The Royal Affair
Chapter Twenty-Nine
THE MAZE OF SECRETS
XOXOXOXOXO
Blair's eyes batted open slowly, as she woke from a very deep slumber. After Chuck had showed up, made sure she was warm, and fired one of her guards, she'd passed out pretty quickly. She hadn't exactly been in any proper condition to talk anyways, and it was clear he wasn't pushing for it. Even now, though she'd slept well past morning, she still felt rather exhausted. Honestly, could probably sleep a week and still not feel any relief. She wasn't sure any of this was actually related to the amount of slumber she'd been receiving. But that was hard to think about now that she was awake again, and staring right into the dark eyes of the prince. He looked like he'd been up for hours, but also appeared to have not moved at all since doing so. He was lying very close to her, his front pressed up against hers, and his head on the pillow right beside her own. She began to wonder if his stare was what had subconsciously woken her. After a few minutes passed and he continued to gaze in silence, Blair lifted her head slightly to look around the room. It was definitely well past morning, by the looks of it, early afternoon from how the sun was hitting her window. She lowered herself back down, looking at him again. Neither his eyes, nor the rest of him had moved.
"Chuck? Don't you want to get up?" she asked, and her voice still sounded very hoarse from all the crying she'd done the night before. She touched her hand to her throat, rubbing it as if to try and polish it back to its normal self. She doubted it would help, but it did feel like it soothed it some.
He shook his head slowly, his brow lowering. She noted he almost looked kind of sad, or at least upset by something. But what would he have to be distressed about? It was her who'd had such an atrocious ordeal of a night. Yet, this was an expression she was certain she'd not seen on his face before. She touched a hand to it gently, sparing him a small smile.
"Why not?" Blair followed up her former question, considering she hadn't really received an answer for it the first time she'd asked. Finally, Chuck moved, lifting a hand to hold onto the back of her head, twirling her curls round his fingertips.
"Because I just want to stay here a little while longer. I want to keep existing like this, just the two of us, together in this bed. With you looking your upmost breathtaking and beautiful as the afternoon light hits you perfectly. Why would I want to be anywhere else?" he breathed. His voice was so kind, and genuine, so soft compared to usual. It kind of stunned her for a moment. It wasn't that he was incapable of things like this, but where it came from, and how long it had been since the last, were more than enough to give her cause for pause. She couldn't help, but make further comment.
"But—but I thought you were mad at me?" she questioned, and it was indeed now more of a query than a statement. Because despite yesterday, and his confining her to her chambers, he did not presently seem angry at all. Perhaps how upset she'd gotten had triggered enough guilt in him to make him only want to try and squash the entire thing? But it felt like it was something else, something more. She just couldn't figure it out.
"I'm not mad," Chuck certified, and there was a slight rise of emotion in his voice as he said so. Still, it was not anger, to his credit. But it was evidently stirring something up in him.
"But you were last night?" Blair guided, growing more confused by his answers that were only resulting in more questions from her. He was struggling with this conversation, and she couldn't find any rhyme or reason as to why that would be.
"I wasn't—I wasn't angry. I just needed a night alone, and I didn't want you to spend it with anyone else. I wanted you to be alone in my absence as well," he explained, though she noticed in saying this his eyes did finally drift from hers. He had turned, rolled over onto his back, and now stared at the ceiling of the bed's canopy.
"Well then you could have just sent me a message saying that. You got me all confused and upset, and clearly not just me. But your guards—"
"Your guards," Chuck corrected, interjecting and giving her a very pointed look as their eyes connected once more.
"I think I proved last night I want them to treat you a certain way, protect you to the fullest extent."
Blair nodded, not able to disagree with this. She'd seen it for herself, with her own two eyes, and it was not something she'd forget easily. It had meant a lot to her, even if she'd been too upset in the moment to properly convey that to him. And now it was hard for her pride to allow her to express this fully, knowing he was the one to kick off the craziness, even if not the intended effect. She pursed her lips, shutting them tight so that they would not speak before her brain had fully signed off on it.
"Look, I realize I went about things wrong. Though I'm not sure how you got such an impression that it turned you to be that fearful, I am still very regretful for it. And remorseful, Blair. I hated seeing you in such a state. I don't wish to ever see it again, or feel I've been the cause," Chuck assured her, reaching out to take hold of both of her hands, enclosing them in his own. She could hear the guilt in his voice, see it in his eyes. She was quite certain she'd never seen him look so sorry for anything else before, not in the entire extent of them knowing one another.
She sighed, "You were not the complete cause. It was the guard intimidating me with the tower that sent me into such a spiral. And as it turns out, that was his threat, not yours," she corrected, though she was certain he'd picked up on the way she'd phrased this. She couldn't help it. There would always be a little self-doubt in her, a little mistrust when it came to that place. It was too racked in horrible memories for her to ever view it, or any conversation it fell into, completely clearly. She glanced over at him to see if this had been enough to insult or enrage him, but he only stared back at her with the same sullen expression as before. He shook his head at her.
"His last threat though, I can promise you that," Chuck told her, and that part of him that was so protective over her peeked out again. He instinctively let go of her hands, instead wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her to his chest. He kissed the crook of her neck, nuzzling his nose against it. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to also breathe him in and fully absorb themselves into one another. His scent was familiar now, comforting. Other than some things back in France that had a naturally nostalgic aroma to them, he smelled like home now…well, what home had become. She thought for an instant perhaps she should tell him this, that it would make him happy in a moment he seemed so bothered. But something else in her prevented her from doing so, pride perhaps? Her heart wanted to share in the moment with him, but her head said to keep quiet. To reveal something so personal now, when he was clearly keeping something from her, was to give him an upper hand and result in a loss of one for herself. It wasn't the right move, or at least definitely not the smart one.
Instead, she pulled away from him, just enough so that they could make eye contact again.
"Chuck, do we have anything we must do today?" she asked, making sure her voice was very polite as she did so. If he was good at reading her, which he had been since they met, he would already be able to tell she was positioning to ask him for something. Only, it wasn't evident he had figured this out, or at least his face gave no indication of such. He seemed to stare back at her blankly, as if unsure what to say. Did it mean he had prior plans? Was he trying to already think of a way to tell her no without it causing some kind of fight? Surely, he'd know she wasn't looking for an argument again so soon. They both seemed too exhausted for one today.
"I—I suppose not till tonight. Nathaniel suggested we host a gambling night in the great hall, make sure we get one more in before my father and Catherine return to spoil all our fun. Mostly dice and card games, but there will be tables set up. And dancing for you… if I can manage it. I will try my best," Chuck explained. She noticed that he had mostly looked away from her when he said all of this, except of course the last bit.
"Oh, well alright. I didn't mean tonight anyways," Blair returned, still staring at him as if she was trying to peer directly through his skull, and read whatever thoughts he concealed from her. Normally she would have expressed more distaste for a night of gambling and drinking, but today something told her not to push him. He was in an odd mood, and it didn't seem to be dissipating.
"You would like to do something specific today then?" Chuck furthered. He sat up in bed, rubbing his side that one of his injuries had been on. She wondered if it hurt today, it seemed like it had never stopped since he'd fallen from his horse that day, rather only some days he felt better or worse than others. She began to second guess whether or not he'd be up to what she wanted to do, but then she recalled the physician saying walks would be good for him. Exercise could help his condition, as long as it wasn't for too long or too strenuous of an activity.
