Disclaimer: If I owned GG, then Dan x Blair (I can't even bring myself to type the "pairing", which should be totally non-existent, btw.) ... What? What the heck is Dan x Blair? Also, I don't own 'The Devil and His Queen', which belongs to the amazing JuseaPeterson.
Warning/s: AU. Typos. Grammar.
Summary: He's the King of the Underworld; he gets what he wants. So he shouldn't have to deal with the two opposing forces he gets whenever he's around her. Not to mention that annoying, fluttering feeling in his stomach just thinking about her.
Note: This really won't make sense if you haven't read The Devil and His Queen by JuseaPeterson because this is an 'alternative' chapter to TDHQ's chapter 20. So go on and read that story first then when you reach c20, read that first or come back here.
As Eleanor walked up the marble stairs to the summit of Mount Olympus, she stopped to take a look around her. From the high vantage point she was in, she surveyed the area and saw the beautiful scenery: the light glow of the sunshine, the fresh air, the plants, the trees, the rivers, the flowers—everything her daughter loved and everything that was currently missing from Earth. She huffed sharply and turned around, walking back up to the temple atop the mountain that resided the throne.
When she reached the top, she briskly but gracefully walked forward to the throne, a domineering air surrounding her as she did so.
"Nathaniel," Eleanor called with a straightforward but venomous tone as she walked towards the golden-haired king seated lazily atop the throne.
Nate, upon seeing Eleanor brisk walk to him, quickly fixed his posture and made himself presentable. "Eleanor!" he exclaimed in a surprised tone. He would try to be level headed and composed and above the situation as to not anger her even more. "You are here!"
"I take the chance that you are not serious when you mean that," Eleanor raised a brow as she took her seat on the seats before the throne on the left side before adding, "Especially with the stunt you've pulled with Charles with regards to my daughter. Nathaniel, considering the number of people who are dying—the number of followers you losing and have lost (Nate winced at this)—I trust that you know the current conditions of Earth: disastrous. Glacial. Barren. Almost incapable of being lived in."
"I know, Eleanor." Nate replied. "I knowhow much the people are suffering, all due to what you aredoing to the Earth: making it barren and dead when you are supposed to be keeping it abundant and alive. Eleanor, this has to stop."
"This is your fault!" Eleanor snapped, her eyes laced with anger and pure hatred, boring holes through his body. Keep calm, he'd told her but she easily ignored this. "And if you don't return my daughter to me from Charles, I shall make the conditions even worse—that everyoneon Earth may disappear and die! Lest you don't do anything to make Charles change his mind, I give you my word on what I am to do."
"If you haven't noticed, Eleanor," Nate snapped, forgetting to try to be above the situation and being patient. "It's Chuck, god of the—"
"You are the king of the gods, Nathaniel," she reminded harshly. "I do not care what you do—just doit!"
"And if I may remind you: I have no control over the Underworld, only Chuck does! He's not permitting any god in the Underworld—not even Eric, for everyone's sake—and he has shut himself in it, completely isolating him from the world. How am I supposed to negotiate with him whenIcan'teven talk to him?"
Before Eleanor could reply, a lazy voice from the seats before the throne on the right side drawled, "I see you're talking about me." Eleanor and Nate averted their gazes to the right side, only to see Chuck seated comfortably on one of the seats, a leg rested on his knee.
He didn't know why he had gone to Mount Olympus—to the throne of all places—but Blair had been giving him these feelings that were causing his emotions to shift erratically and impulsively: from anger to adoration, hatred to… well, he had no idea what damn thing inside of him was but he knew it was something, that he had to go somewhere away from her, somewhere not in the Underworld, to decide just what was wrong. And something inside of him had said that he'd find the answer to his questions in the throne.
"Chuck," Nate blinked. "You're really—"
"Charles," Eleanor seethed, her eyes glaring at him with wrath. She got up to walk to him, trying to keep her walk composed and cool despite her blood boiling with pure anger.
