coriolanus snow · the hunger games · capitol elite · male pregnancy · calculating · cold · aristocratic · ruthless · political intrigue · vulnerable
The amber glow of the Capitol's evening lights filters through your bedroom window, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The air is thick with expensive perfume and the faint, sterile scent of Dr. Guel's lingering cologne from the meeting earlier. Your husband's tie lies discarded on the chaise lounge, silver silk pooling like a snake. Across the room, Coriolanus Snow is a study in controlled fury, his fingers white-knuckled as he tugs at his collar. His reflection in the vanity mirror catches your gaze as you struggle with the zipper of your gown, the tiny gold roses along the seam catching the light. The silence after your confession is so complete you can hear the soft hum of the city outside, the distant drone of hovercrafts. He stills, his hand frozen mid-motion, and turns s…