a/n: please be shitting yourselves at this new chapter

—All for Love—

In the night, Persephone would still graze her fingertips over her lips and remember the sparks she felt as he kissed her. He kissed her. He harbored the same feelings she did for him. If his passion was just as Reaper told her, she much anticipated her next meeting with Coriolanus.

Reaper. Since the Games officially ended for the year and she shared her first kiss with the boy she possibly loved, Persephone hadn't had the time to think of the boy. Reaper was dead. He took his last breath in the Arena and died at the hands of the Capitol's cruelty.

But if she said it aloud, a necklace of rope would be strewn around her perfectly brewed Capitolite neck. However, she was not truly a Capitolite, was she?

Highbottom gave her exaggerated warnings, but some held some truth. Some were warnings. He was just one person who might have noticed her strange and unspeakable behavior—possibly one of many others. Regardless of her family legacy of House Ignis, she had ventured in dangerous seas of radical ideals and disgrace.

At any moment, one may point her out and throw her overboard into death's grip from treason.

Be careful, was what he must have been telling her, if not for the Morphling in his mind scrambling his coherent thoughts.

In between her restless haze of sleep, Persephone thought of a boy named Reaper, her treason, and her fate sealed with a searing kiss. She may have lost a friend, gone was his rebellious pride, yet replaced with a lover who bore poison and a vicious mind.

As a darling of the Capitol flourished under the spell of infatuation, a snake pondered in rage. The last night before his forced enrollment as a Peacekeeper began, Coriolanus was granted one last night in the Capitol to sleep in his stiff bed and the stench of poverty. Had he been born into riches like the rest of his classmates, bathing in ignorance, perhaps he would have bought his way out of the punishment.

That Casca Highbottom truly believed he was so powerful to rid Coriolanus Snow? So petty to hold a grudge against a dead man's son. And to verbally attack him to his Persephone? Blabbing on about such nonsense, his poor attempts of igniting caution in vain as soon as the words spilled out of his mouth.

Had he not been so hooked onto morphling, he may have had a little effect. He was quite lucky Coriolanus let him slip away for now, though the fantasy of watching the man swiftly drown in his addiction at the boy's hand ran its course in his mind plenty of times.

Knowing he would not catch a wink of sleep, Coriolanus spent the hours of the night tuning out the faint outdoor sounds of aristocrats burying themselves in the most expensive drinks, bathing in the finest fabrics and clad in whatever recent fashion trend was popular.

He wondered if Persephone was out there with her businessman father, adorned in velvet or silk, flashing the audience her head-turning grin. Following in the suit of her old man, she may have shaken a few hands of plump, red-faced men with their bellies bursting out of their suits. Some of them could have even taken a glance of her figure, plotting their proposals and counting down the seconds until her father begins accepting hands.

His fists clenched around the rotting sheets of his bed. He kissed her, then was whisked away to military enrollment for the next 20 years? By the time he would serve his years as a Peacekeeper among the filthy districts, stationed in grimy places and treated so far below, someone was bound to steal her away.

She had no choice, anyway. No matter how much she may have loved him, willing to sacrifice everything for him to reciprocate her feelings, her father was a controlling man. Dunamis wouldn't want his daughter running away to him anymore, not after word would reach his ear that Coriolanus cheated.

He imagined his First Lady with a plastered smile on her face, the ones he could always recognize as fake, snuggled up next to another man. Androcles Anderson? He always had his eye on the girl, yet was too cowardly to make a move with Coriolanus always by her side. Urban Canville? Florus Friend? Or would the ungrateful District boy Sejanus Plinth swoop up and steal her without much protest?

But what if it weren't just their Academy class that sought out her hand? With her grace and beauty, it would be no surprise if some older suitors were bold enough to throw their hat in the ring. Many sought after young wives, especially after lives crumbled during the Dark Days. Someone like Pluribus Bell could chase her, too.

And Coriolanus found a new desire to choke the perverted man until he was limp and blue.

No, he had to tell himself. Persephone kissed him back more than willing. He just had to promise her he would come back for her. Her only task would be to believe it. She needed to be convinced that nobody could love her the way he did, nobody could protect and cherish her like him. She had to know she was only his.

Instead of sleeping that night, Coriolanus gripped his pen like it was his lifeline and dipped it in ink, hastily writing a letter filled with all the right tricks embedded in beautiful words. He was proficient in his English based assignments and possessed a well-formed vocabulary.

Persephone was always someone to believe he was much more human than he truly was under his smooth skin, soft blonde curls, and hypnotizing blue eyes. She would believe every word he pasted on the parchment and envision vivid dreams.

She would wait for him—he made sure of it.

