Unbreakable
By La Fata Aurora

Synopsis: 'I've loved you forever.' A punishment. A love continually tested by time. A sin from the past reverberates to the present time, all culminating into one chance encounter in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Chapter One: Cornelia

2012 (Present Time), New York City

Blair Waldorf was not having a good day.

"Oh Sweetie, I'm so sorry to hear that." Serena's voice over the phone was a welcome balm, soothing her deadened veins as she gingerly walked down the steps of the Met. On top of the fact that her borrowed Louboutins were killing her, she just came out of a job interview empty-handed, regardless of her straight A's from the greatest university in the world (a.k.a. Yale), internships to Paris, Tuscany and Madrid, and a soul-wrenching, heart-piercing personal statement which took her several weeks to write.

"Ugh, S! It's nepotism, I'm telling you! I mean," Blair unconsciously switched her three year old Bottega Venetta hobo from one shoulder to another, royally miffed, "my internship to Sorbonne clearly qualifies me for some special treatment! I basically worked for the Louvre! And I could still be, if it weren't for my special feelings for the Met, which, by the way, is ancient history from this point on!"

"Aww, B…don't say that. You've been madly in love with the Met ever since we were in 4th grade! Remember?"

Blair sighed, she's right, deciding to take a moment's breather and sit down on the steps. Indeed, the Met has been her step after Yale, and impulsively ejecting it from her seven year plan creates a gigantic hole in between the entries of 'Madrid' and 'Hot Tryst#3'.

Not happening. She has to do something about it.

"Fine. I could probably endure the internship route and climb my way from there." Blair absentmindedly bent her head, tapping her nape as if to relieve some pressure. She needs to do some yoga, which she'd been neglecting these days, having been preoccupied with the job opening for the Met. "I've done internships before, I'm basically a pro at it—"

She was obviously futilely trying to convince herself, because she burst out again, pissed, "But I still can't believe it! Uuuugh!"

"Well, what did they exactly say?"

Blair saw the M4 bus make a smooth glide to the side of the curb and she stood up, trekking down the steps once more to get on the bus, "Something about—" She paused for a split second, just to be slammed onto by something with a force of a brick wall, "Owww! HEY!"

"Blair?" Serena cried out from the other end of the line.

"Oh Shit! I'm so sorry!" the tall, and might I say, gorgeous blonde offender exclaimed. Blair stared up and noticed that he had the most mesmerizing eyes—deep sea blue, like sapphires. "I was in a hurry, Miss! Are you okay?"

Oh hello there, Hot Tryst#3! Her finger reflexively hanged up on Serena.

Oops.

Blair flashed him a sheepish grin in return, "Yeah. I guess?"

Said gorgeous blonde flung his art tube—a.k.a. the culprit—behind his back, "Either way, I'm really, really sorry! I hope I didn't hurt you or anything?" He sighed unhappily, looking at her up and down to make sure she's fine, "I'm Nate, by the way."

Oooh, 'Nate'. As in Nathaniel, maybe? Hawt. Old money hawt.

"Blair." Blair extended her arm to offer her hand. Nate shook it gratefully, raking a hand over his golden hair as he motioned his head towards the curb.

"You were trying to catch the M4?"

Said bus was now preparing to drive out of the curb. Blair nodded, and Nate sighed once more, flashing her an adorable frown, "I haven't been having a good day today, you see, and nearly sending a pretty girl like you to your death just takes the cake."

Awww…and he talks like a prince too! Talks like a prince, walks like a prince…

"Oh, you're too kind! Besides, you're not the only one who's having a bad day." Blair gestured to the façade of the museum, "I just got rejected from this job opening that I was pinning for, now beat that! And I was really expecting it to follow through, you know…but I guess I shouldn't have placed all of my eggs in one basket."

"A job opening? You mean for the expansion project?"

Blair's eyes widened, "Yes! That same!"

