Chapter 14 of In Love & War

The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

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"I love you,
but I don't love you.
I gamble with these words
and the winner shall be the liar."
Carilda Oliver Labra, Eve's Disclosure

Blair took a breath and stayed rooted on the spot. The wedding area, which was to the east of the house, was just like she had envisioned it and given her instructions to the staff. In the middle of the Scottish highlands, it screamed Upper East Side. She'd have it no other way – the old Blair. Meaning the Blair that hadn't realized she was marrying a man she loved. The new Blair would've married Chuck Bass under a palm tree with a ripped dress.

Before her lay the path of white wild flowers that she would walk on to the altar. To reach Chuck. To reach her beloved. His eyes were on her form, and even from far away, she felt he could see right through her charade.

He'd always been able to see right through her charade.

He would see right through her now. She'd be transparent to him because now that she knew she was in love, she didn't know how to hide it. How to look at him, how to act, how to touch him, how to laugh with him or at him. Shit! This was going to fall apart at the seams.

She couldn't breathe.

"Are you ready, Miss Blair?" Ruby asked her, holding her own little bouquet as perfectly as possible.

Blair looked down at her and slowly nodded.

She watched as Ruby made it to the front, smiling lovingly at Chuck before the audience full of people she didn't know turned to her. This was it.

One step before another.

One foot before the next.

Do it now, Waldorf.

And her music was her cue. She went forward. She made the decision, then and there. She would marry. She would marry him and love him – even if it killed her. Even if she had her own secrets. She had thousands of regrets when it came to this man. Things that should've, could've, would've gone differently. But this was the wildflower-covered path before her. This was a path of her making and her choosing.

She could've had Chuck Bass many years ago – she could've gone to him at his father's wedding. Waltzed to him and danced with him. She knew he wouldn't have refused her. She could've held his hand at his father's funeral.

She hadn't. She'd stayed away.

And now, years later, despite them, despite the world and the entire universe conspiring against them, they were getting married and she was walking to him. Becoming his and no one else's.

She could see him more clearly now.

Oh, God, oh, God…

And he stepped down, walking towards her, and she felt the air knocked out of her. His eyes were as intense as ever as he reached out and offered her his arm. Her eyes never left his through her veil, and she finally nodded, taking his hand. The feel of his skin against hers made her gasp a little, but she controlled herself as he pulled her up the steps of the mock-altar. His skin was warm and comforting. It was familiar.

They both stared ahead. Stared at the priest as she slid her hand into his arm.

The priest's words were drowned out in her ears, she felt her blood pulsating and making her dizzy, so she held on tighter to him.

Chuck looked down at her, she was covered in ivory, but he could see her face, eyes wide and mouth set as she stared ahead.

"I'm not marrying you for your money."

Her small little hand tightened at the crook of his elbow and, unconsciously, he placed his hand over hers, trying to comfort her. Because he would be good to her. He would try to be a good husband. Her eyes met his as he did this and stayed locked in with his. He didn't know what this meant as the priest went on about love, vows, marriage. And this was it. In a few minutes, he would be a married man. He would marry the one woman he had ever loved – out of all the women he had known and been with. His marriage before had been a joke. A Las Vegas joke. This was real. Blair was real. His own little Kryptonite that had changed him in ways a woman should never change a man. She had managed it.

And now the vows. Shit. He couldn't remember his name.

"Do you, Charles Bartholomew Bass, take Blair Cornelia Waldorf, to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to hold; and to be faithful together until death do you part?"

A lifetime of a moment passed before his eye as the question was posed to him. He knew the answer – had always known the answer. But this was it. He now had to accept her. Let her be his – his responsibility and no one else's. Not Nathaniel's, not her father's, but his.

"I do." His ears rang, and he was pretty sure they were red. He felt her gaze on him for a moment before the attention was turned to her.

Blair felt all eyes on her – she was still reeling from the fact that Chuck had accepted. He had accepted her – for her to belong to him. She was his now. No one else's. She would never belong to another other man but him.

And now her turn. Her turn, to in exchange, take him. For him to belong to her. To care for him, to cherish him…

"Do you, Blair Cornelia Waldorf, take Charles Bartholomew Bass, to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to hold; and to be faithful together until death do you part?"

Her throat felt dry.

She had memories of them as children; how he annoyed her, how he was a thorn in her side and Nate's constant companion – how she would never admit to enjoying his company. And this was it. She was marrying that boy. She was in love with that boy.

