#coriolanus series

Short Summary

Commander Snow wants nothing more than to leave District 2. But why leave alone when he could take someone with him?

The Story

Lucy Gray ran away from him. 

That’s what Coriolanus is sure of.

Shen ran. He fired.

What he isn’t sure of, is whether the bullet got her.

With pain in his heart, and arm from the snakebite, he returned to the peacekeeper base. He tried to act fine when he walked through the fences, biting in his own tongue until it bled to hide the sting in his arm. 

That sneaky bitch hid a snake under his mother’s scarf.

Coriolanus was quickly sent to the infirmary, where an old lady led him to a chair. The chair wasn’t comfortable, just like everything in district 12.

He hated it here and after losing not only his best friend Sejanus, even though Coriolanus hated to admit he was his best friend, but also his Lucy Gray, there was nothing.

He could no longer look forward to going to The Hob to see his girl performing in front of the crowd, a huge smile on her face. He could no longer spend time with Sejanus, complaining about how incredibly hot it was while they had to run laps in their brutal training.

Everything he loved was gone. Gone.

An old lady treated his snake bite and after he was dismissed, he quickly made his way to the sleeping barracks. He ignored Smiley, who waved at him while sitting in a peacekeeper's truck.

“Hey Gent, you okay?”

Coriolanus just raised a quick hand before he opened the door to the barracks. He needed to be alone.

And what better place to be alone than here in district 12, miles away from your home?

--------------------------------------------------------------

After the news was delivered that Coriolanus passed his peacekeeper officer candidate test, not to mention the youngest person to ever pass it, he was sent to district 2.

Coriolanus nearly cried tears of happiness when he finally stepped on the train, which would get him out of this shithole.

Goodbye District 12. 

He hoped he would never have to see it again.

He would no longer be reminded of his past with Lucy Gray. He would no longer have to see the Hanging Tree where Sejanus screamed his name.

Everything would be better in district 2, he was sure of it. Only a few steps away from going home, his beloved Capitol where he would make everyone pay for letting him rot in the districts.

Coriolanus became an officer in district 12, which also came with a private room. It wasn’t much, there was only an uncomfortable bed, a small desk and a wobbly closet (he was sure it would fall apart one day), but it was better than sleeping in the barracks with your fellow peacekeepers. 

In this way, Coriolanus could write to his family without having to be concerned about his friends seeing him getting emotional over some stupid words on paper. He could actually sleep well without being disturbed by the loud snores of others. He could jerk off whenever he wanted to without being scared to get caught.

Yeah, being an officer came with a lot of advantages.

But being an officer wasn’t enough for Coriolanus, there was no such thing as ‘too much power’. Coriolanus wanted it all.

It didn’t take long for him to be promoted. He followed the orders to impress, while quickly undermining anyone who got in his way. The higher-ups noticed, of course, and Coriolanus knew how to get them in his palm. 

Coriolanus was excellent at reading people, anticipating threats and making others bend without raising a fuss. He could do it all and before everyone knew it, he got officially upgraded to Commander.

Commander Snow.

He liked the sound of that.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Coriolanus always wakes up early. Always. Every day. No expectations. Even on Sunday. There’s always something to do as the Commander of district 2. 

New peacekeepers need to be encouraged and trained, letters from the Capitol need to be answered and new rules need to be enforced. 

He quickly changes into his commander uniform, straightening the insignia on his chest until it sits perfectly. Even here, far from the Capitol, appearances mattered. 

He made his breakfast as fast as he could. At least district 2 offered more rich and exclusive products. Instead of always the same boring breakfast, Coriolanus could finally eat whatever he desired.

He ate alone in his small office, reviewing reports from the previous day: patrols, supply shortages, minor disturbances. Nothing major. Nothing that required the attention of a Commander of District 2. 

Yet.

After making his way outside, he’s quickly stopped by officer Corvin, an older man who’s lived his entire life as an officer in multiple districts. Coriolanus liked him, Corvin was one of the first people to help Coriolanus in his way to becoming Commander.

The older man rests his hand on his shoulder.

“Commander Snow, you’re up early.”

“As always.”

Coriolanus tilted his head slightly, glancing down at the neat rows of recruits marching in the training yard. He’s proud of their training system, every young boy changes into a grown man within only a few weeks of training.

Just what every district needs. Trained peacekeepers to maintain the control.

“Things have been going smoothly lately. I’ve heard about multiple rebel protests in district 11, peacekeepers are busy gaining control back.”

Corvin said. The two of them start to walk towards the main building, where Coriolanus is expected to join a meeting concerning increased production requirements, orders from the Capitol.

Grandma’am and Tigris keep him well informed about what’s going on in the Capitol. The economy is thriving, which leads to higher demands from the Capitol. Increased production is necessary to satisfy their needs. The district scum just needs to work harder.

“I’ve heard about it. What a shame that some people still think they can challenge order.”

Coriolanus read about the uprisings in district 11 in the letters that were on his desk yesterday. It’s unacceptable. Hopefully the people of district 2 won’t let it get to their heads. Not that he would allow them.

A doorman opens the door for them, the main building is not quite packed with people. Only a number of secretaries are sitting at their desks, they hurriedly jot things down on paper. 

His secretary Maris strides over to him, a pile of papers in her hands. 

“Commander Snow, they are already sitting in conference room 2. Here are the documents you’ve asked for.”

Maris hands them over and Coriolanus quickly waves her away. The two men stop in front of the stairs which lead to the different conference rooms. 

“I’m sure you’ll keep district 2 at peace, Commander Snow.”

----------------------------------------------------------

By noon, the compound had grown warmer under the harsh sun. Peacekeepers moved briskly, the hum of machinery from the factories in the distance steady and constant. 

Coriolanus returns to his office, preparing to review the next set of reports when Maris reappeares, her expression slightly unsettled.

“Commander Snow.”

She says, approaching quickly.

“I’ve just received word from patrol units on the outskirts of the district. There’s been suspicious activity. Rebels, possibly. They were caught-”

“How many?”

Coriolanus cuts her off, seating himself in his office chair. He’s still not used to the brutal heat of the districts, he has an awful headache and he can’t wait to shower the sweat off his body when he’s done working. 

And now there are rebels?

“A small group, around six. They were spotted stealing bullets and gunpowder from our storage facilities. They were then followed, and the peacekeepers found their stash in a shed.”

Maris walks over to the wooden side table and pours a cold glass of water for him. She places it on his desk. Coriolanus takes a sip, enjoying the cold water running down his throat, before he turns to her.

“What’s the situation? Have they arrested them yet?”

“Not all of them. Two got away when the peacemakers broke into the shed. One of them is nowhere to be found, the other one is hiding in his home. We got the address.”

Coriolanus clenches his jaw, the peacekeepers shouldn’t have let two of them escape. It’s embarrassing for the entire compound, it’s embarrassing for the Commander. For him.

“So? What are they waiting for?”

It feels like his head is about to explode, he rubs his temples trying to reduce the ache. 

“The peacekeepers suspect the rebel is armed. They’re not sure whether his family is home. They are waiting for your sign to break in.”

Coriolanus lets out a slow breath through his nose, his fingers still pressed against his temples. Of course they were waiting. Always waiting. As if hesitation had ever solved anything.

He leans back in his chair, though there’s nothing relaxed about the posture. His mind is already moving ahead, layout of a standard district house, possible exits, who might be inside, how quickly things could spiral if handled poorly.

“They’re afraid of casualties.”

Maris adds carefully.

“Peacekeepers afraid?” 

Coriolanus scoffs quietly.

“Then they shouldn’t be wearing the uniform.”

He stands abruptly, the chair scraping softly against the floor. The headache pulses behind his eyes, but it sharpens him rather than dulls him.

“Send word.”

 He says, already adjusting his cufflinks. 

“They are to surround the house immediately. No one enters or exits.”

Maris nods, already writing.

“And then?” 

She asks.

Coriolanus pauses for only a second.

“Then they go in.”

His tone leaves no room for interpretation.

“If the family is inside, they are to be restrained. Anyone who resists is to be treated as an accomplice.” 

His gaze hardens. “I want the rebel alive if possible. I intend to know who he’s working with.”

Maris hesitates for a fraction of a second. 

“Understood, Commander.”

He steps past her, already heading for the door.

“Prepare a vehicle. I need to see who brings shame to the uniform.”

Coriolanus pushes the door open, the heat hitting him immediately as he steps back into the compound. The sun is harsher now, unforgiving, but it does nothing to slow his pace.

Somewhere in District 2, a boy thought he could steal from the Capitol and walk away. Thought he could hide behind walls and family and fear.

Coriolanus almost smiles.

He would learn very quickly how wrong he was.

----------------------------------------------------------

The ride is short. Too short.

Coriolanus sits in silence in the back of the vehicle, one hand resting against the door, the other tapping lightly against his knee. Each second that passes without resolution only irritates him further. Sloppy work. Hesitation. It reflects poorly on all of them.

When the vehicle finally slows, he already sees them.

The house is small, like all the others in this sector. Worn wood, narrow windows, a door that looks like it could be broken in with a single kick. Peacekeepers are positioned around it, rifles raised, but none of them moving.

Waiting.

Of course they are. 

Always waiting.

Coriolanus steps out before the engine has fully died, the heat wrapping around him instantly, thick and suffocating. A small crowd has already begun to gather at a distance—neighbors lingering just far enough to pretend they aren’t watching. 

Pathetic.

The peacekeepers straighten immediately when they see him.

“Commander Snow, sir.”

One of them steps forward, visibly relieved. Coriolanus doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Report.”

Coriolanus orders.

“The suspect is still inside. We spoke to neighbours, his parents and sister are home as well.”

Coriolanus exhales softly, unimpressed, and walks past him toward the house

He gestures once. 

“Open it.”

The peacekeepers move quickly this time. One heavy kick and the door bursts inward with a crack of wood. Shouting follows, boots thundering across the floor, the sharp clatter of movement inside.

“On the ground!”

“Don’t move!”

A struggle.

Coriolanus doesn’t rush. He steps inside only once the noise settles, once control has already been reestablished.

A boy, no, a young man is forced to his knees in the center of the room, arms wrenched behind his back, blood trickling from his lip. One of the peacekeepers presses a rifle to the back of his head.

He’s young. Too young to think he could get away with this. Dirt on his hands, defiance barely masking the fear in his eyes.

But his attention shifts.

To her.

A pretty girl, long blonde hair and pale skin stands near the far wall, frozen. Not fighting. Not screaming. Just standing still. Like a deer that hasn’t yet decided whether to run.

Her blue eyes are wide, flicking between the peacekeepers, the boy, and finally landing on him.

Interesting.

“Who is she?” 

He asks, his voice calm, almost absent.

“His sister, we think.”

Of course.

Coriolanus steps further into the room, slow, deliberate. His boots echo against the floor, each step measured.

She doesn’t move. Not even when he stops in front of her.

“Look at me.”

The command is quiet.

For a moment, she hesitates. Then slowly her eyes lifts fully to his.

Up close, she’s even prettier. Defined cheekbones, full eyebrows and those pretty doe eyes that man would go to war for. Looking at him like a deer in headlights.

Obedient. Or smart enough to pretend to be.

Then, finally, he turns his attention back to the boy on his knees.

“You stole from the Capitol.”

“Go to hell.”

The boy spits.

Coriolanus sighs softly. He straightens, adjusting his sleeves as if the matter is already decided.

“Take him.”

The peacekeepers haul the boy to his feet. He struggles, just slightly. Not enough to matter.

“And her?” 

One of the peacekeepers asks.

His eyes drift back to her one last time. Still standing there. Still watching him. Still not running.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches his lips.

“Bring her as well.”

He turns toward the door, already stepping back into the sunlight.

Something about her lingers in his mind.

Quest for Happiness

Pairing: President!Coriolanus Snow x Capitol!Reader

Synopsis: You got what you wanted. Power over Panem is on your hands. But after fighting in a battle of schemes and ruse, Coriolanus and you face a much more complex adversity. Together, you are a force to reckon with but when the odds seem to not be so much in your favor, will you manage to remain together?

Warning: doubts, man vs self, man vs nature, superstitions, explicit smut, parenting

Disclaimer: The TBOSAS characters belong to their respective owners, reader is female. Skin tone and body type mentions were limited for better reading experience. If any characteristics of y/n bothers you, or if any of the warnings does not agree with you, I advise you not to proceed to read the story.

Chapter Count: 7

Status: Completed

Note: This is a tag-along series, more toned down continuation of Hunt for Glory where we can see what takes place after your rise to power. Read HfG first if you have not yet, to understand the plot. Have a great time reading!

