Loveless/ a POWERLESS fanfiction story

Chapter 51: Blair

Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes some things are meant to be

I watch as Paedyn circles Kitt on the training grounds.

Once, it might have stung that the prince chose her over me. But now, I couldn't care less about it. What unsettles me is that my own Imperial seems to have chosen my own handmaid over me. And the more I think about it, the more that familiar, restless itch creeps up my wrists.

I stretch my muscles before training, spiraling through the same anxious thoughts, when a familiar voice calls out:

"Hey, want to spar?"

I turn to see Marcus grinning at me. He winks and adds,
"Or am I not good enough for you anymore, Blair?"

I know him well thats why recognize the teasing for what it is. We've been sparring for what—five, six years?

"You're still clumsy enough for me," I snort, but I step toward him anyway.

Marcus smirks. He's a Brawny, and now it's clearer than ever how pointless our old training sessions were. Rem must have thought all I needed was the ability to throw things with pinpoint accuracy. Plague take him—how wrong he was.

"Haven't seen you in a while," I say, tilting my head as if assessing him. "You look... broader."

Marcus nudges my shoulder lightly.
"Can't say the same for you. You're so skinny, soon there'll be nothing left of you, Blair," he says casually, but then his expression stiffens. He clamps a hand over his mouth and mutters, "Sorry. I—"

Something tightens in my chest, but I force my spine straight.

"Don't worry about it," I say dismissively, waving him off. Because I can't talk about it. I can't think about it. Not now. "Mary's been bringing me the healthiest breakfasts imaginable again."

I pull a face, and Marcus gives a strained chuckle. The tension eases slightly, so I press forward.

"So, what about that spar?"

Marcus grins and nods toward the empty weapons rack.
"Looks like your arsenal's already been picked clean."

I frown. I spent most of my life proving that I was my power. And now, it bothers me how little anyone takes me seriously without it. The truth is, I always hid behind my strength—relying on objects I could reach, things I could control in ways Marcus never could.

I think of my training with Brian. I think of the first time I ever felt truly strong, wielding only a dagger and the fury burning inside me.

And I realize—right now, I have enough rage to finally take Marcus down with my bare hands.

I remember how safe I once felt around Brian. And that enrages me. Because I let myself feel something for him. Because I let myself need him? A Guard assigned to me by my father. A man who answers only to him. Who has earned even a sliver of his trust.

I exhale sharply and step toward Marcus.

"I'll manage without an arsenal."

He blinks in surprise.

"Well... alright," he concedes, a little uncertain. Then he shrugs and quickly settles into a fighting stance.

"Just don't complain later," he adds, giving me a once-over, "when I break your arm."

I suppress a flicker of irritation.

"Don't count on it," I smirk and take the first step, closing the distance.