"I want to go on a walk, just us. In the gardens. And I don't want to have to worry about anyone, or anything. I just want to spend time with you," she expressed, looking down to her lap as the words embarrassed her some. She didn't want to appear needy. She was certain it was a quality he wouldn't find attractive in women, or anyone for that matter. Instead of indicating he was put off by this however, he reacted by reaching across the bed, and lifting her chin with his fingertips. He smiled at her, and it was different than his usual coy grin.
"I would love nothing more, Waldorf. I shall arrange for them to clear out the Privy Garden, or would you prefer the pond? Surely, I needn't ban the rest of court from all sixty acres of it," he teased, his lips alas revealing his signature smirk. It always made her smile, or on occasion scream, but today it brought out the former in her.
"I'm fine with the privy or the pond, though I wouldn't mind sometime in the maze as well," she decided, beaming back at him.
He chuckled, "And here I thought you hated that thing. Last time we were there you seemed to get quite frustrated when you took the lead—"
"I've learned it better now. Give me enough time and I can accomplish anything. You should know that by now, your highness." It was her turn to tease him, but today her using his title didn't seem to bother him as much. Instead, he joined in her laughter, and she realized it had been a while since she'd heard it sound so full, and warm.
"Yes, as I've been made aware. Fine, the pond and the maze then. Only and all ours for the taking today," he agreed. She made a girlish sort of squeal next, unable to contain her excitement. Their time alone with one another was her favorite. He was different when it was just them, and it was her favorite version of him. She leapt from the bed, and practically ran over to her wardrobe, before beginning to search through it for the dress she wanted to wear. Chuck rose from the bed much slower, making his way to the door of the room, and leaning out of it. He called down the corridor for a servant to assist them, and quickly two young girls appeared.
"Her first," he ordered, motioning over to Blair as he took a seat on the chest at the end of her bed.
"Yes, your highness," they agreed in unison, bowing their heads at him, and hurrying over to Blair. She looked over her shoulder at them, and then down at a dress she'd accidently knocked to the floor.
"Please, my Lady, let us do that for you. Which gown were you looking for?" one asked, reaching out her hands to touch the colorful fabric.
Blair nodded, and took a step back, allowing them to get to it. She crossed her arms, trying to peer over their heads and closely examine them in their task.
"I want the bright red one, with the bell sleeves, and straight cut neckline. It's the one with gold gems sewn all throughout the fabric, that goes with the gold pearl necklace, and my tall tiara," she described. She figured she may as well wear it again before the King and Catherine returned, as she figured once they did someone would surely question where she'd gotten it.
"Do you not think the neckline on that one is a tad revealing?" Chuck called out to her, clearly, he could recall the dress to his memory better than either of her ladies.
She giggled, sticking her head out of the doorway of her wardrobe.
"Yes, I think it is. Which is why I mean to wear it, and taunt you with it all day long," she told him. He smirked back at her, but again she sensed he was hiding something else behind it. She tried to ignore this though, and keep with their mischievous, and playful attitude.
"Fine, sweetheart. Wear what you'd like to. Though don't be surprised when the rest of the women at court glare at you with envy for that tiara. It appeared they could barely handle the size of it alone last time," Chuck recalled, though in reality both knew he was not the least bit worried about what others thought. If anything, he enjoyed the occasional spectacle or two, if framed correctly.
"I won't be. I want them to be jealous. I want them to all be pea green with envy," she returned coyly. He could not help, but laugh aloud at her again.
"Fine, Waldorf. You can have your fun today and I shall have mine…" he trailed off, and she looked back out at him to see if something had happened. He still sat there on her chest, but was staring off into space with a very troubled look on his face. She frowned at him.
"And you shall have yours tonight?" she finished for him, thinking this the most obvious way he'd been headed in his statement. He snapped his head in her direction, looking as if startled by her words. She looked back at her ladies to confirm they were indeed absorbed in the closet, before she stepped out towards him and took his face in her hands.
"Is something wrong?" she asked him, and quickly followed it with, "You could tell me, you know." She wasn't sure what consumed his thoughts, but she'd be willing to take on any burden with him; even if it didn't involve her, which she hoped it didn't. Chuck stared up at her, and opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped himself. He licked his lips and cleared his throat.
"I—I'm just tired. There's still a lot to be done before my father returns, much I have to see to. If I seem far away at all, that's all it is," he told her. While it seemed like a perfectly reasonable answer, Blair couldn't escape the part of her that sensed it wasn't a truthful one.
"Chuck—" she began, but he cut her off by raising to stand, and removing her hands from his face. He shrugged, and shook his head.
"It's nothing you need trouble yourself with, honestly. Look, why don't I leave your ladies to help you dress? I will be quicker in my own chambers. Then I'll come back and collect you," he told her.
She frowned, "Am I still not allowed to leave my apartments? Could I not come fetch you if I finish first?" She felt a bit of the nerves from the night before threatening to return at such a notion.
"What? No, no of course not. But honestly Waldorf, in what world will you finish dressing before I? I am certain I shall finish earlier. You're overthinking things. Are you still upset?" he furthered, flipping it on her with ease. It was unfortunately something he was rather good at.
"No, I just—"
"Good. I shall see you shortly then," Chuck concluded, again cutting her off before she could finish. She thought to protest for a moment, but he leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek, stunning her for just long enough for him to make it out of the room before another word had passed her lips. She sighed, crossing her arms, and staring after him. What was going on with him?
XOXOXOXOXO
Dan shifted the parchments around on his desk for what was probably the hundredth time that morning. He'd finished any paperwork he had hours ago, and had since then been pretending there was something at his desk he still needed to tend to. A loud, aggravated sigh sounded suddenly, and he jumped a little. Some of the papers fell off the edge, swaying slowly to land on the floor.
"Oh good, now you have an actual reason to move them," Nate sounded bitterly. Before he stood up and stormed over to the desk. He snatched the papers up before Dan could and held them out of reach.
"You're only getting these back if you get on with it, Humphrey. Some of us have things to do, people to see, places to be, other than this stuffy old office. The prince actually enjoys my company, you know?" Nate proclaimed proudly. It took all Dan had not to roll his eyes. As if he needed the duke telling him how much favor he had with the prince. He figured they both knew that obvious, in all the secret meetings they'd been at together with his highness.
Dan sighed, looking back down at the leftover papers on his desk, as if they would provide him with a better excuse. When they did not, he shook his head.
"It may take some time to call him here—"
"He's already here! He's been waiting outside for over an hour now! I told you that a while ago. God, what has you so distracted? This isn't even any real threatening yet. You're basically just delivering a message for the prince. Get a hold of yourself, man," Nate scolded in clear disapproval. Unlike Dan he was not hesitant about their task, but more than ready. The secretary sensed he may even enjoy it some. Dan however, felt bad and nervous about it all. From his small interaction with Tom Wyatt, he seemed nice enough. And the prince was—well the prince. It didn't really matter what Dan thought he was, what he was he would remain. And it was the prince whom he worked for. So even if he didn't mind the poet, or had perhaps liked him a little, he still had to get the job done. He sighed, rubbing his hands through his hair, and forcing himself to nod before he could take it back.
"Fine. Call him in then. Just give me one more moment to get my notes," he pleaded.
Nate scoffed, "Yes, more notes. Just what we need. You know I have the feeling had you been born in the right places and been in lessons with us, I'd still have found you rather annoying."
Dan looked up at him, as if to throw him a look that somehow managed to convey, 'How am I supposed to respond to that?' This worked surprisingly and Nate shrugged, before he plopped himself back down on the seat in front of the fireplace. The prince had asked him to stay back, unless needed, and let Dan deliver the message. It felt cowardly, but he secretly wished the tables had been turned on that, and it was Duke Archibald taking the lead, rather than he.
