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Chapter Text

Coriolanus Snow bloomed in spring.  

His presentation came swiftly, rearranging his insides, morphing them until his body was reborn with hardened, corded muscles lining his arms and stretching the expanse of his wide back. Even his legs grew a few extra inches. In his mouth, his teeth grew, though not obscenely large, but enough that he still nipped his tongue from time to time. 

The doctors said he would live longer now, too, by just a few more years than before, his body designed to withstand the sands of time. 

A knot grew at the base of his cock as well, for him to breed some girl in the Capital and create new generations of Snows when his bones turned to ash and dust. Diagrams and pictures showed him how to fuck, how to bite, how to mate.

Where to sink his teeth into, how to rut and make sure his knot locked in right, forcing his seed to take hold inside the womb.  

What parts of the body to touch to settle any unruly wife of his.  

Until Lucy Gray Baird, District 12 Tribute for the 10th Annual Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow imagined he’d find someone later in life. A sweet girl with a penance for baking and a gentle smile to match.

A soft-spoken thing who knew when to stay silent. 

Claiming an omega, the other end of the designation pole was written in his list of goals, and before the 10th Hunger Games, he could say he’d truthfully forgotten about it. There were more important things than mating. 

But then Lucy Gray Baird appeared on the Academy screens.  

Then, everything changed.  

Part I: The Mentor 

When he first laid eyes on Lucy Gray Baird, it was like a switch flipping in his brain, lights suddenly shining too brightly in a foreign part of his psyche, something new that burned with a fierce, territorial hunger budding to life. 

His lungs felt like they were being squeezed too tightly, and his fingers twitched against the crimson cotton on his thigh, fighting the urge to dig his nails between his ribs and pull free his beating heart in an offering to the Tribute on the screen, needing to present it to her as a showing of his undying devotion.

But that wasn’t enough. His gums salivated for the taste of her heart too.  Such violent thoughts took him by surprise.

He hardly listened to the excited murmurs of his classmates, of Sejanus, too focused on Lucy Gray striding through the District 12 crowd. When she slipped something down another girl's dress, hushed remarks rippled through his peers. But then the Mayor who, by the look of his poorly knitted pants, was a beta prancing as a stronger man, an alpha like Coryo, slapped Lucy Gray so hard she twirled in a dance and collapsed on the stage.  

I’ll make him eat those hands, and then his eyes next. Not that Coryo would ever venture beyond the Capitol, but if he did, he’d leave nothing of the Mayor but his shoddy trousers.  

On the screen, through the gray hue of the cameras, her trembling lips parted and from her lungs, soft, melodious songbird lyrics flowed through the room. She sang longer than any anticipated, taking a bow once her well of words dried up. 

Out of the corner of his eye, both Sejanus and Highbottom furrowed their brow. 

Two seats down, a girl snickered under her breath.  

“She won’t last the first five minutes.”  

“At least my tribute isn’t sickly like her.”  

He clenched his fists in his lap. Coryo couldn’t blame her for being underfed. Those in the Districts lived on rationed food and hope. 

Hope that the Capitol will send another cargo shipment of yeast and cured meats.  

Hope that the Capitol will fashion blankets for the freezing children dying in the streets.  

He hoped that his and Lucy Gray’s child would inherit her plump cheeks and doe brown eyes.  

“I see that look on your face.” Dean Highbottom’s monotone voice cut through his thoughts. Snow’s blue gaze found him in the crowd. “A songbird… an omega… what a waste.” 

Highbottom made his way over and stopped before Coryo. Somehow, the shorter man always looked down at him.  

“I’d say I pity you, Snow, but I detest being dishonest with my students.” Highbottom turned to leave, escaping the horrors of his creation. "Let's hope your songbird doesn’t croak before the Hunger Games even begins.” 

Coryo allowed himself to be ushered away by Sejanus, trying not to linger on thoughts of Lucy Gray but they festered like a disease infesting his crops. Every time he blinked, an image of the omega girl from the Districts tormented him with quivering lips that lulled him into a false sense of safety, promises and whispers on the tip of her tongue.

Throughout the day, he moved like a ghost with a half-cocked form, slipping through the walls unseen. Every question passed through him, so much that even Sejanus told him to go home early. 

Poor Sejanus wouldn’t understand the hunger Coryo had. 

No beta could. It was in an alpha’s blood to burn for the right omega. Is that what Lucy Gray was? The right omega? 

In the dead of night, once he’d pressed a kiss to Tigris and Grandma'am’s foreheads, Coryo stripped himself of his Academy uniform and flung it into a pile in the corner of his room. 

Is she a virgin? Has she let some mutt from that District slip between her legs and rut into her like a filthy beast?  

Standing in front of the mirror, Coryo flexed his arms and chest, running his fingers along the hard muscles lining his ribs. Each one trembled beneath his fingertips, and his snowy gaze traveled to the limp cock hanging between his thighs. Longer and thicker than average. The knot at the base only swelled within the throes of rut, but he assumed it too was larger than his classmates.  

