The Royal Affair

by SimplyShelbySJL

Prince Charles of England has all he wants, until Lady Blair arrives to Court. She is desirable, provoking, and manipulative. But she is also engaged to his future stepbrother. A game of seduction will begin bathed in banishment and blood. No one is safe.

32. Crowning Beauty

Author's Note: So sorry, it took a couple weeks to get this update out. I was sick, and getting over it, along with having to catch up on work. I put a lot of effort into the chapter though, so I hope it paid off. Will do my best to not keep you waiting as long for the next update!

XOXOXOXOXO

The Royal Affair

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO:

Crowning Beauty

After their bath, Chuck and Blair had retired to her sitting room together. A fire had been kindled; and Blair sat on the fur rug before it, as Chuck reclined with his head in her lap. She was reading to him; a book in one hand, as she stroked his hair with the other. Neither had broached the subject of venturing out into court today or the matter of Thomas Wyatt. Blair was thankful for this, and Chuck seemed content for the time being. So, she didn't push to address it, and he didn't attempt to draw any more information about it from her. It was as if they could hide from the subject, and the world around them, within her apartments. Until they couldn't.

"Lady Blair, a letter has come from your—oh apologies. I did not realize you were entertaining. Your highness." A servant girl entered the room but dropped to the floor in a bow upon seeing the prince. Blair glanced at her, and noted Chuck sat up in immediate response. She knew this was not because he was embarrassed or afraid of being seen. There was reason for this, one that that revealed itself as he looked upon the girl, and then to the letter.

"Who is it from?" Blair inquired, knowing if she didn't, he would. She could tell by the way his body had tensed at the word 'letter;' he'd assumed it was from Tom. She inwardly prayed it was not. Messages were already a sensitive enough subject for them; she feared she might never be able to receive one without it putting him on edge.

"Tis from your mother, my Lady," the girl answered obediently.

Chuck sighed and at the mention of Eleanor, resumed his former position. It was clearly a relief, to him, albeit coupled with a different type of irritation. With his head returned to her lap, Blair couldn't stand, so instead held out her hand for the letter. The servant blushed and cast her eyes downward but handed it over.

"Thank you, that will be all," Blair dismissed. The girl nodded, bowed again, and left the room quicker than she'd came. Blair stared at the envelope addressed to her with her mother's handwriting. So, a letter had come after all, but had it anything to do with the dress? Please, oh please, let it not. Perhaps her mother had never known the dress was for her? Come to think of it, she rarely designed something so beautiful and expensive for her own daughter, not unless it be her birthday or some other holiday. And were it impossible to be a coincidence timewise, she could only hope the letter would still not mention Tom or the gown.

"Are you going to open it?" Chuck asked. She stared down at him and he rather intently back at her. Then, she inwardly acknowledged if she hesitated for too long it may call on more of his consideration. Alas, she relented with a sigh and nod. With her attention readdressed back to the letter, she opened it and began to read; though purposefully she did not do this aloud. Yet, she could feel Chuck's gaze on her the entire time.

My Dearest Blair,

I wish that I were writing you on better circumstances; but the current unfortunate situation in which we've arrived at, is of your doing, not mine. I know that I must speak cautiously by pen. Which I'll have you know is incredibly frustrating and limiting, when a mother wishes to reprimand the wrong doings of her daughter. But I shall bid you to know of which misconducts and apply my words to such, as well as any I may not yet know of. My reports of you and your substandard behavior have been so disagreeable to me, that now I find any news of you be unwelcome. I should have thought you'd been raised well enough to act accordingly when left to your own devices, but we both know this has not been the case. I bid you abandon the reckless path you've set upon, and redirect yourself to the proper, chosen one you've been tasked with. If not, you should expect your misguided actions will deliver you to places of dangerous circumstance. You are a lady of noble birth and average beauty, and yet life has decided to grace you with further elevation. Do not slight such an opportunity for the hope of another, and your own personal hubris. You may yet reach too far. And your fall, should you stumble, may yet be one you cannot recover from. Accept what fate has deemed worthy of you; do not fight against it.

Sincerely,

Your Mother,

Lady Eleanor Waldorf

Blair blinked a few times, as her eyes filtered back through it again. It was hard not to get hung up on words like, substandard, disagreeable, misguided, and of course the phrase 'girl of average beauty' stung among the rest. Would there ever be a time her mother's criticism would not get to her? She doubted it. So, someone or multiple someone's had made Eleanor aware of her relationship with the prince. As suspected, she was not pleased. Her mother was doing a very good job to not say anything directly, but Blair had read between the lines just as she'd been raised to. She groaned, and reached a hand up to her head, to rub it.

"What is it?" Chuck asked, and there was evident concern in his voice. She looked to him and quickly forced a smile, shaking her head.

"It's nothing out of the ordinary. She just has a certain effect on me is all. I hadn't given it much thought as of late, her being back in France. It was foolish to think she was out of sight, out of mind," Blair told him. Though she wasn't sure this would aid in solving any of his confusion. When he sat up again, she knew it hadn't. He held his hand out, and she knew he meant to read it for himself.

"It's just a letter from a mother to her daughter, Chuck," Blair swore, and she wondered if he didn't believe her. Did he think it possibly wasn't from Eleanor? That she had lied to him to such an extent to have someone else send a note under her mother's name? Surely, he did not think her capable of stooping so low.

"I don't doubt that, but I want to see it. I don't like what it did to your face when you read it," he revealed. She frowned at him, and it was now her turn to be puzzled. What did he mean? Blair sighed, and shook her head.

"She's speaking in code somewhat, but it was primarily meant to reprimand me. You may read it if you if you wish," she obliged and she held it out to him. Chuck took it from her and held it closer to his face, scanning its contents. When he finished, he frowned, flipping it over to see if there was any more on the back, and then turning it once more to read through it again. His look of displeasure intensified.

"Average beauty?" Chuck asked with clear distaste for the suggestion. She remembered the line he referred to with ease, as it had struck her as well. Only she hadn't thought he'd pay much attention to it amidst everything else her mother was implying. His eyes lifted from the letter, and she could see they'd narrowed into a glare, though she knew it was not meant for her. She reached out to take the note back from him.

"Do not tell me that is all you took from the letter, Chuck." There was slight aggravation in her voice, but she hoped he knew it mostly stemmed from worry.

"No, it was not, but it was among one of her glaring untruths that stood out. Tell me, your mother, is she blind?" His voice was filled with insult. It was evident that Eleanor's words about her had slighted him. If she weren't so stressed, his reaction may have flattered her. But amid her worry, such words from her mother were nothing new.

"She's just critical. She expects the best of out me and is mostly disappointed. And it isn't even her fault, it's how her mother raised her. She'd have been happier if she had been blessed with a daughter like Serena," Blair retorted, rolling her eyes.

"Blessed?" Chuck scoffed. She turned to look at him, some surprised by this. She'd known Serena wasn't his type, but she thought her beauty would still be obvious to him. He then reached out and snatched the letter back, and crumpled it up; He shook his head, and tossed it across the room.

"I don't think I like your mother. And I certainly don't appreciate her speaking to you like this. Perhaps I should compose my own letter and send it to her with my thoughts," he mused. Blair had to fight hard not to smile at the idea of this, as she knew it wasn't really something she wanted. No real good could come from it. And yet, the idea of Eleanor reading a message from the prince demanding she recognize Blair's beauty was a bit humorous. There was no doubt there that it might even cause her mother to faint.

"I do not think it would help anything, but thank you," Blair dismissed, speaking softly. Her eyes then lifted from her lap to meet his and she saw him staring at her quite intently.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known, and anyone who cannot see that, be they your mother or not, is not worth an ounce of your sadness. Do not ever give her, or anyone else who means to poison you with such untruths, even a bit of yourself, Blair. You need not please someone who tries to darken your light," Chuck told her seriously.

Blair felt as if she might dissolve into a puddle of emotion. She was relieved she wasn't standing, as her legs would have surely given out. No one had ever spoken to her like that. It made her heart swell, and she had to fight not to weep in appreciation.

"Chuck, I—I—I-," she stuttered. She was not unable to find the words she wanted, but she could still not say them. In response, tears did come. And when she blinked, she felt several of them rain down on her cheeks. He reached his hand up immediately; wiping away at them, as he gently caressed her skin. Then he leaned forward, and kissed at them; before pressing his forehead against her and breathing her in.

"Shhhh. It's okay, sweetheart. I know what it's like to have a parent who cannot really see you. That's all this is. I promise. And it is your mother's loss, not yours. Not unless you let her convince you of such an image of yourself, and I will not let that happen. Not so long as I am around you," he reassured her.

It sounded so much like a promise, was it?

Blair reached her hands up and gripped onto his shirt. She nodded, and wished she could somehow get even closer to him. If she could she would climb up inside him, and burrow deep into his soul.

"I need you, Chuck. I need you near me always," Blair asserted, though her voice was strained, almost like a whine. She felt his mouth smile against hers at this revelation, and his hands come up to grasp her bottom. He pulled her into his lap and began to kiss and suck on her neck. It had become their shared favorite form of foreplay.

"That's good to hear, Waldorf. Because you're mine." There was almost a growl-like quality to his voice. As he leaned over her, Blair laid back onto the rug, and accepted his body onto hers. When they broke from their kisses, she smiled graciously up at him.

"I'm yours, Bass," she confirmed. And it was in no way a lie, or a move in their game she'd meant to play. It was only what she felt, in that moment, down to her core. It was as if he'd attached himself to her very being, and fused their souls into one another. She didn't just want to be his, or him to be hers; it wasn't just a feeling, it was a part of her. He was a part of her, now and if it were up to her, forever.

XOXOXOXOXO

When they'd finished, Chuck stood first to dress. As he did so, he looked down on Blair. It always took her a bit longer to collect herself, but he never seemed to mind. She sat up, and pulled her loose dress up around her chest. A yawn escaped her lips, and his chuckle prompted her to look up, her eyes narrowing playfully.

"You should take a nap. Proper young ladies always take a nap in the middle of the day," he teased. When he began to pull on his shoes and coat and it was then she realized he meant to venture out of her apartments. She quickly stood, pulling up her dress. Although they were alone, he had emphasized her need to be mindful of who could see her outside her bedroom.

"Well, it's good I'm not one then. Or have you forgotten my mother's letter already?" she returned with a laugh of her own. Only she could tell by his expression he did not find it as humorous. But he recovered, and gave her a smile as he shook his head.

"No, but I'd like you to. Don't put worth into any of her words, Blair. The stuff about you, or about us. You will promise me this, yes?" he asked, and his face became more serious as he said it. Blair felt herself some taken back by it. He seemed to have genuine concern her mother had been successful in seeding some kind of doubt in her. She supposed it was best not to tell him that she too harbored these fears. Eleanor had a way of getting into her mind. Though she figured that he could relate to; as he'd spoke to a similar experience with his father before.

"I will try my best," she offered, and she hoped it would be enough. He nodded and took hold of the back of her head, giving her forehead a tender kiss. When he pulled away, she grabbed onto him.

"You're not leaving?" She'd phrased it as a question, but it had sounded as a demand. She'd wanted to spend the day with him, especially after how the night had gone. And it felt safer, for both of them, to hide away from everything and everyone that waited for them outside her chamber's doors.

"I have some business I have to attend to for his majesty. He'll be back any day now," he explained. He didn't sound happy about this; he never did when he talked about his father returning. Someone who did not know him would probably have thought he only felt this way because it meant Catherine and Thomas returned as well, but she knew better. She knew him better. One of the main reasons he dreaded the return of the King, was because it was the return of his father as well. And while such a notion in regards to her own father would have been foreign to her, she knew enough of him and his issues with his majesty to know it was not the same. If anything, it was more comparable to her relationship with Eleanor, and yet also not at all. But enough for them to understand how the other felt to some extent. She however, dreaded the return of the new Queen and her son more than anyone else. For she always got the feeling that with them came her end, or at least the conclusion of her happiness. And she couldn't help, but bring this up in some regard, each time she felt this way.

"You mean they'll be back any day," she corrected, and it was hard to hide the bitterness that invaded her tone. There it was. He sighed with clear disapproval.

"Blair—" he began, but she could still not stop herself. She spoke over him.

"Well like my mother said—" And then he, over her.

"See, there you go already. You are thinking about what she said, giving weight to it," he accused. Blair met his eyes and gave him an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry. It just will be harder to not worry or have my mind so consumed by it all, once they're back. Not to mention, when Thomas left it was not on the best of terms with you or I," she recalled.

