Morning, doll. I thought I had gone to heaven the way these sheets feel," She said, shivering in excitement.

"Same," Coriolanus agreed, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone.

Waking up in a bed with her almost felt…domestic. That tickled his stomach with an emotion he couldn't quite grasp, but he wasn't sure he liked it.

Or perhaps that was the issue; he liked it too much.

Either way, he tried to shove that feeling down, kill it, and bury it.

Lucy Gray let out a soft, but hard-edged exhale as she pressed back against him.

"Coriolanus-," She whispered, as though afraid someone would hear her use his real name, "Please…"

"Can I?" He asked, unsure why he was asking permission. She was his wife, and this was her duty. Even as that thought came across his mind, he felt venom pulling in his throat, and burning all the way up, like the idea was going to choke him.

Luckily, Lucy Gray was more than willing.

He perhaps would joke that he unlocked something in her, but the truth was, she'd unleashed something within him. The reason he'd never sought to lose his virginity before her was lack of interest; it distracted him from his goals.

Besides, any girl he tried to bed, he ran the risk of having to take her home, and he very well couldn't have that.

It had seemed such a frivolous distraction, and therefore, he'd never felt that burning urge, not the way he had now. It's like she opened up about what true passion and pleasure actually were, and he felt foolish for imagining he could ever go without.

But maybe it was just her.

He wasn't sure he cared enough to look anyone else's way.

Funny thing, he doubted that she'd ever have to worry that he'd step out on her to seek sexual gratification elsewhere. Lucy Gray was all he had wanted, and somewhere, he had a feeling that would never change.

Lucy Gray gasped as he pressed into her, moving his hips slowly.

The soreness of their travels, as well as sleeping in a holding cage for three days, had caught up with him. While his dreams were of taking her in every dirty position he could think of, reality required him to go slower.

Besides…they had all the time in the world right now.

Lucy Gray bucked her hips against him, and they found a quiet, slow rhythm. It felt like lava slowly slucing down a mountainside. Just because he wasn't snapping his hips fast didn't mean that it was without the feeling of fire in both of their lower stomachs.

The way that Lucy Gray moved with him was enough to tease him and keep him on edge, never quite allowing him to find completion. In turn, Coriolanus used his fingers between her legs to drag her right to the precipice of an orgasm, before withdrawing his hands, leaving her begging for friction.

Finally, Coriolanus took full steerage, pulling Lucy Gray's hips harshly against his, holding her in place as he ran his high to its finish line.

"Do you still need to finish?" He asked Lucy Gray, rolling her onto her back. He knew that perhaps his former classmates would believe him a greedy lover. Perhaps with anyone else he would be, but it was such a thrill to hear her moans from his fingers, or his cock, or his tongue and know that no other man was making her sound like that.

"If you'd be so kind," She said, smiling up at him. Her shirt was pushed up to her neck.

Coriolanus leaned down, taking a breast in his mouth, swirling his tongue around her, and listening to her gasp.

His left hand pushed her legs apart, a satisfaction rising within him to feel his own spent between her legs.

"Oh- Coriolanus!" Lucy Gray gasped, pulling him up for a bruising set of kisses as she rode his hand until she found her own completion.

"Well, good morning to you too," She said with a throaty laugh, "Is that how I can expect all my wakings to go?"

Coriolanus grinned.

He couldn't help it; his smile was genuine.

He stumbled to his bathroom, leaning into the mirror and rubbing his chin. He really hated beards; he hoped there was a razor within this stupid cave to return his face back to its usual smooth self.

His hair had begun to grow back, however. Lucy Gray came up behind him, and as though she was reading his mind, rubbed the top of his head as she passed.

"I liked your hair when we first met. I hope they let you grow it out again," She said.

Coriolanus nodded, "Me too."

They brushed their teeth, both took more quick showers, and Coriolanus dressed in his jumpsuit. Lucy Gray stared at hers, before stubbornly putting her dress back on. She'd washed it last night, so it didn't smell like it had while they were traveling.

"I know," She said, catching the frustrated wrinkle of his forehead, "But just one more day with it."

