Note: I wrote this in the heat of the moment and I have no beta for GG works. If you are a BC shipper or a Blair fan you may not like this story. Read at your own risk.

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.

[Shakespeare, sonnet 30]

#

They said once you found the perfect dress, all the rest comes easily.

She had always had a taste for perfection and she was showing it to the world through her work as feared and revered fashion authority, through her impeccable image on the pages of glossy magazines, through her grand wedding which was the event of the year.

The letterpress wedding invitations (in pearl white shimmer paper made in Italy, which added a lustrous look to it), said:

Mr and Mr Harold Waldorf

Mr and Mrs Cyrus Solomon Rose

request the honor of your presence
at the marriage of their daughter
Blair Cornelia Paige Waldorf

To

Charles Bartholomew Bass

Thursday, the Fourteen of February

Two Thousand and Thirteen

at twelve o'clock in the afternoon

Cathedral of St. John the Divine

Amsterdam Avenue in Morningside Heights

Reception to follow

It was just so romantic to get married on Valentine's day, because from now on they were going to be the public epitome of romance, the lovers everyone would look up to.

Twenty-two chefs took care of the five hundred guests menù was a delicious journey in the highest examples of culinary art: from the Gressingham duck to the foie gras; from the gazpacho to the spaghetti al granchio; ending with an ornatefour-tiered cake iced in white and gold-colored fondant, decorated withbraided and beaded piping.

All was weakened by rivers of french champagne and italian wine.

To the reception people had danced to the music of a string quartet, which decided the trend for the year.

Blair wore a Christina Wu dress, and she was unanimously labeled as the most beautiful bride of the last century. Vogue had printed a five page article about her, describing her as a radiant union of beauty and elegance that bears on her forehead the mark of her superiority which shines as much as her tiara, and that obscured the star of the most beloved Princess D. herself.

Blair brought a copy for all her friends (Serena and Nate), her parents (all four of them), and Dorota; and ordered Penelope to buy one for anyone she knew.

The cover which displayed her in her wedding dress during a professional photo-shoot ended up being enlarged, framed and hanged up on the wall of the master bedroom.

Blair was looking forward to waking up next to Chuck every remaining day, and open her eyes to look at herself and bathe in the perfection that her life was going to be - forever.

#

She woke up alone most of the time, but her picture on the wall was still untouched by routine and everyday problems (dining alone when Chuck was late for work, the silk sheets stained with the scotch that leaked from the bottle Chuck brought to bed when he was stressed, the pecks on the cheek and the my love as universal answer to any problem she got and he did not feel like listening to) and so she could still be satisfied.

Every married couples had problems and they had to spend time and energy to overcome them. They had used all their energy way before the wedding and they had no need to now, because they were Mr and Mrs Chuck Bass and this was the answer to any issue and the reason behind anything that lead them where they were, and others couldn't understand because no one shared what they shared.

The greatness of a love that pulls you in despite common reason and conventions and useless moralisms.

When she felt alone because her husband was busy she made reservations for a day at the spa, so she spent hours cocooned among flickering candles and healing aromas of mystical lands and she got facials to be soothed and renewed (Chuck always told her it did good to their relationship that she took care of herself with such dedication, and she thought so too). She flashed her gold credit card and got pampered and loved, because she was Mrs Bass and she was a powerful woman, and deserved only the best.

She had quite a bit of free time because the empire she inherited from her mother almost runned itself, and by the end of the fashion weeks she only needed to check papers and keep tracks on the productions, so she managed to have under control every bill and every note of her house, with some help from Dorota.

When she had read the report of one of their credit cards indicating Chuck payed for medical treatments she cried her eyes out, connecting all the dots, because he had to be seriously sick and still he managed to be so attentive towards her and covered in new dresses and jewels like he was courting her again, despite his empire's demands.

Knowing it was her duty to help him through it she had went to the hospital to demand to know what illness he was affected from only to find out that the hospital was an Abortion Centre.

When she confronted him about it, he had explained her how he had to take care of a partner's problem. The man had got a woman pregnant (a girl eighteen years old to be in May, that was at her last year of High School - she had found out horning in on the Centre's records room) with whom he had a extramarital relationship and he had to clean up his mess. And how can you not believe me? He had asked her, so wounded, I love you so much! He had sworn, with that inflection in his voice which he had mastered through the years.

How could she? And what about that sweet vanilla smell lingering on his skin? What about his sudden consideration that coincidentally had bloomed during his partner's affair? And what about the girl's anxious voice calling out Chuck, is that you? when she called her with a private number just to know what her voice was like?

But I didn't mean to hurt you, Blair! He had swore again, and they had fought so much to finally be together, and then he promised it would have never happen again, and she always believed all his promises (and was always left to pick up the pieces, after he had broke them) and marriage is this too, isn't it? Maybe there was only for worse even if she is sure they had better at some point or else what reason did she have to say yes? And there was only for richer because for poorer would have killed their noble spirit, because people with their standards can't fall so low without losing their inner force; and sickness and heath is the difference between sober and drunk, and love and honor are decided by what's printed on the next issue. But all in all it was their marriage, their love, so all consuming, so unfathomable to anyone else that had been so miserable to never know what it meant to fall in it to be swallowed whole and stop existing if not for its sake.

