A/N: This is the best past life chapter I've written so far. I'm not sure how much this is out of character, but I tried to make it as much obvious Chuck- Blair as possible. I'm not sure when I'll update again, I gues I'm just waiting for inspiration to hit. Enjoy.
Discalimer: I don't own GG, though I am excited for Chuck to go looking for Blair this Monday. The only research I did for this piece was watching Marie Antoinette and reading A Tale of Two Cities. Sorry for any inaccuracies.
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He could hear it from outside of his dank window. The mob was coming. He knew they would be coming for awhile. The king and queen remained oblivious. They sent funds to America. They were so removed from the starvation and poverty that they didn't know it was there. It wasn't like he cared that much about the poor. They were people too, but there was only one person who was deamed so crucial that she was forever embedded in his mind.
He was only aware of this situation because his golden sister had become charitable recently. So charitable that she had actually fallen for one of them.
The mob was getting louder. He could see the glowing from the torches by now. He knew this would be his final resting place. That much didn't really matter. All that mattered was that she was far away. She was one of the queen's mistresses. She was safe in their haven, no matter how far away from him she was. She was better that way. She was safer.
He looked one more time outside of the Bastille. He knew judgment day was coming.
July 14, 1789, Versailles, France
The Storming of the Bastille
The six other inmates in the cell were unaware. They actually deserved to be in here. Not that he didn't, but he wasn't like them. He was a courtier. But the knowledge of that was going to kill him. As long as she was far away, he would be fine. As long as she was safe, he would be fine.
The shouting of the mob grew louder. He squeezed his eyes shut, imagining her face. Her radiant face that simply glowed when he looked upon it. Her trill of laughter in the ball room. The way her skirts flowed as she spun. The way she purred his name.
With the clanging of the cell door being ripped from its hinges, his eyes snapped open. This was it. The desperate expressions of the poverty stricken French made him tense. Would his head rot on a spike like the rest of them?
He squinted against the torches. He hadn't seen light in so long. The person with a battle axe started towards him. He wouldn't be a coward. He sat strong, waiting for his demise. He waited for his demise that never came.
Instead of cutting him down, the axe was hefted to the other hand and he was helped to his feet. He just stood, looking in confusion at the throng of people surrounding him. The other inmates crowded towards the gaping hole as he just stood there. His mind went blank at the situation.
He was told he was free. That's when it hit him. These people took him for one of them. They didn't know his status. For once, he was glad. For the first time, it had saved his life.
He stumbled outside, looking behind him. He watched what had been his residence for months be dismantled. Stones were thrown and the Bastille came crashing down.
He walked in a haze. Everything was so surreal. Flames erupted everywhere. Screams of triumph and glee filled the air. These were the people who caused him harm. These were the people who would decapitate him if they knew who he was.
He could smell death on the air. It was almost suffocating. His eyes rose and that's when he saw it. Seven heads rose on spikes. Seven heads who he could have known. Seven heads that he could have drank with. Seven heads that could have been his family.
He looked down at his attire. He was still dressed in black from his father's funeral. He hadn't even had time to change when they hauled him off to the dungeon. He hadn't even had time to say goodbye.
He walked unsteadily through the square. It was all chaos. His legs were weak beneath him. He barely had any nourishment in there. He spent the majority of his days slumped against that stone, uncomfortable wall.
He wouldn't change it for the world. He wouldn't have sold out her reputation for his freedom, no matter what she thought of him now. The last time he saw her they were not on the greatest of terms. He called her cruel things. He had accosted her harshly. But he had done this for her. He had given himself up for her.
At first, he thought it was a hallucination. It was his name whispered on the breeze. He heard it louder this time. He heard the sound of the angels. His name was said with more conviction this time.
He turned around slowly, not wanting to crush his fantasy of what might be standing there. And there she was. There stood his tragically beautiful lover. Her once elegant gown hung in tatters off her slender frame. Her chocolate curls streamed down her back. Grime covered her face, streaked by her tears. Time seemed to slow. The gentle wind lifted her curls from her face.
Her eyes cast the rest in shadow. Her face lit up as he met her gaze. Her vibrant dark eyes shone through the devastation.
The fire illuminated her face, casting wonderful colors across it. It reminded him of the sun. He thought of when he used to wake up to the sunrise, with her by his side. The sun cast her porcelain skin into a golden glow. Her tousled curls lay sprawled across his pillow.
That was how it used to be. But it didn't matter how it was now. Because suddenly she was in his arms again, their bodies crushed together amidst the destruction. He wound his fingers in her hair, pulling her into him. Her arms surrounded his shoulders. It had been months since he tasted her sweet lips against his. It had been more than a year since he felt her body tremble underneath his in ecstasy. It was a year too long.
