Chapter Fifteen:

The Royal Banquet

Whitehall Palace, London

Chuck's eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the dimly lit room. It was still dark out, but the fire was keeping the place somewhat illuminated, and definitely warm. He turned, resting his cheek to his pillow and gazing down at Blair. She was holding onto him in her sleep, she had been all night. He could tell she was on edge after being questioned. In fairness, most in her position would feel this way, but now there was nothing else for her to be distressed about. He had never fully believed she could be involved with something like plotting his murder, but his cousin on the other hand—Still why had that bastard brought Blair into it at all? Chuck had to question her whether he wanted to or not, for the rumors at court would circulate either way.

He frowned, sighing, and then wincing at the still sharp pain in his rib cage. The reminder of pain was not only a constant discomfort for him, but also proof he wasn't having any of his usual fun for at least a few weeks. He imagined he'd be quite bored before he was fully healed up. He couldn't go riding, hunting, play tennis, or joust. Worst of all he wouldn't be able to keep up with Blair's and his usual private activities. Why he had no doubt they would still find ways to entertain each other, Chuck wouldn't be able to take relief in his usual, preferred methods with her. In fact, he had just been building up to it before the accident. He was trying to ease her into it, prepare her for some of the things the prince really enjoyed. Typically if he had a woman like Blair, proper and delicate, he'd have his way with her once and take out his more carnal desires on some of his favorite court courtesans. But he didn't want to do that with Blair, seek the bed of another. Maybe for other reasons he couldn't yet admit to himself, or perhaps because part of him wanted to see how she could handle it, if she could handle it.

Either way though, now because of him that was all put on hold too. He clenched his teeth, thinking of what he could do in that very moment had he not had a broken rib, and been all bruised up.

Chuck scoffed. Perhaps this was how women felt when they were with child and their husbands sought out mistresses to fulfill their bedroom duties in their absence. It wasn't their fault they were pregnant, and it definitely wasn't Chuck's fault he was hurt. Well, at least he hadn't been born a woman. Even if he couldn't keep up with his usual sexual escapades, Blair wouldn't go seeking it from someone else. Not if she were smart, at least. While technically she was not his mistress or bound to him by marital law, him being a prince did have its advantages.

No, the little brunette minx would have to wait until he was back in the running, so to speak. Only… just because she couldn't physically drift from him, didn't mean it weren't impossible for her to do so in another sense—like emotionally or mentally. He didn't want her to get bored. It was clear part of the reason she liked him was because he let her do and say things others wouldn't permit. He'd have to find things for them to do other than having her sit there in his bedroom with him, but what?

Chuck turned, observing her again. She was still sleeping soundly, but her grip on him remained quite tight. He reached his hand out, gently stroking her naturally rosy cheek.

"You're still scared someone's going to come in and take you away from me, aren't you, little one?" he whispered.

She didn't respond, but only continued on in her seemingly deep slumber.

"That won't happen, I promise." He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the sweet smell of her mahogany colored curls. The scent of her natural fragrance was simply intoxicating. It was soothingly familiar to him, yet at the same time he could not recall anything that ever smelled so good. It was almost enough to distract him from his thoughts. In a way, Blair was his greatest distraction, but one he sought regularly. Still though, he had a feeling there was something he was missing about her.

When he had gone to speak with the Captain he had returned to find her not in the bed, or exactly in view. Instead she had wrapped herself up in blankets, hiding over by the fire, masked from view behind the large oak chest. It was then he realized how much this whole little ordeal had frightened her. He just wasn't sure why it had done so to such an extent. He had merely questioned her in his own room, after all. It wasn't like he had sent her to the tower to be beaten and berated—only mentioned it.

And what would Blair really know about the horrors confined in the Tower of London?

Sure there were public executions that ran outside of it, but he doubted she'd ever attended any of those. She was from France, and he wasn't entirely sure she'd ever even been to any part of England before. Still though, something about it had spooked her. There were layers to her he was still unraveling, parts he couldn't yet figure out. It was oddly both something that frustrated and intrigued him at the same time.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Whitehall Palace, London

Blair gazed out the large stone windows of the palace as the rain outside continued to pour. It had been carrying on like this for a few days time now. It seemed as if the rain had come in with the attempt on Chuck's life, and might not be leaving until it was all sorted out. Draven was still in custody from what she could figure out around court. She wouldn't dare ask Chuck about it, or even mention his cousin's name in his presence anymore. While Chuck didn't seem to care to get too into discussion about it, it was apparent he had deemed Draven guilty. He didn't even want a trial, but that wasn't his decision—it was the king's. And chuck wasn't king, not yet.

She took a step back from the window, some of the precipitation starting to make its way inside now. London was so damp and dreary sometimes, and often for days on end. It made Whitehall Palace, despite desirably closer to the city, definitely not the favorite castle of hers they'd stayed at.

