Loveless/ a POWERLESS fanfiction story

Chapter 23: Brian

We remain near the lake. On the far shore, the night appears even darker, a stark reminder of how risky it was to choose this place to camp. I sit by the fire, my palms outstretched toward its warmth, watching as the flames devour the last of the dry branches. My shirt, draped over a nearby branch, shows no signs of drying. Not that it matters-I feel the cold not just on my skin but deep within, lodged somewhere between my thoughts and the memories that refuse to let go.

Across from me, Blair sits wrapped in my jacket, but the space between us feels vast, stretching with the weight of unspoken words. She hasn't told me what was in that letter, and I haven't asked. Still, I know something is wrong. Perhaps her father has been informed she's only secured two straps and is expressing his disappointment. Or perhaps...

"Brian," her voice cuts through the crackling fire like a blade. "How did you end up in the palace?"

I slowly drag my gaze from the flames, as if pulling myself from the haze of distant thoughts. Her question hangs in the air, silencing the whisper of the wind and the shadows dancing in the trees.

"The palace?" I echo, my voice sharper than I intended. A bitter smile tugs at my lips as I meet her gaze. "I tagged along with some guards patrolling the Loot. Did a few odd jobs for them until one of them decided to take me in."

"And that's it?" she asks, raising an incredulous eyebrow.

"Yes," I lie. Because the truth is, I was-and still am-a terrible person.

For a moment, she's silent. I inhale deeply, letting the breath seep through my clenched teeth, and finally, I can't resist throwing the question back.

"And you?"

Her amber eyes hold mine from across the fire, her sharp features flickering with shadows cast by the flames.

"I was just the general's daughter," she says distantly.

And that's true, but that's also what's my pain point. She was born into a family that never had to starve. I bite the inside of my cheek, knowing that she herself gives me a reason to hate her. Now I will ask my question, and all my ambiguous thoughts about her will disappear. I know this, that's why I say:

"So," I ask, my voice colder than before, "what's it like being the general's daughter?"

She grins, but the answer lingers on her lips longer than usual.

"It means responsibility," she says at last, her tone tinged with bitterness. "Always being perfect. Never doubting orders. Never failing. And always knowing you can't afford to lose."

Her words strike heavier than expected, the bitterness in them resonating in the stillness around us. Even the forest seems to hold its breath.

"Did you receive some kind of... order?" I ask cautiously, my voice low. "I noticed that after that letter you..."

She scoffs, cutting me off with an acid tone. "What's it like being an Imperial?"

I hesitate, trying to gauge what she wants to hear and how to turn the conversation in the right direction. Finally, I answer with a touch of humor:

"Difficult. Occasionally dangerous. Frequently annoying."

"And orders?" she presses.

I frown. Suddenly a chill of dread runs down my spine-what if the Resistance decided to do something while I was in the forest, and now I'm facing execution as a member. I'm only half a member of the Resistance, but who cares if the General wants to get rid of me.

"I will carry out any order," I say evenly, repeating the same words I told her father a few weeks ago.

"What about orders to kill?" Her tone becomes ominous.