Chapter Text
The morning was slow, and dew clung to the weakened glass of the windows in the Snow residence. Coriolanus felt groggy and run-down, though he would never admit it. He had barely slept, and the sleep that he did achieve was spent dreaming of the arena, and how he would get out of it. In his dream, Sejanus smiled at him from his place in the circle, and Coriolanus felt bile rise in his throat at imagining the blood soon to be on his hands. He couldn't let the guilt get to him preemptively.
Tigris trailed her fingers across Coriolanus’ shoulder as she passed behind him to stir the pot of watery mashed potatoes they were cooking for the week. “How are you feeling, Coryo?” She asked, her voice light and pitiful. It made Coriolanus want to spit at her feet.
“Never better,” he swallowed his pride and grinned at her over his shoulder, going back to staring out the window. He stared at the houses lit up in daylight, mindlessly spending their money on electricity and air conditioning and anything else they could think of. He felt bitter. He felt cruel. He felt like he could win the Games.
“You have to go to the Academy for more instruction about the Games today, right?” Coriolanus nodded at Tigris’ question. She sighed, “I wish they weren't taking up all of your time before they send you in. I want you to spend time with me and Grandma’am.”
Coriolanus’ expression twisted into something upsetting, “You don't think I’m going to make it out? What changed overnight?”
“I know you'll make it, Coryo,” Tigris bit her cheek, “but you'll be different on the other side of it all.”
Coriolanus swallowed the saliva in his mouth and muttered four words in response, “Snow lands on top.”
—
The walk to the Academy was damp and sticky, summer showers drizzling from the sky and leaving an unpleasant feeling in the air. Coriolanus found it all to be very ironic. The halls of the Academy were uncharacteristically quiet, some of his classmates looking restless, others excited. He took his seat in between Clemensia and Sejanus.
“How did you sleep?” Sejanus asked, gently.
Coriolanus shrugged, “You?”
“Not well, no.”
Clemensia cut in, “Did anyone sleep well? Honestly, Coryo, who isn't nervous about this?”
Festus leaned over from his seat a row behind them, “I think they're lying about it. It's a test to see who will rebel against the Capitol, that's all. They won't send us in.”
As Coriolanus opened his mouth, a harsh tap on the microphone at the front of the chamber echoed off the walls. Dr. Gaul once more stood in front of the room, a cruel smile spread across her face. “Today’s agenda,” she clapped her gloved hands together, “will be to go through the new, and dare I say improved, Games for you students. The first thing we will discuss is the changes in the rules. As you were previously told, the Games will last a total of fourteen days. Whoever is still alive at the end of the slotted time will be released. If there is one Victor, they will get the Plinth Prize and donation fund. If there are multiple, the money goes to nobody. Understood?”
The students murmured, but nobody protested. Coriolanus felt like a fool sitting next to so many people who weren't paying the slightest amount of attention when money was involved. His hands itched to wrap around their throats and squeeze.
“I also mentioned that we have a new arena for the Games to take place in. You will all be transported by bus when it is time to tour, as it is located outside of the Capitol in case of security breaches. There is also a training facility on the arena’s campus for you Tributes to familiarize yourselves with weapons and first-aid. We wouldn't want anyone getting too hurt, would we?” Gaul laughed. Nobody else joined in. “Donations are simple. All… almost all of your families have already sent in money, but you will also have a chance to gain donations from the public. After the period for training ceases, you will have televised interviews and opportunities to show off your skills. Capitol citizens may send in funds to whoever they place their bets on. The people that receive the highest bets of survival in these interviews will be assigned to a previous Victor of the Games from the Districts to advise them.”
Coriolanus sighed as his classmates raised their voices in outrage. “That would give an unfair advantage!” He heard Arachne moan from behind him.
“Yeah!” Felix agreed, “We aren't just a game to be gambled on!”
Gaul chuckled, “Well, Mr. Ravinstill, you are. That is why you are a Tribute.”
—
The Tributes were given three hours to return home and pack to travel to campus. Coriolanus took his time walking home. Sejanus accompanied him for half of the journey, then split off to head to his perfect little mansion. Coriolanus couldn't help but feel jealous. Not only did Sejanus have an obscene amount of wealth, but now he and his classmates had to fight to the death over District money. It was almost laughable.
The stairs creaked under his weight as he walked up to the penthouse, a final reminder of his poverty before he entered a new era. He closed the door gently and crept to his room, throwing what little possessions he had into a suitcase that he stored under his bed. He held the shirt Tigris had made him for the Reaping in his hands and clenched his jaw. Soon he would buy a whole closet full of them. Soon he would run Panem.
Tigris leaned against his door frame and watched him pack his things. He turned and flinched when he saw her, eyes full of tears and cheeks rosy from emotion. He stood from his position on the floor and wrapped her in his arms. She cried into his school uniform, what little makeup she could afford staining his left shoulder, but it didn't matter anymore.
“I promise you I’ll get out.”
Tigris sniffled, “I know you will.”
“I’ll be the same as I am now.”
She lifted her hand to his face and rubbed his cheek, “Oh, Coryo.”
He leaned into the touch and frowned, the sadness from her sinking into his skin and filling his head with doubt. What if he died in the arena? What if he saw something so disturbing that he lost his mind? What if Sejanus killed him first?
He pushed his thoughts down and stood strong in front of her, “I don't lie to you.”
—
The bus was cramped and hot, and Coriolanus nearly felt bad for the Tributes that had to be transported all the way from the Districts.
Sejanus had sat down next to him as soon as he had spotted him in the final row of seats, completely missing the hint that Coriolanus wanted to be left alone. He carried multiple bags down the aisle, bumping into his classmates and earning glares as he refused to apologize for his disruptions.
“Well, we’ve made it this far, right?” Sejanus broke out into something between a grin and a grimace and Coriolanus let air blow from his nose in response to the attempted joke.
“I'm not sure how you can be so lighthearted right now, Plinth.”
“Well,” Sejanus shrugged, “I always knew the Capitol would kill me. I suppose it's only right that I go out like a District would.”
Coriolanus looked away. It was one thing for Sejanus to refer to himself as a District, but his classmates too? He truly had no decorum.
“I thought you said they wouldn't kill us?”
“It's harder to believe that the closer it gets.”
“You're strong, Sejanus,” Coriolanus whispered, “you can fight. It's obvious from looking at you.”
As Coriolanus looked to Sejanus to prove his point, he noticed a slight red flush on the boy's cheeks, “Thank you. But I know I won't be left alone. Who doesn't want to kill the District kid?”
I certainly do, “I don't want to kill you.”
“At least I have you,” Sejanus looked him in the eyes and Coriolanus felt something strange in his ribs.
He turned to look out of the window instead of looking at Sejanus. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel his palms sweating against his knees. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He felt like he had gotten himself into something much bigger than he had ever been in before.