Nate picked up his cup, still half full of wine, and banged it down on the table beside him. Then he cleared his throat, and called out loud enough for the guards outside to hear.
"Send in the prisoner!" he shouted in an abnormally low voice. Dan sensed he was mimicking someone he'd never met, but Nate was taking enough delight in it for the both of them. He supposed it didn't matter so long as Wyatt had not heard him. He didn't want to be off to a bad start from the get-go.
The doors opened and just as soon as they did Wyatt appeared, strolling inside rather casually. He looked around the room curiously, his eyes finding Dan first. His confusion changed into a grin, and Dan felt instant guilt.
"Mister Humphrey! We meet again! Don't tell me these are your offices? A little grim for you I'd think," he commented, looking around as if he found the lavish room distasteful.
"Again?" Nate asked, giving Dan a look. Tom turned around, obviously just now realizing someone else was in the room with them.
"And you are? A friend of Dan's?" Tom asked, glancing back at Dan for confirmation. Nate laughed at this, very loudly, and longer then needed. He shook his head.
"No, no I'm not," he answered simply. Then he put his feet up on the table in front of him and took a drink of his wine.
"Get to it, Dan," he ordered, drawling out the name to purposefully poke fun. Dan didn't care as long as he'd forgotten Wyatt mentioning they'd met before. It wasn't anything. He didn't want the duke making the prince think he'd withheld something important from him. The idea of such unnerved him greatly.
"Your 'not-friend' is kind of rude," Tom commented, now turning his back to Nate completely. He took a few more steps forward, but stopped when Dan cleared his throat to speak.
"Master Wyatt, you have been invited to the royal offices today for a proposal most generous and… well, very generous indeed," Dan explained. He was off to a bad start already.
"I am, am I? By whose invitation? I take it not yours?" He spoke slowly as he looked round the room again, and once more at Nate. Dan could tell he wasn't an idiot. He was starting to piece some of it together, so Dan may as well get on with explaining it. He sighed.
"By invitation of his royal highness, Prince Charles. He would like me to offer you a royal sponsorship for your writing," he explained. All of that was the easy part, it was the next bit Dan figured he'd have objections to.
"You've paused, but I don't feel you've finished," Tom acknowledged. Nate chuckled in the background, but they both ignored him.
"Forgive me, Mister Humphrey. But I met the prince for a short bit and he didn't seem to like me much. Why would he want to give me money to write? Is he dull or something?"
"Hold your fucking tongue!" Nate yelled, raising in his seat instantly at the insult. Dan felt his heart jump, but was relieved to see he remained across the room still. However, Nate was red in the face, and almost shaking.
"Friend of the prince's then, I take it?" Tom said merely, raising his eyebrow at Dan for confirmation. Dan looked at Nate who'd resigned to glaring in silence for now, before nodding to Tom.
"Yes, this is Duke Archibald. He is one of the prince's closest, and oldest friends. Him and I work together for his highness…sometimes," Dan elaborated. It wasn't untruthful. Nate and him had been seeing a lot of one another since they began helping on all of this.
"Well, he seems really pleasant. I can see why someone like his highness would prefer his company," Tom returned cooly. Dan was very certain he was still insulting both the prince, and now Nate as well, but the latter hadn't seemed to notice this. It was good his highness wasn't present, he doubted he would have missed it. He began to worry this Wyatt fellow was a bit too cunning for his own good. This may yet present as more of a challenge than he'd hoped for.
"So, you were saying?" Tom furthered. He acted as if he had better things to do, or places to be. Like how Nate had been earlier, but a lot less entitled about it. Instead, he just seemed loosely interested in the present, and like he wanted to get on with his day. Dan couldn't blame him, as he too wished to do the very same.
"Yes, as I was saying. The prince would like to offer you a royal sponsorship, and equip you with the coin and whatever else you should need to write, for its duration," Dan continued. He then took a deep breath, still dreading the terms that came next.
"But? Oh come, on, I know there's a but. There's always a but when it comes to people like them. What does he want from me?" Tom prompted.
"Do you honestly think you could have anything the prince wants?" Nate intercepted again, seemingly unable to withstand any jabs at his friend. Tom turned around, merely flashing him an amused smile and a shrug.
"I mean I wouldn't have before today, but clearly there's a reason I've been called. And it's not to just pay me to write… whatever I want?" he asked, looking back to Dan for clarification. Nate was now grinning behind him, but in a sort of sardonic way. He was looking forward to the next part.
"Go on. Tell him the conditions," Nate encouraged.
"You might as well come out with it, Mister Humphrey. I'm not sure your friend can contain himself for very much longer—"
"I really don't like you," Nate intersected, loudly and blunt even for him. Tom turned back around and Dan suspected it was to flash him another grin. The man seemed permanently unbothered by anything.
"Yes, I can have that effect on people like you. So why don't you let the secretary here do his job, and get to the point? I'm sure he has better things to do today, as do I," he returned, matching the duke's directness, but with much more ease. Nate glared back at him, opening his mouth as if to say something else, but then shaking his head and drinking the rest of his wine. Tom turned back to Dan, giving him an encouraging nod.
"Conditions, Mister Humphrey? I assume the prince would like to tell me what I am to write about," Tom sighed, and he got this bored look in his eye like this had not been the first time someone had presented him with such an offer.
"No, not exactly. The prince understands as a writer you need certain artistic freedoms. However, he also is aware of how distracting the hustle and bustle of the English Court can be. Not an ideal place for one to concentrate. He agrees to sponsor anything you would like to write, so long as it's written outside the English court," Dan revealed. He watched as reality began to register on the poet's face. For a moment the mask fell and he didn't look as amused as before, but then he recovered. His smile returned, though not as large this time, and he shook his head.
"That seems like odd terms. I can write whatever I want, and he'll pay me, but I must write outside the English court?" Tom repeated back to him. Dan doubted he thought he'd heard him incorrectly, and rather it was to set up some point he intended to make.
"It means you're to leave here, and not come back. He wants you gone, Wyatt," Nate clarified, clearly about done with the charade. Tom didn't turn back to look at him this time, but instead threw Dan a look. Her merely called over his shoulder to the duke instead.
"Are we using last names now? Not really my thing," he replied, as if that was all needed addressing or all Nate had said. Dan could tell the duke was about to blow, so he spoke up to reinvolve himself.
"If you need lodging outside the court the crown would be happy to provide it, should you accept this proposal. And again, you may write about whatever, though his highness does ask you refrain from writing about anyone in particular from the English court or currently residing here. This would apply to anyone in the past or present," Dan explained quickly. He felt some relieved to be rid of all of it.
Tom stared at him in silence for what felt like forever. The grin had gone again, and he was now peering at Dan rather peculiarly. He cocked his head at him.
"What about former French citizens? Surely, his highness would have no objection or reason for not wanting me to write about them?" Tom said suddenly. The grin was back. They both knew what he was doing, what he'd caught onto, and what he really meant.
"They're off limits too, if they live here now," Nate spoke up on behalf of Dan, not waiting for him to beat around the bush about it. Again, Tom didn't bother looking at him. He didn't even address him this time, but Dan instead.
"How much?" he stated frankly. "How much is highness willing to pay to send me away?"
"His highness is willing to pay what you require, should you accept the sponsorship and it's specifications," Dan returned, very matter of fact, and business like. Or at least that's what he was aiming for, he wasn't sure how believable it came off as.
Tom chuckled as if Dan had told some great joke. He clapped his hands together, and shook his head, glancing from Dan to Nate.