"I-I do."

There. She'd done it. She was his as much as he was hers. They belonged to one another.

The priest asked for the rings, which Jacob produced with shaky hands to Chuck. And now they were facing one another as he took her small hand – her warm small hand and slipped the ring into her finger.

"With this ring… I thee wed. Wear it as a symbol of our love and commitment," he grunted out – in bad need of a joint.

She looked down at her ring and stifled a gasp, then looked up at him.

She knew this ring. And he wouldn't meet her eyes. It was… Grace Kelly's engagement ring. A ring fit for a princess. An emerald-cut diamond and two baguette diamonds mounted in platinum next to a small simple platinum band. Her hand shook because she would've never thought he'd listened to all of her prattling as a child and her dreams of a Princess of Monaco ring.

Before she could become sentimental, Jacob was handing her Chuck's ring, which was a plain platinum band, she grabbed it and gently took his own hand. His skin felt real against her own – like the most real thing she'd ever felt. Slowly she slipped it into his finger.

"With this ring I thee wed. Wear it as a symbol of our love and commitment." Her voice was low and shaky and then finally their eyes met.

It was a lifetime of pauses, a lifetime of talks, a lifetime of each other's company, a lifetime of kisses, arguments, tears, betrayals, pain – yet in the mists of all the pauses, talks, moments, kisses and losses they had sealed one another.

In love and war, in sickness and pain, in loss and reencounter, somehow – a little tiny pit of a mustard seed of hope had blossomed, and they had found one another. Neither knew what words to give, but wondered with all their mortal souls if the other was feeling as complete as they were.

"… Now as you, Charles Bass, and you, Blair Waldorf, have consented together in matrimony and have pledged your faith to each other by the giving and receiving of

these rings, I now pronounce you - Husband and Wife."

Their hands were still joined. Their eyes were still locked. They wouldn't have been able to look away if they even tried.

"You may kiss your bride." The priest leaned in.

Blair took a breath as Chuck let go of her small hands and took the edges of her veil and slowly, ever so gently revealed her face.

She saw his jaw twitching – his eyes still burning through her the way they always did. Like the night she gave this same man her virginity, like she'd given him her heart.

Chuck stared down at his bride and let out a breath.

He'd done it. He'd married Blair Waldorf. He was her husband, and she was his wife.

He didn't know if to be elated, sick or petrified. What did he know about being a husband? What would happen when they fought – which would be soon and quickly coming. 101 things would go wrong. He would lose her, gain her – she would break him and make him whole.

She blinked at him. Waiting for it. Waiting for him to kiss her. To 'seal the deal'.

So he leaned in, her scent reminding him of nights spent with her naked in his arms, with her ignoring him and now… Of their kisses, of her eyes, and of their marriage.

So he pressed his lips to hers and their lids fluttered close, brushing gently against each other's cheeks.

She felt her heart literally stop when he leaned in and kissed her. In front of all these people. Before their witnesses, before each other, and before God – if he was still up there.

All the worries and tension that she had felt evaporated when his lips touched hers, because it was more intimate than anything they had ever shared. They were now married. They had sealed their deal, regardless of the emotions and feelings that had either developed or finally been uncovered.

Her hand reached out and touched his face as he kissed her, and he pulled back, looking at her with wide eyes. Caramel. His eyes were now caramel color. She gulped as her hand slowly slipped from his face to his shoulder, and she kept it there as to not fall over.

"Ladies and gentleman, I present to you: Mr. & Mrs. Bass!"

The crowd around them clapped and some cheered as their eyes remained locked with one another.

Slowly, mostly with the guidance of Jacob, they turned to face the crowd, who greeted them with warm smiles and happy eyes.

He took her hand and guided it through his arm and helped her down the steps. Then they couldn't help but smile as flowers were thrown over them as they made it down the isle. Chuck urged her on, pulling her down the same aisle she'd made it up alone, now with him as her husband.

They stood together as they thanked every one for coming, kissing and hugging when appropriate, and looking forward to the festivities where food would be served and music would be played. But mostly they used it as a distraction from the fact that in the deep recesses of their mind they were blindingly happy.

Blair herself was impressed with the dining hall, which was really a large white tent set up by the ceremony area filled with tables, autumn flowers and music. The tables were round and rather rustic but, considering that she was marrying in the Scottish highlands, it seemed rather fitting. The villagers looked like this was their first party, and Blair wondered if Chuck encouraged festivities.

