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There was once a girl called Coriolania Iphigenia Snow, and she almost deserved it.
Coriolania had grown up spoiled. There was no way around it. Her father was a Snow—the son of the President himself—and her mother was a Heavensbee. She had a silver spoon in her mouth, and she knew it.
When her father was poisoned by a political opponent and her mother died shortly after of grief, her grandfather took her and her little sister in, and from there she was given everything she could’ve wanted—with a few exceptions. When she begged to dye her hair pink, grandfather turned her down, saying that was unprofessional and they had an image to maintain. It didn’t matter that all the girls at school were doing it. They weren’t the president’s granddaughter.
At twelve, Coriolania thought this refusal was world-ending.
Still, the good things outweigh the bad. She could do things no other girl her age could do, like when she got to have dinner with the handsome Finnick Odair. Her grandfather claimed he had business with him, but—he told Coriolania—the business could wait until after they had eaten and Coriolania had the chance to interrogate him to her heart's desire.
She didn’t learn anything interesting, though. According to his stories, life in District 4 was pretty boring, and he seemed unwilling to talk about his time in the Capitol, despite the fact that Coriolania knew he went to a bunch of high-profile parties. It was all over the gossip magazines.
But Finnick Odair wasn’t the only celebrity she got to meet. She liked celebrities—especially if they were Victors—and her grandfather liked to see her happy. So, he made all sorts of meetings happen.
For her thirteenth birthday, she met the 67th Victor, Augustus Braun. His last name fit him a bit too well in her opinion, as he was all brawns and no brains. She talked to him a little bit about her philosophy class, and he didn’t know any of the philosopher’s she talked about. She didn’t know how he wasn’t embarrassed about his lack of education. She guessed you don’t need to know philosophy to win the Hunger Games.
For her fifteenth birthday, she met the 69th Victor, a boring girl from District 10 named Charlotte. She was seventeen and awkward, but Coriolania had to admit she envied how skinny she was. She told her grandfather this, and he told her to cut back on how many sweets she ate.
Her little sister was tugging endlessly at her sleeves. “What Fulvia?” Coriolania snapped out.
Fulvia shrinks back, as if struck. Tentatively, she asks, “When are mom and dad going to come pick us up?”
Coriolania’s eyes grow watery, but her annoyance outways her sadness. Fulvia was young and stupid and she didn’t understand the concept of death, and Coriolania didn’t want to be the one to explain it to her. Coriolania had spent the whole funeral trying not to cry, while an Avox kept Fulvia sufficiently distracted with a card game.
“They aren’t coming back.”
“Why not?” Fulvia’s voice, already high, grows into an almost squeaky sort of sound.
Coriolania rubs her nose, which has started to run. “Because they died. We’re living with grandfather now.”
“But I don’t like grandfather,” Fulvia complains, still not fully understanding their situation. Coriolania spots a nearby Avox watching them. She sneers. She thought Avoxes weren’t supposed to be seen.
“Too bad.”
Coriolania brushes past her little sister and storms up to her room, locking the door behind her.
Coriolania’s best friend was a girl named Lacerta, but she went by Lacy. Relative to the rest of the girls in her class, she was a no one—not from an important family and middle of the class in just about every subject, but she was funny and made Coriolania laugh. She, like Coriolania, had undergone no cosmetic procedures even though she broke her nose three years ago and it was still crooked.
Once, Coriolania offered to pay for her nose job if she wanted—it was the least she could do for her best friend—but Lacy had gotten so offended she hadn’t talked to her in a week. Coriolania hadn’t mentioned anything cosmetic to her since.
Even without alterations, Lacy was the prettiest girl in the class, far outpacing Coriolania herself no matter what her grandfather, Capitol Couture writers, and the other girls in class told her.
Coriolania had spent more time than she would like to admit just staring at Lacy, studying how her curly hair always seemed to fall so perfectly compared to Coriolania’s straight, stringy hair that she spent an hour blowing out every morning. Her cheekbones were high and almost aristocratic, and her lips were plump despite Coriolania knowing she had never gotten lip fillers.
(Coriolania’s grandfather said she could get lip fillers for her sixteenth birthday—citing that it wasn’t an actual surgical procedure, so he was okay with it—and Coriolania was endlessly excited. She often wondered what Lacy would think of them.)
Coriolania had more friends than she could count, but something about Lacy was just special. She spent all of her freetime with her.
Until her grandfather said something to her about it.
Coriolania had invited Lacy to watch the 70th Hunger Games with her, and they were hunkered down in one of the plainer living rooms in the Presidential Mansion. Lacy was particularly interested in the male tribute from District 4—Perseus Jackson—but this wasn’t surprising, all the girls in their class (and some of the boys) were.
“He’s so hot,” Lacy gushed to her days before during the Tribute Parade. Coriolania had to agree, he was objectively handsome in the same way Finnick Odair was, but her childhood fascination with Finnick Odair had fizzled out over the years, and she wasn’t nearly as excited about Perseus as Lacy was.