"Well, gentlemen, this is quite the offer. And after arriving back to court so soon, I am astonished, really!" Tom proclaimed dramatically. Dan felt his heart sink. This was not the look of a man ready to accept defeat.
Wyatt snapped his finger, as if a great thought had just occurred to him. Then he used that hand to cup his chin, and stroke it.
"You know though, it does make one have to wonder. If such patronage can be presented so soon, it would surely be wise to hold out and see if any other, better offers were to come in. I suppose I'll take my time to think it over. Till then, I write about what and who I want of course," he certified. Neither Nate or Dan missed that he had hung a little longer on the word 'who'.
"You're a fool," Nate retorted, shaking his head in disgust. Tom looked at him, and shook his head.
"No, just not a lap dog. I don't simply do what I'm told just because someone ordered me to. I'm sure you'd know nothing about it," he drawled.
"I know what it's like to be in his highness's favor. You're about to find what it's like to not be," Nate replied, finding a confidence at the thought of this. Wyatt however did not seem bothered. He threw up his hands in a sort of shrug, and sighed loudly.
"Well if that's all I'll take my leave then—"
"I think you should reconsider," Nate suggested, speaking with more force this time.
Tom turned round to face him fully now. Dan could tell despite his intended persona; the duke was starting to wear on him a bit. He was still smiling, but there was definite anger in it.
"You know what I think? I think I'm feeling much too inspired to write to accept any kind of deal which would limit it. I think I shall go write when I leave from here. Yes, an idea for my next poem has just come to me. It's about a man, who thinks he can buy love," he told them.
This was very Bad. It made Dan's stomach hurt. He wasn't sure what to do or say, as he hadn't planned for this kind of outcome.
"I'd be careful what I write about while you're here, if I were you," Nate began, but it was Tom's turn to interrupt him.
"But you're not me, are you? You wouldn't know how to be, and you definitely lack the style it takes. As for what I write, until and unless I take any coin from your master, it's for me to decide. And you've only further inspired me now. It won't be just man, but a king. A king who wastes the money of the people who could surely use it to try and buy that which cannot be purchased with coin. Just as the heart cannot be secured by it," Tom furthered. He was speaking with passion now. Dan could tell he was a writer just from how he worded things.
"Well, then I'd watch your back. Your pen's not much against a sword," Nate returned with his own sort of conviction.
"It's gotten me this far," Tom denied with a shrug. He then turned from Nate, finished with their conversation; and gave Dan a small smile as if to let him know he would not hold these orders against him.
"I would ask you to think it over, Master Wyatt. I would appreciate it if you did," Dan said as one final attempt, but he could tell the man was unmoved.
"Oh, I'll definitely be thinking about it," Tom murmured. He then moved as if to take his exit again, but before the doors had opened Dan saw Nate stand and call out to him.
"Don't go looking for her! You'd do best to stay away, and she's not anywhere you'd have access to," he stated plainly. This had not been part of the plan, and Dan found it very disconcerting.
"Is the powerful prince that threatened by a little poet like me? Well then, he must have done his research," he said seriously.
But then he added, in a more joking tone as his eyes connected with Dan's again, "Rather you did it for him, most likely. Tell Blair I'll see her soon, would you? I take it you've met—"
"That isn't up to you!" Nate spat. The vein in his neck looked like it was throbbing now. Dan wasn't sure he had ever seen him this livid with someone, not even Lady Blair during their worst of arguments. And she was most certainly one of his least favorite people at court, maybe Wyatt would take the lead in that now.
"Perhaps not, but from the sound of it, it's not up to her either. Which is so tragic, it practically writes itself as well. Though someone should inform your prince that the people of the English court love stories about princesses locked away in towers. Only, they usually don't root for the evil men who hold the key," he spoke pointedly, with much intention.
"Please, Master Wyatt," Dan beseeched. But he could tell the other man was firm in his stance.
"Look Dan, no hard feelings about all this. I can spot a man who's merely following orders. Not my original impression of you, but it's the world we live in that does it, I suppose. For now, I cannot accept his highness's offer. Relay that message however you'd like," he finalized. Then without giving Nate another word or even look in his direction, he opened the doors himself and walked out of them. It stunned Dan for a moment, as he'd never seen someone do this. They always waited for the doors to be opened, made sure it was okay for them to leave the royal offices. He'd seen this done this way so many times he'd almost assumed they were too heavy for one man to push or pull by himself. But today Tom Wyatt had done it. He could never admit aloud he was just a bit impressed.
"Well, he's a real prick, isn't he? Going to have to tell the prince he'll definitely be a problem," Nate said as he came up to Dan to stand beside him. Clearly, the poet had made different impressions on them. For while he would call him reckless, or a little too honest for his own good, prick would not have been the word he'd chosen. Problem, however, was something they could agree on.
Dan sighed, "I hope his highness is not upset that I failed in my mission."
"Oh, he'll definitely be upset. But hold out hope, it won't all be towards you. Just tell him enough of what Wyatt said and you'll be golden in comparison. I've found when you've done something you know will make his highness upset, it can at times be amended by merely finding someone else whose done worse, and handing them over to him," Nate advised. The secretary thought it sounded dirty, and not something he'd lower himself too, but he wasn't going to tell the duke this.
"I'd rather not stir the pot," Dan he said instead.
Nate scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"And that, Humphrey, is why I am where I am, and you are where you are. Well, aside from our mothers, no offense," he told him, and the way he said it Dan felt it was actually meant with great offense. But it wasn't something that bothered him. He'd never really known his mother. But the duke wasn't wrong in saying she had bore him into less better circumstances than he. It was just the way things were. There was no point in getting emotional about it.
"Well, I am off to have some fun then. Let me know how his highness takes it, though I'm sure I'll hear all about it from him at some point," Nate alluded, and Dan could almost hear the displeased screams of the prince already. He sighed, bowing his head as the other man exited the room. Dan noted that he waited for the guards to open the door, like everyone else did. He was again struck with the image of Tom merely deciding he'd had enough and opening them for himself. And he wasn't sure why he was so hung up on it, but he sensed it was important.
XOXOXOXOXO
When Chuck rounded the corner to Blair's apartments he noticed her already outside them, though lingering in the doorway. She didn't' look confined however, but instead in conversation with the guard she'd kept on, and whoever the new one that had been chosen was. He was thankful she looked much more at ease now than she had the night prior. Not that one could tell she'd been up most of the night crying based on how she looked presently. There was no evidence of tears or redness left on her cheeks, and her eyes were not swollen at all anymore. Her thick, long mahogany curls draped down her back, contained only at the top by the very large tiara on her head. It was tall, gold, and heavily jeweled, the metals and gems intertwining in a sort of spiderweb shaped front. Little droplets of pears and diamonds hung throughout the web. He was pretty certain it had been his mothers, and perhaps many other women in his family before her. He didn't really like thinking of a bunch of dead queens wearing it though, as he preferred the current view of her in it instead. His eyes slid down her chin to her nape, and he smirked at the sight of her familiar necklace she'd worn a lot when he was first getting to know her. It was one of her less lavish pieces, which made sense considering she'd had it before meeting him, but it had been a fashionable pick to pair with her crown which definitely was not lacking in extravagance. It was a simple string of pearls, with a large golden B dangling beneath them for her name, and then three larger teardrop shaped pearls hanging from the letter. He sensed it was a signature item for her, which he could very much appreciate as he had a few of his own; like the ruby ring that had definitely been his mother's he'd had reset and refashioned for himself that was always worn on his right hand. He smirked as he acknowledged they both also definitely had a thing for the color red. Blair wore it very often, as she should, it suited her immensely, and he as often as he could that would be deemed appropriate. To compromise with his father, he'd often go for purple as there was little argument the king could make since it was the color of royalty. To his delight she was in red today, the bodice of the gown being a lush burgundy shade, which met the skirt in a V-shape, that was also red, but slightly brighter. The sleeves were a bit more of the French style, cutting off just below her elbows and opening into more of a flow, the ends trimmed in black lace. There was an array of detailed dark purple threadwork and neatly placed gems in the middle of the boddice, which paired nicely with a plum cloak she'd dawned for their stroll.
