The Royal Affair

by SimplyShelbySJL

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

30. Gambling with Ghosts

The Royal Affair

Chapter Thirty

GAMBLING WITH GHOSTS

"Open the doors!" Chuck yelled as he stormed towards the royal offices. Both of the guards jumped up; they were scrambling to gather themselves and ready the entrance for him. He walked through it without looking in their direction, and instead entered the office, eyes in search of the royal secretary. As he felt the push of air from the doors closing back behind him, he saw Daniel Humphrey sitting at one of the desks. Dan's eyes widened and he instantly removed his hands from his tousled looking hair, jolting upwards out of his seat.

"Your highness!" he greeted loudly before he lowered his head to a bow. He held it there for a few moments, before cautiously looking back up at the prince. Chuck narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms.

"Is there a reason you sent such an urgent message to come and meet you? A good one, I hope. I was interrupted while with Lady Blair," he informed him.

The other man's eyes fell instinctively and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"I don't believe you'll find the answer you seek on the floor, Humphrey," Chuck furthered.

Dan's eyes shot back up again and he nodded obediently. He brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck, and cleared his throat before speaking.

"Yes, your highness. My sincerest apologies for any intrusion I caused. Only both I and Duke Archibald, though he is currently tied up elsewhere, thought it most important to report how our meeting with Master Wyatt went," he explained, voice dry and nervous.

"You already met with the poet?" Chuck returned, his rigid posture relaxing some. He wouldn't say it aloud, but this had been a good enough reason to interrupt him. It would seem his secretary had impertinent information; and the prince supposed it would be better to hear it now, rather than later when he would come face to face with Wyatt, as well as Blair. He sighed, and groaned inwardly at the thought. While necessary he was not at all looking forward to it; quite the opposite actually. He'd never admit it to Humphrey, or Nathaniel even, but he was downright dreading it.

"Well, how did it go?" he prompted when Dan only nodded in response.

"I was able to deliver the message successfully, your highness. However, the matter of whether or not it was well received—"

"The goal wasn't for him to like it. I was rather hoping he wouldn't," Chuck interrupted, narrowing his eyes again with skepticism. He'd thought his secretary had understood the point of this, but he was beginning to think he'd missed the mark.

"Yes, well I am sorry to report, he has not accepted. Not as of yet, your highness. I believe he will possibly think it over," Dan deduced hopefully.

"Do you really?" Chuck pressed, raising an eyebrow to indicate his doubt. He shook his head disapprovingly.

"Come on, Humphrey. The least you could give me, after failing in this task, is your honesty," he muttered as he moved past him to a table in the corner of the room. He picked up a glass and pitcher from it, and poured what felt like much needed wine.

"I am not sure he means to ever accept it, your highness. And I don't know that he intends on leaving court, not anytime soon at least," Dan admitted finally.

"You say that as if it'll be his decision to stay or go," Chuck remarked before taking a sip of his wine. He kept his back to Dan for a few moments, but then turned around; leaned against the table instead, partially sitting on the edge of it, and held his glass out to him.

"You know, perhaps I went about this wrong. I'm beginning to think your talents could be better applied from a different angle, one more suited to you," he suggested. His secretary didn't seem to know how to react to this, in all probability worried as to where this my lead him.

"How so, your highness?" he petitioned nervously.

"I want you to meet with him again," Chuck told him. The other man appeared to be bemused now, but he did not dare object. The prince sighed, taking another swill of wine, before he continued.

"Give it a little while of course, but meet with him again. This time, on your own terms, or rather, make it seem that way. Make him another proposal, offer to sponsor him yourself," he instructed.

"You would like for I to try and seek his patronage, your highness? I am afraid my coin would not tempt him enough—"

"I will provide you the coin to pay him, but he's not to know this. And still, the offer should be modest, or else he'll know it's not really you behind it. This way though, you'll not only gain access to his writing before others, but perhaps thoughts even he knows better than to write down. Given your successful and make him think you actually like him, that is," Chuck finalized with a scoff. He'd only met Wyatt for a very short amount of time, but he couldn't imagine anyone liking him… well other than Blair. He had unfortunately allowed his mind to entertain this possibility more times than he'd liked to admit.

"Forgive me, your highness, but what makes you think he shall agree to less coin, and from much less prestigious of sponsor?" Dan asked alas, clearly hesitating about it before he could take the plunge.

"Because yours doesn't come with stipulations, or rules, and most notably, it doesn't come from me. So let him right what he wills then, believe that it's safe to do such a thing. I tried giving him a way out; he clearly is against the means to take it. So we shall allow him to write himself into a trap of his own accord then. It's always more satisfying, anyhow. When they know the person, they really have to blame for landing themselves in most unfortunate of circumstances is none other than themselves. If he wants to play then he shall face full consequences when he loses, which I assure you Mister Humphrey, he will lose," Chuck illustrated, a familiar darkness taking over his eyes as he did so. The prince had a certain fondness for this type of play. Something about it seemed directly inline with his true nature. It could not be helped. His secretary seemed to notice this.

"Would I not also be an accomplice in aiding his downfall then, your highness? If I am to feign friendship with him to secure his trust and false sense of security?" Dan asked, and there was a slight bit of objection in his voice.

It took the prince by surprise, so much so that it stunned him into momentary silence. He stared back at the other man, his face registering somewhere between irritated and impressed. Finally, he spoke, and though he did not raise his voice, he did fill it with a solemn sort of intimidation he'd seen the King use before.

"Tell me, Humphrey. What exactly do you think your job is here?"

"Oh well, um I suppose in the simplest of terms to aid and assist the crown in whatever way is needed. Along with helping organize and seeing to royal business for both you and the king, your highness." Dan sounded much more unsure than before.

"What do you think defines royal business?" Chuck questioned further, still staring him down. This seemed to fluster the secretary even more, as it was apparent, he was unsure of what to say now.

"I—I don't know. Lots of things. I suppose it would not be for me to decide what is and is not royal business, but only see to it once identified," he rambled. It was interesting for the prince to actually hear some truth in it, despite how convoluted the statement had been.

"Well, I, the prince, have identified this task with Wyatt as royal business, specifically yours to see to. So, unless you think yourself incapable or unqualified for this, I would advise you see it through. If you think you cannot do so, simply speak now. I'd see no further use for you as secretary, but perhaps when the king returns, he could find some other position for you," Chuck said with a shrug. His voice however was anything, but casual. He doubted someone with the smarts of his secretary could miss such a blatant threat.

"Yes, your highness. Of course, I understand," Dan conceded somberly. It was evident he'd gotten the point the prince had intended to make.

"Very good. I shall look forward to your reports then, when I call upon you for them," he specified. Dan's eyes averted upwards, it being obvious, he caught the intended phrasing.

He was to come when called, not the other way around.

"Will that be all your highness?" he asked, after the two had stood in silence for what likely seemed much longer than it had been in actuality. Yet, it was plenty for the prince.

"Yes, you may go." Chuck nodded with a sigh, waving him off. Dan gave a formal bow, and began his exit from the room. As the guards opened up the doors for him to leave however, the prince called out to him one more time.

"I'd like to think you shall be more successful in this task than you were your former. Just some royal advice." He watched as Dan's back stiffened and then still entirely. He did not move, not even to turn around and accept these definite orders face to face. Chuck wondered if he viewed it as a real threat.

"Yes, your highness," Dan acknowledged alas. Then he nodded his head and left without another word or look in the prince's direction. Chuck found this peculiar, but had a bit too much on his mind to dwell on it for too long after he'd gone.

XOXOXOXOXO

When Blair returned to her bedchambers, she found a few of her ladies in waiting all gathered around her bed. She frowned, stopping in the doorway, and giving a good tap to the floor with her foot. Instantaneously, they each whirled around, looking quite flustered, as they made their greetings.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, talking over them.

"We were just admiring your gift, Lady Blair," one answered.

"Yes, we got a bit carried away. You see even with the royal dressmaker being round so often, it is very rare we see something so beautiful and foreign in style," another offered. The third did not say anything, but merely nodded in agreement.

"My gift? Did the prince leave something for me?" Blair asked. She stepped into the room and they quickly cleared a pathway to her bed. As she walked over to it, she took immediate notice of the most beautiful, emerald green colored fabric, she'd ever seen. It was the deepest, and lushest of greens, like that of ivy that grew alongside the castle walls.

"Oh my," she remarked, bringing a hand to her lips. Up close it was even more stunning.