Blair heard whispers behind her and turned to see a group of women passing her in the hallway, every one of them blatantly staring her down as they did. She didn't even bother to glare in return, but instead turned her back to them almost immediately. The stares and whispers were worse since Draven had been arrested. Members of the court had obviously seen them conversing prior to the incident. She tried not to pay it too much mind though. These people already didn't want to like her for several other reasons. It was much easier her for to worry herself with the single opinion of a prince, rather than the hundreds of opinions belonging to those of lower ranking members of court.

Speaking of which, she wondered where Chuck was in that moment. He couldn't be too far, given his current condition. He still had quite sometime before he would be fully healed up, and able to return to all his usual pasttimes. It had only been about a week so far and already she could tell how irritable he grew due to all the rules and limitations the injuries brought. There were only so many things he could do while his ribcage healed, and she was finding the prince didn't do well with restrictions.

Typically being in London she would have suggested they go to the theatre, but the king would never allow it while the case of Chuck's attempted assassination carried on. He could not go hunting with his friends, or play tennis with Nathaniel. For the first couple of days his various hanger-ons (as Blair referred to them) had tried to appease him, but by day three they too were restless. So now all there really was to do was kill time around the palace during the day, and rather repetitive diversions followed each night. It seemed like every evening there was another banquet in the great hall now. It was filled with loud music, dancing, which of course Chuck could not currently partake in, endless amounts of food and drink, and as always gambling.

Since Chuck was limited from most of the lively activities of these gatherings, he would seemingly try to make up for it by over indulging in the other parts of it. She had never seen him act this way; it was lavish even for him. On some nights he had drank so much wine that it took the help of Nate or his servants to get him back to his chambers. Moreover she had lost count on how much money he'd gambled away in that time. She wondered if the king knew said amount. Probably not, he was clearly the one attending to the more serious matters at hand. Chuck however, carried on almost as if nothing mattered. It seemed in the small way control had been taken from him caused an almost spiral like affect in other areas of his life. He was acting out, and it wasn't always the easiest to deal with.

"Lady Blair?"

The voice startled her, relinquishing her from her thoughts. She turned around swiftly to see Thomas standing there, looking at her quite curiously. He smiled sort of sheepishly when she made eye contact with him.

Thomas wasn't a bad looking man, only a soft looking one. In all the ways Chuck appeared dark, mysterious, and seductive…Thomas was conventional, modest, and restrained. He was different in all the wrong ways, but most of all—he wasn't the prince. At least that's what she continued to tell herself…

"Lady Blair, are you alright?" he spoke again.

She nodded, "Of course, I've given no indication I'm not." She could be less blunt with him, if she had cared more about his feelings.

For some reason today though her short responses didn't seem to bother him as much. Instead he seemed to sort of chuckle, and take another step towards her.

"Forgive me for being forward, but I've noticed something off about you lately. You look quite—quite—"

Blair frowned, feeling her heartbeat quicken.

Was he about to accuse her of something?

She interrupted him swiftly, "Quite what, my Lord?"

Thomas shrugged his shoulders, sighing.

"Quite bored, actually. You've attended the festivities every night yet you haven't danced like you did upon first arriving to court, like you did when we first met—" He stopped himself, blushing as his eyes fell to the floor.

Blair smiled to herself, admittedly at his expense.

"I did not realize you enjoyed my dancing so much, Thomas. It is not as if you have asked for my hand for many dances since being at court," she teased. She couldn't help it. She wasn't flirting with him, but rather just enjoying getting to toy with him a little. She had been stuck inside with the rain, and around nothing but drunk, unruly men for more than a few days. Along with people at court being additionally more unfriendly than usual, she just wanted some fun and any kind of conversation.

"I'm not much of a dancer, my lady. You however though, are very much so. It would be an insult to he in heaven were I to try and permit your gift just because we do not share it. I had thought that known though. Forgive me if it came across otherwise," Thomas explained. Cautiously his eyes met hers again. His confidence was up and down frequently throughout their conversations.

Blair stared at him, not exactly smiling or frowning, but appearing somewhere in between. What he had said was actually sort of sweet, but she wasn't looking for pleasantries from him.

"Have you tried dancing much?" She deflected with a question. The best way she figured to deal with his compliments were to find ways to avoid them. She then began to walk again, it taking him a few moments before proceeding to catch up with her. He awkwardly found a way to maintain a steady pace beside her in the hallway.

"No, my lady. I've always been shy about asking," he admitted.

She giggled a little. "Imagine that."

"Will you dance tonight then? As your fiancé, I would find tonight's redundant festivities much more appealing were you to not look so—weary, again." He wasn't looking at her anymore, instead staring forward as they made their way down the corridor.

Blair was thankful for this, for when the word fiancé left his lips it had put an awfully poor taste in her own mouth. She was sure she had made a face at this in response.

"How can one expect a lady to dance, if he himself cannot even ask her to?" she questioned, trying to move the conversation along.

Suddenly, he got in front of her, bringing both of their walking to a sudden halt. It startled her enough that finally he had her full attention.

"I'm asking now, my lady," he corrected. Then his eyes fell once more, his sheepishness returning.

"In my way," Thomas clarified.

