Wishful- a Powerless fanfic novella

Chapter 4 Part 1: Blair

My padded feet thump softly against the crimson carpet.

I've got to head to the kitchen.

I've got to. Plagues, I'd probably punch the intricate walls of the palace hard enough to make every man shiver if I didn't. The curiosity clouding my typical bitchiness threatens to tear at the seams of my training attire as I consider the implicit clues he has unwillingly given me.

Firm biceps, surely used for lifting up heavy equipment and rolling dough in the kitchen. A slightly clumsy and shy personality, clearly depicted on his unruly food-splattered apron and the constant introverted dips of his head. I bet all the maids swoon over his charcoal hair, paired with those deep, understanding eyes.

Those eyes, that reflect all the pain and sorrow and regret in the world, snug and tight.

I wonder how all those emotions stole a place in his head, marking their spot. I wonder how he ended up in a place as cold as my very own being. Though I suppose I'm not feeling cold anymore, not freezing at least. It's a strange feeling, unique to me. The fact that this boy could spark such a thing in me makes my legs speed up just an inch faster, although by now I'm practically drowning in anticipation. I need to see him.

I. Need. To. See-

A huff of breath escapes me as my body slams against another. I look up in anger. Always anger that I feed into. It's easier to stand up then to walk away first. And what I see makes me even angrier than I were before.

My father looms over me, glaring as if it wasn't partially his fault for running into me. I feel a rush of emotions course through me, accompanying the anger, feeding the fire. My hands ball into fists in frustration.

"What the hell was that?" I snap at the General of Ilya. Pale blue eyes blink back at me, and then narrow.

"Plagues, why run so quickly, my sweet?" My sweet, the ass. "In fact, you should have already been at training since...." He glances at his polished wristwatch. "Ten minutes ago".

Fuck. I got so carried away with my antics around the study that I had completely forgot about my extra required time training hard for the upcoming trials. Although it has not been confirmed that I will even be in them, my father is almost certain that I will be, I'm almost certain that I will be.

I would love to stay and tease the General, yet I really need to go. It physically pains me to not bite back at him as I manoeuvre around his side, but the less practice on my training the worse I become. Learnt that lesson a long time ago from daddy dearest himself.

With that thought consuming the various others, as I reach the courtyard doors I push hard against them, the door creaking open to announce my presence to the people inside. I slowly make my way over to Sadie, daughter of an advisor to the King, on the opposite side of the yard, a nod in her direction as I pick up my pace.

"Hi" she says tentatively as I approach. I'm not the nicest person to be around. I know that.

I don't dignify this with a response. Instead, I motion for her to follow me into one of the many fighting rings scattered around. Then, I turn to her.

"Fight with me, won't you?" I smirk. I know how much Sadie despises fighting, and yet I'm forcing her to do it, so she must. I wonder how she is feeling right now.

Utterly powerless, I bet.

She sighs in resignation and follows me into the ring as I step into it. We pace around each other, eyes tracing the opposition, waiting for the first person to strike. Sadie knows it's always me.

"Maybe we should spar instead" She states quietly before any damage can be delt, her shyness pitiful among the many years that I've known her. I'll give her one small flicker of hope, then. Not enough to light a fire.

"Fine" I snort, maybe louder than necessary. I stride over to a nearby trolley and collect two, sharp swords, throwing one at her to catch.

"Ow!" She squeaks but doesn't dare say anymore. We circle around each other yet again, me disposing of my shoes, laying them against the fence of the ring.

This game is for the light-footed, however hard my heart may be.

I take a lazy jab at her with my sword, and she dodges it easily. Sadie, I found out a long time ago, is much more skilled than she appears to be. A shame she doesn't show off her power more often, but it's not my problem.

My lilac hair fans around my face in the light breeze, and I curse myself for not tying it up before I started the fight. Too late now. My feet copy an intricate footwork number I've had memorised for years, usually perfect for confusing whoever my opposition happens to be-

And then I see the Sadies.

And by Sadies, I mean at least 7 replicas of her, now surrounding me in a tight-knit circle. She doesn't smile, but I can see in her hazelnut eyes the obvious satisfaction at shutting me in. Shutting me down, she wishes.

I huff out a strangled laugh. Straining my mental ability to its limits, I pick up a copy of her and toss a Sadie across the ring, only to have yet another Sadie jump onto my back, tackling me to the ground. A mouthful of dirt sticks to my clear lip gloss as I tumble, and I grind my teeth together in frustration as I struggle to wipe it off.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spy three boys watching the fight. Plagues, it's Kai and Kitt Azer, along with that pathetic fool Jax who I don't care for a single bit. But the Azer brothers.... they love a good fight. I can sense Kitt's intense eyes boring into me from here. I sigh dramatically. Well, if Sadie insists, bring on the finale of this game.

I sprint around the circle, faster and faster each turn. The copies of Sadie swivel their heads around quickly, though not as quick as my punch to every one of their stomachs, swift and technical. With a slight oomph they fall to the ground, their cheeks powdered by the moist dirt, dampened by sweat. I stand in the midst of them, a victorious smirk making its way across my face. I step out of the ring, Sadie removing the copies as I do so, lingering behind me in defeat. Making my way over to the boys, I come in close.

Suffocating them. Pressuring them. How else do I create such an alluring presence, being who I am?

"Boys" I tip my head, acknowledging their presence before they even think to do the same for me. The bastards.

Kitt slings an arm around Jax's shoulder before nodding at me and Sadie, who by now has most definitely put on a warm smile as she stands behind me, likely looking all put together, the usual.

"Blair. Sadie" Kitt says with none of the usual humour that clings to his warm breath and drifts along his defined muscles.

A small voice pipes up behind me. Sadie's voice. "I wanted to congratulate you two on making it into the Trials".

That motherfucker. Plagues. Plagues.

All breath is sucked from me, heart pounding. A shiver runs through me, rattling my bones. I hear distant voices, but I can't make out what they are saying.

My fall, my demise, may come sooner than I expected.

I certainly did not expect this....