It was fashioned entirely in the French style of gown, with a square cut neckline and great big bell sleeves that started just at the base of her shoulder. The dress was a satin material, mostly meant to show off its rich color; but across the chest was a strip of black ribbon and different jewels sewn in throughout it. She touched her hands to them, verifying they were real emeralds, encrusted in real gold. Inside the sleeves a darker, velvet green fabric had been sewn in, likely to reveal itself when she danced or brought her arms up for whatever reason. Placed neatly beside it was a matching French style hood headpiece. It was the same color as the dress, the lining of it also detailed with the ribbon, gold and emeralds. She'd received plenty of lovely dresses since she'd came to court, but this one was more than that. Not only was it gorgeous, but it looked like home. It had definitely been made by a French seamstress or dressmaker. It wasn't someone trying to replicate a style foreign to them, but one they knew and loved. It was spectacular.

"Where did this come from? Was it the prince?" Blair erupted into questions, turning again to her ladies. Her voice rose with slight irritation as she'd already asked some of them before. All the girls looked to her wide eyed, and shook their heads.

"We don't believe so, Madame. When your guard received it, he told us that it came from France. It was made for you there," one of the girls clarified.

"Well, that doesn't mean the prince couldn't have sent off for it then, does it? Besides, a garment of this quality would be quite expensive with the jewel work. Who else would send me such a gift? If it had been my mother, she would have written to me, and were she to spend this much money on a gown I don't think it would be in this color," Blair reasoned. Her mother's designs were capable of being as beautiful as this one, but it was unlikely she would have made something like this for Blair. She'd always maintained Blair should wear warm colors, as they were 'much more flattering on her frame'. She'd also made it a point to lecture her about dressing in the style of her new country, as to not insult her future husband or people at court. Advice Blair had not really listened to, but Eleanor back in France had no way of knowing that.

"Perhaps the person left a note, somewhere on the dress?" one of the girls suggested.

Blair thought this unlikely; but gently reached down to the bed to sort through the fabric, without damaging the gown. She was about to give up, when she felt paper on the inside of the bodice. Carefully she wove another hand inside, and discovered that a ribbon had been used to secure a small wrapped piece of rolled parchment within it. She retrieved it, and looked at her ladies who were all awaiting eagerly for the mystery to be solved.

"Take the dress and get it ready for me to wear tonight. One of you can do that, and the rest of you can go and run me a bath," she instructed. She decided she'd like to have some privacy before she opened it. The girls made no moves to hide their disappointment, but begrudgingly seemed to agree as they each bowed and left the room. Blair rolled her eyes at their need to let her know of their displeasure, as if it was supposed to matter to her. She took a seat on her bed, where the dress had been taken from by one of her ladies, and uncurled the piece of parchment. It read:

Deep in the realm, where colors bloom,

A gift of emerald's verdant plume,

A dress, in French fashion's tender embrace,

A tapestry of home, a cherished grace.

Behold, fair lady, this woven art,

A piece of France, a beating heart,

Where memories dance, like whispers' grace,

Bound in threads, with elegance and trace.

French hands did weave this tender dress,

With love's caress, they did profess,

For in each stitch, a story's unfold,

A tale of longing, tender and bold.

A mother's design, a maid's skilled hand,

Crafted with care, like castles of sand,

They held you close, both near and far,

In every seam, love's eternal memoir.

Yet the patron, a mystery untold,

From shadows of past, now to behold,

A familiar soul, a cherished bond,

Whose presence will make your heart respond.

Let this emerald gown, in folds of green,

Unveil the secrets that lie between.

The French essence it holds within,

A homecoming gift, love's sweet chagrin.

May this gift, dear lady, ever impart,

A connection to home, deep in your heart.

For in this dress, French hands did impart,

A love as timeless as the finest art.

Blair gasped, and then inhaled sharply when her body seemed to finally realize she had not breathed at all as she'd read the note.

Only it wasn't just a note, was it?

It was a… poem; and one with a familiar tone at that. It bothered her how carefully crafted the words had been, suited to trigger her in such a way that only someone who knew her could possess. There had only ever been one person she'd seen write like this. Quickly, her eyes scanned over each word again, and she read a second time to see if perhaps she could get some other feel from it.

She couldn't.

In fact, it had been more damning the second time as she'd not read it in her inner voice, but his.

"What have you done, Tom?" she whispered, closing her eyes.

Could it really be him? But how could he have afforded such a dress? And why would he send it now, all the way from France? That was where her lady in waiting had said the guard told them it had come from. Also, the poem had seemed to imply it was one of her mother's designs, and perhaps even sewn by her maid Dorota, which it would have been had it been one of Eleanor's gowns. Only, that would make even less sense. She couldn't see her mother being too thrilled about making anything for her from Tom. She had never been a big fan of his, always saying things like, 'Words may be nice, but they aren't worth very much'. Although Tom had come from a decently esteemed family, her mother had decided he had zero potential the moment he'd picked up his pen. Blair could remember how happy Eleanor was when she'd found out he had gone off and married some other girl.

'He did you a favor. A man like that will never provide the kind life the woman you shall be deserves'.

Her mothers' words echoed in her head. Blair hadn't found it very comforting at the time, but she could see the sense in it now that she was older. She squinted her eyes at the elegant cursive writing.

Was it his?

She unfortunately had nothing, but memory to compare it to. All the poems he'd written and given to her had been left back home in France, if not burned one night when she got a bit too upset. Her instincts told her she knew these words to be his, with or without anything physical to liken them to. But it was hard to accept, as there were a lot of factors that didn't make any sense.

Perhaps the dress was designed by her mother, and sewn by Dorota as the poem suggested? Was it possible it'd only been mere coincidence Tom was in town while it was being made? And had heard about it from his maid via Dorota, or his mother via his own gossiping about it?

If he had it would not be unlike Tom to try and slip her a note, even more likely for it to be a poem. They had not parted on the best of terms, but last he knew she had cut things off with him to get closer to the king of France. Though if he'd gotten intel from his maid, he would know she was now engaged to Thomas Grey, a man who'd just become a prince of England. Not that status titles had ever meant much to Tom, but he knew they did to her.

Maybe this poem was just some way to acknowledge her raised status in life, perhaps even try and poke a little fun at her for it?

"Mother must have sent the dress to congratulate me on my future husband's new rank and title. It's the only reason she would spring for such gems on a gown. I shall think a letter will follow shortly from home to explain it all. Not the Tom bit, but Dorota could have placed it in there for him easily without mother knowing," Blair reasoned, only realizing after she'd said all this aloud. Her eyes widened and flickered around the room to make sure no one had entered without her realizing. Once she'd sorted out that she was alone, she placed a hand to her chest to try and calm it. It had beat quicker than usual under her palm.

As the fear began to subside, something else began to build in her. She felt angry, livid at Tom for taking such a risk.

How could he say such things about her still, let alone write them down and send them to her at court?

While she hoped news of her and Chuck's affair had not reached the French court, he would have had to have known about her engagement. And while he'd never taken much seriously, surely, he'd known for her sake this must be dealt with caution. It was why she had asked him to forget her, to never speak of her or their time together again. But now he was attaching secret love poems inside of gowns from her mother, sent all the way from France? It was bad enough Wolsey was intercepting her letters, what if by chance this had been looked over? What if this note had been found, and gotten into the prince's hands? She felt her throat go dry, and her heart sink to the pit of her stomach at the thought. She could see his dark eyes staring her down already, consumed by so much fury and betrayal. If he were to ever read these words, she feared it could be the end of them, the end of her.

"It's just a letter, and all the way from France. Words cannot hurt you so long that you conceal them," she whispered to herself. Her hands closed around the rolled-up parchment, and she squeezed tightly as if to try and squash it from existence entirely. When it didn't work, her eyes scanned the room frantically for the best place to hide it. Then it occurred to her she could burn it, only there was no fire presently lit. Well, she could always burn it later, sometime when Chuck wasn't around. It would be too big a risk to take it from the room, even if to try and toss it into another fireplace. No, it would be best to stash it somewhere in her room for now, and burn it later at the first chance she got. She bit her bottom lip, and tapped her foot nervously.

But where to put it?

Her eyes landed on a vase of flowers on the mantle of her fireplace. Easily accessible enough, close to where she'd need it to be later, and likely not an object Chuck would ever mess with. With haste she moved towards it, reaching her hand up, and then down into the flowers to find somewhere she could place the note. It took her a moment to get it situated to a point where she was confident it would not fall out. When she pulled her hand back though she saw her tediousness about it had paid off, as she could not see any of the note at all. She breathed a sigh of relief, stepping back away from it. It felt good to put some distance between it and herself. For the words, while they had been very lovely, were more dangerous to her than anything. It had turned out her mother was wrong about Tom's words never being worth much, as the current sinking feeling in her stomach proved otherwise. Such words could mean and amount to a great deal, if read and interpreted by the wrong person. But she needed to let go of that now. She had to get ready. She considered not wearing the dress, but figured she may as well have it seen by Chuck and addressed so he didn't somehow hear about it later, and ask why she'd never worn it. She would tell him it was one of her mother's designs sent from home; and seeing as he had request, she not wear a warm color tonight, she'd thought it fate for it to arrive in time for her to wear it. The real story that went along with the dress wouldn't do, so she would craft one for it that would.