"Eleanor," Chuck replied calmly, eyeing her nearing figure. "Stay on the opposite seats. You're more likely to keep calm there."
"I will not allow this conversation apropos the kidnapping and abduction of my daughterto be a calm and collected one, as if it were merely a casual talk." She hissed, continuing to walk to him, but at a slower pace.
"Then it's either we have a calm and collected one," Chuck gave. "Or none at all." He stood up and positioned his fingers to a snap.
Eleanor stopped in her tracks, still glaring daggers at him, and threatened, "You'd betternot disappear, Charles, or else—"
"Or else what?" he taunted coolly. "Or else you'll continue to make the Earth so devoid of life that everyone will die? Fine by me; I would enjoy nothing more than more company in the Underworld for more to be damned. Lest you forget: I don't have worshippers because I don't needthe assurances of confidence you other gods so desperately need; so humans in general are useless to me unless they are dead,which you will be making them should you move even a fraction more from that spot; because if you do, you will never be able to contact me and see Blair again, enraging you all the more and leading to the extinction of all species andthe destruction of the Earth; which will deem you as 'useless', oh goddess of the Earth, and you will disappear as well, leaving me with, let us see: Blair."
"Not if I kill you first," Eleanor argued, her voice not as firm but still believable.
"You kill me? Please, before this, you did not even know how to hurt!" Chuck mocked. "Plus, were you to try kill me, I'll have you know that I'll kill you first. Let's face it, Eleanor: you have nothingto use against me. So I suggest you return to your seat and let's have this damned calm and collected conversation as to not make the things just mentioned true. Take your seat, Eleanor." He deadpanned with cold eyes.
Nate watched in awe as Eleanor twitched and begrudgingly took her original seat, obediently following Chuck silently because his statements were irrefutable—she had no chances of winning (or living) should she not follow. Nate then gulped, noticing how Chuck was able to have this 'calm' conversation with Eleanor whereas he couldn't, and silently thanked his luck that he wasn't against Chuck.
Eleanor had taken her seat and Nate coughed, "Now that that has finished, let us proceed with this conversation in an orderly manner."
"I want my daughter back." Eleanor stated on impulse. "That's all I ask."
"And what if she doesn't want to go back to you?" he rose.
"What kind of question is that?" she hissed.
"Think about it: she's already a grown adult; she can easily make her own decisions, her own path. She doesn't need you anymore." Chuck stated. "And, as far as my knowledge of her has gone, she wasn't exactly living up to the fullest of her goddess abilities with you; you were always sheltering her, protecting her, hiding her. She wasn't granted the freedom to do anything she pleased because you were always there to limit and restrict her—quite like trapping a bird in a cage, its potential never shown."
"And what about you? At least with me, Blair knows that I am shielding her from knowing things because I love her and I don't want her to experience the evils of the world—evils like you! Yes, she may be restricted but there are sacrifices that have to be given and that is one of them." Eleanor shot back. "You, on the other hand, are nothing but her captor—how dare you tell me any of that when she is but a prisoner to you! Mine was for love; yours was for selfishness! I bet everything I have that Blair has been wondering when I'd come, asking you if she could ever leave, because at least I know that although her freedom here was suppressed, at least she was happy unlike down there where in all obviousness she isn't!"
Chuck flinched a little but it was subtle so his image remained intact: outside, he was still calm, cool, and collected. Inside, however, was a different story. He was panicking and contradicting himself all over and over and over again because she was absolutely right: Blair had been wondering when her mother would come and she had been requesting to get out and although there were times that she looked happy—or was he just imagining things—he could see that clearly, she wasn't.
And the thought of her being unhappy stirred something inside of him; he didn't know what, but something pained himwhen he imagined her unhappy and so maybe he should let her go; but letting her go meant setting her free and that would mean that others would be able to make their move on her, to claim her, and something else inside of him abhorred even the thought of another man's hands laying even a fingeron Blair's perfection. And these two emotions—these two forces—were battling each other out so much (they were just so in par) that they were leaving Chuck in a spiral, a daze, like he was always in whenever he thought of Blair.