She buried her face in his neck. He felt the warm trickle of her tears seeping into his old grimy shirt. He pulled here away instantly, a glaring look boring into her eyes.
"What do you think you're doing here?" he demanded.
"Looking for you," she said tearfully. He kissed her face fiercely, riding the moisture from her face.
"This is dangerous," he broke away from her again. "Look how you're dressed. They would immediately know that you're aristocratic."
"I had help," she said. His eyes narrowed.
"My sister?" he asked. She nodded. They both knew that his sister's recent infatuation was frowned upon. Her poor charity case had helped his one true love find him, and for that he was grateful. But he could kill him for putting her in such danger.
"How did you know," he asked, "that the Bastille was being stormed?" She looked up with a mischievous glint to her eyes.
"Like I said," she said, "I had help."
"You could have been killed," he murmured desperately into her hair.
"I didn't care," she whispered. "I don't care."
"Well, you should," he snapped. She didn't even flinch.
"Are you going to push me away again?" she asked softly. His anger at her danger vanished. Her eyes weren't hurt. They were confident.
They weren't like that night, after his father had died. He made her cry that night. He was convinced that everything he touched withered and died. He couldn't let someone as pure and beautiful as her waste away like he was. He pushed her away and disappeared forever.
He crushed her to his chest again. He couldn't let her go ever. He looked over her shoulder. Stones were coming down quickly. They were still in danger. Nothing had seemed to matter when he had seen her again. Amidst the dissolution of life as they knew it, nothing seemed to matter now that they were reunited.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to a deserted alley. He would never forgive himself if she died here because of him. She was very conspicuous but she didn't seem to care.
He pressed her against the stone wall and buried his face in her air. Above the smoke and smog that filled the air, he could still smell her distinctive sweet smell that always broke his resolve.
It was the scent that deemed her irresistible. He had tried to resist her. She was untouchable. She was a pure virgin. Yet somehow, she still wanted him. It was inconceivable.
He used to love watching her dance. Her face was full of joy and beauty as she twirled around the room. He would just stand in the corner, drinking. He could never keep his eyes of her. Maybe it was that she was off limits that made him want her all the more. Maybe he just wanted what he couldn't have. But he couldn't have anyone else, either.
He was known for his conquests. There were plenty of virgins he couldn't have. But he wanted her. Something pulled her to him that he couldn't explain.
She and his sister were the best of friends. It was she who kept the secret that his sister was having an affair with one of the rebels. How that poverty stricken traitor had betrayed him and his family and yet delivered his angel back to his side didn't make any sense.
He was lucky to have met her. His sister warned him against her. He didn't heed. He tried, but he just couldn't let it go. She just wasn't like the rest of them. She was unpredictable. She told people what she thought of them and retained her status unrepentantly. It was the life in her eyes. She made him feel something he thought was dead. She made him love her when he hadn't wanted to. She made him feel something until everything came crashing down around them.
First, it had been the obvious debt that France was crawling in. Their monarchy was blundering. It was only a matter of time before the economy liquidated. He just wished it hadn't been in that one perfect year that he never regretted. He just wished it wasn't when his father had died.
"You forgive me," he whispered huskily into her ear.
"I never blamed you," she whispered back. "It was my fault. You didn't have to be sent into that place. I could have saved you."
"No," he pulled away. "I wasn't going to risk your reputation for my freedom."
"I would have," she said quietly. "You're worth it."
"Don't," he said. "Don't say that. After everything I did to you." She just shook her head, that infuriating smile on her. That smile that said she knew him better than anyone. That smile was right.
He took her hands gently in his, kissing her left. He looked down and saw the token. The heart shaped ruby ring stayed solidly as ever on her finger.
"You kept it," he said. She looked down and smiled.
"I told you I would wait for you," she said.
"You couldn't have known I was coming back," he shook his head.
"I knew we would see each other again," she said confidently. "In the next life, if not this one."
That ring represented everything he ever wanted and everything he was convinced he was going to get. In simpler times when naivety was the spoken tongue, she was everything he was.
That ring represented his weakness. He couldn't leave her alone like his sister had begged him to. His sister knew his reputation, but she knew something much more dangerous. She knew that her dark brother was falling for his equal that was in the form of her best friend.
He didn't expect her to return his affections. He wasn't worthy of her. That was his entire life. His father was condescending and he never lived up to his potential. That was how he thought love worked. He thought he would vie for the attention of one person never to have it returned.
She taught him different. She taught him that he could love; that he was capable of it. He knew that she was his one and only.
