On the fateful night when Aurora's radiance faded, Coriolanus crossed paths with Lucy Gray.
As he gazed upon his altered reflection—a silhouette with a buzz-cut, adorned with a cold dog tag he felt lying on his chest—Lucy Gray stood amidst the meadow's whispering grasses, lost in her own reverie. Her silhouette, framed by the ethereal glow, was a portrait of melancholy grace. A black ribbon, delicately tied around her hair, fluttered in the night breeze, stirring a haunting sense of déjà vu within Coriolanus's soul. Though the ribbon stirred memories, its origin remained elusive, slipping through the crevices of his recollection like grains of sand through fingers.
She sensed his presence with an uncanny intuition. "Hey, sweetheart, back for another visit?" she remarked, her voice a gentle melody in the stillness of the night. Coriolanus recoiled at her words, a surge of resentment bubbling within him. He spat on the ground in defiance before turning away, his heart heavy with bitterness. "You don't have to pretend you hate me here," Lucy Gray continued, her voice carrying a strange mix of warmth and reproach. "I see through the facade, Coriolanus. The truths you deny yourself find no sanctuary in our meadow."
Confusion knotted Coriolanus's brow as he struggled to make sense of her cryptic words. "What do you mean? I truly despise you," he retorted, his words laced with venom. "You used me, manipulated me... I shot you. How could I feel anything but hate?" His voice cracked with the weight of his convictions, yet uncertainty lingered in the depths of his gaze, betraying the facade of certainty he sought to uphold.
With a radiant smile illuminating her features, Lucy Gray rose gracefully, closing the distance between them with fluid steps. As she drew near, she reached out, her arms enveloping him in a tender embrace. Rising onto her toes, she pressed her lips against his, sending the same shockwaves rippling through his body. Despite the pain of the cut on his mouth, it paled in comparison to the sweetness of her kiss, a bittersweet symphony of longing and remembrance. As their lips parted, a lingering warmth enveloped them, casting a spell of fleeting intimacy amidst the shadows of the night.
Coriolanus savored the sight of her face, each line and curve etched in his memory yet somehow altered, as if refracted through the prism of time. Despite the subtle differences, he knew without doubt that it was her. His gaze shifted downward, realizing they were both naked, submerged in the cool embrace of the lake.
With Lucy Gray cradled in his arms, Coriolanus felt the ache of his wounds, both physical and emotional, pulsating beneath the surface. "I loved you," he confessed, his words a whisper against the gentle lapping of the water.
A soft chuckle escaped Lucy Gray's lips, her laughter a haunting melody in the stillness of the night. "No, my dear. I loved you," she countered, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "You relish the sensation of possessing me, but that's a far cry from true love."
His heart recoiled at her words, a surge of indignation rising within him. "Bullshit," he retorted, his voice tinged with defiance. "You know that's not true. I loved you, I still do. You're the only woman I've ever loved."
But Lucy Gray remained undeterred, her gaze ablaze with an enigmatic allure. Ignoring his protestations, she leaned in once more, her kiss infused with a hunger that stirred something primal within him. In that fleeting moment, amidst the tangled web of desire and longing, Coriolanus found himself ensnared in her embrace once more, powerless to resist the pull of their shared destiny.
As Lucy Gray's touch caressed his dick, Coriolanus surrendered to the blissful oblivion of the moment, the soothing embrace of the water cocooning them in a world of their own. Yet, amidst the intoxicating haze of desire, a pang of guilt pierced his consciousness, a shard of clarity amidst the swirling mists of longing.
A name echoed in the recesses of his mind—Indila—a testament to the unwavering devotion that had been his anchor in the tempest of his emotions. Her love, steadfast and true, stood in stark contrast to the tumultuous whirlwind of his affair with Lucy Gray. It was a cruel irony, a cruel twist of fate that threatened to unravel the fragile threads of his conscience.
