Sorry it took me so long to update, but as you all know, life happens. I hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: Above all, Blair hated Chuck Bass. By sleeping with Jenny, he finally broke her. Yet she had somehow survived the fallout. And now that she was queen of Manhattan, she would break him.

Disclaimer: Alas, I don't own Gossip Girl. If I did, I would have found a way to keep Blair and Chuck together without turning them into a giant yawn-fest.

He lounged on the bed, eyes closed, head cocked to the side, fangs gleaming jauntily in the moonlight. He let out a bored sigh and continued his manufactured speech.

"The trials will begin tomorrow," he said. "You will each have one week to tie up all the loose ends of your pathetically tragic former lives."

He turned to girl nearest to him, who sat up on her knees like a little lapdog.

"Use your creativity," he said. "Remind me why I chose you, why I made you eternally young and infinitely powerful."

The girls all nodded emphatically while Blair rolled her eyes. They were just like the sycophants who had followed her around Constance-Billiard and NYU. None of them deserved to be queen of the Jersey Shore, let alone the majestic island of Manhattan.

"I'm sure it goes without saying that there are no rules. But ladies, please show a little modicum of care. Have a little discretion. You want to get gruesome, by all means, go wild. But just make sure to make it look like suicide or to frame the right person when you're done. After all, if the cops start locking down the city, it just makes it harder for all of us to eat."

"Prove to me why you should be my queen," he whispered, his final words sending the phantom touch of a lover ghosting along their spines. The way the girls' eyes rolled back in pleasure, Blair half-expected their heads (or nether regions) to set ablaze. But she had to admit she felt her back tingle as well, which only served to incense her. Primarily because it reminded her of Chuck and his (former) power over her body.

Interesting ability, she thought. I wonder if we all have one.

A voice permeated her mind. Not everyone does. But it seems as though you're special…

Blair gaped at her maker for half a second, which may as well have been an eternity in their time, before regaining her composure.

Of course I am, she shot back at him with a self-satisfied smirk. Did you really think any of these skanks would be competition? I ruled Manhattan as a human. Why should that change now?

Her maker's eyes probed her until she was forced to lower her haughty gaze. After a long moment, he finally answered her.

You may fail because you still love him. You may not have what it takes to destroy him, utterly and completely. If you can tear your love asunder like that, you will deserve to be my queen.

Blair's eyes flared with a bloodlust that always came about when she was issued a direct challenge.

You may as well drop by Cartier tomorrow to commission a tiara, she thought, shooting him a dazzling smile.

Blair was not like "normal" vampires. While she was nocturnal, as all vampires are, she did not sleep during the day and hunt at night; in fact, she did not sleep at all, which her maker claimed was very unusual for a newborn. Nor did she lurk in the shadows, stalking her prey; she strutted down Fifth Avenue as though she already owned it. She did not have the sickly pallor of a newborn either; rather, she gave off a slight, ethereal glow as the moon's beams kissed her skin.

Her maker noticed that Blair was not the fastest hunter, nor by any means, the strongest. But what she lacked in speed and power, she made up for in guile. Watching her hunt was truly a thing of beauty and intrigue. For her first kill she played the virginal schoolgirl to a lewd businessman who bore eerily similar traits to her former beloved. She struggled against the fool's advances as he pressed her into a dingy alley wall; she had quite the flair for theatrics. The moment he gave her a sinister smirk, her eyes flashed crimson and she sunk her delicate fangs into his strong neck. As she drained him, she intimately pressed against her victim, slowly gyrating against him, before she glanced at her maker with an unmistakable glint in her eyes. He could smell her arousal, and he could not wait to sample it for himself.

But that would have to wait.

Her second kill was a blonde waif of a girl she found at 1Oak. This time Blair played the savior, snatching the clearly underage girl away from a lecherous stockbroker as he tried to ply her with more Dom. She pulled the girl into a dark corner and with wide, innocent eyes, asked if she was all right. She then cautioned the girl to watch out for unscrupulous men who would spike drinks, as the stockbroker had done. The poor child gaped in shock. And as a final warning, Blair cautioned the girl to be on the lookout for supposed friends who would stab her in the back. The girl thanked her for all her help and turned to leave.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Blair said with a smile, before lunging at the retreating girl and biting into the nape of her neck.

Her meals were always the same. Suave, brown-haired men with sharp jaws and lithe adolescent blondes with shifty eyes. And her maker could see the images of the two people she was actually thinking of as she practiced and practiced for her moments of revenge.

One night, Blair did not return to the Waldorf-Astoria (how fitting it was that that was where his lair was located), and her maker knew she was out there, somewhere, finally exacting her revenge with a sickening precision.

The only question that remained was who had she chosen first?

I'm still hoping for more input on who Blair's maker should be. Please add your suggestions in the comments section. And of course, reviews = hugs and kisses.