Then, they went exploring.

Hand in hand, like any newlywed couple in love ought to look like, exploring what Coriolanus had to think was their new home for the foreseeable future.

While Lucy Gray was looking for places to perform, Coriolanus was charting anything he could… exits, how many guards were near each passage, doors that were unmarked, doors that were marked, and how the military all communicated with each other (verbally and non-verbally). Coriolanus had only today to be a master before he showed up tomorrow morning if he wanted to get ahead.

And, let's be honest, of course, he did. He didn't know how to be any other way.

The citizens of District 13, although all eerily similar in their jumpsuits, were very kind to Lucy Gray and Coriolanus - excuse me, to Oleander and Linnett Rose. There was a general excitement that buzzed beneath the surface to see them, something that Coriolanus was cataloging and carefully tucking away.

The meals they had in the cafeteria felt on par with what Coriolanus expected them to be. Bland, filling, and nutritious.

He'd honestly really take squirrel stew right now. At least there had been some varying flavor there.

But he understood, sort of. It was hard to exist totally underground.

Still, there had to be smart people here, right? People who could figure out how to plant some herbs or spices, at the very least?

Hell, he'd figure it out himself because he was horrified to think that this could be his life from now on, eating boiled potatoes and hardly salted venison among a thousand others dressed exactly like him.

He and Lucy Gray were also hard to miss as newcomers, but Lucy Gray's attire just made her stand out even more.

She was using it to her advantage, though.

As a natural performer, Coriolanus hadn't thought that she would be someone good at networking, but he supposed that finding places to sing in front of the right people did require some skills he'd assumed she lacked.

When she tried, she was a natural. Which told him that she could have charmed Jackson, she just chose not to.

He wasn't sure if that made him want to laugh or strangle her.

She made sure everyone knew their story and it was all straight.

"Yep, my husband and I ran away because our marriage wouldn't be accepted back there," She told two girls as they were waiting for lunch.

"See that man? That's my husband, Oleander. Isn't he handsome? Best pick of 'em all," She said, winking at him across the way as some citizens greeted her while they wandered around the common area.

Or, "If you hear anything, I apologize in advance. But we just can't seem to keep our hands off each other!" To the people who had the misfortune of being their neighbors.

Well, that last one was true.

Coriolanus wanted her as much as he could, for as long as she'd allow it.

By the end of their first day, Lucy Gray was already scheming to find ways to sing and be accepted for her signing, and Coriolanus was mapping his future in his mind.

XXX

The next two weeks flew by.

Acclimating to their new schedules and climates was no easy task. District 13 expected its citizens to work, and work hard. Most days, they met up to eat dinner and returned home to fall into bed, each swapping stories about their day, usually falling asleep mid-discussion.

Rinse, repeat.

Coriolanus knew this was roughest for Lucy Gray, who had lived fancy-free before this, her only obligation being on stage for her shows. She did tell him that they were expected to practice or write new songs, but Coriolanus hardly thought that could be considered strenuous or time-sensitive, not like her new job was.

She usually returned home, hands red and raw from steaming vegetables or peeling potatoes all day. It also wasn't very fun, but Coriolanus couldn't say the same about his job either.

It just felt like surviving, which Coriolanus hoped to change soon.

He was getting along well with the other military members his age, and slowly absorbing the way District 13 ran. He, personally, had some ideas he thought would really liven up this place, but one step at a time.

He'd hardly done anything to climb the ladder in Peacekeeping. He figured with a little extra effort here, he could see some real change in status as soon as the roll of the new year.

What Coriolanus did not expect was to be called in by President Jackson so quickly.

Head held high, he imagined that he'd been seen for his natural prowess and was being raised to the next level of military rank.

Of course, he'd act gracious and humble, insisting there must be some mistake, but would fold in the end.

That's what Oleander would do.

He was hardly afraid of Jackson. Gaul had put fear right into his heart…he had never fully trusted her. Crazy couldn't be reasoned with, and she was most definitely crazy. He hadn't ever feared Highbottom, despite the fact that Casca could make his life very difficult. Though, Snow had always known he couldn't take it too far, because otherwise, people would notice. And, up until the games, Coriolanus had been able to easily dodge whatever stupid hurdle HIghbottom had placed in front of him.