"Stop, please," Coriolanus pleaded, his voice a tremulous whisper in the night. Lucy Gray released him, confusion clouding her features as she retreated into the depths of the lake's embrace. "I can't. I'm married," he declared, the weight of his words heavy upon his heart. Yet, Lucy Gray's grin remained unyielding, a testament to her unwavering determination.
"It's never a problem when you have others in your arms," she countered, her words dripping with bitter irony. Despite his protestations, she drew him close once more, her embrace igniting a flicker of anger within him. "I mean it, please," Coriolanus implored, the weight of his words a bitter pill to swallow. For in that moment of truth, he knew that his love for Lucy Gray had long since withered, a mere shadow of the passion it once was.
"Yes," Lucy Gray murmured, her voice carrying a weight of resignation. "In this realm, you are wedded to me. Here, by the tranquil shores of the lake, we dwell, unbound and jubilant. Isn't this what you yearned for? Yet, each passing day, regret consumes you." Coriolanus stood, torn between reality and illusion, grappling with the elusive specter of Indila. Did she truly exist, or was she but a figment of his imagination, fading into oblivion with each passing moment?
With a sigh, Coriolanus surrendered to the intoxicating allure of Lucy Gray, his lips meeting hers in a fervent embrace. In that stolen moment, their bodies intertwined, desire ignited by the flickering flames of passion. As he pressed against her, he felt her yearning, a primal hunger mirrored in his own soul.
But as Lucy Gray's fingers caressed his hair, a shiver ran down Coriolanus's spine, reality crashing upon him like a tidal wave. His eyes fluttered open to darkness, the oppressive weight of the academy uniform pressing against his skin. Beside him, Lucy Gray stood, a haunting echo of their shared past, clad in the same dress she wore during the games.
"We are the last," she whispered, her voice trembling with an eerie solemnity. Confusion clouded Coriolanus's mind as he struggled to comprehend her words. Why were they here, and what did it mean? Before he could respond, Lucy Gray spoke again, her tone fraught with urgency. "You are the victor, Coriolanus. It is written in the stars." They were back to the arena.
With a sense of foreboding, Coriolanus watched as Lucy Gray fled into the darkness, a silent plea echoing in her wake. But as he pursued her, a chilling realization dawned upon him—he wielded a weapon, a harbinger of destruction in his trembling hands. With a sinking heart, he closed the distance between them, his grip tightening as Lucy Gray fell to the ground in terror, her anguished cries piercing the silence of the night. She yelled in terror when Coriolanus hit her.
Snow woke up.
The yell echoed through the room, jolting Snow awake. Expecting to find Indila beside him, he groped for her side of the bed, only to encounter dampness. Raising his hand to his nose, he detected the unmistakable scent of blood. A surge of panic propelled him out of bed, frantically reaching for the light switch. The bathroom light already illuminated the room, its door left ajar. His heart pounding, Snow's eyes fell upon a large stain of blood on their bed. Without hesitation, he rushed towards the bathroom.
There, he found Indila standing in shock, her white sleeping dress drenched in crimson. Blood pooled around her legs, a grim testament to the tragedy that had unfolded. In that harrowing moment, Snow realized the devastating truth—Aurora was gone. It was a scene of profound sorrow. Indila, six weeks pregnant, had been convinced they were expecting a girl, already christened with the name Aurora. Despite their cautious optimism, the cruel hand of fate had shattered their dreams. Snow couldn't help but feel a deep sense of attachment to the unborn child, now lost to them forever.
Snow allowed himself a moment to grieve, acknowledging the magnitude of their loss. Yet, amidst his sorrow, a realization dawned upon him—it was for the best. Indila would be devastated if he had to terminate the pregnancy later, if it turned out to be Spyridon's child. As Indila remained paralyzed, her gaze fixed on her blood-stained legs, Snow anticipated tears, but none came.