Did those degenerates in District 12 even have knots?  

A chill ran through the house, much like a child seeking food and warmth from the bitter cold outside. It settled at his feet and traveled up to his neck, and like a viper, Coryo leaped into his bed and sank beneath his thin blankets, courtesy of Tigris stitching together smaller pieces of cloth. Between the stitches, his cousin's smell remained like a permanent brand of her stunning work. 

Coryo shut his eyes, preparing for a dreamless sleep but it seemed that not even in sleep could he be free of Lucy Gray. Behind his eyelids, he witnessed her all over again; her chapped lips sang her song, belting out her pitiful words. The greasy hair atop her head clung to the hollows of her neck. And her watery eyes shined.

His hips involuntarily thrust beneath the sheets as his cock filled with warm blood. He couldn’t control himself, not when he grabbed his cock tight and violently fucked his fist wishing it were a tight omega cunt, desperate to hear her high-pitched wails as he drove in deep enough for his cock to pierce her womb and fully mark her insides with his presence. 

The throbbing in his mouth turned unbearable, gums aching, cheeks pulsing. Wishing her tears were on his lips, the taste of her sorrow on his tongue. His hips spasmed and soft whimpers fell from his lips like a prayer for Lucy Gray’s touch.  

The rainbow colors of her dress shone in a kaleidoscope of reds, oranges, and purples. And in between each color was white. Like Snow. Even before meeting her, he already existed on her, needled between the clothes on her back. 

His gums itched to bite, to chew, to tear into flesh until it reached the bone, and even then, he still wanted more. Unless his eyes had deceived him, Lucy Gray didn’t have a mark on her pretty neck. Only sweat and dust remained there.  

Which was fine, he could live with that. Eventually, he’d bathe her in his saliva, his tongue burning a hole in her skin as he licked away her former life.  

He wondered what she would taste like.  

Like mine, I suppose.  

He turned into his pillow and bit down, hard. His canines tore through the fabric with ease, and he briefly dreaded asking Tigris to mend it tomorrow. There would be questions and half-cocked answers. The worry slipped away as today's events played again like a memory on repeat. 

Her singing. Her voice. Her body. Her beauty.  

Her. 

Lucy Gray.  

He came with a muffled yell, biting down hard enough to send a flare of pain through his gums. His hips jerked as come splattered across his sheets, staining them with his depravity. At least his knot hadn’t been able to form, or Coryo would’ve been forced to sleep on the sticky evidence. 

A high pitched whine rang through the room, and Coryo whimpered as the aftershocks shook his body. Heat poured off of him in waves. Lucy Gray would’ve thanked him for warming her, he’s sure. 

It took a few minutes for his heart to stop racing and his cock to soften, a few dribbles of come sticking to his pale thigh.  

Thoroughly debauched, he drifted off into a silent sleep. 

Look what you’ve done to me, Lucy Gray.  

Dean Highbottom told them all when the tributes would be arriving, but Coriolanus arrived first at dawn.

Birds flew overhead in no particular pattern, scattering like leaves in the wind. No other mentors joined him until the smoke from the train billowed close like an inkblot staining the cloudless sky. Tributes traveled like cargo on the tracks, not passengers ending a luxurious journey, but instead as animals arriving for slaughter.  

Coryo didn’t flinch when the train started to slow, sending a high-pitched wail through the ears of every mentor. And the tributes. They must have had it worse in there.  

He adjusted his uniform and ran a hand through his hair, hoping it looked exactly right. He wanted, no, needed to make a good impression on Lucy Gray. How could she survive if her mentor didn’t look the part? It was his role to fill, oversized shoes to step into, ones that would shadow the omega girl from District 12.  

One by one, peacekeepers started to drag out the tributes.  

A mousy girl came out first, hardly any fight left in her. Every time she opened her mouth, a horrific cough slipped out. They looked worse than he’d expected—missing one arm, an eye permanently shut, that hacking cough— not even the live feed had done them justice.

He pitied his classmates, minus whoever was mentoring the slim red-haired alpha girl with a hard jawline and freckled cheeks. 

She resembled a tiger ready to fight until its last breath.  

When Lucy Gray stepped off the cargo train, he moved without thinking. One leg after the other, eyes never straying from where she stood on wobbly knees. He drank in the sight of her in the flesh, her image untarnished by the static of the Academy screens.  

Her head barely came up to his shoulders, and if she tilted her face up, he doubted she could reach his chin without him leaning down. Her chin, on the other hand, jutted out slightly, and her chestnut brown hair still clung to his neck, an oily sheen shining on her scalp. She was exceedingly small, he decided, slightly too small for his liking.  

For a split second, he pictured her all in white. A veil covering his dirt-stained face but not enough to hide her eyes. Corset bound hips with matching gloves. Blood staining her neck. 

What a strange idea. Marriage. Mating. 

Sickly, his classmates called her. He couldn’t imagine that the Peacekeepers had given the tributes food for the long journey. His songbird's last meal had been her farewell song on stage.  

