𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀𝘽𝙊𝘿𝙔 𝙀𝙇𝙎𝙀 - coriolanus snow

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙏𝙍𝘼𝙄𝙉𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂

"No problem." I responded, anticipating the Peacekeeper's departure. As he lingered, I couldn't help but feel a heightened sense of discomfort, aware that my indulgence in proper food was being observed by both him and the tributes, who likely hadn't experienced such meals for days. Breaking the silence, the Peacekeeper reiterated, "Mr. Snow said, no sharing." Placing added emphasis on the directive. Seeking clarification, I asked, "Meaning?" Attempting to downplay the situation, although the Peacekeeper's presence intensified my unease. The realization that my initial plan to share the food with Jacob had slipped my mind only added to the discomfort. The Peacekeeper clarified, "Meaning, I'll be overseeing once you finish eating."

Fuck. I could feel Jacob's muscles tensing beside me in a matter of seconds. "Are you kidding me?" His frustration not only became more apparent but, with an empty stomach and who knows how little sleep, it seemed like he might snap if it weren't for the presence of the Peacekeepers. "What about us, then?" He voiced what the other tributes were likely thinking, and, reluctantly, I had to agree. In the grand scheme of things, it was wise not to rock the boat and be the first to face consequences. All for the well-being of my mentor.

"As I mentioned, your meal will be here shortly." The Peacekeeper maintained the same unwavering tone. Surprisingly, his authoritative voice held even more weight considering the power dynamics at play, with him alone standing between us and any form of defiance. It was evident that he wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger if challenged, to the detriment of both the tributes from our district and the mentor in charge. Before any rebellious thoughts could form, the Peacekeeper's attention shifted to me, a silent directive to start eating before the food cooled. I complied, spurred on by Jacob's second complaint. "Yes, Y/N. Eat it before it gets cold." Came a motherly admonition, accompanied by the subtle laughter of the tributes, reflecting their shared sentiments about the situation.

Savoring each bite of the delectable Capitol cuisine, I couldn't help but emit a small, involuntary moan of pleasure. Excusing myself from the sumptuous plate provided directly from the Capitol, the Peacekeeper felt compelled to enlighten me. "From the Capitol's chef." He stated matter-of-factly. My eyes widened in astonishment, the prestigious forks and the marbled plate bearing the unmistakable Capitol symbol in a beautiful blend of pink and gold confirming my suspicions. It didn't take long to finish the plate, and I had to gently cradle my stomach, realizing I had indulged more than intended.

Observing the other Peacekeepers distributing plain bread and butter to the fellow tributes, the discrepancy between their meals and mine became apparent. No trays, no elaborate plates – just a daily variation of the basics as a gesture of favor from their mentors. "Thank you." I expressed, shifting my gaze back to the Peacekeeper, wiping the corner of my lip as he nodded and took away my tray. "Snow will be meeting you back at the area for your training session. Another Peacekeeper will escort you this time."

"And when will that be?" I inquired, eager for his response and feeling a renewed energy thanks to the promised proteins and food. However, he offered no reply, merely shrugged, and returned to his duties. "I suppose it will be a surprise." Jacob nudged my arm, a welcome change from his usual grumpy demeanor. He seemed more like the guy I had met the previous day. "I hope it won't be too long." I expressed the shared sentiment, a sense of unease settling in as I contemplated not just the meal I had just enjoyed but also the impending challenge of facing Coriolanus, this time armed with an ax.

x

Coriolanus Snow made it explicit that Y/N Swan would enjoy a breakfast unlike the other tributes. This required him to rise a few hours earlier, sneaking into the Academy's kitchen to request the chef's specialty. The price for this special treatment? A victory for his own tribute, translating into a reward for chef himself – a win at the Capitol's most opulent restaurants once the 11th Hunger Games concluded. Despite securing this arrangement, Coriolanus couldn't shake a twisted and queasy feeling in his stomach. He found himself pondering how well his tribute fared the previous day, whether she had managed to get sufficient rest. Rumors has it that many tributes were struggling when away from their homes. Potentially depriving themselves of nourishment and falling prey to ailments even before the Games commenced.