Blair looked around to see if anyone was watching them, and people definitely were. It wasn't as if she shouldn't be seen with her fiancé in public, quite the contrary actually, but she didn't want whispers of it to reach certain ears. She needed to hurry along the discussion before the wrong person saw her, or a certain person came looking for her.

"I will consider your request, my Lord. But I can make no promises," Blair told him, bowing her head some as if to signify the end of the conversation.

He smiled, the grin stretching from ear to ear as if he'd won some sort of prize. He nodded, "Of course, that is all I ask. I hope I have not taken up too much of your time, Lady Blair."

She held herself back from rolling her eyes. She didn't want to hurt his feelings when he was only being nice, but he was just so—so lacking in self-confidence and assertiveness it was hard not to find him imbecilic at times. Instead, she settled with a sort of bratty sigh.

"It wasn't an extremely long dialogue, Thomas. You should not be so bashful. You are to be a prince one day, even if just by marriage," she found herself lecturing him before she could help it. Following her words, she bit down on her lip almost instantly, then realizing how out of turn they were. She was allowed to speak like this with Chuck, but clearly that had caused her to forget herself in front of others. Sure it was just Thomas, but he was gazing up at her now, with at least enough confidence to look her in the eyes. Perhaps even he could be pushed.

"Would it suit you if I were more assertive, Lady Blair? I sometimes sense that you are not so keen to my—well my tender nature." He was speaking in a low, quieter tone now. He was standing closer to her too. It was evident he didn't want others to hear their conversation either. Though for him it was more likely due to the intimate makeup of the conversation.

Blair was somewhat surprised by his forwardness, even if he did it in such a reserved way. She shook her head.

"Men do not suit themselves to fit women, my Lord. A man's nature is exactly as it implies, that within him. You are what you are. I cannot wish, or want for anything otherwise." When Blair said this she thought of Chuck, and again how different they were. Chuck would never even think to engage in such a discussion.

Thomas nodded, looking disappointed. Then he turned to leave, but stopped himself once more, turning back to her momentarily.

"Please do not take offense, my Lady. But it seems at times that you do wish and want for more, for otherwise—as you put it. And perhaps I only mean to suggest that you are overlooking places in which you could receive it. We are to be wed; you are to be my fiancée. All I want in this world is to bring you comfort, and make you happy." With those final words he gave somewhat of a parting bow to her and then left as swiftly as he came.

Blair watched as he walked away from her, trying to digest the entire experience. It was an odd conversation, though in fairness they hadn't spoken a whole lot—and definitely not much one on one. For the most part she tried to avoid him, and anytime they did happen to cross paths Chuck or one of his mates would typically interrupt them.

Her eyes scanned around the corridor once more for a familiar face. Though she saw members of court she recognized, there was no one lingering directly from his posse, at least not within her view. Perhaps she could just bury the peculiar conversation and avoid an altercation with Chuck. It wasn't like he could hold her speaking to Thomas against her, but he was in such a foul mood lately that she was sure it would be a squabble either way. No, she would try and conceal it. She didn't consider it lying to him exactly, but rather just not omitting information for its lacking in relevancy. Her conversation with Thomas had thrown her a bit, but it in no way effected her feelings towards Chuck, or even Thomas really overall. No, it would be best to keep it to herself—at least until Chuck was healed up, or in better spirits.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The Grand Royal Banquet

Whitehall Palace, London

A few hours later it was dark out. Despite the gloomy and rainy atmosphere outside though, inside was entirely the contrary. The great hall was lively with loud music, laughter, and exuberant conversation. There was another grand royal banquet going on tonight and despite it becoming a bit of a regular occurence, no expense had been spared.

Blair had spent most of the afternoon in her chambers, reading and keeping to herself. She wouldn't admit to herself that she wasn't actively seeking Chuck out, but rather that if he wanted some alone time then he should have it. Whatever he needed to better his mood, short of entertaining other women, she'd comply with. He must have found something to occupy himself with too seeing as how he hadn't sought her out for most of the day, or come to her before the festivities started. She had received word from her ladies that Thomas had asked if she'd like an escort to the grand hall tonight, but she had declined. She used the excuse that she would be arriving late, deciding she would take more time than usual to get dressed. Being the way he was, he left it at that, and for once she found herself thankful for his beta nature. She still had it set in her mind not to tell Chuck about her and Thomas's strange chat earlier that day.

Could it be she was now avoiding both of them?

As she made her way down the corridor, getting closer to the grand hall, she made sure to carry herself with pride. She was wearing the most beautiful of dresses, a gift from Chuck. It was a satiny gold material with a royal looking floral pattern stitched throughout it. The dress had a sweetheart neckline, showing off her bust area more than most. It also hugged particularly tight around her waist, highlighting her petite, yet curvy frame rather well. The sleeves were bell style, further complimenting the dramatics of the gown. With it she wore a gold and pearl necklace, with matching drop pearl earrings, and her hair fell in loose curls down her back. The only way the outfit could have been anymore stunning, were if there had been a crown atop her head. She smiled to herself, allowing herself to succumb to the dream—if only for a few moments.

