#corioloanus snow

[bittenhighschoolgames]

Sitting outside on the edge of an old wall, Aveline had finally some time off from her Peacekeeper duties. She had arranged a few things for her lunch, happy she could enjoy some outdoor time.

Even though she was one of the few women stationed as a Peacekeeper in the district, Aveline was glad to have her brother and friend in the same situation as her. Having extra food around, she smiled weakly, giving him a few sandwiches when he appeared "Worrying again, big bro? You know that I'm not in danger." She did love him for looking out for her. "Here. You look like you need it." @snowsfallen

[saturnville]

a symphony of regret, corioloanus snow

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x black fem oc (illia furdoix). warning: book accurate snow, arranged marriage, toxic!coriolanus. trigger warning: stupid coriolanus. content: it's been weeks since their tense interaction, which has allowed coriolanus to ponder about his marriage with illia, and he begins to realize what he could lose.

an: I got an ask from @ietss about these two and figured I'd come out of temporary retirement to post it. anyway, I was listening to the "scheming" instrumental and this is what came to mind. by the way, this is long.

tags: @snowlandsontopp @babyzzlove @hlstead @rosewine-5 @unicornqueen05 @thegabbyh @neeville @fastlikealambo @urfavesim to keep your spot on the tag list, you are expected to interact! reblog and comment for continued work!

The air in Coriolanus Snow's office hung heavy with the scent of authority, a blend of polished mahogany and the subtle fragrance of Capitol roses. The room itself was a testament to his ascendancy—ornate furniture, walls adorned with portraits of influential figures, including that of his father, and the sprawling view of the Capitol below from the towering windows.

Coriolanus sat behind his desk, fingertips pressed together in contemplation. The city sprawled before him, a chessboard of power, each move calculated and premeditated.

His piercing blue eyes, cold as the ice in his veins, scanned the landscape below. The serenity of the evening concealed the storm brewing within him. It was a symphony of power and regret, a melody only he could decipher.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of crimson and burnt orange across the sky, Coriolanus's gaze fixated on a figure below. A siren dressed in all black, a stark contrast to the opulence of the Capitol. Illia Furdoix, his wife.

She moved with ethereal grace, scarlet heels clicking against the pavement in a cadence that echoed in his mind. He could recognize its cadence with ease. Her dark hair, meticulously blown out, danced in the evening breeze. A new bag adorned her arm, a silent testament to his observation. When they were engaged, he caught her eyes dancing across the details as they passed through a boutique.

But it was the wedding set on her left hand that held his attention—the flawless oval diamond in a high setting, a public symbol of their union. Only he knew the intricate secret engraved within the bands—his name etched into hers, hers into his. A silent vow, a binding commitment, a show that ended without applause once the audience was no longer around.

On her lips was a smile. It was bright and gleaming as she spoke to the individual in front of her. A man. Another man. A man who was not him. A man who was not him, that made her smile so wide that her dimples made a rare appearance.

Her head flew back in laughter. A sound he was not sure he could recognize by memory. What man didn't recognize his wife's smile and sound of laughter? A man who could only recognize the sound of his wife's cries. Cries that he provoked with ease.

Coriolanus felt a pang of recognition, a revelation unfolding. The grandeur of the Capitol office faded into the background as the weight of his regrets settled upon his shoulders. The realization was a slow burn, a dawning awareness that he had been blind to the depth of his own failings.

He was a terrible husband.

Coriolanus was used to control. He was used to fixing problems immediately, hovering over every move until it was completed to his standard. But, this, his marriage; was the one thing he couldn't control. The potential of losing his marriage, of losing his wife, was great. What could he do to combat that?

No amount of gifts, money, or luxury would change her mind. He couldn't buy her forgiveness. Coriolanus was many things but he was far from a fool. None of that would work on her. He wouldn't be convinced that it would work on him if the roles were reversed.

If the roles were reversed, he pondered. How would he feel? Having been fed a lie by a gold spoon. Having dreams of perfect love and marriage shattered by the hand of the one who was supposed to the heart with care and compassion. Could he imagine her brushing past him as she walked through the door when all he wanted was to feel her lips against his? What about her dismissing his attempts at conversation so she could bury her head in paperwork? Or if she only responded to his touch to get a release and not to feel their souls coming together as one? If she'd bullied him the way he had done her.