He shook his head lightly, trying to compose himself and trying to think of an answer until he prompted, "Eleanor," she raised her head, her gaze directly toward him. "If you want your disappearance to be delayed, I suggest you reduce the horrible conditions you are providing the Earth with."
Before she could ask anything, Chuck got up, snapped his fingers and disappeared out of their sight, leaving Nate wide-eyed and Eleanor's jaw dropped.
"E-Eleanor," Nate called, trying to comfort her. But Eleanor's tears and yelps wiped out his call as she crouched on the ground, her tears flowing down endlessly.
As Chuck absentmindedly manoeuvred the reigns, he stopped his chariot mid-air. He jumped off and landed safely on the ground. He waved his chariot off, the black horses immediately galloping away, as he decided to go to the place he had left Blair by walking; he needed time to think things through for his mind was but a conundrum, a plethora of mixed emotions and ideas, and it was all because of Blair.
He shifted uncomfortably as he trudged back; he was foreign to being in the dark of what he was feeling—of knowing things. It was puzzling as to how Blair had evoked these swirls of thoughts in him in the first place. Just what sort of power did she have on him…?
You are nothing but her captor—how dare you tell me any of that when she is but a prisoner to you!
Chuck twitched at this: Blair was not, in his eyes, a prisoner to him. She was intelligent, she was slick, she was cunning, she was just, she was a woman, no, a person actually worthy of his awe, his respect. But most of all, she was Blair—she was his queen.
But then again, he was reminded of the times when she'd say 'I'm nothing but a prisoner' and she'd remind him that although he'd say she was his queen, she'd rebut that it was all through force—there was no coercion or any form of acquiescing on her part.
And, taking in the fact that Blair didn't particularly like him, his heart sunk when he realised that although he deemed her as a goddess who was just so untouchable, unreachable (and precious, and glorified)—in her eyes, he would be nothing but somebody who had skidded her away from her mother: a captor.
Mine was for love; yours was for selfishness!
Love, he snarled menacingly, spitting at the mere thought and idea of it. Just what the hell was love, anyway? From what he'd gathered from the stories of those who came, love was either the transcendent and magical force that makes one so effortlessly give one's self or desires or anything up for the person he or she loves, like that of a mother to a child or a soldier to his country, or it could be that force that just shows the paragon, the epitomeof selfishness wherein one does anythingto be with the desired one, whether it be to steal, to hurt, to kill—anything.
And more often that not, it was usually the latter, thus the indisputable comparison of the number of people in Tartarus than the one in the Elysian Fields and the Asphodel Fields. Chuck scoffed at love; he heard that it was sort of an emotional thing, one that involved you constantly being in a dizzying and confusing yet extremely happy state. How confusing; he didn't love girls; all he did was bed them to get pleasure out of them—no more, no less. There was no emotional crisis in it whatsoever. He snorted; who wants love?
But then that lead him to questioning his actions: was it really for selfishness? He asked himself. Without an answer, he gritted his teeth in anger and annoyance: Eleanor was right yet again, seeing as he could not understand why he did not want to let Blair go; he was selfish: he did not want her to be with other men because he wanted her all for himself.
And that lead him to the third statement: At least she was happy unlike down there where in all obviousness, she isn't!
That annoyed the hell out of him. Chuck kicked the ground, causing dirt and dust to fly in all directions, as he tried to release his anger; because while here he was desperate to make her his, she just wanted to go home.
He was about to kick again when he remembered the first part. At least she was happy.
Happiness.
His anger evaporated and he stopped for a while, just continuing to absentmindedly walk to where Blair was.
[Happiness.]
What was happiness?