Masterlist

i. Dollhouse

ii. One Way Ticket

iii. Cacophony No. 7 in C minor

iv. Against All Odds

v. A Hundred Sleepless Nights

vi. Shower of Gold

vii. Footsteps in the Snow

Wedding Invitation • Wedding Magazine • News Article

Short Summary

Commander Snow wants nothing more than to leave District 2. But why leave alone when he could take someone with him?

The Story

Morning comes quietly.

Too quietly.

Seraphina wakes slowly, her body still heavy with sleep, her mind drifting somewhere between warmth and something she can’t quite name yet.

The sheets are softer than anything she’s ever known, the air still warm, still safe.

Her eyes open. And for a moment, she doesn’t move.

The room is unfamiliar in the way it wasn’t last night, the details sharper now, clearer in the daylight filtering through the curtains.

Then it hits her. All at once.

This isn’t her apartment. This isn’t where she’s supposed to be.

Her body tenses under the blanket, her fingers curling into the fabric as the realization settles heavier and heavier in her chest.

The Commander’s bed.

She slept in the Commander’s bed.

Seraphina sits up too quickly, the blanket slipping slightly as panic flickers through her, her thoughts suddenly loud, sharp, overwhelming in a completely different way than before.

What was she thinking? Letting him touch her like that. Letting him take care of her. Letting herself stay.

She needs to leave, now, before he comes back, before anyone sees, before this turns into something she can’t undo.

Her feet hit the floor, cold against her skin, grounding in the worst way. Her clothes. Where are her clothes?

Her gaze flicks around the room, frantic now, her thoughts racing ahead of her.

She can’t stay.

A sharp knock on the door makes her freeze. Completely. Please don’t let it be him.

The door opens without waiting for an answer.

But it isn’t him. It’s Maris. And somehow that doesn’t make it better.

Maris steps inside like this is normal. Like there is nothing strange about this at all. Like girls wake up in the Commander’s bed every morning and no one questions it.

Her expression barely shifts as her eyes land on Seraphina standing beside the bed, disheveled, tense, clearly not where she’s supposed to be.

“Miss.”

Maris doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t question. Doesn’t even look surprised.

Seraphina feels like she’s going to die out of embarrassment. What would her mother think if she saw her right now? Standing in the Commander’s bedroom.

“The Commander would like to see you in his office.”

Her tone is polite, composed, as if she’s delivering a routine message, as if this happens every day.

Seraphina just stares at her for a second, her thoughts stumbling, trying to catch up.

“He..”

Her voice falters slightly. 

“He’s already-?”

“Working, yes.”

Of course he is.

“And he asked that you come as soon as you’re ready. I suggest you don’t keep him waiting”

“Yes. Of course.”

Seraphina answers, even though she doesn’t move from her spot.

It feels like her feet are glued to the ground, as if she’s physically not able to move even though she wants to run away. 

Maris doesn’t sigh, she doesn’t even show any sign of irritation. Maris feels bad for the girl in front of her, the girl who’s got the Commander’s attention. Maris knows how he gets when he’s intrigued by something. 

He never lets go of it.

His secretary knows how this will end, Seraphina will never leave his grasp.

All that she can do is help her in the best way she can. She can’t help her escape her fate, but she can help her by making sure she understands what to do and how to not make mistakes.

“You’ll need to get dressed.”

Maris moves toward a chair near the bed, where neatly folded clothes have been placed, untouched.

Seraphina’s stomach drops.

“He had those brought in earlier.”

Earlier. Before she even woke up. Before she even had the chance to leave.

Maris lifts the clothes from the chair with practiced ease, shaking them out slightly before stepping closer, her movements efficient, unhurried.

“Come.”

 Maris says gently, not unkind, but not soft either. 

“He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Seraphina hesitates for half a second longer.

Then she moves.

Maris steps behind her, guiding her without touching at first, then lightly adjusting her position when she doesn’t move quickly enough, her hands brief, precise.

Seraphina swallows, giving a small nod as she starts to move, her hands clumsy as she tries to figure out where to even begin.

The dress.

It’s too neat. Too untouched. Like it belongs to someone else.

To a girl from the Capitol, not a girl from district 2.

Maris steps closer before she can struggle with it for too long, her movements efficient as she gently takes part of the fabric from Seraphina’s hands.

“Arms up.”

The instruction is soft, but practiced. Seraphina hesitates, only for a second but then she obeys.

The fabric slides over her skin, cool at first, then settling, Maris guiding it into place with careful, precise movements, smoothing it down like she’s done this a hundred times before.

“There.”

She murmurs, adjusting the seams at her shoulders, then stepping back just slightly to look at her properly.

Seraphina feels exposed. Not because of the dress. But because of the situation. Because this is being treated like something normal.

Like they didn’t meet just yesterday. Like he’s not the Commander who’s keeping her brother in jail.

“You should fix your hair as well.”

Maris adds after a moment, stepping toward the vanity, already reaching for a brush.

Seraphina stills briefly at that.

Last night flickers through her mind, his hands in her hair, the slow, careful movements, the way he took his time.

“I… it’s fine.”

She murmurs quickly, almost too quickly.

Maris doesn’t argue. But she doesn’t agree either. Instead, she holds the brush out.

Seraphina hesitates.

Then takes it.

Her fingers move through her hair, slower than they should, her thoughts elsewhere, her pulse still uneven.

Every second feels like it’s pulling her closer to something she isn’t ready for. Something she doesn’t understand.

When she finishes, Maris gives a small nod.

“Better.”

A pause.

“Listen to me.”

Maris says quietly, her voice dropping just enough that it feels more private now, more intentional.

Seraphina looks at her. Really looks this time.

“He’s in a… good mood today.”

There’s a pause. Like that alone should mean something.

Like it’s important.

“You’ll want to keep it that way.”

Seraphina’s fingers tighten slightly at her sides.

“I don’t.. I don’t know what that means.”

Maris studies her for a second, something almost sympathetic flickering behind her otherwise composed expression.

“It means you answer when he asks you something.”

Calm.

Measured.

“It means you don’t interrupt him.”

She steps closer again, reaching up to gently fix a stray strand of Seraphina’s hair, smoothing it back into place with careful precision.

“And it means you obey when he gives you an order.”

That lands. Seraphina’s breath catches slightly.

Maris notices.

“He’s not cruel.”

She adds after a moment, softer now, though there’s something careful in the way she says it. 

“But he is… particular.”

Her hand lingers for just a second longer at Seraphina’s hair before dropping back to her side. Maris doesn’t look away. Not inappropriately. Just observant.

Making sure everything is correct.

“Come.”

Maris guides Seraphina out of the bedroom, through his apartment. When they pass the bathroom, Seraphina thinks about last night. How she sat there in his bathtub while he brushed through her hair. 

God, the Commander has seen her naked and now she has to face him again?

The hallway outside is already alive. Footsteps echo. Voices carry. People notice.

A pair of guards glance up as she steps past them, their eyes lingering a moment too long, taking in the neatness of her clothes, the way she carries herself, the way her cheeks are still slightly flushed.

Workers and messengers move quickly past the command center slowly, curiosity flickering in their eyes, and Seraphina feels it all, the awareness of hundreds of small gazes weighing down on her.

Maris walks ahead, perfectly composed, leaving her in their line of sight just long enough to make her feel exposed without unkindness.

“This way,” Maris says, voice calm, instructive.

Seraphina nods.

Her steps echo against the polished floors, every footfall louder than it should be, carrying through the compound like an announcement: She is here.

“Commander Snow already had his morning meetings.”

Seraphina nods again.

Even more heads turn as she passes the common areas, whispering and staring, some curious, some cautious, some plainly intrigued. 

She can feel their attention like a weight pressing at her back, and she stiffens, pulling her shoulders back, trying to make herself smaller, invisible, but she can’t.

Because she isn’t invisible. Because last night changed that.

Because Commander Snow doesn’t let anyone leave unnoticed once he’s chosen them.

They stop outside a door. Large. Closed. Important.

Maris turns slightly toward her, just enough for her voice to reach without carrying.

“Knock.”

A brief pause.

“And wait.”

Seraphina swallows hard, her throat dry.

For a second, she considers turning around, running, pretending none of this ever happened. Pretending she never stepped inside this place at all.

But then she knocks.

And waits.

It doesn’t take long for her knock to be answered.

“Come in.”

Maris opens the door. Coriolanus sits behind his desk, already composed, already in control, as if the night before never happened.

Uniform perfect. Posture perfect. Everything exactly as it should be. Except for the way his eyes lift immediately to her.

“Leave us.”

Maris doesn’t hesitate. The door closes. And just like that, they’re alone again.

Seraphina stops a few steps inside, unsure where to stand, what to do with her hands, her body, her breathing. She tries to remember everything that Maris told her, but she can’t think clearly now that she’s this close to him again.

He doesn’t make her wait long.

“Come here.”

Not a suggestion.

She moves slowly at first. Then faster when his gaze sharpens just slightly. By the time she reaches the desk, her heart is already racing again.

“Closer.”

She obeys.

And then before she can think, before she can react, his hand wraps around her wrist. Firm. And he pulls her forward.

Straight into his lap.

A soft gasp escapes her before she can stop it, her hands instinctively bracing against his shoulders as she’s forced to sit sideways across him.

“Sir-”

“Relax.”

His voice is low, right near her ear. Too close.

“Or you’ll make this more difficult for yourself.”

His arm settles around her waist. Secure. Unmoving. Not allowing distance. Not allowing escape.

Her body stiffens at first, she knows she can’t fight him. But after a few seconds, the position becomes comfortable and it all starts to feel natural, and Seraphina relaxes.

“That’s better.”

He adjusts her position like it’s nothing, like it’s natural, like she belongs there, on him.

Owned. Displayed. Used.

“Arms.”

He instructs softly, but firmly. Seraphina hesitates, breath catching.

“Up.” 

He clarifies, one hand tilting her chin ever so slightly, the gesture gentle but insistent.

Her arms rise slowly, trembling slightly, and she rests them around his neck. Her fingers brush the nape of his collar, the sensation both grounding and unnerving.

His hands settle lightly on her waist, steadying her, keeping her rooted, and she realizes she doesn’t need to fight it.

His free hand reaches for a folder on the desk. He opens it slowly, deliberately, turning it so she can see. 

Photographs. Rows of them. Faces. Peacekeepers. Each one neatly printed, labeled. Ordered.

Her breath catches.

“This is your job now.”

His fingers press lightly against her waist as he speaks, grounding her in place.

“You’re going to help me identify the peacekeepers you saw yesterday.”

Her eyes flick up to him, panic flickering.

“I..I don’t know if I can-”

“You can.”

He cuts her off gently.

Too gently.

His thumb brushes slowly against her side, a subtle reminder. A warning.

“You said they spoke to you.”

A pause.

“You remember that.”

Her throat tightens.

“Yes…”

“Good.”

He leans in slightly, his voice lowering further.

“Then you’ll remember their faces.”

His hand leaves her waist only long enough to guide hers forward. To the photos. His fingers wrap around her wrist again, not harsh, but unyielding.

“Point.”

She hesitates. Just for a second.

His grip tightens. Not enough to hurt. Enough to remind.

Seraphina swallows, her eyes scanning the faces, heart pounding louder with every second.

And then she sees him. The one who stepped forward. The one who spoke.

Her hand trembles as she lifts it.

“…him.”

Her finger hovers, then lands on the photograph.

Coriolanus goes still. A smile. Small. Dangerous.

“I see.”

His arm tightens around her waist again, pulling her slightly closer without thinking.

Or maybe thinking very clearly.

“And the others?”

His tone is calm again.

She forces herself to look again.

Another face.

Her breathing becomes uneven, but she points them out one by one.

Each time he watches. Not the photos. Her.

He watches how she reacts, what affects her, what breaks her. When she’s done, her hand drops back into her lap, trembling.

“Only these four..”

For a moment, there is silence. Heavy.

“I figured you’d be a good girl.”

The praise is quiet. But it lands hard.

His hand returns to her waist, slower this time.. Not urgent. Not demanding. Just there.

“These four.”

He repeats it quietly, almost to himself, as if weighing something unseen, something already being put into motion behind his composed expression.

Then his attention shifts back to her.

His grip softens just slightly, his thumb tracing an absentminded line along her side, slower now, less about control and more about awareness.

Awareness of her, of the way she’s sitting so carefully in his lap, of the tension still lingering in her body.

“You did well.”

The words are softer than before. Warmer. Different.

Seraphina swallows, her shoulders still tight, her gaze fixed somewhere near his collar instead of his eyes, as if looking at him directly would make everything too real again.