Yes, that was the best course of action she could take now, she told herself again and again.

"Lady Blair, your bath is ready," Jenny Humphrey's voice called out to her, as the girl appeared in the doorway. She hadn't been one of the ladies there when the dress had arrived, but Blair was certain the others would say something about it, if they hadn't already. She supposed it didn't matter. She'd required loyalty of Jenny when she'd joined her ladies in waiting, and not gossiping about Blair definitely fell under that.

"Alright," Blair sighed, nodding her head, and following Jenny to the room they'd prepared her bath. She hoped she had some time to soak, relax a little, try and clear her mind. It felt quite agitated from the events of the afternoon, and she could only pray the evening would not follow similar suit.

XOXOXOXOXO

Chuck entered the grand banquet hall to see it done up quite lavishly for the evening. The servants had come through and draped colorful satin material over the walls in the area where numerous gambling tables had been set up. They were covered with light blue silk tablecloths, either set up with ornate looking gold trimmed cards or ivory carved roulette tables. There were candelabras placed everywhere it were feasible, showering everything in a warming glow. He stopped at a table, reaching down, and picking up one of the chips. Tonight, they looked like seashells, only smoother, and less natural in color. They were different shades of pink and blue. He had a feeling Blair would like them, even before he'd explained to her how much money each was worth.

"What do you think, your highness?" Nate asked, appearing by his side. He looked around with pride at the room. This was due no doubt to the fact that Chuck had assigned him the task of putting the evening together.

"You outdid yourself, Nathaniel," he complimented, trying not to insult his friend by sounding too surprised. It wasn't that he thought Nathaniel incapable of performing a task, far from it, but he'd never thought he could execute one like this with such style.

"I had a bit of help in the design," Nate offered with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Lady Serena?" Chuck returned, though by the look on his friend's face he already knew the answer.

"Uh yes, she's actually not bad at this type of stuff. She said she used to help her mother in organizing balls and banquets like this. Well before, you know she went to live at their estate in the country," Nate explained.

Chuck merely nodded, remembering what Nathaniel was referring to of course. His father had sent his mistress, Lily, away when it was announced they'd be getting a new queen. Chuck had thought this both silly and unnecessary at the time. His father seemed somewhat happy with Lily around, and his new relationship was clearly strictly business. So as the king why not just keep her there behind closed doors, and himself happy? He couldn't understand why he would do it simply to place value in Catherin's happiness. Who cared about how she felt?Chuck clearly didn't. Her feelings, along with her son's, were nothing but at best an annoyance to him and at worst an incredibly daunting roadblock in his… happiness.

"Blair is coming tonight, then?" Nate spoke up.

"Yes. I spent today with her," Chuck confirmed.

"And Wyatt?" Nate implied, lowering his voice some.

"He's coming. I have Humphrey working on it. Though there's been a slight change in plans. I'm having him offer to sponsor his poetry now," Chuck told him. He glanced around to make sure no one was listening, but confirmed only servants occupied the room. And they seemed rather busy with the last-minute details, most of them keeping a distance from the prince as if to avoid being interrupted and tasked with something else.

"With your coin I take it?" his friend replied, chuckling some.

"Yes, of course. But Wyatt isn't interested in my coin, or my rules that come with it. He's intent on doing as he pleases. So, I shall have Humphrey there to catch him when he takes it a step too far," Chuck explained briefly. It would be better to go into more detail when they were fully alone, behind the heavy doors of the royal offices.

"Why don't you just banish him from court? Make this easier on yourself and get rid of him. It's not like you need a real reason. You're the prince—"

"I want him to leave on his own accord, or because there's nothing for him here. And he sees that," Chuck interrupted, his voice tenser than before. He could tell Nate took note of this also, as his friend eyed him carefully before proceeding in the conversation.

"There is nothing here for him. I mean Blair and you… even that aside, she's engaged to—"

"I told you I don't want to talk about that," Chuck retorted, speaking through clenched teeth. He brought a hand to his temple, and rubbed it with a sigh.

"Yes, of course, your highness. I meant no offense. Only that Lady Blair is no longer an option for Wyatt now that you're in the picture. You win by being the prince. She's not going to leave you for him, not that she could. Even if she were to try though you could easily have them found, and punished. I do not see the point in giving the pretense that he has any options here," Nate said quickly.

"And neither does Blair according to you. She's stuck with me, against her will," Chuck bit back. He didn't understand how Nate didn't see how insulting his words were.

"That is not what I meant, your highness. I don't believe it needs to be acknowledged Lady Blair has chosen to be with you, despite all the circumstances you do not wish to discuss," Nate told him.

"Yes, but with how you put it in making that decision, and it being me, she's now got no way to go back on it or change her mind—"

"Yes, because you are the prince. Do you think maidens whom gain princes attentions only to do so to wake up one day and be like hmmm… well I've climbed rather high in life, but today I feel like plunging back down to the bottom. I know, how about a poet instead? Especially not when said prince has a habit of being insanely jealous," Nate muttered sarcastically.

"Insanely jealous?" Chuck spat, feeling his face go hot. He shook his head.

"I am not insanely jealous. And you cannot seem to grasp that I want Blair to want me for more than my title. Not because she's reached, as you put it, so highly in life. Or worse, because she feels like she's trapped and has no option but to withstand my company. Wyatt seems to think he's been granted access to parts of her no one else has, and no I don't mean physically before you start in on that again. He speaks in those wretched poems of his like he's seen into her heart, captured it even. He implies he's found some kind of window into her soul. And while you may have not given Blair much mind to realize she's got a tower of walls before you even get a mere glimpse inside, I however am much familiar with the climb. I want to know her, and she know me, above all others. And I want her to want this with me, not him," Chuck revealed. Nate's face feigned surprise. Chuck had spoken more personally to his friend than he ever had before.

"That sounds something like love, your highness," Nate returned, though very carefully.

Chuck didn't say anything, but narrowed his eyes into a glare. Then he shook his head at him. It wasn't to deny Nate's statement, but to disregard it.

"You know, it's possible, when she sees Wyatt tonight, that she could feel all that for you, and still resort to a human emotion, yes?" Nate spoke up finally. Chuck felt his back stiffen and his body go rigid at his friend's words.

"Only if she still has feelings for him," Chuck muttered in retort.

Nate sighed, "Feelings are not that simple, your highness. As humans we cannot shed them like feathers. They are more comparable to veins, rooted down deep within us. We keep them beneath our skin, hopeful they do not burst—

"You sound as if you've been reading too much poetry, Nathaniel. I'd prefer you say things more like yourself," Chuck criticized, shaking his head at him.

"And I will not share her, or her feelings. If they are to be mine, then they're mine only. Along with all other parts of her. That is what I will, that is what will be," he reiterated.

Nate stared at him in silence, as if he was thinking over whether or not to protest again. Then finally he sighed, and nodded somewhat begrudgingly. He looked at Chuck with the sort of frustration one would at a child who could not be compelled to understand why they couldn't have their way. Only, a child could be put in timeout if not willing to see reason where as the prince could have someone thrown in the dungeon for simply disliking them. He hoped Nathaniel had enough sense to see the difference in consequence.

"Look your highness, I did not mean to speak out of turn. I do not wish to spoil the evening, or your fun, in any way. Let us move on, please. We shall drink to the games tonight, and the odds being in your favor for all things that are to transpire," Nate spoke up, offering the olive branch with a friendly smile and gentle pat on Chuck's back.

Chuck felt his defenses dissipate, as he realized it was indeed his best friend before him. Nathaniel was the one person who was always on his side, and he felt a tad twinge of guilt for getting so angry with him; even if he still felt justified in his reasoning for doing so. He sighed, nodding his head.

"That sounds good, Nathaniel. It's about time for people to start arriving anyhow. Best to get a head start on the drinking before Blair and Serena arrive. I take it she's your date for the evening?" he asked as he followed his friend to the buffet table. No expense had been spared there either. Along with every delicacy one could imagine, there seemed to be an endless line of wine barrels arranged; they'd each been given spout so people could refill their glasses easily.

"I thought you would approve of this particular touch," Nate acknowledged, tapping on the spout.

"But as for Serena, I suppose. I haven't seen much of her the last couple of days actually, not since she helped me draw up the plans for all this. I'm to assume she's busy with women things." He then held out his hand, and a servant appeared with two cups. His friend filled both to the brim, and handed one over, spilling some on the floor in the process. The nearby servant sighed, leaning down to tend to it. Both Chuck and Nate stepped around them, walking over to stand somewhere they could watch people as they entered. Slowly guests began to wonder in, mingling with one another, and occasionally approaching to greet the prince. As the room began to fill, the air seemed thicker with anticipation. People seemed excited for the organized games they were to provide that evening.

