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.

31. Queen of Hearts

The Royal Affair

Chapter Thirty-One:

QUEEN OF HEARTS

The grand hall of the palace pulsed with lingering energy of its earlier festivities. Only now the majority of anyone left had seemed to all gather to the part of the room that had been transformed into a gambling haven. Throughout the night courtiers and nobles had engaged with one another through various games of chance, but now the attention of all fell upon the final match of the evening. And though there would likely be several players to buy into this particular game, there were really only two to truly face off against one another; and there'd be only one winner for certain. The prince had taken his seat, first choice of course, and had an apparent air of confidence about him. Several of his friends, and fans, had gathered round the card table; their laughter and banter loud enough to fill the room. But across the table, not too far from it, stood Wyatt. He both looked and likely felt out of place, which only meant Chuck's deliberate attempt to make him feel as such had worked. As the prince stared down the other man, he could see an uneasiness in his composure. He seemed to be counting the chips' worth that were being laid out onto the table, and that appeared to only further fault his confidence.

Chuck leaned back in his chair, smirking. He was fairly certain now Wyatt needed patronage more than he led on, or would without a doubt after he lost tonight. He had already spotted his royal secretary, Humphrey, hanging around the tables awkwardly when they'd walked back over to them. It was a rare sight to see him out so late, and among such kind of company; but apparently for work he was willing to go where he otherwise would not. Still, he was currently keeping his distance. He had not approached Wyatt or the prince, but Chuck thought this was actually wise. It wasn't the right time yet.

"Your highness, let me buy into this game. I want a front row seat to this," William called over to him from a few chairs down. Chuck had seen Nate conversing with him shortly before, looking much amused, and pointing animatedly from Wyatt to the prince as he did so. He was quite certain their friend, William, had received a dramatic, drunken retelling of the night's events so far. And apparently what he had heard had intrigued him enough to be willing to pay the insanely steep buy in, Chuck had purposely set for the game. It was enough to scare most off, even some of the wealthier men at court. So far only Nathaniel had bought in, though Chuck intended to sort any debt he acquired from it as a favor. There were a few other contenders considering, but he'd noticed one of them had just chased off after whom was likely his angry looking wife. Whoever that man had been, he was out as well. They could use another player. He nodded at William, flashing him a grin.

"Of course. You needn't ask. It gladdens me to see you here, William. But where have you been?" Chuck asked, it occurring to him he hadn't seen his friend in about a week's time. However, this was not entirely uncommon. William had a wife and an estate, though he never seemed interested in staying with either for very long. He'd gotten married young, and it'd basically been arranged by their families. From what Chuck knew he was a kind husband, but him and his wife didn't seem like they were very affectionate with one another. They'd been married for years after all and didn't have any children. And his wife never came to visit him at court, even when he was there for months at a time. They seemed to live separate lives, but as if it was some kind of chosen truce or agreement. Chuck had thought at one point perhaps he'd prefer a wife who didn't care what he did, and stayed away at some private castle. Now, he wasn't so certain anymore.

"I had to go home for a little while," William answered with a shrug of his shoulders. He then raised his cup and looked to the person beside Chuck.

"Lady Blair," he greeted, and the smile he gave her was genuine. He'd always seemed to like Blair more than Nate, though not in any way Chuck found threatening or inappropriate.

Chuck turned to look at Blair who hadn't said anything in return and realized it was because she wasn't paying attention. He followed her gaze, across the room, and found it ended in the last place he'd have wanted it to. He reached out and grabbed hold of her arm, and her head snapped back in his direction. There was a lot he would have said, had they not been at a table full of people. But since they were, he settled for more appropriate words.

"William was saying hello to you," he informed her tensely. Her eyes flickered from his, to William's, and she flushed.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Hello, William," she apologized.

"It's fine," William dismissed instantly, looking as if he felt bad for playing any part in the now apparent issue. He nodded to Chuck.

"Really, your highness. It's loud in here. And there's a lot going on," he offered. It didn't make Chuck feel any better though. It being noisy didn't have anything to do with why Blair had to keep stealing glances at Wyatt. It had happened enough times now Chuck had to stop himself from counting, afraid of what he would have done had he kept a tally.

"Well, I'll tell you one thing that will go on is that fucking prick finally learning my name, when he pays me tonight, after he loses in this game," Nate exclaimed in irritation, sitting down in between Chuck and William. He reached out, grabbing hold of an empty cup and pitcher, and poured himself some wine.

"He will lose, but not to you," Chuck corrected, unable to help himself. He felt Blair's eyes on him, and he looked at her. Then he peered past her, over to where Wyatt still stood, though no longer alone. Serena was beside him now, clearly trying to make him feel better about the current circumstances. Chuck also noticed Dan Humphrey had begun to drift closer as well. When he looked back to Blair, he knew she'd been watching his gaze this time, and where it had gone. She crossed her arms, shifting in her seat uncomfortably.

"Well Nathaniel, I think we now know what's kept Serena busy these past couple of days," Chuck insinuated with a smirk, nodding from his friend over to where Tom and Serena stood. He had wanted to point out this possibility to his friend, but that hadn't been his true reasoning for doing so. He already knew it would bother Nate, but as for if such an implication would upset Blair? He turned slowly to see and felt something tighten in his chest. She was looking at Serena and Tom intently, as if she was watching for signs of such accusation. He could not help himself in what he did next. He leaned forward; grabbed hold of her leg under the table, and gave it a squeeze as he spoke into her ear.

"If I were you, I'd direct your attention where it matters," he advised curtly. He picked up his cup, and took a drink of wine as he watched her turn her cheek inward to look at him. It made him feel slightly better to have her attention back, but he preferred not to have to demand it.

"I'm tired," she said suddenly. He narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head. He knew what she was trying to do. But she would not be getting out of this so easily.

"Then you can go to bed after this game. I want you here to watch," he clarified, taking another drink of wine, but not breaking eye contact once to do so. His other hand remained clenched around her thigh. He knew he'd need to let go to play cards, but the game hadn't started yet.

"Well, this is rather extensive. Looks to be about half the royal treasury. I jest of course," a voice interrupted, and it caused Chuck to grip onto Blair's leg further. Slowly, he turned his head to see Wyatt had approached and with a regained self-confidence Chuck could not stand.

"It would seem you're not quite accustomed to the intricacies of our noble court games, Tom. Perhaps you need consider if you really have the means to continue," Chuck returned, his own voice venomous. The crowd around them had quieted now, most of them watching and listening without an ounce of shame about it.

"Oh, not to worry, I have the means to buy in. It is only my judgement I shall question in the morning when it is not so clouded by wine," Tom dismissed, pulling out a chair across from the prince and sitting down in it. His eyes then flickered away for a moment and Chuck knew he'd looked at Blair; the way his lips tugged up into an even bigger grin had all but confirmed it. And though the poet couldn't see it, or anyone else for that matter, he wrapped his hand all the way around Blair's thigh. If he could, he would have pulled her into his lap. He shook his head at Wyatt.

"And your purse not so burdened by the weight of coin, I suspect," Chuck retaliated, trying his best to not make it evident the other man had stirred such jealousy in him.

Tom chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, and playing with some of the chips being set out before him.

"Perhaps. But then again, I find most coin comes with strings attached. And you see, I would prefer my purse to be light and free, rather than burdened with entanglements," he mused, seeming to savor the last word on his tongue longer than the rest. He picked up a chip and flipped it between his fingertips, before giving Chuck another grin. The prince wished he could somehow remove it from his face, he supposed there were ways he could. He tried not to smirk too menacingly at the thought.

"Are you going to play, since you're a world-renowned gambler now?" Tom teased, and Chuck knew before he could even make out his gaze had shifted that he was no longer speaking to him. It really bothered him that this man felt he could speak so freely to Blair, look at her so flirtatiously. The prince had gotten used to everyone knowing not to act as such, bend immediately to his will about her.

"Lady Blair gambled this evening? I thought you couldn't stand the games?" William interjected. Chuck had to wonder if he did so purposefully in attempts so smooth things over, or to save Blair from having to decide whether or not she should answer Tom. Now she could answer William instead. But was William that much of an ally to Blair, or just that much for the sake of everyone's overall peace?

"The prince taught me to play earlier this evening. I must admit I liked it much more than I thought I would," Blair answered, nodding her head. She seemed to acknowledge William's helping her out as she smiled at him as well. It didn't bother Chuck as much as her even looking in Wyatt's direction did. Perhaps William joining in the game would benefit him more than he thought, at least in regards to keeping him calm about Blair and Wyatt being so close.

"Well, you've always been good at whatever you applied yourself to. Back home you never failed to get what you wanted, especially not if given time to put your mind to it," Tom spoke up again, and his words seemed purposeful. Chuck was irritated they had worked their intended affect. Because he was now wondering what all, and who all, Blair had wanted and learned to get.

"You knew Lady Blair back in France then?" William followed, looking to Tom this time. Chuck watched, deciding he would remain quiet and see where his friend intended to take this. It was an odd question, and one the prince was certain William already knew the answer to. He'd seen him chatting with Nate earlier after all, and the details had been why he'd implied he'd chosen to join the game.