He'd just realized he'd stopped mid walk to admire her when her face looked up, eyes finding his, and her smile grew. He liked when this happened. It sort of pinched at his chest whenever it did, but in a good way, which he realized sounded absurd, but it was the only way he could describe it. He stayed put where he was, motioning her on to him instead, as he didn't feel like talking to her new guard, or anyone other than her really.
The men bowed their heads at her, and he could tell this brought her a lot of joy as she seemed to linger and watch before fully making her way over to him. He held out his hand, and she took hold of his arm. He didn't mind the substitution as all it really did was call for them to walker closer to one another, their sides hitting up against each other as they did. He was finding he had to remind himself more and more that people could still see them, though it was also becoming much harder to care. With his father gone there was essentially no one who could reprimand him, or tell him what to do. And her idiot fiancé and the queen being gone as well, made it feel like they were in their own little world which didn't have consequences. And to be fair he mostly did live in a world similar, that bared very few penalties. So, it wasn't hard to find himself falling into it with her, especially when nothing else really mattered to him when she was there.
"It's outside these doors, up ahead, right?" Her voice broke his thoughts, and he turned to look at her, then the doors ahead, and back again. He nodded.
"Yes, that's right. You're getting a lot better at finding your way around here, and back in London at Whitehall," he complimented. She smiled as if she appreciated this, and nodded in agreement. The doors were opened up for them and they walked outside, past the privy gardens, and into the pond area. It had been cleared out as Chuck had ordered, not a soul around but them. He'd even asked his personal guards to hang back at the entrance to this section, giving them further privacy, and assurance no one would interrupt them.
Blair let go of his arm, and walked ahead a few steps, stopping when she'd reached the edge of the water. With her back now to him, she stared out on it as if looking out at the ocean or something much greater and worth such consideration.
"Do you like your new guard?" he asked, wanting some of that attention back for himself. It wasn't really what he wanted to talk about, but the first thing that had came to his mind. That and it was important that she did like him, feel she would be protected by those whose job it was to do so. She didn't turn away from the pond, but he could see her nodding again.
"I do. He's a little on the young side, was telling me how he's new to the guard. But I think that may be a good thing. Sometimes it's good to have someone younger, less bound by tradition and the old way of doing things. Change is important every once in a while," she said. He couldn't help but grin at how in her distracted state, she spoke so very freely. Perhaps it was that they were alone, or she felt more confident without having to see his reaction to her words? But he could tell this was one of those moments where she was giving her real opinion on things. It was so refreshing based on how other women, and other people at court entirely, always held their tongues around him.
"I agree," he approved, meaning to prod her for more. She turned back to look at him, as if him doing so that easily surprised her. Quickly her frown of confusion grew into a smile, but she turned her back quickly as if embarrassed he'd seen her delight in this so much. He didn't know why she should be at this point, as if he didn't see her as she was, as if that wasn't part of the reason, he liked her. He took a step towards her, tempted to reach out and grab her, but restrained himself.
"Go on," he encouraged. "I know you have more to say, you always do."
"I just think it's odd that everyone is so obsessed with preserving the old, to the point they find it very hard to accept any kind of new. When we also acknowledge in other areas of life that we prefer new to old. Would not most of us stay young in age if given the option? Do not most men prefer a young and beautiful wife to an old one? As a woman my social currency began adding up the day I bled, but it depletes each year I grow. And even more awful in my years I am to be my most desirable, I am also to do as I'm told and go where I'm directed, only to get there and begin to be forgotten," she proclaimed, swaying some as she took in a deep breath after not doing so during her speech.
He moved towards her instinctively, worried she'd fall into the water. Where she wouldn't be in very much danger, as it was shallow and no beasts lurked below the surface, but she'd be wet and cold. This would both end their outing abruptly and worst-case scenario could get her sick. She turned around though, as if sensing his movements, and their eyes met.
"Are you listening to me?" she asked, looking somewhat exasperated. He was certain she didn't think he was paying attention to her anymore, and was on her way to being perturbed by it. He smirked, nodding his head.
"The whole lot of it. I just didn't see the need or reason for my input, being you had transitioned to speaking strictly on your experience as a woman which I cannot pretend to possess," he told her.
"Doesn't mean I'm not interested, as I always am when it's something you care about," he furthered.
"While I appreciate that, I'm not just speaking on women, not entirely. That bit, yes was specific, but the grand idea applies to everyone. Why should young people, in the prime and most enjoyable bits of their life, have to be led and controlled by those who are old and near the end? How could they possibly know what makes us happy, or what we need to make it a life worth living? And how can they be so selfish to inflict their wants on us when they had their chance, their day in the sun? It doesn't seem fair. Look at the church for example, does God only acknowledge those over a certain age? Do hearts not matter to him unless they've surpassed a certain year in the life? Why should only old men be placed so highly, be given so much reign over the rest of us?" She stopped suddenly, touching her hands to her stomach, as if to catch herself this time, but not from any fall. Then she looked around cautiously, and he could tell she'd realized how carried away she'd gotten. He didn't bother to look round, as he knew no one was there, but him to hear. And her passion didn't bother him, quite the contrary. Her eyes met his again, but quickly fell. She shook her head.
"You must forgive me. Being out here alone, I thought to speak too freely. I shouldn't criticize the church—"
"Why?" Chuck interrupted, speaking bluntly and honestly. He sounded as if there wasn't one reason, he could fathom she would feel cautiously about her criticizing. She gave him a look. He took the steps he needed to get to her, and then her hands in his.
"I like when you tell me what you're actually thinking. No one ever does. I've told you time and time again when we're alone I want you to speak freely. I know all of you physically by memory now, but it's not enough. I want inside places I can't go, or see into without your permission. I mean what's in your mind, all of it. I want to know it by heart too, like I do your surface. And I like knowing I'm privy to parts of you no one else gets to hear about. It's like it makes them mine in a way, and when it comes to you, I want to possess you entirely," he breathed, leaning in further as he did so.
She stared up at him, very starry eyed, as if he'd presented her with the world. He supposed it was a lot to present a woman with, especially for someone like him.
"What do you think?" Blair asked, sounding very innocent in her curiosity. The question took him by surprise. He'd prepared to delve into her mind today, not his. It was his turn to look round, make sure no one was listening. Only unlike her there was only ever one person he'd worried would overhear him, but he reminded himself his father wasn't back yet. And the guards had cleared out the possibility of anyone else who would be able to report back to him. He could speak freely. Blair didn't say anything else, but she still looked at him longingly for an answer. He wanted to give it to her.
"I think—Well, I think that anyone who would to diminish your light, or that which sparks it would be my adversary by default," he told her. He had intended to say more, but had found he wasn't as ready he thought, so that had come out instead. Blair smiled, but crinkled her nose at him.
"I think that's lovely, but not very much an answer. You do not have to agree with me, if you do not, then say so. I will not be mad," she furthered. Only the way her voice went up at the end suggested she would in fact be slighted if he did not in fact agree. However, that wasn't the problem. He was likeminded with most of what she'd said, but that didn't make them any easier of topics for him.