"Do you see Blair?" Chuck asked, his eyes glancing around the room just in case he had missed her at the entrance. He saw many faces, some familiar, but hers was not among them. He also had yet to see Wyatt. He wondered if there was a chance he wouldn't show. And was there a part of Chuck that just wished he didn't? Even though it had been he to organize it all to begin with?

"I should say yes," Nate remarked suddenly.

"I mean, there she is. Is that not her?" he asked, sounding somewhat flustered. Chuck frowned at him, but saw he was motioning back towards the entrance. His eyes averted towards it, and he saw her.

Blair waltzed through the large grand doors of the hall, a crowd parting for her as she made her way towards them. It was evident she'd spotted him before he had her. She smiled at him, and he couldn't help, but return the gesture. His eyes raked over her slowly. She wasn't wearing red, and yet it wasn't what he had been expecting. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen her in this gown before. Which was a shame, because it looked as if it had been made for her. It was a deep, luscious green color; and there were emeralds sewn into the neckline, which was just revealing enough to still be tasteful. He watched as she turned the heads of those she passed, both male and female. The men gawked at her in a way that made Chuck uncomfortable, and the women stared at her with envy about as green as the gown she wore. Atop her long, dark curls was a matching, French hood style headpiece. It reminded him of the type of things she wore when she first arrived to court, before he'd gifted her with so many English styled gowns. He regretted not having more fashioned for her in this style now though, as she seemed more comfortable in it, and in turn more beautiful.

"I'm not late, am I?" she asked innocently, her eyes looking around as she took in the scene of cards and roulette wheels. Her eyebrows raised at the sound of glasses clinking, and people cheering; it seemed to excite her.

"No, but you're stunning," Chuck answered, unable to take his eyes off of her. She looked back to him as if surprised by the comment, and then blushed as her eyes averted to the floor.

"You do look nice," Nate admitted, though he said it much more casually and with a shrug.

"Thank you," Blair replied, nodding in his direction.

Chuck wanted her to look at him. He reached his hand out for hers, as if to try and physically grab hold of her attention. Her grin grew as his fingertips traced over her hand, though she did not open her palm so that he could take hold of it. But she did look up at him, and meet his eyes again, which was enough.

"Are you sure you two can make it through a game tonight?" Nate interrupted, giving them both a look. Blair rolled her eyes at him, but Chuck didn't even bother to shoot him a glare. He didn't care enough to do so if it meant he'd have to stop looking at her.

"Will you explain the games for me then, before we play?" Blair asked, and it took him a moment to realize she was speaking to him. Which afterwards made him feel like an idiot, considering she had stared right at him as she'd asked this.

"Of course," he agreed with a nod.

"Well, that won't take two people. I think I shall go ahead and join in on a game. I'm feeling lucky," Nate remarked before he excused himself. It wasn't too long after before his voice was the loudest among the laughter and cheering from the roulette tables.

Chuck used this opportunity to take a step closer to her, pressing the front of his body to her back. He leaned down closer to her ear, and spoke softly, but strongly so that she could hear him.

"I present you with the intriguing world of gambling, Waldorf. You can go at your pace as you breathe it all in. We shall start by watching a game of roulette. Take notice of Nathaniel playing over there. Observe closely, for it's a game that relies on both luck and astute decision-making," he explained. He then reached a hand up to pull some of her hair back, so that it was out of the way. In doing so he exposed her neck though which he realized may have been a mistake. He felt himself fighting the urge not to lean in and kiss it, despite the room full of almost every important member of court. She turned to look at him, and he sighed with relief as their eyes met. It was just enough to distract him from her nape.

"The objective in this game, is to predict where the ball shall land. See how the wheel is numbered, and the numbers in either red or black? It is up to the player to decide not only what number, but what color, and will it be odds or evens?" Chuck then motioned to Nate, who was about to physically demonstrate for her. Blair turned to watch him, and he almost regretted instructing her to do so, before he was able to remind himself how ridiculous he was being.

Nate approached the roulette wheel, a small ivory ball in his hand. He then placed it on the wheel, and it began to spin so fast the numbers all seemed to blur together into one. He called it, and Chuck watched as Blair stood up on her tippy toes, and cocked her head to try and get a better view. He smiled, and took hold of her hand to guide her closer to the table. Once there, she continued to watch as her eyes gleamed with curiosity. She then turned to him, as Nate and the crowed cried out in excitement.

"So, I take it the anticipation lies in placing wagers on the outcome then?" she asked him.

"Correct. The wagers may vary in their nature and stakes. Some prefer a more cautious approach, while others, like Nathaniel or myself, embrace the thrill of the risk. Which do you think your inclination would be?" Their eyes were locked with one another's again, and he watched as her expression revealed she'd given the question some thought. Then she answered with a coy smile.

"I've always believed in calculated risks, your highness."

Chuck felt something in his stomach flutter. Her answer had been more than he could have hoped for. She was so good at conversation with him. It made all others bore and pale in comparison. Hers were so fun, filled with wit, back and forth in the best of ways. He reached down to the table and picked up a handful of different colored chips. His palm opened, and he held them up to reveal them to her. She looked down at them in admiration, running her fingertips over the smooth surface of them. Only as she did so, every so often, her fingertips would grace the skin of his palm. His body ached to shudder in response, but his will was able to keep it in check.

"The different colors represent different values one can choose to wager. All you really need know now is the ones you would play with, the pink ones, are worth a lot more than the blue," he informed her. Though he didn't find this part very important. He didn't care how much money she'd wager, win, or lose. He watched her as her eyes lifted from the chips to dart around the table. She was calculating the odds. He smirked.

"I see your wit is what I expected," he complimented. Blair blushed, though she gave him a determined sort of smile and nodded. He took hold of her hand again, and led her from the roulette tables, over to the ones set up for cards instead. She slowed as they approached one where other people, mostly men, were already seated. He could tell she felt somewhat intimidated.

"Don't worry, Waldorf. You're with me," he whispered to her. Her feet began to work again at these words, and they both arrived at the table. Instantly, everyone around it stood up and bowed for Chuck.

"It's fine, let us just play cards," Chuck told them, motioning for them to sit back down. Once they had listened, he pulled Blair's chair out for her, and sat down beside her. He could tell this surprised some of the older men around the table, while the younger ones looked on curiously. It's not that there weren't women playing at other tables, but only not this one. This was likely because the stakes at this particular table were very high. There were no blue chips to be found.

"This one's a little different. With poker, it requires strategy and skill, but also a keen eye for deception. Think you're up to the task?" he asked. She turned to look at him, opening her mouth as if to speak, but the words seemed to hang in her throat, as none came out. Then she closed her mouth and nodded with a smile instead.

"In this game, everyone receives a hand of cards, and the main objective is to create the best possible combination or at least convince others of your hand's superiority," Chuck furthered. He motioned to a man across from them who was shuffling the deck of cards with ease, as if he'd done it a hundred times before. He then dealt two cards to each player, Blair watching with great intrigue as he placed hers in front of her. Chuck leaned in closer, lowering his voice.

"These two cards are yours, and they're known as the 'hole cards. But do remember, there shall also be five community cards placed face-up on the table. See, look there now. It's from those cards that you'll form your final hand," he explained. He paused for a moment to make sure she didn't look confused, but she only looked back with great interest. She nodded at him attentively.

"So, I am to analyze the strength of my hand; but also make bets with the intent on deceiving other players into thinking my cards are superior, even if they're not?" By the way her voice went up at the end, he could tell it was a genuine question. He nodded, still impressed by her ability to catch on so quick.

"I should say in concept alone you've grasped this quite effortlessly," he praised, and then nodded to the table.

"Indeed, you shall have to navigate the art of bluffing, and reading your opponent's intentions as well. But I have a feeling you shall also find this element of the game to your liking."

"Well, let us play then," Blair returned.

"Very well. Let us begin by placing the initial bets. Remember, you can raise, call, or fold based on your confidence in your hand." He motioned down towards her cards again.

They each placed their bets, the prince immediately encouraging her to up hers. Once she'd done so, their fingers deftly began to navigate through the chips on the table. As the game went on, Chuck explained all sorts of different poker hands to her, and the strategic choices that could arise with each round. Blair listened to all of it, and most considerately. At no point did she struggle to grasp a concept, but instead rapidly continued to catch on. Throughout the game, to the other players surprise, although not Chuck's, Blair proved to be a formidable opponent. She skillfully analyzed each hand, while employing well-timed bluffs to keep the other men at the table on their toes. And she managed to do so while also continuing to engage in the occasional playful banter and shared laughter with the prince.

As the final community card was revealed, Chuck watched as Blair's face lit up with pure delight. She placed her last bet more confidently than all the previous ones. Then she looked to him with a smile.