“Who are you supposed to be?” His songbird uttered under her breath. “I didn’t think they’d be inviting people just to meet us.”  

His nostrils flared, trying his best to commit her scent to memory.  

Grandma'am liked to recall the times before the war when food was plentiful, and the days were long and good. Memories of tables piled high with meats and fruits, fresh bread with butter. From the lemon tree, she used to pick fresh lemons and squeeze juice into a pitcher of tart lemonade. And in the spring, she picked flowers; wildflowers, daffodils, daisies, and roses. A stunning bouquet perfect for the dinner table.  

Similarly, in front of the Academy, in summer, flowers bloomed. On occasion, he’d sniff them on his way home. And when they had a cent to spare, the Snow family enjoyed a few glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade.

Some strange foreign feeling bubbled inside him, a painful hunger lining his insides, similar to what he’d felt after seeing Lucy Gray for the first time. It tickled its way to his gums and if he hadn’t been in more control, he might’ve snapped them at her.  

He found his voice after a few moments.  

“I’m your mentor.” A fair statement. “I do my best to take care of you.”  

“My mentor?” She laughed. “And how exactly does my mentor plan to take care of me? Unless you have something to eat, I doubt you’d be much help.”  

He already knew the answer but still asked, “Are you hungry?”  

From the corner of his eye, he saw a Peacekeeper go to grab Lucy Gray’s arm. “Most of us haven’t eaten in days.” Unkind hands jerked her to follow the other tributes. 

Like a mutt on a leash, Coryo followed.  “You don’t have to treat her that way. She’ll listen. They all will.” His words went unheard by the Peacekeeper.   

The rest happened too fast; following her and the tributes into the truck, staring down at the weaker creatures from the Districts. It surprised him that not one tried to go for his throat as soon as the doors shut. If the roles had been reversed, Coryo would’ve torn his mentor's throat out with his teeth. If you trap an animal, always expect it to bite. 

“He shouldn’t be here.”  

“We can teach 'em’ a lesson.”  

“Let’s kill him before they let us out.”  

“No.” Lucy Gray’s voice cut through the chaos. “He’s mine,” she said.  

Coryo’s gums ached as he imagined lunging for her and sinking his canines into the soft flesh of her supple neck, bonding them for life, her soul tied to his, and no matter when she went, he would follow. And if she ever ran, he would chase. 

None of the others in the truck moved until the world began to tilt at an angle, forcing them all to slide to the door.  

Coryo used his body to shield his tribute from the fall, their bodies rolling off the smooth floor of the trucks, forcibly bouncing off oversized jagged rocks lining the dirt floor. They rolled together, he tried to take the brunt of it but still felt her breath hitch every time the smell of her blood hit the air. 

Finally, they rolled to a stop.  

The tributes, his Lucy Gray, dumped into a zoo enclosure until the Games. Children watching, trying to stick their grubby fingers through the bars. His classmates gawked at his presence beside the District 12 tribute.

Outside the gate, Lucky Flickerman goaded them closer, asking questions. Coryo used his next breath to tell her his name, and as they walked forward, hand in hand, she said hers. 

Lucky said something along the lines of “What are you doing in there, young man? I don’t believe non-tributes are allowed in the enclosure. Unless you know something I don’t…” 

What a great question. However, surprisingly, Coriolanus couldn’t think of anywhere he would rather be than next to Lucy Gray.  

“What were you thinking, Coryo?”  

Across the room, Tigris pursed her lips. Her fingers played with the material in her lap, waiting for an answer.  

“I don’t know what you mean.”  

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re lucky nothing else happened to you. They could’ve killed you today.”  

And they would’ve, if not for Lucy Gray. Why they listened to her, he still didn’t know. She held no power over them, her small omega body with hardly an ounce of muscle. But still, they listened as she claimed him as hers.  

If they’d already been bonded, Lucy Gray’s feelings would’ve come to him naturally. He wondered what she was doing. Laying in the enclosure, no doubt, hungry and afraid. Waiting for the Games. 

He thought for a moment. “It was worth the risk, Tigris. She needed me.”  

“Who? Your tribute?” She shook her head. “I don’t want you to do something you may regret. She’s a person, Coryo, not just something to use and throw away. Imagine if you’d had your name picked.”  

He couldn’t imagine living in the Districts. 

“That would never happen to us,” he reminded his cousin. “I’ll never let anything happen to you and Grandma'am.”  

Slowly, his beta cousin crossed the room and laid a gentle hand on his cheek. “You’ve always looked out for us. I’m just returning the favor.” She laid her hand on his chest. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”  

Coriolanus smiled at his cousin with pity in his heart, pulling her into a hug. “I need you to trust me, Tigris.” He pulled back to look her in the eyes. “When this is all over, we’ll be back where we belong.”  

That night, Coriolanus snuck out to see Lucy Gray.  