When he got to the spot he'd left her, Chuck blinked, noting that Blair wasn't there. Before he started panicking, he remembered that she couldn't have escaped—Charon was there, after all—and so she had to be somewhere near. That was when an idea sparked inside him as he ran to where he thought she would be, temporarily shoving his former thoughts to the side.
Happiness.
Blair watched the dead come and go as the judges delivered their verdicts. Elysium… Tartarus… Asphodel… Tartarus… Asphodel… How she loved listening to the life stories of the dead and how they would be ruled!
Along came a woman with dishevelled hair and an old, scraggy brown pashmina to cover herself. After hearing her story, Blair was firm that she should go to the Elysium Fields—she had done nothing but good her whole life and she deserved a life of happiness. The judges had passed on their verdict: she was to go to the Elysian Fields.
The woman, however, remained adamant and stayed. She introduced herself: "My name is Dora. My husband has already past and all I had left after him was my daughter. So when she said that she was to give birth, I decided to help her—the only thing I had left—by going to her and braving the raging cold and snowy storms that have been going on for months—a never-ending cold that has been making life on Earth almost non-existent. I almost didn't make it, considering that I had but my clothes and this shawl."
Dora then exhaled, "But there was a woman by the name of Elle who saved me from death. While she took care of me, she told me of her kidnapped daughter and how desperate she was to get her back. I rested for a while but when I woke up, she was nowhere to be found. I tried to find her but failed to; so I went to my daughter's but sadly, I did not make it."
She gave a sad smile, "Elle was a beautiful woman with such a kind and caring heart. I only wish that I could have helped her get her daughter back."
The judges then decided that she go to the Asphodel Fields for a while before going to the Elysium Fields. She thanked them promptly and walked away.
Blair, on the other hand, was frozen in her place. After hearing Dora's story, everything was starting to make sense as to how there was a massive increase in the number of deaths: her mother, 'Elle', was making the Earth unliveable because she was taken away from her! She sighed with melancholy when she realised that the deaths would continue should she still be away from her mother. But Chuck wasn't going to let her go, so how was she to…?
Her train of thought was interrupted when she heard an amused comment being whispered into her ear from the behind, "You didn't stay."
Blair felt a smile slowly make its way to her face. He's here! Her mind exclaimed. "I'm a queen, you don't get to order me around." She bit back haughtily, a smile playing on her lips.
"Yes, you are a queen," he agreed, snaking his arms around her waist to pull her body closer to his. He buried his face in her neck and whispered, "You're my queen." He started slowly planting light kisses on her neck.
Blair suppressed a moan—darn it, it felt so good being in his arms and having that being done to her by him—so to add to the atmosphere, she teased, "I don't belong to anyone."
"Is that so?" he asked with an amused tone as he pulled away from her, unwrapping his arms around her waist and his face retracting from her neck. Blair silently cursed herself for saying that because of the loss of contact but she then felt herself get spun so that she could be face him.
Chuck grinned as he spun her around. He was about to comment something about marking her but thought twice when he looked in her eyes; he winced at what he saw: sadness.
He gulped. "What's wrong, Blair?" he asked worriedly.
"I-It's nothing," she assured, looking away from him. "I just heard a sad story, that's all."
"You should not be so sad; it is the reality of life: happy endings are non-existent." he stated, looking at the vast scenery behind her. He slowly removed his hands from hers, unwinding his tangled fingers from the velvet of hers.
She looked up at him and pressed a hand against his cheek, slowly but softly caressing it. "Just because you don't believe in them doesn't mean they don't exist," she reasoned.
"They belong to those who deserve them; I, for one, am undeserving." He shrugged nonchalantly, as if stating an old fact. He shifted his gaze towards her, "There's bound to be more saddening stories. Would you like to go back ho—to the castle?"
"No," She blinked, realizing that he had corrected himself from saying 'home'. "But if you'd like to go back, I will just meet you there. I would still like to listen."
