AN: The holiday season has come and gone, and I fell woefully behind with this. The combination of holiday stress and general lack of creativity made it quite difficult for me to update once a day. Then came a whirlwind trip and I fell short on both time and creativity. So to everyone I've promised a oneshot - I am deeply sorry. I will be finishing them, but not in time, sadly!Continued thanks for the wonderful reviews - apologies on being unable to respond to them, but I have read and loved each and every one.

Une Étable est son Logement was written for the fabulous fouzia269, the loveliest, sweetest, most amazing friend one could have. (And to top it off, she speaks French! And lives in France! And is a wonderful French tutor! Oui, j'adore cette fille.) Je t'aime, et Joyeux Noël, Fouzia!

Prompts were kid!ChuckandBlair and France.

Thanks, as always, to my fantastical beta bethaboo, who is an amazing friend and even more amazing source of encouragement.

"Une étable est son logement,
Un peu de paille est sa couchette,
Une étable est son logement,"

-Il est Né le Divin Enfant

Translations:

Il est Né le Divin Enfan - He is Born the Divine Child

Une étable est son logement,
Un peu de paille est sa couchette,
Une étable est son logement,

A stable is his lodging,
A bit of hay is his little bed,
A stable is his lodging,

"Thank you for this trip, Bart," Anne was saying, and Bart nodded politely, smile affixed to his face, before turning back to his phone call.

The five children in the back—Serena, Eric, Nate, Chuck, and Blair—spun listlessly in their swivel seats, playing idly with their toys as they tried their best to ignore the adult's conversation.

Bart had rented out a manor in France for the holiday season, and while it appeared that the Big Bad Bass never ceased to work, he had allowed Chuck to invite his friends—and their families.

Lily had jumped at the idea, offering to send a nanny with her children—and before Bart had even agreed, had already booked herself a ticket to St. Barts. Serena and Eric looked glum, though the former attempted to cheer up her younger brother with silly faces and horrid jokes.

Harold and Eleanor, on the other hand, had been on the opposite side of the spectrum. Harold hadn't wanted to be parted with his Blair Bear for Christmas—and Eleanor had gone along with her husband's wishes. Thus, the two now sat at the front of the plane, Harold looking listlessly out the window, Eleanor drawing on her sketchpad. Blair, in a grey dress with green bow, had sat herself beside Nate, and was now attempting to engage him in conversation.

Nate, while attempting to avoid Blair's attentions, had begun playing on his Game Boy, shooting his parents a furtive look every now and then. Anne and Howard sat near the front, talking continuously and engaging in numerous conversations—but never with each other. It was something that had begun to worry Nate, the ever-observant six-year-old of their group.

Chuck, on the other hand, was as uninterested in conversation as his father. He was content to simply sit in his seat, watching the clouds below and tracing patterns on the table.

Blair huffed for the thousandth time, and Nate paid her no attention as his eyes remained glued on the screen, his thumbs moving furiously. Blair had the determination of one years older—and the tenacity of a six-year-old.

Chuck turned towards her, looking incredibly small in the oversized white leather chair, her arms crossed and lips pouted.

"Blair," he complained, and she shot him a look.

"Am I bothering you?" she asked haughtily, and Chuck jutted out his chin arrogantly.

"Yes."

Blair frowned at him again, but said not a word as she continued to glare at him.

When Serena finally managed to tear her gaze away from her little brother, she glanced between the two, looking confused.

"Why are you guys mad at each other?" she whispered to Blair, who tossed her a cursory glance.

"We're not mad," Chuck said automatically, and Blair nodded in agreement.

Serena looked between the two of them, then, shaking the worrisome thought, smiled brightly.

"Who wants to play cards?"

Blair and Chuck groaned simultaneously, and in sharing the same views on Serena's newfound obsession with the game Crazy Eights, also shared the shyest of smiles.

…

"Are we there yet?" Serena complained, Eric quiet beside her, as always. Their nanny had opted to take the limo with them, though it appeared that her services were rendered useless by Serena's constant mothering of her younger brother.

"Look out the window," an irate Blair snapped, her irritation ignited once more after Chuck had splashed water onto her stockings and new shoes. She now sat beside Nate—still absorbed in his Game Boy—refusing to acknowledge Chuck.

Everyone in the car—excepting Nate, of course—turned to look out the darkened windows. The looming Chateau de la Caillotiere was an imposing brick manor set on a grassy lawn, a manor so large that the six-year-olds (and one four-year-old) were sufficiently awed.

Immediately, the talk in the car turned towards the manor and its various accommodations; Blair spoke excitedly of horseback riding, though she would hardly be allowed; Serena exclaimed over the lawns covered in snow; and Chuck talked to anyone who would listen about how the pond was most likely frozen over, and they could skate on it.

