Title: Blood and Butterfly Wings

Author: Syrianora

Rating: Mature

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

Pairings: Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

Summary: Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

Author's Note: First CB multi-chapter fic! This idea sort of floated into my head one boring day in class, and I've been actively working on it for the past couple of days. Remember, it's AU Chuck and Blair, but I will try to stay true to the characters who grace our tv screens. There will be some rewriting of history, but none too difficult that I believe will utterly confuse the common reader. I'm anxious to see its reception, so let me know what you think! As always, enjoy reading, and let the story begin :)

Chapter 1: Kohl-Lined Eyes

For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,

who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Charles Bartholomew Bass was a man who was not easily characterized by uneasiness. He was of a more calming demeanor, as dictated by his cool eyes and soothing walk, and he did not think of himself as being tender to nervousness. However, at that exact moment, his fingers were anxiously clutching the arm of his leather seat, and his normally restful gaze was quickly alternating between the oak doors before him and the moving hand of his Rolex.

3:15.

His fingers loosened their tight grip and swiftly ran over his blue silken tie, already certain that it was perfectly ironed that same morning. He crossed one leg, then the other, finally deciding to keep both feet firmly planted on the plush carpet below him.

He couldn't seem to ease his restlessness.

Finally, he took a deep breath, willing his pounding heart to still itself, and he tipped his head backward, chocolate eyes shutting in exhaustion. It had been a tiring day, and the endless documents he had read that afternoon were causing him to see visions of black letters beneath his lids. He sighed in fatigue, his perfect features quickly relaxing as he performed a rhythmic breathing session.

Bass Industries was situated in the thriving town of Paris, and Chuck was in charge of handling all foreign accounts that came in its direction. Mostly, he dealt with business coming from the United States, his advanced education in English aiding him to decipher the foreign language. He had lived in the states till he was ten years old, and promptly after his fifth grade graduation ceremony, his father and him had flown to the Parisian headquarters to handle business at the center of operations. Although he had spent most of his life in the Parisian culture, he would always consider himself an American.

He had promptly studied at the most prestigious English university in Italy, earning a degree in international relations, and had been immediately hired at his father's business. At age 27, he was currently the youngest head of an entire language department in a major business aggregate in Europe.

And the most sought-after bachelor in Paris.

He heard a throat clear; one eye opened and peered towards the oak doors, finding the two watchmen standing cautiously at its doors. One looked toward him and tipped his hat, to which Chuck nodded in acknowledgment, his head tipping back to return to his thoughts.

3:18.

The last and only time he had been in his father's office, the man had declared Chuck's overseeing of all American accounts a day after his college graduation.

And today, a few weeks following his twenty-seventh birthday, his father had called him to his office to discuss with him "a matter of dear importance".

Chuck sighed heavily. The relationship that he attempted to maintain with his father was a tricky one indeed; much of their conversation centered on Bass Industries. Yet, he was in clear anticipation of what was to come; being called to the office of the head of Bass Industries meant that Bart Bass had something important to say.

The last time he had been called in, the meeting had changed his life.

Chuck was certain this meeting would be no exception.

3:20.

"Mr. Bass? Your father will see you now."

Perfect timing.

Chuck quickly darted from his chair to the oak doors, straightening his suit and tie as the guards promptly opened the doors to allow him inside. His eyes quickly took in the office, noting its unchanging appearance since his first and only time of visit. The walls were framed with photos of Chuck's family ancestors who had brought the company to success. An American flag stood proudly by the mahogany desk. The company logo was proudly stamped upon the white wall behind the desk and above the large windows that allowed much light into the room. Chuck swiftly sat at the leather chair before the large desk.

And his eyes finally caught the smirking gaze of his father.

Bart Bass was a man who aged effortlessly, drank moderately, and smoked incessantly. He was part of a line of ancestors who had led Bass Industries into success, a feat dating many decades before Chuck's birth. Chuck had always admired his commandeering father, a figure who emitted supremacy, influence, as well as a keen desire to crush all minions before him. His eyes were a bright blue, and his hair was beginning to take on a more grayish tone. It did not make him appear older; rather, he emerged as a wiser and more astute character heading one of the most powerful industries in Europe.

"Welcome, Charles."

Chuck nodded, eyes kept with Bart's. Immediately after the light greeting, Javier, his father's right hand man, quickly strode to Chuck and offered him an antique box, showcasing a wide array of Cuban cigars. To be polite, Chuck thanked the man and pulled out a cigar, allowing Javier to light it and present it to Chuck. He inhaled the deep taste of the tobacco, finally releasing a puff of smoke that quickly clouded his vision.

"I heard about your handling of the Beamon account," Bart spoke clearly. "Very impressive."

Chuck willed himself to take on a more calming persona, and his tone rapidly followed his wishes. "Mere damage control, Father."

Bart simply nodded. His eyes stared at Chuck for a few moments, and Chuck felt the intensity of the conversation grow with each passing second. It was always difficult to be under Bart's watchful gaze: many men sprinted in the opposite direction whenever they encountered the power of Bart's gaze. However, Chuck was Bart's only heir, the only character who could return the look as promptly. So, he kept Bart's eyes, unwilling to show any sign of his weakness to his extremely scrutinizing father.

Suddenly, Bart lifted himself from his chair, striding to Chuck and handing him a glossed photograph.

"What do you think?"

Chuck's eyes landed on the photograph.

A stunning brunette stared back at him. Her chocolate curls were piled high on her head, a golden headband placed effortlessly atop her hair. One bare shoulder peeked out from a white peasant top, a golden necklace adorning her exposed neck. Her kohl-lined eyes were a deep chocolate, strong and proud against the light of the photographer, parted lips full and nude and certainly inviting.

He couldn't take his eyes off her.

After a few moments of fascination, his eyes lifted to the amused ones of his father's.

"What is this, Father?"

And for the first time in Chuck Bass's life, he saw a devilish grin form on his father's face.

"That, my son, is your next assignment." With a quick nod to Javier, golden amber was brought to Bart, who brought the glass upward in a salute.

"Vengeance."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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