"And I told you, I do not care what he thinks or knows about us. I am not scared of him, and you needn't be either. Of him, or Catherine," he reassured her. He reached a hand up to her cheek, and stroked it. She could tell he meant to calm her. She sighed, and closed her eyes, trying to only focus on the feel of his fingertips. It was something she'd never admit aloud, but it did work some.

"Come on, little one. I'll take you to your room before I leave, so you can dress. Then perhaps you should seek out Serena, or your ladies, and try and do something fun to pass the time. I'll come looking for you when I'm finished with my meetings." His voice was very affectionate. But it did not aid in making her feel any better, especially not since he would be gone for the day. Still, she opened her eyes and spared him a small smile. Then she nodded and allowed him to lead her through her apartments, back to her bedroom. When they arrived, she watched as he called for a girl to help her dress in something more appropriate for court. Then he turned back to hold her again, a gesture she knew meant goodbye before he left. She pouted her lips at him.

"Don't be that way. I wouldn't leave you if I didn't have to. But there are things expected of me in my father's absence. You know that. I'd have you come along again, but I think you'd be better off relaxing or doing something you want to," he told her with a sigh. She could tell she'd made him feel guilty about going, but the selfish, young girl in her didn't care about his responsibilities as a man, as a future king of England.

"But I only want to do you," she returned, grinning mischievously at him. He laughed and shook his head. Though she did notice his eyes drift to the bed, if only for a moment.

"There will be plenty of time for that later, Waldorf." She sighed loudly and turned her cheek, so that she was no longer looking at him. Perhaps she should have let him leave without a fight, but something in her was rebelling at the idea. Resigned to being a brat, she moved her gaze. Suddenly, she noticed something missing atop her mantle.

"Blair, please don't act this way," Chuck pleaded, turning her cheek towards him. She felt like a deer who'd come face to face with a hunter in the woods. Their previous conversation had gone from her entirely. Where was the vase of flowers on her fireplace? Who had taken it? And where was Tom's note, his love poem to her?

"I—Just go then," Blair dismissed. She pulled herself out of his grasp and walked over to the bed. She grabbed onto the post to steady herself and hid her face from him. The room appeared smaller than before, and she felt she may faint. Had the temperature risen, or was it just her imagination?

"Blair?" Chuck's voice held both hurt and insult, a reaction she couldn't blame him for. They'd had a nice morning, but none of that mattered now. The letter was the only thing that mattered, and where it had gone, or who had found it. She had to keep herself together until he left. How she wished more than anything he would just go now. It was quite the change from how she felt moments ago.

"You have royal business to attend to. I shall be fine on my own," Blair asserted. She tried not to sound short, but had failed. However, she figured it better he thought her irritated with him than realize she had set into a full-blown panic.

"Why are you acting like this all of a sudden? What happened? What changed in your mood when we came into this room?" Chuck questioned and she felt him step towards her from behind. He knew her too well. It was presenting itself to be a real problem now.

She sighed and shook her head.

"Nothing. Nothing has changed. You brought me back to my bedroom. You've done your duty. You may go," Blair insisted.

Chuck scoffed, "You will not speak to me like that."

"I thought you had something to do!" Blair cried, turning around to glare at him. She just needed him to go. She had to find out what had happened. She had to find the note. She needed to destroy it. It would ruin everything.

Chuck stared back at her, some taken aback at her shouting at him. Then his stunned eyes moved to anger and he began his way towards her. She backed up, but there was nowhere to go. He grabbed hold of her, and glared at her, his face mere inches from hers. Then he stopped, and looked down, having stepped on something. Blair directed her gaze to it as well, and saw the green dress from the night before still on the floor. Chuck frowned at it for a moment, before his eyes lifted to hers.

"Is this because of last night? Because of the dress still?" he prompted, and there was definite accusation in his voice. Blair rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Why would I be upset about that again? It's not like it's anymore ruined today than it was last night." It came out before she could stop it, and once it had, she knew by the look on his face it had not been the right thing to say. And were she thinking more clearly, she probably would have realized that. But it was too late now. He glowered at her, as if she had just slapped him.

"Girl, get in here!" he shouted, his eyes locked with Blair's until the servant appeared in the doorway. The servant looked nervously between the prince and Blair, and then bowed her head quickly, as if all the drama had caused her to forget herself momentarily. Blair wondered if she had been listening outside the door; it was more than likely.

"Yes, your highness?" she asked, her voice trembling in the fear they all seemed to hold for him.

"Why have you not cleaned up the trash on Lady Blair's floor?" he demanded. Blair did not miss the word he subbed for gown. The girl's eyes went to it and Blair could tell his choice in words for the garment had confused her.

"The gown, your highness?" It was clear she wanted confirmation before she gave him an answer.

"Yes, the gown. Why have you not thrown it out yet?" Chuck retorted. Blair could tell he was growing irritated by the girl's lack of ability to keep up, and her many follow-up questions.

"I—Apologies, your highness. I did not realize the lady wished for me to dispose of it. I thought she liked it—"

"She does not," Chuck interrupted, and his voice was venomous. The poor girl had no idea what she'd said. But he was often unreasonable in his anger. Blair felt some guilty, but was relieved to have a distraction put forth. Perhaps he'd even be so mad soon, he'd have to leave.

"Shall I throw it out then, your highness?" the girl asked.

Chuck rolled his eyes about to yell at her, but stopped himself for some reason. Blair watched as an idea overtook his expression. He shook his head.

"No." He paused for a moment, and though he continued with orders for the girl, he looked at Blair as he finished them.

"Have it delivered to Master Thomas Wyatt. See that it's returned to him today, and that it's to stay there, where it belongs." His voice and gaze were very direct.

"Umm, of course, your highness. I shall see it done," the girl agreed, though Blair was certain she was even more perplexed than she'd been before. Without a doubt, her ladies would be gossiping about it later, and what such an order could have meant.

"Does the lady have any objections to that?" Chuck furthered, and Blair realized he was speaking to her. She stared back at him, neither smiling or frowning. Then she shook her head.

"The lady does not," she obliged.

"Good. As I said before, I have things to do. Try and better your mood while I'm gone," Chuck retorted. He then left the room without any kind of kiss or goodbye. Blair waited until he had gone, and only when she was certain he had, did she approach her fireplace. The vase was gone, but she thought perhaps the note had gotten left behind. On further inspection, she'd seen it had not. So, someone had taken it.

"Wh—What happened to my flowers?" Blair queried, trying her best not to tremble. She turned round to look at the servant girl as she collected the damaged dress from the ground.

"They were dying, my Lady. I believe someone took them to change them out. I'm sure they'll bring more later," she assured her.

"Was it you who changed them out?" Blair questioned. The girl shook her head.

"No, my lady. I arrived not long ago to take over for the morning shift. But I can fetch the new flowers for you, if you'd like? Perhaps roses to make you feel better? You always love when his highness has those brought to you," she offered eagerly.

Blair wasn't listening to her anymore though. She merely nodded her head, and motioned her off. Then she stumbled to her bed, in need of sitting down before she collapsed to the floor. The flowers were gone, and the note with them. But where had they gone to? And what servant had taken them? Were they taken intentionally or on accident? And had the note been tossed to the rubbish or wound up in the wrong hands? And how would she ever know, unless it turned up? She couldn't go asking around about it. That would get back to Chuck before the memo itself could. No, she would have to wait in agony to see if it had gone or it was to come back to haunt her. Worst of all, she couldn't even come clean about it now. Otherwise, he'd ask to see it, and she'd not be able to give it to him. It wouldn't matter what it said then; she knew Chuck. He'd assume it was so bad, that she couldn't show him. And his trust with her already seemed shaky. She could only imagine what he'd think of her was this to surface in the wrong way, passed to him by the wrong hands. If only she knew what had become of the letter, as waiting for either nothing or what would become of her, may drive her mad. She reached her hands up to her cheeks, and felt the wetness. She hadn't even realized she'd began to cry. She'd upset herself so much, her body had no choice, but to respond. Oh, what was she to do? How was she to manage this, to fix this? Could she? She worried that she already knew the answer. And it was that she could not. She was at the mercy of fate, or whoever had found the note, or both.

XOXOXOXOXO

Dan had collected Master Wyatt from his temporary place of residence in the morning, as they'd agreed to go together for their breakfast with the Van der Woodsens. Tom had been his usual pleasant self. One would never know he'd lost an extensive amount of money to the prince the night before, or been publicly humiliated on top of it. Dan had to admit, if only to himself, he was somewhat impressed with the poet's ability to bounce back. He'd even cracked a joke or two about the evening, as if he maintained no ill feelings at all. Which Dan being wiser to the situation, knew could not possibly be true. When it came to matters of the heart, things were always personal.

They'd mostly made their way through the winding streets of the city, and now arrived back at court. As they reached the stately apartments of the Van der Woodsen family, Dan couldn't help, but feel some intimidated by the grandeur façade, and even more so whom they held inside. The guards let them through, and a servant led them to the family's dining hall. An immediate view of a large oak table greeted them first, and Dan saw the spread of delicacies adorning it was not unlike one of the royal family's. Servants bustled around, as they filled goblets with wine, and set out fresh bread. As another appeared with a plate of meats and cheeses, he heard a servant announce them.

"Presenting Master Thomas Wyatt and Mister Daniel Humphrey for breakfast!" the man called out, and there was a pride way about him that suggested he too felt the family he worked for of importance.

"Tom!" Serena greeted joyously, and she appeared before them, as radiant as ever. She donned a bright blue gown, fashioned from material with the sheen of silky-smooth satin. On the outer part of the chemise was a gold floral pattern that had likely taken weeks to sew. The collar rose higher around her neck than Dan was accustomed to seeing on her. But he noted she was just as beautiful when she dressed modestly as she was when she sported more revealing of gowns. Her long golden locks were mostly let down freely, but some had been pinned up under a matching styled French hood headpiece.

"Mister Humphrey." She turned to him next, and he was not prepared. She did not hug him, but a smile was more than enough to make him blush. His eyes averted from hers nervously, and he nodded his head.

"You may call me Dan," he offered. As he said this, he caught Tom's eye and the other man made a face at him that suggested he meant to tease him. Part of Dan wished he'd not revealed his feelings towards Lady to Serena to him, but then again, they were at times painfully obvious. He only hoped she herself had yet to notice.

"Alright, Dan. Eric will join us shortly. He extends his apologies and seems to be taking advantage of the chance to sleep in with mother away at the estate," she explained with a giggle. She motioned for them all to sit. Serena took her place at one of the heads of the table, leaving the other for Eric; while Dan and Tom took the remaining seats, on opposing sides. She proceeded to gracefully offer them goblets of rich burgundy wine. Both men accepted with a nod of thanks, though Dan could never quite be certain how the nobles handled so much of the stuff, and at such an early hour to boot. When Eric did appear in the doorway, Tom was the first to notice him.

"Late night after you left the gambling hall, Eric?" Tom asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Eric threw him a look, as if the two were privy to a deeper meaner in the conversation the other breakfast guests were not. Then he gave a shrug of his shoulders, and chuckled some as he took his seat.

"I assure you I did my brotherly duty and saw to Serena's safe return when I left the grand hall last night," Eric replied.

"I have no doubt you did. I only wonder if you ventured back out afterwards," Tom elaborated. It seemed to be more of a knowing statement than a question.

"Oh please, Tom. Leave him be. Young men should be allowed their late-night fun. You've certainly had your share of it," Serena cut in. She gave her brother a pat on the shoulder and smiled lovingly at him. Tom opened his mouth as if to initially reply, but then made a face and nodded as if he came to agreement when giving it a second thought.

"I hear the rains will soon give way to the summer sun again," Eric brought up once the meal and conversation had continued. It had transpired into small talk, like the weather, but Dan didn't mind. It made it easier for him to contribute, whenever he could work up the nerve to speak.

"I should hope so," Tom replied, "Otherwise the upcoming festival in town, the one the church is throwing, well it should need to feature an ark in the procession rather than a float." This elicited a round of chuckles from the entire table. Dan wished he could think of something witty, something that would make Serena laugh. However, before he could the discussion decided to shift.

"I hear the King and Queen are to return soon, and with them Lord Grey," Serena gossiped. She brought her cup to her lips, and Dan realized she stared at him as she'd said it. Was she looking for confirmation from him, for more information?

"Isn't he technically his highness, Duke Grey, now?" Eric asked, looking between Serena and Dan as if they were the sole bearers of the information he sought.

"Ah yes, do forgive me. It's difficult to associate the title 'his highness' with anyone else than, well, his highness himself." She enunciated the word much more the second time, when referring to Prince Charles.