The picturesque mansion was enhanced further by the snow that topped the surrounding trees, lending a Winter Wonderland feel to the place. When they exited their limos, children and adults alike were looking around them in wonder.

Even Bart had stopped talking on his phone—for the first time that day—taking in the lush scenery.

Eventually, the bitter cold seeped through their wool coats, and at Bart's suggestion, they followed him into the chateau.

The inside was equally as magnificent, decorated in antiques and rich colors, and Bart played tour guide for the briefest of moments, before inviting them to choose their rooms and disappearing on another conference call.

"I want a room by Serena!" Blair immediately exclaimed, and thus began the mad scramble for rooms.

…

Two hours later, and everyone had settled in remarkably well, with nary an argument after Eleanor and the Captain had taken charge of the situation. The children were swinging their legs as they waited patiently for their snack, promised to them by the portly cook.

Blair's expression was sullen again, though Nate had not been the cause this time. Her father had expressly forbidden her to ride the horse—it being far bigger than her own pony—and Blair had thrown one of her rare fits. Rare because hardly anything had ever been denied to her, but when Blair Waldorf was refused something she desired, she did throw quite the tantrum.

"What's wrong, Blair?" Serena asked, and Nate finally looked up from his ever-present Game Boy, glancing at Blair curiously. And so, she explained the entire tale to them, stopping every now and then to insert a sigh, or angry wave of her small hands.

"I know where the stable is," Chuck piped up excitedly. "I saw it on the map."

"What map?" Blair asked in confusion, not having seen a map of any kind during their perusal of the manse.

"It was in father's office," Chuck explained. "I couldn't read it, but I saw a picture of a horse."

Blair's eyes lit up excitedly, and as the cook delivered plates of freshly baked cookies and glasses of milk, she switched seats, settling herself next to Chuck.

"Chuck," she whispered, as the others devoured their own cookies, "let's go to the stable!"

Chuck shot her a bewildered look, "But—"

"Daddy won't take me," Blair explained with a frown, forgetting to mention that her father had expressly forbid it as a whole. "Will you? Please?"

Blair's brown eyes widened, and her expression was one of pleading as Chuck frowned, weighing his options. On one hand, he couldn't exactly remember where the stable was. On the other hand, dealing with an unhappy Blair usually proved difficult for all of them.

But when it came down to it, Chuck knew that it wasn't Blair's whining that would drive him to accompany her to the stable. It was the simple fact that he really just wanted to.

"Okay," he agreed, and Blair grinned widely back at him.

"We'll go after our snack?" she decided, and Chuck nodded in return.

"Go where?" Serena piped up from across them, looking at the two curiously.

"Nowhere," they answered simultaneously, then shared an amused glance at Serena's expense.

…

"Chuck!" Blair snuck poked her head into his room, already dressed in her coat and boots, scarf round her neck, and knitted white hat perched on her brown curls. "Are you ready?"

"Almost," Chuck replied, standing in front of his mirror. With exacting precision, he donned a grey-and-blue scarf, before turning to Blair and grinning back.

"Let's go!" she exclaimed excitedly, and they set off down the hall, looking carefully around corners and glancing left and right at every hallway.

They knew they weren't technically supposed to go out, but within their childlike minds, they were simply making a trip to visit the horse.

They set off across the lawn at a running pace, racing each other over the snow, avoiding the deeper sections. When, at last, they were far enough from the house, they turned to each other, cheeks flushed pink from both exertion and the cold, breathing heavily as they grinned.

"I won," Blair declared proudly.

"Nuh-uh!" Chuck cried, "I won, because I touched the tree first."

"That was the wrong tree!" Blair crowed happily. "I pointed to this one."

Chuck stuck out his tongue, and Blair did the same, though her mother had always frowned upon such behavior. Blair found that when she was with Chuck, inhibitions seemed to fall away (though, at six, she called them bad things, and not inhibitions.), and though Serena had always been her best friend, Blair had always had the most fun with Chuck.

At that moment, snow began to fall. Lightly, as snowflakes landed delicately on their outstretched tongues, and the two laughed gleefully, twirling and reveling in the softly falling snow.

Until Blair tripped on something, tumbling sideways into the snow, with the smallest of screams that had Chuck rushing over to her.

"Blair! Blair, are you ok?" He asked, wide-eyed.

"I think so," Blair frowned at the rock she had tripped over, blaming it for the snow that was now seeping through her stockings.

"It's darker," Chuck decided, glancing up at the already darkening sky.

Blair shivered slightly, from both the cold and the snow that now clung to her jacket. "It's cold."

"We'll run," Chuck decided, grabbing Blair's hand. "I don't want to go back yet."