His words bore some truth, yes, for no other girl with pitiful attempts of glamor had come close to influencing his mind. Sentences flowed so naturally, it was almost as if every thought he had about her from before made their appearance in the lines.

Women were a waste of time until it came to Persephone Ignis. Perhaps it was because she was no ordinary woman at all, and instead nurtured a presence beyond all of man. Just as he was destined for power, she was born for something beyond.

It was the largest reason he had spent any time on her at all: she was special.

She wasn't just a woman—but a weapon. Owning her meant strength. Nothing attracted the man more than control. Ambition guided his strategy.

Before the sun rose above the skyline of the Capitol, a clash of old remnants and new improvements, Coriolanus set his letter to his Persephone in the center of the main room for Tigris to surely not miss. His instructions were simple. His expression was cold.

He was about to enter the next chapter of his life. He would be stripped of his titles and thrown with the dogs. He would be forced to adjust to District life and live among scum. He must kiss the Capitol goodbye and leave behind everything he knew.

Amidst the procedure of swabbing his mouth for DNA, stripping his clothes, and buzzing his hair, Coriolanus had one thing on his mind: the girl described most accurately as a swan. Persephone, his dark lady, who would bring him prosperity and power as well as follow his word like a heretic.

Her smooth skin, brown eyes that shined like the sun while they glistened with a sinister hint of potent ability, glossy dark hair, and her unshakable posture. A white swan, shy but true, dedicated to him. He favored the way she noticed the little things, her deep level of understanding, every tiny detail aligning with the other. She was perfect.

He would make sure she abandoned all her attachment to that animal, Reaper, forget about the gruesome horrors of the Hunger Games, shut her morals out of her mind all to dedicate her meticulous craft to aid his campaign.

President of Panem: Coriolanus Snow and his compelling wife, Persephone Snow.

Yes, that sounded right.

By the time Persephone had been notified of his absence, Coriolonus was on a moving train to District 12 with the surprise of a companion before him. She had recently snapped out of her restless haze mourning the tributes and answered her door to a worried Tigris. The woman's face was tightened with grief, a cream-colored parchment folded in her hand with the girl's name on the front.

"Tigris?" Her silky voice asked, brows furrowing at the state of the woman before her. She adjusted her cotton white nightgown and tilted her head. "Are you alright? Did something happen?"

"It's-" Tigris shut her eyes, face twisting as she suppressed more tears. "Perse, it's Coryo. Somehow, Casca Highbottom found evidence that he cheated in the games, rigged them to make Lucy Gray Baird win against it all. He- oh, Perse, he sent him off as a Peacekeeper."

Silence followed as the girl's face went blank.

"He's—he's been shipped off to the districts. He's being forced to serve 20 years as a soldier. I'm so sorry, Perse." And Tigris's face tightened as tears rolled down her cheeks, filling her red eyes and sliding down her porcelain face. "He's left a letter addressed to you—he hasn't told its contents, just to give it to you."

Tigris outstretched a simple folded parchment with her slender pale hand, and Persephone received the last message left from the boy she loved with her name in delicate letters. Delicate like the way he would say her name, its consonants and vowels rolling off his tongue as smooth as the finest silk. Through her rose tinted gaze, she viewed his gesture as a sign of his reciprocated love—the inklings of his last words to her for an indefinite period of time.

"Thank you, Tigris, would you like to come in?" She nodded, and Persephone stepped aside the doorway to let the older girl in, eyes still locked on Coryo's letter. The blonde situated herself at the large wooden dining table, stained a deep brown and sculpted intricately at every edge. For a moment, the girl who had grown up primarily in a life of poverty admired the symbol of Ignis wealth, tracing her fingers along the texture and imagining a dress that could imitate such beauty.

Persephone gracefully sat next to her long term friend, smoothing out her skirt repeatedly in the way her anxiety always inclined her to and blinking heavily to remain composed. She unfolded the letter, tracing the paper that faintly smelled of Coriolanus's natural rosy scent. She imagined his soft blonde curls, his bright blue eyes, his soft lips as if they were right in front of her.

It had been mere hours since she had last seen him and she already began to deeply miss every detail of him.

She read:

My dear Persephone,

I apologize for my actions in the Games—rigging them for Lucy Gray to win. You must see I never meant to be caught and shipped off to the districts as a Peacekeeper. Horrible Casca Highbottom has done this to me, in his cruel intentions he has stripped me of all autonomy and respect. My service will last for 20 years. They will not permit me in the Capital until it is over. I will not be able to visit you in person.

My dear, you must understand I never meant for us to end up in this way, Perse. I continue to feel your lips on mine when I close my eyes. Your body flushed against mine. Your soft brown hair. They are taking me from you for playing the Games the right way and saving Lucy Gray.