"Have you ever held a party here?" She asked him, leaning over him as they sat at their 'head table'. He turned to her and stared at her, confused – this was a rarity this day since he had been ignoring her for the most part, though they never left each other's side except for when Blair needed to use the restroom, and it took Dorota, her senile mother, Ruby and Polly to get her ass on the toilet seat. Bridal gowns were overrated, she decided. She dimly wondered how Diana did this with dignity.

"No… I'm usually out of the country for Holidays," he confessed, and she looked pleased.

"Well, I'm holding a Thanksgiving and Christmas festival," she told him with a satisfied smirk on her face. His eyes looked at her brightly, and this sent a warm current through her stomach.

"Seems like a good year to start one," he nodded. "Considering we wont be able to travel for a while."

Her brows furrowed. "How long, do you think?" She asked him.

He shrugged. "The way things are? A few months. Maybe a year."

"Oh," was her response. "Then can I be trusted with the preparations?"

He smiled at her then. "A Waldorf soirée – I haven't been to one in a while."

She turned pink unwittingly. "You mean a Bass-Waldorf soirée."

"Yeah." His smile dropped from his face, and he quickly looked away. And just like that they were back to ignoring one another… That is, until the glasses chimed, and their guests demanded a kiss from the bride and groom.

She shook her head, smiling – acting like the blushing bride she was supposed to be, but Chuck nodded and took her face in his hands, never meeting her eyes, and kissed her. She felt herself grow hot and cold at the same time and once more all she could think about as his soft lips caressed hers was the night. The night that was quickly approaching.

Everyone, it seemed, wanted to meet her. She was bombarded by people who wanted to sing Chuck's praise and, by the end of their party, she found out that he had rescued more people than he'd liked to admit, taken in many more than he should have, and was a hero in all of their eyes. Their gratitude towards him knew no bounds, but her favorite part was when she found out that he had a bit of a soft spot for orphans.

Chuck himself had been an orphan, since Bart had really died a month before Chuck turned eighteen. If she hadn't admitted to herself that she loved him before, she would've been definitely in love with him by now.

Since she didn't know what to do with this information, she decided to tease him with it.

"The people think you're quite the hero, you know," she smirked at him when they found each other once more. He looked away but hid a smile.

"People, in their time of need, exaggerate and see things differently," he explained, his voice low and raspy.

"I'm sure that's it," she smiled at him knowingly.

He, himself, had been bombarded with comments.

She's quite the catch.

What a beauty, sir!

It's rather romantic how you married your high school sweetheart.

Did you always love her?

He was drowning in comments. He was drowning in Blair. Blair looked absolutely stunning, more stunning that he'd ever witnessed, and the sight of her was intoxicating. All he kept thinking in his mind was that in a few hours – in a few short hours – she would be all his. 100% his.

Plus, she was smiling and acting like the happy bride she was supposed to be. She would lean on him, tell him that her feet hurt, let him kiss her when the damn glasses chimed, smiled at people, and re-tell the story of their love. What story of their love? There was no motherfucking love! He was internally, eternally irate.

Blair left Chuck's side to follow Ruby, who said she had something to show her. Ruby, for her part, was star struck for a lifetime. Blair was sure the little girl would never recuperate.

"Ruby –" Blair cried as she was taken away from the guests and towards the stables.

"It's a secret and a surprise!" Ruby said, her hair falling from the once elegant bun and her shoes now gone, replaced by rain boots under her lovely dress.

Blair's heels stuck in a mud a few times as she tried to prevent her dress from getting dirty on the floor. Once they entered the stables, Ruby quickly went towards the end.

The stables were large, fitting nearly fifty horses, and were full. The smell, however, was not the most pleasant. Blair scrunched up her nose as the scent of horses and their excretions hit her senses.

"Show me another time, Ruby, please –" Blair begged.

"No, you have to see it now!" Ruby told her, stopping by a stall and looking adoringly in. Blair's interest was peeked as she came to the girl and witnessed the sight before her. And there they were. Hera, her own horse, resting next to Chuck's black Arabian.

"They're in love," Ruby whispered.

Blair's mouth dropped as the horses nuzzled one another.

"Tristan and Hera are sweethearts, just like you and Lord Bass." Ruby smiled happily at her.