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.” Behind the bars of the zoo enclosure, she crouched to her knees and watched him suspiciously. “Unless you have something to eat—”  

From within his coat pocket, he held out half of a turkey sandwich and a round golden oatmeal cookie from lunch. “For you. You said you hadn’t eaten in days.”  

Her eyes bugged out of her head, and he heard her stomach let out a growl. “Eat it, please.” He couldn’t take listening to her hunger. No alpha ever wants their omega to go hungry.  

She reached out to take it, then pulled back before her fingers could touch the slightly stale bread. “Is this a trick? Some sort of joke for you Capital folks?”

Her eyes skimmed the darkness over his shoulders, trying to spot anyone lingering in the distance, wanting to catch a glimpse of the high and mighty alpha feeding the lowly omega tribute.  

He shook his head. “I’d never do that to you, Lucy Gray.” He inched the food forward. “You need your strength if you want to survive here.”  

Her small fingers inched towards him, eventually taking the napkin of food. Her teeth tore apart the turkey sandwich, aggressively chewing and swallowing as if her life depended on it. She nibbled on the edge of the cookie.  

She spoke after a few moments of silence. “Why do you care if I live? No one else in the Capitol ever has.”  

Coryo inched closer to the enclosure, his desire to be closer to Lucy Gray overthrowing his rational mind, the part of him that knew her chances of survival were slim. 

“Because I need you to survive the games.” He pressed himself against the bars. “I need you to win.”  

Lucy Gray gulped. “Do you believe I can?”  

No. But hope never hurt anyone.  

“Yes, of course I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”  

“Why does it feel like you’re lying to me, Coriolanus?” God, the sound of his name on her tongue nearly killed him. “I don’t like liars,” she whispered. “But I like you.”  

Coryo reared back like he’d been slapped.  

“You smell like…” She tilted her nose so it poked out to the other side of the bars, taking a lungful of his scent. “Clove. Like a winter’s day, if I’m being honest. You’ve got all the right spices in you. It’s so sharp it almost burns my nose,” she snickered. “But I like it. Ain’t ever smelled anything like it before I got here.” Her burning eyes turned to him.   

“What do I smell like to you?” She tilted her head like a curious child. “I hope it’s something nice.”  

His answer came swiftly; “Flowers, Lucy Gray. You smell like every flower I’ve ever known. And lemons,” he added, “those too.”  

Her harmonious laughter rang. “Lemons?” She repeated. “Why on earth would I smell like those?”  

“You just do. Like the ones my Grandma'am talks about. Just like them.”  

Lucy Gray finished off the cookie, wiping her sticky fingers on her beautiful dress.  “I didn’t know alphas like you existed before today, Coriolanus. All the ones I’ve known have been just horrible. None of them smelled quiet like you, either. I guess that means you're special.”  

“I believe that honor belongs to you, Lucy Gray,” he said.  

In the distance, the sun began to peek over the horizon, and Coryo knew their time had ended.  

“Try and sleep. You need to rest.” He started to rise. “I’ll bring you more food tomorrow—”  

She cut him off. “Do you really think I can win?” Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks and a watery sheen coated her eyes. “And you better not lie to me. I’ll know. Do you think I can win? Do you think I can go home once all this is done?” 

As long as I shall live, your home will be in my arms, Lucy Gray.  

Like a man consumed with desperation, Coryo reached through the bars and cupped her hand in his, a solemn vow on his tongue. “I swear on my family's name that I will see you home once the Games are done. You will live, Lucy Gray. I swear it.”  

What possessed him to make such a foolish promise? She’d be dead before the first minute of the games ran out.

Her corpse just another body to mourn. Another symbol burned to ash.

If she died, Coryo thought, it would kill him. 

Coryo looked at the girl on the other side of the bars and started to believe that she could win. Living in a world without Lucy Gray’s songs would be nothing more than living in a world without colors, without flowers, without lemons.

The young omega, at that moment, sealed her fate, pressing a kiss to Coriolanus Snow’s palm. They were going to win the Hunger Games. 

Together.

Chapter Text

Coriolanus Snow failed to bring Lucy Gray any scraps the following day. Which he regretted, truly. But the blame didn’t entirely lie on his shoulders.  

With the Hunger Games closely lingering on the horizon, President Ravinstill loathed unnecessary spectacles involving any more tributes attacking their mentors. Coryo wasn’t there when it happened. Whispers in the air said Arachne taunted her docile beta tribute, Brandy, for a hair too long, swinging a bottle of water between the bars, unable to run when the tribute snatched, smashed, and shoved broken glass deep into her neck.  

Of course, Peacekeepers promptly discarded Brandy, a loss for District 10.  

When Tigris whispered the story to him, his first question took her by surprise; “And Lucy Gray? Is she okay? Was she hit?”  

Coryo didn’t like the way he felt when other people talked about Lucy Gray, almost like he wanted to snatch the words out of the air because others didn’t deserve the luxury of speaking her name. Her name made him feel weak. His baser instincts fought for control when others said her name as if they had any right.  

They didn’t know her as anything more than a tribute. Inconsequential to the Capital.  

