Fairy Tale Heart
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Alma believed in fairy tales.
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She had grown up in a bubble, as the only child of the wealthy Minor and Beatriz Coin, the apple of her father's eye. Her mother, Beatriz, had left when she was very young, leaving her father heartbroken. She had been told, ever since she was a little girl, that during the horrible aftermath of her mother's abandonment, she was the only thing that kept her father's heart beating. A statement to which Alma would respond with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
Despite the lack of a mother, Alma had what would be called a charmed childhood. Her father was a very rich and influential business man, but at the same time, kind and caring. She grew up in a large manor in the Capitol city not too far from the President's mansion, with a huge garden and courtyard and servants and private tutoring and everything she could want. The life of a fairy tale princess.
Then she met Gideon.
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Gideon was forbidden, and maybe that was the thing that made him so appealing.
A street rat, one that screamed trouble, but handsome and captivating with blonde hair and blue eyes and a mischievous smile. It was love at first sight—her going head over heels. She wanted Gideon Tinnings. Forget his lack of money, he was her hoodlum on a black motorcycle. He told her that he could show her the world—take her out of the manor where she had grown up all her life, take her to parties, show her what living was.
At eighteen years, to a girl who had grown up in almost complete seclusion, Gideon seemed perfect.
And she believed him.
Despite her father's warnings and anger, she married him. She invited him to live with her in her manor, she gave him money, she gave him love, and she thought it was enough.
Until the day she came home and saw him with another woman.
He hadn't even tried to deny it. He had shrugged and told her that it had been going on for a while, and this wasn't the first woman she'd done it with. Alma, you're boring. To a guy like me, I need fire.
He had been using her—using her for money and influence. He had set a trap for her, and she had fallen right into it. Of course, when her father had found out—which was fairly soon, as Alma told her father everything—he had kicked Gideon out. It had left her heartbroken, but what else could they have done?
Like father, like daughter.
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Except Alma didn't have a daughter or a son for her to pour her love into. Instead, she had her father. She and her father grew closer, but it wasn't enough. Gideon's words rang in her head, over and over and over. Alma, you're boring. You're boring. Boring. But what else could she do? Boring, she thought, was all she knew, as she tended to her garden and clipped her roses. This was the way she lived for the next ten years, alone in her father's home, growing roses and waiting for her Prince Charming.
What else could she do?
Then he came.
Coriolanus Snow.
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Alma still believes in fairy tales.
And like a fairy tale, it's in the rose garden where they meet.
"I always have had a lovely appreciation for roses," he tells her, putting a rose in her hair. "And lovely women."
His breath smells like roses. For the first time in ten years, she feels her heart beat.
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Coriolanus was everything Gideon wasn't.
For instance, her father approved of him. Coriolanus, her father told her, was a politician. Her father was always wary around politicians because they were always trying to gain his support. Him being a wealthy influential businessman and everything; politicians were always looking for support and sponsorship.
But Coriolanus was different. He was kind and gentle and steady. Not bad-boy-good-looking the way Gideon had been, but charming. Yes, that was the word for him. Charming.
And, now being in her early forties, Coriolanus was exactly what she needed. It seemed like her heart would heal.
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"The boy, does he make you happy?" her father asks after she's been seeing Coriolanus for a few months.
"Yes," she answers, with a nod and a smile.
"Good," her father says. "He would make a wonderful addition to the family, don't you think?"
She squeals, really squeals, and jumps into her father's arms. "Are you serious?"
He nods.
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A few weeks later, Coriolanus Snow is elected as President of Panem. She's proud and happy and sure that this is the right man, and she's going to propose. Of course, it's traditional for the man to propose, but she doesn't want to wait. She has her father's permission, and she's in love again except this time it's the real thing, she's sure of it, and it's just so wonderful, so wonderful, and she's going to propose.
She buys a ring, and the night she's planned it, she leads him to the rooftop terrace of their mansion, brings a basket for a midnight picnic, and they gaze at the stars.
"Alma, princess, you're ever so dear to me," he tells her, placing a hand over hers.
She smells the roses on his breath, and she almost swoons—almost. But something's different. The breath she'd always smelled seems… different. Her senses heighten and she smells it again; the scent is acrid—sharp—wrong.
But she ignores the little nagging voice, reaches for the ring, and begins with the speech she has planned. "I love you, Cory."
And that's when she senses the wrong again, because for a second, she sees him stiffen and wince. But Coriolanus quickly recovers and says, "Of course, Alma, I love you too."
But for the first time, she notices how stilted his voice is. How hollow and fake it sounds. She'd thought that after the Gideon incident, she had gotten smarter and less easy to swindle, but now she is starting to have her doubts. And she remembers, how fast Coriolanus rose to power, incidents of opponents suddenly dying, how Coriolanus always refuses to speak of his family or past, and the scent—the funny scent on his breath.