He notices that too.

“Are you comfortable?”

The question comes unexpectedly, his voice dipping just slightly, something almost amused threading through it.

Seraphina stills. Comfortable?

She’s sitting on the Commander’s lap. In his office. Surrounded by evidence of what she just confessed. Her face warms instantly.

“I-” She falters, her fingers tightening slightly where they still rest near his collar.

He watches the reaction with quiet interest. That small shift. That hesitation. That blush.

“There it is.”

His voice lowers, softer, edged with something unmistakably teasing now.Her breath catches.

“I didn’t say anything.”

She murmurs quickly, almost defensively, her gaze dropping further.

“No.”

He agrees easily.His hand moves, not to force her to look at him, but to tilt her just slightly closer instead.

“You didn’t, but you don’t need to.”

His thumb brushes once along her side again, slow, deliberate, and her shoulders tense before betraying her, relaxing just a fraction into the touch.

Her face burns hotter. Without thinking, without meaning to, she shifts closer. Just slightly.

Just enough that her face turns into the space near his neck, hiding there instead of facing him.

The movement is small, but it’s everything.

Coriolanus stills for half a second. Then a quiet exhale. Amused.

“There. That's better.”

His hand slides up her back, slow and controlled, not pushing, not pulling, just settling there, keeping her where she chose to be.

“Hiding already?”

The words are murmured near her ear now, low, teasing, but not unkind. Seraphina doesn’t answer.

Her fingers curl slightly into the fabric at his shoulder, her breathing uneven again, but not from panic this time.

His hand stills briefly against her back, feeling the shift in her breathing, the way it changes when she presses closer instead of pulling away, and something about that seems to settle him in a way nothing else has this morning.

“How did you sleep?”

The question comes softer. Simpler. As if the moment before didn’t happen at all, as if he didn’t just pull every reaction out of her with quiet precision.

Seraphina blinks against his shoulder, the change catching her off guard, her thoughts stumbling as she tries to follow.

“I… slept.”

She answers after a second, her voice quieter now, still uneven at the edges. He exhales softly, something almost like a quiet laugh under his breath.

“I would hope so.”

His hand slides slightly lower along her back, then stills again, resting there, steady.

“Was it comfortable?” 

He asks, and this time the question feels more deliberate, more pointed, like he already knows the answer and is simply waiting to hear her say it.

She hesitates, because it was the most comfortable she’s ever been. Because that’s the problem.

“Yes..”

 Seraphina admits finally, barely above a whisper.

“Good.”

The word is simple, but there’s something satisfied in it, something that settles deeper than it should.

His fingers shift again, just slightly, brushing once along her side in a slow, absent motion.

Short Summary

Commander Snow wants nothing more than to leave District 2. But why leave alone when he could take someone with him?

The Story

By the third day, it’s no longer a secret. She walks through the compound, and everyone notices. Whispers trail behind her like shadows, carrying her new, unspoken title. 

The Commander’s girl.

Seraphina feels the weight of their eyes as she moves past. 

Soldiers glance up from drills, officers pause mid-step, and even Maris doesn’t look away when she passes.

She keeps her head down, careful, though every subtle gesture, a lowered gaze, the flush rising in her cheeks, marks her in their minds.

She isn’t invisible anymore.

She’s his. 

Not officially, perhaps, but enough that everyone knows she belongs to Coriolanus in some way. And that knowledge is both terrifying and oddly… thrilling.

She hears it first as a soft murmur while walking past the mess hall.

 “That’s Snow’s girl…”

A soldier nearby snickers under his breath. Another whisper.

 “Bet she’s spoiled already.”

She tightens her grip on the strap of her bag, wishing the earth would swallow her up. She wants to hide, run, disappear, but she can’t.

She can’t, because if she tries, he will notice. And that thought alone keeps her feet moving, however stiffly, however reluctantly.

It happens later that afternoon. She doesn’t mean to bring it up.

Really, she doesn’t.

They’re in his office again, the door closed, the familiar quiet settling around them like a second skin.

Seraphina stands near his desk, fidgeting slightly with the sleeve of her dress, while Coriolanus reviews something on paper.

Or at least pretends to.

Because his attention drifts back to her every few seconds anyway.

“You’re distracted.”

He doesn’t look up when he says it. She startles slightly.

“I..I’m not.”

Now he looks at her. One brow lifts, unimpressed.

“Try again.”

Her fingers twist tighter into the fabric. She hesitates, then exhales softly.

“I just… heard something earlier.”

That gets his attention. Fully. The paper is set aside without a second thought.

“What did you hear?”

His tone is calm, but there’s an edge beneath it. Not anger. Interest. Possession.

Seraphina shifts her weight slightly, glancing down before forcing herself to speak.

“Some of the peacekeepers were talking.”

A pause. His hand reaches for her, rests on her waist. 

“They said… they said I’m ‘Snow’s girl’.’”

The faintest curl of a smile. Not offended. Not angry. Amused.

“I see.”

He leans back slightly in his chair, studying her now, eyes slow and deliberate as they take in every reaction, every flicker of embarrassment on her face.

“And?”

She hesitates again, cheeks warming.

“They also said..” 

She trails off, already regretting bringing it up. Coriolanus tilts his head.

“Go on.”

His voice is softer now. Encouraging. Teasing.

“They said they bet I’m… spoiled already.”

The words come out quieter than she intended, her face burns immediately after.

For a moment he says nothing. Then he laughs, genuinely amused. It’s not mocking, it’s pleased.

“Did they now?”

He leans forward slightly, resting his arms on the desk, gaze locking onto hers with something sharp and entertained.

“Well, do you believe that they are correct?”

The heat in her cheeks spreads instantly, and she looks away, embarrassed, but he doesn’t let her hide for long.

“Come here.”

She obeys, slowly she moves closer. When she’s close enough, he reaches out, two hands settling on her waist, pulling her into his lap like he has done multiple times this week.

It has become this ritual. Every day she’s walked to his office by Maris, who leaves her alone once Seraphina stands in front of the wooden office doors. 

Coriolanus calls her in and she spends most of the time perched on his lap, waiting patiently while he files reports and signs documents. Sometimes he asks her to fetch him something to drink, or he orders her to play with the hair on the back of his neck.

Sometimes Seraphina feels embarrassed, being used like a little maid by the Commander of district 2. She’s supposed to hate him, her brother is probably still locked up, but he treats her so well it’s hard to think about that.

“Do you feel spoiled?”

The question is quiet. Her lips part slightly, but no answer comes. Because what is she supposed to say?

He watches her struggle for a second, then hums softly.

“Let me help you.”

His thumb lingers at her cheek for a moment, brushing away the heat there as if he’s the one who put it there to begin with, his gaze fixed on her face like he’s studying something delicate, something that belongs entirely to him now.

“You stay in my rooms, you wear what I provide, you come when I call, and you sit exactly where I put you.”

His fingers slide from her cheek to her chin, tilting her face just enough that she has to look at him, and can't hide in the space between them this time.

“And you’re taken care of.”

The words soften slightly at the end, but they don’t lose their weight.

“Better than anyone else in this compound.”

Seraphina’s breath catches, her hands still where they rest against him, unsure whether to pull away or stay exactly as she is.

He watches that hesitation too. Always.

“So.”

 He murmurs, his thumb brushing once more along her cheekbone, slower now, almost absent.

“I’ll ask you again.”

A small pause.

“Do you feel spoiled?”

Her lips part, but nothing comes out immediately. 

Because the answer is there, sitting heavy in her chest, complicated and confusing and impossible to say without making everything more real.

“I don’t know.”

Seraphina admits finally, her voice quiet, uncertain. He studies her for a second longer.

Then a faint smile returns. Softer this time. But no less knowing.

“You do.”

His hand slides from her face back to her waist, settling there like it belongs, like it’s always been there.

“You’re just not used to admitting it yet.”

Her cheeks burn again, stronger this time, and without thinking she looks away, trying to escape the weight of his gaze.

His hand shifts immediately, guiding her back, not forcefully, just enough.

“Don’t hide.”

The words are quiet. But they land all the same.

“You came to me.”

His voice lowers just slightly.

“You stayed.”

Another pause.

“And now you sit here.”

His fingers press just a fraction firmer at her waist, grounding her again, reminding her exactly where she is.

“With me.”

***

The next few days shift something in the Compound.

At first, it’s subtle.

A different kind of attention when Seraphina walks past. Conversations that quiet just a second too late. Glances that linger a little too long before snapping away the moment she looks up.

And then it stops being subtle because Commander Snow makes sure of it.

It starts with small things.

A new dress appears in her apartment one morning, soft fabric, far finer than anything she’s ever owned. Capitol-made, without a doubt. It fits her perfectly, as if it had been tailored specifically for her.

Then comes breakfast.

Not the standard meals distributed to workers or even officers, but something else entirely, fresh fruit, warm bread, real butter. Delivered daily. 

Always with a quiet, “From the Commander.”

Then the roses.

Always fresh. Always replaced before they can wilt.

Her apartment slowly stops feeling like a cage and starts feeling like something else. Something curated. Controlled. Built for her.

Built for him.

***

By the third day, no one bothers pretending anymore.

“Snow’s girl.” 

Someone mutters as she passes.

Another voice, quieter but not quiet enough.

 “Lucky thing.”

Seraphina doesn’t know what to do with that.

Because it doesn’t feel like luck, but it doesn’t feel entirely like a punishment anymore either.

And that confuses her more than anything.

Coriolanus, on the other hand, seems pleased.

He calls her to his office more often now, always opening his arms for her to fall into, occasionally pressing a kiss to her cheek when she’s not paying attention.

Possessive in a way that doesn’t need to be said out loud.

***

That afternoon, she’s standing by his desk again, fingers nervously brushing against the fabric of her new dress when he looks up from his papers.

“They fit you well.”

Her cheeks warm immediately.

“Thank you.”

He leans back in his chair slightly, studying her like he always does, like she’s something he’s still figuring out, something he’s already decided belongs to him.

“You don’t sound very convinced.”

“I am.”

Seraphina says quickly, then softer.

“They’re just… nicer than I’m used to.”

A faint smile pulls at his lips.

“I know.”

That’s the point. He gestures toward him.

“Come here.”

She obeys without hesitation now. 

That, more than anything, seems to satisfy him. When she reaches his desk, he doesn’t stop her there.

His hand finds her wrist, gentle but firm and tugs. Effortless.

She ends up in his lap again. Like it’s natural. Like it’s expected.

“Comfortable?”

 Coriolanus murmurs near her ear.

There’s that teasing tone again.

Her breath catches slightly, but she nods.

His fingers brush lightly over the fabric at her waist, absent-minded, almost casual but not really. Nothing he does is accidental.

“You’ll get used to it.” 

“To what?”

“This.”

His hand tightens just slightly.

“Being taken care of.”

Seraphina stills slightly at that, her fingers tightening where they rest against his shoulder, the words settling somewhere deep, somewhere she doesn’t quite know how to respond to.

Being taken care of.

It sounds gentle. It doesn’t feel optional.

“I…”

She starts, but the words don’t come easily, her thoughts tangling somewhere between gratitude and something far more uncertain.

He watches her for a moment, that same quiet, patient observation, as if he has all the time in the world to let her figure it out.

Then, slowly, he shifts. Not away from her. Never that.

But forward, his attention sharpening just slightly, something more deliberate settling into his expression.

“You won’t be staying in that apartment anymore.”

The words come easily. Casually. Like he’s commenting on the weather.

Seraphina blinks. Her breath catches.

“I…what?”

For the first time in days, she pulls back just slightly, just enough to look at him properly, confusion flickering across her face.

“My apartment…”

“It’s inadequate.”

He cuts in smoothly, not harsh, not raised, just certain.

His hand remains at her waist, anchoring her in place even as she shifts.

“It’s small. Poorly placed. Too exposed.”

Each word lands like it’s already been decided, already filed away, already solved.

“And I don’t like the idea of you being there without me.”

That part is quieter, more honest. More dangerous.

Seraphina’s heart stutters at that, her fingers loosening slightly against him before tightening again.

“You’ll stay with me.”

Not a question. Not a suggestion. A decision.

Her breath catches again, sharper this time.

“In your… apartment?”

She already knows the answer. Still, she asks.

He tilts his head slightly, studying her reaction, the faint tension, the uncertainty, the way she hasn’t pulled away completely.

“Where else?”

There’s the faintest hint of amusement again, his eyes flicker and a smirk appears on his face.

But it doesn’t soften the weight of it.

“You’ve already spent a night in my bed.”

That lands, because it’s true.

His hand slides slightly higher along her back, slow, deliberate.