"I could provide another word for him, if you'd like. To amend the confusion," Tom mused before he made a poor attempt to hide his grin behind his cup.

"Tom," Serena warned, and her eyes again connected with Dan's. "Remember the company you're keeping, no offense." The second part had been aimed at him.

"Please, Lady Serena, do not mind me. I am here as a friend of Tom's, not as the royal secretary," he assured her. Only she did not look fully convinced. He supposed he could not blame her. After a brief awkward silence, the dialogue eventually continued. They resorted once more to small talk and jokes, some at the expense of certain members of the court. Dan felt some guilty for participating in what he'd usually deem petty gossip, but somehow in Serena's presence it seemed a more elevated form of behavior than when around other girls. He knew this may be because he was obviously partial to her, but it did allow for him to have some fun. However, beneath the veneer of laughter and banter, each individual seemed acutely aware of the undercurrents flowing beneath the surface; the unspoken words that belied the required politeness. But again, in the world they inhabited, nothing was ever as simple as it appeared.

Part of Dan wished their time together could go on all day, particularly in regards to the presence of Lady Serena. However, the easy camaraderie was disrupted when a servant arrived shortly after they'd finished eating; he brought with him a message for the secretary. The arrival of such had a subtle, but immediate impact on the table's atmosphere.

A young man, no older than sixteen or seventeen, his attire simple, but well-maintained, approached Dan with a certain reverence. There was sense of urgency in his hazel eyes, and Dan could likely figure who had sent him before he even spoke. The boy bowed before him, and the secretary nodded in acknowledgement. Dan tried to hide the anticipation he was now feeling, hoping it wouldn't show across his face to the other's. Messages during meals never really boded well, in any household, especially if it came from a member of the royal family.

"His highness, Prince Charles, requests your immediate presence, sir. In addition, there's a call for your sister as well, though it was a separate message. One of your household servants intercepted me on my way here and passed it on to me," the servant informed him. Dan noticed across the table Tom immediately made a face at the mention of his highness. As he suspected, the bitter feelings from the night before had not completely dissipated. A hush fell over the table, and Dan knew everyone else who sat there was waiting to see what his response would be.

He sighed, a sudden weight upon his shoulders. Then he took a sip of wine, now starting to understand perhaps how the upper class drank it at this hour, and addressed the boy.

"Inform my sister that I shall meet with her after I do his highness. I shall have to see to him first, of course." He paused, and then added, with a touch of annoyance. "As they say, duty calls." The inherent responsibility of court politics was turning into a tiresome game for the secretary, a realization that felt somewhat ludicrous given choice of profession. For he knew the prince rarely sent for him without purpose, which meant he'd have to engage in political maneuvering or courtly machinations, and all before lunchtime. Least liked of all by Dan, was the more realistic possibility that he would be caught in the middle of a new royal whim. And he doubted it would be a task he'd relish in. But duty was duty, and in this world, duty to the crown was paramount.

So he masked his displeasure by a cordial smile, unwilling to let the others suspect that his day was about to take a complex turn.

"Please forgive me for rushing out so soon. I couldn't have asked for better hosts," Dan apologized, standing and nodding towards Eric and Serena. He picked up a package he'd brought with him and handed it to Tom.

"Ah, I almost forgot. This is for you. Consider it a token of support for your future work," he offered. Inside, were finely tailored clothes, given really by the prince, a gift intended to further entice Wyatt into their trap. The thought had left a sour taste in Dan's mouth, and he was glad to part with them.

Tom's eyebrows as he accepted the package, grinning at Dan. Setting the box aside, he pulled a small, rolled-up parchment from his pocket and extended it towards Dan.

"Let's exchange gifts then, Mister Humphrey. Though I would suggest you read this later, in private. I feel you shall enjoy it, although you may wish to burn it afterwards," Tom advised. Dan returned a strained smile, anxious about the poem's potential content.

"Does this mean you accept then? I would be most pleased, if so," Dan asked, needing to confirm before reporting back to the prince.

"I am officially in your service," Tom agreed, bowing his head playfully.

"So, you're to write poems for someone other than Blair then?" Eric chimed in, his tone teasing. Serena, seemingly less amused or wanting to spare Dan the awkwardness, nudged her brother with her shoulder. Eric shot her a glare. Uncomfortable, Dan glanced at Tom, who seemed unbothered by the comment.

"Well, I suppose I'm off too then. I have a game of racket ball this afternoon," Eric announced, rising from his seat. Serena looked at her brother quizzically.

"Racket ball? Since when do you play, and with whom?" she asked. Eric shrugged nonchalantly, but his gaze flickered away from hers.

"I've been playing with Sir William as of late, actually. And that's who I'm to meet later today. Well, him and some of his friends. You could join us if you'd like, Mister Humphrey. They're always saying they could use another player. Or you, Tom?" Eric looked between the two men, waiting for their response.

"While I do appreciate the offer, Eric. I must decline. Sir William is a close friend of Prince Charles and Duke Archibald, which makes it inappropriate for me to fraternize with him. Though you should consider an invitation into such a circle quite an honor." Dan said, hoping his words would mollify any potential offense. Eric shrugged, indicating he held no resentment towards him.

"How is it you know Sir William so well, Eric?" Serena asked, her eyes filled with skepticism. Eric opened his mouth to respond, but closed it, as if the answer had escaped him. Instead he glanced to Tom and the two shared a look that suggested they were privy to something she was not.

"Eric is friendly with everyone, Serena. You know your brother; he is a kind, be it to a fault. People cannot help, but enjoy his company. Though Eric, you should take heed not all company is good, no matter how high their rank. Take lesson from Blair and be cautious who you find yourself around, will you? Even in mere social settings." When Tom spoke, it was evident it was in some kind of code. And while Dan felt he could decipher most of it, he knew there was something he was still missing. Serena seemed some aware of this too.

"You know Sir William, Tom?" Her attention was directed at him now, and her doubt. Dan could tell she did not appreciate being kept in the dark.

"Not personally, we briefly met last night. Though I'd say I'm well equipped to his kind," Tom muttered, his eyes focused in the glass of wine. Once he'd finished speaking, he took another sip.

"Enough about them though, I need to be off as well. I'm already late to meet the court musician I told you about. I'd love for you to meet him if you're free later and since you won't be playing racket ball," Tom alluded with a grin. He was clearly leased Dan had turned down the opportunity to socialize with the prince.

"Well, I need to meet with my sister afterward. But perhaps you could bring him round to my apartments later today? If my father is around, I am sure he'd be interested in meeting him as well," Dan proposed.

"That would be perfect. Let's plan on it," Tom agreed, glancing at the door and then back at Dan. His expression held a hint of amusement.

"Shouldn't you be going though? His highness seems to be a stickler when it comes to people showing up on time. Wouldn't want to be put to bed early, like Blair," Tom joked, and Dan knew this had been what had brought on his change in his expression. Eric chuckled some, but it only made Dan feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

"Tom, you mustn't joke about the prince or Blair. He's not just some brute you can speak circles around," Serena warned, her tone the sternest it'd been since they sat down that morning. Dan agreed with her, although he saw no need to echo her sentiments.

"Isn't he though, Serena?" Tom shot back, a smirk playing on his lips. She sighed, dismissing his comment with a shake of her head.

"No, he's not. He's the prince. And more importantly, he's grown quite attached to Blair," she told him. Tom rolled his eyes.

"Well, that's his problem then. Isn't it?" he muttered.

"You best go, Mister Humphrey. Before your friend here puts you in a more awkward position," Serena griped, as she shot Tom another look. Eric laughed nervously and gave Dan a pat on the arm.

"Come on, Mister Humphrey. I'll see you out," he offered.

"Thank you, and thanks to both of you for breakfast, for everything. It was the most fun I've had in a while," Dan told them. He regretted it once he'd said it, as the brother and sister looked both touched and surprised by this. He hoped Serena wouldn't think him dull now. Then he hesitated a moment longer to see if Tom was to take his exit with them, but he'd remained at the table instead. Dan did his best to listen to the conversation that proceeded between him and Serena as he took his exit.

"You're making him uncomfortable. He works for the prince. You should be careful what you say in front of him. Even if he is nice," Serena scolded, and her whispers were some of the loudest Dan had ever heard.

"Quit worrying, Serena. He isn't like the rest of them. You should give him a chance. He's kind, and trustworthy. But anyways, I needed to talk to you about something else. About Blair—"

The doors closed behind Dan and Eric, and with it went any chance at him hearing anymore of their conversation. Dan wondered if it was for the best. For anything he heard he would be bound to report to his highness, and while that was his job, it was becoming increasingly more difficult for him. It didn't help to hear the person he was luring into a trap refer to him as things like 'kind' and 'trustworthy'. Dan supposed he used to be those things, but the more time he spent in the crown's service, the less worthy he became of such words.

XOXOXOXOXO

Chuck stared at his father's chair; and the prestigious desk that paired with it for the King when he was in the royal offices, conducting business. He'd been sitting in it since his father left court, and it still didn't feel quite right. There was something about it that was uncomfortable, no matter how many times he shifted or moved in it. He couldn't help, but wonder if the notion was somehow in his head. He shook that thought off though and pulled out the chair; and took his seat. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. The morning had been off to a nice start, but it had taken a dive the moment he moved to leave Blair's apartments. And largely due to her behavior, which had caught him off-guard. She didn't typically act so nonsensible, and out of nowhere. Yes, she could at times be a brat, and that was somewhat his fault; as he encouraged certain behaviors in her when he found them amusing, but she rarely turned on him in such a way. The only reason he could come to was it had something to do with that wretched gift from Wyatt reminding her of the events of the night before. Because despite her acting like she didn't care if it was rid of today, the evening prior she'd sung a different tune. She had liked the dress. And he'd never admit it to her now, but he had as well; before he'd known who it was from of course.

But did she like it in a material way? Or was it because it had it been from Wyatt? From 'home' as she put it, was the true reason she got so upset when he'd destroyed it?

He wanted to make her forget it, how he'd acted about it, but also the garment entirely. He'd gotten her so many pretty dresses, but now it felt as if they all paled in comparison to that wretched green gown. And of course, it had to be green. It was as if Wyatt, being the poet he was, had selected the color to pair perfectly with the enviousness it brought on. The only way he saw to try and amend or fix this, would be to give her something better, from him.

But how could he ensure it would be as special?

Because while he was great at picking out gifts for her, the gift from Wyatt had been sentimental. The prince didn't have any dresses that held meaning. Some of his mother's remained somewhere, but they were out of style, and he was pretty sure she was curvier than Blair was. It also felt wrong to dress her in a dead woman's clothes. No, he'd decided to have a new dress made for her instead. It was why he had called on the royal dressmaker, to come and see him after his appointment with his secretary. And after the dressmaker, he'd meet with the royal jeweler. Only, he was not to commission another new tiara for Blair. He instead was meeting with him about the crown's collection and treasury, and with a particular piece in mind. It was special, about as superior an heirloom as one could ask for, and likely in all of England. And it had emeralds to replace those she'd lost on the dress from Wyatt, only much larger and more expensive than anything a poet's salary could ever provide. He hoped she would like it, and he felt confident she would. He could see it on her already, and she'd be nothing short of a true vision.

The door creaked open, and the royal secretary appeared. This was enough to bring Chuck back from his thoughts. He watched as Dan made his way across the room, his face carrying an air of excitement.

"Your highness." He bowed and once Chuck had nodded, settled into the comfortable seating across from the prince. He seemed in much better spirits than he had when they'd met before.

"I bring good news, your highness. The poet Wyatt has accepted my patronage, as you suspected he would. I also presented him with the formal offer today, the garments you'd given me, and he let me know he's in my official employment now," Dan announced eagerly.

"Excellently done, Humphrey," Chuck responded. He didn't show much praise, but there was a glint of approval in his eyes. It wouldn't be said aloud to the secretary, but the prince inwardly acknowledged he'd performed well, and could yet be of more use. For if he'd been honest, Prince Charles wasn't initially confident Daniel Humphrey was capable of such courtly politics and plots.

"You shall continue on in your task then, and report all your findings to me. As well as any writings, you should procure in the process. Has he produced anything for you as of yet?" he asked. Chuck knew it was unlikely Wyatt had written up something so soon, but he'd still intended to ask. It had been a few days since he'd read anything new of his poetry, and for some reason it had begun to make him feel anxious. He'd resigned it must be that reading Wyatt's writings made him feel like he had an insider view or at least an inkling of his thoughts.

