Sorry it's taken me so long! I've been very busy enjoying summer. This is another one revolving around the Chuck, Blair, Louie triangle. Again didn't really discuss the potential pregnancy, mostly because I like this prompt better without it.

Prompt 8

Paris

"Sometimes I wonder where I'd be if we'd never met."

They are flying over the ocean as the sun sets, turning the clouds that surround them cotton candy pink. Her mood is decidedly darker, she's in shock. A little ashamed. There are very few words to sum up this moment. This finality she feels. A summer spent apart and now an eternity together. She is a silly girl, and she'd never imagined her fairytale could end so practically. With a sensible lack of evil stepmothers and bloodshed. Although she does suppose he had to cross an ocean. And to wake her up from a deep slumber.

His hands are in her hair, fingering each strand quietly as she leans against his shoulder with her eyes closed. He used to think there was nothing better than a glass of scotch after a long day. He is immensely glad to have been proven wrong. There is nothing better than the weight of Blair Waldorf against him.

"Lost," he answers after a moment of thought, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

She sighs; she's beginning to think he's right. Had been right all along. She tilts her chin, meets his worried mouth half way, and when his hand moves to cup her cheek she laces her finger with his.

And their matching platinum bands shine in the light of the falling sun.


One week earlier

Monaco is beautiful in the summer. Barely any rain and the sun is nearly constant. Her peaches and cream complexion is slowing turning sun kissed, despite the liberal amounts of sun screen she is seemingly constantly applying.

Her engagement ring heats up under the relentless onslaught of rays. And she is persistently playing with the band, attempting to cool it down. Sometimes she takes it off and then spends the better half of her afternoon frantically searching the palace. Louie doesn't notice. He's very busy these days. And for proprieties sake they're relegated to different rooms.

When they do spend time together he is always attentive. Always sweet. And she is overwhelmed with guilt for being so bored. Trapped in a pristine, ivory tower with a man who is constantly trying to understand her, but who never comes close. It is horrible. And she has spent the majority of her time in Monaco feeling absolutely wretched about it.

She doesn't know what's wrong with her. Because there must be something. Doesn't every girl fantasize about being picked by a prince? Isn't a fairytale finish every bride's dream? She is Grace Kelly reincarnate, on the cusp of becoming everything she'd always wanted. More powerful then she'd ever dreamed. And here she is, ready to cry tears of frustration. Of horrifyingly intense disinterest.

So when Serena calls, fresh off a win in California, and proposes a rendezvous in France Blair jumps at the chance. Even though she is well aware he is there as well. Business or pleasure or whatever, she'll manage to avoid him as long as it means a few days of freedom.

Louie smiles as he sends her off in style. She will be gone seven days, shopping and catching up with her best friend. He doesn't know about Chuck. There's no reason to tell him of course. What's the point in needlessly upsetting her already wary fiancé? She won't see him. Refuses to even entertain the idea, especially in her current state. She just needs more time so that she can grow out of her Chuck withdrawals and settle into her mundane, er, cozy life with Louie.

That's what growing up is, she's decided. Picking a path and sticking with it. Committing in every way you can. And she had, that night when he'd given her up. When they'd both decided to go their separate ways. She would marry Louie, and he…well he would figure it out just as she had.

She and Serena are three days into their week of luxury when the blonde gets a call from her former stepbrother requesting a dinner. And Serena tells Blair she doesn't have to go, that she herself will be gone two hours at most. And Blair is fine with it, really she is. That is until two hours before the meal, when she throws on her newest purchase, a gorgeous red cocktail dress and decides to accompany her best friend anyway.

She tells herself it's for curiosities sake, that she wants to catch up. But her skin crawls with anticipation. Butterflies flutter traitorously in her empty stomach. Barely sixty days apart and she's practically itching to even be in the same room again. Like an addict about to get her next fix she is frantic to see him. She hadn't realized how desperate she was until she was faced with the choice. She is the worst kind of liar, because for a while she'd even managed to fool herself.

He looks tired she decides as they enter the beautiful restaurant, like he's been spending too much time at work. His surprise at her appearance is unnoticeable to anyone but her, his eyes shine with shock as he leans in to kiss her cheek. "I didn't know you were in town," he whispers in her ear, holding onto her hip for just a second too long before stepping back like a man in a daze.

"It's not that long a trip from Monaco," she answers as she blinks a few too many times while taking her seat, the way she's been picturing him in her head did no part of him justice, "And I wanted to see Serena."

He nods, and then they move onto lighter topics. Chuck talks about work; he's in town looking for potential buildings for another hotel. Serena talks about her movie. And Blair, well Blair listens mostly, because her practice as a princess in training is dull in comparison to her friend's accomplishments. And the other alternative is Louie. And that doesn't seem wise given her present company.

For most of dinner all is well. And she's beginning to think she can handle this, getting small doses of him at parties and dinners to tide her over. She can live on sighting and small talk as long as he isn't out of her life entirely. That was unbearable. No, she's decided they will be friends. She wants that, she needs that.

But then Serena gets a text. And she is out of her seat like a shot. She mutters something about final cuts on the movie. How her partner is screwing everything up. And then she says those fateful words, 'finish dinner without me.' And she is gone. And its Blair's worst nightmare, caught alone with her villain. The one thing standing between her and her prince.

He smiles, and it's probably one of the few times she's observed Chuck Bass nervous. But given the way her heart is pounding she can't really judge him for it. He takes a long gulp of scotch before muttering, "How's Louie?"