And Jackson?

He may be President by popular vote now, but Coriolanus wouldn't wait to show these people what a real leader looked like.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Oleander, please sit. Coffee?" He offered.

Coriolanus took a cup. He hadn't drank this since the capitol. It was hard to come by in the Districts.

He politely sipped, waiting for the lauding to begin.

Instead, Jackson crossed his arms, "I've been watching you, Rose," He said cautiously. Coriolanus sat back. Of course he had, that was Coriolanus's whole goal. To be noticed.

"I've been watching you and your wife. And I've come to a conclusion."

"Oh?" Throwing Lucy Gray into the conversation made Coriolanus pause.

"She's District, I certainly believe that. But you? You're not." He said, wiggling a finger at Coriolanus.

"I don't understand?" Coriolanus's whole illusion with Lucy Gray had been that that he'd been a Peacekeeper, so still district.

"We both know that while District 2 is better off, you're no carefully grown Peacekeeper. Naw; I know enough about Panem to know a Capitol boy when I see one."

Coriolanus stiffened in his seat before forcing himself to relax.

Jackson was hedging a bet. No reason to confirm it.

"I think you're confused-,"

"Who are you, really?" Jackson asked, sitting across from Coriolanus, "And it'll be easier if you tell me the truth."

Coriolanus opened his mouth to stick to his guns, but Jackson must have seen it on his face.

"Look, probably no one in Panem gives two shits about the girl you're here with. I'd be surprised if anyone noticed she's gone. But you? You're 100% Capitol, and therefore, it's probably a big deal you're gone. I bet if I sent scouts out even an inch into Panem, we can figure out who you are right away. So, let me know who I'm truly dealing with."

Coriolanus locked his jaw, glaring at Jackson.

"I don't care, really, other than needing to be on the side of having knowledge. You can still be Oleander to everyone here. That doesn't need to change, unless, of course, you choose to not tell me." Jackson continued.

Coriolanus weighed his options.

A good planner knew when he was backed up against a wall.

"Coriolanus Snow," Coriolanus replied tersely. Jackson laughed out loud.

"No shit? You wouldn't be related to-,"

"Crassus?" Coriolanus finished dryly, "Dear old dad. Died somewhere between this border and 12's, if you're curious, a long time ago."

"Huh. Wonders never cease." Jackson leaned back on his chair, putting his combat boots on the table, "I'm surprised that you're here, not strangling me. From what I hear…we put the Snows in quite a position after we left Panem, taking all your wealth with us."

Cro clenched his fists, "We had money elsewhere."

"Not from what I heard," Jackson said with a too-friendly smile, "I guess I'll start sleeping with one eye open from now on, though. You sure you're not here for revenge on us?"

Coriolanus tried to seem unassuming, "Hadn't even crossed my mind."

"You don't say. So, why are you here, then?" Jackson asked.

Coriolanus stood, "Same as the last time you asked. For my wife. I love her."

Jackson patted his shoulder as he left, "I'd practice saying that last part out loud. Maybe the next time you say it, it will seem like you actually mean it. Good talk, Snow . I'll be keeping a very curious eye on you. I meant what I said before…I still feel like you can do great things for District 13. Don't make me regret that."

Coriolanus watched him leave the briefing room, and when he unclenched his hands, he'd pressed his nails so deep into his palm he'd drawn blood.

XXX

While Coriolanus took careful mental notes on everyone here, most of all, he counted the children.

Not in some weird, creepy way, but Coriolanus was very aware of the number of children in District 13.

Or, rather, the lack thereof.

If there was one thing he knew from District…the poorer, the more kids that seemed to be produced. More kids to survive to adulthood, more kids to help out with the family, more kids to be Reaped and dilute the pool of possible choices.

God, District 12 had been swarming with kids; all dirty, and matted hair, and grossly underfed. It was even, one may consider, a problem.

But not here.

Here, in District 13, kids were a rarity.