They had kissed and made up and he had offered her a diamonds collier. «Stones as hard as my indestructible love for you, my dear.» so had said the card attached to the the velvet black box.

Dorota had not approved of any of it, because Dorota could not understand - she was a maid and even if she loved her dearly, Blair knew, to each their own.

Blair suspected Dorota was still blindly attached to Mr Dan, because every time she had cried he was what made her stop to, not what had lead her to. He never tried to make up for his absence (he was always there for her) with a minor surgery (he placed himself in front of the mirror, with his back to it, when she was trying to recompose herself and always told her she looked perfect to him). Dorota still thought that Dan was the only one that could ever make her happy.

But Dan Humphrey was no Chuck Bass (she was proud of him though, because he had become a famous writer, acclaimed from the critics and symbol of a new literary horizon - she had began to collect articles about him and had them all fixed into an album she kept in her private safe with her jewelry and his books) and there was no compare.

So she forgave him, because he was Chuck Bass and she was born to love him and him alone. She had trampled on her dignity, her young dreams and the men whom had loved her because she was destined to him, To this. Her going back on the pill behind his back, him thrusting into her body, sweating and swearing on what was most sacred to him that he would never do that again.

In fact, he never paid for an abortion with the credit card, again.

#

She picked him out from a catalogue titled The Dream Experience. The Agency she had turned too was very discreet and provided an high quality service; she was sure because she knew Chuck had turned to them quite often. Considering he had a taste for S&M she was sure he had never tried out TDE one and only stuck to the Bound Love catalogue, but she trusted they were professionals that could do their job.

All the look-alike were listed alphabetically so she wasted no time - she had been waiting months for them to employ someone in that role, because she could not make herself be interested enough in anyone else.

When she opened the door and he introduced himself with a full smile and his name (Thomas Johnson, nice to meet-) she had slammed the door in his face. If she had to pay two thousand dollars for one night she wanted it to be damn convincing.

That night she wasted herself with Chuck's favorite malt whisky (the Macallan Lalique, a fifty years old limited edition that came out in a crystal decanter; so very classy), because she was only used to the best and they better gave it to her next time. She still wanted her dream; even when she woke up every day inside the parody of her naive hope.

Dorota still tried to push her to be her better self, and Serena called her from her movie's locations to try and talk some sense into her, but she could not do much when they were in the same city so it was not like an ocean between them did not make it easier to ignore her, and she was not eager to be near and risk to be hurled down into her self-destructive spiral (that's how they dramatically called it, but for Blair it was her life, and she had managed it pretty well, hadn't she?).

Nate could only be a sad spectator of her blue parade, and Chuck loved her (the way he loved her, the way she had always been sure she wanted to be loved, with the diamonds collier - she had four of them now - and big promises and a few bruises here and there) so he let her do whatever she wanted.

And she wanted her dream.

She called the Agency again two months later.

When she had opened the door that night, dressed in sexy lingerie, she had found him on her doorstep. Light smile, dark eyes, sensual mouth and that husky voice that made her shiver shamelessly. She had welcomed him into her house (Mr and Mrs Chuck Bass's house - a palace of three floors and fifty-four rooms) and between her legs. Many times; and if it felt painful she had just to grit her teeth, because she knew pain and this was nothing.

Most women were never eager to be fucked from behind because it made them feel diminished (she was Mrs Bass - being diminished was part of the deal) but that was Blair's favorite position with him, because otherwise there was the serious possibility that during his orgasm he would hide his face in the crook of her neck and she wanted to see him. She needed to see him.

His face twisting in pleasure, so different from the impersonal poses on the back of his books (which she often got off to) which never, ever mentioned anything of her or their time together (no witty brunette, no rich snob, no running bride, no movie night, no safe island in the middle of a Brooklyn's loft). His dark curls that now were just so endearing, and that moved slightly against his strong forehead every-time he thrusted into her.

The sounds they made, even the rhythmical bumping of the headboard against the wall, dug a hole into the walls of her own soul. It was like she was about to break free any moment.

And she could look at him in the mirror while he fucked her, could feel his hands on her hips, hear the slapping of flesh against flesh during their frantic motion. And moan his name (oh Dan, yes-God, yes) and hear his voice, groaning hers (like this, Blair) and it was just so him to make sure she liked it. Because he cared, and he loved and she loved him too even when she didn't.

(fuck me again, she had begged stroking his cock while they were lying down on the manor bed, I missed you so much, she had confessed him with eyes made bigger by the tears that she never let fall anymore; and he did)

This Dan had did his homeworks well (he knew things or maybe just had been lucky) and left before she woke up in the morning, just like every dream did (and every dream she ever had was about him, even those she had when she was a little girl and all she wanted was Nate) and when she opened her eyes she met, with a pang of disgust, the smile of a girl that thought she knew perfection and that the common notion of happiness was for lower classes.

She felt a retch building up in her throat and closed her eyes tight, breathing in slowly to stop herself from vomiting.

Blair just wanted to sleep and rest. At least, until her next appointment with the Agency's man.

Two thousand dollars was a small price to have her dream coming true (he was so in character, and so good that she had called him Cabbage Patch and had felt her heart burst with love and happiness) and she deserved only the best.

She was Mrs Chuck Bass, after all, and she had found out that forever could be such a long time.

[But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.]