Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl.

AN: So this is my first fanfic in an extremely long time and it's my second GG fic. I really hope people like this one since my first one did not receive a big response. So please review, give me suggestions, opinions, criticize my writing if you must but only in a structured way. Well I hope you enjoy.


"Did you hear?" a girl asked her best friend in a hushed voice as Blair walked passed them. Blair's head was held high, she was a Waldorf...small set backs did not stop Waldorfs from being sure of themselves. However, as much as Blair on the outside appeared cool and collected, she was screaming on the inside.

"She isn't riding in her normal town car," another voice whispered.

Blair raised her nose at the girl, preparing to walk away. So what if her family had lost there money. She was the Queen, as she would always be. "You know, walking is good for you and aren't we all trying to save the planet," she said as the signature Blair Waldorf smirk crossed her ever perfect lips. "I mean I for one am not just going to recycle or use canvas bags. I'm a real difference. Did you know every time you ride in your fancy little car, you kill five puppies." Blair sniffled as if completely horrified and saddened by her own made up statistic.

"That is not true," the girl tried to argue.

"You're killing puppies and you have no remorse," she said loud enough for every person in a ten foot radius to hear. "Plus walking wouldn't be bad for you. You could lose a couple pounds. Toodles." With that, she was gone, smiling to herself as she heard the whispers being turned from her to someone else.

Normally, it took Blair thirty minutes to get home, but lately it had been taking nearly three times as long. She hated the fact that her mother had to let the driver go and sell their car. The only member of the staff her family had actually kept was Dorota, and that was only because Blair used her inheritance to pay her beloved housekeeper.

When Blair finally did arrive home she smelled the heavy sent of cigar smoke and the noise of two glasses clinking together. She was curious now. Her father was obviously in a meeting with someone and it had to be someone important for him to be smoking cigars.

"Mother?" she called, knowing very well her mother was not home. Lately, Eleanor Waldorf had been spending much of her time outside of the city with her parents, leaving Harold to watch after Blair. Lightly, she rapped her fist against her father's office door; she walked in before waiting for a reply saying if she could enter or not. "I'm so sorry, Daddy, I didn't realize you were in a meeting."

Harold smiled warmly at his daughter. "It's fine, Blair, we were just finishing up. I don't believe you've met Bart Bass."

"No, I haven't, it's very nice to meet you, Mr. Bass." Now she knew who her father was in a meeting with, but the real question that she asked herself was what was Bart Bass doing in her house?

"Your father was telling me that you go to my son's sister school."

Blair wrinkled her nose as she thought. Bass? Bass? Oh...Chuck Bass. "Yes, sir, your son is Chuck, right?" It was no secret at either school that Blair could not stand Chuck, especially after he nearly lit her hair on fire during the spring formal the previous year. "He's a wonderful person," she said, lying through her teeth.

"Well, I must be going," Bart told Harold. "I trust tomorrow all the paperwork will be in order."

"Yes, sir."

Blair watched Mr. Bass as he walked out of the office and towards the elevator. Once he was out of earshot. She ran to father's side. "What was that about? Please, Daddy, you have to tell me!" It was no secret, Blair loved gossip.

"Why don't you sit down."

She did as her father said, though rather reluctantly. She knew what "Why don't you sit down" meant. Something was wrong. "Daddy?" she asked, her left eyebrow raised, skepticism covered her face.

"Blair," Harold began. "As you know, your mother's line has not been doing well and after some bad investments on my part...we no longer have the funds we used to." He sighed. How could he tell his only daughter that he had practically sold her for a job. "Mr. Bass and I came up with a business plan for me to represent his firm."

She let out a sigh of relief. "Daddy, you scared me. That's wonderful!"

"Blair, that's not all of the agreement we made. There were some stipulations." Harold began to shuffle papers around his desk, trying desperately to avoid all of this, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "You know, I've heard wonderful things about that Chuck boy."

Blair scoffed. "Really? Like how he almost lit my hair on fire? Or how he's sleeping with every maid under 30 at his father's hotel?" She rolled her eyes then looked at her father. Suddenly, panic hit her. "Daddy? Why are bringing up Chuck Basstard?"

"Because you're going to marry him."

Five minutes later, Blair was on the phone with her mother, refusing to speak to her father. "Mother, it is not the 1500s, a girl can marry who chooses," Blair argued in desperation. She would not marry that egotistical, Basshole who challenged every single belief she held.

"Blair, darling, sometimes we have to do things we do not want to do. But we are Waldorlfs."

"But, Mother," she whined. "I cannot marry Chuck Bass. I don't even like him and he has the worst reputation."

"Blair Cornelia Waldorf, do you want to get into Yale? Now, I know you are brilliant, but I have no doubt that money will not hurt your chances into getting into the school of your dreams. Charles can provide those dreams for you. Dreams we no longer have the funds to provide. With your father having this new job. Blair, please."

For the first time since hearing the news of her upcoming nuptials, Blair was silent. She wanted Yale more than anything...even if it meant becoming Mrs. Charles Bass. She sighed, choking back a sob. "What if marriage isn't what I dreamed it would be?"

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Bart Bass had never been one to deny his son anything, well anything reasonable, especially if it kept him occupied. However, he could not for the life of him understand why his son wanted to marry a girl who hated him.

"How did the meeting go?" Chuck asked his father, his signature scarf hung around his neck like usual.

"It went fine, Harold signed the papers and I believe that he is breaking the news to Blair now. Eleanor is coming back to town tomorrow. We are to have dinner with them to discuss everything." Bart sighed. "I don't understand your fascination with this girl, but..."

"No buts, Father," he interrupted. "She'll love me, one day she will love me." Chuck had a plan. Marrying Blair Waldorf was not something he took lightly, but after all, he was Chuck Bass. And he could handle anything even a disgruntled bride to be.


So yes, that is the prologue. Should I continue?