"Oh wow, what a coincidence! A friend of mine patched me up for the same slots!" Nate swung his art tube over, "I'm hoping to get into the architectural team. I just graduated from Dartmouth, so with little experience under my belt I really needed his boost."

"You know somebody inside?" Blair gaped with envy, now totally convinced that the Met would never take her in. Coming from the middle class and all, there was no way that her relatives would actually know somebody from the Board to push her resume through the door, "Lucky, you!"

Nate grinned beautifully, like Blair just declared him a 'saint', before scanning the area as if what he's about to say is akin to secret intelligence straight from the CIA, "You know what? I have an idea."

He bent his head down, motioning Blair to come closer, "Why don't I patch you up too? I mean, I heard that the project needs several hands—lots of them—and maybe all you need is somebody reputable to back you up."

"You'll do that?" Blair's face suddenly glowed with excitement, bursting with all the gratitude that she could muster, "Really? Ohmigod, thanks, Nate!"

Nate gave her a playful wink, beckoning her to walk back with him, "No problem. It's the least I could do after I almost pummeled you down the steps. Besides, I'd really need a familiar face inside. I might not look it but, I'm really nervous about this interview."

"You don't say…" Blair batted her eyelashes, making him laugh, "Could have fooled me."

"Alright! Come on, let's do this!"

And together, they entered the revolving doors of the greatest museum in New York, laughing, immediately connecting and exchanging numbers, unbeknownst to the watchful eyes of a man in black, sitting in the back of a limousine nearby.

He exhaled sharply, observing the scene with little interest, as if he'd seen it far too many times before.

"Milord?" the uniformed driver in the front asked.

He responded by tipping his hat down, signaling the driver to be on his way.

"It has begun."

1427, France

Chaaaaaarles!

I remember her always doing that, elongating her vowels when she's happy. For many years that I've known her, she was always cheerful and smiling, like a burst of sunshine in a beautiful spring day.

How do you do?

I still clearly remember that very first day we met. I was told that she'd be traipsing around the stables now and then—she loved horses, you see. Especially that hellion of a beast named Monkey—and that I shouldn't bother her, or say anything to her. I really didn't see the point of these warnings, for I didn't really care about the infamous spoiled little brat who happened to be my Master's daughter. All I was focused on was, after several wages were paid, I could set out on my own, journey to a place far, far away. Get away from the misery. The discontent. I had plans you see, great, ambitious plans…

And certainly, they didn't involve a particular brunette with caramel colored, doe-like eyes.

My name is Cornelia, what's yours?

But Fate was cruel, and She just had to mess up everything for Her own entertainment.

My ribbon! Monkey ate my ribbon!

I never really liked horses. They were tools, a means of transportation. I guess, the only reason how I survived the stables was because of her. Ever since that day, somehow, the formerly muted place seemed to get brighter, livelier, that coming back to it became something to look forward to, something less of a chore. She'd come early, each day with a different colored ribbon to tie her long, curly tresses, and she'd boss me around, even though I was clearly taller, larger and more experienced than her. Lia…she's a handful. She liked getting things her way, and it didn't help that I like to get things done my way.

Yes. We really had some memorable arguments about fodder. And Monkey—that heinous monster. I bet he was a dog under all that horse-flesh…

Just because we can't be together, doesn't mean I don't love you...

I know, my love. I'm sorry for everything.

Present Time, Back Offices of the Metropolitan Museum of Art

"Hey, Chuck! Over here!"

With Blair walking beside him, Nate waved (like a picturesque model in an Abercrombie and Fitch campaign) to another guy coolly waiting by the end of the hall. His back was facing them, and like she always does, Blair took the opportunity to assess the new guy by likening him to a designer label. As Gorgeous Nate was an A&F, this other guy screamed Ralph Lauren at least, but then again if you look really closely, he was a Dior through and through. You can see it in the patrician way that his broad shoulders supported a head that arrogantly tilted their way when Nate called—

HOLY MOTHER OF SHIT.

"Uh, Blair?"

Blair's widened eyes turned to the side and saw Nate blinking at her in a way that said, 'How well you can cuss, little lady!'