Instead, she met his gaze with an unexpected fury. "Do not ever mention this again," she seethed, her voice laced with anger. "I want it to be as if it never happened." Without waiting for a response, she left the bathroom, Snow trailing behind her. "Dila..." he attempted to speak, but she cut him off, her tone final. "Don't talk to me. I'll be using Crassus's bathroom and sleeping with him tonight. Please, don't follow me. Just get someone to clean up this mess."
Snow watched her leave, her anger palpable, a stark departure from her usual demeanor. Though unsettled by her fury, he chose to honor her request, respecting her need for space. Later, he would come to understand that Indila's coping mechanism involved burying painful experiences, pretending they never occurred.
Once the bed was clean, Snow lay down again, this time, alone. He resolved to inform Julliard in the morning, ensuring that nobody would speak of the incident. A sense of relief washed over him, grateful that he hadn't made the pregnancy public yet.
Snow found himself unable to sleep once again. Sometimes, he would dream about Lucy Gray, much like the dream he had experienced that night. She had been the love of his life, a fact he couldn't deny. In fact, Snow believed he had only truly been in three relationships throughout his entire life. The others didn't count; they were merely physical encounters.
The first relationship, of course, was with Lucy Gray. There was nothing more to be said about it—he had loved her deeply, even though she had manipulated him to ensure her own survival. Then there was Indila, a beacon of purity, innocence, loyalty, and love—a stark contrast to Lucy Gray. And unfortunately, between them, there was Livia.
Snow rarely thought about Livia, usually because he harbored a different kind of hatred for her compared to Lucy Gray. She disgusted him. Livia was a woman who commanded attention, but not for any admirable qualities. Her demeanor reeked of arrogance, every movement calculated to assert her perceived superiority. Tall and regal, she carried herself with an imperious grace, as if the world revolved solely around her. Her piercing gaze stripped away any pretense of humility, leaving Snow with a bitter taste in his mouth.
Livia's contempt for others knew no bounds. She treated them with disdain, barely acknowledging their presence and dismissing their contributions as inconsequential. This behavior was especially pronounced towards those who worked for them in the palace, whom she viewed as mere pawns in her game of power. Manipulation and deceit were her preferred tools, employed with ruthless efficiency to achieve her desires without a hint of remorse. From their school days onwards, she had mastered the art of spreading rumors and sabotaging others' efforts to further her own agenda.
Snow's disdain for Livia was palpable. During their marriage, he would only tolerate her presence during her ovulation period, and even then, he made a point to keep his eyes closed, or he would not be able of doing it. He couldn't bear to look at her; the thought alone was repulsive. Despite her cold and calculated demeanor, there were moments when Snow witnessed her vulnerability. He never imagined he would see her cry, but it happened occasionally, a stark reminder of her humanity amidst the facade of ice.
The first time Livia showed vulnerability was when she confessed to Snow that she had lost his first baby. In that moment, she appeared fragile, a stark contrast to her usual demeanor. It was a reaction Snow would have expected from Indila, and ironically, Indila's response to similar situations was what Snow had anticipated from Livia. Life, he mused, could be strange indeed.
Despite his initial shock, Snow felt a twinge of sadness at the loss of his first heir. It was Livia's sole duty, and yet she had failed at it. He couldn't help but wonder if history would repeat itself with Indila, but he tried to reassure himself—it was only her first pregnancy, everything would be fine.
As he lay in bed, the echoes of Livia's cries reverberated in his mind. She had always sought solace in her parents' arms, a testament to her childish nature. And yet, as he drifted off to sleep, a sense of relief washed over him. With Livia gone, there was no trace of her left—not even in their son, Crassus. It was almost as if she had never existed. How could she have been so incompetent? The two women who had once held sway over him were barely remembered by people around him. This thought made him smile. Snow lands on top.
With resolve hardening in his heart, Snow made a silent vow to himself. Tomorrow, he would face Indila as though nothing had happened. After all, he was the one in control.