a/n: by far my favorite chapter yet and has the highest word count out of the rest (5.1k words)

—Fire and Snow—

As Persephone watched Highbottom's disappearing figure, a pit formed in her stomach, growing and consuming every part of her. It was as if she wasn't really there, that she was not in her body and this was not her real life. That she was living in an active lie.

That she didn't belong.

And the pieces fell into place.

Her father's overbearing worry of what others may have said about his deceased wife, his lack of details when approaching her life before they met, and especially his apprehension to describe her further than her face and public image.

In the span of a mere few days, Casca Highbottom revealed more depth of her mother than Dunamis had her whole life.

The Ignis family was known to have roots embedded deep in Capitol society, no doubt about the way their name appeared in history books and their age-old transportation business. Everything Persephone knew of her heritage, however, was centered around her paternal side and not a whisper of her mother's.

She quickly realized the hidden indicators from the little clues she picked up in the past years. Leucothea had no definite history, no ancient family name, and certainly not aired-out dirty laundry like the Plinths. She was District, if Highbottom spoke the truth, but she couldn't have possibly bought her way to the top if nobody knew of it.

Lies were crafted around her past as a protective cushion, no doubt. Leucothea, for all she knew, could have never been her real name. She could have never been a real person, either, only sculpted like a persona to don, a mask to wear in toxic Capitol society.

Persephone wished she had come to her senses before the man exited to ask her burning questions. It seemed Highbottom was the only adult with knowledge of her mother that was truly transparent. But did transparency assure safety?

How long would it take to be banished from the rest of the narcissistic Capitol families when word spilled that Dunamis Ignis married a girl from the districts and their daughter, Persephone, technically belonged there?

And if Dean Highbottom had been accurate before he revealed a secret she had not even known about, how many times had he persisted in his honesty and been considered delusional?

Fire and snow, he always repeated the few times she had been alone in his presence, witnessing his manic episodes. However, he could not have been possibly true about Coriolanus Snow. She knew the boy more than he ever had, they grew up together and remained close friends. He offered her those protective lingering touches, the rose in her hair, the look in his eyes.

He was not his father—nor a monster.

Deep in her heart, Persephone interpreted their bond as love and refused to let herself see the darkness in his hollow soul.

Just like it had happened before, her stomach painfully churned. Saliva rose into her throat, salivating her mouth to protect from the acids she was to expel. A gag formed deep in her throat. The truth made her knees wobble as she abruptly stood from her seat, head whipping around to find the nearest exit.

Persephone refused to vomit in front of cameras. She refused to let her perfect facade fail with the weight of protecting her newfound district heritage from curious eyes. As Highbottom also mentioned before, any obvious reaction to the mistreatment of the tributes was one step closer to her sympathy being unveiled.

To a rope around her neck, strung up to a hanging tree and the word "traitor" plastered on her chest in her own blood.

As she stumbled on her own two feet, one hand hovering over her mouth with a twisted expression and the other tightly gripped on the edge of her chair, her eyes darted around the room. Where could she go? Too many eyes, too many people. They knew everything, didn't they? With their lingering stares and dark eyes.

She noticed, though had not acknowledged, that she shifted her intentions of searching for a distinct exit to a trustworthy blonde boy. Persephone craved his comforting hand grazing her back, his reassuring whispers, every little action he made to keep her from spiraling.

He was successful during her panic over her imperfections, her shell-shock after Arachne's death, even the night before when the bloodthirsty tribute, Bobbin, attacked her and resulted in the deep cut on her back.

Her stitches burned, an excruciating reminder of the struggles she endured the past week.

Where was he? Where was her guaranteed safety, a boy she considered home? Persephone only desired to fall into his arms, to breathe in his scent of roses and succumb to his embrace.

Before she could stop herself, one foot was placed in front of the other and she found herself blinking back tears of despair. Just as she approached the foot of the stairs and was blinded by her unfocused vision, she collided with a tall, built body and stumbled into the hands of Coriolanus Snow. She recognized, through her blurred gaze, his blonde curls and unmistakable blue eyes.

