"She was twice as beautiful, and her mind thrice as more deadly. No one could compare to her, and that's what Coriolanus loved about her. He believed she was the only one in the world who was meant for him and no person or thing could take her away from him."
— Plutarch Heavensbee

It felt stupid. It was stupid these games. She would have rather not watched the parade. Especially if it meant all the way in the president's box with Coriolanus who was only two seats away from where President Ravinstill sat. I only have a page to write a page of her much-anticipated paper as Drusilla rubbed her temple.

"You alright darling?" she felt Coriolanus' hand on her thigh. Drusilla supressed her distain with a gentle smile.

"Mhmm," she nodded. The male smiled and hands her a screen, Drusilla looking at him with a puzzled look.

"It's for you to take a closer view of the designs and the tributes," he informs. "Tigris is designing for district one." Drusilla's lifts her hand and scrolls using her freshly manicured burgundy french tips as Coriolanus' cold eyes drew towards the bracelet.

"You're still wearing it," he smiles pridefully.

"It's my favourite bracelet," she says smoothly watching Coriolanus intertwine his fingers with hers and lifts her hand to give it a kiss. Drusilla mentally rolls her eyes, eyeing carefully at the president's wife next to him who watched with a hint of despair and envy at the young couple.

"The bets are opening now at the parade correct?"

"Yes, these screens will allow them to look at their physicality. First impressions are everything after all," Coriolanus hums. Drusilla chuckles at the tactic shaking her head and looks down at the crowd. A poor load of fools of her soon-to-be husband's schemes. Pouring bets before their was more data to be shared. Materialistic fools.

"My love," she tilted her head closer to him as he hummed in response. "I've been reviewing data patterns on the last five years of winners of the games. We should invest in training programs in one and two," Drusilla advised on a hushed tone as politicians and their partners began to squirm in their seats excitingly as the tributes began to fall in riding newly implemented chariots, as per suggested by Coriolanus being inspired by Ancient Rome. "Control the outcomes, control the plot, control the bets. We pre-create the characters. Predetermine the winners and the losers. There's other stuff I believe you should look into of course with your own twist. I sent it to your political advisor."

Coriolanus chuckles lowly shaking his head as he turned his attention down at the tributes who began to circle around the veranda. He was fond of the idea of how miniscule they look. How much they were in his control. He liked—, craved the idea of playing god with the districts, and only a few seats away from playing god with all of Panem. Now, with Drusilla by his side, he now could.

"I look forward to reading them my dove," he kisses her hand again and as the president finishes his speech Coriolanus gets up and makes his way to the stand.

⎯⎯⎯

Livia Cardew knew it was common knowledge there were three main contenders that everyone knew who were brewing to establish their future presidential candidacy after, of course, the much-anticipated death of President Ravinstill. Many of the older senators had bet their money on the younger generation who either would use them as a political device to carry on their political vision into the future or simply allied with them as Coriolanus' generation became the reckoning force of the future. After all theirs barely held their forces against the districts. People wanted to flourish under a new era.

There was first Domitia de Julax, a highly skilled senator whose family reigned from a pharmaceutical empire that arose during the dark days and who strategically married her husband Gnaeus de Julax who was a leading figure in the media industry. Second of course was Pausanias Kipsbrawn who was a year above her and Coriolanus in the academy and was in a two-year relationship with some Capitol model who didn't even attend the academy. He was a known conservative and valued much of tradition and won the influence of the 'older' faction. Finally, of course, there was Coriolanus Snow who looked to the future. She never thought much of him back in her academy years, but ever since he had gotten back from twelve after the tenth hunger games one would be considered a fool is they weren't already enamoured by his presence, intrigued to say the least.

He was ambitious before but something about him now had made every person in the city fall at his feet as the games to win the wedding ring and becomes Coriolanus' partner was afoot. Alas, however, he had set his sights on Drusilla.

Drusilla von Tougaard. A name that struck something far worse than fear in the hearts of anyone who heard it. How am I mother am I supposed to compete with someone like that? You deem me a failure when I am to compete with someone like that?

