SIX
peeta mellark
❆
"OH, I'M SO sorry," apologises Peeta, appearing alarmed as his eyes flit to asses the damage on Cora. "I didn't see you there. Are you okay?"
Truthfully, Cora's nose feels like it has been crushed, her nerves tingling from the force of the impact. But she forces on a smile, figuring she should at least try and make a good impression. It isn't exactly a good look to come across as weak during the Hunger Games. "Fine except for a bit of a sore nose. And you've got a little–" she grimaces as she gestures aimlessly at a make up stain that has formed on his chest. He's wearing a similar outfit to Katniss, a black unitard clinging to his body with his blonde hair slicked back. He doesn't look too bad, Cora has to admit.
Peeta glances down, using his thumb to try and rub the mark away. "Ah. Right. Well, it's already done. I doubt anyone's going to notice anyways," he dismisses. He then looks curiously at her again, soaking her in as if he's only just realising who she is. "You're - uh - Cora, right? Cora Snow?"
She's prepared to flinch when he pronounces her last name, in the way she always does hearing the reproachful tone, the faint disgust, the disapproval of people's voices when they realise her identity. But to Cora's surprise, Peeta sounds normal. Sweet, even. As if the name Snow is just every other common name and it didn't bother him in the slightest. She feels almost touched by the gesture, then tries to swiftly remind herself that Peeta is competition, not a friend.
Still, Cora nods her head in acknowledgement. It couldn't hurt to make an ally like Finnick said. "Yeah, I am." She doesn't bother trying to clarify who he is when pretty much everybody in Panem knew the diplomatic and sweet as sugar fiancée of the Mockingjay. Peeta's face has been plastered all over the tabloids, him and Katniss' upcoming wedding being the talk of the town. Cora couldn't even turn on the TV without seeing some kind of speculation on the two, whether it be their flourishing relationship documented by Ceaser Flickerman or Katniss' choice in wedding gowns. "I'd ask how Victor life is holding up but I suppose that's a pretty obvious answer."
Peeta lets out a humourless laugh. "Yeah, its a shame I didn't really get to experience being one for long. I think I would've made a pretty good face of District 12, don't you think? After Katniss, of course."
You already are, she wants to say, but Cora swallows her words down.
"I'm sure you'd be an improvement from Haymitch," she jokes instead.
"True," he snickers. He then pauses to regard her, as if debating on whether to continue or not. "I watched the District 7 Reaping last night. It was painfully clear how close you and the other 7 Victors are. I just want to say that I - well, I understand. It's not easy going back, especially with someone you care about."
Wow.
For a second, Cora wonders if he's mocking her, or even cruelly teasing her. But his tone is so genuine and full of sincerity that she can't help but stare at him, aghast. How did someone so kind, so considerate, so pure manage to survive the brutality of the Hunger Games? A part of Cora thinks it's an act and that the District 12 couple have agreed to maintain their TV personalities to earn them sponsors.
Either way, Cora finds his kindness rather suspicious and she narrows her eyes at him.
"No it isn't," she replies, evenly. Cora doesn't want to offend him, but she also doesn't want to give off the impression that she's an easily-trusting fool. The Hunger Games didn't just include ruthlessly slaughtering each other, but also the more subtle art of trickery, of luring your prey in before you stabbed them in the back, digging the knife into someone you called a friend. Cora has seen it all too clearly in the Careers and she doesn't fancy suffering a similar fate.
The fanfare blows, signalling for the Victors to head into their chariots.
Cora decides to extend her hand before she leaves. "Well, it was nice meeting you," she says. His hand is cold and clammy, sweating from nerves despite his charming and collected manner. Underneath the cool-toned voice and brave face, Peeta is just as anxious as she is. "I hope to see you again sometime," she adds.
"Sure," he replies. "Maybe at Training or something."
As Cora turns back around to return to Blight, she can hear him telling Katniss, "Hey, I think I've found us our first ally for the Games."
Cora smiles at his words, but her distrust surrounding Peeta still remain. Was his sweet guy act a ploy to gain her trust or was he really just being genuine? Is he the one that Cora should be worried about in the Arena rather than Katniss? Peeta does seem like he'd be the brains of the mission, concealing his fox-like cunning with kind words and caramel-brown eyes.
Cora decides to brush off her feelings and thoughts surrounding the District 12 pair for now. She'd worry about allies later. What she needed to do was focus on the matter at hand, and that was getting through the rest of the day.
Should be a piece of cake, she thinks, grimacing as she greets Blight wearily. He sends her a weak smile, taking her hand as they both clamber into their chariot.