“It’s safer.”

Another pause.

“For you.”

His gaze doesn’t leave hers now.

“And more convenient.”

For him.

He doesn’t say it.

He doesn’t need to.

Seraphina swallows, her thoughts racing, trying to find something to hold onto, something to push back with, but nothing comes out.

Because every argument feels smaller than the way he says it.

Smaller than the way he’s already decided.

Her silence stretches just a second too long. He notices.

“You’re thinking too much.”

His voice softens again, just slightly, his hand making his way to her neck, settling there, holding her still.

“You’ll have everything you need.”

Seraphina tries to move, tries to look away from his burning eyes, His fingers dig into her neck, not harsh, not painful, just to remind her she doesn’t move unless he allows it.

“And I’ll know where you are.”

That’s the real reason. It settles between them, unspoken but clear. His hand steadies at her waist again.

“Maris will have your things moved.”

Already arranged. Already in motion.

Seraphina exhales slowly, her shoulders lowering just slightly, not quite relaxing, not quite resisting either.

Caught somewhere in between.

“Okay.” 

She says finally, the word quiet, almost uncertain. But it’s enough, it always is.

A faint smile touches his lips.

“Good.”

His hand tightens just slightly at her waist, pulling her a fraction closer again, as if sealing it, as if confirming what’s already his.

Short Summary

Commander Snow wants nothing more than to leave District 2. But why leave alone when he could take someone with him?

The Story:

The moment the door closes behind them, the world outside seems to vanish entirely, as if the rain, the mud, the distant voices, and even the memory of that girl are all sealed away on the other side of the wood, cut off so completely that they almost feel unreal.

Warmth replaces it almost instantly, wrapping around Seraphina in a way that feels foreign after the cold, biting rain, but she barely has the presence of mind to notice it.

She doesn’t quite register how he gets her inside. 

One moment she is standing in the doorway, soaked through, trembling, her breath uneven and fragile, and the next she is being guided further into the apartment, his hand firm against her back as he steers her forward with quiet certainty, as if every step she takes has already been decided for her.

“Don’t move.”

He says, his voice lower now, stripped of the sharp edge it carried outside, but no less commanding.

She obeys without thinking, her body responding before her mind can catch up, as water continues to drip steadily from her dress onto the polished floor beneath her feet, leaving behind muddy traces.

He doesn’t react to the mess, doesn’t scold her or even glance at it with irritation, because his focus has already shifted elsewhere, his attention fixed entirely on her.

Coriolanus shrugs off his soaked coat and discards it somewhere behind him without a second thought, the movement careless in a way that feels deliberate.

Even when his back is turned, there is an undeniable sense that he is still watching her, still aware of every small movement she makes.

“You’re freezing.”

He says, not as a question but as a statement of fact, as if her condition is something unacceptable, something that must be corrected immediately.

Before she can respond, he disappears into another room, leaving her standing there alone for only a moment, her arms wrapped weakly around herself as her body continues to tremble, not just from the cold but from everything that still lingers too loudly in her mind.

She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, with her body, with the overwhelming sense that she does not belong in a place like this.

Seraphina never would’ve thought leaving her apartment would lead to this, in the Commander’s apartment.

Then the sound of running water fills the apartment.

She blinks, her thoughts stumbling over themselves as realization slowly sets in.

A bath.

He returns only seconds later, already composed again despite the dampness still clinging to him, his sleeves rolled and his expression as controlled as ever, as though the storm outside had never touched him at all.

In his hands, he carries fabric, soft, clean, neatly folded, and he steps toward her with that same quiet certainty, holding it out

When she reaches for it, he does not let go immediately, his fingers brushing against hers with a deliberateness that feels impossible to ignore.

“For you.” 

He says, his voice even, measured, as if this is nothing out of the ordinary.

“You’ll change after.”

He continues, a brief pause following before he adds, almost casually.

“I’ll help you clean up first.”

Her breath catches at that, her fingers tightening slightly around the fabric as uncertainty flickers across her face.

“I can… I can do it myself.”

She manages, though her voice lacks strength, lacking any real conviction, the words sounding more like a reflex than a decision.

His expression barely shifts, but something sharper moves behind his eyes, something that settles the moment firmly back under his control.

“No.”

He says quietly, not raising his voice, not showing anger, but leaving no space for argument, no room for interpretation.

“You can barely stand.”

Before she can try again, before she can gather enough courage to push back, he is already moving.

His hands come to rest at her shoulders as he steadies her, guiding her toward the bathroom with a gentleness that still feels entirely controlled, entirely intentional, as if he is already anticipating every place where she might falter.

Steam curls out into the hallway as they step inside, the warmth of the room hitting her immediately, overwhelming in contrast to the cold that still clings to her skin.

“Sit.”

He instructs, gesturing toward the edge of the tub, and she obeys without hesitation, lowering herself down as her fingers instinctively grip the fabric of her soaked dress, unsure, hesitant.

When his fingers move to the ties of her dress, she pulls back, scenes of the poor girl with the peacekeepers flash before her eyes.

Coriolanus notices.

“I’m just helping you.”

He reminds her. Before she can decide whether to pull away further or comply, his fingers move to the ties of her dress, undoing them without any rush.

The soaked fabric begins to loosen, peeling away from her skin where it clings, heavy and ruined from the rain and the mud.

He does not look away, not once, his attention unwavering.

And yet his touch remains careful, controlled, almost gentle in a way that feels at odds with everything else about him.

He sets the ruined dress aside as if it holds no importance at all, as if it is something easily replaced, something not worth a second thought.

“You’re shaking, darling.”

He murmurs again. Then his hands guide her forward, steady and certain, easing her into the bath.

The water is warm, almost too warm at first, but it makes her shoulders drop without permission, a small, broken breath escaping her before she can stop it.

Relief.

He notices that too.

“That’s better, huh?” 

He kneels beside the tub, lowering himself without hesitation, the movement striking in its contrast to the authority he carries everywhere else.

Seraphina watches him with wide, uncertain eyes as he reaches for a cloth, dipping it into the water before bringing it to her arm.

His movements are slow and deliberate as he wipes away the mud and dirt, erasing the visible traces of what she has been through as if he can undo it entirely.

Seraphina can’t believe this is truly happening. 

Commander Snow kneeling beside her, washing the mud from her hands while she’s sitting naked in the warmest bath she ever had. She never thought he was capable of doing something like this, something so sweet.

She lets her cheek rest against the edge of the bathtub, too tired to keep herself upright, observing the man who was washing her. Commander Snow looks at her and smiles softly, before turning his attention back to getting her clean.

Coriolanus had to look away when she looked at him like that, he could’ve kissed her right there. The fact that she was here in this apartment, in his bathtub, made him feel things he couldn’t say out loud.

For a moment, she just sits there, unmoving.

Coriolanus doesn’t leave.

Instead, he rolls up his sleeves a little higher and reaches for something on the counter, a brush.

“Lean back.”

Her breath catches. But she does. Slowly.

Her wet hair clings to her skin as she shifts, and then his hand is there again, gathering it gently, lifting it away from her back.

The first pull of the brush makes her flinch.

His movements change after that.

He works through the knots patiently, starting at the ends, easing them apart instead of forcing them.

“You shouldn’t let it get like this.”

He murmurs, almost to himself, his fingers occasionally slipping through her hair between strokes, separating and smoothing it with quiet precision.

The motion becomes rhythmic, almost soothing despite everything, and Seraphina feels her body begin to relax in spite of herself, her shoulders lowering, her breathing evening out just slightly.

He notices that too. He notices everything.

A faint smile touches his lips as he watches the way she lets herself settle, the way she stops trembling, even if only a little.

“I’ve never had a bath like this.”

Seraphina admits. She doesn’t know why she’s saying it, surely the Commander isn’t interested in the fact she never had a bath like this.

For a brief moment, Coriolanus pauses.

Not fully, his hand stills in her hair, the brush caught between strands. But there is a shift, subtle and fleeting, as his attention sharpens on her words.

“No?”

Seraphina shakes her head slightly against the edge of the tub, her cheek still resting there, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. 

“Well I’ve never had to bathe someone quite like you.”

He murmurs in reply, low and measured, and she can feel the weight of the statement settle around her, strange, intimate, almost confessional.

“It tangles at the smallest thing, doesn’t it?”

Coriolanus continues, cursing himself for letting his feelings get the best of him, even though she giggles at his statement. He brushes slowly through a stubborn knot near her nape, and she flinches slightly at the motion, though it doesn’t hurt.

His hand resumes its movement, slower now, more deliberate, the brush gliding through her hair with careful precision as he smooths out the last of the tangles, his fingers following after each stroke as if to ensure nothing has been missed.

When he finishes, he sets the brush aside, his hand lingering briefly at the back of her neck, resting there in a way that feels deliberate, possessive, as if marking something unspoken.

He doesn’t let go immediately. His hand remains at the back of her neck, steadying her, guiding her as she shifts, shivering slightly, water still clinging to her skin. 

The warmth of the room presses against her, and the steam curls around them, wrapping them both in a soft haze.

“Come on.”

He murmurs, almost to himself. 

“Stand.”

Her legs tremble as she lifts herself from the tub. She feels exposed, dripping, vulnerable, and yet he is there, firm and unyielding, supporting her with his hands at her waist.

His fingers brush lightly against her sides in a careful, deliberate hold that doesn’t startle but grounds her.

He dries her skin the same way he cleaned it, thorough, attentive, like nothing about her should be overlooked. Like every inch matters.

He steps back slightly, watching her balance, the expression on his face unreadable yet focused. 

“Arms up.” 

He instructs. Just two simple words, quiet, measured, leaving no room for argument.

She hesitates, unsure, but the command carries the same weight as before. Obedience comes naturally, reflexively, and she lifts her arms.

He moves closer, carefully sliding the fabric of the clean clothes over her shoulders, easing it down without any rush, fingers grazing her skin just enough to remind her that he is present, aware, in complete control of the moment.

Her fingers fumble slightly as the clothes settle into place, but he doesn’t scold or sigh.

The clean clothes he gave her are too big. Clearly not hers. The fabric hangs off her frame, the sleeves slipping past her wrists, the shirt brushing against her thighs.

She doesn’t ask whose they are. She doesn’t want to know.

When she’s fully dressed, he takes a step back. 

And he looks at her.

The way the fabric sits on her. The way she disappears into it. The way it makes her look even more fragile than she already is.

Perfect.

“Come.”

He offers his hand, which she takes without a second thought. She follows him.

Through the apartment. Past the living room. Into a space she hasn’t seen yet.

His bedroom.

He guides her to the bed, one hand lightly at her back, the other hovering close. Ready to catch her if she falters.

“Lay down.”

She does.

The mattress dips beneath her weight, far too soft compared to anything she’s used to. Even softer than the bed in her new apartment. It feels wrong. Like she doesn’t belong here.

Like she shouldn’t be allowed to be here in the Commander’s bedroom.

Seraphina lowers herself slowly, carefully, like the bed might reject her if she moves too fast. The blankets are smooth beneath her fingers, cool against her skin before her body heat begins to warm them.

She curls slightly without meaning to. It’s too comfortable not to.

He moves closer and sits at the edge of the bed. The mattress shifts again under his weight, but she doesn’t move away.

She doesn’t move at all.

His hand comes up, slow, deliberate, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. Tucking it behind her ear with a care that feels far too intimate for what this is.

For what this should be.

He pulls the blanket over her without asking. Adjusts it on her shoulders. He tucks her in like she’s his girl.

Because she is. She just doesn’t know it yet.

He looks at her, completely taking her in.

Wet hair now clean and brushed, skin no longer covered in mud, dressed in something that belongs here, belongs to him.

Better. Much better. Just the way it should be.

And forever will be.

“Look at me.”

He commands softly, leaning closer, the rainlight catching the sharp angles of his face. 

“I want you to tell me everything again. Every detail. Don’t leave anything out. I need to hear it from you.”

Her throat tightens. 

The memory of the girl, the abuse, the laughter of the peacekeepers, it churns in her stomach, makes her chest ache, and her fingers clutch at the sheet. 

“I… I don’t want to.”

Seraphina whispers, voice trembling. 

“It’s… it’s too horrible.”

“Start from the moment you left your apartment.”

He prompts gently, almost coaxing. Coriolanus needs to know what made his girl so upset.

“Tell me, darling. I need to know.”

She swallows hard, voice trembling, eyes flicking to his. The storm outside thunders in the distance, rain still pelting against the windows, but here in this room, it feels like the world has contracted to just the two of them, to just this moment.

He rests a hand on her arm, his presence prompting her to talk.

