Loveless/ a POWERLESS fanfiction story

Chapter 1: Blair

The closet doors open.

Or rather, I open them. And, as always when I use my abilities, my head starts to ache. Today, the throbbing in my temples isn't strong enough to make me scream, but it's still unpleasant and exhausting.

The training suit falls onto the bed, and I finally release control. The tips of my fingers tremble slightly, and a pleasant warmth spreads down my spine. Relief — that's what I feel. As long as I can feel pain, I have power. Every time, I fear that moment will never come. That I'll just break and lose my telekinesis. I need to practice more, or I'll lose my mind during the Trials.

I pull on a tight white tank top and dark leather pants. The new boots are still chafing, so I have to wrap my feet with strips of cloth left by one of the royal Healers. Since he last healed my wounds, I've already managed to acquire new ones — a constant reminder that I can't afford to relax.

And my hands are scratched up again. This happens when I get nervous. Usually, I don't even notice the scratches on the inside of my forearms until someone points them out. Over the past few years, I've become more cautious and wear long-sleeved mesh sweaters over my tank top. They get hot, especially when training under the blazing sun, but they help me avoid questioning looks. Those looks that always make me feel vulnerable.

Sighing, I tie the laces on my boots and stand up. I'm ready or at least I'm trying to believe it.

When I leave my room, I try not to think about the throbbing pain in my head and what lies ahead. The training grounds are in another part of the palace, and on the way I meet many familiar faces. Although the servants and guards bow their heads before me, I don't give them a dignified look because I'm immersed in my thoughts and concerns.

Despite the fact that the trainings are held outdoors, the yard is always soaked with the smell of sweat, iron, blood and dust. This scent is familiar to me from childhood - it has always been around my father.

Walking along the gravel-lined circles, I casually glance at the half-empty weapon racks. There are so many Imperials and other Elites in the courtyard right now that I'll have to choose from what's left. It seems I shouldn't have been late.

My trainer Rem is already waiting. His eyes glisten in the morning sunlight, and I know today's training session will be tough. Rem has never shown me any leniency, even though my father was and still is his general. In part, I'm grateful to him: his approach has made me stronger.

" You're late", he says as I approach. His voice is calm, but I sense hidden tension in it.

"Sorry",  I reply. Anxiety churns inside me, but I try to focus. 

"We'll start with a warm-up", — Rem orders, nodding at the wooden blocks. "Then we'll move on to sparring". 

I nod and begin stretching, preparing my muscles and body for the upcoming training. The pain in my temples eases slightly, and I concentrate on my movements — it always helps me gather my thoughts. Then I start moving the wooden blocks with my ability. I even manage to build a small tower from them. However, with each new layer, the pain in my temples grows stronger. I grit my teeth and extend my hand. Visualization helps to formulate the thought more clearly and direct the power.

I place the last block on top of the tower and hear Rem's voice behind me:

"Almost", he should really shut up right now, but he continues, "I told you all you needed was some rest". 

I flinch and abruptly release my power. The block falls, destroying everything I managed to create. More precisely, it was my emotions that took over  and caused everything to collapse.Rem smiles with satisfaction and calls me to spar. My opponent is Marcus, one of the best fighters in the royal guard. He is tall and muscular, with quick reflexes and a strong punch. He is a Brawny, and a few years ago, I often lost to him, but those matches were the most significant for my training.