She knew that he was either going to stay with her or force her to come back with him but what he replied had taken her aback: "Then I will just meet you back in the castle. I have… some business to take care of." He turned around and started to walk away. "Please, see to it that you are careful when you return."
"I-I'll see to it," she stuttered, still shocked as she watched his retreating figure. It took her several minutes to gather herself from his actions.
He hadn't stayed and especially neither had he forced her to return to the castle with him. She was surprised at this thoughtful side of him—the one that had respected her decision to stay because she wanted to. Was he always like this?
And something had replied in Blair: yes, yes he was. He was understanding and he wasn't forceful: she knew he wanted her but whereas he had a million of opportunities to do so, he didn't—he held back, restrained himself. And even when he was so close that night, he respected her decision and ceased to continue. From what she had gotten before, Blair knew that he wasn't the type to be patient and to listen to the girl he was about to … do whatever they were going to do; but with her, he was; and something inside of her stirred—fluttered madly—at this, that maybe she was an exception. And she had no idea what the thing in her was, but it hurt and it was a dizzying feeling but at the same time it made her heart thump madly and her breath breathless. What exactly was going on with her?
She sighed; the feeling was making her nauseated. She looked at the judges for one last time before heading back to the castle.
Chuck was seated in one of the chairs in the middle room, staring blankly into space. He was nauseated as the two things inside of him battled against each other yet again that had come after he'd seen Blair's eyes.
You saw the sadness in her eyes.
But she's your queen!
She misses her mother.
She's beautiful; imagine others on that.
She was always forced.
One day, she'll learn to love this place.
Just let her go!
No, she's yours! She's rightfully yours—your wife!
And he was dizzy and he was tired: tired of not knowing, tired of feeling himself getting ripped apart, tired of seeing her sad.
He saw Blair walk in and take a seat across him. When he looked at her expression, his heart dropped: it was an expression that mirrored his own: tired, weary, nauseated.
She looked at him and when she saw that he was in an even more saddened state that she was in she quickly asked, "Chuck, are you—"
But he closed his eyes and exhaled sharply, disrupting her from continuing, and he got up to walk to her. He walked behind her and murmured into her ear, "Close your eyes," And he covered her eyes with his hands.
"What's the point of closing my eyes if you are to cover them with your hands anyway?" she bit back lightly.
He gave a small smile—as if she would see it. "So that you don't cheat," he told her. Leaning in, he kissed her neck lightly and whispered, "I'm going to give you something."
He watched her mouth quirk into an inquisitive smile and he felt her eyelashes flutter down, symbolising her closed eyes. Happiness.
He closed his as well and they vanished from the room.
Blair closed her eyes in anticipation, wondering what he had gotten her. She felt them move—she didn't know how he did it, but he could disappear into thin air and appear in another place—and although it was quite the startle, she knew she'd be safe because she was with him.
He slowly removed his hands from her eyes and, taking a step back from her, he murmured, "You can open your eyes now." She blinked and fluttered her eyes open, only to be greeted by a large bouquet of flowers in a vase, which was on the first floor of the castle, just in front of the entrance door. Her eyes sparkled in delight upon looking at them because they were her favourite flower. She gathered the bouquet in her arms and got them out of the vase, embracing them while she took in their fragrance. They smelled beautiful.
"Chuck, these are beautiful!" she exclaimed happily. "Thank you so—"
But quietly, she heard him whisper, "Here's your freedom." And suddenly, she felt his presence behind her disappear.
"Chuck?" she asked breathily, turning around, only to jump when she saw who was behind her. "E-Eric!"
Eric was behind her, just in front of the opened entrance doors. "Blair!" he exclaimed. "I came as soon as I could; Chuck called me here to take you back to Mount Olympus!"
Her eyes widened: Chuck was letting her go? And she knew she should have been happy—ecstatic, even—but instead, something inside of her had dropped and she realized that although she did want to go, she also didn't; she wanted both sides. In panic, she quickly saw the fruit bowl beside the vase and she got hold of a pomegranate, squeezing it tightly in her hand, nails digging into its flesh.