"Me neither," Blair agreed with a smile.

…

An hour or so later, after walking in what seemed like endless circles, the two finally found themselves in front of the red stable, with the distinctive smell of hay and snow covering its roof.

Blair laughed gleefully, entering through the side door while Chuck hung back, glancing at the rapidly darkening sky.

Frowning, he walked inside to see Blair standing in the middle of the stable, looking around in uncertainty.

"Where's the horse?" Blair asked, confusion evident as ran from box stall to box stall, peeking inside in search for the horse.

Chuck joined her in her search, and when they had checked every nook, corner, and cranny of the stable, turned to each other with frowns.

"She's not here," Blair said with a pout, flopping down onto a pile of hay, momentarily forgetting about propriety. They were in a barn after all.

"I'm sorry," Chuck offered, and Blair shot him a smile.

"We can visit my pony," she decided, "when we get back to New York."

"You have a pony?" Chuck asked, eyes wide. "Does she live with you?"

"No!" Blair cried, proceeding to laugh at his statement. "She lives in her own stable. It's far away from home, though."

"Where?" Chuck looked at her curiously the novel concept of someone owning a pony interesting him to no end.

Blair shrugged. "Far. I don't know, exactly."

"I'd like to visit her," Chuck decided, flopping down beside Blair on the bale of hay. "What's she like?"

"Grey," Blair said dreamily, recalling summers with her pony, her father teaching her to ride. "Her name is _"

"That's a silly name," Chuck retorted, and Blair looked at him for a moment, sticking out her tongue. Chuck, in return, stuck out his tongue and yanked on one of her curls.

"Hey!" Blair slapped his hand away, somehow managing to scratch his wrist at the same time. "That hurt."

"Baby!" Chuck teased, pulling on one of Blair's curls again gleefully, before jumping up and running away.

Blair jumped up as well, small hands clenched, eyes furious as she chased him, forgetting, in her haste, that the small heel on her boots occasionally caused her to trip.

This was one of those occasions, as Blair flew forward, catching herself before falling completely on her face. Her right hand went relatively unscathed, but her left hand had the misfortune to land on a rough patch, scraping the heel of her hand.

"Blair?" Chuck poked his head out from another stall, eyes wide as he took in her current predicament.

"Are you okay?" he asked, approaching her slowly, fear written on his features.

Blair shook her head tearfully, managing to make her way to her feet, but holding her left hand gingerly, wrinkling her nose at the blood.

"This was your fault!" she accused, tears beginning to escape, running in rivulets down her cheeks.

"It was not!" Chuck retorted.

"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't pulled my hair, then run away," Blair pointed out, still frowning at her scraped hand.

"It's not that bad," Chuck countered, edging closer to take a look at her palm.

"I want cookies," Blair said with a pout. "With milk and honey, like Dorota makes when I get sick."

"I'll get you cookies, and milk and honey," Chuck promised.

"We're in a stable!" Blair retorted, wincing at the stinging pain in her palm.

"We'll go back," Chuck decided, and they made their way to the stable doors, peeking out.

The landscape had completely changed, from a welcoming, golden-hued forest blanketed in snow, to a dark, treacherous wood, menacing in every respect.

The two children looked at each other, their previous spat forgotten as they shared looks of equal fear.

"How will we get back?" Blair squeaked, eyes scanning the dark grounds.

"We can try to follow our footsteps" Chuck suggested, but even he knew the suggestion was silly. The snow had covered any trace of their footsteps, and was continuing to fall thickly, the black velvet sky filled with large, white flakes.

"We'll get lost!" Blair exclaimed, and the panic in her eyes mirrored Chuck's.

Chuck thought for a moment, and Blair, realizing that they really were stuck in the stable, turned on her heel, taking in their surroundings.

"There's some blankets over there," she said, pointing towards a small stack of fleece blankets. "And we can make beds in the—ew—hay."

"We're staying here?" Chuck asked in alarm, and Blair nodded.

"We have to," she reasoned. "We can't see outside."

"But—"

"Maybe someone will look for us?" Blair suggested hopefully. "We can always go back in the morning. We could have a sleepover!"

Chuck wrinkled his nose. "Sleepovers are for girls."

"That's okay," Blair said, taking Chuck by the hand, careful to use her right hand, and not her left. "I won't tell anyone!"

"Even Serena?" Chuck asked, and Blair led them towards the blankets.

"Especially Serena," Blair affirmed, pouting slightly. "She can't keep a secret."

"I can keep a secret," Chuck said proudly. "I keep lots of secrets."

"Like what?" Blair asked, eyes sparkling.

Chuck shook his head. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret anymore!"

"Fine," Blair pouted, then looking at her hand, "do you have a band-aid?"