"Yes, you could say that," Tom answered, flashing Blair another smile. Chuck felt her turn away this time, and he couldn't help, but beam ever so slightly in return. He reached his hand down that still held her thigh, and began to stroke it gently with his fingertips. She acknowledged and reacted to this by shifting in her seat, but only so that her body moved closer to his. He felt himself physically calm some at the gesture, enough to return to the present conversation.

"His family home was near the Van Der Woodsen's estate; you know Serena, William?" Blair suggested suddenly, and it was the first time since they'd sat, she'd made the first move in regards to speech. Her eyes glanced around the room, and he guessed she was wondering where her friend in question had gone to.

"Ah yes, I would take it that means you know Eric as well?" William assumed, and he smiled so much at the suggestion that Chuck saw both dimples visible on his cheeks.

"Eric, Serena's little brother? Yes, I'm familiar. Nice little chap. I wasn't aware he was back in town though," Tom said, and Chuck noted it was the first time he spoke in a way that did not seem so intentional, but just natural. He would have to make note of the fact that William was good in bringing that out in people; it could be of use later.

"Uh yes, he drifts in and out, much like myself," William noted nonchalantly, clearing his throat as he did so. Chuck felt Blair sit up and lean forward some beside him. He turned to see this particular conversation had piqued her interest. He could not recall Serena's brother to memory, but he remembered some of their conversations about him. The only detail he could recollect presently was that he was younger than his sister by a few years.

"Well, I hope Eric does whatever makes him happy. He's a nice kid," Tom spoke up, and the prince noted a sense of pointedness both in his tone and the look he gave. Chuck felt Blair shift again and turned to see she was smiling softly at this. He felt a painful tug in his chest, and he didn't care if it ultimately only came from her caring about Serena's brother. Because now it was, he who felt out of the loop, and she on the inside with Wyatt.

"Well, I know what would make me happy, and that would be playing some poker," Nate sounded unexpectedly, sighing with apparent aggravation. Chuck's eyes flickered to him, and though he could tell his friend had done so entirely for his own reasons, he was pleased he'd directed them back to the proper course of action, the planned one.

"Nathaniel's right. We should get on with the game. Some of us should have been in bed by now," Chuck asserted, making eye contact with Blair as he said it. He had to refrain from commenting to her that she didn't look so tired now that Wyatt had joined them. He was trying his best to keep his bitter thoughts at bay.

"Do you have a bedtime now?" Tom scoffed, laughing some as he also looked at her. The rest of the table silenced, if any had been speaking at all. Blair didn't say anything, but stared back at him blankly. Chuck turned towards him, leaning forward across the table in a way that also put him in way of Wyatt's view of her.

"And if she does? Though her wellbeing's not really your concern, is it? In fact, if I were you, I'd be much more inclined to pay attention to your cards rather than Lady Blair. For you see she's not in this game, and it's not her you'll be playing with. But me, you'll be playing against. So, shall we?" Chuck asked, though anyone who'd heard knew it neither sounded nor really was a question. The prince had served words with a sense of finality that only royalty could. And Tom, while clearly not pleased about it, was by no means someone who could refuse or object to any of it, especially not publicly.

"Yes, we shall, your highness. Is money all we are to bet then, just to clarify before we start?" Tom asked, and there was a sudden wickedness about his grin. Chuck realized this was his last-ditch attempt effort at rebellion. He was trying to set the prince up to succumb to a trap, as if Chuck would be daft enough to fall into any someone like Wyatt would come up with. He knew where this was headed. He meant to wager Blair, or something about her, perhaps a dance, as he'd suggested earlier. But he was an idiot to think the prince would even allow him to suggest it.

"Aye, only money," Chuck answered, and though his infamous smirk remained on his lips, he knew Wyatt wouldn't miss how his eyes now glared in his direction. He had a feeling someone else hadn't either, as he could feel Blair watching him closely. He wondered if she was paying attention enough to have caught onto the unsaid as well. She certainly seemed interested enough to suggest as such.

"You are sure?" Wyatt tempted again, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"I just thought you a man who enjoyed higher bets, and in turn higher rewards—"

"I'm a man who only bets things he wouldn't care to lose," Chuck clarified, and he could tell this caught the poet off-guard. His confidence faltered some, and his grin fell. The prince found the sight of it more than pleasing. And then he felt something else; a hand had grabbed onto his under the table and squeezed it. He turned to look at Blair, and their eyes met. Apparently, she had gathered what Wyatt meant to wager as well, and had appreciated Chuck's denial to participate. In fact, she looked rather touched, like how she did before she usually kissed him. He wished he could kiss her now, show the man of her past what he was truly up against. Prove to him he didn't belong in her present, or stand a chance in her future.

"Very well then," Wyatt conceded. He sat back in his chair, and it was now his turn to scowl in the direction of the prince, and Blair it would seem. Chuck couldn't help, but relish in this. He felt like Blair was now back in his corner, and it was the other man who'd been pushed out. He preferred to have it stay that way, if he could help it.

The game kicked off with regular proceedings. Chuck skillfully navigated the cards he'd been dealt, and Wyatt played his hand with a mixture of caution and determination. Halfway through everyone had done decently for the most part, though Chuck could tell Nate was not pleased with how he'd faired against Tom. William remained cool and collected, even when he wasn't winning, though this was rather usual and within character for him.

"Tell me Tom, what made you decide to go into poetry?" Chuck asked after a while, eyeing his cards before looking up to do the same to his opponent.

"Well, I've always had a thing for literature and a natural ability with words," Tom began, though he seemed slightly more concerned with his cards in that moment than the prince's conversation.

"Did you just compliment yourself?" Nate interrupted, speaking with great distaste. He was clutching his cards rather tightly, and Chuck sensed his hand was not the one he'd hoped for.

"Yes, though I wasn't finished. If you'd please be quiet, I will. But as I was saying, natural talent is only part of it. One must also be inspired," Tom elaborated, smiling confidently at Nate before he stole another glance at Blair. And though Chuck had assumed as much, he still found his body wanting to have some kind of physical reaction to this implication.

"So, what inspired you?" Nate asked condescendingly, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, what was it?" Chuck reasserted and he saw Tom give him a curious look. Chuck wondered if the poet realized what he was doing. For how could he answer here, truthfully? Chuck doubted he had more than enough nerve to actually name Blair. Tom pursed his lips, and the prince could sense he was conflicted in what to say. Then his eyes found hers for a mere second, before they returned to meet and give an answer to his opponent.

"Love," Tom told him. And though he did not smile or grin, Chuck knew he was savoring in the loophole and dual insult he had found. The paranoia set in next. Had Blair somehow managed to convey this was something they did not… say? The word had not been brought up. Chuck had assumed she'd meant to avoid it as much as he, but perhaps he'd been wrong in thinking this. For the man before him now spoke of it blatantly and with clear regards to her. Did that mean he said it to her, and she him? Had Blair told Wyatt she loved him, and yet never even brought it up with Chuck? Though he knew it quite hypocritical as he hadn't either, he worried this possibility was one he would not be able to get over, were it true. She was supposed to belong to him, physically, and otherwise. Which meant her love, had she felt any, should also be his. It couldn't have been wasted on someone like Wyatt. It just couldn't have been. He furrowed his brow, glancing back at said man. He hoped none of these thoughts had been evident to him. It didn't appear they had, or at least Wyatt had been too distracted by his own to notice. For he still appeared, to be relishing in his verbal victory. A coy grin had spread out on his lips, and he was holding his cards up as if to admire them.

"Speaking of," Tom insinuated, and his eyes moved to direct attention towards them. He slowly turned each over, putting his final hand on display for the rest of the table. In doing so, Chuck understood the implication, and wondered whose side fate really intended to be on.

For Wyatt had presented the queen of hearts, a rather good hand.

Nate cursed and threw his hand down. Chuck heard William laugh, but knew it was in a way to concede, as he too tossed his own cards carelessly onto the table. There was no one left to go against the poet, but the prince.

Chuck stared at the cards, and then at Blair. She was looking anxiously from Tom's cards to himself, and then to his unrevealed hand. Under the table she touched his leg, and he knew she meant to comfort him as she likely believed he'd lost. He smirked at her, picking his own cards up from the table, and looking to Wyatt as he laid them out.

"A pair of kings. A shame your queen of hearts couldn't reign supreme this time, Tom. But alas, in a rather poetic turn of events, King beats Queen," Chuck revealed. It took all he had not to laugh in response to the sheer glee he felt. He watched as the other man leaned back in his chair, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. Then he pursed his lips and nodded.

"Well played, your highness. It would appear tonight fortune does not always favor the bold," he relinquished with a sigh.

"Doesn't it though?" Chuck disagreed, smirking back at him. Tom said nothing initially, the fight in him clearly beginning to wane. But then, possibly because it dawned on him there was one final move to try and play, he did. He looked away from Chuck, blatantly gawking instead in Blair's direction.

"Whatever you say, your highness. After all, it is your world. The rest of us merely live in it," Tom relinquished, but Chuck knew better than to receive it as a true claim of defeat. He'd spoken purposefully as always, and of course there'd been exact reasoning in his choice to stare down Blair whilst he spoke to the prince. It was because the message he wished to convey was really for her, and he wasn't trying to hide it.