“I couldn’t sleep, I needed some fresh air. Everything was fine, I was just…walking.”

He does not interrupt. Does not shift. Does not breathe louder than necessary. He simply listens. Every word, every pause, every tremor in her voice.

“But then I..heard something. And I know I should’ve turned around, I should’ve gone back to the apartment but I…something made me follow it.”

Her fingers clutch the blanket tighter.

“And then I..saw it.”

Seraphina swallows hard, tears spilling down her cheeks again, the room suddenly too warm and too heavy. The memory is too fresh, too painful. She saw the truth, she saw what truly happens to district girls like her.

The way the peacekeepers laughed at her and the fact that they seemed to enjoy it, makes her want to throw up.

Coriolanus leans forward, his hand coming to her face to wipe away the tears. It hurts him to see her like this, so upset over something he doesn’t understand yet. He’ll make the people who did to her pay, no matter what.

“Go on.”

He coos.

She doesn’t. She can’t. It feels like something is pressing down her throat, making it impossible to say anything. Her chest quickens, the panic creeping back as the memory claws up her spine.

Commander Snow curses under his breath and quickly makes her way around the bed, getting rid of his shoes before crawling onto it from the other side.

First, she feels his chest pressed against her back, then she feels two hands at her waist. Seraphina is turned around, pulled right into him, laying on his chest. One hand rests on her waist while the other wipes her cheeks.

“Shh, it’s okay.” 

His voice is quieter now, close to her ear, the sound of it low and steady in a way that seems to cut through the panic clawing at her chest.

Seraphina doesn’t pull away. She can’t. Not when his presence is the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely. Her fingers clutch weakly at the fabric of his shirt, seeking something solid, something real, as her breathing stutters unevenly.

His lips brush her temple. Not quite a kiss, but something close to it. 

The contact is brief, but it steadies her in a way nothing else has. His breath is warm against her skin, his hold firm

“Breathe.”

He murmurs softly, his hand tightening just slightly at her waist, not restraining, just holding her there, keeping her from slipping away into the panic that still threatens to take over.

Seraphina tries. 

Her breaths come uneven at first, shallow and broken, but slowly, with his steady presence behind her, they begin to settle, her body responding to the quiet rhythm he seems to impose without effort.

“There were peacekeepers.”

She starts.

“They had a girl.”

“What were they doing?”

The question is soft. Too soft. And that somehow makes it worse.

Silence fills the room. Heavy. Suffocating.

“They were..using her. She was naked. One of them had a whip..and she pressed against the wall and…”

She can’t finish it, she doesn’t have to. He understands.

Of course he does.

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.

“Go on.”

Another ‘almost kiss’ to her temple. Two hands at her waist, pressing her body close to his. The warmth of his body reaches her.

“They saw me. One of them laughed… and he said…”

She hesitates. Coriolanus’ eyes don’t leave her.

“Repeat it.”

There’s no softness now. Only command.

“He said… ‘you want to join, pretty girl? We can make room for one more.’”

The room goes still. Completely still.

For a moment, Coriolanus doesn’t move at all. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe.

And then something shifts. Subtle. But terrifying.

His hand curls around the fabric around her body.

“Who.”

It’s not even a full question. Coriolanus feels his anger rising. The person who dared to talk to her like that, like she’s some district slut, will pay for it. How dare he treat her like the usual district girl, instead of the perfect Capitol doll she will be?

“I don’t know, I didn’t-.”

“You saw his face.”

Seraphina doesn’t know what to say to it.

Coriolanus presses a kiss to her forehead, his hands rub over her arms to warm her up. Even though she’s taken a bath, wears fresh clothes and is tucked in his bed, Coriolanus can still feel the coldness radiating from her skin.

Even though he wants to have the answers right now and feels like the truth can’t wait ‘til tomorrow, he knows his girl needs to sleep. Coriolanus sees it in the way she can barely keep her eyes open and the way her body rests against his like he isn’t the Commander of district 2.

“You should get some sleep.”

Seraphina doesn’t argue. She doesn’t have the strength to.

Her body feels too heavy, too worn down, her thoughts still tangled somewhere between fear and exhaustion, and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her only makes it harder to hold onto anything else.

Her fingers loosen slightly in the fabric of his shirt. Not letting go. But no longer gripping as tightly.

Coriolanus notices that too.

Short Summary

Commander Snow wants nothing more than to leave District 2. But why leave alone when he could take someone with him?

Author's note

This part is still kinda the introduction but I promise you guys things will heat up in part 3! I hope you love this part xx

The Story:

Seraphina never thought she would find herself in this position. Locked up in a peacekeepers van, handcuffed, being taken to the main building.

Since her childhood it had been pretty clear, only criminals were taken to the main building in a peacekeeper's van, to be interrogated and locked up, waiting for their punishment.

But Seraphina wasn’t a criminal. 

Her brother was, even though she pretended she didn’t smell the gunpowder on his clothes after he had hung out with his friends. Seraphina tried to keep her eyes off the newspapers the next day, where they wrote about rebel activity.

Ignorance is bliss.

When her brother ran into their home and locked the door with a hurry she never saw before, she knew something had gone wrong. Her brother was caught.

“What’s going on?”

Seraphina had asked her brother and saw that he was carrying a gun. Drops of sweat were resting on his forehead and he was muttering things she couldn’t quite understand.

“I’m sorry.”

He had only said that before he pushed her in her bedroom.

“You need to stay here.”

He took off to the living room, where their parents were sitting. Seraphina rushed to the window in her bedroom and saw peacekeepers arriving. 

One of them noticed her peeking through the window and pointed at her, gaining the attention from other peacekeepers, she quickly ducked and crawled back to the door to lock it.

“How could you, Nyx!”

She heard her mother scream, followed by the sound of crying. Seraphina didn’t know what had happened, she might never find out if they hang him before she hears the verdict.

For a moment, it’s calm outside. The peacekeepers aren’t yelling anymore, they are surrounding the house in silence, their guns ready to shoot anyone trying to escape.

As if anyone would try.

Inside the house, it’s the complete opposite. Her parents are still shouting, Nyx keeps apologizing for God knows what and Seraphina is sitting on the floor, resting her head against the door. 

It’s only a matter of time before the peacekeepers get into their house. 

Seraphina can hear the sound of a car driving into their street. The peacekeepers start to mumble. Curiosity gets the best of her and she crawls towards the window. She spots the car and the person who gets out of it. Commander Snow.

He turns to a peacekeeper, who’s probably informing him about the situation. It’s not a detailed report, the Commander puts his peacekeepers to work within seconds.

A loud crack echoes through the house as the front door is forced open. The sound makes her flinch, her heart jumping straight into her throat.

Boots.

Heavy, fast, controlled.

Peacekeepers flood into the house like they own it, like they’ve done this a hundred times before. 

Maybe they have.

They probably have.

Her mother’s voice breaks into something panicked, her father trying to argue, his words cut short by a sharp command.

“On the ground!”

The room of her bedroom is forced open as well. A peacekeeper runs inside and yanks Seraphina from the ground by her upper arm. She doesn’t even try to resist and follows him to the hallway.

And for the first time, standing in the hallway, she saw him up close.

Commander Snow.

*

Seraphina is dragged through the main building. The secretaries look at her with sympathy, officers look at her with disgust. 

Seraphina doesn’t dare to look at anyone.

She is guarded by four peacekeepers, as if they assume she might try to escape. She thought the handcuffs were already unnecessary, but this is the cherry on top. She’s not the most wanted criminal in district 2, she’s the little sister of a boy who just got caught up with some wrong business.

Nyx isn’t a rebel. 

The four peacekeepers stop in front of a large wooden door.

“Commander Snow, we got the girl.”

For a moment, there is only silence on the other side of the door.

“Bring her in.”

His voice is calm. Controlled.

The door is pushed open. Seraphina is guided inside, her arm still firmly held, though she hasn’t resisted once. The Peacekeepers release her only once she’s fully inside, but they don’t leave. 

Commander Snow is standing near the window, his back turned to Seraphina and his four puppets. Seraphina notices he took off his coat hat he was wearing outside and his sleeves are rolled up, even a Commander is affected by the heat of district 2.

“Leave us.”

He commands without even looking from the window. The Peacekeepers hesitate for only a second before obeying. One by one, they file out, until the door closes again.

Seraphina stands where they left her, her hands still cuffed in front of her. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. 

Neither does he.

Commander Snow remains by the window for a moment longer, as if she isn’t there at all. As if she isn’t worth his attention yet.

Like this is just everyday business. 

Then he turns around and gestures toward his desk.

“Sit down.”

Seraphina obeys and walks towards the desk. She takes a seat and looks down at her cuffed hands. Who would’ve thought she would end up handcuffed in the Commander’s office this morning?

Commander Snow pours water in a glass and places it in front of her, before taking a seat across from her.

She can feel his eyes on her. Observing.

Seraphina shifts slightly in her chair, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze. It presses on her, heavy and deliberate, as if he’s trying to read every thought she’s trying to hide. She doesn’t dare meet his eyes.

“You should drink, the heat can get to you.”

Her eyes shoot up at the sound of concern in his voice. It was a command, yes, but wrapped with something genuine, care?

Seraphina can’t help but get annoyed. She has lived in district 2 since the day she was born, she knew how to deal with the heat. This Commander doesn’t need to tell her what to do, especially not something as simple as drinking water.

Besides, her hands are still cuffed.

She knows she’s playing with fire when she raises her hands to show him the handcuff, giving him an annoyed look, but she can’t help it.

The Commander doesn’t seem to mind. A subtle grin appears on his face.

“Aah, yes the cuffs.”

He opens a cabinet and seems to be searching for the keys to uncuff her. Seraphina can’t wait for her hands to be free, these cuffs have irritated her the second they were on. 

She isn’t a rebel, so she shouldn’t wear handcuffs like one.

“I’m sure you won’t try to attack me? ‘Cause if you plan to do so..”

He pauses, letting the words hang in the thick, hot air of the office. His gaze lingers on her, sharp and calculating, but there’s something else there, something almost… hungry.

“I won’t, I promise.”

Seraphina quickly answers. Commander Snow smiles at her and seems to have found the key. He moves around the desk and she offers his hands to him, ready for the cuffs to be unlocked.

When he’s busy unlocking the key, his fingers touch her hand. Once. Twice. Too many times for it to be accidental.

The cuffs open, letting her wrists drop. Her hands shake slightly as she flexes her fingers. Relief is immediate, but she doesn’t dare move too fast, doesn’t dare test him.

“There, that’s better.”

Commander Snow makes his way back to his chair. Seraphina takes the glass of water and even though she’s still annoyed by the suggestion, she takes a sip.

Coriolanus rests his bare arms on his desk. He would never want to be seen as this, so unprofessional and intimate, but he doesn’t mind with her.

It feels acceptable, even necessary. His gaze lingers on her, calm, measured, but heavy, the kind of look that makes her chest tighten without a sound.

“Do you understand why you are here?”

Seraphina shakes her head, even though she knows exactly why she’s here. Her brother was caught and the people in charge like to punish the family as well.

“Your brother was caught stealing ammunition from Capitol property. That alone is enough to have him executed.”

Her fingers tighten slightly in her lap, the only sign she reacts at all. Her brother can’t be executed. She wouldn’t survive that.

“How much did you know about his rebel activity?”

“Please, he didn’t mean it.”

A tear slips her eyes and runs down her cheek. Nyx is just a boy who met the wrong kind of people who were involved in the wrong kind of business. 

“That’s not what I asked.”

Coriolanus says strictly, even though the sight of her teary eyes are killing him. This pretty girl shouldn’t be crying in front of him. He offers her a handkerchief, feeling a sense of pride when he spots his initials next to her face.

There she goes.

“How much did you know?”

He repeats carefully. Seraphina keeps her eyes glued to his desk, tracing the lines in the wood with her fingers. Oh she wished she could see her parents right now. Her mother would know what to do, or say.

“Withholding information is considered complicity.”

The Commander reminds her again.

“I didn’t know much, Sir.”

Seraphina says, remembering the times Nyx’ friends hid behind their house, talking about weak spots in the security system. There was a blind spot near the storage facility. They were going to cut a hole in the fence.

“He said it was nothing to worry about.”

“You should’ve reported it to a peacekeeper, rose.”

Seraphina ignores the nickname, even though a strange warm feeling settles in her stomach. She clears her throat.

“He’s my family, Sir. Besides, I thought it was harmless.”

Coriolanus stands up and moves towards the window again. It’s around 5 p.m. and the peacekeepers are slowly returning to the base, ready for another boring dinner. He isn’t proud of their work today, he needs to correct their behaviour immediately. 