"Your highness, I do believe it is time to reveal our hands, is it not?" She was waiting for his confirmation. He nodded and reached his hand down to the table to reveal his cards first. Noise erupted from those who'd gathered round to watch the game, and as each man revealed their hand, it became easily evident the prince had the best among them.

"Your turn," he encouraged, looking to Blair again.

She bit her bottom lip, and then sighed, quickly turning her cards over.

It was she who now had the winning hand. He smiled and it was the first time in his life he ever felt so happy about losing.

"Oh, so you won then?" she asked, and he laughed. He shook his head.

"No, darling. I didn't win. You did," he informed her. Her eyes lit up with instant excitement and she shot up in her seat, clapping her hands together.

"I won? On my first time?" she asked as she sat back down. Her eyes looked round the table, as if someone else planned to tell her differently. Instead, all she saw was a group of men each having their own reactions to losing not only to a woman, but a first-time player.

"I promise you won," he assured her with another chuckle.

"You are proud of me then?" she returned, her smile spreading into a much larger grin. He nodded at her, and it grew even more. She giggled with delight and leaned forward across the table, raking in all the chips, and pulling them towards her.

"How much money is this?" she asked him curiously, her left eyebrow raising as a man across from her got up and walked away swearing. Chuck rolled his eyes at him.

"Don't mind him. It's a lot. They'll count them for you at the end when you settle, let you know how much you've won," he told her, motioning over to the stands that had been set up to do just this.

"And I get to keep it? But it wasn't really my money I bet—"

"You won it, Waldorf. I want you to have it. Besides I'm sure you'll find something to spend it on. More pretty gowns perhaps," he suggested, and his hand reached down to grab hold of her dress. He held it out to her playfully, running his fingertips over the smooth material of it.

"It was from my mother," she said suddenly. He looked up to her, wondering what made her say this. Then he nodded and let go of the fabric.

"It suits you very well. You were right about her designing pretty gowns. You'll have to ask her to make more for you. I can pay for them, and the materials," he offered.

"Yes—yes, I'd like that. Though she doesn't sew it herself, just does the design. It was my maid Dorota who did it for her. You know I've told you about her," she furthered. Chuck recalled the stories about her maid with ease as Blair brought her up often. It was evident the woman meant a lot to her, perhaps more like a mother than her own ever really had been. He could tell she was one of the things about France Blair missed most.

"Does your mother still employ her, now that you're gone? Does she still need her, I mean?" he asked.

Blair shrugged, "I suppose. It would appear she finds use for her, though it would seem nowadays it's all tasks that could be done by anyone really. But Dorota is the best, and it makes sense for mother to want to keep her in the family. I'd want her help with my own children if I had—" She paused, and then shook her head, and looked away from him. It was clear she was nervous she'd said something she shouldn't have. He reached under the table and took hold of her hand to let her know he hadn't cared.

"I miss her," she admitted quietly. He wanted to embrace her, but knew this was unwise. So instead, he squeezed her hand again, and then began to trace over the top of her knuckles with his fingertips.

"You shall see her again, Blair. I promise. I am sure your mother intends to visit you before too long, and I can arrange for Dorota to accompany her. I'm willing to foot the bill for her to travel if that's what it takes," he promised. He didn't want to see her upset, especially not so soon after winning her first ever poker game.

"Thank you," she breathed. She closed her eyes for a moment as if to regain composure, and it worked. When she opened them again, she appeared almost exactly as she had right after winning the poker game.

"Shall we play again, or are we to try roulette next?" she asked him eagerly. He chuckled. Her ability to bounce back had always astounded even him.

"Whatever you want. You tell me, Waldorf."

XOXOXOXOXO

Blair sighed as she pushed herself up off the throne, and carefully made her way down the steps to the main floor. It was almost midnight now, though very few people had retired for the evening. If anything, there seemed to be more guests than before, though they were dispersed evenly among the dance floor, banquet area, and gambling tables. She had played poker with Chuck for quite a while, and then roulette with both he and Nate. Only after so many games, she grew a little tired of it. She could tell he still wanted to play though, and perhaps some on his own where he didn't have to watch over her the entire game. She found this to be understandable and she was a tad hungry anyways. So, she had agreed to meet back at the thrones with him later on. Only that had also gotten a little boring, and time was moving much slower than she'd thought it would. This was how her eyes and heart had drifted to the dance floor, feeling the magnetic pull it always seemed to possess despite it being so far away from her. It was there she'd seen a girl dancing whom she was certain was Serena; and felt it gave her the perfect excuse to wander over to it. Even if she didn't dance, it would be nice to get a closer look.

She had wondered where her friend had been most of the night, as had Nate. She'd heard him make several comments about Serena's absence while they'd gambled earlier. It was clear he felt some neglected. Blair didn't find this very surprising, but decided it best not to share that as her loyalties remained with her friend first. And it was very possible Serena had moved on to the next beau, as she often did when she tired of the former. It was a pattern of her friend's. Blair was some surprised Nate didn't already know this as Serena had been labeled a bit of a heartbreaker in both the French and English court.

"B!" the familiar voice of her friend shouted over the rest of the partygoers. Blair spun around in the direction she thought it had come, and called back out to her as loud as she could; Then finally, she spotted her friend, and reached her hands out for her

"S! I've been looking for you all night! I can't believe you left me to such boredom at the tables whilst you were out there living it up on the dance floor," Blair scolded, though her tone was lighthearted. It wasn't like she could really dance tonight anyways, not unless Chuck was up for it. The prince had been pretty clear in the past he was not willing to watch her out there with anyone else. And yet, she couldn't help, but feel a little jealous towards Serena who had the freedom to dance with whoever and at whatever time she wished. There was something very freeing about it, as dance should be. And while Chuck had been one of her favorite dance partners, their chemistry during it almost too much for her, he couldn't do it as much since the accident. Serena had carried on though, either with Nate, or numerous other young men of court. It seemed tonight she had found a good one too. Blair couldn't make him out from how far she'd been seated, or if he was even good looking, but she could see he could dance. And that was putting it mildly. The man, whoever he was, moved as an excellent dancer did. In fact, she was certain he'd spent time learning how in the French court. It was almost enough for her to want to ask to meet him, always eager for conversation revolving around home.

Perhaps he was French? Surely the prince could not begrudge her for wishing to speak to Serena's friend, who also happened to be of her native tongue?

Serena grinned back at her, grabbing onto her hands as they greeted one another.

"B! It was so much fun! You know what it's like to have a partner that can actually keep up with you. Nate though handsome, bless his heart, cannot move as such," Serena told her, both of them sharing in a giggle at the thought of Nate dancing. Serena then pulled her closer, and lowered her voice as if she meant to reveal a secret.

"In fact, you must see my partner up close. I think it shall explain how he moves as such," she told her, and pulled away from her before Blair could fully respond.

"Why? Is he French?" Blair asked with a laugh, turning around to look and see which direction she went. The blonde disappeared behind the bodies of other members of court for a moment, but eventually Blair spotted her making her way back. She was clearly guiding someone over to her, by the hand, but with all the people she still couldn't make out who. So, she waited patiently, preparing herself to speak in French, and admittedly a little excited for it. It had been so long since she'd seen anyone from her native court. It would be nice to see someone who wouldn't judge her right off the back for being from France, but rather initially connect with her for it. The only way it could have been better, would to have been a woman so she could see them often. Since this was clearly one of Serena's many beaus though, or at least Blair had guessed as such since they'd danced together, Chuck couldn't hold it against her for merely being introduced to him. She put on her most welcoming of smiles, and turned to face them as she heard Serena speak as they approached.

"Bonjour, monsieur. Je ma pelle—" The words halted in her throat, and she felt the smile fall from her face. There was no need for French, though this person spoke it very well. Instantly, she felt her entire body tense over and she took a step back from them as if it would somehow help the situation.

This couldn't be happening. How was this happening?

"Hello, Blair," Tom returned with quite the grin.

The material of Blair's gown suddenly felt much tighter on her than before. She regretted wearing it now more than ever.

How had she been so delusional to allow herself to accept her own explanation she'd crafted for it? But how was he here? And why was he here, and now?

She blinked her eyes a few times, hoping she'd imaged it. Of course, she hadn't and beside her friend he remained. He turned to speak to the blonde, though his eyes stayed glued to the brunette.

"See Serena, I told you she wouldn't be happy to see me," he joked, followed by a laugh Blair knew all too well. She felt herself triggered by it. So familiar, yet so far gone for what felt like so long. She finally managed to peel her eyes from his, and look to her friend.

"What are you doing? Why would you bring him here?" she asked in hushed tones, though she was certain he could hear her. Serena frowned in confusion, shaking her head.