Chuck rose from his seat, not allowing his smirk to falter in the slightest, as he sauntered his way over to where Tom sat. He leaned down, and spoke very quietly, but somehow also threatening in nature, into his ear.

"Correct you are, Mister Wyatt; this is indeed my world. But I am not so certain I want you living in it." He pulled back up casually, giving a sinister sort of stare, as he regained eye contact with his rival. Then the prince held out his cup to the poet and spoke soundly so that anyone nearby could hear.

"Do not forget to settle your debts before you leave tonight, or rather arrange for how you should like to work them off—" He paused and his smirk grew with self-satisfaction as his dark eyes lit up in a way they seldom did.

"Cheers, Tom!" The way he said his name was intentionally condescending. With that he took a drink of his wine and tossed the empty cup back onto the table, within close proximity to the man he now looked down upon.

"Thus, I must be going. Or rather, we must. Blair?" This had not really been an invitation, but an evident command. His face turned in her direction as if he meant to look at her, but his eyes remained locked in an intense gaze with Tom's. This was a test.

XOXOXOXOXO

Blair felt herself return to reality, or rather it crashed all around her as Chuck's voice filled her ears. It dawned on her immediately what the ramifications and implications of his actions would be. She needn't even look at Tom to know how he'd receive it, and she didn't want to. She wished she could run and hide and shield her face from everyone. But as was unfortunate for her, every other face of those present and privy to the situation were now staring at her. And she could simply not allow herself to run, not now. She knew in this moment she must either choose to drop her eyes in shame or stare right back at them with as much of a powerful stance she could muster. She chose the latter, and felt her shoulders straighten out as she stood. She looked on every face she could with a haughty sort of expression; her left eyebrow raised at them, as if they were the ones who need answer to her. She couldn't be certain it worked with everyone, but she did see a few people avert their eyes in response. As she walked towards Chuck her feet felt weighted down to the floor more than they ever had before, but she made sure to maintain a confident stride nonetheless. She stopped to stand at his side and she could see the corner of his lips tug upwards, even further than they had been already. And just as she wondered if he was done in his gloating, he continued.

"You know, tonight was fun, only it went by much too quickly. But I suppose you know what they say about time when one's having fun?" He rounded it off with a chuckle. Clearly pleased to be able to throw Tom's words from earlier back at him now. He turned to Blair, their eyes finally connecting. She felt her heart sink some as the satisfied smile seemed to slip from his lips as he did so. But still he nodded his head to imply she follow. They exited from the room together, her trying to keep pace behind him without making too much of a spectacle. Not that they were capable of avoiding that at this point, as Chuck had insured one.

Once they'd passed a threshold into a more secured corridor however, she quickened her pace to almost a jog to try and keep up with him. For as quickly as he moved and without seemingly any regard for her, she wasn't sure she was supposed still to be following. Only when they rounded another corner had she realized they were indeed headed for her apartments. She thought there would be a chance he would sleep in his chambers tonight, as she knew he was upset with her. But when they got to the entrance of her housing, she realized he very much intended to go inside with her. He stormed down her hallway into her bed chambers and she rushed in behind him. Inside they found two of her ladies, who both jumped up, looking instantly frightened by the abrupt intrusion. Blair parted her lips to dismiss them, but he beat her to it.

"Out!" he shouted.

They seemed to somehow already be exiting before he'd even began to command it. Both threw Blair nervous guises, but she spared them an encouraging smile. She listened to their footsteps as they scampered down the corridor; off to hide somewhere, for likely the rest of the night. Blair stared at his back, which looked very tense; the muscles visibly tightening beneath the fabric of his shirt. He seemed in thought as he didn't move much, other than to shift his weight from one foot to the other. As he did so though, Blair noticed the vase of flowers behind him, still up on the mantle. There was a fire going below it now, but he stood between her and it. She knew there was zero chance she would be successful were she to attempt burning Tom's letter now. At the same time knowing it was there, and Chuck standing so close to it, made it feel as if something was slowly sucking all the air she needed to breathe out of the room. The silence made it worse. He typically would have yelled by now, so why wasn't he? It clearly wasn't due to lack of anger, as that was radiating off of him. She could almost physically see it. And she felt she could not stand it for very much longer.

"I'm sorry," she offered, though she wasn't sure exactly what about. The letter ordeal for one, and lying to him. But he didn't know about either, so she wasn't actually apologizing for those things. She knew she'd upset him. So perhaps for that, but there was a lot more to it.

He turned around abruptly and their eyes met, breaking her train of thought instantaneously. She noticed his has gone so dark they seemed to have less white surrounding them than usual. It registered then with her he'd also had a lot of wine, and at this point was likely very drunk. Yet, the way he glowered at her made him appear more sober than he should have been.

"Just go to bed," he ordered, and she noticed his hand had twitched at his side as he said this. She stared at it for a moment, and then back up at him. Without saying anything and still fully dressed in her gown, she climbed up onto the bed. Only she didn't get under the covers or situate herself to sleep, but instead propped herself up by her hands and knees. She gave one large exhale to brace herself before looking straight up at him. Then reached down and pulled the skirt of her gown in bunches up around her waist.

"What you doing?" he rasped, and his voice was still very tense. He looked like he was having trouble remaining where he stood as his leg had now taken on a bit of a jerk as well. Evidentially he was fighting off this physical reaction though, for he managed to still it. As to why that was, or why he remained there instead of proceeding with what he clearly wanted, confused her.

"Just do it. It will make you feel better, won't it?" Blair asserted, looking for confirmation.

His jaw twitched next.

"I don't think that's wise tonight," he denied, shaking his head at her.

"Please get down," he furthered and there was a slight sounding of plea in his voice as if her actions were making things immensely difficult for him.

"I want you to. I want you to feel better. And I want you to do it," Blair insisted, thinking they were one in the same, but wanting to make sure she was understood.

"No. You don't. Not tonight. You don't want me like this, I assure you. With how I'm feeling, if I start, I'm not sure when I will stop; and I don't want to hurt you. Not really. I mean slightly, yes, but that's why I need not to—"

"But you can. I give you permission, like before. To punish me," Blair interrupted, knowing it was a risk to do so, but thinking it may also be a way to get what she'd asked for.

"It won't be like before," Chuck denied almost instantly. He then moved as if he intended to walk towards her, but lurched his body back almost as soon as he did. His struggle was undeniable now.

Blair gazed up at him with curious eyes, while her stomach did flip flops in anticipation as to what would happen if he wouldn't succumb to her wishes. For as of late she found herself more fearful of words than anything. She took a deep breath and her eyes fell to the floor. If she was to speak, she was not sure she could do so while looking at him.

"I didn't forget to meet you because I was with him—" she began, but just as soon as the words had come from her lips, she saw movement on the floor. She looked up to see Chuck was advancing towards her now. As if even referring to Tom, had lit a fire in him he could not control. Her eyes widened as he climbed up onto the bed beside her and grabbed her, pulling her over his knee. One hand clenched her thigh, holding her still, while the other yanked her undergarments off of her until she'd been left bare. She felt his hand pull back, but only to return quicker than it had gone, and with much more force. She gasped loudly as she felt his palm connect with her skin, and heard the slapping sound that had resulted from it. She expected another soon after, almost ready for it, but it did not come. She looked up at him to see he was holding his hand mid-air now, frowning down at her. When their eyes met, he spoke.

"Is this what you want then? For me to take you over my knee and spank you until the only thing you can manage to think or say is my name?" he demanded, tone harsher than it usually was when they were in such circumstances.

Blair didn't say anything, but only stared back at him. She wasn't sure there was anything she could say that would be both truthful and pleasing to him. Because yes, she would prefer he do such instead of them arguing all night, and her having to answer more questions about Tom. Yet, that surely wasn't the right answer and would only get her in more trouble than she was presently in.

"Keep lying to me, and you may just get your wish. I told you I wouldn't share you with anyone," he said, lowering his voice and face so that it was closer to hers. She took a deep breath and shook her head.

"And you won't. I wasn't—" Only she hadn't managed many words when he interrupted her.

"You were. You made me share you tonight, with him. The way you kept stealing glances at him, like you cared about his reaction or his opinion of you, of us. I thought you were only like that with me," he accused.

Blair tried not to show the surprise she felt when she heard him say this. It had not been what she expected. His jealousy was typically much more based on the physical, other men dancing with her, or complimenting her looks. Apparently tonight he had noticed more than she'd hoped he would, and he had read it all wrong.

Hadn't he?

"It's not like that. With Tom and I—" She stopped as soon as she saw his expression change at the mention of the name, but it was too late. He grabbed hold of her again, flipping her over, and this time his hand did connect with her again, and again, and again. She felt that part of her skin warm at the friction, and she supposed it did sting, but it stirred something deeper in her too. And she wasn't sure that it was a bad feeling, despite the surroundings of the situation. But rather one of relief. She guessed she could have felt this way because she knew a physical approach got her out of a night full of questions. Yet, it felt like it was more than that. The night had been a lot on her, mentally and emotionally. She felt as if someone had been throwing her up, down, and all around. Wondering where she stood with Chuck the whole night, and even a small part of her questioning the same in regards to Tom; it pushed her to the point of almost feeling dizzy. But now, in this moment, she'd felt grounded again. She had been in this place with Chuck before, knew what it meant, and what she got for it in exchange. After the pain would come peace, and even possible reward. She felt his hand once more, this time stronger than any of the other blows had been. And then he stopped, and she could hear his breath had gotten harsh in the process. It appeared to take more out of him, than it had her.