"Coryo," Persephone muttered, as if surprised to see the boy in front of her. He came back. Now he stood before her, in all his glory and charm.

In his mind, a mere moment before they bumped together, Coriolanus was much more occupied with arriving at the auditorium to witness the next events of the Games. However, as soon as his eyes laid upon Persephone with her glassy eyes, his priorities had been only slightly shifted. "Perse, Darling, what happened?" His knuckles grazed over her high cheekbone, caressing her face gently.

He grew drunk from the way she melted at his touch—he just knew he had to have her one way or another.

"I- I was just-" her lips parted to form the words, but they weaved themselves together and caught in her throat. Either from her suppressed gags or incoherent mind, Persephone could not voice her thoughts. Something was holding her back from passing her mother's secret to someone she believed she could trust. "Highbottom-"

And the sound of his name almost caused Coriolanus to ball his fists up in rage and steal his revenge like a thief in the night. He wanted Casca Highbottom to meet his dark eyes as the man withered and shriveled, succumbing to a death that he was responsible for.

Casca Highbottom loved to stick his nose into her business, didn't he? Shaming Coriolanus, warning her about nonexistent worries, reducing not only any girl, but his Persephone, to tears?

He was ruining everything the boy built, years of work carefully articulated, in the span of mere moments.

"What has he done now?" It was not hard to spot the wrath in his voice, the way his gaze morphed from slight curiosity to dark, angry blue eyes. "What has he said about me?"

In all her disorientation, his more selfish worry for himself slipped past her. "No, he just- something he said-" Persephone spun around, the sound of a gasp startled her. Her attention was stolen as she glanced from one of her classmates to the large scene displayed in the front.

Lucy Gray was stalked by Coral and another of her allied tributes. Treech, or something along the lines of it. No doubt did she reside just above the pair, who had taken notice of her poorly masked noises. And no doubt was she crawling into the cruel hands of death.

Persephone's little hiccup was soon forgotten, even by herself. Her posture straightened back to its natural, elegant state as she approached the rest of the desks once again and stared blankly at the screen. Another death. Another district child was killed for the Capitol's entertainment.

Her blood grew hot, boiling under her skin as she remembered the hate in her gut she held for the Games. Especially now, with the discovery that her mother belonged to the districts, any one of those children could have been her.

Persephone could have been the songbird of Lucy Gray, or the innocent young girl of Wovey, or the vengeful Reaper Ash, or any one of them shoved into an Arena to murder others. Any one of the children shackled in front of a screen or dumped in a zoo could have been her.

She could have been one of them.

A life of terror, floggings, executions—of impending doom.

"Lucy Gray, is she okay?" Coriolanus whipped his head around and asked the rest of the mentors, who had sat through the events he missed. The only moment his eyes tore away from the screen was when he could feel Persephone quietly find her place by his side. His pinky finger twitched, as if drawn to the embrace of her hand in his.

Festus Creed's smirk was almost audible. "She won't be for long." Persephone had to fight off the painful urge to roll her eyes at his remark. He had always been full of himself, hadn't he? Typical egotistical Capitol behavior.

But the male tribute's behavior grew unusual. Treech took a few steps away from where Coral jammed her pitchfork into the vent overhead and consistently wiped his nose. "What is he doing?" Persephone muttered to herself. Her eyes widened when the boy lowered himself down to his knees, cradling his leaking nose, and crumbled down to the ground.

The image of Coral finally jamming her pitchfork one last time and Lucy Gray falling to the floor was ignored, instead the camera's main focus being Treech's strange demise.

"Run," she heard Coriolanus instruct Lucy Gray as if she could hear him.

However, her attention could not have been more directed to Treech, now slumped face-down and motionless. What the hell just happened to him? And for some reason, she couldn't get the suspicion out of her mind that where Lucy Gray went, when she was most vulnerable, death followed.

Her mind somehow trailed back to her tampering with the water and Dill's quiet, sudden passing. Although the event could have been blamed on her tuberculosis, a sip of water and she fell into an endless sleep. Could Lucy Gray have been toxic? Something in her scent?

