Chapter Text

Tapping your thumb against your bottom lip while lost in a daydream, you aren’t even aware that Tigris came into the room to show you sketches of the dress she was currently designing until a hand closes around your wrist and guides it away from your mouth.

“Yes, I think it will be perfect,” Cornelius replies to whatever question she asks.

“Sorry, Tigris, I… I was lost in my thoughts.”

She smiles sweetly and nods before closing the door behind her, leaving you and her cousin alone in his study. Your eyes scan across the room, taking in the neatly stacked books that were in pristine condition over to the large map of Panem hanging behind his desk. Your husband didn’t like people going into his study without his knowledge or permission, but you needed a quiet place to think.

From the first time Sejanus mentioned he had become friends with Coryo, the son of
Your uncle Strabo Plinth, Crassus Snow, devised a plan to unite your families.

A marriage of convenience, not love.

Dr. Gaul once warned you that it was wise to stay out of your future husband's affairs and be the pretty face beside him on public outings, but you wanted more.

An eighteen-year-old named Cassian Vale won the eleventh hunger games by setting a trap in the arena using rubble and broken weapons he’d taken from recently murdered kids. It was the season with the highest viewing. The following year a sixteen-year-old girl named Maris Thorn won the games by camouflaging herself into her surroundings and simply waiting for everyone else to die, but the low bloodshed didn’t keep viewers entertained, so Cornelius proposed to Dr. Gaul that each year the arena be entirely different and that Cassian Vale and Maris Thorn be brought back the following year as mentors. Cornelius reshaped the games, and although you loathed it, you still believed there was good in him.

Even after inheriting so much wealth he could build multiple mansions, he chose to remain in his family’s penthouse with his cousin and grandmother. Which is why you wanted to help him climb the political ladder without losing himself.

Reaching out, Cornelius delicately strokes the white rose tucked behind your ear, “are you planning on wearing that tonight?”

The hint of amusement in his voice makes you smile. “Grandma’am gave it to me this morning.”

The night ahead would be full of debates, meet-and-greets, and Lucky Flickerman's grating voice being echoed throughout the event on every speaker. Knowing your feelings towards televised events grandma’am gave you a white flower, a reminder that you are now a snow, not a Plinth. You needed to suck up your own feelings and stand by her grandson's side.

Feeling the coldness from the marble floors biting at the soles of your feet, you shuffle back onto the desk; Cornelius raises his brow but says nothing. Instead, he picks up the scribbles of notes you started writing before getting distracted by your own thoughts.

“I’ve been reading old articles and watching footage of events that took place while you were still in the academy. I’ve been comparing the last few political advisers to figure out your best course of action.”

“Oh,” he rubs his forehead. “Dr. Gaul only needs one advisor and there is at least six people she’s interviewed that have far more experience—”

“Cornelius,” you cut him off by placing your hands on his cheeks, making him look at you. “Those men may have years of experience working in the capital, but that’s it. You’ve been a mentor and a peacekeeper, plus you are far more charming than those men. Dr. Gaul already knows you share similar views on how the Capitol and districts should be run, along with the games.”

“But you don’t agree.”

“Well, I’m not politically cunning like yourself. I'm just an ordinary woman, and my opinion on such things like the hunger games doesn’t matter to anyone on the capitol council.”

He stares at you, with a blank expression on his face.

Suddenly feeling foolish, you slip off the table. “I should start getting ready for tonight.”

“It’s only lunchtime,” he frowns.

“I know, but I want to make sure I look perfect while standing beside you.”

______

Stepping into the elevator that will stop outside where the televised event was being held, Cornelius starts fidgeting nervously with his blazer; his cheeks start to redden with a faint blush. Usually it was the other way around; Coryo would be oozing with calmness while you reeked of nervousness.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” After a moment of silence, he suddenly lets out a hiss of frustration, “yes. While your hair and makeup were being done, I left to drop off a proposal at Dr. Gaul’s office and overheard two assistants talking about me. They think I’m ambitious but not powerful enough to have any real input.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you did something that was uncommon in your relationship. You kiss him. Cornelius freezes slightly when your lips press against his, but the tension swiftly leaves his body, relaxing into the kiss as he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you in closer.

"I wasn’t ready for that —" he smiles, noticing the panic on your face. “In the best way. Being distracted by my wife’s soft lips will never be an issue.”

Now it was your turn to blush. Compliments and kisses weren’t something that had been common in your two years of marriage. You had always been on friendly terms, but anything sexual before has always been awkward.

“I should really thank my cousin; the gown looks perfect… as do you.”

The fabric of the dress Tigris designed and made for you was a beautiful shade of crimson. The bodice was tight enough that it made your breasts appear slightly larger than they were without actually showing any cleavage, and the bottom of the dress flared out; the underskirt was different shades of red and orange. It reminds you of fire.

You kiss him once more before stepping backward, but Cornelius keeps his hand firmly on your waist. Even when the lift stops and you go to join everyone else, he still doesn’t remove his hand.