"I didn't. He came to court on his own. And he said he wanted to see you while he was here. Why shouldn't he? Are we not all old friends?" Serena asked, motioning back to him. Tom took this opportunity to reinsert himself into the conversation.

"Yes, friends. And how nice it has been for me to arrive at court and find one of my dearests of them here already, and among such elevated company," Tom remarked, and he spoke with underlying meaning as always. Blair watched in horror as his eyes flickered from hers to the throne section of the room, and back. Then he raised his eyebrow at her, as if to silently ask for confirmation from her own lips. She couldn't look at the thrones though, and could only hope Chuck was not currently sitting over there. She wished more than anything for once he was far too caught up in gambling and drinking to have noticed any of this.

"Lady Blair," Tom furthered, lowering himself to bow for her. She narrowed her eyes at him, not missing how he laughed as he rose back up again.

"That is the correct way to approach you here, yes? I'd say some things have definitely changed since you were back in France," he commented, and she could tell he was teasing her.

How could he think to do such a thing here, now?

She moved closer, speaking to him in an angry whisper.

"I think a lot has changed since France," Blair clarified, her tone indicating how heightened and out of sorts it was making her. She wanted to grab onto him and shake him, but knew better than to do so. Even if Chuck had not seen them, someone would surely tell him of her assaulting another man in public. Tom turned his cheek, whispering in her ear.

"Not everything. You smell pretty similar, still very sweet. And you look ravishing, as I knew you would in that dress," he remarked, and she instinctively stepped back as she realized how close she'd gotten to him. He didn't seem to mind the close proximity they'd shared, but only expressed visible disappointment when she pulled away.

"Stop it," she both demanded and pleaded, though it came through gritted teeth. She refused to address the gown now, or even ask how he'd managed any of the details surrounding it. There were far too many prying eyes around them.

"Oh well, this wasn't what I thought would happen," Serena interjected, and it took all Blair had not to roll her eyes at her.

What had she possibly expected? What did she think could come from this? Certainly nothing good.

"You need to leave," Blair told him, and she hoped he knew she meant in regards to more than just this current event. He needed to leave court, preferably England entirely.

"Dance with me and I'll consider it," Tom responded, giving her a Cheshire like grin. He reached his hand out for her own, but retracted it just in time to instead motion to the dancefloor not far from them.

"I will do no such thing," Blair denied. Never before had she wanted to shout at anyone more. Even when she'd found out he'd gone and gotten married. Even then she had not felt like she did presently, like she wanted to kick and scream till he got the message.

"Won't or can't?" Tom returned, clear accusation in his voice that it was the latter. Blair felt her body tighten further at this.

What did it matter?

Though of course it was the former. Yes, Tom was an excellent dancer, probably the best here other than her. Not that Chuck couldn't rival him on a good day, but it was obvious today had not been one of those. He'd had a time of it on the way back from their walk in the garden's maze earlier that day. For the most part he'd enjoyed himself, but towards the end she could tell he'd gotten irritated and tired. It wasn't hard to tell when one of his injuries were bothering him, as he couldn't seem to help, but grab or rub at the area, as if he could manage to wear away the pain or injury itself. She imagined how his face looked when it'd drained him of all energy at the end of a bad day, but then she blinked and recalled this was not the face before her. But it could be, were she not careful. She must move the conversation along.

"Why are you here? I know it's not for me," Blair said, ignoring his former question entirely. It would be more preferable to have such a conversation in private, but that could cause more issues than it would help. She could never be alone with Tom again, to do so would be dangerous for both of them. And that would be the case even if she felt nothing towards him, which did she? She thought she'd forgotten him, definitely gotten over him, and yet him being here seemed to stir something in her she thought long gone. And it scared her. There was no place for it now.

"I met the prince last night. Imagine my surprise when my first night back at court, someone such as myself, so clearly lacking in rank, is to be honored by such a visit? Couldn't figure what his interest in me would be, though I believe I'm beginning to piece it together now," he explained, and his eyes glanced across the room once more.

Blair felt dread down to the pit of her stomach when she realized this confirmed he was indeed looking at something, or someone. Not only that, but he had said he'd met Chuck. That couldn't be coincidence, which meant his being here wasn't one either. Someone had orchestrated all of this, but why would the prince be the one to do it? Why would he bring him here?

Tom was from her past, and she had told him that. Why had he not believed her? Did he not trust her? She could have allowed her thoughts to consume her, but she had to be more of her wits than that. She needed to speak, move this interaction to its end.

"Tom, please—" she began, but when he looked back at her she silenced once more. His green eyes bared into her own. She'd definitely not forgotten them. They were such a unique color, almost teal at times.

"Yes, Lady Blair? Would you like to ask something of me? Why not do it? Let us see if I shall still be so compelled, and easily at your whim?" Tom said, and though he still smiled at her, she could tell the intent behind it had changed now. Only it wasn't meant to taunt her, but rather mask how he felt. It was a habit of his, smiling when he was upset.

"Just go back to France," she relented, and she could instantly see her words had wounded him. Though he recovered quickly, laughing sort of breathlessly.

"You know, I could make the same suggestion to you," Tom said. "From what I hear it might be best for you—"

"Giving the lady advice on what's best for her? As in this lady, here? Odd. I didn't think she took advice from anyone. Much less someone of such station… or rather, lack thereof," a voice intercepted. She knew whom it belonged to both by the sound of it, and how it interrupted so naturally, as if learned from a lifetime of doing so without any consequence. Her stomach dropped as if someone had kicked it. It was the last person she'd wished to see their conversing; much less be present for it. She could feel Tom and Serena look past her now, but her body had gone too rigid to turn to face them.

That and she didn't want to.

"Prince Charles, we meet again, and so soon. I should be so honored," Tom remarked, greeting by extending himself down into a bow. It was much less playful than the one he'd done for Blair, yet also not as serious as it should have been. She was certain Chuck would make note of it, as he never missed anything. She hoped he wouldn't take this personally however, even if this had been the actual intentions behind it. For it was also true that Tom had never been one to think much of court practices to begin with. Anyone who'd known him growing up, knew he loathed all kinds of formality. Whereas although the prince too had his own way of bucking back at the system, there was also the ironic and impactful fact that he'd been raised by it. She imagined it was hard to see the fault in something that had both been ingrained in him, and would benefit him so greatly.

Her thoughts ceased to an immediate halt when on the ground she saw familiar feet move to stand beside her. She could feel him now, heat radiating off his body as it did this time of night, in such a crowd, and fueled by so much wine.

Speaking of which, she hoped he wasn't too drunk, or did she? Which would be better?

She wasn't certain. What she did know was that she needed to acknowledge his presence before he pointed out she hadn't. Regretfully she raised her eyes up his body, purposefully peering up at him through thick lashes as if they could somehow help hide how she must look. Only to her relief he wasn't looking at her, though she was sure he knew she'd observed at him. Instead, he stared straight on to where Tom and Serena stood, but he clearly was not focused on the latter. It felt as if time was passing very slowly in the silence between their words, and yet the dialogue carried on again in an instance.

"Yes, you should be, though the timeframe not of my choosing. But alas here we are," Chuck returned cooly, and a smirk tugged at the edges of his lips, but it wasn't the good kind. And then without warning, he turned and stared straight at her. Time slowed again. When their eyes locked, she realized that despite his confident and oddly calm demeanor this was mostly a ruse. Their eyes always told one another the truth, even when their lips concealed it. There wasn't a total absence of light in his yet, but the darkness was encroaching. He was headed towards the kind of anger that only things like deceit, betrayal, and …jealousy could lead him to. The way he looked on her now was as if he'd turned and found her standing there with a knife pointed at his back. Only there was no weapons of any kind in her hands. None in the mix at all unless you counted the daggers, he was throwing with his glances at her. She parted her lips to say something, though she wasn't sure what, but time sped up again. And Chuck quicker to catch up to it, revealed he would not have it as he spoke up again instead.

"Why are you here? You were supposed to be over at the thrones, at half past twelve. I'm certain I told you this, and not that long ago; when you asked when I'd be done at the tables. So, what made you forget?" Chuck queried, and though his voice had not raised at all he'd still managed to make it sound very accusatory.

Blair knew these questions were directed at her personally and he expected answers, but she could not find them to give. What he said was correct. She had asked him when he'd be done, and they'd agreed on that very time and place to meet. But she had become distracted since then, and she had forgotten to meet him. Only the way he spoke to her now, one would think he meant to imply she'd forgotten his existence entirely.