"Don't say his name again," he ordered breathlessly.

Blair wondered if he meant just in regards to the rest of that night, or ever again. She didn't think now was the best time to ask either way. She felt his knee slide out from under her and he fell into a seated position beside her on the bed. She told herself it was wrong to feel disappointment at it being over. He'd clearly gotten some big burst of energy out, which had been the intended effect. She looked at him cautiously, but remained stationary in the position he'd left her. After a little while, he looked at her.

"No more. That's not how I should be with you. I didn't want to stop," he admitted, held his hand up, and shook his head.

Blair just gaped back at him, wondering if she should say she didn't want him to either.

But again, undoubtedly not.

"You can move. If that's what you're waiting for," he told her and his voice had raised slightly, clearly frustrated that she was making this harder for him than he wanted. Only, Blair still didn't budge. She thought about it, but she didn't want to. She couldn't help, but feel like the entire evening had compressed into her head and it was all too much now. It wanted out. And he'd been honest with her, about his feelings, more than he had been in a lot of ways so far. She parted her lips, unsure of what she meant to say until she'd said it.

"He brought the dress from France. It was designed by my mother, and sewn by Dorota like I said; but I think he commissioned it or something. Though I'm not entirely sure how—"

"Take it off!"

Blair felt Chuck grab hold of her again and heard him yell before she had even finished speaking. She wasn't sure why she had said it, but she was already wishing she could take it back. She blinked and he had pulled her up from the bed, both of them standing, her back to his front. She could feel his hands along her backside, searching desperately for a way to undo it. After a moment he grew frustrated and she heard a rip of fabric. She spun around, out of breath, and could feel an opening in the back now that was not there before. He was not satisfied however and made another move towards her. Blair threw up her hands instinctively and took a step back.

"No, please don't!" she screamed. His eyes widened in insulted disbelief, though he did stop in his advancement towards her. She watched as his chest heaved up and down in anger; his jaw clenched.

"Take it off or I will," he threatened.

Blair knew he must be madder at the notion of her wanting to save something from Tom, but that wasn't why she wanted it. She touched a hand to her chest and shook her head.

"It isn't about him. I'm not even for certain he paid for it, just procured it. But it's my mother's design, and more importantly sewn by Dorota—"

"I don't care!" Chuck bellowed. Blair swallowed a lump in her throat, warm tears brimming in her doe brown eyes.

"It's from home." She offered the words to try and help her case, but could see they had only hurt it further. He began taking steps towards her again, though these were slower, and with pauses in between.

"Take it off, Blair," he demanded once more, and she could hear any and all patience had gone. Blair blinked a few times, feeling hot tears begin to spill down her cheeks. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, he was at her side again. He turned her around, and though he handled her somewhat gently, when his hands grasped the fabric of her dress, she heard another loud tear. She bit her bottom lip, trying her best to conceal the sobs. When he'd finished, the remaining fabric fell off of her and onto the floor. It pooled at her feet, the color still very pretty, but she knew any and all intricate details of it had been destroyed. She stared down at it hopelessly.

"Is this all?" he questioned. She kept her back turned to him, but slowly reached up to remove the hood style headpiece from atop her curls. As she did so she let go and allowed it to drop down and join the rest of the dress at her feet. Her eyes lifted up and looked across the room, focusing on the vase of flowers that still held the note. It was the final piece, and she was pretty certain Chuck would have considered it part of the 'all' he'd referred to. Her eyes fell to the floor and she wiped away at any remaining tears still left on her cheeks.

"Did you see him before tonight?" Chuck asked suddenly, and it sounded much more like an accusation even though phrased as a question. She inhaled so quickly it caused her to hiccup, but she shook her head quickly to deny this. She felt his hand touch her shoulder, and slowly she allowed him to turn her around so that they were facing one another.

"I didn't. I didn't even know he was here until I saw him tonight," she certified further. She could tell based on his expression he still wasn't sure if he believed her or not. She reached out and touched his arm, and noticed for the first time ever he had pulled it away, as if her touch had burned him.

"Chuck?" Blair cried, frowning at him. The hurt was evident in both her eyes and voice. Was her wearing a dress really so awful he could no longer touch the skin she'd worn it in? At the thought she felt a sense of panic begin to arise in her. He looked back at her, but he wasn't easy to read. His face was almost lacking in all emotion now, even his eyes; They were still black, but much colder in appearance than before.

"How then?" he inquired slowly. He wasn't yelling anymore, but she somehow liked it less. She'd never heard him sound like this before when he spoke to her. It was like he'd shut off parts of himself she was usually granted access to, and the version of him that remained felt very unfamiliar.

"When I got back from our walk to change, after we ate. It was in my room, and—" She paused, realizing if she were to tell the truth this was the part of the story where the poem from Tom would come to play. Only, she felt she no longer possessed the courage, at least not in that moment, to present this to him. She couldn't imagine him reading the poem, which he would assuredly demand to do the moment he learned of its existence.

"Blair, tell me how you know the dress was from him," he ordered, and the volume of his voice had raised. He wasn't shouting, but she could tell he wouldn't wait much longer before he started to.

"My ladies were in here with it. They said it arrived while we were gone, and it was from France and… well they said a gentleman had dropped it off. But when I saw him tonight, he basically confirmed he had brought it. But I know it was made by my mother and Dorota—" She began again in its defense, but he held up a hand to silence her. She obliged, though she really wished he would hear her out. Although there wasn't much of a point now. The dress was as good as gone. Though it still laid there on the floor, it was in a state well past any point of repair.

"So then tonight, when I complimented you on it, and you said it was from your mother and Dorota? You thought it best to leave out the bit about it also being brought to your private apartments, by some random man?" he asked, his voice laced with much venom. Blair could not look at him. She felt like a liar, even if part of it was truthful. She had now reached where it would again need to become an untruth, if it were to be believed.

"I didn't know it could be him until I saw him," she denied.

LIAR. Her own voice screamed accusingly in her head. She ignored it as best she could, looking up to make eye contact. She knew it unwise to act like she was unable to, as he would certainly think it was because she was being deceitful. Only, he still seemed unmoved by this explanation.

"Yes, but you said you were informed a gentleman dropped it off for you; and as I pointed out, to your royal apartments, which aren't exactly publicly accessible. You have to know where they are, and have pretty good reasoning for passing through certain corridors to get to them. So, you didn't find it peculiar at all or worth mentioning to me that some supposed stranger managed to do so? And left you a gift, and one so personal in nature at that? You didn't think that would be something I would like to know? Something that was my right to know?" he roared, holding a hand against his chest.

"I—I thought—" Blair began, but he was not evidently not finished.

"Do I not give you everything you ask for? Are you not satisfied with what I am able to provide? Have I not had almost a hundred dresses made for you from my own royal dressmaker? And do you honestly think I would not have sent to France or whatever other fucking country you wanted, to procure you whatever god damn garment you desired?" The questions flew from his lips so quickly they became almost hard to comprehend. She felt all control of the situation slipping away from her rapidly.

"I know you would have. I thought maybe you did. I was confused and for all I knew the gentleman had just brought it from France for whom had commissioned it. I never saw him or even knew who he was at that point. Part of me thought it could have been from you, but then when you brought it up, I only began to realize something was amiss," she explained. She felt dirtied by the words, as they could now only be described as dishonest.

"You should have told me then," Chuck returned, and he wasn't screaming anymore. She looked at him desperately, vision blurring from newly forming tears.

"How did he tell you then? That it was from him, when he saw you? Clearly you weren't your usual cunning self or you'd just put it together, right?" he bit, and she did not miss the intended insult. It was a world away from how he had been with her earlier, complimenting her intelligence while she learned how to play poker, and roulette. Blair stared back at him helplessly, knowing she was out of lies.

"It was in passing conversation. I had just referred to a lot of things changing since I had left France, and… well, I think he meant to tease me or poke fun at me because he said something like not all had changed. Then he referred specifically to how I looked and smelled—"

"He smelled you?" Chuck interrupted, scowling at the suggestion. Blair felt her heart skip a beat, and not in a good way. She shook her head, though not to deny this, but rather that she could share in any guilt or participation in it.

"He only said I smelled sweet, which I do wear perfume in fairness. But about the dress, well he said something along the lines of me looking as… ravishing in it, as he knew I would. Which of course then made me realize he had been the one to deliver it to me," she clarified and she worried by the way his jaw had clenched in response she had not done well.

"And how did that make you feel?" he asked alas, the question taking her by much surprise. It had not been what she'd expected he'd say, in all the options of things she imagined he could have.

"What?" Blair wanted to be sure she had not misheard or misinterpreted what he was saying to her.

"How did him telling you that you smelled sweet, and looked ravishing to him make you feel? When he got as close to you as he evidently did?" he reiterated. So, she had heard him correctly then, and understood the question. Yet, it didn't make it any less shocking to her. She stared back at him, making sure that they did not lose eye contact with one another. Then she attempted to reach out a hand again, though she didn't touch him, but only to show she wanted to.

