Thisbe Snow

The president is dead.

I sit inside my apartment and stare at my hologram in shock.

"The great President Snow died unexpectedly in his dining room after taking a sip of his wine. Current investigations suspect that a hostile force attempted, and succeeded at poisoning him. He will be greatly missed," An unusually solemn voice repeats.

Poisoned by a hostile force? Who made this up? No one but Snow has access to poison strong enough to kill a man with tolerance that high. The dementia must have gotten to him if he truly mixed the cups up. Unfortunately, his son is no better. Ricardo Snow is sheltered, spoiled, and has no subtly or charisma whatsoever.

All of a sudden, my phone rings. It's an unknown number. Against my instincts, I pick it up.

"Is this Thisbe Snow speaking?" A sharp, professional voice asks.

"Yes," I answer, somewhat hesitantly.

"Ma'am, please prepare a bag of your most important personal belongings. We need to get moving quickly. Clothes will be taken care of. A man will come pick you up in five minutes. Please be prepared to be sworn in as the next president of Panem"

The line goes dead. What just happened? The president of Panem? Is this some sort of a joke?

I sit in silence, until there is a sharp rap on my door. I open it, only to find a team of peacekeepers wearing the insignia of the president's personal protection team. This isn't a joke.

How am I supposed to be president? I have no political experience. What happened to every other person that was in line before me? It's an honor that I was picked, but I most certainly do not deserve this position.

The Peacekeepers surround me on all sides, and escort me to a black car. Is this what tributes feel like when they're reaped for the Hunger Games? As the car speeds away, I turn and glance back at my apartment one last time. These men could either be kidnappers, or they could be legitimate Peacekeepers, but either way, I have a feeling that I won't be back for a long time.

Outside, the streets are unusually quiet. By midday, most Capitolites are out and about. Today, everyone is in mourning. As I try to get my breathing under control, the car pulls up at an opulent mansion. An Avox opens the door.

"Ma'am, we understand that this is in short notice, but your inauguration ceremony is tonight. A dress will be tailored accordingly. Let me show you to your room," The same voice that was on the phone says. The Peacekeepers surround me yet again, escorting me into the mansion. Everything is a blur.

A suited, masked man holds out a copy of the Panemian constitution. My fingers shake as I rest my hand atop it.

"Do you, President Thisbe Snow, swear to uphold the law and order of Panem, to execute the duties required as president, to observe the Treaty of Treason, and to dedicate your life to the service of our great nation?"

"I do," He grabs me by the shoulder and turns me towards the crowd. All of a sudden, my arm is yanked into the air like a victor's would be. I am not a victor. I have won nothing of my own. Still, a sea of people below me cheer.

"We love you President Snow!" Someone screams from the crowd. Why do you love me? What have I done to deserve your love? A camera man cues me to bow. I do. My mind is blank and my heart is racing. The masked man puts a hand on my waist and guides me backstage. I can vaguely hear someone thanking the crowd for coming, but nothing is registering in my mind anymore.

I am the president of Panem. The thought hits me suddenly, but I have no time to process it. As soon as I enter my dressing room, people swarm in from all different directions. All of a sudden, my lipstick is being touched up and my hair is being re-done and someone is trying to cover the sweat stain on the back of my dress. Will the rest of my life be like this? I am not the late President Snow, who lived and died by poisoned cups. I have no cunning, no deviousness in my bones. Yet somehow, out of all the children and stepchildren and grandchildren he had, I was the chosen successor, despite being the grandchild stemming from a love affair he had as a twenty-something. I am barely a Snow.

Somehow, I find myself being escorted into a car. Ah, the afterparty. Another packed event, designed to show me off as the latest it-girl that I am nowhere near worthy of being. Each surface of the ballroom shimmers and shifts through the rainbow. Platters of food line the surface of every table. I weave through the crowd, with two undercover Peacekeepers trailing me, until I reach Cassian.

"Ah, there we are, how is the latest president of Panem doing on this fine day?" His tone is mocking.

"Please," I say. "I'm literally the same person that I was yesterday, except I have the title of President instead of Snow's bastard grand-child."

"Alright alright, whatever you say ma'am. Wouldn't want to upset you now that you can throw me in jail," He says, smirking. A part of my mind seriously considers his proposition. If he wasn't the Head Gamemaker, he wouldn't even be alive right now.

"Cassian, I'm too tired for your shits and giggles tonight."

"Wow, you seem so grateful for your position," He smirks, yet again. I kick him in the shins. Thank god for sharp high heels. Cassius is insufferable, but he's also my main source of entertainment.

A hand falls on my shoulder. I can't tell if my heart begins racing again, or if it just never calmed down from the swearing-in ceremony.

"A moment of your time, m'lady," A smooth voice whispers in my ear. Ricardo Snow. Son of the late president, and the rightful heir to my position. Out of all the mandatory conversations I was to have, this was one that I had hoped would not happen. How was I to justify the fact that I essentially stole his position? He guides me to a corner of the room.

"Congratulations, m'lady. It must be an honor to be able to serve as president," He says. This honor is one that I do not deserve.

"Thank you," I say. He looks at me with envy in his eyes. I can understand.

"Now, my dear, I have an idea. A…proposition, if you will. You see, I am very experienced in the ins and outs of the government. After all, I did spend my entire life observing things that are not visible to the public eye. You, on the other hand, do not. If you allow me to become an advisor of yours, I could be of great benefit," he says. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I may not be very smart, but his ulterior motives are crystal clear.

"I'll consider it," I say. He's intimidating enough that I don't have the bravery to reject him outright. God, I shouldn't be president. I can't even turn down one person. He guides me back into the party again, and all of a sudden I want to be there even less than I did before the conversation. My assistant passes a glass of champagne into my hands, and I down half the flut without question. The champagne could've been poisoned for all I know, but at this point even death seemed like a better alternative than whatever was going to happen.

Cassian gets up on stage, makes eye contact with me, and yells: "A toast! To our newest president!"

All of a sudden all eyes in the room are on me. I'm on autopilot yet again, nodding and smiling and thanking the room for their generosity. I just want to leave. The crowd goes back to their meaningless chatter almost immediately. Ah, the fickle attention of Capitolites. No wonder the late president got away with so much. Perhaps I could take a page or two from his book.

I move along the sides of the room, making my way to the side door where my car is parked. Let the Capitolites party until dawn. I have better things to do.

The president is dead, and I am his replacement.

A/N: Hi! This is my first SYOT, but I hope you guys like it! If this idea seems familiar, it's because this was originally KatLizPlz's idea. She's not on FF anymore, but she's very close to me and allowed me to use it for my SYOC. Form and information can be found on my profile. Thanks for reading!