Loveless/ a POWERLESS fanfiction story

Chapter 39: Blair

I step into Mrs. Hope's room, and the first thing that catches my eye is the soft glow of a candle illuminating her figure, hunched slightly in her chair. She's holding her knitting, her thin, wrinkled fingers calmly pulling threads, creating something warm and homely—something that reminds me of a home I already haven't had in years. My heart aches as she looks up, surprise mingled with concern on her face.

"Oh, my dear," she begins, setting aside her knitting quickly, but I'm already rushing toward her, wrapping my arms around her and sinking to my knees beside the chair.

"Forgive me," I whisper, the weight in my throat almost unbearable. "Forgive me for not coming sooner."

"Oh, hush now, hush," she replies gently, her voice like a long-forgotten lullaby.

I bury my face in her dress, inhaling the faintly sweet scent of baking mixed with the subtle aroma of wild herbs—something delicate yet warm, like her hands that are now stroking my hair. I thought I had no tears left, but as her scent surrounds me and her voice soothes me, hot streaks roll down my cheeks.

"You've nothing to apologize for, Blair," she says, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. Her voice is soft but firm. "You've been through something very dark. I would have waited for you as long as it took."

I sob quietly as her fingers gently brush a stray lock of hair from my face.

"I'm scared," I confess, my voice barely audible. "Scared I won't make it. Scared this... will break me."

"You won't break," she replies with such unwavering certainty that, for a moment, I almost believe her. "You're stronger than you think. I've always known that."

Her words sound the whisper of the sea. I settle on the floor beside her chair and pull my knees to my chest, allowing her to continue stroking my hair.

"Sadie..." I start, but my voice quivers again.

"I know," she interrupts softly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "It's heavy, my girl. Loss always is."

"Sometimes it feels like all I do is ruin things," I admit.

"Don't say that, Blair," she admonishes. "None of this is your fault."

"I keep losing everyone I love."

"My darling..." Mrs. Hope's voice trembles as she exhales sharply, as though sharing my pain.

She murmurs soothing words, her voice weaving through my thoughts like an old song. I sit by her side, wrapped in her love and care—the kind I've been deprived of for a decade, ever since my father took me from our estate surrounded by fields. Memories surface unbidden: running toward a tall, beautiful woman whose face I can't quite recall and calling her "mum," my nanny scolding a dance instructor for making me cry; nanny's voice reading me bedtime stories. Someone sang me a song once—about shards and stars. Someone I loved deeply, who decided I wasn't worthy of love in return.

"Will you stay with me until the end?" I ask softly, meaning the end of the Trials.

"Always, my dear," she says, squeezing my hand.

I close my eyes, holding on to this moment. Because I know everything will change soon. But for now, I let myself believe her—just for a little while.