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2023-11-26
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2023-12-04
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Silver Platters

Summary:

“'Sejanus, at least you have a life. So these next four years have you stuck under the thumb of Dr. Gaul? Use that time to come up with a plan for what happens in that fifth year. So your father is disappointed in you? Use that as an opportunity to do what you want without fear of his judgment. View this as a key, not a shackle.'

The words are spoken matter-of-factly, as if this is the most obvious solution in the world. And perhaps to Coryo, ever the pragmatist, it is. Sejanus can feel the tension dissipate from within him as a chuckle, the first in weeks, leaves his lips unbidden.

'You make it sound so easy.'

'Maybe it’s not,' Coryo agrees. 'But when has something like that ever stopped you?'"

OR

Rather than allowing his son to be sent to the districts as a Peacekeeper, Strabo Plinth convinces Dr. Gaul that his son can be better monitored in the Capitol. This changes everything and also changes absolutely nothing at all.

Notes:

I read The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes and immediately fell in love with Sejanus within the first five pages of meeting him. Ever since finishing the book, I wanted to explore what his life might have looked like had he lived. This is my first time trying to write a multi-chaptered fic since I was a child on FF.net, but as soon as I started outlining I knew that this had to be much bigger than my initial one-shot idea. I'm going to tentatively slate this as having 7 chapters based on how I've broken it up in my outline, but we'll see what actually ends up happening as I write it.

I tried to keep things as canon and in character as possible, but we'll see how this goes!

(Title of the fic and each chapter taken from "Silver Platters" by Les Gold)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Looking for an Answer

Chapter Text

By the time Senjanus hears of his best friend’s return to the Capitol, Coryo has already been back for a week. The information comes from Ma, passed to her by Tigress during an unexpected meeting in town earlier that afternoon. Apparently the boy had been granted an honorable discharge from the Peacekeepers under the condition he intern under Dr. Gaul throughout his time at the University.

At the news, Sejanus wants nothing more to run to the Citadel and catch Coryo walking out of the building. He wants nothing more than to squeeze him in an airtight hug and ask him every detail of what’s happened since the end of the Games. He wants nothing more than to tell him of every development that’s occurred within his own life in these past long weeks without Coryo.

He wants nothing more than to see his best friend, but he knows his dreams of such a reunion are impossible. Sejanus is under his own sort of probation, the same as Coryo.

His father has never had difficulty bribing his way out of certain trouble before, and his problem son was no exception to this. A new laboratory and gymnasium had smoothed over any mention of “treason” in the same sentence as Sejanus Plinth. Still, there were consequences that needed to be had. Less public, and less permanent consequences, but consequences nonetheless.

Originally the suggestion was for Sejanus to follow his classmate into the Peacekeepers. Sejanus had almost felt giddy at the proposal “Yes! Go! Let me follow Coryo and get away from this suffocating Capitol!” but his father had other plans. He argued that he moved his family from the districts for a reason and that, under no circumstances, would he allow his son to return and squander the immense opportunities the Plinth name now held.

And so a deal was struck, a handsome recurring donation was to be sent to the Gamemakers’ office biannually and, in exchange, Sejanus Plinth could remain in the Capitol. With a few key luxuries taken from him, of course. 

The first, and most important, was Sejanus’ freedom of movement. For the next four year of his life, the only places he would be allowed to be were his parents’ apartment and the University, once classes began in the autumn. He was to be a model student, never voicing dissent for the Capitol or for the Games. Any further disobedience would earn him a one-way ticket to one of the outer districts for the remainder of his life.

Sejanus was tempted to break his house arrest that very evening he first heard the news. That, or he would jump from his bedroom window to the streets below. Either one would be an escape for him. To not even be allowed to speak his mind? To be condemned to be nothing more than a doll, expected to sit silently lest he be punished? To be expected to keep this up for years on end? It was a hell designed for him specifically. 

But then he thought of Coryo’s words: “Maybe you could make changes, too. Good ones. Maybe if you don’t, a lot more people will suffer.” That promise, that belief in him stopped him. It stopped him more than Ma’s tears and begging, or his father’s scolding punctuated with open palms ever could. Sejanus could keep his head down for the next four years if it meant he would have access to a University education and—much more importantly— his father’s money at the end of it.

Knowing that Coryo is back in the Capitol, though… that tests his resolve for the first time in weeks. 

Coryo has been Sejanus’ rock since the age of eight. He still remembers the way the boy had refused to push Sejanus around, even when the rest of their class had. He remembers handing out birthday treats at age ten that the rest of his peers threw away, but Coryo steadfastly held onto and chewed slowly, as if to savor every moment of it. He remembers a young Coryo who, while never explicitly inviting him, made it abundantly clear he would not turn him away should he choose to sit with him at lunch. 

All he can remember is Coryo’s kindness and compassion towards him, over and over and over again and right now he just wants to feel it one more time.

Sejanus stays true, though. Instead of rushing down the flights of stairs and out into the open streets like he so desperately desires, he pens a letter. He tries to remain composed in his missive, but he cannot help the excitement and, admittedly, the desperation that seeps into his words. He doesn’t even proofread—something he will certainly be hearing about when Coryo responds—before he’s licking the envelope shut and urging one of the maids to run it to the nearest post office.

