Our Love Could Be Lethal

Act II: Once Upon a Midnight Dreary

Just an FYI, writing parts of this chapter broke my heart into a million pieces. I can't believe we're halfway through the first book/movie and, therefore, Act II of our story. This is the longest chapter by far at 7.5k words. Enjoy!

The song for the chapter is from the Hunger Games soundtrack itself, and one of my favourites "Tenuous Winners/Returning Home". It's a great song to put you into the vibes of the chapter if you like to read with music as it's all instrumental. 

The morning air at the President's house is crisp. Snow always likes to get a head start on the day and wake up early. "An 11?" questions President Snow as he cuts the thorns off of a white rose from his bush. He remains seated on a bench while Seneca Crane, who he summoned, stands in front of him.

"She earned it."

Snow looks up from his rose pruning, unamused. "She shot an arrow at your head."

"Well, at an apple," corrects Seneca.

"Near your head." Seneca nods, understanding not to push things too far. "Sit down." The Headgamemaker obliges and sits next to Snow on the bench. "Seneca, why do you think we have a winner?"

Seneca looks around for a moment, confused by the question. "What do you mean?"

Snow doesn't concede and presses his question even further, not letting Seneca escape answering. "I mean, why do we have a winner?" Seneca remains silent with no answer. Yet, Snow wants Seneca to answer for himself. "I mean, if we just wanted to intimidate the districts, why not round 24 of them at random and execute them all at once? Be a lot faster." Still, Seneca doesn't seem to get where this is going at all. "Hope."

If Seneca wasn't thoroughly thrown off before, he is now. "Hope?"

"It is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective." Snow picks some leaves off of the rose he is holding. "A lot of hope is dangerous. A spark is fine as long as it's contained."

After all of the explaining and hand-holding, Seneca still doesn't understand. "So...?"

"So contain it."

"Right."

Seneca is ushered out, leaving President Snow on his own. Although, he is only left alone for a few moments because a pair of footsteps can be heard echoing throughout the garden. "Sir," greets Plutarch. He gives a small polite bow of the head when Snow looks up from his rose pruning.

"Plutarch, to what do I owe the pleasure? I've been dealing with the girl from 12's crisis all morning. I trust you bring some more interesting news."

Plutarch considers his words for a moment. "Possibly. Octavia Jones has asked me to relay a message to you."

"Has she now?" In amusement, Snow drops the rose and turns his full attention to Plutarch.

"Yes, sir, she has," says Plutarch, mild discomfort in his voice.

"Well then, let's hear it."

Plutarch looks up, trying to make sure that he recites the quote exactly. "She said, and I quote, 'the white rose brooch wants to know how the pretty rose got so many thorns'."

Suddenly, Snow starts to chuckle, a deep, hearty chuckle, which some might describe as unsettling for a man of his demeanour. "Oh, I bet she did say that."

However, Plutarch is behind. He still doesn't understand what it means. He's worked out a few possible answers, but he isn't sure about anything. "And what do you think it means, sir?"

Snow stops chuckling and turns to his Propaganda Minister. "I think it's best for you that you don't know. Willful ignorance is much easier to act out than feigning it." Still, Plutarch can't work out what's going on.