Nobody with fear should wear the uniform.

“Rebelry is never harmless.”

Coriolanus answered.

Seraphina flinches at the word, the finality in his tone cutting sharper than any blade. Her fingers grip the edge of the chair, knuckles white.

“I…I didn’t know it would go that far.”

She whispers, voice trembling. 

“I didn’t know they’d steal bullets… or-”

“Or put lives at risk.”

Coriolanus interrupts smoothly, not turning from the window. The sun falls across his face, sharp angles softened only slightly by the late afternoon light. 

“You see, rose, ignorance doesn’t protect you. It exposes you.”

She swallows hard, cheeks burning, heat rising not from the sun but from the weight of his gaze. She wants to shrink, to disappear into the chair, to erase herself from the room entirely.

Coriolanus finally moves from the window, pacing slowly around the desk, deliberate, measured. Every step makes the room feel smaller, tighter. He stops just behind her chair.

The faint scent of him, sharp and commanding, reaches her, making her chest tighten in a way she doesn’t understand. She almost loses it when he places an arm on her shoulder.

“As I said, Sir, I really didn’t think it would go this far.”

She turns her head so she can look at him. Coriolanus’ breath catches now that they are so close together. 

That’s the moment he decides he will never let this girl go.

He decides that he won’t let her leave, not even give her a chance to do so. The memory of Lucy Gray still haunts him when he’s trying to sleep, but he’s sure this girl will be in his mind instead. 

“It would be a shame if your brother ended up on the gallows.”

He whispers in her ear. Seraphina’s eyes widen in shock. She turns her entire body around and jumps off her seat, pushing the hand of the Commander on her shoulder.

“No no no, please Sir. I will do anything. Please don’t kill him. He didn’t mean to.”

She begs. Coriolanus liked seeing her upset like this, so worried and so obedient. She would do anything for him if that meant keeping her brother safe.

How gullible.

“If you want your brother to live, you will have to do whatever I say.”

He tells her. Seraphina nods, her eyes getting teary again.

“I will.”

Seraphina whispers. Good girl, Coriolanus thinks. 

“You are not to return home. You will stay here, in this compound.”

Her stomach twists violently, heart hammering. 

“You will live there. You will eat, sleep, breathe there, and you will wait. When I need you, when I decide you are necessary, you will come. You’ll do everything I say without resistance. I don’t like backtalkers. Do you understand what that means?”

Coriolanus places a hand on her waist, ignoring the fact that her entire body tenses up. She looks at him with those pretty doe eyes and god, she’s hard to resist.

“Do you understand?”

He pinches her waist, pulling her body closer to his. He can’t wait for her to live in the apartment in the compound, where he can see her whenever he pleases and where he can give her all the gifts he can buy.

And the best part is, she can’t leave.

He got the power. He can get her brother hanged with one flick of his hands. 

“I understand, Sir.”

Coriolanus smiles down at her.

“Good, then we start right now.”

Seraphina looks at him with expectation. Is she going to have to clean the floor now? Or clean up his desk, even though everything is already neat? She’s really not in the mood for heavy lifting with this intense heat.

“Kiss my cheek.”

Well, she definitely didn’t expect that from Commander Snow.

Coriolanus enjoys watching her face while she’s trying to hide the shock. His command seems to have quite the effect on her.

Seraphina freezes. Her heart hammers in her chest, and her lips part slightly, unsure if she heard him right. Kiss his cheek? Here? Now?

Coriolanus doesn’t flinch, doesn’t soften.

Slowly, hesitantly, she leans forward, pressing her lips against the side of his jaw. The touch is brief, almost ritualistic, yet it sends a shiver up her spine. 

Coriolanus watches every movement, his sharp eyes softening only for the fraction of a second as her lips brush his skin. 

Then the control returns, absolute, unyielding.

“Good.”

He murmurs, voice low, deliberate, almost a growl. Her body still trembles, partly from fear, partly from the strange intensity of his proximity.

“Maris!”

Coriolanus yells, the harsh sound of his voice makes Seraphina jump. Kissing his cheek felt quite humiliating, but what can she do? 

One refusal and her brother will be dead. 

A woman walks into the room, definitely surprised that Commander Snow is so close to a woman. A district girl.  

Yet she tries to hide it and smiles at the two of them.

“Yes, Commander Snow?”

“Take her to her apartment. Make sure she’s comfortable.”

Maris nods, her expression professional, but her eyes flick briefly toward Seraphina with something almost like curiosity, or perhaps warning.

Seraphina swallows hard, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. Her hands are free now, but the invisible chains of obligation, fear, and something else, keep her rooted to the spot. She doesn’t dare look at Coriolanus again.

The thought of being trapped, watched, entirely at his whim, is terrifying. And yet she feels a strange pull, a curiosity she shouldn’t feel, toward the man towering over her in the heat of the office.

Maris steps forward, offering her arm. 

“This way.”

She says, guiding Seraphina out of the office. The cuffs have already been removed, but the air feels heavy, controlled, suffocating. 

Short Summary

Commander Snow wants nothing more than to leave District 2. But why leave alone when he could take someone with him?

Author's Note

I'm sooo sorry for not posting for a long time! Hope you like this part and I will try to post a few parts the upcoming weeks! Thanks for all the support and love you've given the other parts <3

The Story

Seraphina doesn’t go back to her apartment. Not after leaving his office.

Not after the way he said it like it was already done, already decided, already real.

Instead, Maris is waiting for her again.

As if she knew exactly when this would happen. Her eyes flick briefly over Seraphina before turning down the hallway. 

“Come with me.”

Seraphina follows because there is nowhere else to go.

***

The walk feels different this time. More permanent.

The compound still hums around her, still watches, still whispers, but now there’s something else beneath it.

Something settled. Something confirmed. They don’t just suspect anymore.

They know.

And Seraphina feels it in every glance that lingers just a second too long.

***

When they reach his apartment, the door is already unlocked. Maris steps inside first. Seraphina hesitates just for a moment.

Because crossing that threshold now feels different than it did before.

Before, it was temporary, an accident, just one night. Now it’s something completely different.

“Go on.”

Maris says softly.

Seraphina steps inside.

—

It’s more controlled than she remembers, everything is exactly where it should be.

Except for her things. Not many but enough.

Folded neatly. Placed carefully. Like they’ve always belonged. Like she’s always belonged.

Seraphina stops just inside the room, her breath catching slightly as her eyes move over the small details, the dress draped over a chair, her bag placed near the wardrobe, even the brush she used that morning set beside his.

Integrated. Seamlessly. Her chest tightens.

“He had me move them this afternoon.” 

Maris says from behind her, as if reading the question before it can be asked.

Seraphina doesn’t answer and just nods faintly. Because what else is there to say?

Maris moves past her, adjusting a sleeve here, smoothing fabric there, small corrections that make everything look intentional.

“Your things will remain here from now on.”

She adds, calm, matter-of-fact. As if this is not something that will change Seraphina’s life.

Seraphina’s fingers curl slightly at her sides.

“If you need anything, you ask me.”

Maris tells her quietly.

A pause.

“And you do not refuse him.”

It’s not said as a threat. It doesn’t need to be.

Seraphina swallows.

“...I understand.”

Maris nods once. Satisfied. Then she leaves.

The door closes and just like that Seraphina is alone. In his space. Their space.

She doesn’t move at first. Doesn’t touch anything. Doesn’t sit. She just stands there, in the quiet, feeling the weight of it settle fully for the first time.

This isn’t temporary. This isn’t something she can step out of tomorrow.

This is real.

The sound of the door opening behind her makes her freeze. She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s him.

She feels it in the shift in the room, in the way the air changes.

Seraphina turns slowly.

Coriolanus steps inside, already removing his gloves, his movements precise, controlled, as always.

His gaze finds her immediately and stays there. Taking her in. Her posture. Her stillness. The way she hasn’t quite settled yet.

A faint smile touches his lips.

“Well, what do you think?”

He steps closer.

Every step closing the distance until he’s standing right in front of her, close enough that she has to tilt her head slightly to meet his gaze.

His hand lifts.

Not abruptly.

Not forcefully.

Just enough to brush a stray strand of hair back from her face, his fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary.

“I don’t know.”

Seraphina whispers in honesty. 

His hand slides from her hair to her jaw, then lower, to her shoulder, guiding, never forcing, as he moves her slightly further into the room.

“Come.”

Soft. But not optional.

She moves.

Of course she does.

He leads her deeper inside, past the space that still feels too perfect, too arranged, until they reach the bedroom.

His bed.

Her breath falters slightly again. He notices.

“You’ve slept here before.”

A pause.

His hand settles lightly at her back.

“You’ll sleep here again.”

Not a question, not even a command.

Just a quiet certainty.

He turns slightly, pulling back the covers with one smooth motion, like this is routine, like this is something that was always meant to happen.

Then he looks at her again. Waiting. Seraphina hesitates. Just for a second.

Then she moves forward, slipping beneath the covers, the sheets just as soft, just as warm as she remembers.

Just as dangerous.

He doesn’t follow immediately. Instead, he watches her for a moment longer. Assessing. Satisfied.

Then he removes his jacket, setting it aside with deliberate care, before moving to the other side of the bed.

When he joins her, the mattress dips slightly, the space shifting around her as his presence settles beside her.

His arm slides around her without hesitation, drawing her in, not roughly, not urgently, just firmly enough that there’s no mistaking it.

She belongs here. She belongs with him.

Seraphina stiffens at first.

Then slowly. just slightly, relaxes. Because fighting it feels pointless. Because part of her doesn’t want to. She curls further into him, her head resting on his chest, hearing his heart beat.

He seems to reward the affection by pressing a kiss to her head, his hands patting her head.

“What am I to you?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer.

His gaze stays on her face instead, steady, unreadable in the way that has started to feel familiar. But there’s something softer underneath it now, something that doesn’t rush to control the moment.

“You’re asking that now.” 

Coriolaus says quietly. Seraphina shifts slightly against him, unsure.

“I just… I don’t understand it.”

It’s the first time she actually confessed her confusion out loud. Since the moment she arrived here, she never dared to ask him what this was, what she was.

Her brother got caught stealing from the Capitol and in exchange for his life, she would do everything Coriolanus wanted to do, she would serve him.

But it was much more than just serving him, right? 

Sitting in his lap, him kissing her cheek occasionally, moving to his apartment, sleeping in his bed. God, she’s laying on his chest right now.

Then his arm tightens around her, not pulling her closer in force, but in certainty. Like the decision has already been made and she’s simply catching up to it.

“You don’t need to understand everything to be in it.”

He tells her. Her breath catches slightly at that. His thumb traces once at her side again, slower than before. Almost absent.

“You think there’s supposed to be a word for it.” 

He adds, voice lower now.His eyes flicker over her face.

“But there isn’t.”

Seraphina swallows, her fingers curling faintly into his shirt again.

“I don’t understand.” 

She whispers.

“You don’t have to.” 

She frowns slightly, still unsure. And then he lifts a hand. Not to restrain her. Not to guide. Just to touch her face.

His fingers brush along her cheek once, slow, deliberate, like he’s deciding to allow himself something he usually wouldn’t.

“You’re here.” 

Coriolanus murmurs.

“With me.”

The words don’t land like possession this time. They land like truth. Seraphina’s breath stutters slightly.

“Coriolanus…”

It’s the first time she says his name like that. His eyes shift at that, just a fraction.

And then, before she can think too much about it, his hand moves behind her neck, drawing her in gently. There’s no force. Only inevitability.

Their foreheads meet first. A quiet pause hangs between them. Then his lips brush hers.

Soft. Brief. Careful enough that it almost feels like he’s waiting to see if she’ll pull away.

She doesn’t. Not this time.

Her fingers tighten slightly against his collar instead, and that small movement seems to decide everything for him.

The second kiss lingers longer. Still restrained. Still controlled. But it is warmer now. Less question. 

More answer.

When he finally pulls back just enough to look at her, his thumb is still resting lightly at her jaw.

And his voice, when it comes, is quieter than before.

“You don’t need a word for it. You just need to stay here.”

Seraphina doesn’t respond right away.

She just looks at him. Still close. Still held. And then, almost unconsciously, she leans back into him again.

And this time he lets her fall completely into it.

***

It happens on a day that feels normal.

Seraphina doesn’t think anything of it at first when Maris tells her to wait outside his office, her tone as composed as ever, her hands already full of files.

“He’s finishing something.” 

Maris says simply. Seraphina nods.

So she waits.

At first, she stands quietly by the wall, fingers loosely folded in front of her, her thoughts drifting in that soft, dangerous way they’ve started to lately.