"Oh umm… no, not yet. But I shall bring the first thing he gives me. I suspect it shall be soon, perhaps later today even," Dan confided. He'd stuttered in his delivery, but the prince didn't pay it too much mind. His secretary was always nervous around him, and not the best speaker, despite his profession.

"Very well, then. I have another task for you in the meantime, if you're up to it. This one should not be as complicated or time consuming though," Chuck revealed. He then opened the desk drawer and retrieved a rolled-up parchment. He held it out to Dan.

"I have a letter I need your assistance with. See that it finds it's way to France, and promptly," he explained.

The secretary took hold of the memo, looked at it for a moment, and then back at the prince. He of course would not read it, but by the way his brows raised, Chuck could tell he was curious.

"Is it in regards to the complications with the Emperor of Spain and France?" Apparently, Dan's curiosity had piqued enough to venture a guess. He was not typically so forward in his questions, and especially not in regards to his duties.

Chuck shifted in his seat uneasily. Of course, he was aware of their secretly aiding Spain, whom had gone to war with France. He was the one who had pushed for it. Given the official order. But this was not something he wanted to get out, or liked discussing. He hadn't wanted to do it. Obviously with Blair being from France it was not ideal, even if he'd never cared for King Francois. This was done purposefully to weaken relations with France, to undo what Francois had intended when offering Blair to Thomas Grey to marry. It was a purely political marriage. Therefore, if he removed the political need for such a marriage, it may be enough to undo it. It just wasn't going as smoothly or as simply as it had in his head. So far, it was just another thing he needed to keep from Blair.

"No, it's not for the emperor. And I'd remind you that you be careful of whom you speak of such matters around. As you'll recall, that is not yet public knowledge," Chuck reminded him, and he'd taken on a stern tone that he hated to admit some matched his father's.

"Of course, your highness. My apologies. I assure you I would never speak about such matters outside this room, with anyone other than yourself." Dan nodded, not needing to be warned twice.

"This letter is intended for Lady Blair's mother, Lady Eleanor Waldorf. It must reach her posthaste," Chuck continued, unmistakable urgency in his voice.

Before Dan could inquire further or even briefly accept such instructions, a servant appeared to interrupt their conversation. After he first greeted and bowed for the prince, he turned his attention to the secretary.

"Mister Humphrey, I do apologize for the intrusion. However, we've been given word your sister has sent for you again. We think it must be quite urgent," the servant informed him.

"Yes. Well, is that all?" Dan asked with a sigh. He was evidently irritated. The servant nodded and the secretary gave a wave of his hands with means to dismiss him. Then the boy bowed for the prince again, and disappeared back behind the large doors of the office.

"Is everything alright, with your sister?" Chuck asked. He recalled of the last time Jenny Humphrey had been brought up, and only because the girl's name had caused an argument between him and Blair. The secretary's sister had found herself as prey to his uncle, and Blair had offered her safety as one of her ladies in waiting. Since then, as far as the prince knew, the girl had been fine. It wasn't like Jack often went back for seconds, anyhow.

"Oh yes, I'm sure it is. She's my younger sister and I am afraid sometimes what she deems important, is only more so when scaled to the size of her world," Dan dismissed.

"Well, I do not need you for anything else. If you would like to go and see her, you may. As long as you can keep with your other tasks as well," Chuck offered. He noticed the secretary's face seemed to alleviate some of the stress it had bore before. Perhaps he did have something going on at home, not that it mattered to the prince. Chuck had enough of his own to worry about and manage without concerning himself with the likes of Humphrey's life.

"Thank you, your highness. That is most generous of you. And I assure you, nothing shall stray me from my duty to the crown," Dan told him, and there was a seriousness about him that would indicate he'd be willing to swear to as much, if prompted.

Chuck nodded, not seeing the need for more words beyond that point. He watched the secretary as he raised, bowed, and even till he'd gone from the room entirely. Then he got up from the uncomfortable chair of his father's desk, and made his way over to the cushioned seating in front of the fireplace. He had only a few more people to meet with, and then he could return to Blair. And despite how they'd parted this morning, in another argument, it didn't weaken his desire to want to see her at all. If anything, he wondered about her more, where she was, who she was with, and what she was doing. It compelled him to have her tailed always, assign a court spy to keep watch on her every second of the day. But that was wrong, and much too like his father. He had a feeling were Blair to ever find he did something like that, it would upset her, possibly even hurt her. And he hated hurting her. The idea of anyone else hurting her, made him feel violent. And the notion of him hurting her, made him feel sick. Both of which, he'd care to avoid, if he could help it.

XOXOXOXOXO

After working herself into a full-blown nervous frenzy, and then back down from one; Blair had spent the two hours that followed turning her room upside down. But it was no good. She never found the note. In either case, for better or for worse, no one had come to tell her they'd found it. Her room was a wreck. She'd have to remember to call on a few servants to help her tidy it before Chuck returned later that day, if he were to return at all. With the day's uncertainty, who knew how everything would go, what was to come of it, or her? If Tom's letter was discovered, it could mean the worst for her. And even if it wasn't, she'd gone and created an argument with the prince to get him to leave. He'd looked quite insulted, and dare she say even hurt at how quickly she'd turned on him. He probably thought her mad. She'd certainly acted as such.

"Lady Blair, you have a—oh my." One of her ladies in waiting appeared in the doorway, but stopped there the moment she'd caught sight of the room. Her eyes widened at the state of Blair's bed chambers. She looked both concerned and horrified.

"What is it?" Blair demanded, indifferent to the servant's opinion about her room's condition. The girl quickly recollected herself and bowed her head to Blair.

"You have a message—"

"A message from who?!" Blair could hardly contain herself. There mere mention of a message made her heart race.

"Lady Serena. Are you alright, my Lady? Should I draw you a bath or put on a kettle? You look rather pale," the girl remarked.

Blair felt a simultaneous wave of calm and disappointment wash over. She sighed, and shook her head. It was just Serena. There wasn't a chance it had anything to do with Tom's note then, or where it had wound up. Which could be a good or bad thing. It was the unknowing aspect of all this that would likely drive her mad before the day was fully done.

"No, I am fine. I plan to take a nap later," Blair lied, "Well, tell me what Serena said then?" She wanted the girl gone; her and her judgment laced eyes. Blair would find someone else to help clean up her room. This particular girl was wearing on her nerves, whether that really be her fault or not.

"She sent word to ask if you would meet her in the grand hall, my Lady? Shall you go, or would you like me to decline on your behalf?" she offered.

Blair was about to tell her no, when her eyes caught a good view of the empty mantle again. The image of it may also drive her insane before the evening came. Perhaps getting away from it would do her some good. And should the note fall into the wrong hands, maybe it would be better that she go on to have one last good day before it all collapsed in on her? She would go see Serena, try and get her mind off of it. There was literally nothing she could do in the meantime, but wait. And she had to get herself together before she saw Chuck again, no matter what was to come.

"I shall go and meet with Serena. You may go about your day." Blair dismissed her without another look. Then she waited till she was sure she'd gone, not wanting to run back into her on the way out. She headed out into the day, bracing herself for whatever it may bring.

XOXOXOXOXO

The afternoon sun now bathed the royal offices in a golden hue that shined in from all the open windows. When the rain had let up, a servant came to open them all to allow for a breeze. It was bound to warm up now, if the light in the room was any indication, and the prince only hoped it would not bring an air of humidity with it. He did welcome the light though, as opposed to the darkness the gloominess of the rain brought. His father's offices were usually so cold and dreary looking, but today the sunlight seemed to illuminate the dark wood paneling of the walls. The entire room looked and felt warmer by default. Still, even with the room improved, Chuck still found his body often drifted over to the windows. He glanced out every so often, pretending to admire the royal gardens. Really though, he was looking amongst the members of court who passed on the ground below. In each face he hoped to find the familiar one he sought, to see chestnut-colored curls bouncing and blowing in the wind. He'd reached the point in the day where not only his mind missed her, but his body began to crave her. It made it rather hard to maintain his attention during the second to last meeting of the day, which was ironically the only official royal business on his agenda. His gaze begrudgingly abandoned outside, and refocused across the room, to Cardinal Wolsey.

Wolsey, draped in religious robes of crimson, and with eyes as sharp as a hawk's, shuffled a stack of parchments between his wrinkled hands. His voice was grating, yet soft, and had this ability to echo across whatever room he spoke in, even though he never yelled.

"Your Highness, the Emperor of Spain's recent request…" he began again, but he, along with their meeting was to be interrupted. The oak doors of the office swung open. Only they did not present a servant with another message, or even a guard to announce someone. Instead, his uncle Jack sauntered in with complete lack of any formality. His blue eyes, similar to the prince's father, but less stern looking in nature, seemed to twinkle as he registered whom he'd intruded upon.

"Uncle Jack!" Chuck exclaimed; his voice filled with a relieved kind of warmness. He welcomed any visit from his uncle, but especially now, when Wolsey had the tendency to drag on. The prince gestured towards an empty chair next to himself.

"Please, join us."

Jack smirked, and acknowledged this with a slight nod as he moved towards the table. His eyes followed Wolsey as he did so, who Chuck noted had yet to greet his uncle. The cardinal's eyebrows twitched in discomfort; the intrusion had clearly unsettled his usual preferred rigid form of courtly protocol. He sighed and eventually bowed his head in slight recognition, the semblance of a forced smile alas gracing his lips.

As his uncle settled into his chair, Chuck noticed his gaze drifted towards the scattered documents that had been placed in front of the prince. A frown marked his features.

"Nephew, are we aiding Spain in the war against France?" Jack asked, and there was a casualness about it, while dare Chuck thought it, an amused sort of smile on his lips. Leave it to his uncle to remain forever unbothered about everything. Chuck had appreciated this about him, especially when he was younger. It made him easier to talk to, to admit things to, much more so than to his father.

Chuck met Jack's gaze with a steadfast calmness, knowing unlike the King there would be no follow-up argument or scolding of any kind. He reached his hand out, and slowly moved the documents in question.

"Yes, uncle," he confessed, and his tone remained neutral yet firm, "Though so far all we've sent is coin. No weapons or troops, as of yet. And King Francois remains unaware, as do the members of our own court, for now."

The room slipped into a brief silence, save the distant call of birds from out in the garden. Then, Jack began a low chuckle, that quickly turned to a greatly entertained sounding laughter. He began to clap his hands together, as it died down.

"Well, well, nephew. It would seem you're certainly finding what it takes to fill the shoes of your father, if not fashioning a whole new pair. As would be your way of course, the true Bass man way. I cannot speak for the King on his return, but I myself, am very proud," Jack proclaimed, and he touched a hand to his heart as if he meant to signal for sincerity.

Chuck smiled back at him, though he couldn't help, but avert his gaze. His father never told him he was proud of him. He only scolded him when he did wrong, never, not even just once, could Bart point out and praise when he'd been right. Jack on the other hand, always seemed to like him. And in moments like this, when Chuck was truly unsure of the path he'd set upon, it was nice to hear from someone older, that they'd thought he'd done well. Hell, Jack had fought in more than enough wars to speak on the subject more than anyone.

"Yes, well, as I've advised his highness, I do believe his majesty could see this as a good opportunity. Should things fare well for the emperor," Wolsey affirmed.

"Well let's hope god is on the side of the emperor then, and not King Francois," Jack mused, and there was a sense of jest clearly intended in how it'd been said. The prince could tell the cardinal did not appreciate this, but did not object verbally. Instead, he sighed and stood up from his seat, nodding to the prince. Clearly, as Chuck had hoped, his uncle's arrival had succeeded in chasing him off.

"I would say that is enough for today, your highness. I suspect I shall not need to see you again before Mass on Sunday." The cardinal said this as if it was something the prince needed to be reminded of.

"Am I not there every Sunday unless I'm ill?" Chuck returned, sounding somewhat irritated. He got enough reprimanding from the king; he didn't need it from the cardinal. He wasn't a boy anymore.

"Of course, your highness. And may your health and attendance continue, God willing," Cardinal Wolsey returned. He then lowered himself into the best bow his aged body could deliver, and took his leave from the room. Chuck noted despite a head nod, he again did little to address his uncle before he'd gone. He wondered for a moment if the two had some kind of history he was unaware of, but brushed it off. Jack made a lot of people uneasy. They just didn't understand him, not like his nephew did. Once the imposing figure of Wolsey had shuffled from the room, and the heavy oak doors closed behind him, Jack turned back to his nephew. His eyes narrowed slightly, but not in a way that made him look angry, but curious.

"And what about your little French fox?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of intrigue. "How does she feel about all this, nephew?"

