Blair Waldorf in all her glory stood in front of the citizens of New York, smiling brightly after having just finished a speech. She told her subjects that under her reign, New York would become the greatest state America has ever seen. Camera lights flashed in her face but she still smiled and waved as the crowd cheered and applauded.

Only months ago the United States of America decided to make every state independent and abolish the federal government. Re-elections were held for the first monarchy of each state. The states were to be run like a sort of constitutional monarchy, though the king would be more than a figure head, more like a president with all powers of government.

Blair Waldorf had beaten out Charles Bass. His reputation lost him the election. She could feel him in the crowd, writhing in jealousy as he looked upon her glory. It lifted her spirits. She hated Chuck, and she was sure of it.

Serena, her best friend, had run away with Nate to be his queen. He won kingship of California, though he had never lived there. It suited them anyway, a stoner and an actress. She would miss them both dearly, but she had no time for nostalgia.

She got into her bullet proof limousine, paparazzi flashing pictures as secret service pushed them away. She felt like a movie star instead of a queen. She continued to smile and wave through the window until they were driving back to her new mansion in the Hamptons. City life was too dangerous, not that she wouldn't be in conferences there most of her time.

Blair gazed at her queendom as they drove down the Manhattan streets. She picked up the glass of champagne waiting for her and sipped in ecstasy and relaxed. On either side of her were secret service men. "I'm B- well you know who I am, how do you do?" She said imitating Audrey Hepburn, and giggling.

"Lovely, thank you your majesty. My name is Michael Grey.", said the blonde on her left. He was really attractive. He took her hand and kissed it. On her right was a dark haired middle-aged man. "Your majesty," he nodded, "My name is Karl Wymer." He also kissed her hand.

She was escorted into her mansion, which she had never seen before; it was way more stylish than the white house. A girl scurried up to her. "You're highness! My name is Jenny Humphrey, I am your secretary."

'I don't get to pick my own employees?' Blair thought to herself. This girl was cute and blonde and stylish, she would do. Blair waved her away and strutted around the house. Her two personal guards, Karl and Michael, and Jenny followed her like lost puppies.

"You're highness?" Jenny inquired timidly, "You have interviews scheduled for today with assistants."

Could she have no rest?

"Very well…I will meet with them in this room." She pointed to the quaint, gorgeously decorated sitting room. She loved it, it was as if someone had extracted the perfect house from her head and built it on an empty lot in the Hamptons.

Girl after girl after girl came for the interview; some of them knew her better than she did. One girl intrigued her though – she was like a mini Blair Waldorf. Her name was Charlotte Rose. Charlotte walked, talked, and dressed like a society girl, but she had a doctorate in political science from Princeton University. She was hired.

Blair took a sip from her champagne glass, and then downed it and ordered some person who was standing there watching to bring her another. "You have a visitor, you're majesty." A butler-ish looking man who came out of nowhere said to her.

"For fuck's sake." She whispered to herself. "Who is it!" She barked.

"A mister Charles Bass." He announced, "Shall I have him turned him away? He is still outside the gates."

"No, let him in, but wait for a few more minutes." She said sullenly.

Ten minutes later Chuck was announced at her door. He was wearing a black pinstripe Armani suit, white tie, and red Prada shirt, his outfit was plainer than usual. He smiled coyly. His perfectly sculpted chestnut hair matched his dark eyes. Blair's heart was melting at the sight, so she had to be cold.

"Did you come to congratulate me, or just stare?" She asked harshly, face unmoving, Blair's signature poker face.

"I came," he said pausing, Chuck's signature pause, "to tell you that this isn't over." He said and smiled. He moved a step closer and Michael and Karl did as well. Chuck regarded them with a head nod.

"OH, it's over." Blair said shortly and stood up. She smiled sweetly, "See Chuck, there will be no re-election… I will be queen until the people of New York no longer want me, and they definitely don't want you."

"I hope you're sure sweet-pea," and pause, "Because, a queen needs a king, after all."

"No…no, she doesn't. Even if I am to marry, he will not be king. And you shouldn't count on that being your ticket to the throne." She smiled.

Chuck began to caress her chin. "I'm going to have to ask you to remove your hand from the queen sir." Karl said loudly.

"Leave us, boys." Blair said. They hesitated, but left, surely standing at the other side of the French double doors listening for a sign.

"Blair." Chuck said softly, looking into her eyes.

"Chuck." Blair said tartly.

"I miss us." He said.

"I don't."

He backed away. "Remember my warning, love." He said and left her alone. She stared at the doors, and then crashed into the cream, Italian, antique couch.

Blair thought of all the great queens who preceded her. Marie Antoinette - beheaded, Cleopatra - an eternal lustful villainous figure, Anne Boleyn – an enemy of the Catholic Church, and so on and so on. Were there any queens people liked? Was Chuck right? Blair squashed the anti-feminist bug that Chuck had snuck into her brain. But for some odd reason Blair felt like a villain called Queen B, and Chuck was the real hero, Super Bass.