He has no doubt in his mind that Coryo will respond to his letter, only if it will ever reach him in the first place. He knows that there is a high likelihood any letters bearing his name are being monitored, at least for the time being. He’s not that naive, no matter what some might think. 

He has a hard time sleeping that night, anticipation in knowing his Coryo is the closest he’s been since the start of this horrible nightmare. 

 

 

Days pass, and just as Sejanus is giving up hope that Coryo has received his letter, the intercom within the Plinth’s spacious apartment buzzes. The building’s doorman informs the family that there’s a visitor here for Sejanus and, before the man can even finish his sentence, Sejanus is telling him to let him up. Even without a name, he knows that this has to be Coryo.

In the two minutes it takes for his visitor to ascend the elevator, Sejanus does his best to make himself presentable. For the first time in his weeks of house arrest, he’s thankful his father insists that he get himself dressed each morning. Even now, the slacks and sweater he’s wearing will do little to impress Coryo, who’s always had a taste for the finer, though still sensible, fashions of the Capitol. Still, it is much better than nothing. He smooths out wrinkles up until the moment the maid delivers his guest to his door.

Standing before him is his best and truly only friend, Coriolanus Snow. He’s dressed sharply, as to be expected, but even underneath the new clothes, Sejanus can tell that he’s built up mass. Peacekeeper training certainly did him some good. Where before Coryo was lines and angles, a sharpness meant to push people away, his new physique suggests the power to back up the implied threat that getting close to him held. Still, that is not the change that most grabs Sejanus’ attention.

“Coryo, your curls!” At Sejanus’ comment, Coryo brings his hand to his head, as if to run through the hair he no longer has. As Sejanus approaches his friend, he has to repress the desire to do the same. Sejanus had carded his hands through those curls back when his friend was passed out in the hospital after the arena bombing. The change is startling and he wants to know just how this difference feels. 

Instead, he leaves a respectable distance between them. Close enough for contact, but not initiating it himself. The corner of Coryo’s mouth twitches into a small smile of bemusement. 

“Ah, yes. They shaved me back in Twelve, to keep me within regulation.” 

“It suits you.” That’s not saying much. Sejanus thinks that his friend has the confidence and the face to pull off just about anything, even the craziest Capitol trends.

“It suits a Peacekeeper, which I am not. Tigris says it should be back to an acceptable length before school starts and will be back to how it was come winter,” Coryo says, but not without a twinkle in his own eye, revealing just how the compliment has pleased him. He then claps a hand on Sejanus’ shoulder, “It’s good to see you, Sejanus.”

“It’s good to see you too, Coryo. When I heard from Dean Highbottom and Dr. Gaul that you had been sent to the districts I- I didn’t know what to think. All we heard is that you had apparently cheated to help Lucy Gray win the Games and thus you wouldn’t be graduating with us. Lysistrata tried to ask more questions, but the subject wasn’t one that invited much discussion.”

“And yet, I somehow ended up with a diploma anyway.”

Sejanus feels the heat rise up the tips of his ears at the acknowledgement. “You were one of the best students in our class. It didn’t seem fair that I got to graduate and you didn’t, considering we were found guilty of the same treasonous crime against the Games. You said to use my father’s money for good, and I figured helping you was a good place to start.”

“Dr. Gaul told me as much. I need to thank both you and your father’s generosity, both then and now.”

“Now?” Sejanus cocks his head. What on earth could he be talking about? A week ago Sejanus hadn’t even known he was in the Capitol, let alone that he was in a position to be helped. If anything, Coryo was helping him right now, just by showing up.

“Your father didn’t tell you?” At Sejanus’ wordless shake of his head, Coryo purses his lips. It’s an old habit of his, one that he doubts the boy even knows he has, but it voices his displeasure clear as day. There is silence for a few moments as Coryo seems to weigh the benefits of letting him in on whatever dealings he and his father have. “When I was forced to enlist, my family’s assets were seized. The Grandma’am and Tigris were evicted from our apartment, and Tigris’ work with Fabricia was no longer something to fill her days with, but rather a means for survival. Even now that I’ve been pardoned, they haven’t returned anything. I have to imagine that it’s a part of my punishment.”

Sejanus’ heart aches for his friend. He knew what it was like to have your home wrenched from you. Their circumstances differed greatly but it was still a loss to feel, nonetheless. 

“Somehow your father heard of this and approached me last week,” Coryo continues. “He offered to buy back the apartment for us outright, as well as pay for the taxes and any other needs we might have until I graduate from the University. Since my tuition is already paid for now, he said it could be a substitute for the Plinth Prize I had technically won. He said that even if the way I went about it was technically against the rules, I still deserved something for winning the Games.”

That’s something my father can relate to, Sejanus thinks bitterly, Earning money through dishonest means. Who cares how it happens, as long as you end up on top, right? The larger thought that follows, though, is this: Why didn’t he tell me?

His feelings must show on his face as Coryo supplies, “I’m sure he had a good reason for keeping it from you.”

“Oh he always does,” Sejanus snarks, turning away from his friend’s grip and striding towards the opposite end of the room. Coryo sighs and follows him towards the wall-length window, barely even a step behind him. 