The horses begin to kick their hooves, forming a line in District order as the wide doors separating them and the rest of the Capitol are flung open.
It's showtime, Cora thinks, plastering on the most dazzling smile she can muster.
❆
After the Parade had finished, Cora had been desperate to return to her assigned quarters back at the Training Centre. She longed for nothing more than to scrub her face clean and get out of her dress, as pretty as it was. She had spent majority of the Ceremony fidgeting like a child in her chariot, the coarse material of her dress eventually itching her and becoming more and more unbearable to tolerate. Even the flower crown on her head started to bug her, and the first chance Cora got she had whipped it off and given it to Amethyst so that it could be returned back to Jax.
All in all, it's been a long day and Cora had been hoping that she'd get to spend the remainder of her evening in bed before the gruelling training sessions began tomorrow. But just as Cora is trying to wipe off the last remnants of glitter on her eyelids, Amethyst pops her lilac-haired head into her bedroom.
"Are you busy, darling?" she inquires at her.
"Uh, I was just about to go to bed. Why?"
Amethyst then appears fully in her room, vibrant as ever in all her purple attire. Her lilac curls rest on her shoulders, bouncing as she shakes her head apologetically at Cora. "Ah, well, I'd hold off on that for now."
Cora frowns. "Huh? If this is about making allies, I told Johanna we'd discuss it tomorrow after training. And I don't fancy watching this years Reaping either if you're going to ask."
"It's nothing to do with any of that," explains Amethyst, nervously fiddling with her hands. "It's just that — well, we may have just received a message from your grandfather saying he's going to be coming over in ten minutes." Amethyst garbles the last words so fast Cora has to strain her ears to hear, but she understands it well enough that she practically jumps upwards in shock.
"Here?!" yells Cora, staring at her escort in undisguised horror. Her mouth has gone dry, fear and confusion flooding through her. What reason could he possibly have to come see her?!
"And that was ten minutes ago," adds Amethyst with a squeak.
"What?" exclaims Cora, panic starting to rise in her chest. "That means he's supposed to—"
A firm rap on the door cuts her off, the sound echoing throughout the District 7 quarters like a gong. Cora feels her blood run cold, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Shit shit shit.
Cora frantically runs her fingers through her hair. Why would the President seriously be wanting to visit her? Sure, it could just be well wishing for her Games but he isn't exactly a paternal sort of figure. He made it clear in her first Hunger Games not to expect any special favours just because she was a Snow and that she'd be treated just like any other Tribute. He barely paid even a slither of attention to her back then, so Cora can't even imagine why it would change now.
Or maybe she's just being paranoid. He could be making visits to all the floors to see the Victors, maybe as a final goodbye to express his gratitude for their service to the Capitol. It's unlikely though. Extremely unlikely.
No, knowing President Snow, he has a completely different reason. The man always has an agenda, constantly living with a plan up his sleeve. His time is sacred, as precious as the jewels encrusted on his neck, and he didn't waste it pointlessly.
Amethyst hurries off to answer the door, squawking as she adjusts her wig and straightens her jacket. Cora can hear her telling Johanna, Blight, and Torres to stay in their rooms upstairs until he leaves. Which also means that he's only here to see Cora...Yikes.
She lets out a long exhale, allowing her eyes to flutter half shut. She hastily tries to remind herself to keep her composure, repeating the chant that her mother had drilled into her head whenever she went to see her Snow side of the family. Just smile and nod, Kaina would tell her. Be docile, obedient, and agreeable.
Docile, obedient, and agreeable. Docile, obedient, and agreeable. Docile, obedient, and agreeable, she repeats inside her head.
Cora purses her lips, feeling anything but any of the feelings listed above. If anything, she feels the opposite, her emotions screaming to be let out towards the Capitol like a pack of rabid dogs, tearing through the streets and leaving nothing but bones in their wake.
Still, Cora also knows her life could be on the line here. Even if it's likely she could be dead by next week, she isn't exactly eager to speed up the process. If there is one thing being a Victor taught her, it's how to 'fake it 'till you make it, baby'. It's the motto Cora sticks by (also one taught to her by Johanna), and it's helped her survive this far and she's betting on it again.
Squaring her shoulders, Cora slips out her room and heads downstairs. Amethyst is helping President Snow take off his coat, moving to hang it on one of the racks. He's still in the same outfit he wore earlier at the parade, his tailored suit pristine and coloured almost as white as his hair.