"It made me feel wrong," she answered. And it felt a relief that while perhaps not the complete disclosed details of all she felt when it had happened, that had been how it had left her feeling once it was done. Suddenly, she felt a hand grab onto the one she had held out to him, and she gasped a little looking down at it. What felt like warm waves of reprieve began to wash over her body, and her legs wobbled a little. She moved to catch her balance, but tripped more in doing so. Only she did not fall to the floor, but forward into Chuck, who caught her with immediate response. And when he did, he didn't push her or stand her back up, but pulled her into him further. She realized when his arms wrapped around her that it was an embrace. She sighed and closed her eyes, allowing her body to fully melt onto his own.

"You need to sleep," he said after a little while, and he pulled back just enough so they could look at one another. She felt one of his hands reach down to grasp tighter against her backside. Some soreness had developed there from before, in response.

"Stay with me," she requested, though she realized it sounded much more like a demand. She grasped onto him tighter, her hands bunching the fabric of his clothing.

"Please don't leave me alone," she sounded again, though her voice had faltered some. It still felt against her nature to admit to wanting him there to such an extent, to even perhaps needing him there. As her eyes fell shamefully at this, his hand reached up to lift her chin so her gaze stayed with his.

"I don't want him coming here ever again. And you're to tell me if he does, if any other man ever does. Whether you're here or not. I gave you these apartments so that I could spend time with you. I won't have others thinking I mean to share it. Going forward, your housing is off limits to the public. Even your door. All future deliveries shall be received in the proper place, by staff whose job it is sort through it," he asserted, and she had expected as much honestly. She already was guarded pretty securely, but she imagined going forward anyone wishing to see her would need a specific and approved invitation to do so.

"I understand. I have no means to object," Blair agreed, nodding her head eagerly. Chuck stared back at her for what felt like was a long while, but finally she saw his stronghold begin to falter.

"Good," he sighed, pulling her into him again so he could place a kiss atop her forehead. She smiled a little at this all too familiar, and now immensely comforting gesture of his. Yet, she still found her hands gripping the material of his shirt, as if she intended to hold onto him, just in case he made any move to try and leave. Only he didn't, and as she felt his body relax more and more at her touch, she knew he meant to stay. She'd gotten her way, and after how he had been that night, that was an accomplishment worth commending herself about. She was out of harms way, for now, and he had not gone from her. They would spend the night together.

XOXOXOXOXO

Daniel Humphrey eyed Thomas Wyatt from across the room with both trepidation and curiosity. Most of the crowd had cleared out after the prince and Lady Blair had retired for the evening. Duke Archibald had hung around for a while with some of his friends, toasting to the prince and his winnings. Dan was rather certain he had done this within close proximity to the poet on purpose, wanting to further rub salt in his wounds. The secretary yearned for only the comfort of his bed, but had waited dutifully for the perfect time to approach. It appeared, that time had finally come. He sighed, stretching his neck, as he made his way over to the table in which Wyatt sat. Tom had remained at the poker table after he'd lost, and was now the only one still seated. He had picked up the deck of cards that had lost him a good amount of money earlier, and shuffled them absentmindedly in his hands.

"That was an interesting game," Dan observed. He pulled out a chair for himself and sat down. Wyatt did not look up at him, but merely continued to fidget with the deck of cards before him.

"Was it? I am not so certain interesting is the word I would use for it. Not when there are so many others much more befitting," he countered, and in doing so Dan realized he had indeed heard him. He was now laying the cards down, as if he intended to play a new hand. Once he'd set out the proper amount, he set the rest of them in a stack to the side. He sighed, looking down at them.

"I suppose you're here to collect on your master's debts?" Wyatt assumed, looking up at him for the first time since Dan had approached him. He flashed a grin as if to let Dan know he meant no ill will towards him, but it was more tired than it had been before.

"Um no, that's not really my expertise. Though it's my understanding if you are not capable of settling the full amount tonight, a payment plan can be worked out of course," he offered politely, wanting to seem like he was trying to be helpful.

Tom chuckled, "Yes, one with very fair interest, I'm sure. As I'm also quite certain the prince already knows I don't have the means to pay this. I suspect he believes I shall have to now enlist his patronage, accept his terms and never write about or look at Blair again?" He rolled his eyes at this notion, as if even though he suggested it, it was something that wasn't likely.

"I think he just wants you gone," Dan suggested, and he wondered if when scheming one should avoid making such truthful statements. He figured it would be alright. Surely, he hadn't said anything that wasn't already painfully obvious?

"But it's not just that, is it? If it was, he could have sent me away easily. Or better yet, not have brought me here in the first place. No, he wants something I suspect will be much harder for him to get. He wants her heart, and he's apparently very insecure someone else may already have it," Tom remarked.

Dan glanced around nervously, hoping no one else had heard him. No one had ever directly told him he wasn't allowed to discuss the prince's personal feelings, but he figured it likely wasn't wise. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be anyone within earshot and the few people left appeared to be rather drunk. He looked back at Wyatt, and could tell by his eyes he had not finished all he meant to say. He shook his head at Dan.

"Only he doesn't realize it wouldn't matter if he did have it, all for himself. He wouldn't know what to do with it. He'd never understand her heart, not really. How could someone like him? Someone who knows nothing of loss or suffering? He could never truly know her, not entirely. But of course, someone like him would assume he could. I am sure all he thinks he needs to succeed is to remove all other opponents. As if Blair would have someone simply because there is no one else left. Now I am certain she's had her fun, and that it's given him a false sense of assurance. He'll think because he can appeal to the part of her little girl heart that's obsessed with dresses and gems, that she cares for him. Well, I know her better. And that she's merely using him to get what she wants. But it's just as well, as he's using her too. It's not like people don't talk about him at court, what he's truly like. Though I am rather worried she does not realize the gravity in the mistake she's made in gaining his attention." There was evident disgust in his voice now. He glared down at the cards before him, like he was imagining the prince in place of them.

"Master Wyatt, please. I understand you have strong feelings and a past when it comes to Lady Blair, but I would warn you to speak carefully in regards to what you say about his highness," Dan cautioned, and even though no one was close enough to hear him, he still spoke barely above a whisper. Wyatt's eyes flickered up to meet his and he stared at him for a while, likely trying to read him. Dan did his best to keep his composure, and Tom spoke.

"I suppose I forgot for a moment you work for his highness. Forgive me for speaking so freely, as if you were a friend," he sighed. Dan felt himself perk up some at the word. He wasn't sure if that was because the idea of Wyatt wanting him as a friend was flattering, or just what he needed to see to the situation in the way the prince had wanted him to.

"I did not mean around me, but only to be conscious of where you are and whom you're in the presence of when doing so. I do work for his highness, and the crown. But our relationship is that of a professional one. Him and I are not friends," Dan revealed, and he had surprised himself by saying it. Mostly because it was somewhat true. He didn't hate the prince, but he definitely was not yet certain whether he liked him, or his methods for getting what he wanted. But that also shouldn't have been his motivation for saying it, as regardless of whether he approved or not, he was now a part of one of those very plots.

"Is he as cruel as they say?" Tom beckoned abruptly, staring intently at Dan.

Dan both shrugged and shook his head.

"I cannot say. He has never acted as such in my presence, but I am aware of the rumors in which you speak. And of course, all royal families have their reputations," he acknowledged, though with much hesitation.

"And the one she's engaged to? It doesn't bother him that his new step brother has been parading around court with his future bride? How does that work exactly?" Tom questioned. It was then Dan knew he had indeed been gathering his own intel on the situation. He wondered how much he actually knew, and how much he meant to try and collect from Dan.

"I am not sure he is fully aware of the circumstances, and if he is, I think he knows not what to do with them. I would suspect he finds the prince intimidating, and knows despite his recent rise in life it still cannot compare to the power in which the prince yields," Dan explained. He too had wondered about the former Duke Grey, and his feelings on the obvious relationship between Lady Blair and his highness. Though he had been admittedly easy to forget about in his absence, a feeling Dan was certain extended to his highness and the lady as well. They often acted as if fiancé didn't exist at all.

"He must be a real wet blanket for Blair to not have even entertained what he could give her," Tom summarized, running a hand through his curly hair. Dan's eyebrows rose at this statement, and he wondered if it would bug Tom or the prince to know they shared in at least one opinion.

"He is not as… charismatic as the prince," Dan suggested, though he had found it difficult to select the proper for word for how he would describe his highness. And while Prince Charles was charismatic when he wanted to be, this still felt as if it fell short of what Dan had really meant to say.

"Funny, that's not been my experience with him," Tom retorted.

"Well, I am not so certain he intends to charm you," Dan replied. Tom began to chuckle at this, and with it the mood lightened some.

"Clearly. Though I have a feeling you are aware of what he means to do to me, even if your professionalism keeps you from acknowledging it. But if he thinks my lack of coin will chase me off or force me to succumb to his will, then he's already underestimated me," he informed and the amused looking grin which seemed to be his standard expression returned. His words however, made Dan feel uneasy. He wasn't sure exactly what he had hoped for out Thomas Wyatt, but a fight had not been among them.

"Tom, as you've gathered the prince orchestrated this game to force your hand, to make you seek financial assistance from him. You must consider what other lengths he would go to, if you are to proceed from here. And I assure you, any debts you acquire in the evening shall follow you into the morning," Dan alluded, wondering if he knew he meant in regards to more than just money.