“Is this about District 2 again?” There’s an undercurrent of frustration in Coryo’s tone. “You do realize that he was protecting you, bringing you here? If you had stayed there, your name would have been in those Reaping bowls. It could have been you in that arena? Is that what you’d prefer?”

Yes is the immediate thought. But then he remembers watching the first Games with his father when he was eight, clinging to him tightly, but being unable to look away as the children bashed each other’s skulls in with brick and rebar and whatever else they could get their hands on. He thinks of the way Brandy’s body had looked as it was hoisted up by crane and paraded through the Capitol. He envisions himself strung up, just as Marcus had been, and bile rises up his esophagus. He had experienced only a fraction of the terror of the Games with Coryo as they fled the tributes that night he made the mistake of sneaking into the arena and that was enough. 

“No,” Sejanus admits. “But that still doesn’t mean I have to agree with his decision.”

“No, I suppose you don’t. I’m just trying to remind you of his perspective and that he’s trying to give you the best life possible. Some people would kill to be in your place, you know.” 

Sejanus snorts at the sentiment. Yeah, he’s so privileged, he can’t even leave his own house. His only options for company are Ma, who he has already worried enough for one lifetime, the housestaff, the majority of which had had their tongues cut out and probably wouldn’t respond even if they could, and his father, who seemed to oscillate between the extremes of constant lecturing or ignoring him completely. His life is a far cry from the luxury promised to him ten years ago. 

“Just look at me, Coryo, locked up in my gilded cage. You can’t tell me that this is a life worth leading.” Sejanus looks out to the streets below and can’t help the stab of envy he feels at the people walking below, chattering without a care in the world.

Sometimes at night, when the image of Bobbin’s fractured skull are too strong and the morphling doses too weak, Sejanus wishes he were Capitol born and raised. It would make his life easier, the thinks, to view those in the district as inferior like so many of his classmates do. He wouldn’t be in this predicament, wouldn’t have guilt and shame and fury seared into him and constantly boiling over into righteous fury if he didn’t have so much goddamn sympathy for those thrown into the arena. He could pretend the districts didn’t exist for most of the year, and then cheer at their children’s deaths the other portion. He could be friends with his classmates and get along with the other citizens. He could be the Capitol’s definition of an upstanding citizen.

In these moments, he wishes that he could be ignorant of the districts’ plight, and that is the one piece of evidence Sejanus needs to know he is no martyr. 

Oblivious to Sejanus’ swirling thoughts, Coryo responds, “Sejanus, at least you have a life. So these next four years have you stuck under the thumb of Dr. Gaul? Use that time to come up with a plan for what happens in that fifth year. So your father is disappointed in you? Use that as an opportunity to do what you want without fear of his judgment. View this as a key, not a shackle.” 

The words are spoken matter-of-factly, as if this is the most obvious solution in the world. And perhaps to Coryo, ever the pragmatist, it is. Sejanus can feel the tension dissipate from within him as a chuckle, the first in weeks, leaves his lips unbidden.

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Maybe it’s not,” Coryo agrees. “But when has something like that ever stopped you?”

“Hmm, careful there. If you start being too nice, you’ll lose your reputation.” Coryo rolls his eyes at Sejanus’ playful ribbing, but otherwise doesn’t respond. “Oh, where are my manners? In all this excitement I seem to have forgotten them. Come and sit, Coryo. There’s so much for us to catch up on.”

Coryo agrees and so Sejanus ushers him to the sitting area in the corner of his room. They each take a seat across from each other in some too plush armchairs, picked meticulously by some interior designer the last time the room was renovated. They hardly see much use due to the fact that Sejanus has never had a visitor for himself before. Seeing Coryo sit in them though, his too perfect posture and his hands clasped politely in his lap, Sejanus can’t help but think they were made for him to be here with him. He wants to spend as long as he can, talking to Coryo and hearing his tales of District 12. 

First, though, is the most important question of them all:

“So, how is Lucy Gray?” 

Sejanus is expecting a lot of reactions from Coryo at the mention of the girl he risked everything for: unbridled joy at their meeting outside the Capitol, grief at the fact they were now separated again, maybe even anger at Sejanus for brining up a potentially sore subject so soon into their own reunion.

What Sejanus does not expect, however, is the look of abject disgust that crosses his best friend’s features. It’s only there for a moment. If he had blinked, he certainly would have missed it.

“I wouldn’t know. She hardly even wanted to speak with me once I finally tracked her down,” Coryo says, his expression now pinched and voice filled with hurt. It’s so real and vulnerable that it makes Sejanus question if he what he saw before was just his imagination. “Apparently I was nothing more than a pawn for her. Something to use to win the Games and go home.”

Something about the words strike Sejanus as odd. He never interacted with Lucy Gray much, but she always presented to him as someone genuine, someone you could trust. Even when her district mate, Jessup, attacked her in the arena, she had been reluctant to react with violence. 

But then he also remembers the way she had killed Treech, brining him into a hug before sinking a snake’s fangs into him. The way she had apparently poisoned Reaper, the boy who hadn’t hurt anyone in the arena, instead using his strength to honor the fallen rather than add to them. Perhaps some people were simply good liars.

“I’m so sorry…”

“I don’t need your pity, Sejanus.” Coryo retorts. It’s cold and so devoid of the easy tone he’s come to associate with his friend that Sejanus can’t help but recoil. It’s too much like his father. Too much like the “They don’t need your pity, Sejanus” stated flatly from above Sejanus’ hospital bed after the arena. 