At the start of her university years, the Cardews had since been met with a horrible scandal that were thankfully under wraps. They were threatened by an anonymous person to pay off huge debts that Livia's grandfather had used as a loan to expand their family's wealth but never paid off. Although it was well kept under wraps, the threat of them being easily exposed without any proper support network after the death of her father during the war remained imminent.

She knew her limitations. She knew she couldn't charm whoever she pleased like Coriolanus and Drusilla did. She did not have an old-guard name nor an immediate presence and air to her like Drusilla did.

If anything, she did not hold any sort of resentment toward her. She found her annoying but alas no hatred. At first, she thought she was simply trying to survive like the rest of them, but now. Now she was simply a victim of the pressures of duty and family.

Her gaze lingered at the other side of the room, knowing now the suffering Drusilla was fighting as she listened dutifully alongside with Coriolanus to Dr Gaul. She look tired. So tired. She would work herself to death like she would have to.

Poor Drusilla. Tragic Drusilla.

On the other side of the room, Drusilla listened attentively enough to seem that she cared to the two student mentors to district four who was the cousin of Coriolanus' friend... she forgotten or cared less about in truth and the latter who bored her from the start he opened his mouth. Another clone from the academy, she whispered to Coriolanus who would snicker agreeing with his soon-to-be wife.

The two, a girl dressed in the latest Tigris couture collection of meticulous beaded pearl gown with tulle that scored points for Drusilla and Coriolanus with a dramatic blue eyeshadow that shimmered in various hues of pink and blue, and the boy who dressed in a deep blue suit and kilt that lacked any interest from Coriolanus.

Though she barely spoke, the two felt more intimidated by Drusilla who they noted as thought to be exaggerated by the articles, the jewel of Coriolanus' eye, as he held a firm soothing arm around her waist. There was clearly so terrifying and alluring about Drusilla who seemed to have more unpick psychologically then look down at them.

Perhaps the articles weren't exaggerating about her beauty. The deep red gown and gold corset with a matching halo crown made her look more divine than mortal. Her eyes, that were enhanced by the deep foxy brown eyeshadow and deep shade of red gave her such a untouchable aura about her. A cursed jewel shrouded by the aroma of roses the girl picked up on as she practically recited her pitch to Coriolanus.

She talks too fast Drusilla drawled. She had no gravitas. She has something to prove. I don't know how Coriolanus is doing this.

Of course, whenever Coriolanus spoke there was clear shift in power. Ever since he came back to the Capitol anew he behaved in a manner he nothing to prove without seeming arrogant. He had his charm and the way he talked was so alluring that no would dare to interrupt what he was saying.

"And furthermore, what we propose—"

"Propose?" Drusilla drawled, cutting through the air with a tone that sent heads turning. "Tell me, dear, how do you plan to command respect when you're scrambling to convince us you're worth listening to?" she tilted her head.

The girl faltered, her brows knitting together in confusion. Her gaze flitted nervously toward her partner who only gulped at the sudden sharp words of the quiet Drusilla who was attentively listening to her.

"P-pardon?" the student stammered, but Drusilla was already tilting her head, as if dissecting the girl where she stood.

"You talk too fast," Drusilla continued, the words sliding from her lips like honey laced with poison. "It's not confidence, it's panic. You're compensating for something—weakness, insecurity, fear. Maybe all of the above. You're aware of your inadequacies, and it shows."

The student's face flushed, but Drusilla pressed on, her gaze narrowing like a predator's. "And your tribute strategy—it's all wrong. You're focusing on what you think will impress us and the Capitol, rather than what's best for the tribute. Am I right? Your proposition really lied within how you cared for your tribute and a shared comradery which is a new tactic and commendable, but your commodification of the tribute is cracking."

"I—"

"You're trying to force your tribute into a mould that doesn't suit them. You're setting them up for failure. Why?" Drusilla's voice softened, but the sharpness remained, a scalpel slicing through pretence. "Are you trying to prove yourself, or protect them? Because it looks like you're more interested in saving face than saving a life. I thought your tactic was to care for them. A blooming friendship between Capitol and district. Unity under your words the mind and the body."