"Oh, Ruby – it's not always like this." Blair tried to bring the young girl down from her illusions. She sometimes wished someone had brought her down from her own illusions. Serena would center her – at times – but for the most part Serena always loved playing right along with her, letting Blair lead them down a dream-filled fantasy.

"Why? Don't you love Lord Bass?" Ruby asked, quite shocked.

Blair smiled at her. "Yes. I love him very much."

And now she was confessing it to random people when she should be telling him and risk the humiliation it would bring when he threw it in her face that this was all a bet – a silly game of theirs.

"Well, he loves you – you can tell by how he looks at you!" Ruby said happily.

"Yes – quite in love the two of you are."

The voice made Blair's blood freeze, and she quickly turned to find none other than Clara lounging by the stable door.

She was wearing khaki slacks and a white 'dress' shirt with knee-high boots and a black scarf tied around her neck. The same neck Blair wanted to wring. Blair instinctively pushed Ruby behind her – she didn't know how deranged this girl was.

"Clara," Blair said between clenched teeth.

"Blair," Clara nodded, eyeing her dress up and down. "Nice dress."

Blair's eyes narrowed, trying to remain her composure. "Custom made."

"Of course," Clara pushed herself off the doorframe and walked to Blair. Blair stiffened.

"Hello, Miss Clara," Ruby piped in from behind Blair's large skirt. Blair pushed her back.

"Ruby, long time no see – traded up, have you?" She asked, and Blair's nostrils flared.

"What do you want?" Blair demanded.

"I want plenty." Clara nodded.

"Of things I don't have – let's narrow down that list, shall we? Is there anything you want that I don't have?" Blair snapped. A slow smile formed on Clara's face.

"You're smarter than you look." Clara nodded, striding casually to Blair.

"You're not," Blair snapped.

"Miss Blair!"

Both Clara and Blair jumped at the sound of Dorota's voice. Blair let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"Miss Blair, the first dance – please come." And Dorota threw Clara a stern and ugly look that Blair had never seen her display before… Except for that time she found Chuck and herself making out on her bed.

Clara smirked at Blair. "Watchdog?"

Blair nodded to Dorota, dragging Ruby with her and pointing at Clara with her nose.

"Watch the bitch."

Dorota, true to her word, didn't remove her eyes off Clara's form until Blair was trailing back towards the reception with Ruby behind her.

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"We can cut it short, if you like, sir," Jacob told him, watching Chuck anxiously. Chuck was pacing back and forth and had a strained smile on his face.

"No – no – it's fine. Apparently we should hold more festivities," he explained to Jacob. Jacob raised a brow.

"Says who?" Jacob asked.

"My blushing bride," Chuck said between clenched teeth.

Jacob arched a brow. "Ahh."

"We've been married for two hours, and she's already running things. I should've married some one-eyed, ass-less, mute, blind and rotting girl." Chuck fumed quietly to Jacob.

"I'm sure we could've found someone with all of those specifications." Jacob stated and Chuck glared at him.

Then Blair re-entered the reception. Chuck could tell by either the way the room changed when she was around, or by how other women started twittering around her.

"Unfortunately, you have married a two-eyed, talkative, and well shaped girl, so therefore now you must dance with her." Jacob pushed Chuck towards Blair's form; she walked with a set mouth and purpose in her eyes.

Chuck knew instantly that she wanted to talk. Or complain about something. Or demand something of him.

"We need to talk," she snapped at him, but before she could say anything else their song had started and he took her arms, swaying her back and forth.

"Bass, what are you doing – listen to me," she hissed.

"Do try to look in love, Blair," he snapped. Her nostrils flared, and she glared at him. "No, no – softer. Get the glow back."

He was sure she would smack him, and he was enjoying every bit of her discomfort.

"I never had a glow," she said but plastered a smile on her face. "The only glow I'll get is when I drop-kick Creepy Clara back to whatever planet those pants she's wearing came from."

Chuck let out a laugh, and people looked on amused as the happy couple danced gently on the dance floor.

"And to think many thought you were now reformed, above fashion-criticism, moral, and humble," he teased, his eyes shining playfully.

This melted her stomach, and she cursed internally. She was entirely too in love with him. She had never agreed to fall into such a deep psychosis. She'd have to have a talk with her internal ramblings.

"Psycho bitch talk, please – she cornered me on the stables and commented on my dress!" She hissed.