Coryo winces at the reaction. Sejanus takes that as contrition enough. He knows his friend has to be stressed and certainly didn’t mean to snap. Coryo takes a moment to recompose himself and starts again, “I mean, please don’t feel the need to feel bad for me. I already have enough of that to go around.”

“It’s just… I empathize with you. I know how much you liked her.” How much you loved her.

“Yes, well, I suppose she’s my own lesson of sorts. About trust and giving it out freely to anyone looking for it.”

“You can always trust me, Coryo,” Sejanus says, the words tumbling from his mouth without thinking. Coryo’s eyes snap to his at the words. He doesn’t know why, but he feels he somehow feels he’s just made a mistake. To try and save his blunder, he continues, “You’ve been my best friend for more than half my life. And after pulling me out of that arena, I know just how much you care about me. I trust you with my life, and I know I haven’t done anything to return the favor, but just know that if it comes down to it, I will. Without hesitation, I will.”

He can feel Coryo evaluating him, looking for any hint of dishonesty. It makes Sejanus want to squirm, even though he’s telling the truth. Right now, there are only two people in the world that Sejanus trusts implicitly: his Ma and Coriolanus Snow.

And of those two, there’s only one person who might actually be able to give purpose to one Sejanus Plinth.

Coryo must find whatever it is he wants out of Sejanus, because his lips turn into one of his signature sharp smiles and he says, “Thank you, Sejanus. That means a lot to me.” Then, changing the subject in a way most others would fumble, but Coryo makes graceful,“How have you been after the arena, anyways? I couldn’t help but notice you were still limping.”

“Oh, I’m holding up.” It’s an obvious lie, Sejanus is sure. Certainly not one that will fool Coryo, but he doesn’t want to focus on his own problems. Not when they’ve already spent so much of the conversation doing just that. “I’m taking morphling for my knee most days, so it doesn’t hurt too bad.”

Coryo hums neutrally at this. “That injury’s over two months old. The doctor’s are still prescribing you morphling?”

Embarrassment creeps up Sejanus and he has no doubt his face is tinged red with it. “Well, uh, it was still hurting even after my original prescription ran out. My father didn’t like seeing me in so much pain so…” So he pulled a few strings and now Sejanus has a free line to a doctor willing to give him as many refills as he needs. Sejanus is sure that this wasn’t done out of some love for his son, but rather a misplaced sense of guilt. Or, even more cynically, Strabo was sick of waking to his son’s screaming from nightmares and hearing his cries to Ma for comfort each night. His father had never explained his reasoning, instead silently handing Sejanus the number to the doctor and pretending like he didn’t notice just how frequently packages from the pharmacy arrived at their door.

Coryo does not comment on the matter further. They are finally able to steer into lighter conversations. Coryo regales Sejanus with tales from Peacekeeper training, of rounding up Jabberjays and hunting the Mockingjays plaguing the forests of District 12. He also gives a glimpse into just what his internship with Dr. Gaul entails, though he’s kept from saying much due to the confidential nature of most of the experiments. Sejanus in turn tells him of life in the Capitol. His sharing is much less exciting, though he is sure to pass whatever important information he’s heard through the television, local newspapers, and even Ma. Coryo was always a bit of a gossip, even if he was loath to admit it, so Sejanus is sure he appreciates his thoroughness.

Soon enough an hour has passed and the maid is informing the both of them that dinner will be served within the next ten minutes.

“You should stay and eat with us. We have plenty to go around, and I’m sure both Ma and my father would be delighted to see you,” Sejanus suggests.

“Perhaps at a later date.” Coryo declines and it takes all of Sejanus’ willpower to not wilt under the words. Having his friend here, if only for an hour, has done wonders for him. He selfishly wants him to stay for as long as possible. “I do, however, have to use the bathroom before I leave. Could you show me the way?”

“Of course.” Sejanus points his friend to the nearest bathroom, his own personal ensuite. Once he’s finished up, Coryo finds his own way to the door and bids him farewell, promising to visit again by the time the week is up.

And if Sejanus notices that one of his bottles of morphling is missing that evening before he goes to bed, well, perhaps Coryo has his own nightmares to deal with too.

Chapter 2: Living Through Your Doses

Summary:

It's the first day of University and Sejanus runs into an unexpected, and unwelcome, acquaintance.

Notes:

Upped the total chapter count because I added to my outline while writing this chapter and realized I'd rather be over in my estimate than under. In fact, this chapter wasn't even in my original outline so, uh, hope you enjoy?

(Also changed fic summary because I didn't like the original snippet I picked for the summary. So if that looks different, that's why)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Approximately a week and a half after Coryo’s first house call, classes begin at the University. Sejanus could almost cry real tears at the change of pace. No longer is he confined to spend his days pacing the same square feet of the apartment or rereading one of the very few non-textbook, non-business related works that his family possesses. He will finally have a respite from it all.

This morning, Sejanus is a bundle of nerves. His sleep from the night before was even worse than usual. Morphling helped to quiet his head enough to actually get a full night’s rest, but it often left him still groggy and his thoughts fuzzy for a few hours after waking up. That never mattered during his house arrest, but he was hesitant to use them before such an important day.