Then she stopped before the large oak doors of the grand hall and took a deep breath, straightening out her posture, and holding her head high.

The servants bowed their heads to her, moving escort her through. Instantly the warmth and noise of the room enveloped her. She began to gracefully make her way through the room, her eyes gradually taking it all in. As she had expected, it was nothing short of sumptuous.

She stopped not too far from the dance floor, admiring the spectacle of it all. There was a full band; every instrument one could imagine or hope to hear was present. They were playing on excitedly as members of the court danced gleefully. Her body ached to take just a few more steps forward and join them in their merriment. Alas she restrained herself, for she had no partner to dance with, not while Chuck was still healing. She turned away from the dance floor, turning any disenchanted feelings about it inward.

She continued to make her way further into the room, overlooking more of the details to distract herself. The smell of sweet smoke in the room indicated that surely somewhere gambling was taking place. Undoubtedly that's where Chuck was, him, Nate, and the others. She had no desire to rush towards it for she had sat through so many card games as of late. Women weren't really supposed to be big gamblers in public, and she had never been one to enjoy simply watching.

Finally she reached the large banquet tables, signaling she was not far from the royal tables, or Chuck's throne. The feast was quite a sight, filled with food and drink so exorbitantly expensive that only the richest of people could afford to supply it in such vast numbers, especially night after night. There was a spit-roasted wild boar as the centerpiece, along with other meat carvings of various animals. There were even whole roasted peacocks, dressed as a delicacy with it's own iridescent blue feathers and it's beak gilded in gold leaf. More towards Chuck's table, the Royal table, there were even roasted swans. Blair had always found them to be too beautiful of creatures for one to eat, but she knew they were considered a royal delicacy. The cooked bird had been topped with a small gold crown upon its head for presentation, after all. To wash all that food down endless barrels of wine and ale were provided to anyone present, which caused for quite the drunken spectacle as the evening carried on.

Blair couldn't help, but look forward to later in the night when those who whispered and gossiped about her began to make drunken fools of themselves in public. It was only some kind of karmic justice for her to get to delight in their misfortune, at least in that sense.

She noticed one final table dressed most opulently with fabrics and floral arrangements. The English were not as extravagant or big on their desserts as they had been back in France, something she had expressed her disappointment in to Chuck. However, tonight there seemed to be a table specifically designated for sweets and she couldn't help but wonder if it were a gesture from him.

She walked around it, admiring the practically artistic skill that had been put into it all. There were large, intricate castles built out of marzipan. The castles were surrounded by various fantastical looking beasts, which appeared to be made out of spun sugar and wax. She had never seen anything like them.

"They're for you. Do you like them?"

She felt his breath upon her neck, it already laced with the scent of wine. It was evident he had began drinking long before the banquet that evening. It was likely not a coincidence she hadn't seen much of him that day. He took hold of her waist, bringing her closer to the dessert display. Her eyes lit up further at the sight of it, now knowing for certain it was all done for her.

"They're beautiful, Chuck—splendidly marvelous. I dare say I could not dream them up if I tried," she complimented.

He seemed very pleased with her liking of them. A wide smile stretched across his face, and he turned her leading her towards the royal table.

"I wanted to show you my appreciation for accompanying me so much lately, despite the frivolous activities we've had to succumb to," he explained.

She felt herself blush at his words; her cheeks warming before she'd had a drop of alcohol.

"I always enjoy myself in your presence, your highness." It wasn't a complete truth, but enough of one that she didn't feel wrong in stroking his ego with it.

"Chuck," he corrected.

Blair nodded, "Chuck."

He tipped her chin upwards with his hand, motioning up to their table with his other.

"You may go ahead and be seated if you like. I am sure you're hungry and thirsty after arriving so late tonight—" he paused, his hand dropping for a moment.

"What was it that kept you?" Chuck asked, quirking his brow at her.

Blair shook her head. "It was nothing you need worry yourself with. I only wanted some time to myself today, and took longer in my preparations for the evening than expected. I must say I was rather pleased with the results of it—though perhaps it is your opinion I should be asking for?" She gave him a rather coy smile, batting her eyelashes at him. She was both flirting and averting his attention away from her activities that afternoon. She wanted to steer the conversation clear of any reasoning or needing to mention her time with Thomas.

Chuck looked her up and down, putting his hand to her waist again.

"I approve, Waldorf. You know I like this dress," he praised, running his fingertips along the stitching of it. "I'd like to further examine it later, in private, where I can truly appreciate its fine detail."

"I'm sure you would, and who am I to deny his royal highness of a requested audience with a mere lady, such as myself?" She was teasing him, in this sense he would let the use of his title slide.

"You're anything, but a mere lady," he rasped, leaning in closer to her. She put a hand to his chest, reminding him of a certain distance they needed to keep in public. Not to mention somewhere in the back of her mind she recalled that Thomas had mentioned attending this banquet. He could very well be there, watching them now. There was only so much public humiliation you could put a man through, even a meek one like Thomas.

Chuck glared down at her hand on his chest, barricading the rest of her from his touch. He was also aware they were in public, but with both the large amounts of wine he had consumed and his arrogant attitude he didn't seem to care.