"No, sorry," Chuck mumbled, looking guiltily at her scraped hand. "I'm sorry about your hand," he offered.

Blair shrugged. "It doesn't hurt much anymore."

Chuck smiled, and Blair smiled back as they arranged the blankets in an odd sort of sleeping bag, until finally, the two fell asleep.

…

"Blair! Oh my darling, what are you—"

"Chuck!"

"Blair Bear!"

"Charles, what in the—"

They woke to a cacophony of noise, and they sat up, rubbing their eyes as the adults encircled around them.

"Blair," Harold was the first to speak, kneeling down to eye level with the two, "and Chuck. What are you two doing here?"

Before either could answer, Bart interrupted them, his voice harsher than he meant it to be.

"I suppose it was Charles' idea," Bart said, and Chuck recoiled slightly at Blair's side, "to go exploring at such a late hour."

"Actually," Blair piped up, her small voice fierce, "it was my idea."

"Your idea?" Eleanor snapped, glaring at her daughter. "What possessed you to come and sleep in a foul old barn?"

"She wanted to see the horse," Chuck defended, just as Blair had for him.

"The horse?" Eleanor frowned in confusion, but Harold wore an expression of understanding.

"Blair Bear, the horse is kept elsewhere in the winter," he explained with a smile, holding out a hand to each of the children, "no one rides horses around here with all the snow."

Blair pouted, but grabbed her father's hand eagerly, glancing back at Chuck, who remained on their blankets.

After a moment's hesitation, Chuck grabbed Harold's hand as well, and Harold tugged the both of them to a standing position.

"Never, ever, run off again without telling us," he told the both of them sternly, and the two nodded innocently as Eleanor fussed about Blair, brushing the hay from her curls and straightening her coat.

"I promise, Daddy," Blair said solemnly, but when her father's back was turned, she shared a conspiratorial look with Chuck.

One that he returned, a tiny smirk on his features.

…

"Chuck?"

"Blair?" He rubbed his eyes sleepily as he sat up, looking around for the voice that had woken him up.

She stood, in her nightgown, in his doorway, looking around at his room curiously.

"It's a lot smaller than mine and Serena's," she noticed, and Chuck frowned at her comment.

"That's because there are two beds in yours and Serena's room!" he cried, and Blair turned around quickly, to make sure no one had heard him.

"Shh," she said, closing the door behind her and making her way to his bed.

"Why are you here?" Chuck asked, as Blair sat down across from him.

"I couldn't sleep," Blair admitted, picking at the bandage on her left hand.

"Does it hurt?" Chuck asked, nodding towards the bandage.

Blair scrunched up her tiny nose, then shook her head no. "Only when Dorota poured that stuff on it. It hurt a lot."

"I'm sorry," Chuck apologized, and for someone who apologized so infrequently, he seemed to be making a lot of apologies that night.

Blair shrugged again. "It's alright. I had fun today."

"Me too," Chuck admitted.

"Want to know a secret?" Blair asked, eyes glittering mischievously in the dark.

"Okay!" Chuck agreed eagerly.

"I crossed my fingers when Daddy made me promise," Blair divulged with an impish smile.

"So we're going on another adventure?" Chuck asked enthusiastically.

Blair nodded. "But let's not get lost this time."

"We won't," Chuck said confidently, then, after a moment's consideration, "want to know a secret?"

Blair nodded, leaning closer.

Chuck felt it appropriate to reveal one of his own secrets, but as he searched his trove of secrets, felt that he really only wanted to tell one.

"Sometimes I wish I had a Daddy like yours," he admitted.

Blair cocked her head to the side, regarding his words.

"Why?" she finally asked.

"All my dad ever does is work," Chuck said with a frown.

"He's here," Blair pointed out.

"And he's still working," Chuck countered, and Blair looked at him, his eyes despondent, his chin in his hands. "Do you want to know another secret?"

Blair, after a moment's hesitation, nodded again.

"He thinks I killed my mother," Chuck whispered quietly, and the confession was one that had been eating away at him ever since he had overheard a conversation between his third nanny and his father. It was a confession that made Blair's eyes go wide, and an odd feeling—sympathy, she would later learn—coursed through her.

"That's not true," Blair said firmly, and Chuck looked at her in surprise. "I know he loves you."

"Really?" Chuck asked doubtfully.

Blair nodded emphatically. "Yes. And I know that if your Mommy was alive, she'd love you too."

"Sometimes he doesn't love me at all," Chuck said, and Blair searched her brain for a way to make him feel better.

"Don't worry, Chuck," she said with a bright smile. "I'll always be your family."

"Really?" Chuck repeated his question, this time, with a smile.

"Always," Blair promised.

Always.

fin