Chuck raised a brow on her. "What did she say?"

"I cut up your first gown, but this one looks just lovely on you – aren't you happy I did it?" She quipped, and he chuckled. She swatted him on his shoulder, and he turned her quickly, dipping her and making her yelp.

"You're distracted. You used to be a better dancer," he noted.

"I was just harassed, I hope you find it this deliciously funny when you find me one morning all cut up and tossed on you," she snapped, eyes narrowed.

The very thought of her dead sent this awful wave of nausea through him, and he clenched his teeth. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her closer – more intimate.

Her eyes met his when he did this, and the entire Clara conversation was forgotten. It suddenly dawned on them that as their flirtatious banter continued, so did the minutes and the hours – all leading up to the eventual consummation of their love.

Or non-love.

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She would never admit it to anyone, but her hands were shaking when Dorota and Polly finally took her up to her room. Their room. Dorota's eyes were wide and worried, brimming with tears for Blair's position.

"I'll be fine," she whispered to her, holding on to her hand and nodding.

Polly helped her sit on her chaise and showed her how to remove the dress without ripping it. Blair thanked her, and she left them, leaving Dorota facing her.

"I'm not afraid," Blair told her.

Dorota nodded. "You love him."

"I do," Blair replied, then looked downward. "I'll just pretend."

"Pretend what, Miss Blair?" Dorota asked her.

"That he loves me, too," Blair said softly, arranging her veil around her.

Dorota finally left, her eyes downcast and saddened. The moment she closed the door behind her, her heart breaking for her Blair as she sat silently on the chaise, she stared at Jacob, who was staring back at.

"Miss Dorota."

Dorota's nostrils flared. "He be good to my Blair!" She snapped at him.

Jacob couldn't help but nod. "She better be good to my Chuck."

Dorota nodded, still angry at him. "Then she ready."

Jacob gulped and watched her walk away, stifling sobs against her handkerchief. He straightened out his suit and walked to Chuck's room. He knocked on the large mahogany door.

"Come in." Chuck's voice was heard from the other side and Jacob entered.

Jacob closed the door behind him and cleared his throat.

"She's ready," he told Chuck, who had lost his tuxedo jacket and stood there with a scotch on his hand. Chuck gulped back the scotch. His hair was a rambled mess – probably a result of endless rhythmic raking from his hands.

Jacob watched him, then excused himself and closed the door behind him.

Chuck stared resolutely at their connecting doors and glared at no one in particular. He could do this. Hell, he'd wanted to have sex with Blair since he became aware of what sex was. Once he had her, she was a bit addicting. An addiction that hadn't been fed in years. He was like a trembling addict, about to get a hit and completely out of his goddamn mind.

He downed another glass of scotch and then set the glass down with purpose.

She was ready.

Like a little white lamb about to be sacrificed type of ready. He groaned and truly held back the terrible need to puke. Because that is what he felt. He felt nauseous.

Truly and completely nauseous.

He counted to twenty three, and then finally decided to go to her. She had agreed to this entire mess of theirs. He wasn't taking advantage of her, and she had confessed she wasn't marrying him for the money. If it wasn't for the moment, his bet was on gratitude. The old Blair Waldorf wouldn't love him because he wasn't Nathaniel, and the new one wouldn't love him because she thought he was. All heroic and noble. Made him sick. Hence the nausea. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was about to solidify his marriage to the one woman he had always loved. No. It wasn't that.

He quietly walked to their hallway – the same infamous hallway where she'd been unable to keep her hands off him one moment and was shoving him around the next. The make-up-your-mind hallway. That bitch of a place.

His steps echoed on the wooden floor.

Thud. Tap. Thud. Tap.

Sending her warnings. Telling her he was coming.

He slowly knocked on her door. It was the least he could do.

"Come in." Her words were soft on the other side, and he gulped.

This was it. She was letting him in.

He slowly opened the door and found her sitting on her wedding gown, the veil still framing her face – like a lost Victorian doll with her thick brown curls around her.

His eyes zoomed in on her necklace. His necklace. Their necklace.

He swallowed and opened his mouth to speak, but he had no words. The room was alit with the soft glow of candles and he dimly noticed that the bed had coral petals on the ivory silk sheets.

She slowly raised her head and her eyes met his. He saw her take a deep breath and let it out.

"Come here," she said quietly and, without noticing, he went.

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To be continued