Logically, Sejanus knows that his time at the University should be no different than his time at the Academy. He has no friends, other than Coryo, so it’s not like anyone will ask him questions about what he’s been up to these past months. He’s also fairly certain that Dr. Gaul and Dean Highbottom were the only authority figures who knew of his excursion into the arena and the punishment it had earned him, so there was no worry of his professors treating him any differently than his previous instructors had. Still, the idea of surveillance of any kind weighed on him. He intended to stay in line — even if the thought of sitting still and shutting up made his stomach squirm endlessly — but just one misstep could land him in the same spot as Clemensia Dovecote. He still isn’t sure exactly what she did to cross Dr. Gaul, but Coryo’s comments implying that she was the cause of his classmate’s “flu” were enough to make Sejanus wary.

He hopes, selfishly, that he won’t see Clemensia around at University.

Just before Sejanus can spiral too far into a list of potential punishments should he step out of line — would he rather be turned into an avox or mutated like Clemensia? — the intercom buzzes, letting him know his escort is here. Sejanus readjusts the collar of his new dress shirt one last time before he exits the apartment and makes his way to the ground floor of the building, his first time walking the path in months.

Upon his first step outside, Sejanus is hit with just how differently the air feels as it wraps around him. It’s indescribable, the way everything is so crisp and real and grounding. He’s opened his window plenty in his room, trying to pretend that closing his eyes and feeling the breeze on his face was an adequate substitute for the weekly walks in the park he used to take, but this is something else. He’s half-tempted to sit in the moment, just breathing and taking in the feeling of being outside, before he notices just who has come to pick him up.

“Good morning,” Coryo greets, the barest hint of a smile on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Sejanus blurts. He has half a mind to feel shame at his lack of etiquette, but he can’t help himself.

For what it’s worth, Coryo takes the outburst in stride, not missing a beat as he explains, “I’m to be your escort, this morning.”

“Escort?” Sejanus repeats dumbly.

“Yes, your escort. To and from classes each day.”

“But why? ”  

“Wow Sejanus, starting to sound like you don’t want me here,” Coryo chuckles. “I figured you would want to walk to school with a friend rather than an armed guard, but if you’d prefer it, I could talk to Dr. Gaul and I’m sure she’d be more than happy to-”

“No, of course that’s not what I meant!” Sejanus interjects, much too loud and much too quickly. “I’m happy to see you here, Coryo. God, I don’t think I could ever be upset seeing you. It’s just… how?”  

“Ah, that, well,” Coryo’s lips turn into a conspiratorial smirk, like he’s letting Sejanus’ in on a secret nobody else is privy to. “I spoke with Dr. Gaul about it. The original idea was to send a Peacekeeper with you, but that would be much too conspicuous. At that point, it would draw too much attention and too many questions. I suggested that I would be a much better alternative. We are friends, after all. Certainly it wouldn’t turn any heads for the two of us to be seen walking to and from school together.”

Sejanus’ heart soars. Coryo has always been very sparing in his usage of this word “friend.” He had used that term, back in the arena, but emotions were heightened and it was a special exception. Here, though, to hear it spoken so casually? It takes all of Sejanus’ power to not break into a toothy grin.

“Certainly,” Sejanus confirms.

“Anyway, we should probably make our start. I really would prefer not to be late on the first day.”

Sejanus nods and the two fall in step as they make their way to the University. The entire twenty minute commute they chat about nothing at all. It helps to eliminate any of the remaining tension he had been feeling earlier. Coryo always puts him at ease. It’s something of a skill of his, he supposes. By the time they reach the University, the two wave each other off and Sejanus braces himself for the day ahead.

 

 

The day goes well, or at least as well as was to be expected. He shares his morning core classes with many of his same classmates from the Academy, though Coryo is notably absent due to his internship with Dr. Gaul. None of them are subjects that particularly interest him; in fact, based purely on the syllabi handed to him, he knows that he’ll be biting his tongue more often than not in discussions of pre-war Panem history and neoclassical Panem literature. However, the afternoon allows for a bit more opportunity for challenge.

His father is under the impression he will be studying either military strategy of business. It was an unspoken expectation, ever since Sejanus was little, and it’s also an expectation that Sejanus knows he had to break. He hasn’t told his father yet, but he changed his schedule to put him on a pre-medicine track. He cannot fathom ever taking over his father’s munitions empire. Just the act of spending his family’s bloodstained money is often enough to make Sejanus sick to his stomach. The prospect of spilling that blood himself? It’s unfathomable.

He wants to help people. That’s all he’s ever wanted to do. And this is the only path Sejanus can see for himself where he can tread the oceans of guilt that threatens to drown him completely. 

After his last class finishes, he packs his things and dutifully waits for Coryo on the bench the two of them had agreed upon that morning. It’s in the inner courtyard of the main building, filled with beautiful flowers and trees that are already starting to tinge red with the autumn weather. Sejanus is alone here, and so when the telltale footsteps of Dean Highbottom sound out on the cobblestone, there is no doubt that they are coming for him.

Despite the knowledge that Sejanus has done nothing to break the rules of his punishment, he can’t help the way his heart races at Highbottom’s presence. There is no reason for the man to take the time out of his day and make the walk from the Academy to the University just to see him. There has to be something wrong.