"Let me put it this way. I think that as acknowledged speaking on these things for you is dangerous for you. Therefore, I commend your bravery in saying them, and I encourage it in the safety of my presence. As for my thoughts on such matters, they are in agreement with yours, mostly. But as a prince, as the heir and future King of England, my speaking on them could be dangerous for everyone," he explained. He'd hoped she'd understand where he was coming from, or at least try to, as he felt admittedly hypocritical having to give her such an answer.
Blair stared at him for a long while, definitely understanding, but not clear yet on whether or not she would also be accepting. She had asked a lot of him in asking these kinds of questions, and he of her in accepting his answers. He had almost become sure she wouldn't, when she finally spoke.
"Mostly?" she asked, and her smile gave away it's joking nature. He laughed, though almost all of it out of relief. He turned to act as if he wanted to look out at the water now, but in reality, was using it to recover.
"You shall tell me what you really think one day though, speak as plainly with me as I do you," Blair followed up unexpectedly. His head snapped back in her direction and their eyes locked. He stared at her peculiarly, initially unsure how to respond.
"Will I?" he asked. He quirked his left brow, as if to indicate he was at the very least curious to see where she planned on going with this one. It was her turn to smirk at him now, and he couldn't help, but acknowledge she was getting somewhat good at forming one on her lips pretty close to his own. She said nothing, and only nodded at him.
And it drove him wild.
His hand shot out to grab her. But one step ahead of his thoughts, as if done so instinctively, she jumped back from him. This triggered an infuriating bit of giggles from her. Then she shook her head as if to tell him 'No touching' like a parent would a child, before grabbing hold of the front of her gown in bunches. She meant to run. He side stepped in front of her, and shook his head slowly.
"Don't. And that's an order," he said, trying to make it sound like a real warning, but the moment being so playful in nature made it hard to do so. She didn't seem the least bit phased as she curled her lips in, as if to suppress more laughter. She was staying still though.
Was it a surrender already?
"I'd like to have you up against a tree," he breathed, leaning in closer. Only when his hands reached for her, she'd pulled away again. She laughed at him as before, but much louder this time.
"You'll have to catch me first!" she yelled back at him, as she sprung forward across the yard. He turned around to see which way she went, and could see she was headed for the maze. So, he braced himself for a run and then followed after her, wondering how she'd been so quick. Until he saw at some point, she discarded her shoes. He slowed at the entrance of the maze, catching his breath, and knowing she went inside. Otherwise, he'd see her as the clearing in front of it was too big for her to have had time to hide or run out of sight. He walked inside, and stopped, already presented with having to go left or right. He scanned both ways for any sign of her. There was one. On the path to the right there was a golden, silk handkerchief sitting atop the gravel as if someone had placed it there. He couldn't help but wonder if she had, or if she'd dropped it on accident. Either way, he figured it his gain and took the path on the right, snatching it up as he passed. He ran the soft, smooth fabric through his fingertips. There were initials embroidered in the corner in white thread.
"BW," he read, knowing they were her initials. Then he brought it up to his face, smelling it as if he could sniff her out like one of his hunting dogs. This of course wasn't the real reason he did this. He just wanted to breathe her in, and it worked, for a minute. But it only made him want her more. He opened his eyes, and slowed as he was presented with another split in paths. So, he pocketed her linens, deciding he'd keep it, as he tried to again pick a path.
Had she left him another clue?
There was nothing on the ground this time. He was almost disappointed in realizing it had been a mistake and not part of the game, when something shiny caught his eye. He moved closer to the object, which turned out to be a gold earring with a single large teardrop pearl. It definitely went with her necklace he'd noticed earlier, and had been placed here purposely. He pocketed the earring and continued on, eager to get to her. Only the next choice in paths didn't come as quickly as the first, or second, but in fact appeared to take longer than both combined before he'd reached it. And the maze while private, was not always shaded. He was finding it hard to walk anywhere along the path that didn't put him what felt like directly under the sun.
"Not now," he growled, stopping for a moment as he felt a surge of pain in his leg. It always came at the worst times. It was like it knew when he was about to have any sort of fun. He did not wish to share in this moment with a dulling sense of pain. He ran his hands over it a few times, rubbing it with some pressure, and hoped it worked when it seemed to alleviate it as he did so. With a sigh of relief, he was able to straighten it out, and continue on. It wasn't too bad, not as bad as it could be. It wasn't back to feeling perfect, but it would have to do. Something seemed on his side though as when he rounded the next corner, he was alas presented with his third option of one way or the other. He slowed his body and mind, in search of the next hint.
He found it on the ground again this time, though not left in the gravel of the path as before. Instead, it was off to the side, in the grass, in a patch of wild flowers that had grown up. There placed delicately atop all the petals, she had left him her… unmentionables. He heard her voice say the world in his head, and he chuckled at the little pun she'd left for him. He had not missed the fact she'd picked one of her undergarments to present to him on a bed of… flowers. He snatched the piece of fabric up and stashed it, wanting to make sure it was not left behind for someone else to find later in the day. Then he began what was a slowed run, as he fought his leg to cooperate with him. He rounded corner after corner, but all he found was continued hedge. He was growing frustrated as time seemed intent on taking even longer before presenting him with another path or piece of her. And then, just as he needed to slow to catch his breath, the green presented him with another opening. Only this time it was not a choice in right or left, but access to a small courtyard and three other pathways that led to it.
It was the middle of the maze.
Determined to find the next clue he walked out into the center of it for a better look at each path. When he got there though he noticed the large oak tree that it had been built around. And there, at the base of the tree, his eye caught something red. He walked towards it, dropping to his knees, and taking the fabric in his hands. Only instead of lifting it with ease, it pulled back some. His eyes followed it, seeing the opposite end of it was around the other side of the tree. It was Blair's dress, the bottom half of her gown from what he could tell. He pulled on it again as if to notify her he was coming, and then followed it to the other side. She stood there, leaned up against the tree, in only her corset and the bodice of her dress. Her legs and bottom half were entirely exposed. She smiled at him, letting go of the skirt of her gown. It fell the to the floor and he stepped over it. His body pushed up against hers, and he pinned her back up against the tree. He reached a hand down to clutch her thigh. The other wrapped up around the back of her neck and head, so he could pull it to him. He kissed and suckled it for a moment; before he opened his mouth and raked his teeth across her skin, upwards to rasp in her ear.
"I don't remember telling you that you could be nude in public." He placed his hand on her thigh, grabbed hold of it, pushed her entire body upwards. He used the knee of his good leg and the tree to hold her up, so that her legs could wrap around his waist. She had already enveloped her herself around him, and hooked her arms around his neck to aid in this.
"You're the prince. Doesn't that mean you decide when we're in public?" She then looked from side to side, but he could tell this was only for playful, dramatic effect. A coy smile dawned on her lips.
"Looks rather private to me, your highness," she teased. She knew using his title sent him one of two ways. The way it worked on him now was a weakness she'd figured out a few weeks into them sleeping with each other. And she used it against him or for him, depending on how one looked at it, as much as she could.
He pulled back slightly to look at her, the bits of sun that peaked through the treetops danced down on her skin. She looked as if she glowed. He slowed in movement, and deepened in desire for her as he brought a hand up to her chin. He held it still for a moment, and then turned it gently to the side so he could see the sun light it up as well.
"All the ways I'd like to have you…" He trailed off, pausing for a moment as he considered them. She felt her body shiver under his, and he chuckled breathlessly in response. He let go of her cheek, and pushed up against her more forcefully.