Chuck felt his body tense at the mention of Blair, even if her name had not been used. He preferred Jack not speak it. Despite how he cared for his uncle, he still didn't care for having anything to do with Blair. He knew what Jack was like after all, and what he thought of most people, which led to how he treated them. Him and Blair didn't need to exist in the same world, Chuck aimed to keep them separate.

"She doesn't need to know about this," Chuck replied with a sense of finality. He shook his head, and his dark eyes met Jack's lighter ones, in a way to challenge his silent inquiry.

Jack chuckled lightly, leaning back in his chair. "She won't be a foolish, young girl forever, Chuck," he warned, and as he did so he pointed a finger at the prince. "Watch out, or she may yet become privy to your schemes somehow."

Chuck's eyes narrowed at his uncle's words, "Are you threating me, uncle?" Even as he'd said it, Chuck realized how ridiculous the notion sounded, but there was something in his gut that'd pushed him to ask. Jack merely threw his head back with another laugh.

"Of course not!" he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Just airing a friendly word of caution. From one man with years more experience, to another, with much less than he." He paused, glancing at the documents on the table again, and then returned his gaze to Chuck's.

"Would you fancy a hunt later, nephew? Or perhaps a stroll into town? I've been sent word a new brothel's come up, and the girls are quite lovely. Some of them even from more exotic of lands." He smirked knowingly at his nephew, as if he knew such an offer was one, he could not resist. In fairness, in the past, this had been so.

Chuck sighed; shaking his head. "I can't today, uncle. I have plans with Blair later."

"Oh? And what plans might these be these?" Jack's eyebrows rose in interest, though his lips pursed some with distaste. It was evident he'd not thought Chuck turning him down to have been a possibility.

Chuck remained tight-lipped as he avoided Jack's prying eyes. He knew his uncle was not used to this side of him, the part of him that had surfaced with the arrival of Blair. And he knew it may disappoint Jack that he'd not take part in their usual lecherous type activity anymore; but the idea of disappointing Blair by going along with it, felt of much worse consequence. He could go to the brothel with his uncle. He could go, and possibly even be back without her ever knowing he'd gone, but he would know. That night, even if he washed, he'd still wear the skin he'd allow others to touch. And she'd touch it, unknowingly, which seemed cruel and wrong. Her touch shouldn't be tainted by bad feelings or any sort of regret. When she touched him, it always felt good, and that's how he wished it to remain. But he didn't think any of this would be easily explained to his uncle, so he didn't intend to try. Thankfully, being the prince, he didn't have to make an excuse for his actions if he didn't want or feel the need to.

Then before Chuck could say anything else, or Jack could press any further on the subject, the royal offices were interrupted for a third time that day. And surprisingly, once more, the prince greatly welcomed the intrusion. In fact, it seemed to almost come at the perfect time, again.

A servant came first, to announce the arrival of the royal jewel keeper. The man entered behind him; and with him he'd brought a cushioned box. He held it tightly to his chest, as if to further signify the sacredness of the treasure inside.

Jack's eyes lit up at the sight of the jewelry box, an almost childlike curiosity taking over him. But before he could indicate he intended to stay, Chuck held up his hand to him, and turned from the newcomer after they'd bowed.

"Thank you for your time, uncle," he dismissed and he noticed Jack's face twist somewhat with displeasure. He was clearly not used to such behavior from his nephew, that which mimicked something like that of his brother's, or Chuck's father's, the King's.

"We shall continue our discussion later," Chuck offered, hoping this would appease him some. He didn't wish to piss off Jack. Both because he liked him, and because his uncle was not someone he wished to have as an adversary.

Jack seemed somewhat appeased, but overall, still taken aback by his nephew's discharge of him. He rose from his chair, and shot a playful, yet disgruntled glance at Chuck, before exiting the room. Chuck noted he'd not fashioned any sort of verbal goodbye before he'd gone. He may need to yet still make it up to Jack, but he'd have to worry about that later. Blair was of more importance right now. Speaking of which, he turned back to address the royal jeweler, now that the prying eyes of his uncle had gone.

"Thank you for coming. You have what I requested?" Chuck asked, and his eyes focused on the box the man had brought with him.

"Yes, your highness. I fetched it this morning, and have had it cleaned. There was some dust that needed to be scrubbed from the jewels, but you shall find it in perfect condition now. Shall I present it for you?" the jeweler offered.

"Yes, you may bring it here," Chuck agreed, and sat back in his chair, as the jeweler made his way over to him. As the man placed his fingertips on the lid of the velvet box, Chuck felt the anticipation in him rise. For even though he already knew what was inside, it had been a long time since he'd seen it. And he'd never seen it on someone, not outside a painted portrait at least. He longed to see it at last in all it's glory, atop a head deserving of it. He desired to see it on someone who matched its beauty, and its elegance, that someone being Blair.

XOXOXOXOXO

Serena hurried down the path as she made her way further into the court. She was running late to meet Blair in the grand hall, and wanted to try and meet up with her before the prince stole her away for the rest of the day. It seemed they had much to discuss, though she wasn't sure how much they would be able to get into, while in such a public setting. Still, she'd liked a moment with her friend, if permitted. Just as she turned the corner, she collided right into someone. Quickly, she recovered herself and took a few steps back, looking up to see who she'd ran into it. It was Daniel Humphrey, or rather Dan, the royal secretary. He was a taller, decently built man with dark, tousled hair. He held a stack of parchments that threatened to topple over. She was honestly shocked they hadn't when they'd collided. He must have been hanging onto them rather tightly.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," Serena exclaimed, and she moved to help steady the stack in his arms. A playful smile crossed her lips. "Busy day, Mister Humphrey?" It was wrong, but she did enjoy teasing him some. He was so quick to blush, and one of the most genuinely polite people she'd come across at the English court.

Dan, evidently not prepared for the encounter, smiled nervously back at her. "Always, with his highness," he replied. They stood there, under the looming arches, for a brief moment. It was clear he would not be the first to speak again.

"It was nice having you for breakfast this morning," she complimented, "Tom really does like you, you know? I should hope you really enjoy his company. He has a good heart, and gives it at times too willingly. Though he does so only because he is kind. It's what gets him into trouble, like with Blair. Their hearts were never a good match. Her heart is capable of much crueler depths than his own." She could tell he was astounded she'd disclosed so much, but she also figured him clever enough to realize she'd done so with reason.

"I must admit I am a bit amazed to hear you speak this way, Lady Serena. Is Lady Blair not one of your closest friends?" he entreated, and she sensed he'd phrased it this way as if to remind her. Either of her alliance with Blair, or of his position, perhaps both.

"She is, and please do not think I meant to insult her. I admire Blair for her strength in regards to her heart; perhaps more than I do all other things about her. But I do not think she'd have made Tom happy, and certainly he not her. She's too strong willed for him," she conveyed. As always, she remained cool and calm in her demeanor.

Dan took a moment as if to think this over, but then got a peculiar look about him. He frowned, and hesitated, as if worried what he said next would insult her.

He sighed, "Odd, I'd only viewed her so far as a girl who wishes to please."

Serena laughed, "Have you spent much time with Blair, then?" She watched as he blushed and began to regret his statement. It made her feel a little bad. She was not trying to be amused at his expense, his words were just not how she would describe her best friend, Blair Waldorf.

The secretary stretched his arm out, and then rubbed the back of his head. "Well, no, not really," he admitted, "And only in the presence of his highness." Ah, yes, that made sense how he'd come to such a conclusion then.

"There be your answer then. I suspect his version of her does not equate to my version of her. And I'd be willing to bet a version yet exists for him that none of us have even seen. Is that not what it means, to be in love, Mister Humphrey?" she prompted.

Dan's eyebrows rose at the notion. "You think Lady Blair and the prince are in love?" He'd made sure to lower his voice so that no one in passing could have possibly heard him say it. She found it both silly, and a little cute. She grinned at him.

"What else would you call it?" She could tell by his change in expression he really had never considered this a possibility. Which meant his opinion of his highness must not be the best.

"I don't know. Well, they are both just so—so—" he struggled for the word he was looking for.

"Meant for one another?" Serena supplied.

"My lady?" He stared at her as if he was certain he'd misheard her. She sighed, and shrugged her shoulders.

"I know he can be a bit rough around the edges, and she is, well the way Blair is to be, but they seem quite smitten; and even with the harsher parts of one another. What else is love if not accepting and perhaps even inviting one to love all of you, even that which others may not?" She surprised herself by how passioned she sounded on the topic of Blair's love life, but she told herself this was really about her friend's happiness; and that was a good thing to concern oneself with.

"I suppose I didn't think of it that way, or of them that way," Dan admitted. However, it was evident he was now thoughtfully considering what she'd said. She liked that about him. He not only listened to all she had told him, but was trying to understand it on the deepest level he could.

She nodded, "Yes, well I am her longtime friend. And you must forgive her for her rudeness, have you suffered from such at her hands. She doesn't mean it. She is jut prideful, at times to a fault." She sensed he didn't have the highest opinion of Blair either. She hoped that would change.

"Well, his highness seems to like that about her," he mentioned. When she looked him over and saw he was grinning, she knew he meant to tease her now.

"As I mentioned, yes. It would seem you're catching on, Mister—oh wait; you asked me to call you Dan, didn't you?" She watched his eyes light up at the name he clearly preferred. She felt guilty she'd not remembered to use it before then.

"Yes, please. And I am doing my best, given my profession." Another joke, and so quickly to follow the first. She was somewhat impressed. His nerves were finally seeming to calm when around her. It made her feel comfortable enough to say what she did next.

"Yes, your profession. It doesn't suit you; you know. Or not the version of you, I've come to know," she told him. He smiled at her soft implication, and when he blushed, she knew he'd realized she'd flirted with him. But the moment was not to last. Out of the corner of her eye, Serena spotted the familiar figures of Nate and William, heading their way. Her heart thudded in her chest, and her gaze flitted back to Dan, who seemed still blissfully ignorant of the approaching tension.

"Serena? You're with the royal secretary, Humphrey?" Nate greeted, though it sounded more as a question. His eyes narrowed inquiringly. "How do you two know each other?" The question hung heavy in the air for a moment, and his blue eyes betrayed a hint of jealousy. This didn't shock Serena however, as he had been acting that way a little as of late. It seemed he feared she was losing interest, and she'd kept it to herself, but she'd wondered if this might be true as well. It was hard to say. She got bored easily. It was nothing against him, but he seemed to be taking it rather personally.

She laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, we just ran into each other, quite literally," she finished it off with a giggle. With a teasing glint in her eye, she redirected her attention and she hoped Nate's as well, to William.

"Speaking of knowing each other, I heard this morning at breakfast you've been seeing much of my younger brother. Tell me William, how exactly did you two come to know each other?" Serena prodded as she tossed some of her golden hair over her shoulder, and placed a hand on her hip.

"Well Serena, we merely ran into each other at court one day, quite literally," he mimicked with a warm grin as he shrugged his shoulders. Nate chuckled beside him, and despite her knowing William had done so in good fun, that in turn irked her.

"Seeing him during the daytime is one thing, William. But do you not think he needs a chaperone when you call for him at such a late hour? Eric is a bit young, even for you and your company." She extended this insult to Nate, and hoped he'd receive it more so than William. Only this was not the case, as Nate looked much less affronted by her statements. Her face fell as William's hardened, and then without uttering another word, he turned and stalked off. It was then Nate did begin to scowl at her.

"I only meant to jest," Serena proclaimed defensively. "Besides, William has a wife. And Eric isn't—" She trailed off, not wanting to say it aloud. It wasn't worth uttering aloud, both because it wasn't true, and why risk it? They were at court; many members of the church were about. Perhaps she had been wrong for even teasing William in such a way.

She sighed, "Nate, I didn't mean to—"

"Always the same with you, Serena. You never think about how your actions affect other people," Nate interrupted. He shook his head, looking exasperated. Then he hurried off, following in William's wake.

Serena let out a frustrated sigh and turned back to Dan, who'd somehow managed to stay silent the entire interaction. She should have done the same. She shook her head.

"He's always doing this. Chasing after his friends, so concerned with what they think. If you thought that was bad, you should see how he is with his highness. It's tiring dating the prince's lapdog," she remarked, and she knew she was wrong for doing so, but she didn't care. She didn't think Dan would tell anyone, even if he was the royal secretary. Her words about Nate weren't exactly any that pertained to national security. She turned to see how he'd received it. Dan's smile faltered, as if something she'd said had hurt his own feelings.

"Yes, I—I could understand what you mean," he said softly. He cleared his throat, and smiled at her, but she could tell it was forced. A sense of formality returned to him that was not there before. "I best be off then, lots to do. Good day, Lady Serena."