She must have said it out loud.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! SHIIIIIT!

She was doing it again.

"Hey," Nate was now worried, putting down his waving hand. He fully turned to her with his other hand adjusting the strap of his art tube and a concerned frown on his lips, and it was all that Blair wanted (it just means that he is 'invested' and that Hot Tryst#3 is not a long walk from here), but right now she just can't concentrate because for some reason Darth Vader's theme kept playing inside her head.

"Oh, well, well. Would you look at that?"

Now there's the reason.

"WALDORF."

Blair managed to get a hold of herself and flashed him a look that is brimming with exaggerated innocence, "Do I know you?"

He simply smirked—oh how she knows and hates and abhors that smirk! Blair glared at him, much to the great confusion of Gorgeous Nate.

"Umm…you two know each other?"

"NO!"

"YES!"

Nate was at loss.

Blair felt the smirk widening at the implications of her pitched shriek that she reluctantly recanted, crossing her arms over her chest, "Fine. YES, I know him."

Chuck nodded triumphantly at her acquiescence, his eyes gleaming smugly, "Honesty is going to take you a long way in this world, Beautiful."

Blair rolled her eyes at the endearment.

"So, what brings the Ice Queen to my doorstep?"

That's when it hit Blair, looking at him skeptically, "You're Nate's 'friend'?"

Chuck threw her an injured look, "Why do you make it seem like it's the most impossible thing on the planet?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Oh yes, be my guest."

Nate, still in the middle of grasping the underpinnings of their verbal battle, decided to play Switzerland. Stepping in between them, he twitched his lips together with just enough consternation to make the two notice him, "Okay, that's enough!" He flailed an arm in front of Blair who looked like she was about to spit a biting comeback. "Guys lets be civil around here okay? I have no idea how and why you guys know each other, but knowing Chuck, he probably did something awful to you, Blair—"

Blair hit her adversary a victorious smile. Chuck, on the other hand, stubbornly scoffed at her insignificant win, "Thanks a lot, man."

Nate ignored him, continuing his piece, "and as his friend, I'm apologizing in his behalf—"

"I appreciate the sentiment, Natie, but if you knew what he did you'd be doing much more than apologizing." Blair took a deep breath, composing herself. With her bionic ears she heard Chuck mutter 'Natie' sardonically, and it took all her willpower not to strangle him with his own Hermes tie—what a jerk. "Anyways, thanks for trying to help me. As it appears, there's nothing keeping me here. I'd just go."

And she turned around, inwardly grieving her last chances of working for the Met. Well, thinking about it now, maybe it's not for her, considering that every other museum that she worked for wanted her. If she permitted herself to settle, she would even have a pick of three other institutions! Or if she would prefer to stay in New York, she could simply walk into Guggenheim or Frick! They'd eat up her resume! See? More options!

"Actually, there is something."

Blair blinked, her instincts stopping her. She stayed still, not turning back, and for some reason, her brain whirred uncontrollably to process what the statement meant.

"Chuck, stop it." Nate, thinking that he was up to something scaley again, warned him. Chuck shook his head, addressing Blair once more.

"I found it."

Blair felt her heart thundering wildly, the heavy beats deafening on her ears. She refused to turn back, her mind screamed it, but the temptation was too strong…just too strong.

"The Mosaic Tear?" she whispered in disbelief.

"Yes."

Blair started breathing in ragged breaths.

"If I find out that you're lying to me, Bass…I swear, I'd hunt you down and hurt you, and make it look like an accident."

Nate chuckled.

"Fair enough."

A/N: I really had fun writing this! Obviously, it's a ton much lighter than Devil's-a really needed a break from all the drama. I'm not sure if I'd keep the rating at 'T'...because you know me, I luuuuurve a lot of CB sexual tension. Anyways, please read and review! And for those who haven't read Devil's Playground (and given that you're of age to do so too *wink*), I hope you give it a try!

Thanks!

Much love and XOXO,
-LFA-