“Good afternoon, sir.” Sejanus stands and extends his arm for a proper handshake. A handshake that is ignored as Highbottom breezes past him and pulls himself to sit on the bench. He gestures for Sejanus to retake his seat as well, and so he obliges.

“Hello, Mr. Plinth,” 

Sejanus fights the grimace that he so desperately wants to make. “Sejanus is fine, sir.” Highbottom casts a look his way, but doesn’t comment further.

“Yes, well, Sejanus,” Highbottom crosses leg and rests props his head in his hand, giving Sejanus his full attention. “How has your first day of University treated you?”

Of all the things Sejanus was expecting from Highbottom, a standard inquiry into his day was not on his list.

“It was good,” Sejanus says slowly, cautiously. 

“Do you have any idea on which class might be your favorite?”

“The introductory course for anatomy with Dr. Asclepiades seems interesting,” Sejanus provides, wishing he would just get to the point already. “I feel like I’ll learn a lot this semester.”

“Good, that’s good. Boys your age should be focusing on your studies.” 

“Right,” Sejanus agrees, and then, because he’s growing just a bit annoyed with Highbottom’s lack of point to the conversation and he needs an outlet for his insolence, “Not like there’s much more for me to be focusing on, anyways.”

“Yes, well, I did think the punishment was a bit harsh. But it did keep you from shipping out and following that friend of yours, at least for a time.” Under his breath he mutters something too low for Sejanus to make out completely, but sounds suspiciously like “Now if only the cockroach didn’t find his way back here.”

“There would have been worse fates.”

Highbottom gives a full laugh, “Worse fates than a Snow? I doubt it?” And that’s Sejanus’ last straw.

“Why do you hate Coryo?”

“Pardon me?”

“You heard me. Why do you hate Coryo?” Sejanus tries his best to keep the steel out his tone. He’s not sure he succeeds. “He’s never caused trouble, at least not before the Games with Lucy Gray, but you hated him even before then. You’ve been looking for an excuse to get rid of him, and now that it didn’t work, you’re going to try again.”

“You don’t know anything.” Highbottom’s hands shake in his lap, which should be good enough reason for Sejanus to stop, but he foolishly keeps pushing.

“Then explain it to me. Because I know that Coryo is smart. He’s always been top of our class, but he also never lets that get to his head. He’s willing to share credit where its due, but also take credit when it’s earned. He’s brave and he’s kind too. He saved me from that arena. Without him, I’d be dead.”

“Do you know why he saved you? It’s because Dr. Gaul made him.” He says it like it’s a “gotcha.” It’s not.

“I’m not stupid. I already knew that. Ma told me all the details about what Dr. Gaul and you forced Coryo to do that night. But it doesn’t change what he said to me when he was in there. Or how he tried to help me carry out Marcus’ body,” Sejanus knows he’s veering into dangerous territory now, explicitly referencing how he wanted to bring Marcus out that night for a proper burial, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s soaked with a white hot fury at the accusation Highbottom is making at his savior. “He didn’t need to do all that, but he did because he cares about me. He’s probably the only citizen of this godforsaken Capitol who does.”

“ I’m trying to help you,” Highbottom’s face is pulled taut and he shifts his posture to something much more rigid and imposing. “He is not. Tell me, why do you think Dr. Gaul allowed him to accompany you to campus this morning?”

“Well, because it would be suspicious if I arrived-”

“Arrived with an armed guard at your heels,” He finishes for Sejanus. “In that case, though, they could have sent someone in plain clothes. Or, well, I suppose they did. You are aware that your dear friend Coriolanus has Peacekeeper training, correct? Training that includes the use of a firearm?” 

Well, obviously Sejanus wants to say. He has no delusions about the type of activities Coryo engaged in when away. All Peacekeepers were rigorously trained with both a pistol and a rifle. His father had contracts to supply those weapons and the ammunition that went with it. 

Instead of saying this, though, he nods.

“What do you think would happen, if you were to try and run away, then? If, say, two years from now you decide there’s something else out there worth breaking your set home to University schedule for?”

“I wouldn’t. I don’t plan on running away.” Highbottom shoots him a looks that says he clearly doesn’t buy that and continues on as if Sejanus had never spoken.

“I know what he would do. He would shoot you in the back without hesitation.”

“He would never!”

“Oh, sure he’d cry and moan about how bad he feels about it afterward,” He barrels forward. “Say he didn’t have a choice and that you forced his hand. He’d grieve for you, at least publicly. But he would never, ever regret it. Because to him, in that situation, it would have been him or you, and a Snow never picks the option that doesn’t end up with him on top.”

The implication makes Sejanus sick. Coryo has never been anything but sacrificial for him. Coryo has killed for him, an act he certainly didn’t deserve. Even now, he hates himself for putting his best friend in that position in the first place. The thought of doing that to Coryo intentionally? It’s revolting.

“I would never make him choose,” Sejanus whispers. “I would never make him choose between him or me.”

“Even then, the day will come where someone puts that choice in front of him. And the outcome will still be the same.” Highbottom blows out a breath, perhaps in an effort to calm himself. It doesn’t appear to work, but he continues, “Did you know that the thing you loath so much, the Hunger Games, they started out as a class project.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of their history.” Sejanus says, confused at the sudden change of topic.