As he hurried away from her, Serena was left standing alone. She wondered if something she'd said had upset him, or if he'd just lost the nerve to speak more with her after Nate and William had crossed their path. There was one thing for certain. Daniel Humphrey was an interesting, but odd man.

XOXOXOXOXO

Before she'd left her chambers, Blair didn't even bother to call maid to help her dress for the day. Instead, she managed alone, not wanting to be around any of the girls who always asked so many questions. She'd been intentional in her dress too. After she'd spent an entire latter half of an evening dedicated to arguing about the gown from Tom, she didn't want to give Chuck any physical reminders of it. So instead, she went with one of the colors he'd requested the day before, grey. It was a silverish sort of grey color with a square cut neck; and black sleeves that were striped with white and silver ribbons, sewn in a spiral pattern from the shoulder to the sleeve. It had a grey bodice, and skirt, but the front was adorned again in white ribbon, and tear drop shaped pearls placed throughout the intricately sewn pattern. She hoped it would suit him, or at the very least not be the basis for another fight. As she made her way into court, it felt strange not to have Chuck at her side. It was rare these days she went anywhere unaccompanied by the prince. She traveled down a grand staircase, and through the lavish corridors, until she'd reached the publicly accessible parts.

At first, she received a courteous nod from a duke, which she returned with a polite smile. Then, a subtle, dismissive glance from a countess. Next, a cold shoulder from a lady in waiting to the Queen. Blair was well-versed in courtly manners, and quickly picked up on the subtle, yet numerous signs of disrespect. It was nothing overt, no word uttered, but the message was crystal clear. She was being snubbed.

The realization dawned on her that this in no way had anything to do with Tom's letter, despite her present fears. The cause of this effect had been the previous night. When Chuck had made sure to put their relationship on full display for Tom. Unfortunately, anyone who mattered had also been there to bear witness, or known someone present to whisper to them about it today. The gambling den had been the stage, and their relationship the main act. Now the repercussions of it were starting to materialize, and she had a strong suspicion she'd bear them alone. What was it with today, this week, this case of bad luck that had befallen her? Things had been going so well, but now it felt that sentiment was gone.

She walked on, with as much grace she could muster, and refused to let their disdain show any impact. Yet, every cold glance was a prick at her back. When she'd reached the grand hall, for the first time since she'd arrived to court its size felt intimidating. The grandeur she usually marveled at, was now nothing short of daunting.

But she was Blair Waldorf, and it was not in her nature to retreat. With an air of defiance, she moved towards one of the magnificent thrones and took a seat. A solitary figure in the midst of a court that looked at her like she was a spectacle. She felt more alone than ever, a small fish in a sea of once familiar faces, now turned into circling sharks. As she scanned the hall, she could see the cliques forming, the whispers shared, the looks being thrown her way. Yet, not a single person approached her. No friendly smile, not one kind word. It was one of the most chilling lessons of court politics, and she'd been naïve to think she'd been above being schooled in it. Public affection was a definite double-edged sword; it gained her a prince's favor, but also a court's envy and judgement.

Blair's heart ached as she waited for Serena, and her eyes fell to her lap when she could not bear the sight of their faces any longer. She traced her fingers along the intricate patterns on the armrest of the throne. She supposed she looked every bit the part of royal consort, but never felt more out of place. For a moment, she even allowed herself to long for home, back where people didn't dislike her for who she was, where some even loved her. No one here loved her, save Serena, she supposed.

It was shortly after that thought when came the sound of heavy footsteps making their way down the corridor. She leaned back in her chair, apprehensive to see who was headed her way. Then to her surprise she watched as Tom sauntered through the doorway, extending out his arms to his sides, and bowing his head some as he approached her.

"My Lady Blair," he greeted with the biggest of grins. He still looked, spoke, and acted just the same as he did all those years ago. He stepped forward, extending his hand to take hers, and brought it to his lips, giving it a kiss.

"You are to be congratulated for reaching so high," he continued, beginning to stand back up, but not yet letting go of her hand. She would have yanked it back were they not in such a public place, with so many eyes of court upon them. She thought perhaps it would work out best if she were to go about it with the mindset that unless she made it a big deal, no one else would think to. Whether or not she was being fully honest with herself in that regard however, would have to wait to be sorted out some other day.

Her eyes locked with his, and she neither smiled nor frowned. He was always one to say things a certain way, with exact meanings for why he'd fashioned them as such. And she could guess what he really meant to say to her, had so many others not been around them to see and listen. He wasn't really applauding her for getting to where she had, but rather commenting on it in code. She tried to show little to no reaction to this, wanting anyone possibly watching to assume he'd merely commented on something trivial like the weather.

"Thank you, Thomas," she replied coolly. She then sighed, and leaned in closer, speaking in a lower tone of voice so that not everyone else could hear. A point did still need to be made. And based on how he acted the night before, when they'd first seen each other again, and his horrid interaction with Chuck, there was one way she'd prefer to see this go. She'd like to handle this the easiest way possible, with little to no mess, and no hurt feelings on any side. She was kidding herself of course, but her pride persisted on with her.

"I will never forget that we were once true friends," Blair told him, squeezing his hand a final time. It was her attempt at waving a white flag. This offer of peace at its core was for selfish reasons of course, the main one being she didn't want any kind of scene at court that would get back to Chuck. And she had more than enough to worry about already, and in regards to him were his little love poem to ever surface. She couldn't think of that now, though. How she acted around Tom in front of everyone was of utmost importance. There was also the smaller part of her that was glad to see him, to have someone she was rather certain didn't wish ill will on her, a friend. And someone who had at least once claimed to have loved her.

"Well," Tom began, letting go of her hand, and taking a step back.

"I wish I could forget," he said, almost under his breath, but loud enough she knew he intended she heard it. She would not take the bait, and instead carried on.

"But I see you are raised too?" she remarked, dramatically looking over his new and evidently more expensive clothing and jewels. She quirked her brow at him, knowing certain behaviors of hers he could not resist. She would do what it took to a point to get him to play nice in public.

He chuckled, shaking his head.

"Only to a sometimes and very new to the scene diplomat. I am indeed very lucky to have the patronage of Mister Humphrey, and to be so blessed he finds my works as enticing as he does. The clothes were but a way to tempt me into his employment," Tom explained, twirling the ring on his right hand with his left.

"You see we poets and painters sometimes have our uses. Beyond that of charming and pursuing the women to which we cannot help, but make our art about," he finished, getting that dreamy look in his eye. It was a dangerous look here, for him, and perhaps still for her too.

"Is there a reason you've come to see me today, Tom? One in particular I mean?" Blair asked outright, hoping to move it all along. She'd yet to see Chuck, or been given any word from him, but he was not always one to announce his arrival before just appearing at her side.

"Yes, of course, my Lady," he sighed. And his voice brought her back from her thoughts about the prince. Tom took another step away from her, and extended a hand out again, motioning behind him.

"There is someone I would like you to meet. Lady Blair Waldorf, this is Aaron Rose. Dancing master, singer, musician, and general all-around artistic genius. I believe he is someone who will bring exactly the kind of artistic talents you've been in need of here at the English court. You see he is much familiar with the French court, back home," Tom introduced, and she knew he lingered on that word with purpose.

Out from behind him stepped a taller, more slender man. He had a pale complexion, with dark brown eyes, and hair. He sported a bit of a mustache, and some more hair on his chin. He looked as most artists did, to be honest. Though this was not to say he was an unattractive man. In actuality she imagined if his talents were as Tom implied, he'd fare rather well with maidens here at the English court. She however was just more interested in the culture he could bring. Which Tom typically didn't lie when it came to one's talent. It was likely this Aaron Rose had it.

Blair smiled, sitting up further on the throne, and reaching a hand out to him. This was exactly the kind of thing she needed to happen to give this encounter between her and Tom grounds for happening. She was high up at court now after all, soon to marry into the royal family as most were concerned. It was the job of ladies in high stations to provide and procure proper entertainment and fashions for the time. And any music she could possibly dance to one day, especially played from someone who frequented her home country, was something she'd gladly lend her time and ear to.

"Mister Rose," she greeted, turning her attention and body towards him.

"He likes to be called just plain Aaron," Tom informed her, watching closely as Aaron kissed Blair's hand out of respect, just as Tom had done before. Though if someone were watching him closely, they could see the pain in his face as he did so. His eyes were like that of a sad puppy dog. It was a good thing the prince wasn't there to see it, honestly.

"How could he possibly be called plain?" Blair teased, directing the conversation back to the other man who was new to the situation, and holding it together much better than the former. She was beginning to feel much more like herself, reclaiming her power.

She supposed that was easier to do, when among faces who didn't glower at her.

"Thank you, my Lady," Aaron chuckled, bowing his head again as he took a step back and released her hand.

Blair nodded to this motion, specifically to his hands.

"Forgive me, but I couldn't help but notice you must play an instrument. Something with strings perhaps?" she pondered. She had felt the callouses on his fingertips instantly, but she didn't mind them. It showed he had a skill and dedication to be proud of, something her father and mother had taught her to always respect. And in pointing this out, she didn't mean to embarrass him, but only so that he may further enlighten her as to what.

She noticed Tom smirk behind him, clearly pleased she'd come to this conclusion as quickly as he'd likely guessed she could. They'd grown up together after all, she could not deny he knew some versions of her well.

"Yes, my Lady. The violin specifically, though I have tried other instruments. I paint from time to time too, but my father has a strong opinion of which will get me further in life," Aaron explained sheepishly, eyes dropping to the floor for a moment before looking back up at her.

"Could you play me something now?" Blair asked, both curious to see how good he actually was and knowing with more music there would be evidently less conversation.

"I could not refuse such an offer from you, Lady Blair. Of course," Aaron instantly agreed, as if it had been a royal order. And then Blair wondered if he and others saw it as such, when she asked or requested things of them. She grinned, quite liking the idea of this. Perhaps she should value power based in fear, rather than niceties forced by fakeness.

Aaron turned around for a moment, walking over to a servant that had come with them, who Blair now saw was holding a violin. He fetched the instrument and returned to stand again in her presence and play. She sat back, prepared to listen, and so it began. She was instantly delighted, hearing a familiar tune from childhood she had listened to so often. She leaned back forward in her chair again, smiling as the music took her back to many places she'd not been in so very long. It began its magic as it transcended her back into a state of calmness. There were so many different moments associated with this song, and he was playing it better than anyone she'd ever heard before. And then her mind came upon the last time she'd heard it before now. It was then she felt something she'd not in a long time.

She remembered the sound of it off in the distance, and the smell of wet grass. In that moment the world seemed dimly lit, that hour of the day where the sun has gone, but night hasn't quite fully swallowed all of the sun out yet. She could still recall the warm feeling in her belly, and that of hands running through her long brown hair. She dared not close her eyes, scared she may still smell him, or be able to feel him on her lips. The music had taken her into some kind of trance, and one she knew she must break free of soon. Yet, another part of her really didn't want to. The real world was so much colder, and crueler in comparison to that of its childhood predecessor.

The song finally ended, the vision breaking with it, and Blair was at last able to awaken. She moved quickly to clap in appreciation, as he was a beautiful musician and had done exactly what most artists hoped to do with their art. Her eyes then darted to Tom for a moment and she could tell he'd been watching her; it was clear on his face he'd seen what she was feeling and thinking of. It wouldn't be hard, seeing as it would be his memory to recall too. She couldn't help, but think this had all been orchestrated by him and done on purpose, though Aaron likely an unknowing participant. She waited for the rest of the people in the room to finish clapping and for Aaron to put his instrument down at his side before speaking.

"Thank you so very much. I can see Master Wyatt has introduced us. It seems you have arrived and instantly become one of the most talented musicians at court. I do hope you'll stay. The English could certainly use your talents," she complimented. The devil on her shoulder hoped any of the crowd close enough to hear her, could also hear the intended, though subtle insult.

"Thank you, my Lady. Though you are too kind, I assure you," Aaron responded.

"I am not, I assure you," Blair said with a small laugh.

"But I am honest, and with that I say you are talented. Tell me you shall stay a while and play for my friends and others here at court, perhaps even some of the royal family. I know my friend Serena would love to hear you play. It needn't be today of course, but one day soon." He was definitely her best friend's type. Blair smirked at the idea of upsetting Nate's conquest of her friend after all the trouble he'd given her and Chuck.

"I would like that very much, Lady Blair. It would be my honor, thank you," Aaron agreed eagerly. He then bowed with a grandeur sense of gracefulness and backed away from her, instrument still in hand. Tom watched him go but lingered there a moment longer, and grinned up at her.