Before he could voice his theory to Lucy Gray, Snow needed to figure out why .

Asking around about it wasn't too hard. He was newly granted salvation within a safe place to exist that included steady meals and warm places to slumber, and he was young and married. Giving faux inquiries into having children in District 13 hardly raised any red flags.

It was also easy to ask about their general history since the Dark Days. If they were honest about wanting to restart over here, knowing the national annals only made sense, and it made 'Oleander' look like he cared.

Which, in a sense, he did.

He just liked having all the cards in his hand before he made a play.

Now, a less educated many may make a sweeping generalization and say that there were so few people, of course, there wouldn't be that many kids. They wouldn't think it a moment further. They'd be satisfied with their conclusion.

They'd be wrong.

You see, the numbers - even if the population was pathetic - didn't account. It wasn't one or two kids spread over, say, 100 coupled family members. No, it was more like three or four kids amongst 25 families.

That's what was strange.

There was hardly a single child to see. Always one of multiple.

So, that begged the bigger question; was it by choice? Mutation? Force? Mindwashing? Were couples with kids granted better privileges, therefore encouraging the continuation of the family line?

These were all the things Coriolanus carefully gathered up over the next few months.

In doing so, Coriolanus found himself thinking about the merit of children - of having some for himself, not in the general question if kids bettered a society or not (of course they did) - more than he ever had.

He didn't grow up around kids. He had no young cousins to practice carrying, as some of his classmates did, nor did he have a large extended family anymore in which he may come across such citizens.

He also did not spend time near elementary schools. He had no reason to.

He didn't find kids bothersome, it was more like he never gave them any thought previously. They didn't frequent the places he hung out, and apart from crossing paths with families out walking as he made his way to school, his interactions were rather short.

Even the Hunger Games, arguably, though with 'kids' weren't the sort that were here. The most interaction he'd gotten was when he was a Peacekeeper, watching starving toddlers and five-year-olds hope for food, and at most, he'd felt sorry for them.

But even then, he hadn't considered the possibility himself.

It had always seemed like an eventuality, no stranger thought that it would happen compared to the unavoidable fact that he would grow old or that one-day Grandmaam would die. He had no strong feelings about either of those, to be frank.

Yes, of course, he imagined he'd marry someone either rich or rich-adjacent, and she'd want kids, and he'd give in and that would simply be that.

No further thoughts.

But now, as he sat in the lunchrooms, watching all the school children line up for their daily meals and as he watched parents come over to kiss their heads as they passed or ask about the first half of their day, Coriolanus found himself weighing the merits more seriously.

The first, obviously, was legacy.

It was why his father had him. Someone to carry on a historic, important name.

Even if Snow was not a 'Snow' here, he still carried the weight, the responsibility, and the expectations upon his shoulders.

While any child he sired here, naturally, would not be able to take on the 'Snow' name in public, it didn't mean that his legacy was gone.

No…Coriolanus had a feeling that one day, the last name 'Rose' here would be just as awe-worthy as his former surname. And that deserved people to lead it on, even after he was long gone.

Heirs.

He found himself imagining passing along all his knowledge to a little him, someone just as clever and eager. He thought about how he'd teach his son or daughter how to read books and how to read people, how to charm friends as well as enemies, and how to fight for what you wanted in life.

Moreover, he found himself contemplating having kids with Lucy Gray.

That was the strangest thing.

In all his previous musings on children, his wife's face had been wiped from thoughts, as though she didn't exist. Because it hadn't previously mattered. He had never imagined marrying for love (not that, he would argue, he was married for love currently). He had always thought it would be an arranged marriage or someone he could just barely stand, but he'd be lying to admit that Lucy Gray was far more than a means to an end concerning legacies and the such.

Sometimes, his thoughts went in strange directions and he wondered if any child they produced would have his stark white hair, or if they'd take on Lucy Gray's long dark curls. Would they sing like her? Would she teach them lullabies to help them soothe themselves to sleep? Would their laugh bounce off the halls like hers did?

Sometimes, Coriolanus wanted to shake himself silly for falling for such lines of questioning.