And tomorrow, maybe even dead. 

In his bedroom, Coryo sat upright, watching the door. He found peace in the silence, but still took pleasure in listening to the inner workings of his home. Tigris, two rooms down, humming under her breath, stopping periodically to mutter a few words about a missed stitch. 

Grandma’am mumbled under her breath too, but her mutterings irked Coryo. Haunted murmurs about the war, rebels, and District scum. Under her breath pleadings to execute every District citizen. He didn’t always mind, but Lucy Gray was District. He wouldn’t stand for slander against her, or the place she called home.  

Home.  

He looked around his room. Bed pressed against the wall, two shirts in the open closet, rat poison under the shelf. Every corner emulated Coryo, from his desire for everything to be in place to his requirement for cleanliness.  

During his visit last night, she’d had dirt on her cheeks, smeared across the bodice of her pretty dress. And no doubt covering her hair. That wouldn’t do once she lived with him, slept in his bed, and ate at his table.  

Once she won the games, he’d lather her hair in the nice soap Tigris kept under the cabinet, making sure every trace of District was erased from her skin. He’d scrub her skin until she begged him to stop, lathering and rinsing until her omega scent was all that remained. She’d sparkle and shine.  

And once he had the Plinth Prize money, he’d buy a ring and rose for Lucy Gray.  

And a chain for those ankles, too.  

Each tribute was escorted to the arena at dawn, hands and feet shackled together. They lined them from last to first, sending a sweaty Coryo jogging to the front where a handcuffed Lucy Gray painted patiently. Lingering's of dirt still covered her cheeks. Without a second thought, Coryo cupped her face and wiped away a smudge near her lip. He ignored the eyes of his fellow classmates and sidled next to her, nodding to the Peacekeepers on the sides of the iron-wrought gate of the arena.  

When they started moving forward, Lucy Gray hissed, “You don’t need to be doin’ all that.”  

“Doing what?” whispered Coryo, making sure no one behind them was close enough to eavesdrop.  

She shot him a look. “Touchin’ me, Coriolanus. Not when everyone around can see.”  

“It’s not like they can touch you either, Lucy Gray” he assured her with a wry grin, still speaking under his breath. “You’re mine, remember?”  

“Only until the Games start. Don’t forget that part.”  

Had the two of them been in any other situation, Coryo would’ve slapped her behind hard enough to leave a mark. Sass had a time and place, and any omega of his would know better than to snap at him. His fingertips wiggled at the idea of punishing her, showing her where she belonged.  

Once everyone had begun to enter the arena, instructions from the Peacekeepers came swiftly;  

Twenty-three circular tables covered the room, a chair on opposite ends for each tribute and mentor. In the middle of the table, a metal ring stuck out, to which each Peacekeeper chained the tributes. It made sense to keep them cemented to their seats. Picturing Lucy Gray fleeing through the gates, and the ensuing chase, delighted him. 

Once every tribute and mentor had been seated, Dean Casca Highbottom appeared from the shadows, swaying from side to side like he was attempting to perform a one-man dance, but Coryo, as well as the entire Capital, knew their Dean was a pathetic drunk.  

“You’ll have forty-five minutes to talk to your tribute. Forty-five minutes to strategize the Games,” announced the Dean. “Remember, now is the time for planning, so use it well. Tomorrow, you both will return to this arena and be allowed to scope the arena for one hour. Put together a plan before it is too late, my young students.” He heaved a deep sigh. “May the odds be in your favor.”  

Coryo watched the Dean stumble through the main doors until he was gone. When he turned back to face his tribute, Lucy Gray’s head was tilted up the ceiling, her jaw slack with gentle wonder aglow in her soft brown eyes. Without metal bars separating them, Coryo could clearly see the texture of her skin, each speck of dirt marring her chin.  

His filthy tribute from District 12.  

But in the air, her scent floated around his head like a calming halo. He could smell a field of flowers covered in a sheen of bright light that bathed his face in everlasting warmth. 

“It’s a lot smaller in person,” she said after a few beats of silence, finally turning to look at him. “It’s not like there’s anywhere to hide… so what’s the point of all this?” She gestured to her shackled wrists and shook them for good measure. “There’s nowhere to run.”  

Coryo reached to cup her smaller hands in his, rubbing his thumb over the smooth skin of her wrist. “You shouldn’t say such things, Lucy Gray.”  

“The truth?” she said, pulling her hands away as much as we would allow, an ugly frown smeared across her lips. “You and I both know it. Even though we don’t want to believe it.”  

Coryo started to shake his head, blonde hair wagging back and forth. “We decide our fate. I’m not going to lose you.”  

“I’m not sure if that’s up to you, Coriolanus. No one’s expecting me to come back after this.” She swallowed a wad of spit to loosen her dry throat. “Now that I’m here, I’m not seein’ a way out. I can’t hide tomorrow, and I sure as hell can’t sing my way outta’ this one.” 