“Hmm, perhaps not. After all, they were never meant to actually be real.” At Sejanus’ questioning look, Highbottom begins weaving his tale, “It was my final year at the University and Dr. Gaul had an assignment for us. Well, I was failing her class, since my loathing of her made participation impossible. We paired off for the final project, so I was with my best friend — one Crassus Xanthos Snow. The assignment was to create a punishment for one’s enemies so extreme that they would never be allowed to forget how they had wronged you. It was like a puzzle, which I excel at, and like all good creations, absurdly simple at its core. The Hunger Games. The evilest impulse, cleverly packaged into a sporting event. An entertainment. I was drunk and Crassus got me drunker still, playing on my vanity as I fleshed the thing out, assuring me it was just a private joke. The next morning, I awoke, horrified by what I’d made, meaning to rip it to shreds, but it was too late. Without my permission, he had given it to Dr. Gaul. He wanted the grade, you see. I never forgave him.

“It was never meant to be anything more than theoretical. And who but the vilest monster would stage it? After the war, she pulled my proposal out, and me with it, introducing me to Panem as the architect of the Hunger Games. That night, I tried morphling for the first time. I thought the thing would die out, it was so ghastly. It didn’t. Dr. Gaul took it and ran, and she has dragged me along with it for the last ten years.”

The further along he gets in his recollection, the worse the far away look in his eyes gets. After a few moments, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bottle of morphling. Sejanus has never thought too deeply about Dean Highbottom’s morphling addiction, but seeing the way his pupils constrict as the drops hit his tongue and the way all the tension in his shoulders dissipates… he knows the feeling well.

“So you see now, young Sejanus, why I am so sure that your friend will do the same to you. When Snow lands, it freezes everything it touches. Indiscriminately.”

The words spin in Sejanus’ head. It’s too much to process all at once. The fact that the Hunger Games — the bane of his existence — almost didn’t exist. That the only reason they did exist was thanks to his best friend’s father. However, amidst the whirlwind, Sejanus’ mind clings to one thing:

“So… so you’re saying that just because his father was cruel so many years ago, then Coryo is also destined to be the same way?”

“I see Crassus in Corionalus. I see his ambition and drive, his hunger hidden under it all. I fear that hunger will swallow you up if you’re not careful, just as it did me. It’s in his nature.”

Sejanus’ hands tremble in anger. The notion that Coryo, his friend, was doomed to repeat the mistakes of his father for the the simple fact that they shared DNA was ludicrous. And where would that line of thinking lead when applied to Sejanus? Was he to become his father, someone who throws away everything in the name of his own selfish goals? Someone who didn’t care how others viewed him, as long as he was allowed to sit at the table?

No. He would never be that.

“You sound like Dr. Gaul, with all this talk of nature.” Sejanus says, his voice dangerous. It’s a low blow, with how clearly the man detests her, but he can’t find it in himself to care. 

Then, as if perfectly timed, Sejanus spots Coryo approaching them in the distance. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Dean Highbottom, I have to get home.” He grabs his satchel from off the bench and starts across the courtyard. Even when he reaches his friend, he does nothing to break his stride, instead continuing straight for the exit. He doesn’t think he can handle another minute around Highbottom.

To his credit, Coryo hardly hesitates at his odd behavior. He simply glances between Sejanus and Highbottom before turning to catch back up with his friend. He keeps from asking Sejanus anything until they’re out of the courtyard and off campus, though not much farther than that. Coryo has always been more of an observer than anything, trying to gather as much information as possible before weighing in on a topic. It’s something Sejanus appreciates about him. Still, silent observation doesn’t help him when he wasn’t even there to see the whole picture.

“What did Dean Highbottom want?” Coryo asks after five minutes of silent walking. Sejanus doesn’t try to suppress his snort.

“Nothing worthwhile.”

“Well, I would say it’s probably something, given how worked up it’s gotten you.”

“Yes, well,” Sejanus wants to spill everything, but Highbottom’s voice rings through his head.

“I know what he would do. He would shoot you in the back without hesitation.”

Without his consent, Sejanus’ eyes scan Coryo’s form for the telltale outline of a service weapon. He checks his waistband and torso for where he might conceal one, but the only thing he sees are the perfectly tailored pants and jacket. There are no out of place bulges or any hint that his friend is carrying a gun. Obviously. Because Coryo would never do that. He’s safe. 

He feels a stab of guilt at the fact he’s been manipulated to doubt his best friend so easily.

“Dean Highbottom was trying to warn me… about you.”

“About me?” The shock in Coryo’s voice is clear. “What on earth could I have done that would warrant a warning from Dean Highbottom of all people. If anything, you’re the bad influence on me.”

Sejanus cringes internally about the unintentional reminder of just how much Coryo has done and risked for him. Just how many times Coryo has risked himself for him and how Sejanus has been unable to repay him the favor. With all he’s done for him, Sejanus owes Coryo the truth.

“No, he, well, he told me a story about your father and him, back when they were about our age. Said that he saw a lot of you in your father and it was best I watch my back around you.” Coryo raises an eyebrow in a clear request that he elaborate and so he does. He tells him of the conversation he just had with the dean, taking care to leave out no detail. After he finishes, Coryo ponders it all for a few seconds before responding.

