I don't own Gossip Girl. Hope you enjoy my take on GG/Tudors.

2nd January, 1519

"Blair?" Queen Claude of France said persistently, trying to make her younger sister understand their situation. "Are you listening to me?"

Blair turned around and faced her sister. "I'm not marrying him," she said firmly, folding her arms across her chest.

"The English royals have perfectly respectable lineage, if that is the problem." Claude seemed to struggle with this sentence, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.

"Sister, you hate the English," Blair replied pointedly, raising an eyebrow. "Why on earth would you want me to marry their crowned prince?"

"Francis wills it," Claude said guility, predicting her sister's anger.

Blair raised an eyebrow. "I shall not marry him, sister. You were forced into marriage by our father and look now! A pregnant belly and an infant son by a man who is too free with his morals," Blair sneered at her older sister, Queen Claude of France. "He has a whore in every manor in the country. How do you bear it? How can you let him come to your bed knowing that he could have had carnal knowledge of any maiden in the court? On my honour, I would not allow it!"

Claude glared at her sister. "It is not your choice. You will go where Francis bids you. My marriage is not your concern."

"Sister," Blair said softly, "You are my concern. I see the pain in your heart and the sorrow in your eyes when he shows favour to his whores. He is the devil incarnate!"

"For shame, Blair!" Claude cried. "He is my husband! It is his right as a King to take a mistress."

"He has no Kingly rights at all, for he is only King because of your marriage to him! You could rule in your own right, had you only the will!" Blair argued, folding her arms and staring angrily out of her chamber window.

Claude crossed her heart. "Blair, hear me. He is my husband. It is my duty to love and serve him. If he were a farmer and I a peasant I would love him still. I am glad to have him beside me."

"But he is not beside you," Blair murmured. "You follow his orders like a puppy does its master's. I will not be commanded by him, Claude."

"Blair, you are seventeen years old. Francis is your guardian. Your choice in the matter is irrelevant. You will do as you are bid," Claude repeated, vigour entering her voice. "As Queen of France, it is my will that you marry Charles, Prince of England."

Blair threw her hands up into the air. "Then when you have a daughter, name her Blair and sell her soul, rather than mine! I shall not marry him! Even Francis is a gentleman in comparison to him."

"You will do as you are bid."

"Francis I, King of France!" one of the guards at the entrance to Blair's chamber cried, and Blair and Claude curtsied for their King.

Francis spied them and grinned. "Ah, my two favourite ladies!"

Blair looked at him pitifully. "Dear brother."

"Husband," Claude purred, her dark eyes looking up at him from under her lashes. "I was informing Blair of our English plans for her."

"And I was informing my darling sister that I shall not be pushed into marrying Charles, prince or not!"

Francis' face flushed. "Blair..."

"The Prince of Wales has no morals," Blair said flatly. "He beds whores on a daily basis."

"I care not for his morals, Blair."

"Then what?" Blair said, her eyes flashing. "You would have me marry a man I did not love?"

"Love has nothing to do with it," Francis snapped. "Do you think I married your sister for love? It was her dowry, not her heart that made my father consider her."

"What a romantic you are, Husband," Claude muttered wryly, rolling her eyes in an effort to mask the hurt she felt.

"Non, my sweet Claude. I simply meant that I grew to love you. As young Blair here will her new husband." Francis and Blair stared at eachother, anger and contempt in her eyes and amusement in his. Blair knew she couldn't win. And so she dropped her eyes and sighed.

"Very well," she said softly.

4th January 1519

Charles, Prince of Wales, glared at his father as angrily as he dared. "But, Father..."

"You will marry her, Charles. A French alliance is in our interests. And look at Francis now! Three years of marriage and already he has one son, and his Queen is again in pup! They are a fertile lot, and you need as many male heirs as a woman can produce."

"I shan't marry her, Father."

Bart's short patience had come to an end and the elder man's voice was shaking with frustration. "She is a young lady of seventeen, Charles, and you are a young man of twenty one. Your mother faced much pain bringing you into this world so that you could be the Prince of our country - do not defile her memory by refusing to do your duty, boy!"

"If you force me to marry her then I will refuse the crown!" Chuck said angrily. "Give it to Andrew! See if a mere boy of fifteen can rule the country! Or give it to Edward, or Phillip! I will not marry her."

"You will marry her," His father repeated coolly. "And you will be King - like it or not."

"I have heard rumours that she has black moles on her back and an extra finger on her left hand," Chuck said wildly. "She is a witch and bears marks of the devil! Surely you do not want your grandchildren to be marked by evil?"

King Bartholomew smirked at his sons protests. "If that is your only argument, she will be examined before the betrothal. Her portrait showed no such marks."

"I saw the same portrait, father. I like her not! I shall not marry her. They say she is a heretic and entertains men in her rooms at night!"

The King's face hardened. "Do not say such things about your future wife, Charles. I will not have it in my court." Chuck made to argue, but his father held up a hand to silence him. "She sails for England within a week. If you wish, she will be examined to see if she is intact – though someone with a reputation such as yours is in no position to preach about virtue."

To his credit, Chuck flushed. "Father, is there no English alternative? Perhaps a Duke's daughter? The Earl of Nottingham's daughter, Penelope-"

"No!" King Bart said suddenly. "You will marry the French princess. End of discussion, Charles."

15th January 1519

"Tighter," Blair breathed, gasping as her maid pulled the laces of her corset tightly around her torso. When she could breathe in no further, the laces were tied and her dress slipped over her head. "Don't fasten the outer laces so tightly," she mumured.