"You look like you feel better than you did when I first came in here." He pointed this out with an unmistakable sense of pride. Blair maintained a forced smile but narrowed her eyes, and shook her head at him. She moved slightly closer, and lowered her voice when she spoke next.

"The music was lovely, but that is all I appreciated about this visit, Tom. You'd do best to keep your distance from me, and I say this for your benefit, not mine. But whatever you do, never come to my chambers again, or deliver another gift to my doorstep," she warned.

"That's not all I left for you," he returned, and he too now spoke in hushed tones. They could not go on like this much longer without drawing unwanted attention. She needed finish her point, and quick.

"Never send me something like that again. Not if you value your life," she began but paused when he rolled his eyes. "And especially not if you at all still value mine." This got the kind of attention she sought. His green met with hers as they filled with concern.

"Blair, I didn't intend for you to be hurt. Are you alright? Did something happen?" he asked, and each question got a little louder than the last. She shook her head and stepped away from him.

"It will be sorted, as has been this conversation. You may go. I'm to meet with Serena soon and think I'll see to her in the privacy of my apartments. I'm not feeling as well all of the sudden. Must have been something or someone I encountered. You know I how I can be, and my moods. They're so sensitive to the wrongdoings of others," she chastised, knowing if she guilted him enough, he would leave. His face flashed with hurt.

"You're being cruel. I will go if you wish, but not permanently. I shall come find you again when your royal dog isn't standing guard around you," Tom told her, and she could tell by his tone it'd been a promise. She didn't bother to object to this, it would only prolong his presence. Instead, she let him go and then looked all around the room to see if Chuck was nearby enough to have seen them. To her relief, he was not, and the music had somehow helped alleviate previous court tensions. People seemed less concerned with her, and more consumed by their own gossip and daily duties. She felt a great sense of relief at this, and a small part of her indebted to Tom for providing the perfect distraction.

XOXOXOXOXO

When Serena at last arrived to court, Blair had feigned illness and asked her to help her back to her chambers. Her friend dutifully agreed, and the immediate concern she showed Blair made her feel a little guilty. It was not difficult to act unwell, however. Blair's usual regal poise had been slightly undone by the afternoon events in the grand hall. It was only once they'd reached the safety and serenity of the private corridors that led to her apartments, that she felt comfortable enough to speak. She turned to Serena, and forced a smile.

"You can go on home if you'd like, Serena," she said. "I think I'm feeling better now. Perhaps I just needed an excuse to retreat." She had not wanted the prince to return and find her in Tom's company was the more truthful of reasons for her exit that day, but it had not been the sole one.

Serena's blue eyes filled with concern. "Are you sure you're okay, Blair? And I don't mean just in the physical sense?" she alluded.

"I will be," Blair reassured her, but the words didn't taste like real optimism on her tongue; they were far too bitter. She decided against sharing about Tom's love poem, or how she'd lost it. It would only make Serena culpable after all, were things to take another downturn. It was a specter that hung over her, a burden she chose to bear alone. Instead, she decided to divert the conversation to the happenings at court and her mother's letter. It would be easy, and just as natural, to complain about both.

"Serena," she began, her voice heavy, "I felt such a coldness today, a hostility I haven't experienced before. It was even unlike how people treated me when I first arrived, and I was just that girl from France." Serena's brows furrowed with worry, her gaze steady on Blair.

"What do you mean?" Her friend prompted for more.

Blair sighed, "It's like they've all decided to turn against me, like I'm not worth their respect anymore. Or at least, that's how it would be, without Chuck—I mean his highness." Pain laced her words, reflecting the hurt she had felt from the subtle snubs and pointed neglect from those who were once friendly faces, even if they'd been forced to be such. She wrapped her arms around herself as an instinctive gesture of self-protection.

"And that's not all," Blair continued, and she could tell she had Serena hooked now. "I received a letter from Eleanor. It was some of her best work. She thinks I've been reckless, and I know she means to move me to end my relationship with Chuck."

Serena took a moment before responding, her mind evidently spinning with the implications of her mother's warnings. "Blair," she started, her voice gentle, "Your mother is just concerned for you. But she is far away, she doesn't see how you are, you or his highness. And certainly, she has no true notion of how you are when with one another."

Blair's heart sank further. "It would seem those with eyes upon eyes have turned to be just as disapproving," she admitted. She could not help it. The weight of the day's events was at last catching up with her.

Serena listened quietly before she spoke again, "Blair don't let your mother get to you. She doesn't understand you. She never has."

"She told me I could suffer dangerous consequences, if this doesn't end the way I want it to," Blair furthered, and she knew she was now speaking on more than she'd made Serena aware of, but she could not stop herself. She felt compelled to carry on, to at last unleash all of this upon someone before it seeped through on its own, onto someone who would not receive it as graciously as her friend. Only it was then she realized Serena had stopped speaking. She offered no more words of comfort, and the silence was deafening. Blair looked to her.

"Perhaps," Serena hesitated once more, "She has a point."

Blair felt an immediate sting of betrayal. For Serena to even suggest her mother had been right about anything in regards to her and Chuck, was just wrong. There was no way Eleanor could ever understand what the prince and she had, but Blair had thought Serena at least capable enough to try. Now, despite all the nice words she'd spoken about them earlier, Blair could only hear 'she has a point' on a loop in her mind. She glowered at her friend.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. To say so means to insult the prince, and question his ability to protect me, Serena. Which he does, very well," Blair proclaimed defensively.

"And yet, you seemed so scared of him finding you among the company of old friends today," Serena retorted. She looked insulted by how quickly Blair had turned on her, but Blair didn't care. Her anger had always been quick and fierce, and Serena knew that when she provoked it. With a huff, she stormed into her chambers, leaving Serena behind. She knew her guards would not let her in without her approval, if Serena even bothered to stick around and try to seek entrance. The blonde seemed vexed in her own right. Blair thought it best she should leave then, before Chuck came round to see her anyhow, if that's how she really felt about them.

She'd never be so quick to regret such a wish. For as soon as she entered her royal apartments, her anger was replaced with dread. There, waiting for her, were royal guards; not her own. They were the prince's men; she was certain of this. She recognized them, though this did not bring her comfort. He never sent his guards to collect her, not like this.

"The prince has summoned you, milady," one of them informed her. His tone was stern. A lump formed in Blair's throat. She couldn't help, but fear the words. Tom's love poem had been found, and already passed on to Chuck. She knew she should ask where they were to take her, but she feared she may not even be able to work up the strength to do so before they arrived. She stepped to the side, to give them the lead, but noticed while one walked in front of her, the other trailed behind. That didn't make her feel any better, but only more trapped. But she wouldn't put up a fight, as there wasn't any point. With reluctance, she allowed them to lead her away from the comfort of her home.

XOXOXOXOXO

Dan returned with haste to his humble home, fully expecting to find Jenny in some kind of fit. She very well should be to send him two urgent messages, and one that interrupted his meeting with the prince. Only, as he entered the small vestibule he was greeted not with screams or cries, but the sound of his sister's laughter. He paused for a moment, when he heard another's voice.

"The French Court is quite different from here. They allow for more freedom of thought. I think you'd like it," Tom's voice echoed through the quaint dwelling.

"And you got to grow up there, with Lady Serena and Lady Blair?" Jenny's voice followed; she sounded much too eager for tales of his time back in France with Serena and Blair. As Dan entered, Tom saw him first, as Jenny had her back to him. He turned to greet Dan with a charming smile.

"Ah the man of the hour comes at last," Tom proclaimed. He stood from his seat, and came around the table to properly greet him. Jenny turned in her seat slowly, but she made no move to get up. Dan made brief eye contact with her, before he nodded back to Tom.

"I see you made it around, after all. But your friend did not?" Dan's eyebrows rose in question as he looked around the room for a possible second man. There was not one. It would appear his musician friend had not accompanied him.

"I am afraid I must send his regrets. He met with Lady Blair at court today and played something for her, made quite the impression, as I knew he would. Well, he's much more flattered by the promise of audiences in high places than I. He's off to practice for likely the rest of the night, and tomorrow morning. I promise I shall connect you two another time though," Tom explained.

Dan wondered if he realized that he'd technically just given the secretary intel. So the musician had met with Lady Blair at court, did that mean Tom saw her as well? Perhaps while the prince was held up in meetings? Could that mean his highness did not yet know?

"It's quite alright. I am certain Lady Blair could direct him to richer crowds than I. You may come around whenever he and you have the time. There is no rush," Dan returned. He honestly didn't feel very slighted. It had been a long day, and he wasn't in the mood to entertain. Not to mention, there was still the matter of Jenny to be dealt with. He peered over Tom's shoulder at her, but she would not meet his eyes.

"Well, it would appear I've lost track of time. I must be off shortly. I just wanted to pass on Aaron's regrets," Tom said suddenly. Dan turned to him, surprised he'd meant to leave so soon, but then he realized the other man had caught on to the tension between Dan and his sister. He was doing Dan a favor, clearing out, without Dan having to ask him to leave. Why must he be so polite? It only made Dan feel worse as he deceived him.

"You must go so soon?" Jenny piped up, and for that she did get up from her seat. She rushed over to stand at Tom's side and touched a hand to his arm. Dan wasn't sure he liked it.

Tom chuckled, "Forgive me. I am a wretch for doing so, really, and after you've kept me in such good company while I waited for your brother. But we writers are alas not known for our time management." He retracted his arm from her naturally and took a step back. Dan was thankful for this.

Jenny pouted with disappointment. She sighed, "Oh, well alright. Do come back around though, like Dan said." There was far too much encouragement in her voice. Dan would need to have a talk with her.

"Of course," Tom agreed. He then gave her an informal bow of his head, and returned his full attention to Dan. He moved closer, and spoke in a lowered tone so that Jenny could not hear as she retreated to another room.

"Have you had time to read the poem yet?" Tom asked. And even though he tried to do so nonchalantly, Dan could tell he was keen to hear his thoughts.

"I must apologize I have not. Today has been very busy. I promise I shall read it before bed though," Dan assured him. He felt guilty for not even looking at the poem yet, but a part of him was doing this purposefully. The prince had already asked about it, and Dan concealing it then was enough to get him in trouble. He was only able to keep any kind of calmness while doing so because he'd yet to read it. Once he did, he would have to eventually turn it over to his highness.

"It's perfectly alright. I hope I did not intrude on some kind of family thing here. You told me to come by, and your sister happened to be here when I did," Tom explained, and Dan could tell he meant to suggest he'd only cared to see him, not Jenny.

"It's fine. I told you to come by. Please do again. Hopefully at a time I am more equipped to entertain. And I shall send word about the poem, when I read it," Dan promised. Tom nodded, flashed him another grin, and took his leave. As soon as he'd gone, Dan went in search of Jenny. It didn't take long to find her, as there weren't many places she could hide in their small home.

"Jenny—" he began, but she was quick to interrupt him.

"I quite like your friend Tom." Jenny's eyes lit up with a sense of naivety and curiosity as she said this that Dan knew could mean nothing good. He sighed, and shook his head at her.

"Tom is married, Jenny. And he's nice, but I assure you he's more trouble than he's worth." He needed to deny any foolish girl notions before they could even be planted in her head.

Jenny rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms.

"Who isn't married, really? And since when did that stop anyone around here? Lady Blair is practically married and that hasn't stopped her—"

"Hold your tongue you, foolish girl," Dan chastised, and he clasped a hand though gently, swiftly to her lips. He would physically prevent such words from escaping them if need be. Thankfully Jenny stopped speaking, but she did narrow her eyes into a glare.

"You are not Lady Blair, and you need to be thankful for that, if for only one reason. The prince has made you no promises, nor has he made her any. But you would be wise to not speak of her business, or his highness's, as it doesn't concern you. And thank God for that," he lectured. Only once he'd finished did he lower his hand from her face.

"Perhaps it does concern me," Jenny argued, and she took a step towards him with a sense of rebellion he'd not seen in her before. But in her anger, she'd revealed something to him; he'd not missed it.

"What are you talking about, Jenny? Speak plainly to me now. I order you, as your brother," Dan beckoned, and in his urgency, he'd grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her nearer to him. Jenny's eyes brimmed with further defiance. She did not seem to appreciate his demands, as they were not answered to respectfully.

She scoffed at him. "You have no right to order anyone. You're not his highness, you're not even father, or head of this household. But I'll tell you what I do have, though I'll never tell you where I've put it. This morning while cleaning Lady Blair's room, I found a poem someone had sent to her. It was a love poem, and it wasn't from his highness," she revealed.