“I didn’t lie to you las— last night, Lucy Gray.” He lowered his voice, unsure if any of the Peacekeepers were listening. Every corner of Panem had an eye always watching or an ear always listening. “I’m going to find a way to help you. No matter what it takes.”  

“And if you can’t?”  

Coryo’s grip on her wrists tightened.  

Even after his promise, she still had doubts and it drove Coriolanus mad. Why couldn’t she place her trust in him? She must have known that sneaking out and bringing her food was grounds for a harsh reprimand from the Dean. None of it mattered to him, not when she was the prize at the end. Plinth's money was starting to shine less bright with every second he spent in her presence.  

However, he couldn’t help but allow her worries to seep into his veins and burn his limbs. Fear, Coryo thought, so that’s what fear is like. The arena was a fortress, no way in or out except the front gates. No holes, no doors, no secret passages for his songbird. Her wings would be clipped the moment she was set free.  

“I’ll think of something tonight. Just give me a few hours, Lucy Gray.” He offered her a sincere smile. “You can count on me.”

“Do I really have a choice?” she joked weakly. Around them, her scent turned acrid and bitter, bordering on vile.

It burned a hole in his throat. His Lucy Gray was supposed to smell like summer and flowers and home, not desperation and fear.  

If he could, Coryo would’ve launched across the table and scooped the omega into his arms, pressing her nose into the crease of her neck, flooding her sinuses with his wintery scent until she smelled right again.  

Under different circumstances, not even Dean Highbottom could stop him from having Lucy Gray.  

Behind them, a Peacekeeper cleared his throat.  

“Coriolanus Snow,” barked a nameless grunt. “You’ve been requested at the Academy, courtesy of Doctor Gaul.” 

His omega’s eyes widened. “Don’t leave me,” she begged prettily under her breath, tears blooming in the corner of her eyes. “Please, Coriolanus.”

His mind supplied filthy images of Lucy Gray; on her knees, then flat on her back with legs wide open, moaning his name. Begging for his knot. Tear marks down her face while he bullied his cock into her, not an ounce of his seed spilling. Hoarse screams that sound like an orchestral performance. A bloody bite on her neck that binds them for life.  

He pressed down on his half-chub cock while turning to address the Peacekeeper. “I need this time to discuss strategy with my tribute. Dr. Gaul must be aware of how important this is for us.”  

Two tables over, Clemensia Dovecote shot up from her table. “Coriolanus and I are partners. We do everything together. I’m sure that if Dr. Gaul wants to speak with him, I should be there as well.” She sent Coryo a wink. “Right, partner?”  

Lucy Gray’s scent soured even more. So much that the lemon aftertaste burned his throat.

Underneath that, he tasted something that delighted him. Jealousy.  

The Peacekeepers didn’t seem interested in waiting any longer. They ushered Coryo and Clemensia through the turnstiles, and the alpha boy only caught a glimpse of his omegas rainbow dress before she too was dragged away.  

Coriolanus saw Volumnia Gaul for what she was. Twisted, demented, hungry for human suffering. But within the chasm of destruction that was her soul, he also saw a part of himself, the one that craved snuffing the life out of Lucy Gray Baird and stuffing her decomposing corpse within his chest cavity so her cold cheek would press against his beating heart.  

And Coryo wanted to see how far he could bite into Gaul’s neck until it severed completely. Because of her, Lucy Gray had been torn from the arena, from him. She was probably back in the zoo, sitting alone while children and spectators gawked at her. She deserved to be at his side, not a trophy for the Capital to show off.  

Only he deserved to show her off, but only the parts of her that didn’t belong wholly to him, and there were hardly any of those. 

“What do you think she needs?” At his side, Clemensia ran a hand through her shiny black hair, strands laying delicately across her academy coat-covered shoulders. “Do you think it has to do with our tributes?”  

Coryo stayed quiet while Clemensia continuously listed off an endless array of questions and possibilities about why Gaul had summoned them— him, to be correct. She was nothing more than a fly on the wall, desperate for an ounce of recognition that bordered on pathetic desperation, one Coryo found sickening.  

Two Peacekeepers ushered them through the maze of hallways, each turn feeling tighter than the last, until the ceiling opened up and they entered the walkway to Gaul’s laboratory. White tiles, white walls, white cabinets. Very medicinal. 

The room must have spanned at least three classroom sizes, and nearly as tall as the main Academy Hall. No windows, and only one door in or out, at least from what Coryo could see. There were two shelves parallel to each other, and as the duo walked deeper in, they saw the… creatures.  

Bloated things suspended in glass with teeth sharper than knives. Distorted monsters with extra legs and eyes. And stitches and scars, most of them had that too. Coryo gulped. They all looked dead, fossilized in amber fluid, but when he tapped his finger against the glass, a bout of curiosity, the thing inside wiggled .  

Clemensia inched closer to his side, her beta scent too close. “What is it?” she asked quietly. “Why is it alive?”  