"It's rude to reject someone after they've just given you a gift, Blair. Especially when that someone is the prince," he growled, reaching out to a servant for a new cup of wine. One hurried over to him, fetching him a cup and filling it quickly. He then snatched another off a nearby tray, holding it out to her.

"Drink, darling. I think you may need to loosen up some," he suggested, though it sounded more like a command.

She took the glass, not wanting to argue with him. He was even more inebriated than she'd initially realized when greeting him. It was frustrating for it made him even harder to reason with in his disgruntled state.

"Will you accompany me to the table? I do not wish to eat and drink alone," she beseeched him. She attempted to turn back towards pleasantries.

He shook his head. "I have a card game to return to first. Besides I've been up there all-night, eating and drinking. It seems it is all there is to do anymore. Earlier Nate teased if I'm not careful I'll be renamed from "consumer of wine and women" to "consumer of food and women"." He spoke with an obvious disdain towards the comment. Chuck didn't like being teased, and as a prince he wasn't used to it. It was crystal clear to all those close to him, more now than ever, that he was not equipped to being at any kind of disadvantage.

Still, Blair frowned at the comment, feeling somewhat insulted.

"Consumer of women?" she repeated, evident displeasure now in her voice.

Chuck sighed, "Please, go and sit, Blair. I will try and not let the game carry on too long. Though you know it is later in private when we can be more open to one another."

She bit her tongue, crossing her arms, and shaking her head.

"Return to your game then, I can see to providing myself with food and drink. I think I may make my way around the festivities more, truly appreciate them." She answered this way purposely, both listening to him, yet also disregarding his wishes. She knew he wanted her up at the royal table because there no one would approach her, there she would be guarded and off-limits to other members of court. She had grown tired of this though, waiting on him while he drank and gambled into the night.

He took hold of her arm, leaning in closer to her to speak.

"It is long past dinnertime, Blair. You should sit and eat before gallivanting around the party, on your own no less. It wouldn't be the proper thing to do—"

She scoffed, "Since when do you care about the proper thing to do, Chuck? Is it not you who usually advises against it?" Her tone was somewhat mocking.

His nostrils flared some, and she watched as his temper began to set in, starting in his eyes. He grabbed hold of her hand, somewhat roughly, but not violently. Then he began to pull her up the steps, forcing her towards the royal table. She could not protest or stop him without causing a scene, which she did not care to do. He pulled out her chair, the sound of its legs scraping against the floor stinging her ears. Then he put his hands to her shoulders, pushing her down into the seat. Blair clenched her teeth, but kept her composure, now staring forward at the celebration.

Chuck bent down to speak in her ear, his chin brushing against her shoulder. His hands kept a secure hold on her.

"Do not be difficult with me tonight, Blair. I'm in no mood for it," he warned. He then motioned for a servant to fill her cup, and fix her plate. She watched as they did this, her eyes refusing to meet his in silent protest.

"You cannot expect me to sit here whilst you go off with Nate to gamble and drink, forgetting about me until it comes time to return to your bedchambers." She argued behind a fake smile she displayed for the crowd before them.

He took hold of her chin, turning her head so that their eyes locked with one another. He shook his head.

"I do not expect anything of you, I do not need to. I've expressed what I want, what your prince wants. All you need do from here is comply with those wishes as anyone in this court would," he advised. He then picked up a cup of wine off the table and took a swig of it, standing over her once more.

Blair said nothing else to him, only nodding, and averting her gaze from him entirely. She knew it irritated him because he exited shortly after, returning to the gambling tables. Once he was out of sight she picked up her wine glass and took a nice, big drink from it herself. So he was in a foul mood again tonight, at least he had gone then.

She pushed the plate of food away from her and rose from the table, looking out to the party before her. She didn't care which member of the court she spoke to at this point, any form of distraction she'd be willing to entertain. For he may have not realized it, but Chuck wasn't the only one who had to limit his fun with his injury, the only difference being she wasn't actually injured. She didn't need to confine or restrict herself, limit her physical activity. If she wanted to she could dance and dance to her hearts content tonight, were it only dependent on her physical capabilities.

A fire seemed to spark in her eyes as she drifted closer and closer to the dance floor. It was calling to her. It felt as if imaginary waves were drifting out from it, pooling around her feet, and their current trying all it could to lure her in. She couldn't do it though. With Chuck's jealousy there were few men at court who'd even be willing to ask her, and for most of the dances she'd need a partner. Still though, she longed for it. If only there were one man brave enough, for a short dance, maybe even quick enough of one that Chuck would not notice. She looked back in the direction of the gambling tables, but she could not see them, or him for that matter. The dance floor was not in view of the gaming section. It made her feel all the more tempted. Perhaps it was a good thing she did not have a partner who was offering—

"Lady Blair."

Blair closed her eyes to the sound of Thomas's voice behind her. As she expected he was there, and he had found her. She had thought she would fare better in the crowd avoiding him than up on display at the royal table, but apparently she was wrong. She turned around, greeted by his usual kind smile.

