Loveless/ a POWERLESS fanfiction story

Chapter 11: Brian

The next day, the contestants of the Trials make their way to the Bowl Arena along a path strewn with pink petals. On either side of the route, which the Elites and their Imperials take, a noisy crowd of citizens has gathered. People shout, cheering for their participants, and I'm grateful that behind the white mask covering half my face, no one can see me roll my eyes.

All morning, I act as if I hadn't flirted with Blair during our nighttime training session. As we walked through the palace corridors, she remained almost silent, likely rehearsing her speech for the interview. Undoubtedly, Blair had wrote an excellent speech, but I was certain the Silver Savior would steal all the attention. All last week, Ilya buzzed with discussions about how a girl from the slums saved the strongest Elite in the country – Enforcer.

I wanted to give Blair some advice, but before I could find a reason to talk to her, she linked arms with Sadie and headed towards the two princes. Now, I just follow them, watching as Blair laughs at every unfunny joke. She so desperately wants to please them. Yes, I definitely need to teach her the subtleties of conversation.

Watching her try to gain the attention of at least one of the king's sons is almost comical. It stirs a strange mix of irritation and concern within me. Each time she laughs, it's like a jolt of electricity. I can't shake the feeling that she should be walking here, beside me, instead of making a fool of herself in front of other Elites from the palace.

I catch her gaze, but she quickly looks away, focusing on one of the princes. He says something, and she laughs again, lightly touching his shoulder. Every touch, every laugh cuts through my nerves like a sharp blade. I clench my fists, trying to maintain composure.

Suddenly, something flies out from the crowd towards the contestants. I immediately leap forward, covering the distance between Blair and me in two swift strides. I yank her arm back, and her back slams into my chest. I shield her with my body from the other contestants and their guards. Something lands on the other side of the road with a dull thud, echoing in my ears.

"What the Plague?" Blair squeals, trying to break free from my grip. I nod towards the pavement, where among the pink petals lies a smashed vegetable. It looks like a tomato. Its blood-red flesh, mixed with dirt, appears almost sinister. A true symbol of the hatred hidden beneath outward respect.

"I saved you from disgrace," I scoff, releasing her from my embrace but keeping my eyes on the tomato.

"Hardly," she hisses, her voice dripping with fury. "You showed everyone that I need your protection."

She is both right and wrong, and this stirs a wave of anger within me.

"Do you think red suits you? How would you have looked at the interview if you appeared before the audience in a stained dress?"

She examines her dark green, austere dress, which remains as flawless as it should be. Then she shifts her gaze to me, narrowing her eyes with icy disdain.

"Oh, don't worry, I would still have dazzled them all with my wit."

I press my lips together to keep from laughing. She huffs in annoyance and continues toward the arena, now at the end of the column because our argument caused us to fall behind the other participants. We walk in silence for a few minutes, but when she catches my sidelong glance, she asks:

"Something else?"

I sigh. "Maintaining eye contact demonstrates confidence," I say quietly, trying to keep my tone nonchalant. "A straight back and squared shoulders always make a good impression."

She scoffs, the sound like a pebble in a shoe, annoying and making me wince. Rolling her eyes, she seems to end the conversation, but I'm not backing down.