She puts the ring back.
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She begins researching. With her father's power and money, it's not too hard to find information if she looks for it. Behind Coriolanus's and her father's backs, she looks for concrete evidence, documents and eyewitness accounts, secrets and the darkest things. And the more she digs, the scarier it is.
Rumors of poison. Murders. Deaths. She learns of how Coriolanus killed his own sister, Gloria Snow, when it seemed like Gloria was getting too powerful. She doesn't want to believe it, but she remembers how it was only a few years ago when everyone thought that Gloria Snow as going to be the next President. And how fishy her sudden death, blamed on a heart attack, seemed. How could she have been so blind?
But she still refuses to believe it. Refuses to believe that her heart could have made the same mistake twice. Refuses to believe that charming, steady, wonderful Coriolanus that she loves and her father loves, is playing her for a fool.
It eats her up for a while. In fact, it's impacting her so much that even her father is starting to get worried.
"Are you okay, Alma?" he asks. "You haven't been eating right nowadays. Are you having troubles with Coriolanus or anything?"
She shakes her head because after all half of it is rumors, and it can't possibly be true. Can't possibly.
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Finally she decides there's only one thing to do. She'll have to confront Coriolanus. If it's not true, then she'll propose on the spot, and they'll live happily together. If it is true then—
No. It can't possibly be true. In fairy tales it's never like this. And he's what's keeping her believing, anyways.
She prints out a few documents and arranges a rendezvous via note with Coriolanus on the rooftop terrace. It's a bright summer day, and as she waits for Coriolanus to appear, she looks out at the lovely view and takes a deep breath.
"Hello, princess," says Coriolanus when he appears. It's what he always calls her: princess, and when he says it, she believes it. She turns around, and he looks impeccable in his well-tailored gray business suit. The epitome of charming. But she can't let herself be charmed today. She has to confront him and find out what's really happening.
"Explain yourself," she says, impressed with how firm her voice comes out sounding. And then she holds up the accusatory documents, fully expecting a good explanation that confirm her good opinions of him and get the load off her heart. After all, politicians always have to deal with lies, don't they?
But to her surprise, Coriolanus laughs, a coldhearted, cruel laugh that sends shivers up her spine. And she smells that scent under the roses again.
"Finally realized, didn't you, my dear Alma," practically spitting out her name.
"W-what do you mean?" she asks, all the strength and firmness out of her voice. She pales, and her worst nightmares are confirmed. "I-it's true?"
The coldhearted laugh again. "One hundred percent."
"I-you-you can't get away with this!" she shrieks.
"But, my dear Alma, I already have," he says. "And now that I'm President, I don't need you or your silly father anymore. Didn't you know how disposable you were? I'm the President. I own Panem. And you won't ever be able to stop me. I'm much more intelligent and powerful than you."
She runs away, away from the terrace, downstairs to the comfort of her father's room. Her father will know what to do. He always does. But somehow, as she opens the door, she smells it again, and she knows that something is terribly, terribly, terribly wrong.
Her father is dead.
Poisoned, like Gloria Snow and all the rest of them.
She hears Coriolanus laugh behind her. "To keep you in your place," he cackles. "You tell, and you too will suffer his fate."
She whimpers. This man is a monster. A demon. And her father lies in front of her dead, her dear and wonderful father, the one that raised her, the one she could trust and depend on all her life, dead.
"Oh, poor Alma. You thought you were so smart, with your documents and everything. But I know your type. Easy to fool, with your silly fairy tale dreams. Well, I'll tell you now, I don't need you or your father anymore. And I'm quite sick of pretending to love you. Because, Alma, I never loved you."
"W-what do you want?" she gets out. And although it shouldn't be, her heart being pulverized into hundreds of tiny little pieces, for as much of a demon this man is, she loves him still. And her father is dead, and Coriolanus never loved her, and her life is over. It hurts. Even more than her world collapsing like it did when Gideon left; it's her world being demolished, disintegrated, and it hurts. It hurts so much.
And Coriolanus only laughs. And now when he laughs, she can clearly smell the blood on his breath. The blood.
She runs.
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Alma doesn't believe in fairy tales anymore.
She empties her savings account and she runs—to District Thirteen, where she can put everything behind her and forget. Coriolanus told her it didn't exist, but of course it does. Once was enough, and twice was brutal, but a third time is not going to happen. And so she begins her new life without a fairy tale heart. And she swears that one day, she is going to overthrow Coriolanus Snow.
No matter the cost.
Thus began President Coin's reign of power.
Companion fic to Poison, although not necessary to read that to read this. In the Poison timeline, Snow would be meeting Coin a few weeks after the Sera incident.
Dedicated to Nona. Merry Christmas! I admit it, you win. But you see, I have not completely given in because this is one-sided Snow/Coin. Also written for Starvation's December prompt: hearts.