She considers her napkin before answering, "Busy." His lips purse so she adds, "But besides that wonderful."

Chuck nods solemnly and answers, "He's a good man."

And it's awkward and horrible and sad so she fills the silence with mindless chatter. With drawn out descriptions of the palace and the beaches and the heat. And she knows she's talking too fast, that he's looking at her with alarm and a growing suspicion. She's feels like she's unraveling, and that if she can just fill up all her empty space with words she doesn't mean and feeling she's lost neither of them will have time to notice.

But he's known her forever, loved her for just as long, and most of the time he understands her better then he understands himself. She doesn't know why she feels the urge to cry when he lays his hands over hers, only that it feels so good. She'd forgotten, or maybe repressed the emotions he could summon with a single touch. She's fighting a losing battle, but somehow she manages to suppress her tears.

"You're happy," he questions, and his voice is too tortured for such a lovely setting. Because he'd given her up for happiness and nothing less. He'd thought he'd forfeited to a better man, a more deserving man. He'd never imagined it wouldn't be enough, that she'd achieve perfection and still not be satisfied. And so he adds, desperately, "Please just tell me you are."

She hesitates, and that is confession enough. But then she blinks, draws away her hand and lies, "Of course I am." It tastes stale on her tongue but she's sticking to her story. Clinging to her illusion even as it goes down in flames.

"Blair," he starts, reaching for her again. He knows the tricks, and her eyes and mouth are veering in completely different directions. Much like her heart and head.

But her chair is pushing backward before he can get close. Her voice is high, bordering on shrill, "I shouldn't have come." And he'd cause a scene, yell her name until she's forced to turn and face him. But that would only prove her point, they are past his usual shenanigans, and the only way he'll ever get her back is if she comes of her volition.


Paris is beautiful at night. Everything glows and sparkles. And the last thing such a gorgeous city needs is a brunette in six inch Louboutin's charging through the streets on an escape mission. She is making a fool of herself. But it's only six blocks away from the restaurant that she regains the ability to breath and loses the urge to throw up.

And then she stands there. Stuck. Caught inevitably between two worlds and the two men that live in them. Her perfect prince. And her devious villain. The person she is and the person she tries to be. But she is not a princess, she is a queen. And there has only ever been one city she's wanted to rule over. One man who has ever made her feel worthy of a crown.

And unfortunately he doesn't reside in Monaco. He is sitting at a table in Paris cleaning up her mess. He is flawed and twisted but so is she. And she can play victim well enough for others to believe her, even well enough that she believes it herself. But the truth, as she stands panting in the dark, is that she knows who she is and what she's capable of. She knows that the dark parts inside of her will never change. That she will always be just a little bit destructive. That she will always scheme rather than admit to her contrived desires. And that she accepts that her collateral damage sometimes includes the ruined lives of people.

She is a romantic with a God complex. A powerful woman who needs someone to take care of her, but never to undermine her authority. Someone who can understand the delicate nature of her psyche. But mostly, someone who can tell when she's lying, who can see her insincerity even when she's managed to trick herself.

Her run looks even more ridiculous the second time around.

He is standing in front of the restaurant, fingering a thin cigarette like it is the most interesting thing in the world. But when she stumbles to a halt in front of him he drops the vice to the ground absent mindedly, forgetting it instantly.

She takes a breath, pats her perfect coif to make sure it is still flawless. And then she smiles, it is a little bitter and a little defeated but there is also liberation. And so much hope she practically glows.

She reaches into his jacket pocket, and her grin widens when she finds what she's looking for. Pulling out the box and snapping it open with expectant eyes. Then she looks up at him, a plea and a command on her lips, "Save me."

And it takes him a moment to recover. To realize he isn't hallucinating. But then he does.

He saves her.

Mostly from herself.


The next morning she returned early to her prince. And handed him back the ring he had so earnestly presented her only a few months ago. He takes it surprisingly well. But he is a good man. And she would have been lucky to marry him. They both knew that. They also both knew that it would have made her utterly miserable.

And so Louie let her go.

She spent the next four days holed up half naked in a Parisian villa with a spectacular view of the city. She ate strawberries and chocolate and drank champagne and laughed and talked and slept. They both ignored calls from their distressed family and friends. And on the fourth night he had made her an offer she couldn't refuse.

They were married in Paris at dawn. Serena had arrived breathless from her hotel, with a flustered grin and a string of tears dripping down her face. Nate somehow managed to fly in last minute from Barcelona, where he had been visiting his spa hopping mother. He spoke very little, only rolled his eyes and muttered something about inevitability.

She had never imagined herself eloping. Marrying without a hint of pomp or circumstance. Her dress is vintage, purchased that morning. He wears a dark shirt that matches his eyes. And it doesn't seem to matter that she's bought shoes more expensive than her wedding, because she's marrying him. Forever. And that's really all that counts.

She cries when the justice of the peace pronounces them man and wife. Another thing she never thought she'd do but can't seem to repress. The tears are happy, this sort of manic joy that's overtaken her ever since she slipped on her second engagement ring and her first wedding band.


He breaks their kiss, his smile as wide as her own. His thumb brushes her cheek bone as he asks, "So Mrs. Bass, we're hovering over the Atlantic at twenty thousand feet. Where to?"

She sighs again, leaning back against him leisurely, "Take me home."

Thanks to 88Mary88, MrChuck, fiction by cereza, loopingread, TriGemini, pty, Temp02, louboutinlove, lisottina81, and Arazadia. You're reviews are amazing.