"Mother once said that she knew father better than anyone else and perhaps better than he knew himself; fearing that was her greatest mistake. I never understood her until now."

— Crassus Aurelius Snow to Rosetta Aurelia Snow on their mother's fiftieth birthday

The brunette twirled her hair with her finger. Her other hand raising her cup of tea to her lips. Eyes staring at an old photo of her mother's wedding day in her make-up wedding gown she heard a thousand times about she made with her aunt and a few close friends. A tale that had long been lost to days prior to the war.

It was true what they said. Her mother was one of the most beautiful women that Panem had ever laid eyes on. Sun-kissed, lean, elegant and with an indisputable wit and charm about her. She had a thick mane of radiant blonde hair and an indescribable balance of soft and sharp features.

They say she had been charmed by the man who said he loved her. Her father, running away with him instead of marrying into the Snow or Sickle family.

What she didn't know was that her father had picked wives like new shiny tools, firmly believing in superior offspring was rooted by superior minds. His first wife was nothing but a political marriage that he then killed off and kept the offspring somewhere until he grew tired of their incompetence.

He then married another woman that same year that bore him a pair of twins, he grew fascinated by them at first until he found interest in Augustus' mother who was a frightfully intelligent engineer and quickly divorced his other wife and married her.

Yet by the time Augustus was four she had driven herself into madness and was left cold ridden. It took him two more marriages and three other children later to finally meet Drusilla's mother at a gala event, she was only twenty one at the time while he was almost twelve years her senior, the following year they had tied the knot and she was born and the last of his wives. Well offical.

It was during the age of twelve when Drusilla realised that she had two more siblings, from two different women and her mother had begun her descent in madness and paranoia. Using her as a vehicle for her husband's attention.

'Look Darling! She's absolutely brilliant!' she remembered her mother would exclaim in a anxious firmly gripping her hands around her shoulder with darkened circles around her once grey eyes as her husband would stand there with a smile. It was that same day Drusilla decided she would never have kids. Never get married. Never turn into her mother and never want to see the same pain of feeling like a performer for anyone else.

"I love you," she then remembered Coriolanus' words. Love? she laughed at the memory. He had the same look her father had when he took interest in a new wife, her, Auggie or some prisoner who fascinated him. 

It was not love. It was obsession. 

The similar look that Drusilla recalled that her father gave her when he would take her everywhere with him. The days she had been tested by her father succeed with flying colours. The days she had dissected the most remarkable minds of the century like a key and lock as her father stood on the other side of the glass with a glimmer of fascination.

His brilliant darling daughter. Another him. Another tool.

But what stumped her the most was what he so obsessed about her? She could figure out her father, she could figure out her mother, could figure out anyone but not Coriolanus Snow.

Usually people of the Capitol were simple. They wanted pleasure or power that could intertwine into both. They wanted to fuck or see themselves on top of the food chain. Primitive like every animal. 

But what did Coriolanus Snow want? What did he want so she could just give it to him and be free of marriage. 

It was clear the man wanted political backing and fuck, but what had fascinated him, what was root of is obsession.  

For her mother it was simple. She wanted her as way to receive attention from her father. Her father wanted another him. Her brother wanted a friend, a common kin. 

The fine between the lines between what Coriolanus wanted was a blur, she had not dug the root of the weed just yet and it had pissed her off.

"Control is everything Drusilla, you are a von Tougaard and my favourite along with Augustus. You must always maintain control," she huffed at the memory. I'm trying father, truly. Father I dread you dearly but what am I to do?

Drusilla had sighed loudly, loud enough for her cat, Lucifer to perk up and stride over to his owner and lie on her belly.

"Dear, dear Lucifer. Does the devil actually care?" she grinned at her cat, scratching between it's ears as he purs. "I can't figure him out Luci, I can read him but I can't piece him together."

Lucifer only remains silent, leaving his owner to ponder as she stares at the ceiling.

He's a perfectionist. He must of been struggling as a child—, he clearly likes aiming for things he can't have. Is that what he wants from me? Another mystery level unlocked? Not exactly. He did win the Plinth Prize despite whatever circumstances he must of had grown up since he believes he can attain anything— a fatal flaw of the Capitol elite. But what does he want from me?! 

"I give up Luci," she mutters, looking down as the cat eyes at her with boredom. 

Her cat's ears perked, head turning in the direction of her communicator that had buzzed that she threw to the side. 

"Let's see what it is now?" she hummed reaching for it as she got up, her cat shifting onto her lap.

'Panemagram: Top ten looks at the Exclusive pregnancy bash of Clemensia Creed! Brought to you personally by co-editor of Capitol Couture.'  The notification read from the holographic screen. 

She clicked on the link after logging in, as it took her the website as she slowly scrolled down the list, trying to recognise the people on the list.

"Look, Lucifer Lyssie made the list," she pointed at the screen at her new-found friend at number six.

She scrolled down slowly as she got closer to the top three. Fifth, fourth and third were dominated by well-known actress and models invited that she couldn't remember seeing.