"Your body wants this too apparently," he acknowledged. He bit the crook of her neck, forcing himself to stop before he went deep enough to draw blood. A quiet moan escaped her lips, but he hadn't missed it. He felt something light up within him at the sound of it.
"What about your mind? Hmmm? Does it want it to? Does it want it now?" It was his turn to toy with her. He felt her arms around his neck tighten, and she pinched at the fabric of his shirt that bunched around his shoulders.
"Please," Blair murmured, but it was quiet. He could tell she had struggled to get the word out. As he wove a hand up between her legs, he suspected this problem would only persist for her.
"You'll have to give me more than that. I want you to say you want it. Say it, like you mean it, because you do. Don't say it if you disagree," he instructed. He wondered if in her state she'd be able to tell he'd taken some of her own words from earlier and twisted them to work for him now. He pulled back, and her eyes shot open, narrowing as if she meant to glare at him.
"Don't," she seethed, reaching a hand down to twist and grip the fabric across his chest. His hand between her legs paused, even though they both knew this wasn't what she'd meant. He smirked at her.
"Don't what? Don't touch you anymore. If you insist—" His words halted as he felt a shift in her body, and her hands unravel from his neck. He feared for a moment she was to run off again, but it fleeted quickly. One hand gripped his shoulder, the other traveling down his chest, his stomach, and then… His eyes flickered back up and locked with hers as he felt her grab hold of him. It had been an aggressive move for her, but he certainly didn't mind it. His eyebrows rose to show her he was both surprised and pleased by her boldness.
"I want it too. I want you in all the ways you could have me," she told him. She spoke with conviction, the exact kind of meaning he'd prompted her for. It was all the confirmation from her he needed. He grabbed hold of her bottom and shifted her upwards, going in once more for her neck again. He felt her fingers rake across his back, her nails pressing through the fabric of his clothing.
"Don't scream too loud. Not all the gardens are empty today. If I feel I need to gag you, I've still got the perfect garment of yours for it right here in my pocket," he murmured, leaving her to wonder whether he meant her handkerchief or her underwear. He wasn't opposed to either personally.
XOXOXOXOXO
Blair's eyes opened, and at the sensation of something warm on her cheeks. Upon doing this she learned quickly it was the sun. She reached a hand up to try and give her eyes a bit more time to adjust. Slowly she lifted her cheek from Chuck's chest, who appeared to still be napping. They had fallen to the floor, at the base of the tree, and dozed off. This was of course after they had reason to, or many reasons to, as Chuck would have put it. She giggled to herself for making a sexual innuendo like he would have, but for only her enjoyment. He would have been proud, had she said it aloud, and he'd been awake. She sat up fully beside him, and looked around the courtyard of the maze. It was still empty, and silent, other than Chuck's breathing beside her. She sighed happily, stretching out her feet and arms. She felt very content with the day so far. Slowly she rose, careful as to not disturb him, and began to collect any and all disregarded items of her clothing still strewn about. She put them on as best she could, trying to smooth them over, and make them look proper enough to walk home. She hoped to do so without anyone noticing how disheveled they actually looked now. She would certainly have to change into a different dress before tonight, which was a bit disappointing.
"Why'd you get dressed? I didn't say I was finished yet," a husky voice called from behind her. She smiled to herself for a moment and then spun around to face a now awake Chuck.
"You've had enough for now," she refused, but playfully. He lowered his gaze at her, distaste at this decision evident. She laughed, shaking her head at him.
"Fine, then I have. If I have any more, I shall sleep the rest of the night. Perhaps that's your game though? Tire me out so I can't come and bother you in the banquet hall while you gamble," she suggested. A look flashed across his face that made her wonder if he'd forgotten of the plans, he'd told her about only earlier that day. Surely, he hadn't. He'd made it seem like Nate and him had this planned out precisely, and they had to be there. He sat up abruptly.
"No. No, I want you to go. I mean—yes, you should come tonight. I want you to be there tonight," he clarified, in more ways than he typically felt he needed to. She cocked her brow at him, tilting her head some as she tried to read him further. He stood up, and regained his composure.
"Well, I'm pretty hungry after all that. You?" he asked casually. He was mostly still dressed, other than his shirt hanging open in the front. She hoped she hadn't ripped it on accident. That would be hard to cover up on their walk back to her apartments. She walked towards him and reached a hand up to look it over.
"Blair?" Chuck asked, sounding confused. She didn't respond, but pulled at his shirt until she confirmed it was not damaged. She fixed it to how it should be, or the best she could do after what they'd put it through. He grabbed hold of her wrists, and her eyes lifted to his.
"I don't care about how the shirt looks. I asked if you're hungry? I want to go back, get something for lunch or whatever is between it and dinner," he reasserted.
She nodded, "Oh yes, I actually am. I suppose we did work up an appetite. We can start walking back. Shall we go to my apartments or yours?" She released her hold on his shirt, and he let go of her wrists. He smiled, likely because she had agreed so easily, or because he really was that hungry. They began their walk back through the maze, which seemed to go a lot quicker than on the way in.
"Do you still have my earring, and my uh… other things?" she asked him, recalling the items she'd left behind for him to maintain her trail. He chuckled, apparently it was a fond memory for him.
"Yes, all back in my pocket. Though one of the items is still a tad wet from being in your mouth," he answered, taking very much pleasure in the way he did so. She blushed at the memory, back in the center of the maze. He had meant what he said about her being too loud, and had made good on his warning in how it would be dealt with. She tried to think of something else to say, but each time she did, her mind drifted back to their courtyard escapades. By the time she'd worked up the nerve again to return to normal conversation, they were out of the maze, and back in the pond garden.
"Will you teach me how to gamble tonight?" she asked him. He looked at her immediately, and she was sure he was trying to figure if he had misheard her. She had never shown an interest in gambling before, but rather the opposite. Despite how much he and Nate enjoyed it, she had never made any effort to try and like it.
"Well?" she prompted further.
"You want to gamble? Like dice games or the tables, meaning cards?" He still sounded very skeptical about this, even as he presented her with the options.
"I don't know. What's most fun? Or what do you think I'd be best at?" she furthered. And she was a little curious which one he would choose for her, even if she knew very little about each. If she recalled correctly Nate preferred the dice games more, and Chuck more drawn to cards.
"Dice games are easier, and quicker. They can be rather loud and exciting, if you're on a streak and everyone has gathered around to join in the bets," he began."
"What's a streak?" she asked genuinely. He didn't seem to mind the interruption.
"A winning streak. If the bets you're placing are landing, and you're rolling right. Only problem is people can be as openly angry about you making bad bets, as they are happy when you're winning," he added, and paused for a moment as if thinking this over. He shook his head.
"No, I don't think I'd like to see anyone yell at you. Not till you got the hang of it. Could spoil the mood," he reasoned, and she wasn't sure if he was doing so with her or himself.
"So, cards then?" she suggested.
Surely, he didn't mean she couldn't gamble at all?
He looked at her as if thinking this over for a moment as well. Then he nodded.
"Yes, cards then. I have a feeling you'll be good at them. If you can put on a good poker face. The idea is to win, but not let anyone know what you've got, until it's too late, and then you've won. In the simplest terms of course," he explained.
Blair stopped for a moment, and he did with her. She smiled to herself, then up at him.
"Sounds like something I would be good at. Sounds like something I would like," she told him.
"Fine then, you can play tonight. But I play with you," he said, and they began to walk again. She rolled her eyes, huffing loudly.
"Like anyone will play with me for real then," she returned. She crossed her arms, but purposefully turned to look at him so he wouldn't miss the pout on her lips.