Cora flashes on the warmest smile she can muster. "Grandfather," she beams through gritted teeth. The lack of enthusiasm in her tone is muffled as he reaches over to hug her. It's only a brief hug, no longer than two seconds, but the lingering stench of roses mixed with another metallic smell, blood, she realises, wafts into her nose. Ew.
"It's so nice to see you, darling," he drawls, instructing her to take a seat on the couch. Cora nervously perches on the edge of the turquoise sofa, watching anxiously as the President dismisses Amethyst, leaving just the two of them in the room alone. "You looked lovely today - just like a Snow."
Because I am one? she thinks, baffled.
Instead, Cora expresses her thanks before saying, "Let's just cut to the chase, grandfather. Something tells me you're not just here to shower compliments."
President Snow tilts his head to the side, a wry smile forming on his chapped lips. "You're right. Ah, Cora, look how alike we are - just like me, you aren't a time waster. Brisk and to the point- I like that. And I hope we can continue seeing eye to eye on all other matters."
Cora nervously licks her lips, trying her best to meet his steady gaze without cowering in fear. Something about his demeanour is sending alarm bells ringing in her head, her instincts telling her to run and hide as quickly as possible.
"I'm sure you remember our conversation last time we met," he continues. "At Phyllis' wedding. When I spoke to you about your duty to our family in aiding in upholding our power and control over the Districts."
Cora squints her eyes at him. The conversation, to her recollection, was a lot less direct than his words are now. But she supposes her grandfather has no need to tread on eggshells anymore, not when Peeta and Katniss are about to be shipped off to the Arena to compete in the Games.
"I remember," she says, lightly. Cora doesn't want to say too much, knowing that whatever words she says could be used against her.
"Good," he says. "Now you've been part of our family for a long time Cora. Maybe not as involved as your cousins, naturally, but I've always tried my best to make you feel welcome and included, have I not? You are our symbol of Capitol and District unity, living proof of coexistence between the two. And I'm sure you can understand why a symbol such as yourself weighs with such more meaning in turbulent times such as these. And I hope you will start to recognise the value of this symbolism, and how perhaps it can be used to strengthen the Capitol's position - and to keep our family safe. Especially when you are now being broadcasted all across Panem, you have a rare chance to exert this influence and possibly even change tides."
Cora stares at him, the pieces slowly falling into place as understanding suddenly clicks in her head. "You want me to stop the ripples. Again. This time, in the Arena."
President Snow raises an eyebrow, looking vaguely surprised. "My, you've caught on quickly. I wasn't even granted the chance of proposing it. But, I suppose, the answer is yes. That is what I expect of you. Can I count on you to do so or do you align yourself with these rebels?" His last words are sharp, his tone bitter.
Cora doesn't even hesitate, never missing a beat. "You can trust me." The lie slips so easily out her mouth that Cora would've believed it herself if it isn't for the bitter taste that's now left on her tongue.
"The thing is, Cora, a part of me doesn't. A very big part of me, " replies President Snow. "I've seen you with your Victors, with that girl, Johanna Mason. And you are your mothers daughter after all, so you have a lot to prove to me. But maybe if I see you earning my trust, we can begin to establish a friendship beyond grandfather and granddaughter. And, let me tell you Cora, I always help my friends out. And I'm sure I'll be able to grant you favours you might find quite useful in the coming week..."
"Oh," says Cora, practically dumbstruck at the sheer honesty of his words. "I see."
Her head is spinning, struggling to formulate sentences as the weight of her grandfathers words sink in. She's not shocked - how could she be? Her grandfather is cunning and ruthless, prepared to do anything to maintain his authority. He isn't above tampering with the Games, making the odds tip in the favour of someone else as long as it benefited him.
Still, Cora didn't expect for him to be quite so upfront about it. But she also guesses he doesn't expect her to live long enough for her to do anything about it.
In the little remaining time Cora has left, it's to no one's shock that he's trying to squeeze the last bit of usefulness he can find in her, utilising her as an instrument to control the Districts. After all, people to him were like cows - he milked them dry before consuming them whole.
"Consider my first favour to you being an alliance with you and the Careers," he finally states, ending the long silence that had formed between them . "I'm sure survival is of great necessity to you."
Cora slowly nods her head at him. Survival. What a funny term. As he gets up to leave, Cora starts to wonder how much she's willing to sacrifice for it.
authors note
yayayay we finally had our first Cora x Peeta interaction!!!!! 🥳🥳 damn this chapter has quite a lot going on so sorry if it seems kinda rushed 😰😰😰 this took an annoyingly long time to write probably because of the fact so much was happening but I got it done eventually so yay 😩😩😩
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