The girl's mouth opened, but no words came. Drusilla watched her with an almost predatory amusement, her smile deepening. This was too easy. The girl's confidence had been a mask, and now that it was slipping, all Drusilla could see was the panic underneath. She was too confident. These proud Capitols. Thinking they care when they don't.

"Tell me," Drusilla purred, "how long do you think your tribute will survive, given the current state of your plan?"

The girl blinked rapidly, her hands shaking as she tried to gather herself. "I—I have faith in—"

"Faith?" Drusilla laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent chills through the two of them. "Faith is for those who have no control. You're losing control, and you don't even realise it. Your tribute will die before the first cannon sounds, if they make it that far."

There was a long, pregnant pause. The student looked like she might crumble under the weight of Drusilla's gaze. But it wasn't just about breaking her down—no, this was something more. She was testing her.

Coriolanus watched with rapt attention. He admired it—no, he was obsessed with it. Her mind was sharper than any blade in the Capitol. No partner, no person could contend with her. And she was all his. His beautiful darling wife.

But Drusilla was already losing interest. She sighed, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear and standing abruptly.

"Best of luck to your tribute," she offered a smile and her hand. Mortal to God. "To yours too," she lifted her cup to her lips as her gaze casted towards the other student who smiled. Drusilla contained her smirk as the two beehive their way out through the crowd.

Coriolanus' merely chuckles and places a loving kiss on her cheek.

"I couldn't bear another word from her," Drusilla huffed looking at her empty glass and puts it on a Avox's tray.

"She was quite dull wasn't she" Coriolanus hums. "As the games expand that students as mentors won't last to meet the entertainment standards."

"Hmm, well then Mr Head gamemaker," Drusilla fixes his rose lapel, "You better come up with a contingency plan soon, you won't be always game maker for long." she winks.

"And you won't be just the wife of a head game maker as well," Coriolanus smirked lifting her hand and kisses it.

"I'm going to grab a bite," she says.

"I'll be talking to Ravinstill," he informs. Drusilla nods with a smile and once she parts away from him she mentally sighs, making her way outside to the courtyard feeling a sense of relief from the fresh air.

She grabs a small plate and picks a few assortments of small deserts and pastries that packed with a masterful blend of various flavours. "Miss von Tougaard," a voice chimes. Her interest piques. Ever since she had moved in with Coriolanus people had either called her professor von Tougaard or already Mrs Snow that had caught on with a interview with Lucky Flickerman when she was on his new rising talkshow.

"Ah, Pausanias Kipsbrawn," she raised a brow, taking a bite of her pastry which she instantly put back down on her plate. Attempting to hide the distaste between the lemon and strawberry blend.

Pausanias, newly elected senator in management of district affairs was a handsome figure to the public and was notoriously known for dating strictly models and his secretaries even in his academy days.

"Well, the articles I thought were first were exaggerating but it's true what everyone says, your far more beautiful in person," he smiles attempting to kiss her hand that he mistakes for her slowly lifting but then reaches for the glass on the table that she lifts to her lips.

"Thank you senator..." she smiles "no one spoke of your beauty either" Drusilla jests.

"Miss von Tougaard," he began, placing his drink down. "I had the pleasure of reading the abstract of your upcoming paper. Quite impressive, I must say. I understand you're focusing on military strategy, something close to my heart—considering my responsibilities overseeing the districts."

Drusilla took another sip, her face unreadable but her mind already working through his words. "It's always flattering to know one's work garners attention, Senator," she replied, the slightest edge of mockery veiled behind her smile. "Though I doubt military strategy is as close to your heart as the optics of managing district affairs."

Pausanias chuckled lightly, not deterred by the jab. "Optics matter, Drusilla—may I call you Drusilla? But it's more than that, isn't it? The management of Panem's future isn't simply about looking good; it's about securing our power. Surely, as a professor of military strategy, you understand that maintaining control is as much about perception as it is force."

Drusilla let a brief silence hang in the air, pretending to consider his words as she placed her plate back on the table. "Perception, Senator," she began carefully, "is certainly important, but only if it's backed by substance. The kind of substance that doesn't come from vanity projects or flashy district visits but from actual strategy—something I'd assume you'd have read in my abstract."