“They are my experiments, Miss Dovecote.” Dr. Gaul appeared in a whirlwind of red and white, a dark gray ring of curls surrounding her head, mismatched eyes honing in on the two Academy students, lips quirked into a saccharine smirk. “And they don’t take kindly to unwelcome visitors.”  

Coryo stiffened up, holding back the natural instinct to flare his scent in the presence of another alpha. Lucy Gray had described him as winter-like— all the right spices — while Gaul’s scent reminded him of a season with no life. An ecosystem burdened with starvation and frostbite. Families that butchered their young for a scrap of food. Like the hunger that forced young boys to scarf down bowls of paste.  

Dr. Gaul stunk of war, and it rolled his stomach.  

“Mister Snow, how happy I am to see you.” Her gloved hands clapped once, loud enough to echo twice around the room. “But I was certain I did not send for your classmate. Unless she has a curiosity for my work, that is. I’m not one to deny any curious minds.”  

Ever the fool, Clemensia stepped out of Coryo’s shadow. “Coriolanus and I are partners. We do everything together.”  

“Oooo,” Dr. Gaul hummed, an unsettling laugh bubbling out of her. “I like this one.” She whirled around and started to venture deeper into the lab, calling back, “This way.”  

Clemensia marched ahead of Coryo, head held high with her chin jutted forward. He saw no point in trying to pass her. All that mattered was finishing up here so he could get back home and figure out a way to help Lucy Gray during the Games.  

Nothing came to mind when thinking back to the earlier Games. However, things were different this year than any other. No tribute had ever been allowed a mentor, so maybe other things would, could, be different too.  

If people could hear her sing, they’d want to keep her alive.  

Coryo followed them deeper into the lab, trying to keep his eyes focused on the ground and not the saws and knives littering the errant tables. He caught sight of them first, the wriggling snakes in a tank as large as a house in the Districts. With scales that reflected a myriad of colors, like Lucy Gray’s dress. He could hear them writhing against one another and it grated his eardrums.  

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”  

Clemensia nodded. Coryo stayed silent, following them up the winding staircase that led to the top of the snake case.  

“My babies,” Dr. Gaul cooed into the open hatch. She gently lowered her hand, letting them squirm and flail against her palm. “They recognize my scent, you see. They see me as one of them.” Her eyes snapped towards Coryo. “Who do you see yourself as, Mister Snow?”  

“A citizen of Panem.”  

“You know what I mean.”  

“An alpha of Panem.”  

“Not all of us are reflections of our designation,” interjected Clemencia. “We’re the ones on top, Dr. Gaul. We always have been.”  

“Always?” Gaul repeated. “No, child, we have not always been the winners and the conquerors. After all, we went to war to secure our spot at the top of the hill. Panem has been built atop the bodies of our ancestors. And our future generations will be built atop our bones, Mister Snow, and it is up to us to stay on top, lest we fall below to the Districts,” she spat.  

Snow lands on top.  

Gaul carefully lifted one of her snakes and pressed a chaste kiss to its serpentine head before lowering it back down to the rest, all of them helplessly worming together into one mass. “I’ll ask you again. Who do you see yourself as, Mister Snow?”  

Coryo couldn’t pinpoint his future because it was changing.  

Every second away from Lucy Gray Baird made his future an unclear picture. Before her, it had been an image steeped in power, the Plinth Prize, more money than he could ever need, security for Tigris and Grandma’am. Because of the runt girl from District 12, the future was a rainbow of possibilities.  

A future with ruts and heats spent in each other's arms, and babies, yes, lots of babies. Pups with her warm brown eyes and his pale hair. A swollen bellied Lucy Gray tied to his bed with her pretty wings clipped. A symbol of their bonding born from her womb.  

“Miss Dovecote,” Dr. Gaul said, cutting through Coryo’s train of thought. “You said you see yourself as the winner, yes?”  

“Yes, Dr. Gaul.” 

A sinister smirk spread across the Doctor’s face, and she finally turned her attention to the beta student instead of Coryo. She gestured her hand to the uncovered hole in the tank. “If you would do us the honor of retrieving my notebook.”  

For the first time since entering Dr. Gaul’s office, Clemensia’s honeycrisp scent soured. “I’m sorry?”  

“Was I unclear, Miss Dovecote?” Gaul asked innocently. “I seem to have misplaced my most trusty notepad and it seems my assistant mistook it for trash.”  

Clemensia’s throat trembled as she shakily asked, “Are they poisonous?”  

“Venomous,” corrected the Doctor. “But they know better than to attack one of my precious students. However, they do have a taste for fear, Miss Dovecote. Show them how fearless you truly are.”  

Coryo didn’t flinch when one errant snake struck Clemencia’s wrist and sent her tumbling to the floor, splayed out like a fallen angel. He wondered if Lucy Gray screamed in a higher or lower pitch.  

Clemencia’s black hair pooled across the floor and her limbs tightened as the toxin flooded her veins. “Coryo,” she tried to say but her lips refused to budge, “help me, please.”  

Clemencia’s desperation tasted nothing like Lucy Gray’s, and for that, he silently watched the Peacekeepers drag her away.  