"My Lord." She gave a curtsy to him in response.

"I have been eagerly watching the dance floors for you, but to my disappointment you had not yet appeared—until now." He stepped closer to her, trying to speak louder over the sound of laughter and music.

"I only came to watch. One cannot dance without a proper partner," she explained, moving to stand beside him. They both looked out onto the other members of court, dancing enthusiastically.

"Well I do not know how proper of a partner I may be, but I cannot stand here in good conscience and allow you to look on with such longing. I cannot afford for my future wife to be plagued by such sorrow." He took hold of her hand, coming before her once more.

Her eyes widened in shock at the proposition. It was forward for him. Now that he had extended the offer she could not in public refuse it, not considering their engagement. So instead she merely nodded, tucking a curl behind her ear with her free hand as he led her out onto the dance floor. Thomas was not the best dancer from what she could recall, and she didn't want a scene. She took a deep breath as the music began.

As they began to dance though she found herself somewhat surprised by him again. It was evident he had been practicing. He was still not as graceful as she, or as rhythmic as Chuck, but he was trying. She watched him as his eyes switched from her gaze down to the floor, and back again. He was nervously checking his steps, making sure he did not stumble or mess up. It was such an innocent and wholesome looking act he almost appeared boyish as he did it.

She tried her best to stifle a giggle, but he heard it.

"Am I really that awful?" he asked, looking instantly shamed.

Blair pursed her lips, not quite sure how to respond. Typically she would have furthered his embarrassment with a follow-up insult, but she didn't feel like being cruel for some reason. Thomas was really trying, and she didn't think it had much to do with him wanting to learn how to dance.

So instead she shook her head, offering him a polite sort of smile.

"You are not so awful. Just concentrate on leading, I shall do the rest." She then proceeded to try and guide him through it, without overpowering him. It was also in this time she realized she was actually having fun. It wasn't the most passion filled dance, or even a very good one, but it was the most she had moved around in a few days time. As she spun round, she felt alive again. She was having such a good time in fact, she hadn't even noticed the dark pair of eyes across the room, now upon her.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Later in the Evening

Chuck slumped back in his throne, knocking back glasses of wine as if he were doing it for sport. He had long ago lost count of exactly how many drinks he'd had, but as far as he was concerned it didn't matter. The wine helped with the pain and the overall aggravation he felt. Additionally with his father absent there was no one who'd dare tell him to stop. And he didn't plan on stopping, especially not after the mockery that'd been made of him that night. He'd returned from the gambling tables with his mind set on apologizing to Blair only to find all eyes already on her—and Thomas. Even thinking his name turned all the wine in Chuck's stomach as he recalled the sight of them together on the dance floor. Thomas was a horrid dancer; it was crime alone to pair someone with such inferior rhythm with someone who moved like Blair. Yet there they were, dancing together in front of everyone at court. It was as if she was purposely ridiculing him, taunting him as she entertained that buffoon.

He squeezed the arms of his throne, his fingers surely turning purple from his rigidness. He was doing this to prevent himself from balling his fists. He didn't want to do that. Once he had prepared them for punches, blows would be sure to follow.

He had told her to wait at the table for him. It was basically a command. So had she misunderstood him or was she deliberately defying him? Could she not tell he already felt so on edge lately? Why was she trying to test him now, like this—with him?

Blair wasn't stupid. She couldn't play the little fool believably like most girls at court, he knew better. She had to know how tired he was of limiting his physical ability. Hell, it had to be obvious to everyone around him, her especially, that he was growing more irritated by the day.

Sure, if he was this bored, then she could be too. He had watched her at these events, as she began to drift further and further away. Now when he looked for her she was often across the room, rather than willingly seated by his side. He couldn't blame her for being tired of sitting there, bored with the now constant cycle of banquets, gambling, and music without dance, but to dance with him? He felt the jealousy start to consume him once more.

Blair loved to dance; it had been one of the first things he learned about her. Therefore he could sympathize with her about missing it, but she should have refrained. He wouldn't be a cripple for life, they could dance together again in good time. Instead she had gone against him though, allowing Thomas to lead her—him of all people. Blair used dance to draw people in, it was the closest she came to moving in public how she moved in the bedroom.

His hands released the hold on his throne, and finally fisted at his sides.

Chuck looked up, his eyes searching the room for her quite fiercely. If she were still dancing, with Thomas or any other man, he would surely strike someone before the night had finished. He stood, preparing to run across the room like some kind of animal. Then his eyes found her.

Fortunately, she was no longer dancing and Thomas did not appear to be within sight. She was standing amongst what appeared to be a small crowd, drinking and laughing at something someone had said. There were too many people to make out whom she was specifically engaging with, though the little green monster on his back would have assumed a man of court.

It was then she saw him, her eyes locking with his. Blair smiled at him, looking happy as she threw a small wave his way.

He sighed, releasing his fists and stretching out his hands at his sides. Even in his envious state a part of him wished he could go over there and whisk her away to the dance floor, show her how one really leads. Now though, his ribs were too sore and even if they weren't he was far too drunk and too full for any kind of dancing.