Coriolania looked at Perseus, studying his face, his body, his outfit, because that is what everyone else was doing. But when the camera zoomed out to show the whole District 4 chariot, she ended up looking at the female tribute instead for reasons she couldn’t name and didn’t want to examine.
Lacy reflects the same sentiments about Perseus now, groaning every time the camera leaves Perseus to focus on another tribute. When he kills two high-ranking opponents—one of whom Corniolia had bet her allowance on winning—Lacy goes crazy, grabbing Coriolania’s hands and jumping up and down. Her excitement is infectious, and Coriolania finds herself cheering for Perseus too.
They fall asleep late that night, after they’ve become sure no one will kill Perseus (and the two girls he allied with, Annie and Judy) in the middle of the night.
When Lacy and Coriolania show up to breakfast with her grandfather the following morning, they both look disheveled and tired. Grandfather makes light conversation, asking for Lacy’s last name—Silver—and what kind of things her family does.
When Lacy leaves, Grandfather pulls her aside and tells her, “Remember you ought to be making friends with some of the other girls in your class, too. Don’t you have a Dovecote and Cardew in your class?”
Coriolania, despite what others say behind her back, isn’t stupid. She knows what he is saying, and begrudgingly, she starts spending less time with Lacy. Though she still finds herself staring from across the classroom.
And when Perseus wins it all, proving himself almost invincible in the arena, Coriolania hangs up a poster of him. She buys the Capitol Couture Victory Edition with him on the cover. She looks him up on Drip Drop to watch all the edits. He really is cute, she thinks to herself.
Antonia Vesta’s art studio is a sight to behold, even Coriolania, used to opulence, has to admit.
Antonia Vesta specializes in oil painting portraits. She had famously painted her grandfather’s portrait that hung up in the entrance of the Presidential Mansion. But that was a special commission. Usually, Antonia does portraits of celebrities—musicians, actors, victors, and occasionally, a particularly popular tribute who lost—and sells them to fans.
The appointment was more so for Julia and Valentina than it was for her, but the Snow name had made them a priority, so Coriolania was the one to file the request. Predictably, Julia and Valentina rush over to the painting of Perseus, and Coriolania follows. The portrait is flattering—because of course it is. His skin is a healthy tan, his eyes an unnatural blue-green, and his smile is shiny.
He’s perhaps the second most handsome man Coriolania has ever seen (Finnick Odair is still the handsomest, a small, young part of her says).
“How much does this one cost?” Julia asks.
Antonia rattles off a number high enough to give even Coriolania pause. If she spent that much money without telling her grandfather, she would be in deep trouble.
Julia’s face falls, and Coriolania empathizes. But only a little bit. She knows Julia already owns multiple posters of him; she doesn’t need a painting, too.
As they leave the appointment, all regrettably empty-handed, Coriolania’s eyes catch on a beautiful painting of Cashmere wearing her interview dress.
For her sixteenth birthday, she doesn’t get to meet Perseus Jackson, despite that it’s become somewhat of a birthday tradition for her to meet the latest Victor. Grandfather won’t tell her why, when she asks. Instead, she meets Cashmere, who was already in the Capitol for business. Coriolania acts disappointed, but is secretly pleased. She likes Cashmere a lot. She wishes she had bought that painting.
She does get the promised lip fillers, too. She thinks it looks good, but Lacy and her have almost entirely stopped talking now, so she can’t ask her what she thinks of them.
It's silly, but she hopes Lacy likes them.
Grandfather takes Fulvia and her to the grand opening of the 70th Arena for tourism. It's not the first arena Coriolania has toured, but she always just has to stand in awe when she enters one. It's a piece of history she's standing in.
Fulvia stays close to her side as they take a golf cart down to the Cornucopia. There'll be a reenactment of the blood bath tonight, but none of them will stay for that, grandfather thinks the reenactments are stupid. Fulvia and her take a trek led by a tour guide up to the reservoir where Perseus and his friends stayed. The water is still and empty—they killed the piranhas when the game ended—but it's nonetheless a gorgeous view.
And when they get back from their hike, Coriolania and Fulvia huffing from exertion, the golf cart takes them all up to the souvenir shop. Grandfather says they can buy whatever they want. Coriolania helps Fulvia get a poster of Perseus from a high shelf she can't reach.
"Ooh, he's so cute," she squeals. Coriolania smiles idly.
That night, when they get back from the Hovercraft ride, grandfather gathers them in the sitting room for guests, and they watch the news segment about the arena. While the girls had been hiking to the reservoir, grandfather was giving an interview right beside the cornucopia. Grandfather is an old man, Coriolania knows, but there's something powerful about how he talks while standing in the arena. He holds himself like the bravest Victor.
Then the news cuts to the reenactment, and grandfather gets up to leave. Coriolania has to agree with him as she watches a middle-aged man much less handsome than Perseus "kill" his opponents. They are stupid.
It’s the day after Coriolania’s seventeenth birthday—she had met Johanna Mason the day before, which was a disaster—and she flips mindlessly through a fashion magazine as boy band music flows through her speakers.