"Madam?" The maid said quietly, and Blair spun around to face her.

"Yes, Jennifer?" Blair twirled a lock of the girl's blonde hair around a finger, and then tucked it back behind her ear.

"Are you not... wary... of Prince Charles' reputation? With women, I mean..." The small girl was nervous and Blair smiled at her.

"My sweet Jenny. You need not worry about me. I shall be wed to him for a year at most, and if all is well, the marriage shall be annulled and I shall return to France a virgin. He will not have me. Not if I can help it."

Jenny gasped. "But, Madam, surely it is your duty as a wife to-"

Blair's sharp glare cut the girl off. "Come, Jennifer. We sail for England within the hour." She said this distastefully with a wrinkle in her nose, as if the thought of England had the same effect as that of a bad smell under the nostrils.

There was a soft knock on the door, and a breathtaking smile broke out from Blair's red lips. "Louis!" She dismissed her maid and beckoned her to close the door after she had left the room. As the door closed, Louis took Blair's face between his hands and placed a passionate kiss on her lips.

"I came as soon as I heard, my love," he whispered against her lips.

A warm, treacherous tear slid down Blair's cheek. "They mean to wed me to an English prince. I fear that I must go. My will does not matter."

Louis sighed and Blair pressed her face against his neck. "My sweet Blair..."

Blair tilted her face up and feverishly pressed her lips to his, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Louis' hands fell to the laces on the back of Blair's dress and she made no move to stop him. "He cannot have it," she mumbled against his skin, "He will not have it."

Louis lifted Blair's skirts and moved her so she was straddling his lap.

"Do it," she whispered, "Please."

The man looked at her, deep in the eyes. "Do you really want this?"

"I don't know," Blair said softly. "I will not sacrifice my innocence to a man who is as sinful as he. I give this gift to you."

"I cannot recieve something that is given out of spite," Louis said sadly, placing a final kiss on her cheek before moving her from his lap. He stood and adjusted himself. "I care for you, my Lady, much more than my rank allows me to. I love you, Blair. Say that you love me too and I shall do as you ask."

Blair struggled to her feet and straightened her dress. She looked at him, her expression hard to read. "I cannot give you what you seek, Sir Louis. You have a wife, and four children. I am to be wed in another country. I cannot give you my love, Sir Louis."

Louis glared at her, forgetting his place. "I do not think you are capable of love," he said cruelly. "You have teased me for months, dangled your virtue before my eyes and now you claim that you feel nothing for me!"

"Know your place, knight," Blair said stonily, her voice sharp and cutting. "Get out. Get out now."

"As you wish, your Highness." Louis bobbed a shallow bow and frowned, then left her alone in her chamber.

27th January 1519

"He wishes me to marry, Nathaniel. Me. He wishes me to be a husband. Have you ever heard something so ludicrous?" Chuck lounged on a blanket on the ground wrapped in thick furs under a tree in the grounds of Richmond Place, the castle standing dark and majestic against the bright January afternoon.

Nathaniel smirked. "I don't think I've ever known you to be faithful to a mistress, Chuck. Why your father thinks that you are capable of being loyal to a wife, I do not know."

"Look at her!" Lord Carter said admiringly. "Look at how she handles herself!"

Chuck glanced over to where Carter was pointing and shrugged, his expression hardening. "They are her new ladies. Blast that woman!"

"It's not all bad, Chuck." A small voice spoke up from behind the tree.

It belonged to Chuck's thirteen year old half-sister, Princess Serena. After his mother had died during the birthing of his younger brother, King Bart had married his maîtresse-en-titre, the Dowager Duchess of Cornwall. Serena had been the first product of their marriage, and whilst her mother, Lillian, had not been made Queen, she was referred to as 'Majesty' out of curtesy.

Bart's marriage to Lillian had been a fortuitous union: a daughter after year of marriage (Serena) now thirteen, then another son (Henry) who had died before his first birthday from measles, twin girls (Anne and Jane) two years later, now four, another son (Edward) a year later, who was now three, and then the arrival of baby Phillip just over a year ago. (It was rumoured that Lily was again pregnant, her youth and Bart's vitality for life apparently making a potent genetical mix).

All the males under the tree, save Chuck and his younger brother Andrew, the Duke of York, turned to gaze at the beautiful Serena. "Hello," she said shyly, blushing as she sat down in between her two half brothers.

Chuck sighed. "How is it not 'all bad', sister? Pray tell."

"I get another sister," Serena replied with a happy smile. "It's so boring having only brothers."

"Princess Anne and Princess Jane are in the nursery," Chuck said bemusedly, raising an eyebrow."You have two sisters - what need have you of another?"

"Annie and Jane are too young. I can't talk to them about pretty clothes or dancing. I can't wait for Princess Blair to marry you!"

"I can understand that," Prince Andrew spoke up. "It's not like you or I would talk to Edward or Phillip about cards or jousting, Chuck."

Chuck grunted in reply, and Nathaniel grinned. "It seems that your brother has lost his tongue, your Highness," he said to Serena.

"Say, Serena?" Carter asked bashfully, avoiding the eyes of the princess. "That lady, over there? Do you know her name?"

"Her name is Georgina, Carter," Serena replied with a wry smile. A sound of trumpets make Serena leap to her feet as fast as a lamb in springtime. "Come, my dear brothers. Blair's ship has made port and our parents summon us to greet her!"

Well? What d'you think? My first attempt at any kind of historical fanfiction. Reviews would be loved, thank you!