A/N: The summary explains the premise of this fic. The first two or three chapters will be shorter and lighter, as they take place fairly early in S's life; the later ones will be heavier and perhaps a bit darker. The 'titles' of various chapters come from traditional and non-traditional wedding vows. Enjoy; please review.

Ever After

.one.

I ask you to share this world with me, together for all the days to come

The first time she gets married, she is five years old.

She's also the groom.

(Blair has to be the bride, so.)

She wears one of Harold Waldorf's old Armani suit jackets; it hit her at her knees and she has to roll the sleeves way, way up. Dorota tucks a bunch of bobby pins into Serena's long hair, pinning it all up in a bun at the nape of her neck.

Blair's in a pretty, lacy white dress. She gets Dorota to curl her brown hair for her, and set a tiara and veil into it. She even has long, white, silky gloves.

When Dorota leaves them alone to play, they sneak into Blair's parents' room and raid Eleanor's cosmetics. Serena helps Blair do her makeup, deep red lipstick and mascara that accidentally gets smeared under Blair's brown eyes when she blinks, but Serena spits on a tissue and manages to smudge most of that away.

"Beautiful," she declares grandly, spinning Blair around so that she can look in the mirror.

Serena examines there reflections and giggles a little at the way they look like complete opposites right now, her hair up and Blair's down, her way-too-big black jacket an obvious contrast to B's delicate white dress that fits her perfectly.

"'Kay, let's get married," she says, still giggling.

Blair nods solemnly. "This is important practice, S."

"But you won't get married for a long time. You have to be old. Like, twenty at least."

"It's never to early."

Serena narrows her eyes, plants her hands on her hips. "That's what your mom says about eye cream."

Blair stamps her foot. "S. You're my fiancé. You're supposed to do what makes me happy."

"It's only pretend."

"No, it's practice, for real."

"Who're you going to marry for real?"

Blair pats at her hair carefully. "Nate."

And Serena blinks, surprised. "Nate? Our Nate?"

Blair smiles at her, laughs a little. "What other Nate could I marry?"

She bites her bare lips, looks at Blair's bright red ones. "How come...how come you get Nate?" He's mine, too. At least half mine.

"Because. He's perfect."

"But why – "

"Don't worry. You'll marry someone, too," Blair promises. "We just haven't met him yet."

"But..."

Swallowing hard, Blair demands, "Do you want to marry Nate?"

Serena looks at her, at her clean white dress and her hopeful brown eyes, and thinks that yes, Blair is perfect. Blair's always been perfect the way Serena has never been, and if Nate is perfect too, if perfect is what they both want, then they should be perfect together.

"Marry Nate?" She licks her lips. Yes. He's my other best friend. Maybe. I love him. It's too early to tell. I shouldn't. She breathes out, does not say no, but manages, "Well, you want to marry him."

Blair smiles again, reaches for Serena's hand and holds on tight. "Yeah, so help me practice!"

They flicks the switches on fake candles in Blair's sitting room, arranging them on the mantle and the end tables, and then turn off the overhead light.

"Ambiance," Blair says.

"Ambi – what? You're not really going to get married in the dark."

"It's not dark, there are candles."

"Yeah, but you get married outside. In the sunshine."

"This is classier."

Serena squints, lips quirking up into half a smile as she stands right in front of Blair. "Did you make up that word?"

Reaching for Serena's other hand, Blair smiles a little too, confides: "Maybe."

They grip each other's fingers tightly, candlelight making their shadows flicker against the walls and on the floor.

"Do I have to pretend to be Nate?"

Blair laughs, her teeth showing as she grins. "No, you can be you."

"Okay. So...what do I say?"

They stumble through a messy version of traditional wedding vows; starting with Blair: "I take you to be my husband – "

"Hey!"

"Okay, wife, from this day to..."

"Infinity?"

"Okay, infinity."

Serena smiles and nods. "I take you, too."

"I take you for rich or for poor."

"And for good or bad."

"Better or worse," Blair insists, correcting her.

"Is that it?" Serena whispers, not wanting to interrupt the formalities.

"No, there's, um...I take you when you're sick, and when you're better."

Remembering a cousin's wedding she attended last year, Serena adds, "To hold!" She swings her hands and Blair's hands, still linked, to prove her point.

"To hold," Blair agrees, squeezing her fingers back. Her voice is somber and sweet all at once, a promise. Lastly, she intones, "Until death do us part."

"Til death do us part," Serena repeats.

They're silent for a moment, standing about a foot apart, still holding each other's hands.

Serena scrunches up her nose, breaks the silence with: "Do we kiss?"

Blair shrugs, looking confused for the first time during their play-date. "They do at real weddings."

"But this is...just pretend."

"Practice," Blair corrects her huffily.

"Well, do we kiss or not?" Serena demands, huffy in return.

Blair shifts her weight from foot to foot. "You're only supposed to kiss boys."

"Not true. You kiss the people you love."

Head tilted to one side, Blair's brown eyes skim over Serena's face. "And do you love me?"

She shrugs; the answer seems obvious. "You're my best friend in the world. Like my sister."

One of Blair's eyebrows arcs upward. "I am your sister."

Serena giggles. "Yes. Sorry."

And all of a sudden the haughty expression is gone, and Blair is staring at the floor, possibly right at Serena's bare feet. "I've never kissed anybody before," she says very quietly. "On the lips."

Serena licks her lips, inches a little closer to Blair. "Me neither."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"We're not old enough to kiss people."

With a roll of her eyes, Serena says, "We could try. Just for a second. Married people do it all the time."

Blair looks at her very seriously, and then all of a sudden she's leaning in and brushing her puckered lips against Serena's. It lasts barely a second and is so light Serena hardly feels it, but it's enough for some of Blair's lipstick to transfer onto Serena's lips.

She sighs, doesn't bother to wipe it away. "Can we watch Cinderella now?"

***

It's her longest-lasting marriage, this five-year-old pretend – practice – one with Blair on a Sunday afternoon in the late fall, surrounded by the flickering light of fake candles.

Those promises linger between them for their lifetimes, keep them tied to each other through the good and the bad and the ugly, through their biggest fights and their greatest moments, through leaving and coming back and staying. Their words define them: what is you is me. They're bound together – through every other marriages and friendships, through any and every curve-ball life throws at either of them; til death do them part.

They keep their vows forever.