Other times, he turned off his brain and just allowed himself these thoughts, too great in meaning than he was ready to admit.

XXX

Time crept on, and soon enough, they'd been there a whole turn of a season. Coriolanus could feel the upward chills, even down here. People were allotted sweaters to combat the chills that seeped through the floors and the walls, and Coriolanus couldn't help but smirk at thinking that soon the world above would be blanketed with snow.

He had fit swimmingly into his role. It wasn't hard. He'd surpassed expectations as a Peacekeeper and frankly, this was much of the same. He was hardly exerting any effort, which was good, since all his energies were needed to unravel the web of political and social connections.

Already, he was planting seeds of higher ranks in people's thoughts, hoping to be brought up the ladder before his first year was out.

From there? Well, the first step was always the most difficult. Everything after would just be easier and easier.

That's the funny thing about power; one may imagine that it was so difficult to grasp at the very top. In actuality, the hard thing was getting your foot in the door. Once you've managed that, power hung in places quite easy to grasp…if you knew exactly where to look.

Lucy Gray was finding the transition more difficult. For as stubborn as Coriolanus knew he could be sometimes, he'd really met his match with his wife. She didn't know when to comply for her own good, sometimes, but then again…he admired her for her moxie.

She had a quiet strength to her, something that he was just about noticing, that had been vital in keeping her alive in the Hunger Games and keeping her alive now.

Besides, he was starting to consider that marrying someone with no backbone, who would have submitted to his every wish, would have been dreadfully boring.

Lucy Gray was seeking more from life than District 13 could offer, and they both knew that. She needed some vibrant and breathing, and District 13 felt half a foot from death. Even though she knew it was necessary to live here, Lucy Gray's opinion of it was clear.

"I can't believe these people don't have a hall to sing!" Lucy Gray complained, just the newest in her list of grievances, "It's like they've never partied before!"

"They haven't," Coriolanus snorted, having just been present at a District 13 wedding. Sure, their wedding outside had been fake and nothing special, but it was leagues above in feeling and livelihood than what he'd witnessed. You wouldn't have even thought the bride and groom were pleased to be married to one another, or anyone was happy for them at all!

"How does an entire community forget to live?" Lucy Gray continued, "It's insane!"

Coriolanus shrugged, "Survival and thriving are two very different things."

"Well, that's not good enough for me. I want to thrive. I don't want to spend my days like a damn dead body, just punching in and punching out."

Neither did Coriolanus, but he didn't say anything.

Instead, what he thought, was that when he was high enough in power, he could change all that.

Life without living wasn't much fun at all.

"It's pragmatic," He tried to explain. They were held tightly to their food, needs, and wants because they didn't have much extra.

"There has to be other ways," Lucy Gray said, furiously scrubbing her daily tattoo from her arm, "I'm going to go sing tonight!"

"Are you?" Coriolanus raised an eyebrow. All her previous attempts had been thwarted.

"Korbin said it himself; what I do in my free time is my business. Can't stop me."

Coriolanus sipped his tea without saying anything.

"What?" She demanded.

"They can, and they will," He said simply, "If they want to."

"Fucking hell, Coriolanus, you're meant to be on my side!" Lucy Gray stomped her foot, "Remember our wedding vows?"

"Blindly agreeing with you was never one of the requirements," Coriolanus said, put off at her current childish display, "I'm playing devil's advocate."

"I don't need the devil. I spend enough time with him as it is," Lucy Gray said pointedly, and Coriolanus couldn't help but hide a smirk as he lifted his mug, "In public, I need my husband to back me up."

Coriolanus sighed, relenting.

"What do you need?"

Lucy Gray carried her weight between each ball of her foot, weighing the question, "Just be there."

Coriolanus considered her request, "Sure. I can do that."

He missed her singing. It would be nice to hear it again.

XXX

Coriolanus watched Lucy Gray drag a microphone to the front of the communal space, where people were chatting quietly and politely with each other. He caught sight of her with her sweater tied around her waist, her jumpsuit pushed up to her elbows, and he couldn't help but grin.

It was the ones she'd painted.