Or something she may have been given?

And there was nobody else who could have offered an advantage for a District 12 tribute other than Coriolanus Snow, her mentor, who made his intentions clear of absolutely winning the Plinth Prize—no matter what it took.

Once Lucy Gray ran off and Coral stumbled to follow, Persephone took a quick peek at the boy next to her. The possibility was there. Coriolanus had jumped at every attempt to nurse his tribute into good health and advise her the heaviest to survive. He couldn't tear his eyes off the screen, but he also had not batted an eye at Treech's mysterious death.

When he shifted his gaze down to meet her own, there was a glint of the gears turning in her head prevalent in her eyes. Persephone was unraveling his plan of cheating. She had unveiled it all in her mind. He knew she knew—and he also knew, from the way her lips remained parted and soundless, she wouldn't tell a soul.

Good girl, he smirked and fought off the urge to ravish her plump, naive lips.

With Coral and her last allied tribute on her tail, Lucy Gray ran into the center of the Arena. All motion ceased as the loud slices of hovercraft blades filled their ears. Strung by cables, a black cylinder inched closer to ground level.

"It's rainbow snakes," Coriolanus mumbled so softly in her ear, she almost couldn't register his words, "Doctor Gaul created them. That day Clemmie and I were called out from meeting with our tributes, they brought us to her lab. Perse, she made Clemmie stick her hand into the pit of snakes and they bit her because her scent was foreign."

"And they haven't mentioned her since." Persephone furrowed her brows and tied the loose strings together herself. "When you left, just now, did you go to her lab to witness them transporting the tank?" He nodded once to confirm. "And they bite whomever their noses aren't familiar with. 'A rainbow of destruction...'"

"I'm sorry, Darling, but Reaper is dead. Absolutely, unless by some miracle, the snakes will attack him and he'll be eliminated."

Her heart tugged, though tears had yet to spill for the boy. Something shifted in her soul, as she already accepted his fate, yet grieved over the inevitable loss of her friend. She mourned his death the moment he stepped foot in that Arena. Persephone would always miss the District 11 boy, as decades would pass and her soul would grow older.

It still hurt to know he was destined to die, her eyes turning to glass with a sob forming in her throat. Their goodbye never exactly felt like a farewell, like Persephone would meet him again one day and find him in every little detail of her life.

"And what of Lucy Gray?" She was inclined to ask, face contorted with confusion. He spoke as if his own tribute were not to die. Perhaps another one of his tricks to ensure his victory? Even now, in the years of his youth, Coriolanus Snow would bend and manipulate rules in his favor, to always land on top with whatever he desired.

He already began to dabble in tricks and lies, all selfish acts for his personal gain.

"That is not gonna be good." Lucretius Flickerman, with a notecard and his microphone, neared the front of the screen. The camera focused on the large glass cylinder as curious eyes all clamored to discover what lurked inside. "Wouldn't it be funny if it was candy?"

Startled, Persephone's eyes snapped to the boy as he grabbed her hand and squeezed in an act to comfort himself. His gaze was glued to the large screen, whispering to himself as if he had the ability to turn everything to his favor.

She gave him one tight squeeze to his hand, assuring him that she stood by his side to support him, and turned her attention back to the front.

From the sidelines, the youngest tribute reaped, a girl named Wovey from District 8, walked out blindly toward the cylinder. "Is it over?" She innocently asked, hope not yet abandoned. "Can we go home now?"

"Wovey," Reaper called out to her in an attempt to warn her, "Wovey!"

"Please," the young girl choked out a sob.

"Wovey!" He continued to call out to her, voice escalating as the glass began to crack. "WOVEY!"

Rainbow snakes burst from their cage and trampled over the girl almost immediately. A gasp elicited from Persephone's lips as such terror escaped at the hand of an evil madwoman named Volumnia Gaul. Her projects truly had been so vile, so gruesome, assuring the districts understood their place under the Capitol. As if her muttations were to remind lowly citizens of Panem the power held over them.