Wyatt's face tightened slightly, as if despite already realizing this, it still stung to have it stated so plainly aloud to him. However, he was quick to regain his composure. He shrugged.

"You speak of nothing I am not already fully aware of, Dan. I see his game, and him for what he truly is. I won't be letting him manipulate me into any unfavorable arrangements. I shall find a way to settle my debts on my own terms. I need just find someone who actually enjoys my work, some other patronage," Wyatt gathered, though his expression indicated he may already realize this would be easier said than done. Dan saw his opening, but wondered if it would be too obvious to try and take it now. He sighed and hoped it would not.

"I do not believe finding others who enjoy your writing will be the problem, Master Wyatt. But rather, finding anyone who wishes to go against the prince, once it's been made apparent, you're not among those in his good graces. You are very talented. I own some of your poetry books myself," Dan told him, making sure to add in a compliment to try and further sell him. It was truthful at least, which made it all the easier to say. He did enjoy Wyatt's work, and Dan had owned a book that contained some of it even before the prince had tasked him with acquiring any and all of his works he could find of the poet's.

"Do you?" Tom asked with an ever-growing grin.

"Yes, I've long fancied the literary arts. I would have sought a career in such myself had I not been born the eldest male in my family, and by default expected to climb higher for myself and my them. My father is actually a court musician, or he was back in the day," Dan revealed. It felt a little funny. It wasn't often he spoke about himself or his family. Mostly because no one ever really asked him, and he'd never had a lot of time for friends.

"An artist forced into politics, such a tragedy could write itself," Wyatt said with a look of sympathy. Dan only nodded, and spared a small smile. Then he did his best to imitate how he thought he must look when an idea suddenly occurred to him.

"Perhaps you could write something for me? My coin is by no means worth what the prince's is, but I could at least promise that you'd be writing to an audience who means to appreciate your work. I could share it in some of my smaller circles, and perhaps someone else would be swayed to commission something from you as well," he suggested. He hoped it had been convincing enough, that Tom couldn't see right through this pathetic charade.

"You want to offer me some kind of patronage? To help me settle the debts your master put upon me?" Tom asked, eyebrows raised. He didn't sound skeptical yet, but Dan could tell he was taken aback by this turn of events.

"Firstly, I would prefer you not refer to his highness as my master. I am the royal secretary, and though I serve the crown, I am not a servant. No one owns me, or my thoughts. And my coin is mine to spend as I wish. While others around here may see value in frivolity, like gambling and drinking; I seek enjoyment elsewhere. When I am not working, I prefer to fill my days with as much substance and meaning as possible. It is the only way which I can survive this way of life." When Dan finished, he glanced up at Wyatt who was looking him over closely. He no longer smiled, but he didn't appear angry or aggravated either.

"Apologies, I meant it as more of an insult to his highness than yourself. But I can refrain now that you've asked me to do so. As for your offer, I am not sure. You seem alright, but you are employed by the crown. How am I to trust you do so for your own motivation, and not someone else's?" Tom asked, and the implication was clear. For a moment Dan felt a sense of panic, afraid he would not succeed. He searched his brain for something else he could say, something to further convince the other man.

"Stop it!" A loud girlish sounding giggle sounded from across the room, interrupting them. Both men turned to see where it had come from. Across the room was an extremely drunk Lady Serena, and around her had gathered a small group of men. One was laughing, holding a bottle of wine in his hands. The other two were standing much closer to her, and one had his hand extended out as if he had just touched or grabbed at her. Dan watched as that same man leaned in, and tried to do so again Serena laughed louder, and twirled around to physically evade him.

"Come on, Serena. I know you like me. And I know you're finished with Duke Archibald. You ignored him all night," the man said drunkenly, and he reached for her again.

"You know nothing. Only I know what I'm to do, and I only know what that is when I decide do it," Serena denied, again erupting into laughter. She then stumbled some, and the man seized the opportunity to seize her. He pulled her up, but Dan took immediate notice he did not release her afterwards. The other one stepped closer, and reached out a hand to finger a strand of her hair.

"Come drink with us back in my apartments. It will be fun," he coaxed. The way he smiled at her made Dan feel very uncomfortable. He rose from his seat and upon doing so realized Tom had as well. He turned to look at him, both exchanging a knowing expression.

"She's always getting herself into trouble. This is why she needs Blair around to watch out for her," Tom told him, shaking his head with a sigh. He then began to walk over to Serena and the other men, and Dan found himself compelled to follow.

"Tom!" Serena beckoned with a delighted grin. She tried to pull away from the other man, but made a face when he did not release her.

"Let me go, I want to see my friend," she whined. It was apparent she had not realized the true intentions of the other men, or if she had, she'd not thought them to be a real threat.

"Ignore him. He's got enough to worry about after losing so badly to his highness this evening. Since when does a girl like you want to entertain the company o losers?" the man returned. Dan turned to Tom to see if this insulted him, but if it did it wasn't apparent. He merely cocked his head, and flashed a grin that suggested he was still much at ease.

"The lady asked for you to release her. And she won't be going with you to your apartments. She won't be going with you anywhere. Let her go," Tom stated calmly. The man holding Serena laughed at him, but the other two resorted to just glare.

"And why on earth would I listen to you? The lady shall go where she likes. What is your title anyways? I doubt you outrank all of us," the man sneered. He must have tightened his hold on Serena as well, because she suddenly seemed much less comfortable in his arms. She struggled against his chest.

"Let me go. You're being mean to my friend. And he's right, I don't want to go to your apartments. You're hurting me. Let go." Her voice became more strained as she continued to try and push off from the man's chest.

"Let her go!" Dan realized it was him who had said, and quite forcefully, only when the surprise registered in the other's faces. He looked down to see he had taken a step towards the man and Serena, and his fists were clenched at his sides. He relinquished them and rubbed his hands on his pants, hoping the other men had not noticed this particular gesture.

"And who the hell are you?" the man spat, and though he held Serena further away from him so she could not hit him, he still held onto her.

"He's his highness's royal secretary, someone who always has the ear of the prince and the king whenever he returns. So perhaps you should listen to him," Tom spoke up, answering for him. Dan was thankful for this. Apparently, his courage could not be tapped whenever he wanted, but had a mind of its own and would only make appearances when it wished to do so.

"I know you," Serena interjected. And her drunken stare softened into a smile. Dan could not help himself; he smiled back at her ever so slightly. Then he nodded to the men and cleared his voice.

"That's right. That's who I am. And I shall definitely be letting his highness know you went against the wishes of this lady, and forced yourself upon her, should you not let her go immediately and be on your way. Need I remind you Lady Serena is a dear friend of Lady Blair's, who is very much also in the prince's favor," Dan asserted.

"Oh favor? Is that what we're calling French whores now?" the one with the bottle retorted, shaking his head with a laugh. Only the laugh didn't last long. It was gone as quickly as it came. There was a scuttle, the bottle shattered on the floor, and a thud sounded as the man who'd said this fell back onto one of the tables. Dan looked beside him and could see Tom now holding a clenched fist at his side.

One of the men still standing moved towards him, but the one holding Serena let go of her and grabbed onto his friend. He shook his head and pulled him back.

"I wouldn't. You know what happened to Lord Baizen," he reminded his friend. The other man nodded and retreated back a step, but continued to glare at Tom. Dan looked to see if the man on the table would try and strike back, but he was out cold. Had the situation not been so tense, he'd have told Tom he was some impressed.

"Come on, let's go. He is the royal secretary," the man murmured, pulling at the shirt of the other. He hesitated, but just to scowl at Tom a moment longer. Then he sighed and exited the room with his friend. Tom stared after them, and Dan wondered if he was thinking about following them. Dan took this opportunity to see to Serena.

"Are you alright, my Lady?" he asked. She was looking down at her dress, straightening out the parts of it that had wrinkled or ruffled in the commotion. Then she looked up at him, and shrugged.

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm not damsel in distress. Though you're quite the white knight, Daniel Humphrey. Who would have thought?" She giggled at him, and it took all he had not to blush in response. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. It was hard to look at her and speak at the same time. Her beauty was distracting.

"Please, I am no knight. And it was Master Wyatt who really came to your rescue. Are you alright, Tom?" He turned to look at the other man who remained unmoved until spoken to. Slowly he turned in the direction of Serena and Dan, though he wore the same expression he'd fashioned for the man he'd knocked out. But eventually he gathered himself and physically shrugged it off.

"I'm fine. Him not so much." He motioned to the man still out cold on the table, and then flashed each of them a satisfied smile.

"Tom's not usually one to fight. But for Blair—" Serena began as her amused attitude returned, but Tom was quick to interrupt her.

"Serena," he said simply, and it had been enough. She quieted and nodded at him, before looking back at Dan.

"Do you know where Blair is? Was there some kind of after party with Duke Archibald and his highness? No one told me," she wondered, and she looked disappointed at the mere possibility of being left out.

"Fair not, Serena. I do not believe there was. It appeared Blair went to bed," Tom offered. Serena turned towards him and laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, I'm certain a bed is exactly where she went. As for if it was hers..." She trailed off into another fit of giggles. Dan could tell Tom did not appreciate this implication, but was doing his best to have patience with her in her inebriated state.