"Come back," he mouthed to her. He remembered his displeasure, and allowed it to continue on, building up inside of him. She may not have been dancing anymore, but she had still made the decision to carry on entertaining others instead of him.

Blair looked back at whomever she was conversing with, mumbling some kind of polite excuse in their direction. Then she lifted her gown with one hand and sort of glided across the room. He fell back down into his throne, retrieving his gauntlet as he waited for her. She spared him another smile as she sat down beside him.

He didn't smile back.

"What were you doing?" he asked, staring forward and drinking the rest of what was left in his cup.

She looked from the now empty wine glass, and back to him. Then she set hers down on the table, revealing it to be dry as well.

"I was just trying to entertain members of court like a proper lady, you know, one who may someday be a princess," she teased. It was followed by a girlish sounding giggle. Clearly the thought pleased her.

Something that happened tonight had evidently put her in a rather good mood, in fact. She was being much more playful than before, and in a much better frame of mind than he. Clearly, she hadn't realized he'd seen her dancing with Thomas yet. And her words now, regardless of what she meant by them, only seemed as a way of somehow reminding him of her engagement to said man.

Chuck rolled his eyes at the thought.

"Why? None of them are going to make you one," he slurred. He then motioned to a servant to refill his cup with wine or ale—at this point he didn't really care which it was.

Blair sighed to herself, sitting up further in her chair. She pushed some of the food around on her plate, then looking at all of it.

"I've never seen such lavish banquets before, and almost every night now. It must be such a waste," she mused. She acted as if she was just making conversation, but they both knew it was an insult.

Chuck remained silent, noting that same bored expression returning to her face. It took all he could not to snap at her. He took it personally given he was the one who had been injured, the reason for all this. She could at least pretend to have a good time. She didn't seem to have trouble doing it when she danced with Thomas. Most other girls would kill to pretend they were having a good time with him, but Blair's façade was starting to fall more and more.

He took another gulp of his wine, and then set the cup down on the table abruptly. He blinked a few times, starting to feel the haziness aspect of it set in. Between his pain, his drunkenness, and his jealousy he was no longer enjoying the party. He wished they were in private so he could have this conversation the way he wanted; show her how he really felt. Even inebriated though he knew it was unlikely for her to accompany him back now that she was also in a mood.

So he decided he'd try a different approach. If he could coax her back to his chambers then they'd have their real conversation, and she'd have no way of leaving once it began. He wove his hand under the table, snaking it up her thigh.

Blair's eyes widened, shocked by his abrupt change in temperament—or so she thought. She turned to look at him, and then around the room. It wasn't as if anyone could really see what they were doing, given the large banquet table, but they were still in public.

He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"You look too ravishing tonight, Waldorf. I don't like it." He watched as she smiled sort of coyly to herself. She was falling for it, right into his trap.

"You said differently earlier this evening, or has the wine already made you forget our encounter?" She then motioned to the abundant amount of food and wine laid out before them. "Besides, have you not had enough here to lavish yourself with already?"

Chuck squeezed her thigh, smirking. "The prince would like a special kind of dessert, in private."

Blair sighed, shaking her head. "Chuck, your injuries are so close to healing." She began to try and reason with him, ending the game, and spoiling the fun.

His smirk narrowed into a glare and he sort of pinched her thigh instead.

"Are you telling me no?" His voice was low, and tense sounding. The image of her and Thomas flashed through his mind again and he gritted his teeth. Was she really going to deny him after what she'd done tonight? Did she not want to wash that fool's scent off of her, by masking it with his own?

Blair bit down hard on her bottom lip, trying to stifle her reaction to his squeezing. She then placed her hand on top of his, likely trying a gentler approach. She shook her head.

"No, of course not. I just do not wish to delay your healing anymore than need be," she explained.

Chuck sat back in his chair, overlooking her as if he were trying to figure out if she was lying or not. He took another swig of his wine and motioned to the dance floor.

"I bet you would like to be out there dancing, wouldn't you?" He presented it as a question, but it didn't sound like one. He didn't really intend it as one either. He was picking at her now, lost in alcohol and anger.

Blair nodded, appearing more nervous than before. He suspected she was beginning to wonder if he knew.

"Of course, your highness. But I'm fine—"

"Do not call me that," he interrupted, cutting her off. "I have told you over and over again to call me by my name."

"But we're in public, Chuck," she responded; now lowering her voice so no one else could hear them. She was smart enough to see that the conversation was turning; yet she still withheld what she knew from him.

He felt it all building inside of him, and he was more than ready to take it out on someone. He turned towards her, grabbing her leg again with more force, as if to make a point in the way he did it.

"I don't care where we are. I don't like the way it sounds coming from your lips. Even if you are to continue to sit here and lie to me, you will refer to me as such whilst you do it. I told you to call me Chuck, so you will. Just like if I told you I wanted to leave right this very moment, take you by the hand in front of everyone, and blatantly lead you to my bedchambers I could. I can do anything I want, Blair. Do not let my injury make you so easily forget that."