Dan's heart leapt into his throat and he did the first thing he could think to do. But he hadn't meant to shake her when he did it, that was done subconsciously from the terrible sort of excitement her words had brought out of him.

"You took something like that from her room? What if she's to find you took it? Why would you do something like that?" he questioned, and he couldn't believe how reckless she'd been.

Jenny pulled away from him, and still seemed unmoved from her boldness. She shook her head at him. "I didn't mean to. It came into my possession on accident, when I changed out her flowers. But I have it now, and it's mine to do with as I wish," she proclaimed.

Dan ran a nervous hand through his hair. He had never wanted to bring any of this home, and had been very careful to keep from doing just that. But now Jenny had brought possibly the worst of it yet down upon their household. He could not let it happen. Their father was not equipped to handle such a fallout, not after how he'd dealt with their mother running off on him. Dan would not have it. He held out his hand to her.

"You must give it to me, Jenny. Turn it over to me and forget you ever had anything to do with it. I shall see to it that it gets to the proper person, in the safest way," Dan offered. He hoped she'd be reasonable, just this once. But she made no move towards him, or to retrieve any note.

"The note did not come to you. It was not yours to find," she denied and he could tell she grew all the more impassioned with each word, "You just want to hand it over to the prince. Well, if anyone is to do that then it shall be me. You've risen high enough as of late, perhaps allow some favor for the rest of the family."

Dan's patience was wearing thin. He could not believe now of all times she'd resort to feelings of petty jealousy, or selfish gains. He sighed, "You are my sister and I say this because I love you. This is not how you should wish to raise yourself in life. The climb is not worth where you shall reach, and the fall is not one you can survive. Do not get involved with these people, Jenny. His highness and Lady Blair, they play a dangerous game with only what they aim to gain in sight. They do not care for whom they hurt in the process." He'd lowered his tone to a whisper, but there was still great urgency in his speech.

"And you think you're entitled to give such advice? You, who bends the knee to Prince Charles every time he beckons?" Her voice was unyielding.

Dan's jaw tightened at the barb. It stung much too similarly to Serena's 'his highness lap-dog' comment earlier that day. "Yes, Jenny, I do know better. Because I'm standing amidst the storm. And this storm, as I've tried to make clear to you, can tear a man apart. Ask Tom next time he comes for a visit, if your brother's word not be sufficient," he dared.

Jenny paused for a moment, frowning further at him. "Tom? Master Wyatt who was just here? What has he got to do with any of this?" she asked. Her naivety was confirmed yet again.

"Everything, Jenny," Dan countered, the extent of his frustration now seeped into his words. "This love note you're so keen on handing over? It's Tom's hand that penned it. Could you not gather an ounce of the danger you'd be putting him in if his highness came to know of this? This isn't some storybook I read you as a child. In the real world, a prince's justice isn't always as merciful as you'd hope it to be. Master Wyatt could soon lose his head over less."

Jenny's eyes widened at this revelation, and he wondered if she'd finally come to her senses. But this hope was short lived. She quickly masked her surprise with a veiled accusation, "And yet you've been helping his Highness, no doubt with this matter concerning Lady Blair and Master Wyatt. All while inviting him into our home, and calling him friend. What is that, if not betrayal?" she rebuffed.

Dan sighed and raked another hand through his hair. He was sure it was to be a tousled mess by now. But he'd not be going out again tonight, not until she saw some reason.

"It's not that simple, Jenny. I am the Royal Secretary. It is my job to deal in matters of state, alliances, and sometimes, whatever it takes to ensure the survival of my household." He wished she could understand, but she was such a child.

"More like your survival," Jenny spat, her gaze hardening. "You seek the prince's favor while telling me to keep my distance? And you're the greatest of hypocrites to Master Wyatt. Perhaps I should tell the Lady Blair of your fake friendship with him." Her tone was dangerously soft, but the threat was direct.

It was clear to Dan she could not be unmoved from this immature behavior. Yet, he could not allow her to continue playing with such fire. He needed to make her see the peril she was putting herself in. The dangerous game she was so eager to join in on was not child's play. The stakes were far higher than she could possibly comprehend. Otherwise, she'd not keep up with this ridiculous argument or reckless path.

He was exasperated, but he continued on to try and reason with her. "Jenny, this could get you killed. If you won't give the note to me, then destroy it, and pretend it never crossed your path. Then do whatever you must to stay away from these people. Leave Lady Blair's service if that's what it takes," he urged her.

Jenny, defiant to the end, retorted, "I will. When you do, his Highness." With that, she turned on her heel, and left the room. He called after her still, intent on echoing on final warning to her.

"This shall not work out the way you think it will!" he shouted out after her, but he feared his words fell on deaf ears. How could Jenny have gotten herself involved in this? What must he do to convince her to retreat from this idea, and this way of life she for whatever reason coveted so much? What was it worth to her? For Dan had saw just a glimpse of what it cost, truly, to live among these people, and he could not see they were truly anymore happier than those with much less. He must convince her this was not a dream she sought after, but a nightmare, before it became real. Before it was too late for her.

XOXOXOXOXO

Under a sky threatening rain, Blair was led by her guards through winding corridors and down cool stone stairways to an area of the castle she had never seen before. This part of the keep was shrouded in shadow and silence, her footfalls echoing off the rough, ancient stone. The air held a damp, lingering chill and the scent of musty parchment and age-old wood. She could not shake off the feeling of time standing still here. The portraits on the walls seemed almost lifelike in their faded grandeur, their eyes following her with a disquieting intensity. She knew not where she was, but the rooms and hallways seemed less maintained. They were a vestige of a bygone era, a silent testament to the castle's glorious past.

Suddenly, a change in temperature as they exited the castle onto an overgrown path. Only when she looked above, did she realize they were still inside, but encased in glass. It was a connected greenhouse, and the largest she'd ever seen. Her eyes took hold of the views all around her, to which they revealed a secret garden. It was like an emerald green gem hidden within the castle walls, now rapidly unfolding before her. The walls were somewhat obscured by wild vines and flowering plants, but its glass panels still glimmered eerily in the lowlight. Camelot roses in hues of deep red and striking pink were scattered everywhere, their seductive beauty masking their poisonous nature. She'd been taught as a child not to touch them. It had always felt so unfair, that something so striking be so dangerous.

Once further down the path, she noticed a quaint shack, smoke trailing from its thatched roof, and the glow of embers visible through the slightly ajar door. She blinked her eyes, wondering if she was seeing things. Could someone actually live here, in a hut in a greenhouse she'd never known existed until now? She rubbed her eyes, and glanced its way again. It was unmistakably inhabited, but by whom? As if to answer her silent question, she thought she saw a face peering out from the shack's window. A pair of eyes glinted at her with an unknown emotion, they were too far away to make out any facial features beyond that. She'd have thought to drift closer if she could, but the royal guards who'd brought her began to usher her hastily away from the hut. It left her with a lingering sense of unease and she wasn't sure if this was in fear of where she was headed, or about the stranger whom she'd not get the chance to identify by now.

The path took a sudden turn, and she knew they'd reached the heart of the garden. It was there, bathed in twilight's gentle glow, that she found Chuck. His figure was silhouetted against the dramatic backdrop of the scenery. It would appear he too chose to wear black today as well. He stood next to an ornate stone bench, and he had something in his hands. She squinted her eyes to make it out. She prayed it was not parchment.

It was not. It was a box. A velvet, antique looking box.

Blair felt her fear begin to subside, but her anxiety did not completely vanish. It only changed in nature, transforming to something along the lines of excitement. She turned around and realized the guards who'd brought her had gone. And when she looked back to Chuck, he was staring at her. He smiled, and she felt herself compelled to return the gesture. She walked towards him slowly and stopped when she stood before him.

"Hello, your highness," she greeted with the tiniest bit of teasing. This was to test the waters. To confirm for once and for all, he'd not brought her here over anything bad. When he chuckled, she knew she was safe with him still.

"Let us sit. I have something for you," he told her. His hand took hers, and he led her to the stone bench. They sat down together, their body's turned inward, and their knees touching. He set the box in his lap, but he still paid her far more attention than he did it. She could not look away from him either. So, they just stared at one another, until one of them could find the words they needed to speak again. She surprised herself by being the one to break the silence.

"What is this place? This garden?" Blair asked, her eyes looking around once more in wonderment. She still could not fathom how high the ceilings much stretch. She wondered how one could ever vault glass to such heights.

"It was my mother's. It's off limits to the public. But I wanted you to see it," Chuck answered, and his voice had softened more than usual. Blair looked to him with gracious eyes, and placed a hand on his. She nodded to him with a smile.

"It is the most beautiful place I've ever been. Thank you for showing it to me. Is that my gift? It is glorious." She glanced around once more at the remark. She could not help herself. It was like something out of a fairytale. She'd spend a whole day here if she could.

Chuck laughed breathlessly and his eyes drifted around the gardens, and then down the velvet box in his hands. He shook his head, and smiled at her, in a way that suggested he was proud of something she'd done or said.

"You may be a girl, but you have a woman's heart, when you at last reveal it. But no, sweetheart, simply showing you this garden is not your gift," he returned. He then nodded to the box he held. Blair's eyes fell to it, and she was reminded of its existence. Whatever it was, she didn't need it. The moment had already been enough. And she hoped she'd conveyed that to him.

"This was my mother's as well." With that he opened it to reveal a crown. It was of a striking design, adorned with a plethora of emeralds that sparkled even in the dim light. The stones were as green as the forgotten corner of the castle they were in, mirroring the mysterious and forbidden beauty of the garden around them. As Blair reached out to tentatively touch it, she could only wonder what its presentation meant for her future within these castle walls. This was not some commissioned piece of jewelry any noble with money could acquire. This was a royal family heirloom. It once sat upon a Queen's head, the most important Queen to Chuck, his mother. And he wished to give it to her. And oh, how she wanted to take it. The girl in her wished to snatch it up and place it proudly atop her head, but the woman in her knew better. Perhaps he was onto something about her heart. For she feared, in this moment it may win out.

"Chuck, I—I—I cannot accept this," Blair proclaimed, and she touched a hand to her heart instead.

"What?" Chuck frowned at her. "Why not?" She could tell he was on the verge of being insulted, and that was the last thing she'd intended. She shook her head at him.

"I mean I cannot accept it because by taking this, I tarnish its value. I am not worthy of wearing such an item. I am not royal. It would return to a tiara once placed upon my head, when we both know it deserves to remain a crown. It belongs on a Queen," she explained. She watched as he calmed some when he realized what she really meant. But still, he frowned at her.

"Nonsense, Blair. I want to see it on you, not anyone else, save my mother, but she's gone. And she's not coming back to claim it. Don't you understand? It belongs to me, not the crown, and I wish to give it to you. I wish to see it atop your head because it means something to me," he certified. She found herself taken aback by his words. She wondered if that were to become the norm. She couldn't say she'd mind it, to be always amazed by him. She only hoped she could offer something of equal value in return soon. She did not wish to feel even more inadequate, as her mother had claimed her, as all other seemed to think her.

"I am too plain for it," Blair denied still, but the prince persisted. He took hold of the crown and held it up to her, fully presenting it to her.

"You are it's equal," he maintained, "An object of such regal beauty, doesn't need to grace the head of someone assured of it by mere title. It needs to be worn by someone who commands such on her own, because her beauty, alike it's, would have no less. Yours does this, whether you realize it yet or not. I do, and it does. And something as beautiful as this, only deserves to be seen on someone worth of its beauty. On you." His dark eyes bared into hers with a meaningful intensity she knew would not allow him to retreat from these feelings. These feelings, about her.

He took hold of her hand again and stood. "Come here," Chuck instructed tenderly. He then smirked at her for a moment, as if he could not help himself. "Kneel for me, Waldorf."

She stared at him for a moment, a small part of her worried it may be a trick. But the look he gave her quickly confirmed it was not. She smiled back at him, and did as he asked. The grass was soft, plush to the point of feeling like a cushion. She looked up at him and he held the crown above her head with both of his hands. Then he placed it gently atop her head. She beamed up at him. She would never admit what she'd do for a mirror to have seen it all for herself. But as she looked into his eyes instead, something told her the view in them was better.

XOXOXOXOXO

A/N: So, this was my longest chapter I think (44 pages), which I figured you guys deserved after graciously waiting for it this long. I am again so sorry and will try to get back to updating more frequent now that I'm feeling better. Please let me know if you liked the chapter! I put a lot of work into it. Almost made it into a part one and part two, but ultimately decided to post it all as one! Hope it didn't overwhelm anyone with the length, feel free to break it up!