Back to the way he had smiled at her last night morning, the way he held her close, the way he kissed her.

Seraphina didn’t want to admit that butterflies settled in her stomach every time she sat in his lap. Seraphina is still pretending that she’s ‘accidentally’ looking at Coriolanus getting out of the bed, muscles showing through his shirt.

Her chest tightens faintly at the memory.

And then a voice. Inside. Not his. Sharpened by fear.

“I swear, Sir, it won’t happen again-”

Seraphina stills.

The door isn’t fully closed. Just enough that sound slips through.

She doesn’t mean to listen. She really doesn’t. But she doesn’t move away either.

Coriolanus’ voice follows. Calm. Controlled.

“That’s what you said yesterday.”

“I…I understand, Sir, I just need-”

“No.”

Not raised. Not loud. Final.

Seraphina’s fingers tighten slightly. There’s something different in the air now. Something colder.

Inside, there’s the faint sound of movement. A chair scraping. A sharp intake of breath that isn’t his.

“You misunderstand your position.”

His voice again.

“You are not here to explain yourself to me. You are here to do your job correctly the first time.”

Silence. The kind that presses.

Seraphina’s heart starts to beat a little faster. This isn’t how he sounds with her. This isn’t…him.

“I gave you a simple instruction.”

A step closer, maybe. His voice shifts slightly, lower.

“And you chose to ignore it.”

“I didn’t ignore it, Sir, I-”

A sharp sound cuts through the air. Not loud. But unmistakable. Seraphina flinches. Her breath catches in her throat.

Inside, there’s a strangled noise. Pain. Shock.

Silence follows again. Thicker now. Worse.

“You don’t interrupt me.”

His voice hasn’t changed. Not really. Still calm. And somehow that makes it worse.

Seraphina’s chest feels tight. Wrong.

“I’m sorry-,”

“You will be, because now I have to correct you.”

Seraphina’s stomach twists.

Her feet feel rooted to the floor, but everything in her is screaming to leave, to not hear the rest, to not understand what’s happening on the other side of that door.

But she stays. Frozen. There’s another sound. Not as sharp this time, but enough to paint something in her mind she doesn’t want to see.

Her fingers tremble slightly at her sides.

Inside, he exhales softly. Not frustrated. Not rushed. Measured.

“Look at me.”

A beat.

“You don’t make the same mistake twice.”

The words are quiet. Absolute.

“Yes, Sir.”

The voice inside is smaller now. Shaken.

“Good.”

It’s silent for a while.

“Fix it.”

Footsteps.Closer.

Seraphina jolts slightly, stepping back just in time as the door opens.

A young officer steps out first. Head lowered. Jaw tight. There’s a faint redness along his cheek.

His eyes don’t lift. Not even for a second.

He walks past her quickly. Doesn’t look back.

Seraphina stands there, completely still. Her chest rising and falling unevenly.

“Seraphina.”

His voice. Normal again. Like nothing happened.

She looks up.

He’s standing in the doorway now, one hand resting lightly against the frame, posture composed, expression as controlled as ever.

The same as always. The same man who had been gentle with her that morning. The same man who just…

“Come in.”

A soft command. Like before.Like always.

But something in her chest shifts. Just slightly. Not breaking. Not yet. But no longer untouched.

Because now she knows.

That warmth, that care, that touch isn’t all of him.

And maybe it never was.

Seraphina doesn’t move right away. Her feet feel too heavy. Her chest too tight.

For a second, she just stands there, staring at him, trying to reconcile what she just heard with what she sees now.

Because he looks the same. Untouched. Composed. Like nothing inside that room could have possibly been wrong.

“Seraphina.”

Her name again. Softer this time. A quiet pull.

That’s what makes her move. Not her own decision. Not really.

She steps forward, slower than usual, her heartbeat still uneven, her thoughts tangled in something she can’t quite sort through.

He notices.

By the time she crosses the threshold, his hand lifts, resting lightly against the door as he closes it behind her with a soft, controlled motion.

The sound echoes louder than it should. Final. She feels it. That shift. The space closing around them.

And suddenly she’s very aware of where she is. Who she’s with.

“Something’s wrong.”

It isn’t a question.Seraphina’s gaze drops instantly, her fingers tightening slightly at her sides.

“No.”

Too quick.

He steps closer. Not fast. Not threatening. Just inevitable.

“Look at me.”

She hesitates. Just for a second but it’s enough.

His hand lifts, not rough, not forceful, but firm as it tilts her chin up just enough to meet his gaze.

Her breath catches.

Because he’s looking at her differently now. Not cold. Not like he was with the officer.

More focused.

“What did you hear?”

The question lands softly. But there’s no escaping it.

Seraphina swallows, her chest tightening again.

“I didn’t mean to-”

“I didn’t ask that.”

Her lips part, then press together again, uncertainty flickering across her face.

He watches it. Every second of it.

“You were listening.”

Not accusing. Certain.

“You stayed.”

Her breath falters because that’s true too.

“I heard enough.”

He studies her for a moment longer.

Then his hand drops from her chin, slower this time, not dismissive, just done.

“And?”

One word.

Seraphina doesn’t know how to answer it. Doesn’t know what he wants from her.

Truth? Agreement? Fear?

“It was…he sounded…”

She stops because there isn’t a word that feels safe enough.

Coriolanus tilts his head slightly, watching her struggle.

“Say it.”

Her throat tightens.

“...scared.”

There it is. The truth. It hangs in the air between them. For a moment, nothing changes.

“Yes.”

He says it simply. Like it’s obvious. Like it should be.

Seraphina blinks, caught off guard.

“That’s not…you-”

“I corrected him.”

The interruption is smooth. Effortless. His tone doesn’t shift. Not even a little.

“He made a mistake.”

A step closer.

“And mistakes have consequences.”

“But-”

“But what?” 

Coriolanus asks her, not sharply, but with quiet precision.

Her voice is softer now.

“He was afraid of you.”

“He should be.”

The answer is immediate. Unapologetic.

Seraphina stills. Because there’s no hesitation in it. No doubt. No softness.

Just truth. His truth.

He watches her carefully then, like he’s measuring something, waiting to see how she reacts, how this changes her.

“How do you think this place functions?” 

He continues, quieter now, almost conversational.

“Do you think they listen because they respect me?”

A faint tilt of his head.

“Or because they know what happens if they don’t?”

She doesn’t answer. Can’t. Because she knows. Now she knows.

His hand lifts again, slower this time, brushing lightly against her cheek, the same way he has before.

Gentle. Careful.

Like he’s two different people in the same body.

“You’re not one of them.”

The words are softer.

“They don’t get what you get.”

Her breath catches slightly, because she understands what he means.

And that might be the worst part.

His thumb brushes once along her cheek, almost absent.

“You don’t need to be afraid. Unless you give me a reason to make you.”

It isn’t said harshly. It isn’t said like a threat. But it settles like one anyway.

Seraphina’s fingers tremble slightly at her sides.

Because now she sees it clearly. The warmth. The care. The way he touches her. The way he speaks to her.

it’s real, but so is the rest.

And the two don’t cancel each other out. They exist together. At the same time.

His hand lowers again, his expression smoothing back into something softer, more familiar.

“You’re thinking too much.”

He murmurs lightly.

Like this is something simple. Like this is something she can just accept.

His hand finds her wrist, gentle again, guiding.

“Come here.”

And despite everything, despite what she just heard, what she now understands, she steps closer.

Not because she isn’t afraid. But because she is.

And somehow that pulls her toward him more than it pushes her away.

He doesn’t give her time to think her way out of it. He never does.

The moment she steps close enough, his hand shifts from her wrist to her waist, drawing her in with that same quiet certainty, that same controlled ease that makes it feel less like a decision and more like gravity.

Her breath falters as the space between them disappears.

“Still with me?” 

Coriolanus murmurs, voice lower now, closer, as if nothing has changed, as if the tension in her chest isn’t still tight from what she heard.

Seraphina nods. Too quickly. But she doesn’t pull away. That’s what he notices.

Not the fear. Not the hesitation.The fact that she stays.

His hand settles more firmly at her waist, not harsh, not restraining, just present, grounding, like he’s reminding her exactly where she is.

“With me.”

The words are quiet. Possessive without needing to be said outright.

Her fingers hover for a second, unsure, caught between instinct and memory, between the version of him that held her gently and the one she just heard through the door.

Then slowly they lift.

Resting lightly against his chest. Testing.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t rush her. Just watches.

Waiting to see which way she’ll go.

Her palm presses just slightly against him. Enough to feel something real. And something in her settles.

His gaze softens, just a fraction.

“That’s it.”

Barely more than a whisper.

Approval.

Her breath slips out unevenly, her shoulders lowering just a little, even as her mind is still catching up, still trying to understand how both versions of him can exist at once.

His hand shifts, slower now, sliding along her side in a way that’s less about guiding and more about familiarity.

“You’re quiet again.”

Not a reprimand.

An observation.

“I’m thinking,” she admits softly.

A faint curve touches his mouth.

“Dangerous habit.”

There’s a hint of teasing in it.

Light.

But it doesn’t quite erase what she knows now.

Her fingers tighten slightly against his shirt.

“You don’t seem to mind it.”

“I mind when it takes you away from me.”

That lands differently.

Her breath catches again.

Because there’s no joke in that.

No softness to soften it.

Just truth.

His truth.

His hand lifts again, brushing lightly along her jaw, tilting her face just enough that she can’t hide in the space between them this time.

“You’re still here.”

A pause.

“After seeing that.”

He watches her carefully.

Measuring.

“And that tells me everything I need to know.”

Seraphina’s heart stutters.

“I didn’t-”

“Run?” he finishes quietly.

She swallows.

“No…”

“Exactly.”

His thumb brushes once along her cheek, slower this time.

Deliberate.

“You understand more than you think you do.”

Another step closer.

If that’s even possible.

“You understand that this..” 

His hand presses lightly at her waist again, grounding.

“And that.. are not separate things.”

Her chest tightens.

Because she does understand. That’s what scares her.

His expression softens again, just enough to pull her back from the edge of that realization.

“For you,”

 He murmurs, quieter now.

“It will always be this.”

His hand at her waist. His voice low. Controlled. Close.

Her fingers curl slightly into his shirt again, her body betraying her before her thoughts can catch up.

Leaning in. Not away.

A faint exhale leaves him, something almost like satisfaction settling beneath it. His hand slides from her waist to her back, drawing her just a fraction closer, enough that there’s no space left between them now.

Short Summary

Commander Snow wants nothing more than to leave District 2. But why leave alone when he could take someone with him?

The Story

When Maris shuts the front door behind her, Seraphina exhales, without realizing she had been holding her breath. Everything happened so fast.

And now she’s stuck here.

The air in the apartment is cold against her skin, apparently she’s staying in one of the few apartments with air conditioning in the entire district. 

She stands there for a moment, not moving, not breathing properly, her hand still hovering near the door as if she might open it again. As if she might walk out.

But she doesn’t.

She can’t.

Seraphina takes a deep breath before she moves around the apartment. It consists of three rooms. There’s a small bathroom with nothing more than a shower, a sink and a toilet. In the bedroom, there’s only a bed and a small desk, a vase of roses placed on top.

The living room is much bigger than she expected. The couch in the living room is comfortable, more comfortable than the couch in her house.

The house she isn't sure when she'll return to.

Who knows how long Commander Snow will keep her here, keeping her busy with tasks around the Compound. This apartment is just the perfect little cage for her.

She moves slowly toward the window, peering out at the compound below. Soldiers train, walk in precise lines, and yet none of them notice her. None of them see that she’s here, trapped, watching, waiting. 

The thought should comfort her, her invisibility, but it doesn’t. It only reminds her how small she is in this place, how much power he has over her, over her family, over everything.

The air conditioning hums softly, a constant reminder that she’s safe from the heat outside but not from him. Not from Commander Snow. Not from the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his commands, the way he made her kiss his cheek.

Seraphina sinks onto the couch, letting the cool cushions press against her back. Her fingers trace the seam of the leather almost absentmindedly, but her mind races. 

She shouldn’t be here. 

She shouldn’t even like how comfortable this place is. She shouldn’t feel a flicker of curiosity at the quiet efficiency of it all, the way the air smells faintly of cleaning products and roses.

Time moves slowly. It feels like hours have passed when Seraphina hears a knock on the front door. She makes her way through the hallway, feeling her heartbeat speed up. Seraphina ignores her hands shaking when she grabs the doorknob and opens the door.

It’s Maris again.

“Maris.”

Seraphina breaths, relieved that it isn’t Commander Snow.