His world would crumble.

Coriolanus sat back in his white chair, the cold veneer of authority crumbling alongside the fragments of his self-assuredness. The sun had surrendered to the night, casting long shadows that mirrored the looming darkness enveloping his conscience.

Below, the Capitol glittered with its false promises, a city built on illusions that mirrored his own life. Illia continued her conversation, oblivious to the turmoil she stirred within him. The man by her side, a mere spectator in this intricate dance of revelation, remained blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the nation's most powerful man.

Coriolanus' eyes, once icy and calculating, betrayed a vulnerability not often seen. A husband's failures, a leader's regrets—all laid bare in the privacy of his office.

Amid the turmoil, a determination ignited within him. He was a political strategist. A machine that could not be shut down or destroyed, If he, the most powerful man in the nation, he could figure out how to control the fate of his marriage. A plan unfolded, a strategy born of desperation and remorse. He would win her back, not with gifts or grand gestures, but with a genuine reformation of character.

The clinking of Illia's scarlet heels against the pavement below echoed in his ears, a haunting reminder of the distance that had grown between them. He rose from his chair, the crimson hues of the city below mirroring the resolve in his eyes. His eyes followed her as she made her way to the Capitol building.

It was not long before he heard soft chatter outside the door. "Is my husband in his office?" Her voice was soft, low.

"Yes, Mrs. Snow." Peacekeepers scrambled to open the door for her. The two doors peeled open, revealing Illia Furdoix Snow in all her wonder. Coriolanus' heart increased in rate for the first time in a long time.

Once the doors closed, the pleasant smile on Illia's lips dropped to a straight line. Her fingers brushed the flyaway hairs away from her face, then gripped her purse. "I cooked. Then I came to the city to look for new towels for the bathroom. Wanted to let you know your plate will be in the oven whenever you get back. I assume I'll see you in the morning, so be safe tonight."

Illia's tone was emotionless and it made his nerves spike. Was this how she felt all this time?

Coriolanus cleared his throat and walked around his desk. His dress shoes kissed the marble floor as he made his way to her. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants. "I, um, I planned on coming home tonight. And eating dinner with you."

Illia's head jerked back and her eyebrows raised. The shock was written over her features like a book. Her lips parted but words did not flow from them. She wasn't convinced.

"Illia," Coriolanus said lowly. "I owe you an apology. It's long overdue and it won't make up for what I've put you through, but I..."

Her gaze remained fixed on him, a mix of skepticism and curiosity playing in her eyes. Coriolanus swallowed the lump forming in his throat, acutely aware of the gravity of his words.

"I've taken you for granted, disregarded your feelings, and failed as a husband. "The man you've seen, the man who rarely came home and when he did, brought nothing but a cold presence—I don't want to be that man anymore."

Coriolanus paused, allowing his words to hang in the air. The vulnerability he displayed was unfamiliar, a crack in the stoic facade he wore so effortlessly. Illia's teeth caught her bottom lip as her eyes welled with tears. She began to rock back and forth on the balls of her feet in anxiousness. Was this truly a reality?

"You deserve more than a distant husband. You deserve someone who cherishes you, who respects you, and who appreciates the warmth and love you bring into our home," he continued, his gaze never leaving hers. "I want to be that person for you. I know you may not believe it right now, I know actions speak louder than words, but I am going to show you that I want to be and can be the man you dreamt of having as a husband...if you'll let me."

The weight of the moment hung in the air, the room silent except for the distant hum of the Capitol outside. Coriolanus awaited her response, his heart pounding with a vulnerability he hadn't felt in years.

For the first time, she cracked a smile in his presence. It was small- and only showed a few of her teeth, but she smiled. She smiled because of him. Illia smiled because of him.

"Thank you for your apology," she started. "Accountability is important when trying to change. I can't make any promises to you, Coriolanus, of how long it will take for me to trust you or for us to get to the point where we would like to be, but, I do believe you're being sincere. So, we'll take it a day at a time."

Coriolanus released the breath he was unaware he held tight within his chest. Maybe he did have control over something after all.

"Let's go home, Coriolanus." Home. The word resonated with a chance at redemption. Taking her hand, Coriolanus followed Illia out of the office, leaving the weight of the past behind and stepping into the uncertain but hopeful future.