I will miss you for as long as we are apart. My forced service will be spent remembering you—hoping you will wait for me to come back.

I must confess now, due to my absence. From the moment I met you, Persephone, you have enchanted me with your delicate beauty and pure heart. Not a day has passed where I have doubted my affection for you. Even as I write this last letter to you, in the dim glow of a candle, your name lingers on my lips. My heart calls for you—I love you.

He had confessed with profound words of love. Coriolanus had loved her all this time, the same way she loved him. He needed her like air, reciprocating every feeling of hers for years. What was she to do now? Her true love would be gone all this time working to the bone in the districts, while she would have to uphold her responsibilities in the Capital.

This was the work of Dean Highbottom and his filthy selfish intentions to take Coriolanus away from her. Couldn't he see they shared a burning love? Why did he stick his nose into her life whenever he could, head filled with delusional Morphling warped ideas? How cruel of him to inflict this pain on her.

The last lines echoed in her head, as she pondered her decision at a rapid pace, already rising from her dining table chair and rushing to grab a large bag to travel.

I will wait 20 years for you, and I must ask you to do the same.

She didn't hesitate to wait for him, with or without his request. She would move mountains to be with Coryo, to kindle their love forever. Where he was forced to go, she would willingly follow.

She began folding and gathering her clothes and necessities, ignoring Tigris's questions. Coryo was the one thing on her mind, as she felt herself tip into a borderline obsession with the boy. If Persephone had to describe love, she could only admit it was exactly how she felt for the boy. She yearned in a way that could only be understood if felt by another themself.

She needed to be with him. She loved him.

"Perse, slow down, how will you even travel to the districts? Let alone see Coryo while he's a Peacekeeper?" Tigris's brows were furrowed, and only deepened when she saw the look in Persephone's eyes.

"I'll find a way," her brown eyes threatened to spill their tears, "I'll find a way to be with him, Tigris, I can't wait 20 years for him. I love Coryo. I won't wait, I need to be with him."

For the first time, with possibly the first person to witness such a sight, Persephone began to break down. Her perfect facade began to crack. The swan-like energy she emitted dimmed for a brief moment. In this vulnerable moment, Persephone appeared not as a pristine Capital darling, but a reckless girl abandoning her life for love.

The love I feel, my dear, is love I will never feel for anyone else.

She wanted to tell him she felt the same. She needed to pursue their connection, as it almost felt impossible to live without the boy. He must know. Persephone would not stop at anything to be by his side, she needed him like air in her lungs—the same way he needed her.

With a packed bag, Persephone rushed to stand at the train station and waited to board the next train shipping out to the districts. She held one ticket in her hand, a ticket that represented everything she felt for Coriolanus.

She was leaving the Capitol for the Districts to stay with him. Persephone refused to wait 20 years for her only love.

I would do anything to come back to you. My heart calls your name.

Persephone needed to tell him from her own lips of her shared affection. He must know—he must understand no life without him is worth living. She was utterly in love with him, so much so it crippled her heart at the idea of being apart. Surely, he must know.

As the next train docked, doors slid open with Persephone's foot already stepped up, a familiar face caught her eye. Casca Highbottom, in his glory with dilated pupils and an empty bottle of Morphling visibly tucked in his breast pocket.

He watched her with a perplexed look on his face, as his eyes almost begged her to take her foot away from the train. Don't chase him, he almost shouted. Too many words were on the tip of his tongue, too much to tell her in such a short time where she had been blinded by her affections.

Words about her father, her role in the Capitol, the evil he sensed in Coriolanus Snow inherited from his own father, they all washed away as he observed her for what he believed to be the last for a long time. Only one idea filled his head—she couldn't end up like her mother.

That she didn't know the truth enough to avoid the same mistakes. What she was about to embark on was dangerous, not just for any Capitol citizen, but for her. She couldn't understand the weight of her choice to travel to the districts, and he had no time to tell her the secret that had haunted him and her own father.

They failed to tell her the truth in time—and the lies used to cover it would kill her.

Highbottom mouthed his last words, too dangerous to say out loud. You can't leave, he wanted to yell but recognized the lack of safety. His eyes pleaded, only to be met with her hostile brown eyes. The near identical face of Leucothea Swan turned away from him once more, approaching her demise one last time.

Persephone would board that train headed for the districts, with her whole life packed in one bag and her heart influencing her mind to pursue only one thing. Her pinnacle decision would change the path of her life forever, despite all warnings from Highbottom and his lack of credibility. Her time in the districts would return her to the Capitol a different woman—never to return the same as before.

I love you, my dear Persephone Ignis.

All for love.

i think i forgot half my plans for this chapter but anyways