“Your determination to win exceeds my expectations, Mister Snow.” Dr. Gaul watched him with a curious eye. “Your stunt in the zoo, Snow. I like it,” she said grinning. “The cameras saw everything and now people are curious. And when the people are curious, they watch.”  

Coryo licked his dry lips. “Why did you call me here, Dr. Gaul?”

“Because your fall in the zoo has done more for the Games than you know. People are whispering about you and your songbird. And when people whisper, they tune into my Games, and I need all eyes on my Games, Mister Snow,” she slowly explained. “People are not watching the Games anymore, but you’re making them curious.”  

“So, what are you asking?”  

“I want you to write up a plan to keep all eyes on my Games. You’re the only one suitable for the job.” She lifted a hand and cupped her own cheek. “You’re the only one who would kill for your Tribute.”  

“You don’t know that,” Coryo protested, but she cut him off, “I do, Mister Snow. My ears are everywhere and I see everything. You were a goner the moment Highbottom named her as yours.”  

He briefly considered the punishment for beheading Dr. Gaul. Some sort of execution, but if anyone else knew about his attachment to Lucy Gray, then she could lose her head too. The thought of her death irritated him.  

“Your secrets are safe with me, Mister Snow, but a proposal written in your hand will be delivered by dawn, make no mistake.” She turned and started down the winding staircase, her hand running along the side of the glass tank. “I expect nothing less than perfection from our best student.”  

On his walk back, Coryo slipped into an alley, checking first that no one was around, and punched the wall so hard his knuckles bled. 

“No one has ever made me feel this way,” he said softly under his breath, the whispered words meant just for his tribute.  

“And what way is that?” Her words tickled his chin, and if the bars hadn’t been between them, he didn’t think he could’ve held himself back now that they were like this. Together and yet so apart, unbound and still twisted around one another, her sweet scent tangled with his.  

Like I’ve done it all right. That everything up until this point has been worth it.  

“I couldn't describe it if I tried,” Coryo answered. “But I never want it to go away.”  

Lucy Gray licked her bottom lip. “Only one boy has ever come close to how you make me feel, Coryo. But he turned his back on me… you’d never do that to me, right?”  

Hearing about Lucy Gray with another man lit fire to his heart. She belonged to him. No one else could replace him and any other challenger, alpha or not, would lose their head if they even looked her way.  

She turned her big brown eyes on him. “I couldn’t take it if you did.”  

“Never,” he swore, “I’ll never leave you, Lucy Gray.”  

She pressed a soft kiss to his broken knuckles and he nearly swooned.  

“I have a plan that I’ve written up for Dr. Gaul and I think it’ll help you in the arena.”  

Her eyes brightened like the night sky, stars shining in her iris’. “Really? You mean it?” Her shoulders shook with joy, and he could taste it in the air. “What is it? How can I help?” 

Coryo reached through the bars and cupped her cheeks in his hand, rubbing his thumb along her skin. “Nothing at all. If all goes according to my plan, then you’ll sing for them tomorrow night and people will sponsor you for the Games.”  

She eyed him curiously. “Sponsor?”  

“Yes, people willing to donate more than enough money to see you win. Sing for them, Lucy Gray. Let them love you like I do.”  

Her jaw clenched in his palm. “The people here wouldn’t know love if it slapped ‘em upside the head. I don’t need their money.” 

“What you need is their hearts, Lucy Gray,” Coryo pressed, “show them you’re worthy of surviving, and they’ll want you to live. Every cent they give you, I can use during the Games to send you supplies. Food and water. Things to make it easier on you.”  

“And the killing?” she said. “I’ll have to do that too, I suppose.” Her eyes watered. “I’m no killer, Coriolanus. You can’t make me one.”  

“You don’t have to be,” he assured her. Her omega scent had soured the moment he mentioned the sponsors, and he hated it. “I’ll bear every burden to keep you safe.”  

I’ll murder every tribute, every Doctor, every Dean, to keep you safe.  

He could see the cogs working in her head, processing his plan. If she said no to the singing, well… he had no problem prying the bars open and forcing her to accept. Hell, he was still considering throwing it all out of the window and, when the time was right, sinking his canines into her neck until she complied.  

Yes, Highbottom would try to tear them apart, but the road to a life with Lucy Gray was bloody and worthwhile. He was starting to lose sight of a cleaner path to a future with her by his side.  

Thankfully, Lucy Gray picked the road less caked in blood.  

“If you’re sure it’ll work and,” she added, “that I won’t have to kill, then I’ll sing tomorrow.” Like a mutt seeking warmth, she pressed herself against the bars, as close to him as she could get. “But I’ll be singin’ for you, Coryo, not for them. Never for them.”  

She nibbled on the hours-old cookie from his pocket, swallowing down the sweet crumbs.  

The next day, Coriolanus Snow and Lucy Gray entered the arena with the rest of the Tributes. And along the ceiling, across the high windows and rows of seats, fire and ash rained down.