His secretary smiles at her, as if this were a perfectly normal situation. Maybe Commander Snow locked up more girls in the past, using the promise of keeping their families safe.

Maris is carrying a plate of food and at the sight of food, Seraphina’s stomach rumbles. She hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast.

“Commander Snow insisted on someone bringing you dinner. You must be hungry.”

How thoughtful.

Seraphina steps aside to let Maris in, feeling the weight of the apartment walls pressing down on her. Every movement feels loud, too loud. Her hands fidget at her sides as Maris sets the plate on the desk and arranges a glass of water next to it.

“Thank you." 

Seraphina whispers, almost automatically. She can’t stop her eyes from flicking toward the door, half-expecting Commander Snow to appear at any moment, sharp, commanding, and entirely in control.

Maris gestures for her to sit down, and Seraphina complies. She doesn’t touch the cutlery yet, unsure what to do.

The smell makes her stomach clench and her throat dry at the same time. She's starving, but there’s a weight in her chest that makes it hard to touch the food.

“You have to eat. That’s an order from him.”

His secretary tells her. Seraphina hesitates, then sits at the desk. She picks up the fork, but the food barely registers. 

Maris leans against the doorway, looking at the Commander’s prisoner. He has never done something like this before, keeping the family of a rebel here in this compound. This apartment is normally used for more important people, such as officers.

She must be special, Maris thinks. Commander Snow doesn’t do these things.

“Seraphina?”

Seraphina looks up to Maris, awkwardly chewing a potato. She hates to admit it, but this is the best food she’s ever eaten.

“If you need anything, let me know. I’m here to help.”

Maris knows she can’t promise Seraphina anything, she works under Commander Snow, but she does feel bad for the girl sitting in front of her. She’s all alone, her brother is behind bars and her actions determine his fate.

Before Seraphina can express her gratitude, Maris continues:

“I’ll leave you to eat. I suspect Commander Snow will demand your presence tomorrow.”

*

Just as expected, Seraphina couldn’t sleep. 

The sheets are soft, far too soft, and the cool air from the vent brushes against her skin in a way that should be comforting.

It isn’t.

She turns onto her side. Then onto her back again. Pulls the blanket up. Pushes it down. Closes her eyes.

Opens them again.

Her mind spins endlessly: Nyx, the compound, the strange, suffocating control Commander Snow has over her. She tosses and turns on the bed, the sheets twisted around her legs.

Every time she lets her mind drift, it circles back to him. His voice. His eyes. The way he 

She closes her eyes for a moment and imagines walking freely through the streets of District 2, but even that feels like a memory of someone else’s life.

Seraphina tries to tell herself to stay in bed, to obey, to do as he ordered, but the thought of waiting passively, doing nothing while the world outside continues, gnaws at her.

Every time she lets her mind drift, it circles back to him. His voice. His eyes. The way he looked at her like she already belonged to him.

She rises quietly and moves to the window, peering out at the compound. Soldiers walk the grounds, lights reflecting off the wet surfaces from the rain.

A dark rain cloud has spread across the entire district 2 late this evening.

She steps back, glances at the door to the hallway. No one is there. Maris won’t come until morning. Commander Snow … she doesn’t dare think of him yet, only the idea of leaving this apartment, even briefly, pushing against her chest like a live thing.

Seraphina knows it’s wrong. She shouldn’t leave. She does it anyway.

*

The first drop hits her skin, then another, and another, until her hair begins to cling to her face and neck. But she doesn’t stop. The rain feels real in a way nothing inside that apartment did.

Grounding.

She walks slowly at first, then further, deeper into the compound. Most of the windows are dark now, the usual rigid order softened by night. A few distant voices echo, boots against pavement, the occasional shout.

But no one stops her.

No one questions her.

It’s almost worse that way.

Like it’s been decided she belongs there.

The rain picks up, heavier now, soaking through her clothes completely. Her shoes slip slightly with each step as the ground grows softer beneath her.

Still, she keeps walking.

Because anything is better than lying in that bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for him to decide when she matters again.

Seraphina wonders where her brother might be. Is he already locked up in a cell? Does he know Commander Snow is keeping her in this compound? How much distance is between them right now? 

Maybe if she searches through the compound she might find him.

The main paths of the compound fade behind her, replaced by narrower routes between buildings, dimly lit by flickering lamps that barely cut through the rain. Water drips from rooftops in steady streams, pooling on the ground, turning everything slick and uncertain beneath her feet.

She should turn back.

She knows she should.

But something keeps pulling her forward. 

The rain grows heavier the further she walks.It soaks through everything, her hair, her clothes, her skin—until she’s shivering, though she barely notices. The compound feels different at night. 

But there’s something off.

A noise, faint at first. Not shouting. Not commands.

Something else.

Seraphina slows, her steps faltering as she tilts her head slightly, trying to listen over the rain. It comes again. A muffled sound, uneven, strained.Her chest tightens.

She shouldn’t go toward it. She knows she shouldn’t.

But her feet move anyway.

Careful now, slower, quieter. She rounds the corner of one of the darker buildings, where the dim light barely reaches, where shadows stretch too long and too deep.

And then Seraphina sees it.

A girl, even younger than her. Pushed to the wall, her dress pulled over her ass, her panties are hanging around her ankles.

Four peacekeepers surrounded her, their trousers undone. 

One of the peacekeepers is holding a whip, which is normally used for public punishment on the town square. 

He strikes her again; the girl screams in pain. The red bruises on her back show that this isn't the first time she's been hit. 

“Shut up, slut. I know you like it.”

After his hand brushes through her folds, the peacekeeper holds it up to her face.

“See? You’re fucking wet at the thought of four peacekeepers fucking you.”

The peacekeeper rubs her own wetness on her face with force while the girl whines. The four peacekeepers laugh at her and start to jerk off.

They act like this is normal, like this isn’t one of the most humiliating things someone can go through. 

Seraphina feels sick to her stomach watching the scene. She has heard some stories about this happening, girls being used by peacekeepers. That’s one of the reasons her mother never let her leave the house late at night.

She knew it was horrible, but seeing it happening in front of her is so much worse.

The peacekeepers start to use her, forcefully thrusting into the poor girl who keeps begging for them to let her go.

“Please, I won’t say anything.”

Seraphina hears the girl beg. Tears are rolling down her face.

“Nobody would care if you did, whore. So you’re going to keep quiet while we use you, okay?”

Says the other peacekeeper with a vicious tone. The girl can only whine, but it’s quickly muffled when a peacekeeper starts to fuck her throat.

Seraphina nearly throws up, her hands gripping the wall for stability. She needs to get away from here, she can’t watch this any longer.

She takes a small step back, but her shoe slips in the mud. Seraphina nearly falls on the ground, but manages to keep standing. 

The peacekeepers notice. They laugh at her frightened look.

“Looks like we have company.”

One of them says. The abused girl spots Seraphina as well, a pleading look in her eyes. As much as Seraphina wants to help her, she knows she can’t. They are outnumbered.

“You want to join, pretty girl? We can make room for one more.”

A peacekeeper takes a step towards her, it’s the one who just whipped the girl. No words come out of Seraphina’s mouth, she can only shake her head

“Come on then, don’t be shy. Step closer.”

When he takes another step towards her, she finally unfreezes. Seraphina starts to run as fast as she can. 

Her breath comes out sharp, uneven, her heart slamming violently against her ribs as if it’s trying to break free. She doesn’t dare look back, doesn’t want to see if they’re following, if they’re laughing, if they’ve already lost interest.

The rain hits harder now, soaking through her clothes, blurring her vision. The ground beneath her feet is slick, unstable, every step uncertain.

Her shoes slide against the mud, nearly losing grip with every step, but she pushes forward anyway, arms pumping, lungs burning. The image of the girl’s face, those pleading eyes, won’t leave her.

It’s burned into her.

She turns a corner too quickly. Her foot hits a patch of thick mud. And then-

It slips. Completely.

A sharp gasp tears from her throat as her balance gives out. Her body lurches forward, hands shooting out too late to catch herself.

She hits the ground hard.

Cold mud splashes up her arms, her legs, her face. The impact knocks the air from her lungs, leaving her stunned, breathless, a broken sound escaping her as she tries to inhale.

For a second, she can’t move. Her palms press into the wet ground, slipping again as panic surges back full force.

Her chest heaves, cold mud seeping through her soaked clothes, sticking to her skin. She scrambles to push herself up, fingers sinking into the slick ground, but her footing refuses to hold. Rain pelts her face, mixing with tears she hadn’t realized she was shedding.

She hears footsteps. Loud. Purposeful. Footsteps of someone who knows he belongs here. Who’s not afraid of the things that happen in the darkest corners of the Compound.

“Get up.”

More tears slip from her eyes when she hears the voice of Commander Snow. All the strength in her body seems to disappear by the sound of his voice, she feels weaker than ever.

Her body shudders under the cold rain, mud clinging to her skin, and her arms tremble as she tries to push herself to her knees.

It doesn’t work. She falls right back in the mud.

“Don’t make me say it twice.”

Commander Snow kneels beside her. He rests a hand lightly on her shoulder, not forcing her, but grounding her.

“I… I can’t.”

She whispers, voice cracking, shivering. The mud and rain cling to her, soaking through every layer, chilling her to the bone. 

“I… I can’t get up.”

Seraphina can’t stop crying. Everything is too much. She feels so helpless here, laying in the mud, unable to get up. She saw peacekeepers rape a poor girl and she couldn’t do anything about it.

“Look at me.”

Commander Snow orders. She doesn’t even hear his order.

“Look at me, darling.”

Her eyes finally meet his. He rests a firm hand on her back, another under her arm, lifting gently but without hesitation. 

“I’ve got you. Trust me.”

Her legs tremble, giving out as she tries to rise. She collapses against him, sobbing, helpless. Snow doesn’t pull away. He holds her upright, adjusting his grip, careful yet unyielding.

His hands are steady, strong, lifting and supporting her as if she were fragile porcelain.

Slowly, painfully, she finds her footing, every small movement guided by his touch. The rain slicks her shoes and mud clings to her, but he keeps her balanced, adjusting her stance without a word, watching her carefully.

When she finally stands on her own, barely, Commander Snow doesn’t release her. One hand still rests lightly at her back, the other on her forearm, holding her upright against the storm.

The rain is still pouring down on them, but he doesn’t seem to care. Her muddy dress is ruining his neat (yet soaked) Commander attire, he doesn’t seem to care. All he seems to care about is her.

“You’re shivering.” 

He murmurs, voice low, rough.

“You’re soaked. We need to get you out of this rain before you catch something.”

Seraphina swallows, trembling, unable to speak. The images of what she just saw are clawing at her mind. She wants to scream, to run, but her body refuses to obey.

Snow doesn’t let her linger. He slides an arm firmly around her waist, pulling her slightly against him so she doesn’t falter. His other hand holds her arm steady. 

“I’m taking you back to my apartment. You’ll be safe there. You’ll be dry. You’ll tell me everything that happened. Right now, you need to trust me.”

She hesitates, panic and fear warring with the strange, undeniable pull she feels toward him. His eyes are sharp, unwavering, yet there’s something almost… tender beneath the steel.

“Sir…I” 

Her voice cracks, but he cuts her off gently, almost possessively.

“No ‘I.’ You’re not walking back alone, darling. I’m not letting you go back to your apartment alone. Not like this. Not after what you’ve seen.”

He steps closer, trying to brush mud from her dress with a quick, deliberate gesture, ignoring the rain soaking both of them. Then, carefully, he guides her toward the path back to the compound, his arm securely around her, his presence both commanding and strangely comforting.

“Talk to me when we’re inside.”

He says, his voice low, almost a growl.

Her chest rises and falls, trying to catch a normal breath, her body still trembling. She allows herself to be led, leaning lightly against him for support, feeling the impossible weight of his attention. It’s overwhelming, frightening and yet, for the first time since witnessing that scene, she feels the faintest flicker of safety.

The compound gates loom ahead, blurred by rain, but Coriolanus doesn’t falter. His grip is firm, his steps deliberate, making sure she doesn’t stumble. 

“Almost there.”

He murmurs.

No one moves to stop them. Soldiers glance, some curious, some indifferent, but Snow’s presence alone is enough to clear a path. He doesn’t hurry; every step is deliberate, controlling, ensuring she doesn’t fall again.

She’ll be the talk of the Compound tomorrow

“Let’s get you inside.”

She swallows again, heart hammering, unsure if it’s fear or something more, but she doesn’t pull away. She can’t. Not when he’s the only thing steady in the chaos around her.

He fumbles with his keys but the door to his apartment unlocks not much later.