Loveless/ a POWERLESS fanfiction story

Chapter 44: Blair

What have you been doing to yourself

It's the last thing you should do

Dim light filters through the heavy curtains Mary had drawn open just minutes ago. The silence is broken only by the faint scrape of metal clasps and the soft rustle of fabric.

"Miss Archer, you need to get up," Mary's voice is firm. She stands beside me, embroidered gloves in hand, her gaze fixed on me.

I sit before the mirror, staring at my reflection. My hair is already swept into a tight, perfectly arranged bun, though a few strands have escaped, brushing against my cheeks.

"Why are you always so serious?" I ask, my eyes fixed on the mirror.

Mary smiles faintly. She's almost my age but seems older . Her expression holds no condescension, just patience and a faint shadow of weariness.

"Because you're always too careless when it comes to getting ready for a ball, Miss," she replies, her tone laced.

I return her smile, crooked and tired.

"Careless? Oh, Mary, you have no idea how much I wish I could be careless again."

She pauses for a moment before clearing her throat and sorting through the jewelry on the vanity table. Her fingers move confidently among chains and stones until she selects a delicate necklace with a green gem at its center.

"If I may say so," she begins, "you look..." She hesitates, searching for the right word before settling on the most neutral. "Dignified."

"Dignified?" I scoff, masking the tension that tightens my shoulders and quickens my heartbeat. "I should be enchanting."

Mary moves behind me, and I feel her breath near my shoulder as she fastens the necklace around my neck.

"You look as a general's daughter should, Miss Archer. And I have no doubt you'll surprise everyone tonight."

There's no flattery in her words, and I close my eyes for a moment, letting her words sink in.

"Mary," I say softly. "You don't particularly like this life, do you?"

She freezes briefly, her fingers still resting on the clasp of the necklace.

"Like it or not... it doesn't matter," she replies calmly. "But I know what I want."

In the mirror, I see her gaze linger. I turn to face her, and our eyes meet. Her expression is calm but resolute—the very trait I've always recognized and valued in her.

"Thank you, Mary," I say.

She nods and helps me stand. The green fabric of my dress shimmering softly in the dim light and feeling cold to the touch. It's far more elaborate than the one I wore to the last ball. I square my shoulders, striving to hold myself as my title demands.

"It's time," Mary says, stepping back to appraise my gown.

I nod, but my feet feel rooted to the floor. My hand slowly clenches into a fist, and a weight I can neither explain nor ignore spreads through my chest.

"Whatever happens tonight," I say, "you've done an excellent job."

Her eyes widen briefly in surprise before she composes herself and nods. I think she remembers what happened at the last ball. She remembers the chaos, the blood, and the cold gleam of weapons.

"Onward, Miss Archer. The ball and the prince await," she says firmly before adding in a lighter tone, "The garden is so beautifully decorated, I might сome in to see the celebration myself."