"They'll play for real if I tell them to. And anyways, you'll need my help. Even if you're a natural at it, you'll still take a little time to catch on. I won't have someone taking advantage of you, or my provided coin, before I'm certain you've got it," he explained. She let her arms fall to her side, and found it hard to argue with such a response. He was only being protective of her, and as he mentioned she'd without a doubt play with his money.
She sighed, "Alright then. You can chaperone me for my first time. But I place my own bets." Her voice rose a little, and she arched her back to stand up straighter. She meant to show him she was serious, even if it all still felt very playful.
"Well then, let us hope you have good odds tonight," Chuck returned, smirking at her. She smiled back at him and then they both looked forward. As they got closer to her apartments, she snuck a glance at him and noticed all evidence of it had gone however. He almost looked troubled about something.
Could it have been something she said? But really how could a silly conversation about gambling tonight lead to anything more nefarious in his mind?
"Your highness. Lady Blair," the sound of her guards greeting them pulled her attention away again. She received them and looked back at Chuck who was still not smirking, but did appear normal now. Perhaps she was overthinking it, and he was just tired after all their activity today.
Yes, that must have been it.
When they got inside her apartments there was already a grand lunch laid out for them. He went and sat down, being served immediately. She lingered in the doorway, holding both sides of it.
"Come eat. We walked a lot," he sighed. He was watching a servant girl fill his cup with wine. Blair felt bad for the girl, as she was sure this only made her more nervous.
"I was thinking of changing first," Blair explained, still hesitating. He shook his head, and their eyes met.
"You can change after, when I leave. You'll have to start the long process of getting ready for tonight anyways. You said yourself that dress needs to be seen to before you can wear it in public again," he reminded her, and a smirk played on his lips; no doubt at the memory of what caused this.
"Fine, alright then," Blair agreed, and she walked over to the table. As she sat down across from him, she examined him more closely. He looked tired, their escapades from earlier had clearly caused him to push himself.
"Perhaps you should have a nap to properly prepare for the excitement of tonight?" Blair suggested. He got this strange look on his face when she said this, and she wondered what it could possibly be for. Then he shook his head, and as if shaking it away, the expression was gone when he stopped.
"I don't need you taking care of me, Waldorf. You're the one who needs looking after," he argued, though he ended it with a yawn. She giggled, and he shot her a sour expression.
"Yes, you have more than enough servants to look after you, I suppose. I just figured it wouldn't be the worst idea. I may take one myself, if I have time," she furthered. It wasn't true, as she knew she would definitely not have time. Chuck didn't respond to this anymore, but instead went quiet for a while. They ate most of their meal in silence, and she thought that even if he were exhausted this was still quite the shift in mood from earlier.
"What are you planning on wearing tonight?" he asked suddenly. Blair quickly finished chewing the food in her mouth and swallowed.
"What?" she asked as an attempt to buy herself more time to respond. It wasn't a hard question, but it had come out of nowhere. She'd had to repeat it back to herself in her head before she'd fully grasped it.
"What gown are you thinking of for tonight?" Chuck restated, though she could sense a slight rise in irritation. She was still perplexed how he had become so touchy, and for no good reason.
"Oh, well I don't know. I hadn't given it much thought yet," Blair admitted honestly.
Chuck picked a piece of fruit up, examining it between his fingertips, before he tossed it to the side in disapproval. He looked up from his plate and their eyes met.
"Nothing red tonight, or too revealing. Perhaps something blue or grey," he told her. It didn't sound like a suggestion at all. She was confused as to why he suddenly cared what she wore.
Or why he wanted to keep her from a color they both knew he loved seeing her in?
"Ummm any reason?" she prompted quietly.
"Because I said so," Chuck returned. He leaned back in his chair, but kept eye contact as he did so. He was using his serious voice, the one that meant the time for challenging was done. But why, and about this? She supposed it didn't really matter to her, but yet she could not escape that such oddness had seemingly sprung up from nothing.
"Alright, no red then. But blue or grey? Those colors aren't very flattering on me. They don't do as well with my skin tone as others do, and I know you know that. We had a whole discussion about it one day and I remembered it because I was very happy to find as a man you had such a sense for fashion—"
"Just don't wear red. A cool color would be better for tonight," Chuck interjected, his voice and stance firm. He picked up his cup and held it out to be refilled. A servant scampered over to pour him more.
"Better?" Blair furthered, knowing there was a good chance she would regret this.
"Do you remember our conversation where I told you there will be times when I tell you to do something, and expect it done without question or objection?" His voice had raised some, but he wasn't yelling yet. She of course knew of the time he spoke. It was the night he'd opened the chest at the end of his bed for the first time and shown her some of his more eclectic tastes in the bedroom.
"I remember," she said softly, nodding her head.
"Good, then do as your told. As I tell you," Chuck ordered in return. He then got up from his seat, and walked round the table, to stand behind her. He leaned down, wrapping an arm across her chest and kissing the top of her head. It was a rather affectionate move, after how cross he'd just gotten with her mere seconds ago.
"Will you do something else for me?" he asked. She could feel his breath on her neck as he spoke. It was very warm, and almost ticklish. She had to try very hard not to shiver or tremble in reaction to it.
"Yes, of course," she managed, but it sounded very breathy. She nodded her head on the small chance he hadn't heard her.
"Be a good girl tonight, my good girl. Regardless of where the evening should take you, I want you to remember that I'm watching. And I expect you to behave a certain way," he told her.
"You mean when we gamble?" Blair asked, trying to tilt her head up so could look at him. She sighed, her face flushing.
"If you're worried, I am going to embarrass you at the card tables I don't have to play tonight. Are you worried I won't do well?" she questioned. She flashed him a look she knew difficult for him to harden to, her brown eyes largening to look like that of a doe. She'd even twisted her voice, to fill it with more innocence than usual.
He raised up and took hold of her chin. He pulled her forward by it a little, and kissed her on the lips. When they pulled back, he shook his head.
"You won't embarrass me, Blair. Today reminded me of why I place so much faith in you. And tonight, I should like to think you shall do nothing other than surpass my expectations of you," he told her.
Blair smiled softly at the compliment, but inwardly frowned in confusion. It seemed such a serious conversation to be only about a night of gambling and partying. What clue was she missing that would make this all make more sense? Or was this really what it was about? And was she merely overthinking it all?
"Your highness, sorry to intrude, but you are needed in the royal offices. Your secretary has an important manner he would like to speak with you on," a guard announced, entering the room. Blair was surprised as they didn't interrupt like this very often.
"Is everything alright?" she asked, looking from the guard to Chuck. The prince was staring at his guard though, as if trying to reprimand him silently for something. Then he nodded, took hold of Blair's hands, kissing them.
"Everything is fine, just royal business you needn't worry about. You need to get ready anyways. I shall see you tonight. Please don't forget our conversation," he said, though he did not pause at all for her to give any kind of response. Instead, he let go of her hands, and mentioned something under his breath to the guard as he followed him out.
It was a rare occurrence for her to feel dismissed by him, but that had come pretty close. She sighed, sitting back in her chair, and pushing the plate of half-eaten food away from her. Along with wondering what on earth that had all been about, she had a very specific dress to find for tonight as well. Though as to why that was, again she did not know. She tried telling herself it was only apart of the game he sometimes liked to play, but something inside her wouldn't accept this. A small weary voice, deep in the back of her mind, was warning her that something was on the rise. She only wished it could tell her what it was.
XOXOXOXOXO
A/N: Next chapter will be juicy. Let me know what you thought of this one.