Korbin had nearly had a conniption when he'd seen that. She'd taken scraps from the kitchen and bought supplies from the general store to accomplish this, and she argued that nothing she used wouldn't have been thrown out anyway.

She was clever enough to make damn sure that he couldn't yell at her for that.

And, she continued, it never said anywhere that she couldn't do this to her uniform. Coriolanus had a feeling Korbin was going to make it a law now, but Coriolanus liked the idea of Lucy Gray defying rules enough to necessitate creation.

Something about that just tickled him.

Besides, it was stunning. Her creativity did not simply end with her voice.

Feathers, wind, and Mockingjay painted all up and down her uniform in a swirl of vibrant, unmistakable colors.

Her departure from the norm, standing up there in that, was enough to turn a few heads.

Lucy Gray called it marketing to her audience.

"Hi ya'll, you might not know me yet, or maybe you do. It's been really nice of you to take us poor souls in. I'm Linnett Rose and I've loved being here for the last few months," Lucy Gray started, leaning into the microphone and giggling, gathering the attention of anyone not already looking, "Now, I'd like to thank you for your generosity with a song or two, if that's alright with you?"

Blank, confused faces turned towards Lucy Gray. Coriolanus snickered into his hand, watching as Lucy Gray took their silence with grace.

"Hmm, tough crowd tonight, but that's okay," She said, "Now, usually I'd have a whole band up here behind me, see. And my guitar. So you'll have to excuse me for the version I'm able to give y'all, but I hope you'll still enjoy it."

She began to stamp her feet, a familiar beat that Coriolanus recognized from one of her previous sets. He hadn't heard her write anything new since arriving here, obviously not overly inspired by her current life.

The reaction to her singing was…lukewarm. No, there was a ripple of enjoyment, Coriolanus could tell. He could see the small signs- people wanting to enjoy it, their bodies yearning to breathe into the rhythm and let go, but not knowing how.

"Let's see some dancing!" Lucy Gray encouraged, "Song is always best with a little toe-tapping. It's real easy, just let the music sway you!" She said, "See, like this! Just breathe with it. You're the wind. I know ya'll don't get much of that down here, but I know that song is inside all of us!"

No one got up and moved publicly, but Coriolanus watched some toes begin to tap in time, or fingers drum on the table, or heads begin to bob in rhythm to Lucy Gray's next song.

The people wanted everything Lucy Gray wanted; they wanted whimsy, they wanted life, they wanted joy, but they'd been told for so long they could afford it that no one knew how.

Maybe it wouldn't be Coriolanus to really change things…maybe it would be Lucy Gray to shake things up around here.

As Coriolanus was contemplating that very abrupt thought, that maybe the one behind the power wouldn't be him, not the way he imagined it, Korbin appeared at his table. He held a crisp glass of water in his palm; District 13, as far as Coriolanus knew, didn't have alcohol.

Damn shame that too.

Maybe that would get people dancing.

"See, told you she could sing like the angels," Coriolanus said, a haughty proud smile on his face. As he spoke, he wasn't sure where Oleander ended and Coriolanus began, or how much of that satisfaction glowed within his own chest and wasn't just what a good husband ought to say.

"I never said she couldn't. All I said was that we don't have much use for that here."

"I'd disagree," Coriolanus said curtly, "People need more to live for. They need…" He stared out at the people leaning into her music, eager, "...Hope. Just a little to live for. Or else why bother?"

Korbin stared down at Coriolanus with the most curious expression, "We're all for a bigger cause, Oleander. District 13 isn't much about individualism."

"So it shouldn't matter?" Coriolanus shot back, "People should fall in line, never question, never want more?"

"Wanting more is dangerous," Korbin argued in a low tone, "We can't go above ground. We can't have what Panem has. We can't afford people to start wanting things they can never have."

"I never said you had to give it to them," Coriolanus said, leaning in, pressing his weight on his forearms, "You just have to give them the illusion it could happen."