"Do you need help getting to your own apartments, Lady Serena?" Dan asked eagerly. Afterwards he was inwardly glad she was likely too drunk to notice how quick he had jumped at the chance to walk her home. However, he was certain Tom who'd turned to look at him with a knowing grin, had not missed this.

"I'm fine. Eric's actually coming to collect me. A servant somewhere told me not so long ago. I think Blair may have sent for him. She never trusts me to see to myself when there's this much wine involved," she sighed with a roll of her eyes.

"Can't imagine why," Tom mused, throwing Dan another look. Then he glanced around the room and his smile grew as he seemed to spot someone he knew.

'

"Eric!" he greeted happily. He made his way towards a younger man who had been approaching them, and threw his hands up with means to embrace him. Dan figured he was Serena's younger brother, more than likely by a few years. He had dirty blonde hair, and brown eyes, but other than those slightly differing features one could tell they were related. He didn't look very big, smaller in size and stature than Tom, but Dan guessed he may still have some growing to do. He still had a boyish way about him. He embraced Tom in a warm hug, with a genuine looking smile on his face as they broke apart and spoke amongst one another. Tom reached out and ruffled some of his hair and Eric laughed, though he fixed it as soon as they'd parted. Then they turned together and began to walk back over to where Serena and Dan stood.

"Little brother," Serena beamed, stumbling towards him. She snaked her arms around his neck, which looked a bit awkward given she was a lot taller than him. He seemed to manage though as he held up the weight she threw onto him, and hugged her back. He nodded to Dan with a pleasant smile.

"Who's this? I hope not one of your victims," Eric joked, giving his sister a look that suggested he only meant to tease her. She rolled her eyes, but smiled at Dan as she winked at him. He felt his palms begin to sweat some, and rubbed them on the sides of his pants again. He had to look away from her so he returned his attention to her brother.

"Daniel Humphrey, royal secretary," Dan introduced, bowing his head some.

"He's very proper," Tom whispered, leaning onto Eric's shoulder casually as he did so.

"Eric Van Der Woodsen, Serena's younger brother. It's a pleasure to meet you," Eric returned. Dan wasn't sure what else to say so he merely nodded and smiled.

"I'm tired," Serena murmured, and she turned her body into Eric fully to rest her head on his shoulder. Dan would be disappointed to see her go, but he could at least consider it a successful interaction. He had not made a fool of himself in front of her. If only she had not been so drunk, he'd stand more of a chance of her remembering it.

"Please don't let us keep you," Dan said, stepping to the side as if to clear a path for them to exit.

"Well, I would like to stay and talk, but duty calls. Perhaps you could come for breakfast sometime this week, Tom? And you as well, Mister Humphrey? It would appear you also came to Serena's aid tonight. Allow us to thank you properly," Eric suggested.

"Yes, of course," Dan answered hastily. Again, he felt Tom cast a side eye at him, but he pretended to not notice. Instead, he gave a wave to Serena and Eric as they headed towards the corridor. Once they were no longer in earshot, Tom turned back towards him.

"Not you too?" he accused though his amusement was apparent.

Dan's face felt hot, and he knew it meant he had blushed. He pursed his lips and shook his head.

"You know I could say the same for you in regards to—" He had stopped himself just in time. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, and tried to regain his composure. Tom looked not the least bit insulted though, and only began to laugh instead.

"What is it with that woman? I truly do not see the appeal. One cannot deny she is beautiful and rather fun when wine is involved, but above all she is fleeting. I believe it may truly be in her nature to break hearts," he declared, shaking his head, and now looking at Dan as if he pitied him.

"You're her friend though?" Dan asked and Tom frowned. The question had likely confused him as the answer was apparent. But this hadn't really been what Dan wanted to ask, just what had come out when another thought occurred to him. One may even call it an idea, were they privy to what the prince wanted him to do with the poet.

"Yes, I've known her since she was a girl. Her and Blair. But I assure you I'm not the least bit interested, in Serena. If that's what you're worried about," he assured him, patting his shoulder.

"Um no, that's not why I was asking. I meant to say you know her, and your friends. I basically just got invited to breakfast with her and her brother because of you; well, perhaps if you were to accept my patronage, part of the exchange could also involve you helping further introduce me to Lady Serena? If she can't stand me of course we could drop that part of the arrangement. And I would still pay you an appropriate amount of coin either way, as I know you need it," Dan explained. He spoke very quickly and some nervously, but that had more to do with the bit about Serena than the whole setting Tom up part of it. And for that he felt bad, but what must be done, must be done. He got up enough courage to finally glance up at Tom and could see he seemed to be thinking it over.

"Alas a genuine offer, Mister Humphrey. I feel I must consider it. Allow me to think it over tonight, and I shall give you an answer in the morning, at breakfast?" Tom suggested, and Dan felt there was a rather good chance he would accept. The prince would be pleased. And yet that made him feel both good and bad. He tried not to let onto the latter of his feelings though and instead nodded to Tom and smiled.

"Of course. Take all the time you need."

"Very good, now I need only find some way to sort this with the royal debt collectors," Tom sighed, clapping his hands together.

"I should be able to help there. Allow me to speak with them on your behalf. I shall let them know you made arrangements to pay back the prince already, with me," Dan offered. Tom chuckled, quirking his brow in question.

"I thought that wasn't part of your job?" he asked.

"It isn't. But I'm willing to do a favor or two, for a friend," Dan clarified.

"A friend?" Tom echoed, and further surprise showed on his face.

"You should accept them more easily, seeing how you have so few here," Dan joked, wanting to make sure the conversation did not drift into more serious of territory. He felt bad for referring to Tom as such now, as his true intentions were not that of a real friend's. But he could not drop the charade now, not after he'd already gotten so far.

"Oh, I don't know. I've found no one at court is really friends. Everyone's always whispering about one another, stabbing each other in the back. And I do have a few friends here. There's Serena, and Eric, now that he's back. Oh, and I met a friend on journey over, Aaron Rose; he's a court musician, like your father. So that's three, and if you work out, that'd be four. I'd include Blair, but friends, was never quite the right word for us…" he trailed off as if trying to come up with one to better describe their relationship.

"I believe I've gathered that," Dan countered. He held up his hands to show he meant to suggest Wyatt did not need to continue. The other man shrugged and then extended himself out to Dan in an exaggerated bow.

"Mister Humphrey, tonight has been some amended by your company. I must thank you, for that and the rest." Though his actions were done so in a joking manner, Dan could tell his words were genuine. It made him feel like a total ass. But he kept up the act, and merely bowed in response.

"Master Wyatt." Then he watched as Tom strolled off, a returned spring in his step. He'd go to sleep tonight and consider not all had been a loss. The poet would succumb to slumber with a false sense of security while the secretary would likely lie awake all night with guilt.

XOXOXOXOXO

Blair rose up in her bed, feeling instantly cold. Chuck should have been beside her, providing body warmth, but he was not. She felt a slight panic arise in her, and she hurried to get out of bed. She stumbled down the hallway, headed for the doors in hopes he hadn't fully exited yet. Only when she looked down the halls, she saw the doors were closed, and undisturbed. If he had gone, she'd already missed him. Her shoulders slumped as she felt the disappointment physically. And then a voice called out to her.

"Blair?"

It was him. She turned her head quickly in the direction it had come. And she realized she was standing near the opening of her dining room, where he could see her from his place at the table. She breathed a sigh of relief and entered the room. Only when she saw his somber expression she halted before the table, not sure if he wanted her to approach. She hesitated, unsure of what to say.

"Come here," he encouraged, scooting out his chair some and motioning to his lap. Blair couldn't help, but smile a little as she made her way over to him. She positioned herself atop his legs, snaking her arms around his neck as she did so, and smiling up at him. He stared down at her with a similar expression to before, and she wished he would change it to one she could read easier. She wanted to know what he was thinking.

"I thought you'd gone," she admitted, finding enough courage to speak when she realized despite how he looked, he didn't seem angry at her. She reached her hands up and stroked back some of his dark hair, which had grown out more than she'd seen it before. She knew it was likely because his father wasn't around to criticize him about it. He watched her for a moment and then shook his head.

"No. I just wanted to let you sleep after last night," he revealed. His hands reached for hers and she gave them to him, watching as he turned them over and kissed her palms before looking back up at her.

"But you should know I'll always take care of you after," he told her, and there was a kindness about him now. She could tell he was being truthful; and it made her heart feel as if it could soar straight out of her chest like a bird.

"It doesn't hurt much today," she offered adventitiously. Though that was a bit of a lie.

"That's surprising," he countered skeptically, and sounded some amused by this notion. He reached a hand up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear affectionately.

"But either way, I want you to take it easy today. I've already asked your ladies to prepare you a bath with some salts and oils that should help soothe away any pain that remains," he assured her, casting a knowing glance. She had a feeling he knew now she'd been untruthful about not feeling any of it.

"Will you join me for it?" Blair asked hopefully, not particularly warmed to the idea of having to deal with her ladies fussing over her. Especially if there was even the slightest bruise, it was always so easy to spot out amongst her pale complexion. And they didn't seem to understand that she could appreciate the occasional roughness as much as the prince. They always acted like she was some wounded little bird whose wings had been clipped. It was insulting. She much preferred when he saw to her instead, as in those moments he could be… dare she think it, loving? Whatever it was, it made her want to possess it and that version of him in the way she felt he spoke about wanting her. She wanted assurance that the small part of him that seemed to want to care and nourish, was reserved for her, an her alone.