"Oh gem Panem what do we have here?" she laughed looking at the divided picture of second place being divided between Clemensia and Livia with the title 'who wore it better?' Clemensia was going to throw a fit when she saw this, Drusilla already imagining throwing a curling iron at poor Festus down the spiral stairs.

She then looked at Livia. A proud looking woman of the Capitol with a pointy face that Drusilla admitted she did quite look pretty in the gown.

"What do you think Lucifer? Who wore it better?" she looks down at her cat who only whips his tail dismissively. "Good answer," she laughed, "who knows they could be listening right now."

She scrolls a tad bit further where there was a hyperlink directed towards another seperate page about the whole fountain fiasco, Drusilla mentally reminding herself to click on it later. 

"And first is—" she barely finishes as the photo is none other than her own. 

1: the princess that captured Panem's heart. Drusilla von Tougaard's in her jaw dropping archival gown from legendary designer Gustaff Hovble.

Perhaps her aunt Emse was right. The gown was spectacular. Never had Drusilla imagined herself looking like a princess growing up. Not with the blood on her hands. 

She remembered putting on the dress. It had felt so sickly uncomfortable that she felt like a fraud to all the young girls who dreamt of being a princess. Yet the photographer—, that pink haired photographer had seemed to perfectly capture the perfect fragment of time. Her body was half turned but her head just turned enough for her soft eyes to slowly look up at the camera. The motion of her dress blurred just enough to look like a pink cloud and emphasise the bodice's meticulous beading. She looked like her mother. Her mother before she met her father.

She skims through the small blurb. An moment for moment piece on her arrival and interaction with the photographers, a small background piece on her, captured the heart of a Panem's heart throb Coriolanus–

"What the actual fuck," she cussed reading the last line. She clicks on the hyperlink provided as she is directed to the Capitol Morning News where the headline in bold read: The People's princess capturing not only Capitol Hearts but a particular Snow prince? 

"Before the fountain fiasco at yesterday's pregnancy baby bash, it seems rising in popularity professor Drusilla von Tougaard has not only captured the attention of the Capitol but a particular Snow Prince!" Lucky Flickerman clapped and smiled giddily with his co-reporter with bright bubblegum hair.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," she exclaimed.

"Tell me lucky, apparently you saw the whole thing happen!" 

"That I did. Before I did the two were spotted getting close, Coriolanus charmingly wrapping his arm around Drusilla and met her with a simple kiss on the head—, oh Panem, it looks like the young are keeping romance alive."

"Don't cry on me Lucky."

"It's such a warming sight to see? Anyways I was there actually when Coriolanus—, here look the photo!" the two turned around to see the stolen shot of Coriolanus kissing her hand. A picturesque shot that belonged in a romance novel as the rest of the crowd were blurred into mosaic pastels.

"That's a good shot," the co-reporter fawns putting a hand over her heart. "I feel like I'm watching a rom-com back in high school all over again. Think of all the beautiful babies they're would—"

Before she could even finish Drusilla had threw the device at the wall, causing Lucifer to immediately jump off her and run into the hallway. As Drusilla let out a vile shriek that could be heard from the lobby.

⎯⎯⎯

Coriolanus Snow had his lunch in the quiet rooftop reserve of his building that was only open for high executive officers. He needed a break from his office, usually he ate there while he would take care of Dr Gaul's affairs when the Hunger Games was drawing closer. But it seems being left rejected by Drusilla had fuelled him to fine a distraction by getting the work done in only half the length of time it need to get through the three extra hours it was worth.

"My, my is that Coriolanus?" he heard Festus Creed approach, followed by the avox holding his meal. "Did you get that pile of work sent from Gaul I saw this morning?"

"Yes," he nonchalantly stated.

Festus laughed, shaking his head before sitting across from him.

"I don't know how you do it," he sat down as the Avox placed his meal on the table before stood at his station a few feet a way. Coriolanus only let out a small satisfied smirk. Pride was virtue to Coriolanus. Pride was a weapon.

"I do what I can," he shrugs.

"So am I going to be your best man or what?" Festus snickers, earning a quizzical brow from his blonde friend.

"Whatever do you mean?" he played dumb.

"We all saw that bloody news article this morning. They call her the people's princess. Capturing the heart of not only the people but Coriolanus Snow," he recites the headline. "I'm happy for you man. You look like a fool."

Coriolanus only chuckles shaking his head as he slices his meat. "She's absolutely gorgeous. Perfect."

"I know," Festus rolls his eyes. "Clemmy has been going on how you look perfect together. You know she's already betrothing our probably future second unborn child to yours."

Coriolanus laughs at the thought, a not bad thought depending on how the future turns out to be but a humorous one at that.

"Can't believe we're talking like this. It wasn't too long ago we were fucking our way through college and declaring we were going to be bachelors for life," the curly haired male smirks.

"You were," Coriolanus corrects teasingly, pointing his knife at him. Festus had declared that statement numerous times drunk. "We were all going to settle down at some point."