It's what he'd clung to his entire life; the thought that maybe, if he worked hard enough, he could get the Plinth Prize and save his family. It's what Lucy Gray had fought for; if she pushed enough, she could make it through the Hunger Games. It's what everyone he knew was doing…clawing, tooth and nail, for that one, bright, shining star of a lucky change of fate.

He was mature enough to know most would never get there.

But, the world certainly never stopped to let people know that.

And there was genius in that.

Gaul had known that. It's why she tied the Prize to being the best Game Maker.

"If you want real change, give people the idea that something they want is in their grasp," Coriolanus said, leaning back in his chair, watching Lucy Gray, "And you'll see it."

"I know how to lead my people, son."

Coriolanus swallowed back a snort. If you had to tell people that, it was categorically false.

It made Coriolanus's life so much easier; his path to power was clearing in front of him, like someone wiping their hand across a fresh snow, to find the cobblestone path underneath.

And Korbin was just handing it to him on a platter.

"Life finds a way wherever you go," Coriolanus said as his final statement, now more sure of it than ever.

He wondered how long it would be until people began following Lucy Gray and decorating their own jumpsuits in extra embroidered thread, similar paintings, or hair ribbons as closures.

And, if Korbin was a leader who knew what he was doing, he'd let them.

However, Coriolanus hoped for his own sake and his future presidency, he'd be too tightfisted and try to quash it.

His chances of this were good. Korbin hated Coriolanus for a name and a father he didn't even know, and Coriolanus bet all his meager wages that he'd do anything to piss Coriolanus off, including going against 'advice'.

Coriolanus wondered how difficult it would be to have Lucy Gray encourage freedom of expression, such as to get her fellow kitchen ladies to try their hand at modifying their jumpsuits.

Coriolanus drank his water, wishing it was moonshine. Someone here had to know how to make it, didn't they?

Anyway, Coriolanus considered if he put real effort toward it, he could probably get it a fashionable thing going in about six months. Maybe three if he truly had Lucy Gray helping him.

And Korbin would crack down on it, becoming the bad guy in history.

It just depended on how early Coriolanus wanted him unseated.

No, better to hold off. Coriolanus needed to know who the next front-runner was before he really began in earnest. Coriolanus wasn't arrogant enough to think that a year of residence here made him eligible in the hearts and minds of District 13 citizens to become their next President.

That would take years. Years Coriolanus was very fine with waiting.

Rather, he needed to know if the next likely president was going to be of any use to him, or if Coriolanus would need to undermine him the way he was slowly digging the hole underneath Korbin.

While any President of 13 was theoretically his enemy, it didn't mean that some seat-warmers couldn't be of service to his final plans.

However, Coriolanus knew that he could go into work tomorrow, raving about his wife's brilliant performance or how beautiful her painting was, and not seem at all plotting or manipulative for it.

In fact, he should, as a husband, laud his wife.

And he'd boast about how they barely slept at all last night because they were too busy celebrating.

Why, don't you want that for your wives? Don't you want to be too tired to work, because your wives feel so fulfilled that they basically press you into the bed, begging for another, and another, and another, until your limbs are deadwights and you can't think of anything but slumber?

"My wife is something else," Coriolanus said with a low whistle, "Isn't she, Mr. President?"

As though she could hear his low tone over the wide expanse, Lucy Gray turned, winking at Coriolanus in the corner as she leaned into the microphone.

"Now, for my last song here, I wanna sing something special for ya'll…it's a song for my husband in the Coriolanusner, called 'Pure as Driven Snow'. I know you probably aren't lucky enough to see snow but trust me…" She caught his eye, grinning mischievously, "It's really something else. I'm a lucky son of a gun to get to witness snow in its true form."

Coriolanus grinned openly, pride catching fire deep in his chest, rising to make him feel seen. Seen in a way he didn't think anyone ever would, without reservations, without subterfuge, without hiding.

Even Tigris hadn't known every facet of him.

Lucy Gray saw the worst of him and she was still here.

Wasn't that something truly incredible?

Out of all the people he could be stuck with, in a fake marriage, somehow…he wasn't displeased it was Lucy Gray Baird.

Somewhere, he knew that meant something bigger than he was ready to admit out loud.