In an instant, they caught Coral's last allied tribute, Mizzen, with multiple attacks and consuming him within moments. A loud buzzer signaled the death of the boy tribute, another one of her mentor classmates exiting their place at a desk.

Her heart stopped for a few beats when another image was displayed on the screen. Reaper, perched on his knees and clenched fists in his lap, shut his eyes and drew his brows together once the snakes neared him. He accepted his death before it had happened, remaining motionless as he was consumed in a rainbow of horror.

Persephone's eyes welled up with heavy tears, spilling from her eyes with no chance of their end. As much as she craved to remain emotionless physically, nothing could stop the way her legs trembled and her face twisted up in an attempt to reduce her reaction.

The dreaded buzzer sounded again, solidifying the end of her foolish hope. A part of her wished it would never represent Reaper, that he would survive and run back to 11 and his family. That he would still be there with her, roaming Panem and within her grasp.

In their limited time together, only a few days, he had been a friend closer than anyone had before. In some unique way, they were soulmates. Bound together in every universe to laugh, cry, exist, but only together. Their fate was predetermined in the stars, yet Persephone would remember a boy named Reaper Ash from District 11 until her last breath.

She was his only real friend.

Persephone would never know the last images behind Reaper's eyes before his soul slipped away were of his little house in 11, his parents, little Barley, and a girl with unparalleled posture and kind brown eyes—his family.

His memory ran wild in her heart.

He would never be forgotten.

"Persephone Ignis, that's your sign to leave." Lucretius narrowed his gaze at her and motioned for her to step away, but her feet remained planted. With a tight squeeze to her hand from Coriolanus, he also attempted to remind her of protocol. "Get up outta here, your tribute is gone."

"I- I know, I'm just-" Persephone let herself linger for her last few moments before the large screen and dropped the boy's hand to wipe away the tears from her cheeks. She clenched her fists and stared, as if there was a possibility Reaper would appear back on screen healthy and alive. "I'm okay, I'll leave now."

She offered the man a tight-lipped smile, then directed her attention to the boy next to her and gazed up longingly into his blue eyes. Coriolanus stared right back, maintaining their eye contact as if he, himself, was not on the edge of his seat and awaiting Lucy Gray's victory.

Coriolanus was somehow content with the death of Reaper—Persephone would be all his now.

Highbottom spoke nonsense. Love could save them, right? Sparks danced between two souls, one with a tinge of glee and the other with a bittersweet acceptance. Persephone lifted her hand to cup his cheek for a moment, smoothing her thumb over his cheek and nodded. Oh, how utterly in love she was with him, there was no denying it.

Her shoulders threatened to rack, sobs crawling up her gut and fighting to exit her throat. On the bottom row, leveled with the ground of the auditorium, Persephone spotted his cousin, Tigris, clad in a soft pink dress.

Somehow, between the gaze of two girls with paths almost never crossing, a mutual understanding built immediately.

They both sympathized with the districts, with the tributes ripped from their homes and forced to kill or be killed. Tigris observed right through her, making no common mistake of interpreting the girl's tears as due to the Plinth Prize.

As Persephone approached her with the intention to occupy the seat next to her, she fell into the taller woman's open embrace. They communicated soundlessly, Tigris holding her with such care and strictly pure intentions. The hidden scent of roses filled her nose, even after she stepped back and slid next to the older girl.

Their hands remained linked, per Tigris herself, who offered her the most genuine smile she ever received and leaned a few inches closer to her ear. "Everything is gonna be okay, Perse. If you need anything, I'm here. I understand how you feel."

And a new friendship kindled between two future victims of Coriolanus Snow.

"She's won," Coriolanus said, Lucy Gray the only tribute left in the Games, "it's over, she's won! She's won, let her out!"

"I'm afraid that's not your call to make, Mister Snow." The host gestured up high in the crowd, multiple eyes following the direction and catching sight of Doctor Gaul. A shiver ran up Persephone's spine, staring blankly at the woman who unleashed fury upon innocent district children.

Are you a wolf or sheep? The woman's voice rang in her ears.