He didn't know what she saw in him, but he was convinced that she deserved better. She was perfect in every way. He was just a pursuer. He didn't know what love was.
"How could you be so sure?" he wondered, mystified.
"Because things like this just don't happen," she reasoned. "I don't see all the beauty in the world just to have it taken away." He leaned his forehead against her, breathing her in. She was right. It was too good. The monarchy may crumble. Their way of life might deteriorate. But they were forever.
"Come with me," she held out her hand to him. "Please," she added. He smiled and took her dainty hand. He would follow her to the end of the world. And looking around, that's what it looked like it would be.
"Where are we going?" he asked. He realized that they were completely alone now.
"We have a passage out," she said, still pulling him along.
"I don't trust him," he said, referring to his sister's new friend. "He deliberately put you in danger."
"He didn't," she shook her head. "He said that the Bastille was being stormed. I knew I had to come. Your sister begged me not to, but I knew I had to. I couldn't leave you. Not now, not ever."
"You could have been caught," he said, thinking of the disaster that could have befallen her just because of him.
"No," she said with confidence. "That never would have happened. I had to save you. There was no way anything would have happened to me when I was coming for you."
"How can you believe that?" he asked, exasperated.
"I have faith," she smiled. "I knew we would find each other in the end." He smiled at her blind faith. He supposed in a way, he felt the same as well. That was why he wasn't afraid when he thought death was imminent. All he could think of was her.
He wasn't sure where they were going, but she seemed confident in their path. That's when he saw them. His golden haired sister and her beau. Maybe he wouldn't hate the cretin who had delivered his soul mate back to him, but it didn't mean that he would like it. This was still dangerous.
"Wait," he paused, holding her back from reaching her friend. She raised her curious wide eyes to his. He took her left ruby clad hand again.
"What I said, the first time we found each other…" he started. Her eyes lit up at the reference. She remembered. She would never forget. "I wasn't just saying that. I meant every word."
That had been the best night of his life. He hadn't expected her to come to him, but she had. He tried to push her away, like he always had, but she was persistent. He hadn't wanted to ruin her, but she didn't care. She wanted him. She had that blind faith that she still possessed after everything had happened.
She wanted to be with him. She wanted to love him. He had been with many women before her-- which she was aware of-- but not like her. She had promised herself to him and he could only do the same.
She seemed confident that they were the only ones for each other. He didn't know how she knew, but somehow, she just did. She saved him, in every way a person could be saved.
She promised her body and soul to him and he could only do the same. He gave her the ring that represented his love for her. He promised her his entire life to her.
He spent one blissful year with her in secret. It was everything to him. However, everyone knew about his conquests. His sister was off running around with God knows who and he wasn't seen with anyone. When their father died, everything went to hell.
He was accused certain attachments that he could only deny. He was accused of many things. Things that made sense when he inherited everything after his father's dead.
She could have protected him and would have. She would have given up everything to keep him safe; to keep him out of the dungeons. He refused for her to admit anything. He couldn't let her reputation be ruined by his weakness. He was sure he would meet his fate in there. He was sure he would never see her again.
The only thing he could do was push her away to save her. She could move on without him. It was worth that lifetime of happiness spent in only a matter of months.
But somehow, she knew. It made sense now. She had never given up on him no matter how much he hurt her. He never stopped loving her, either.
"When we get safe again, we'll do what we always said we would," he vowed. "When we get safe again, I'm going to marry you." She captured his mouth with hers. She never forgot him when he was in there. She knew it was only a matter of time before the prividlege was taken right from underneath him. It was hard. She was without him. The whole time he was in there, the country was crumbling. The poor were starving and the entire country was losing funds. It was all meaningless. All she wanted to know was that he was alright.
She knew he hadn't meant any of the things on the eve of his father's wake. She knew him better than anyone. He was broken and self loathing which he projected onto others. Everyone hated him for it. She just understood.
Her faith in his love for her may have wavered, but her faith that they would see each other again never did.
With their bodies taut against each other, she knew she never wanted anything else. His sister and the one who told her how to get safely to the Bastille were waiting. She didn't know if she could let go of him.
She broke away, kissing him one final time. They crossed the street to his family and their passage. His sister was all he had after their father's accident. He loved his family with a loyalty that never wavered.
She understood of that as she told her golden counterpart of her plan. She was aware of the immpending danger but she knew there was no other choice. There was just something that told her she would be alright. Time after time, they would always find each other.
"There he would be. Amid all the fireworks on Bastille Day, all I could see was that... Chuck Bass-tard"
- Blair Waldorf
-- "Summer Kind of Wonderful"