"Blair?" Chuck asked again, though his tone and volume had slightly heightened. Sort of how someone would snap at someone after asking them the same question over and over again, only to be ignored. But he hadn't asked her the same question multiple times, just multiple questions at once. And she needed more time to answer. Her face felt like it was burning beneath her skin, and she touched a hand to it. As she did so, she realized Chuck had called her Blair, just Blair, in front of Tom. Her eyes flickered to him before she had the sense to stop herself. It was enough time to gauge his reaction of it. Tom had definitely noted it unusual that someone so high of rank, like the prince, would be addressing her so informally, and with such ease in public no less. When she looked back at Chuck, she knew by the look on his face that no matter how quickly her glance to Tom had been he had seen it. She felt a sense of panic soaring up through her body, and for a moment considered trying to fake a faint. Chuck wouldn't buy this though, and it would only make things worse. He could tell when she was acting. Her nerves were also so on edge she doubted she'd pull off anything even close to predictable. The longer the moment went on without her speaking the more Chuck's eyes seemed to widen at her. But she could not find it in her to respond. She opened her mouth again, but no words followed.

"She must have lost track of time. You know what they say about it, when you're having fun?" Tom interjected cheekily. She couldn't help herself; her eyes found his again. He spared her a small smile, as if to indicate he'd done this to help her. But Chuck who was fortunately now staring back at Tom and not her, was unfortunately also looking very unamused.

"Fun? Where? Forgive me, but I cannot seem to find it here," he challenged. His voice now matched his body in tenseness.

"No, well uh you wouldn't, would you?" Tom returned easily. Blair could see his grin had grown twice in size. He looked as if held the punchline to some joke none of them had yet caught onto.

Chuck ignored him, but Blair knew he had heard it. Instead, he turned back to look at her, his eyes raking over her carefully.

"Were you having fun, Blair?" he asked, and she knew this was a test. It didn't matter if she had been having fun, or if she hadn't, there was only one correct answer here.

She shook her head dutifully, but her eyes sunk to the floor in shame. She'd done this in front of Serena, and Tom. She could only imagine what Tom must be thinking now. In all their time together, he would have never known her to be submissive. And she had a suspicion he wouldn't approve of it.

"Perhaps she'd have more fun if she were allowed to dance," Tom suggested as if on cue or privy to her thoughts. Blair felt her heart sink. This wasn't going to do anyone any good, most of all him or her.

"Allowed? That's an odd word to use. Or is this some kind of weird word game you'd like to play? Where we all list off other odd words aloud? I'll go next, how about strangle? Or murder?" Chuck shot back. Blair's eyes widened at what she hoped was only a very dark attempt at humor, but figured it more likely to be an underlying threat. Even a dull man like Nate could have picked up on it, and Tom being sharp definitely wouldn't miss it. She looked up to try and steal another glance at the ever-growing edgy situation. Thankfully she was able to prevent her eyes from returning to Tom's, and instead they landed back on Chuck, who still glared at the man across from him. If looks could kill, Tom would be long gone now. But luckily for him, they couldn't.

But certain words from the prince's mouth could… a voice echoed in her head.

"Forgive me, your highness. It seemed to be the only appropriate word to describe Blair turning down an opportunity for the dance floor. If you could have seen how she danced in France…well, what other odd words would one use to describe it? Natural? Breathtaking? Stunning?" Tom challenged, never able to help himself when presented with a game of words.

"I did see it," Chuck snapped, "I met her in France. Though I think you would find she dances just as well here as she did there. Perhaps even better." She got an inkling he was no longer referring exclusively to her dancing. Everything Tom had said so far had only angered him further, but it had not yet stunted him. Blair supposed there were some things the prince fancied himself for, and a challenge was among them. And while she didn't doubt his ability or his wit, she was less assured about his short temper given the circumstance.

"Are you suggesting she show me then? Blair, if his highness insists." Tom had used this unfortunate phrasing of Chuck's words against him instantly. He smiled like a cat who'd eaten a canary as he took a step towards Blair, but he didn't get far.

Chuck's eyes widened bigger than Blair had ever seen them before, and she saw not darkness in them, but fire. He moved in front of her, towards Tom hostilely, seeming to grow in size as he did so.

"Who the fuck do you think you are speaking to?" he seethed, and she wasn't sure if he meant in regards to Blair or himself. A look of realization came on Tom's face, but his expression only went from amused to… wait, was it anger? She didn't get the chance to study it long enough to fully assess.

"How about a dance?" Nate intercepted, appearing suddenly and stepping in between the two men before they could physically connect. Blair was confused by this interruption at first, not sure if he'd been standing there the whole time or just now walked up in time to help. For once though, she was admittedly relieved to see him.

Nate had his back turned to Tom, and was making direct eye contact with Chuck as he wove his hand around his back and patted it. This wasn't done at all aggressively, but in their usual brotherly type of way. The prince didn't seem to appreciate it in the current moment however, and only glared back at his friend now instead of Tom.

"Are you asking me to dance, Nathaniel? Because I'd have to refuse. You're not very good," he bit, definitely throwing some misdirected anger at Nate. Blair thought it better focused on him than Tom though. Nate was clearly better at diffusing it, where as she had begun to suspect Tom had been provoking it.

Nate swallowed the insult, not indicating it had hurt his feelings in the slightest.

"Of course, your highness. You should dance with Lady Blair," Nate suggested. Though he kept his body physically between Tom and Chuck, he gestured towards Serena.

"Serena, how about it?" he asked, inviting her to the dance floor. Her friend didn't respond right away, but instead looked from Nate, to Chuck, and finally to Blair. Blair could tell she was nervous about these arrangements, like the severity of the situation had finally dawned on her. She watched as Serena changed expressions entirely, tossing her long golden hair over her shoulder, and laughing very loudly.

"Why thank you, Duke Archibald! But I'm afraid the prince is right about your dancing capabilities, and besides I already have a partner for tonight. Tom, shall we?" she asked, stepping over near him and holding out her hand. Blair knew this was because she didn't want to leave Tom alone. It was actually smart of Serena, so much so it kind of took Blair by surprise.

But now as she considered the chain of events once more, Nate showing up out of nowhere to seemingly smooth things over? Sounded like a possible set up. Perhaps he'd shown up with less than honest intentions. Something like get the girls distracted by dancing and have Tom dragged off. It was definitely something neither Nate or Chuck would be above doing.

Tom looked from Serena to Blair, and let his eyes linger on her longer than he should have. He acted for a moment as if he would not comply, but then nodded to Serena with a smile.

"Of course, it would be my honor." He took her hand, but looked back at Blair, Chuck, and Nate one more time. He bowed his head.

"Your highness, Lady Blair… whoever you are," he muttered, speaking lastly to Nate who glared back as if insulted he had not asked or remembered when Serena had said it earlier.

Serena waited not a second longer to pull Tom off back towards the dance floor. Blair looked after them, her heart still somewhat aching for it despite everything else going on around her. But it didn't take long for her to feel something of a more pressing nature. Upon turning her head back in Chuck's direction, their eyes met, and she was once more facing the reality of it all. He looked very unhappy with her, and that was an understatement if she were being honest. She remained still, not daring to look away or be so brash as to make the first move. He seemed intent to stand there and stew on it all for a moment, proceeding to ignore anything and everything Nate tried to say next. Then he moved towards her quickly, grabbed hold of her hand, and pressed his body up against hers.

"Let us dance then," he spat, and she could hear the darkness in his voice. He didn't wait for her to catch up mentally, but began to pull her quite aggressively towards the dancefloor.

She looked ahead to see Serena and Tom dancing, and people already pointing at and admiring them. She told herself she wasn't jealous about any of it, other than Serena always getting attention so easily. After all, Tom was a far better dancer than her best friend. If anything, he was making her look good tonight. As they neared the edge of the dance floor, she saw Tom twirl Serena around once more. Then as if he felt her eyes on him, his looked up and they exchanged a glance. Blair turned her head immediately, looking beside her to Chuck instead. He was staring her down, not needing to look forward as people naturally parted or moved out of the way for him. She looked around and saw more than Serena and Tom watching them, basically anyone within viewing distance was. It was likely because they tended to make a spectacle when they danced with one another, and hadn't done so often or to such an extent since Chuck's accident.

"Do you feel alright enough to dance?" Blair whispered, leaning in closer so no one else, but him could hear here. She didn't want to insult him, but only voice concern. His eyes flickered from hers to where Serena and Tom continued to dance, and back again. His hand holding hers outstretched forward as they reached the middle of the dance floor, and she turned round to face him. The music slowed to a significant pause, as if the musicians were also aware the prince had arrived. Chuck raised a hand to signal them, though his eyes remained with Blair the entire time. He still hadn't answered her, but instead continued to stare at her with great intensity. She'd hoped for a smirk, or even smile, but he provided neither.

As the familiar tune of a volta began to play, Blair took her cue. She kept her gaze with his, cocking her head some, and smiling as she began a slow, seductress type strut around him. She felt eyes from all around on them, likely Serena and Tom's among them, but she did not dare look away from Chuck. As she walked around him, she transitioned flawlessly into a twirl. Once she'd finished with it, they stood face to face again. Chuck stretched forward into a dramatic bow towards her, and she returned it with a stylish curtesy as he rose to his feet.

