She was a princess. Snow stared at her picture for a while; that would do, she was a good candidate. A princess from the South; he wondered what kind of beastly people would still have a princess, and kings and queens—it was pathetic. However, at the same time, having a foreign woman was really something. She could be beastly, but he stills the only man in the country powerful enough to lay down with a woman who was not born in Panem. That was the best part—no family, no friends, nobody that could tell her how to feel, nobody she could trust besides himself.
Crassus was crying somewhere distant, but he could still hear him. Livia was not exactly what you could call a good mother; she was actually dumb, disgusting, almost a rebel. She got used to treating Snow with despair, not the devotion that a woman must have for her husband. This other girl was younger, 10 years younger than Livia and himself. He was 18 once, so Snow knew that is a proper age to love. She would love him, she would be devoted, she would be the perfect mother to Crassus, and a beautiful first lady to Panem. That's exactly what he needed, what Panem needed—a beautiful, young, devoted woman who was ready to die for him.
"Send a message to the international press, tell them I'm now a widower."
"What do you mean, sir? Mrs. Snow is healthier than ever; she is recovering very well..."
"I know," Snow said. "Do what I said, and we are taking care of this later. And tell the citizens of Panem that their first lady has passed away while giving birth."