"Please—" she began, but when he chuckled at this, she felt all worries within her cease. Slowly, her Chuck was returning to her.

"Yes, of course, Sweetheart. Whatever you want," he guaranteed.

She appreciated how in that moment she could so full heartedly believe him and know she would not be disappointed. She wished it could always be that way between them, in regards to every situation and person they faced. But it seemed that wasn't realistic, a disappointment in life someone had not at all prepared her for. But for now, she pushed those thoughts away, not wanting to spoil the moment they did have, the present moment. He was trying very hard to make her happy and make it evident she knew he was doing so. She wished to return the favor. So, she turned in her seat, which was still his lap, and faced the table. She smiled down at the elaborate and unnecessary spread of breakfast items as if they were far more appealing to her than they were in actuality. Then she picked up a scone, and a knife which she dipped jam into and spread thickly onto its surface.

"I'm very hungry this morning," she said purposefully loud enough so there was no way he could not hear it. She brought it up to her lips and took a bite. In response, she felt his hands wrap around her from behind, and his lips kiss her on her nape. She giggled, holding her other hand up to her mouth to prevent any crumbs from spilling. Chuck nuzzled his nose in the crook of her neck, breathing her in appreciatively. As she finished the scone she felt his lips nearer to her ear, and it tickled the skin, but in a pleasurable way. She laughed again, more loudly than before.

"Take your time, but let me know when you're finished," he breathed, and his voice sounded huskier than usual, as it sometimes did in the mornings after a night of partying.

Blair could have gone without another bite, but she knew her eating normally pleased him. So, she reached forward for a strawberry, dipping it in cream, and took another bite. It was rather good so she had a couple more of them, as well as a piece of bacon and even some of Chuck's eggs. She stopped before she was too full, as she hated the feeling, but she noticed she was more content than she often was at the end of meals.

"I'm finished," she declared, pushing the plate away from her. She felt Chuck kiss her cheek and her body being lifted with his as he got up from the chair. He had scooped her up quite effortlessly, one arm holding her top half while the other was hooked underneath the backside of her knees. She reached up, snaking her arms around his neck to make the hold easier for him. He carried her from the dining room, over the threshold of each chamber, until they had arrived in her washroom. She had been snickering in delight at this gesture, and he joined in with laughter, apparently enjoying watching her enjoy herself. It took them a moment to realize they weren't alone, and two servant girls remained in the room with them. They were looking, very wide-eyed, mostly at the prince who had stunned them by his behavior. Blair felt honor in this, as it only further reinforced, he was different when alone with her.

"Lady Blair's bath is ready for her, your highness," one spoke up; they had bowed their heads and curtsied to greet him.

"Very good. You may go then," Chuck dismissed with a nod of his head. He slowly lowered Blair to the ground, his full attention now back on her. Both of the girls spared Blair a look as they hurried from the room, though she did not miss that both continued to glance back as much as they could before fully exiting.

"Hold your hair up," he instructed considerately as he positioned himself behind her. She did as he asked and held it for him as he untied the back of her nightdress for her. It drifted down to the floor and she let her hair fall, cascading down her back as it was before. She felt him lean into her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, and nuzzling again into her neck.

"You smell like me," he murmured, a low chuckle following after it. He seemed somewhat pleased with this fact. And she didn't doubt it was true, as he had been all over her for most of the morning, and the night before.

"I like to smell like you," she revealed, turning a cheek so he could see she was smiling at him.

"How you smell reminds me of home… or what home means now," she elaborated, though she spoke slowly and carefully. It still felt like a risk at times to reveal things so personal, but she could tell without a doubt by his expression, that he was very satisfied with this omission. He picked her up off her feet again suddenly, and she squealed, grabbing tightly onto him. He leaned in to kiss her, it starting off sweet, but deepening immediately. When he pulled back, she was a little out of breath. He carefully lowered her into the tub, though she noticed he stuck one of his hands in first. She could tell he did this to make sure the water wasn't too hot or cold before he let her touch it. It occurred to her though a miniscule and silly task, this was something a prince like him would never have need to do for anyone, even himself. And yet here he was doing it for her instinctively, never forgetful when it came to her protection or wellbeing.

"Is something wrong?" he asked with concern. She glanced at her reflection across the room in a large, floor length mirror. She realized she had stopped smiling while in thought about this and quickly recovered it, grinning at him with a shake of her head. He smiled back, and reached for a sponge that had been set out for her. He dipped it in the warm water before pulling it out to lavish it with some nice smelling oils and soaps. She watched his actions closely, holding up her hair for him again when he brought the sponge up to her chest. She giggled, not able to help herself as he washed her breasts. It was the gentlest he had ever been with them. He then moved onto to her shoulders, neck, and arms. The sponge felt good on her skin, and his movements were very tender. Once he had finished with her back, he pulled his hand away so she could stand. Blair took hold of the sides of the tub and rose up, revealing a view of her full backside to him now, with only her lower legs in the water. Chuck stood as well, running the sponge down her spine, and stopping when he got below her waist.

"You bruised a little," he remarked, and she could feel him washing it somehow even more careful than he had the rest of her. She shrugged her shoulders, turning her head to look back at him.

"It's not like anyone else will ever know," she acknowledged. He smirked at her, and then turned her back around to continue. Once she was lathered up in bubbles, she grabbed the sponge from him and turned to face him.

"Be careful," he rasped, clearly not liking how careless and fast she had been in a tub full of water. He grabbed hold of her waist to make certain that she would not slip, and if she did, that he could simply continue to hold her up.

"You said you were going to get in with me. You can finish washing me in here," she told him, flashing a face she knew he had trouble saying no to.

"Fine," he sighed. He then frowned before letting go of her, clearly not happy about this, but unable to undress himself without doing so. While he removed his clothes she sat back down in the tub, pulling her knees to her chest so that there was more room for him. Her eyes raked over his naked form before he got in the tub, and she had a moment where she thought it peculiar to have gone so long not knowing what a man looked like, to now having one's body engrained in her memory. She was glad it was his she knew. She liked it quite well. She giggled to herself at the thought of her mother ever hearing such thoughts. Eleanor would likely have keeled over.

"Are you laughing at me?" Chuck asked, feigning a hurt expression as he lowered himself into the tub. He sat down across from her, and she immediately crawled through the water, to lie on top of him. He leaned back, fully accepting her body onto his.

"No, I would never," she swore. She kissed his lips, bringing her hands up to touch his cheeks, and sat on his torso. Perhaps it was how much lighter she was in the water, but he didn't seem to mind at all. He seemed comfortable, content even.

"You better not. Or I just might punish you again," he mused, and she saw him smirk between their kisses. She pulled back, tracing her fingers around in the hair on his chest.

"Well then I might have to," she teased, giggling as their eyes met.

"You're not supposed to like it, or you're not supposed to admit that you do," Chuck said with a laugh. He paused for a moment, quirking his brow at her.

"You do like it though, don't you?" he asked knowingly.

Blair smiled shyly, her eyes falling back down to his chest. She traced her fingers through the hair again, and then nodded very slowly.

"I like… how it makes both of us feel. And I like this," she admitted, motioning to their current situation in the bathtub. She met his gaze and saw how he was looking at her encouragingly, as if he wanted her to continue. He always wanted to know what she was thinking, more than any man she'd ever met before, possibly more than any person ever.

"I like being your priority, and you taking care of me. A little physical pain is a small price to pay for an hour or two at the center of your world," Blair revealed, and she wondered if it had been just a tad too much. His face didn't seem to indicate as such. He was staring at her intently, and her words seemed to elevate him.

"You don't have to do that to have that to get to the center. And I assure you, you spend much more time there than an hour or two. It's more like…you are the center of it, Blair. Or at least that's how I prefer to have it be, when life allows. Which I realize royal duties don't always align with such hopes, but even on those days just because I'm not with you doesn't mean you're not with me. It feels like you're always with me, in a way," he admitted.

Blair felt something in her stomach flutter. And by the warmth in her cheeks, she was sure she had blushed at his words. He touched a hand to them, caressing the skin gently. She was trying to think of something she could say back, something just as good as what he'd just given her. There were definite options, but the only one's worth anything were far too much of a risk on her part. So instead, unable to think of anything she felt that deserved to follow his words, she rested her cheek on his chest, and burrowed herself into him as much as she could. She wished they could stay there, together, forever. If only it were just them, and no one to answer to, but their own feelings. It wasn't that simple though, and a small part of her feared it never could be. So, for now, she'd prefer to pretend and stay with him there, for as long as he'd allow, or until the water got too cold for them to bare. Thankfully, he seemed intent with doing the same.

XOXOXOXOXO

A/N: I hope everyone reading enjoyed the chapter! I put a lot of work into it. I really appreciated all the beautifully detailed and incredibly kind reviews I received for the last one. I am always surprised there are still people here reading, and it is really rewarding when you guys let me know. I also love hearing about what different elements, characters, plots you're enjoying. Just thank you all around, honestly!