Blair stared back at him for a few moments, clearly trying to figure out all he had said. Slowly, she began to nod.

"I assure you that I do not ever forget who you are or all that you may do, Chuck. However, I think your father, the king, would not take too kindly to that scenario." She lifted her eyes to his to see him glaring at her again. It was the truth, but in his wine fueled state he didn't care to hear it. He only saw it as her talking back to him, refuting what he had said.

She placed her hand on his thigh this time, likely another attempt to soothe him as if he were some spoiled child.

"Perhaps if you'd slow down on your drinking and try some water instead…we could work around your injuries tonight," she propositioned, trying to spare him a smile once more.

One of Chuck's hands tightened around his glass, while the other drifted from her lap up to her bosom. He ran his hand along the edge of it, feeling the ridges in the fabric. Blair's eyes fluttered around the room once more, looking more nervous than before. He found pleasure in her current discomfort. So he continued on with his fondling, as she stayed very still and watched him carefully. If someone did see them, at least to an outside perspective it would just look like the prince being drunk and forward, neither of which things were new. He personally felt pleasure in the idea of others looking upon them now. He felt the need to publicly reclaim her after her little display with Thomas.

"I don't want to stop drinking. Haven't you realized now that all I'm currently good at is drinking and you?" He lifted his hand from her bosom and cupped her chin, quirking his eyebrow at her. Then he took another sip of his drink with this free hand, further baiting her for a reaction.

Blair turned her cheek to look away from him, but found he still kept hold of her chin. He was being rough tonight, and difficult, and that was all while they were still in front of others.

"I'm not a sport, or some kind of pastime for you, Chuck," she whispered, only now her voice was laced with a low kind of dissatisfaction.

He rolled his eyes again, dropping both his hands, and sinking back down into his throne. "You don't want to play tonight, clearly."

"No, not when you're acting like this. You're being unkind," she argued, staring down at him.

Chuck laughed; it had a bitter sound to it. "Really is that why? I had thought maybe it were due to how tired you must be."

She frowned, looking confused. "I am not tired, other than of this behavior—"

"Please, Blair. You must be tired," he interrupted her again. Then he stood, leaning over her chair. She couldn't get up and walk away now if she wanted to, not without him moving. He was purposely towering over her.

"Surely someone who danced as much as you did tonight would be exhausted. After all, you let that halfwit drag you around the dance floor for all at court to see. Meaning you surely must have known I would as well, so you were mocking me then. How do you think that makes me, the prince, feel?" he seethed.

Blair looked fearful now, indeed realizing he had seen her dancing with Thomas.

"Chuck, he asked me. I could not refuse—"

"Oh really, you seem to have no problem refusing me when you want to," he retorted. He then looked around the room, noting people had started to take notice to their heated exchange. He backed up, nodding to her.

"Get up. We will finish this conversation elsewhere," he told her.

Blair stood, but hesitated to follow him. "Perhaps we should finish it in the morning, when you're of more sound mind," she offered.

Chuck grabbed hold of her wrist, pulling her in closer to him. "I don't need to be of sound mind to finish this. Be at my chambers within the hour or I will send someone for you, or worse I will come looking myself, and I assure you that is not something you want."

"What do you mean finish this?" she asked, not exactly arguing with him anymore.

He glanced around in annoyance at their still very public surroundings. Then he met her eyes again, his darkening with each word he spoke.

"I mean that you do not want to talk, if you did then you would have. Instead you tried to appease me tonight, hide something from me. I however, still have my feelings on the matter and they will not be left unheard—or unfelt. So you will come to my room tonight and find out exactly how I feel, Blair. You'll feel it too, I assure you." His explanation didn't offer her much understanding, and what he followed with right before he left would only further her uncertainty. For right before he exited, he had said one more thing.

"Oh, and bring an additional nightgown. You may very well need it when we're through."

And with that, he was gone.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Edited A/N: Sorry if the double update email confused anyone. I currently don't have a beta and am doing my best to tend the job myself, but I always get excited and eager to post after finishing a chapter. Once I read it back I noticed a few mistakes that were really bugging me so I fixed them. And if this if your first time reading this please disregard this note, and see to the author's note below. Thanks!

A/N: I don't know about anyone else, but I was getting a little excited there at the end typing all that up. Anyways, I would like to say how absolutely wonderful it was to hear from all of you. It's nice to be back, and see and hear from people from before. Please let me know what you're thinking after this chapter, how you're feeling about the characters and what's going on. Also for those of you asking about Breakfast at the Basses… leaving it unfinished was one of my greatest regrets. I do have plans to continue it, but I wanted to re-familiarize myself with the story, so I'm rereading it first and there's quite a lot to get through. I do plan on updating it once I'm caught up though so if you were wondering if you should catch up or are still interested in reading, go for it. I will also probably be continuing my story Possessive Beings and one called Face the Music. I have a lot written for both of them, and yay they're both Chuck and Blair stories. Anyways, I appreciate you all so much! It really does feel good to be back and know some of you are still reading. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!