Almost like a last resort, Lucy Gray Baird began to mutter the words of a song. As if her voice could save her, like a songbird in a bloody hunt. "Doctor Gaul, she won! It's over, let her out!"

Once Festus Creed approached the screen once again with anger painting his features, Persephone sprung from her seat next to Tigris and took a few steps forward. "Why aren't they attacking her?"

She narrowed her gaze and remembered the truth she weaved out. Coriolanus knew the secret to taming the snakes, and no doubt had he plucked Lucy Gray's smell from the close proximity he spent with her before the Games. And no doubt would he go to great lengths to win the Plinth Prize, rules be damned.

"Must be the singing, it's calming them." He tried to cover his tracks, though his blood ran colder as his gaze settled on the Ignis girl a short distance away, across the room. She could destroy everything if she opened her mouth. Coriolanus worried for a moment, studying her features to predict her next move, that she would betray his trust and let those filthy words escape her mouth.

If she did with the intention of sealing all chances of the money, he would just have to stuff those accusations back in her mouth.

However, her lips remained sealed with that little gap between them. Her parted lips were perfect, sculpted to elicit the most agony from the boy. The longer he remained without his lips on hers, consuming them and claiming her as his, the longer he suffered.

"She can't sing forever." Festus tried to argue, under the impression that every rule was played fair and the odds just so happened to be tipped against his favor.

Her voice was beautiful. Truly a songbird. Lucy Gray Baird had sung her whole life, at the Reaping, during her interview, and now with snakes coiling around her limbs like they were entranced by her song.

It was not just the snakes, but the Academy students in the auditorium. Every person with a heart fell under the spell of her song, the vibrato of her voice, including Persephone. Not only was this girl a songbird, but a fighter. She chose to perform until her last breath, to use her only talent and capture the hearts of the Capitol. A mere District 12 girl twisted their minds.

And she was a damn good vocalist. The ferocity in her singing, the haunting beauty with every word. She sang everything she desired to say.

"Doctor Gaul, please," he angled his body to the cruel woman and demanded sharply, "get her out!"

Multiple shouts mirroring the boy's words grew louder. Soon, every student had participated in a chant to save Lucy Gray, the songbird from 12. They stood and formed a riot, many of them pumping their fists in the air.

Persephone kept her gaze trained only on Volumnia Gaul, almost consumed in grief and fury directed at her. The woman trailed her gaze around the angry crowd, then met the girl's eyes. Their contact was maintained for more than a few moments, long enough for the woman to narrow her gaze at the familiarity.

She's seen that look before, hasn't she? A long time ago, before the Dark Days in older Capitol society. From a strange woman with no recollection of a name or origin. A woman who donned the same glint in her eyes, unsure between revenge and desperation.

"Who will watch the Games if there's no victor?"

Their voices ceased with a simple raised hand from the woman. Doctor Gaul had an expression of distaste, yet intrigue. She continued to wonder where and who Persephone's eyes came from—as well as why they, for the first time in her life, sent an eerie, frightened shiver down her cold spine.

With a single whisper to one of her assistants, she exited the auditorium and was replaced with the laughter of Lucretius Flickerman. "She's won! Lucy Gray, the winner of the 10th Annual Hunger Games!"

Allowing her gaze to linger on Doctor Gaul for a moment longer, Persephone eventually tore her eyes away and placed them on Coriolanus with a bright smile. He successfully saved his tribute. While she expected him to be distracted, she was stunned to find his blue eyes already staring at her.

He was already looking at her.

Butterflies erupted in her stomach, much more comfortable than the twist of nausea she had endured the last few days. He was the reason for her coy, embarrassed smiles all those years of their youth. She resorted most of the time to hide them behind her hand, but he liked them much better when he got a clear view of her joy.

Her features pulled into a grin, happy and proud of his accomplishment. For a speck of time, she could push the tribute deaths to the back of her mind and beam at his success.

As every Academy student descended the steps of the stands to surround him, Coriolanus never tore his gaze away from Persephone. His Persephone. His First Lady, his wife, the girl he loved. She was forever bonded to him, never to escape his grasp. His chest rapidly rose and fell, relieved breaths exiting his lips combined with the elevated rate of his heart.