Their eyes met again.

She reached out her hand to his, and he took it, his fingers wrapping around hers tightly for a moment before he released them. She widened her eyes at him, flashing an innocent looking smile, and then began to twirl around him as she had before. She felt his eyes follow her closely, and when they connected again his stare had somehow deepened. Blair reached her hands out for him, and he stalked towards her. She quickened her pace as she advanced on him, and they collided together, her hands grazing over his face, and his around her neck. Their bodies swayed back and forth, stepping in unison; their faces mere inches from one another. Her breath hung in her throat, and she had the strange sensation of both wishing he would and wouldn't kiss her. Her body wanted it, but her mind fought to remember they were in public. She slid her hands up his body and positioned them on his shoulders as his hands clenched around her waist.

"You don't have to lift me if you're hurting—" Blair began breathlessly, but she silenced as she felt him raise her upwards. She gasped, some surprised, as he definitely hadn't done this particular move since before his injuries. She searched his face for some kind of pained expression, but there wasn't one to be found. Just the same focused, almost crazed looking sort of stare. As her feet hit the ground again, she grabbed onto his hand, and they both spun round. Then without warning he yanked her inward, her body twirling into his. He pulled her back up against his front, and she felt his hot breath on her neck, as his hands traveled from her chest down to her waist. She gasped again at the feeling of him groping at her, knowing this would not be missed by anyone within view.

"Chuck," she rasped. His hands tightened around her waist again and before she knew it, he had lifted her once more, only this time horizontally. Her hand wrapped over his shoulder as he spun them both round, and round. She looked out into the crowd, them appearing as nothing, but blurred faces. The only thing that felt real at all, was them. He lowered her with more ease and care than she expected. She giggled a little as she got to her feet, always one to appreciate a flawlessly executed dance move.

He seemed to enjoy this, as she saw him alas crack something like a smirk. She twirled away from him, spinning round to face him again. Then she ran towards him, their bodies crashing into each other once more. This time she bounced off of him, using his shoulders to push her body upwards. He responded by catching her by her thighs, and positioning her to rest on his waist. They began to spin around again, though slower this time. Blair slowly eased back, closing her eyes for a moment as she felt the her curls blowing wild round her face, before she leaned back into him. She could hear the music coming to an end, and she wished she could somehow force it to keep going. It had been so long since they'd danced like this, and he'd touched her like this, moved with her as one. Her whole body felt as if it was vibrating as he lowered her to the floor again, their eyes still locked with one another.

"Perhaps you'll remember this before you forget me next time," he said in a low voice, leaning into her as the song ended. Applause sounded off around them almost instantly, but Blair felt herself frozen. She couldn't look at anyone, but him. She grasped onto the material of his shirt, unable to yet let go of him.

"I—I just lost track of time," she said when her she'd found her voice alas. His brow quirked at her, and his lips pursed in a way that signified her answer didn't please him. He shook his head.

"You never have before. I suppose later I shall have to come up with other means of reiterating the importance of not resorting to tardiness when I'm expecting you," he embellished, and the way his eyes darkened at this notion she had an idea of how he'd do so.

"It won't happen again," she promised, trying to spare a reassuring smile. He did not return it. Instead, he stared back at her with the expression he'd worn for most of the dance.

"That was some dance, B!" Serena's voice exclaimed beside her. Blair felt her heart sink.

Why on earth had she returned? Blair could only hope she'd left Tom elsewhere. She watched as Chuck turned in the direction Serena's voice had come from, and she could gather from the look he gave that her friend had not had the sense to do so. Slowly, Blair pulled her eyes and body from Chuck and turned around to greet them. Serena smiled at her approvingly, though slightly scandalized. Tom was sulking beside her, his eyes burning into the side of Blair's face. She refused to meet his glance, and instead looked to Serena.

"Thank you," she managed, unsure of what else to say or do. She turned back at Chuck and could see he was now glaring past Serena, fixated on Tom.

"I see Blair taught you how to dance," Tom said suddenly. Blair wished she could kick him, but she stayed glued to Chuck's side instead. She felt the prince stiffen at these words, his entire body tensing up in mere seconds. Blair grabbed hold of Chuck's arm, as if instinctively, and finally met Tom's gaze, though only to glare at him. She parted her lips to say something, but the prince beat her to it.

"Is that what that looked like? Blair leading me?" Chuck challenged, sounding almost amused now. His ability to recover in conversation still impressed her. She smiled slightly at him.

"I think we all know it takes a proper male lead for a dance like that," she interjected. Chuck turned to look at her as soon as she said it and though he didn't smile she couldn't help, but feel he approved.

"Yes, let's be honest, Tom. Blair dances beautifully, that is without question. But it takes a strong hand to spin her around so much. Very well done, your highness. Were she not my best friend I would insist you dance with me next," Serena flattered.

It took all Blair had to not glower at her in response, as she felt instantly jealous about this. She knew Serena was only doing this to lighten the mood, to help her, but that didn't make the idea of her and Chuck dancing with one another any easier to swallow. Blair had lost a lot of men's attention to Serena, but the prince would not be one of them.

"In fact, you both must be parched, if not starving as well," Serena carried on in oblivion.

"I'm not hungry," Blair returned impulsively. She kicked herself inwardly as soon as she'd done so however. The last thing she needed was an argument with Chuck about her not taking care of herself, all other things considered.

"Well, some things never change," Tom sighed. Serena elbowed him in response, but he seemed unaffected by this. From the corner of her eye Blair watched as Chuck looked from Tom, to her. Then she felt his hand slide across her back.

"I—I think I shall return to the tables to play some more," Blair spoke up, speaking the idea as it came to her. It would be a good opportunity for her and Chuck to get away from Serena, and more importantly Tom.

"You're gambling now?" Tom asked astonished, still staring at her as if they were the only two people there. She knew this was something Chuck would notice as well.

"When she's with me," he clarified as if on cue, and Blair felt his hand grip along her backside.

"Well, this is something I must see! Are you any good, B?" Serena exclaimed, reaching out a hand to grab onto Blair's. She hadn't seemed to notice the prince's hold on her friend.

"She performed with more skill than I expected for her first time," Chuck replied for her, a smirk playing on his lips. Blair had not missed how he'd specifically chosen his words, and by the look on Tom's face, she was certain he'd caught onto this implication as well. He took a step towards them, frowning, as if he intended to respond.

"What about you, Tom? Are you any good? Well, I take it Blair wouldn't know. Seeing as she's never been with you before, gambling, I mean," Chuck taunted. There was a full-on sneer planted across his lips now, and a sort of crazed look in his dark eyes. He was purposefully toying with the other man.

Tom scowled back at him, looking more disturbed than Blair had ever seen him before. Then he crossed his arms, and turned his head to glimpse at Blair, before back at the prince.

"One can learn to gamble with more than just coin, your highness," he returned, his words very pointed as well.

"How about a game of cards then? The buy in is steep, but I could always loan it to you were you without coin. Though from what I hear, that is not the case. My secretary tells me you are sitting comfortably. Or you are presumed to be, seeing as you refused my former offer so willingly. Must be that, or either you have something against money," Chuck revealed.

"Your offer?" Blair asked, speaking it aloud just as the thought had registered within her. If Chuck heard her, he made no move to signify this.

"Only when it comes with strings, your highness. But while I thank you for both your offers, I won't be needing your assistance. I can buy in on my own, thanks," Tom retorted.

"So, you'll play then?" Chuck asked, grinning menacingly now. Blair did not like the looks of it. She could only hope Tom would refuse, but she thought it unlikely.

"Against you? Of course. It would be my honor," Tom replied just as she'd expected, bowing his head though almost mockingly. If the prince noticed, he made no move to indicate as such.

"Yes well, I think you'll find that won't do you much of any good when it comes to this game," the prince chuckled, nodding his head. There was a perverted sort of twinkle in his eye as he sized the poet up. Blair felt her stomach twist and turn, knowing it was very unlikely any good would come from this. But as the two men turned to stalk back up towards the gambling tables, and her own feet moved to follow, she realized it was happening regardless of how she felt about it. There would be no turning back now, for any of them.

XOXOXOXOXO

A/N: So, what do you all think of the story? I'd love to hear any thoughts you have on particular plotlines or characters. If you're signed in, I also love questions! I don't mind answering, as long as it won't spoil you too much… I just hope for those of you still reading you're enjoying.

Also, to the guest reviewer who didn't seem to like the story or this portrayal of Chuck… while I do apologize, this may also just not be the story for you. And that's okay. I'm sure there's plenty more to choose from, but I appreciate you trying it out. It's totally okay if the story or versions of these characters aren't your cup of tea though!