"What are you doing with that? We have to go, Blair!" Eric exclaimed exasperatedly as he yanked her, making the fruit fall down to the floor. The pomegranate's juices started flowing out from the holes Blair had created from her nails.
And she followed reluctantly but one flower had fallen down, falling on the fruit's juice. "Wait, the flower—" Eric had hurriedly picked the flower up and put it inside of her tunic's little pouch.
"There, now let's go before Chuck changes his mind!" He grabbed a hold of her hand and ran as fast as he could, dragging Blair along with him. They ran as fast as they could to the banks of River Styx where Charon was waiting for them. "Good; Charon's still there!"
The two then lunged inside the boat and Charon started rowing to the other side. Eric huffed, "Phew, we made it! Now Charon can't go back!" He sent a relieved grin at Blair before taking rest on one of the seats.
Blair, on the other hand, was panting, tightly crutching the flowers to her chest. She buried her head in them, taking in their wondrous fragrance, and when she had smelled even further, she smelled the scent of fine clothing and scents—she smelled him—and she sniffed, realizing that he had picked these flowers, not just commanding some servant to do it.
The boat had come to a stop, waking Eric up. He got up and jumped out of the boat and onto the banks of the Styx. He brought out a hand for Blair to take. Blair got up and walked past Charon.
"Goodbye, my queen," Charon bade, voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "His Majesty has requested me to give these to you." He handed her two scrolls, which she hugged tightly along with the flowers.
Blair, taking Eric's hand, looked back at Charon and although they didn't really interact, she realised that she was going to miss him. "Goodbye, Charon," she bade back sorrowfully, stepping out of the boat.
"Let's go," Eric said, taking her hand. She took her last look around; a wave of nostalgia had hit her and she knew she was never going to be the same ever again. A part of her was always going to be in here—here with him—and now that she was going, something that she had been wishing for, she was starting to feel a little empty.
The scenery around her then started to change as she felt herself get lifted up: from dark and black, she was suddenly up in the air, looking down at the entrance of the Underworld, which was now closing and shutting itself tightly for nobody to enter.
As Eric took her up to Mount Olympus, she subtly opened one of the scrolls. It was a formal document that stated, to get to the point, that Blair was not Chuck's wife, not the queen of the Underworld, that she was her own person, and that the only thing he'd done was kidnap her, nothing more, nothing less. She started to feel her eyes water.
When she read the other scroll she started to cry her heart out, realizing that she didn't even want to go.
And in that scroll, not a formal document whatsoever, contained but four words written in his own writing:
Because you deserve one.
Finally done. So this is my version of the great JuseaPeterson's The Devil and His Queen chapter 20 (_/_wOz7sv; just remove the underscores). If you haven't read it this amazing story, I suggest you should. I hope that this wasn't such an insult to JuseaPeterson's because I am so unpolished at writing.
Anyway, GG... What exactly do the authors think they're doing? After 5x15 [which I bawled my eyes out], I stopped watching and I don't really know what's happening but I see some snippets and read some summaries: and it just hurts my eyes. So painful. People say that Dan x Blair will ruin the show (yes, it has) but then there's this really good Dan x Blair defender that has shown statistics and a freaking graph to show that season 5 has the least decline in viewers, meaning that people are interested in Dan x Blair. Anyone who finds Dan x Blair preposterous and Chair fans, can you not watch the premiere of the episode? It'd be interesting to see those statistics drop to a jaw-dropping level-especially for the next episode, 5x18-which, according to Wikipedia, is when they... OH MY. EVEN MORE REASON NOT TO WATCH.
Back to the story, please share opinions and thoughts! This hasn't been proofread-yeah, I just started typing once I saw JuseaPeterson's 'go'-so if there're typos, please notify me. Thank you.