She was perfect, standing across the auditorium with her attention solely on him.

They were perfect.

He had to have her.

Before he could stop himself, his feet dragged him in the direction of the girl, taking long strides in hopes that he would meet her sooner. He was pushed around by other students and peers, encouraging him as he weaved through to get her. Once Persephone caught onto his shoving away from the crowd, intentions only to find her, she met him halfway and leapt into his arms.

His hand cradled one side of her face, the other perched on the curve of her waist. Hers gently laid on both his cheeks, running her thumbs over his smooth skin as a small laugh of relief escaped her lips.

But he wanted to be closer. He craved to feel her skin on his, to whisper in words how devoted she was to him. Not only speak, but prove. He desired her to remain by his side through thick and thin, young and old. He wanted her with him. He just wanted her.

All her insecurities, all her imperfections and flawless features.

Respecting Reaper's last dying words, Persephone caught the blatant look of starstruck love on his face. He really did have that glint in his eyes, one that instantly revealed how he discovered what exactly love was when he saw her.

She swore there was no possibility of tearing her gaze away from his. So many words were said in the unspoken, so many promises and assurances. Somehow, both of them knew just exactly what the other said.

His thumb traveled down to press against her bottom lip, followed by his eyes. Persephone quickly noticed his newfound attention, as well as the hint he offered. Coriolanus could not have been more enraptured, so in love with the girl before him.

Before he truly made his move, his gaze flickered back up to her eyes, wordlessly pleading for her consent. Persephone nodded once, captivated by his irresistible behavior, and watched the corners of his lips perk up a little more.

She was in love with him. Painfully, obsessively, forever in love with him.

He leaned down with a small, incomplete motion, as if to test the waters and was met with her head tilted up as an invitation. Her eyes fluttered shut, the sight of his sparkling blue eyes dazzling in her mind. His hand settled to cup her jaw and pull her face close to his when the time was right.

After a moment, as he plucked up enough courage, his lips met her soft, rounded ones. She was everything he wanted, everything he knew had to be his. Her lips were sweet and smooth, puckered enough for him to consume them with every part of his heart.

Cold, cold snow met the burn of sizzling fire.

The kiss was greater than they could have anticipated. Persephone would have laughed at the way some others described kisses to have created sparks, but that was all she could feel in the moment. Pure content with her knees weakened by his ravishing kiss.

He parted his lips and sucked hers, and in return was met with the same raw passion from her. Persephone shivered when his other hand traveled up from her waist to her back, pressing her body flush against his. His fingers dared to dip below to the small of her back, touches so light she could hardly feel it.

Their souls bonded with a kiss so potent, so disguised that both Persephone and Coriolanus hadn't a clue the fourth pomegranate seed he was feeding her.

But his mouth was so inviting, so addictive, that she couldn't get enough of feeling his lips on hers. Persephone, with her hands cradling his face, pulled him closer to her as her back arched and he leaned over her.

This was the moment she became more than a piece to his plan, but his everything. He could discard all his calculated power moves if it meant every waking moment was spent with his girl. His love. Persephone Ignis, such a dangerous woman for him to uncontrollably love. He lost all self control with her, but not all of it was bad if this was what he received in return.

After a few repeated actions of opening his mouth and closing it against her lips, noses pressed together and souls tangled, Persephone was the first to pull away. His lips trailed with hers as she leaned away, face following until she stretched too far. He still wanted to kiss her.

He wasn't sure that feeling would ever go away.

Instead, he settled for leaning their foreheads together with closed eyes and his mouth open from shock. Persephone gazed up at him with a smile so wide, her face hurt. In the end, she figured out that he really did love her back and he was willing to risk everything for her.

And so they go down the rabbit hole together—if both were doomed, so be it. For now, they were just two lovers completely consumed by each other. They were just Coriolanus Snow and Persephone Ignis, two hearts beating as one, dancing to a dangerous song.

The tale of fire and snow.