She had just gotten back from the movie theater with Valentina Cardew, and while the movie was good (a horror movie about a district citizen attacking a group of Capitol teens during their spring break in Decoris), she felt melancholy. She feels lonely, despite just having got back from hanging out with a friend.
Almost without thinking about it, she pulls out her phone and opens up Drip Drop to see what Lacy has been up to. She has both her real account and her secret account info—because they were besties for years, even if they aren’t talking now—and she goes to the real one first.
It’s bare. Lacy hasn’t posted anything since Coriolania started limiting their contact. For some reason, Coriolania’s stomach clenches.
She goes to her secret account next, where Lacy posts all her fanfiction, and she’s gladly surprised to see she’s been updating her fic roughly every couple of months.
“Oh No, My Mom Sold Me to Finnick Odair!” The title reads, and Coriolania can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes, despite the fact that she’s read it before (that’s what good friends do). Lacy had spent countless hours writing it, and she spent even more time telling Coriolania all about it. She told Lacy it was cringy, and after that, Lacy had stopped talking about it so much.
She had always assumed Lacy had stopped writing it.
Coriolania clicks through to the third most recent chapter, thinking that was around where she last left off. The main character—an obvious self-insert for Lacy, though described as much more boring than Coriolania would’ve ever described her—moves into Finnick’s house, and the description of the house eerily matches Coriolania’s own: gold engravings, floral wallpaper, mahogany, and elaborate paintings.
Coriolania is pretty sure the Victor’s houses weren’t that nice—at least, not enough to compare to the Presidential Manor, but Lacy had no way of knowing that—her family could’ve never afforded to travel to the resorts in District 4.
Coriolania scrolls through the fic, only half reading it. She comes across a description of a lighthouse painting, and she looks up. It perfectly matches the painting over her own bed—a cheap knick-knack she had bought the last time she had vacationed in Decoris. It’s ugly compared to Antonia Vesta’s work.
It was crazy to know Lacy was putting parts of her in the story she worked so hard on—even if it was just a painting. Coriolania reads much more carefully after that.
Finally, she gets to the author’s note at the end of the chapter. “Hope you all enjoyed this chapter :)” it reads, “thanks for all the well-wishes I got on the last chapter. My friend still isn’t talking to me, and she hasn’t explained why, but writing this fic has really helped distract me.”
Coriolania’s vision blurs. That same strange mix of sadness and annoyance she felt when Fulvia asked about their parents comes back. Was she the friend Lacy was talking about? She wonders.
A whooshing sound like rushing water begins, and for a moment, Coriolania thinks it’s coming from her head, like some sort of premonition of a headache, but an unmistakable crack of thunder forces her to look up.
The painting she had looked at earlier was… moving. There was no better word for it; the waves in the painting were slamming against the canvas in a torrential rage. She stares frozen at the painting, half-sure she’s hallucinating. But the waves only grow angrier, until the canvas seems to break, and water pours out of the picture frame. In no time, there’s a foot of water spread all throughout her bedroom floor.
In horror, Coriolania runs to her bedroom door, only to find it locked. She pulls on the doorknob again and again even harder. It shouldn’t be locked, her deadbolt is unlocked, and the door doesn’t lock from the other side.
Soon enough, the water is at her upper thighs, pouring out of the painting at ridiculous speeds, and she’s really panicking. She wants to wake up from whatever nightmare she’s in right now .
The poster of Perseus Jackson she had hung up over a year ago falls into the water and the music stops playing—presumably because her speakers are waterlogged.
Something tugs at her leg, and suddenly, Coriolania is underwater. It’s dark and murky, and when she opens her eyes again, her room is entirely gone. It almost looks like she’s out in the open ocean, though that can’t be possible. This whole thing is just a really crazy dream. Maybe she should tell her doctor the anxiety meds he prescribed are having some bad side-effects.
That’s when the burning starts.
It starts in her lungs, and she worries she must’ve swallowed water, but it quickly spreads all the way to the top of her head and down to the tips of her toes. Her muscles clench like the worst charley horse she’s ever had, and they don’t seem to ever unclench. Instead, it almost feels like her flesh peels away like the skin of an orange. The water around her grows unnaturally hot, and she’s scared to open her eyes. Her limbs flail around wildly, completely out of her control.
And then it all stops. Her nerves vibrate from experiencing so much pain so quickly, and she tries to kick out her feet to swim upward, only it doesn’t work. She slowly opens her eyes to look down, and that is the worst part of the nightmare yet.
Because where before was a teenage girl, now lies what is undeniably a sea serpent. A long, slimy body stretches out in the ocean around her.
Coriolania thinks her face twists in sorrow, but it’s hard to tell, since her face is no longer human. She snaps her mouth shut, and oversized teeth nick her lips. She tastes saltwater, and logically knows it is the ocean, but imagines it instead to be her tears.
“Hello?” A vaguely familiar voice calls, and Coriolania turns around because how much worse could this nightmare get, anyway?
And meters away lies a face Coriolania would know anywhere. It’s the face of the girl from Perseus’s game. It’s Annie Cresta.