“I suppose that explains why he’s never liked me,” Coryo places a hand on Sejanus’ back, directly between his shoulder blades. He relaxes into the touch. “But also, I expect nothing less from Dean ‘High-as-a-Kite Bottom.’ All those years of sucking down morphling like punch must have turned his brain to mush.” Sejanus tries not to tense too much at the mention of morphling. Coryo doesn’t give any reaction, so he takes it as a win.

“I told him as much.” Sejanus huffs. “Probably against my better judgment. He holds my fate in his hands and I definitely angered him with what I said, I’d be surprised if he doesn’t add at another year to my sentence, best case scenario.”

“Well then it’s a good thing it’s Dr. Gaul who’s really running things. I doubt she’ll care much about your outburst, if she hears about it at all.”

“What makes you say that?” 

“Highbottom and Gaul hate each other. He has too much pride to run to her with every grievance, especially if it were about you defending me, her prized pupil.” At Sejanus’ incredulous look, Coryo adds, “Her words, not mine, of course.”

“I guess that’s good news. But god Coryo, I don’t know how I can do this. I thought I could bottle it all up, my anger, but I can’t. Even when it’s not related to the Games, I can’t keep it contained. The words come spilling out faster than I can stop them.”

“You’re going to have to learn, then, Sejanus,” Coryo says bluntly. “You’ve already gotten so many chances, more than anyone else would be afforded. Are you really going to waste it?” Then, he softens. “I know that it’s hard for you, but for both our sakes, you need to learn to control yourself.”

“For both our sakes?”

“We’re best friends, right?” The words once again light up something in Sejanus’ chest as he nods. “Dr. Gaul knows this. She also knows that rebels travel in packs. If you say enough to draw any more attention to yourself, you bring me under suspicion as well.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Sejanus admits quietly.

“I know,” Coryo removes his hand from Sejanus’ back and he tries to ignore the disappointment he feels at the lack of contact. “But I also know this has to be hard for you. So I have a proposal: any grievances you have, you tell to me.”

“But wouldn’t that be dangerous for you?” 

“What Dr. Gaul doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” He shrugs like Dr. Gaul is not a problem. Perhaps she isn’t, now that Coryo is apparently her “prized pupil.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Coryo…” 

“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” He laughs to himself, “Though I will admit, this offer is a bit selfish on my end.”

“How so?”

“I want to make sure you make it to graduation, and you yourself just admitted that wouldn’t happen without an outlet for your… less than permissible opinions. Once again, her words, not mine! I’m the safest option you have and we both know it, Sejanus.”

If Sejanus were a stronger man he would argue. He would tell his friend, no, he wasn’t going to allow him to put himself in danger on his behalf like this. Sejanus would figure out something on his own and not burden his best friend any further.

But Sejanus is not a strong man. He is a boy who is sad and scared and angry and has nowhere to put it all. His friend is offering him a solution, and it might be the coward’s way, but Sejanus never claimed to be brave. He acquiesces.

Coryo gives him a smile, much like this morning, only this time Sejanus is pretty sure he’s missing just what secret lies behind it.

 

 

A month later, the day of Sejanus’ nineteenth birthday, the news comes out that Casca Highbottom is dead. He was found unresponsive and with a morphling bottle in his hand. An overdose, according to the press.

Despite their last encounter, Sejanus can’t help but carve out a place for grief in his chest for the man. He was clearly suffering and clearly had no one to turn to. Nobody is saying suicide, but the thought passes through Sejanus’ own mind more than once in the aftermath. 

At the same time, the dean had been untrusting and paranoid in his final days. He had tried to approach Sejanus multiple times in the past month, always espousing the same rhetoric on why Coryo could not be trusted. About how he was doomed to repeat the cycle if he didn’t stop associating with the Snows. Sejanus had even started avoiding him after the first couple of times. There was nothing new to be added, and nothing he could say would ever shake his trust in his best friend.

And so, with his death, Sejanus vows that he will not end up like him; he and Coryo will not become the next Highbottom and Crassus Snow. 

He then drips three drops of morphling and allows himself to fall into a blissfully numb sleep.

Notes:

You ever think about how Coriolanus poisoning Highbottom is almost like a fucked up birthday gift? Like, Sejanus wouldn't like it but it sure is something that happened on his birthday!

But yes, because this one wasn't in my original plan I'm not as confident in the quality but I really wanted to write a conversation between Sejanus and Highbottom before he died. I choose to believe that, had Sejanus not been in District 12 when he was truly getting close to Coryo like in the books, he would have tried to warn him. Given Sejanus' own daddy issues though, comparing Coryo to his father as his main piece of evidence is probably the worst thing he could have done.

Also the portion of dialogue where Highbottom explains the true story behind the games is taken straight from the books, with slight modifications to fit the circumstances. In case that looks familiar and you're wondering why lol

Please let me know if you read and enjoyed! Like I said before, comments always make my day :)

Notes:

I do not have a set update schedule for this fic, but I am planning on working on it frequently! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed, as they're a great motivator for me (as long as they're not demanding updates), Also please feel free to point out any typos or grammar errors so that I can fix them. I do not have a beta reader and even though I do proofread before posting, something usually ends up slipping through the cracks.