He laughed, a touch too loudly. "Touché," he said, leaning in slightly. "But speaking of strategy, I've noticed some...interesting choices being made under Coriolanus Snow's direction. This new approach to the Hunger Games, for example. I wonder, do you think it's wise to shift so much power and focus on the Games? It seems... distracting."

Ah, there it was. Drusilla knew this was coming—he'd set the stage with his flattery, easing into the real reason for this conversation. He wanted to question Coriolanus' methods, indirectly suggesting his own superiority. He had read enough of her abstract to try and play her own logic against Snow's plan.

She tilted her head slightly, her smile sharpening. "Distraction, Senator? The Games are hardly a distraction—they are the foundation of Panem's stability. Coriolanus' vision ensures the districts remain pacified while the Capitol strengthens its hold. A public demonstration of power, elegantly concealed as entertainment, is hardly a misstep. In fact, I would argue it's the most strategic move we've seen since Ravinstill's presidency."

Pausanias' smile faltered for a split second, but he recovered quickly, raising his glass in acknowledgment. "Of course. But one must wonder how sustainable that strategy is in the long term. The districts, as you know, are growing restless. Shouldn't we be focusing on unifying Panem through more... traditional means? Strengthening the economy, for example, or fostering political goodwill?"

"And what would you propose?" Drusilla asked smoothly, already knowing his answer. He was such a bore. If her father were here he would have walked mid-conversation.

"Well, for one, I would focus less on theatrics and more on diplomacy," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "There are ways to manage the districts without resorting to spectacle. True leadership isn't about inciting fear but inspiring loyalty."

The corner of Drusilla's mouth curled, her gaze never leaving his. "Inspiring loyalty, Senator? I see. By dating your secretaries, I assume?" The blow was delivered with such precision that it struck before Pausanias could react, his face betraying a flicker of anger before he masked it again.

"You mistake Coriolanus' vision for a temporary performance when it is, in fact, a long-term strategy to ensure Panem's survival. Fear, Senator, is a form of respect when wielded correctly. Your 'traditional' methods would leave us vulnerable to rebellion, to chaos. The Games unify through fear because the districts know that their very existence depends on Capitol's mercy."

Pausanias leaned back, his smile now more forced. "And you truly believe that's the future of Panem?"

"I don't just believe it," Drusilla said, her eyes narrowing. "I know it. The moment we lose control, we lose everything. But then again, Senator, I wouldn't expect someone of your... experience to grasp that. You've always relied on charm and optics, haven't you? Perhaps that's why you think diplomacy alone can save Panem. But charm doesn't win wars—strategy does."

Pausanias' face hardened, his earlier amusement now replaced with cold calculation. But even as he tried to muster a retort, he realised she had already outmaneuvered him. The conversation had shifted, and everyone watching could see it.

He raised his glass once more, though this time the gesture felt more like a concession than a toast. "Well, Drusilla," he said, his tone now more measured, "I must say, you've earned every accolade your mind has received. Dr. Gaul herself spoke highly of you— and I see now why. It's clear you're as sharp as they say."

"Thank you, Senator," she replied cooly, her voice smooth.

Pausanias set down his glass, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I only wonder," he said, leaning in closer, "whether you're wasting your brilliance defending Snow's plans. With a mind like yours, you could do so much more. Perhaps, with the right partner..."

Drusilla cut him off with a laugh that was light and yet with a poisonous edge to it. "Oh, Senator," she said, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "You assume far too much. But let me make something clear— your kind of partnership isn't one I aspire to. I prefer working with equals, not... " she pretended to look at him up and down "...distractions."

Pausanias stiffened. "Excuse me Drusilla—"

"It's professor."

"Pardon?"

"It's professor von Tougaard," she popped the small strawberry tart in her mouth before he left. She shook her head and eyed at the timid reporter who thought she hadn't notice her and grinned.

We should all take our advantages when they are presented.

Hey guys! Sorry for the lack of updates. I've been busy with starting uni and my course is very time demanding.

Thank you for all of your support and I will be continuing this however it will be slow updates as I am adjusting to the new book as well Sunrise on the Reaping and thinking plot wise if it will match up or not.