Festus shrugs, "just couldn't imagine you settling someone who made you'd be so lovesick or obsessed about. We all thought at the back of our heads you were going to marry Livia or one of those girls you fucked back in college. You had there dads practically swooning over you—; speaking of which how in all of Panem are you going to woo your way to impress Drusilla's dad."

Coriolanus never truly thought it of it properly till now. Drusilla had showed no interest in him so far and as far as a last resort was, impressing Drusilla's father to personally arrange her hand in marriage was his best option. In a world in a fight for power he knew the hand the feared major warden held. Drusilla would stand no chance against her father. But her father was practically an enigma despite the various resources dedicated to his work and philosophy. 

"What happens, happens Festus," Coriolanus feigns perfectly with a laboured smile. "I only seek approval, not respect."

"Smart man, but then again honestly. I understand if you marry Livia, her parents practically adore you and practically everyone from our academy batch are married or spoken for," Festus sliced his way through his meal. "I mean she's declined a lot of suitors for you—"

"I want Drusilla," he cut icily still looking down at his meal. There was pregnant pause before his friend forced a laugh.

"Indeed you she is spoken for," he shook his head and snapped his finger at the avox to refill his drink.

Momentarily the lobbyist, a meek person had beehived around the table and whispered something into Coriolanus' ear. It was his grandmother.

⎯⎯⎯

The apartment phone rang violently. Drusilla, in the middle of cooking her lunch had strode around her island kitchen across to reach for the phone near the entrance door.

"Hello, Drusilla speaking?" she spoke gently.

"Oh thank Panem you picked up! I called your private number but you didn't pick up!" Tigris sighed in relief, speaking in between the sobs.

Drusilla frowned worryingly, leaning against the wall, "Tigris are you alright?"

"Grandma'am died," she sobbed through the phone, "I was at the workshop and the maid called. She said she collapsed—, I told her to call the hospital and I'm here—, Coriolanus isn't picking up. Anyways I- I, I left some important identification information at the workshop, it's on my laptop- I wasn't thinking. U-um, can you pick it up quickly since you're close to it?"

"Of course Tigris, don't worry I'll be there soon. Everything is going to be fine," Drusilla grabbed her keys. 

It had all felt like a sudden rush, she had met Fabricia who was closing who generously allowed her go up stairs and grab her documents and rushed through peak hour by parking her car three blocks away and ran the rest of the way.

"I'm here to see Tigris Snow, I have documents for her," Drusilla, puffed out, said to the receptionist of the private wing of the Capitol hospital. 

The receptionist, a young sharp looking woman whose focus remained at the large screen slightly tilted her head to the side. Enough to look at her poor fitting attire of an old fashioned long cotton pastel night dress and pants as she scrunched her nose in disgust.

"Family of the Snow family is only permitted," she chirped sharply, enough for Drusilla to roll her eyes.

"Please, Tigris Snow called me to fetch documents for her—"

"Miss family and only exclusive members are permitted beyond this point," she snapped condescendingly at her.

"How dare you speak to her like that?!" a stern voice boomed that had frightened Drusilla and the receptionist, both in unison turning their heads at dishevelled Coriolanus Snow. Eyes tired and dark, his perfect shirt crumpled under his vest from the hour that had felt like days.

He walked up the receptionist, looming over her with sharp glare. "Do you know who she is? I'll have you—"

"Coryo," she stopped him grabbing his arm and reeling in the monster. 

The receptionist had been reduced to a poor little girl who had awoken the monster under her bed. "Coryo we're all tired she was only doing her job," Drusilla reasoned. 

Coriolanus looked back at Drusilla's pleading look. She looked so beautiful in such a simple state with her soft braid on the side of her shoulder.

I'll deal with her later he reasoned with himself glancing back at the petrified receptionist.

"Let's go Scilla dear," he sighed in reasoned defeat, holding Drusilla's hand.

Perhaps it was out of pity or Tigris' sake that Drusilla had allowed herself to let Coriolanus get so close to her. Wrapping her arm around his as she would take a few glanced at his eyes that looked dead straight ahead, the both of them stepping into the empty elevator.

"How are you?" she asked gently looking up at him.

"Tired," he answered. His breathing tired and slow. "But I'm better now that you're here," he managed to crack a small smile. Drusilla tried to force a genuine smile in return.

"I'm sorry about your grandma'am. She raised you didn't she?" she asked.

"She did," he nodded. "My parents died in the war and she was the only person Tigris and I had. But I suppose it was her time," he adds. "It was harder for her ever since the war ended. The world was changing so fast and she wasn't able to keep up."

There was something about the way he said that in a slight confident manner that had startled Drusilla about the blonde man. A rather odd thing about someone who had raised them for a majority of their lives. But perhaps he could have been right and Drusilla chose to ignore it. Death can force a person into a path of lies and truth. Each a sign of madness if one goes down far enough. 

"You say such interesting things in the face of death," she looks at him with curiosity. 

"What are you doing," he leans in closer.

"Trying to get a read of you," she tilts her head.

"And what have you read so far about me?"

"I'm not quite sure yet," Drusilla says. But I'm afraid to find out.

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