Childhood is a promise that is never kept.

~Ken Hill~

Seven year old Blair Waldorf skipped along the hallway of her parents Upper East Side penthouse, a smile on her pretty face. Dimples were visible in her slightly chubby cheeks, a sure sign that she was truly happy and not just pretending to be.

Her smile widened when she saw her beloved Father sitting at the table. His eyes lit up when he saw his daughter running toward him.

"Good morning Princess, did you sleep well?" He asked as she sat down opposite him. The second she was seated, Dorota the maid was rushing to her side, ready to fill the little girl's plate with whatever she desired.

"Yes thank you Daddy." Her smile was enough to light up the whole of New York City.

"Would you like a glass of pomegranate juice, Miss Blair?" Dorota asked, and Blair nodded.

For a few seconds there was silence, besides the gentle humming of Harold Waldorf.

"Daddy," Blair spoke up, suddenly realising something. "Why are you here?"

It hadn't occurred to her yet that morning that her Father had not been in the penthouse she shared with her Mother last night. In fact, she barely saw him anymore.

"Eleanor had some errands to run in Europe, so I came home. I would never dream of leaving my Blair Bear home alone!"

Dorota smiled as she filled Blair's china plate with croissants and jam. It was nice to see the young girl receive some affection- hell, she barely received a smile from her Mother!

"I would have looked after Miss Blair," Dorota said as she watched Blair nibble daintily at her breakfast. Blair often found it odd how bold her favourite maid was around Harold, when she barely acknowledged Eleanor.

"I know, and I trust you Dorota. You've probably spent more time with my daughter than her own Mother!" Harold shook his head in disgust as he sipped his coffee. "Anyway, enough with the chit chat! Sit down Dorota, there is plenty of food here for all of us!"

His actions made both Blair- who was far from easy to please- and Dorota smile warmly.

It seemed as though all too soon the delicious breakfast was over, and it was time for Blair to get ready for school. Sighing heavily, she slipped down from her chair.

"Where are you going?" Her Father called after her.

"To get dressed for school, you silly Daddy!" she trilled.

Harold chuckled and stood up. "How about a day off? We could do whatever you wanted- go to the park, maybe visit the Met, or we could go shopping?"

Blair's eyes lit up at the thought of spending a full day with her Father. "I'd love to!"

She rushed forward and hugged Harold, causing him to laugh and ruffle her dark hair. A little while later, when Blair was dressed in her favourite red dress (the one with the matching hair band) she and Father set off on their day on adventure.

As they got settled in the back of their limousine, Harold asked Blair where she would like to go first, to which se promptly replied "Barneys!"

Even at the young age of seven, Blair adored anything to do with shopping. Maybe it came from having a Mother so heavily involved in the fashion world, or the fact that Harold always made sure his daughter wore only the best clothes in all of New York.

Twenty minutes later, Blair was running through the children's section of the most famous shop in New York, throwing countless outfits into the shop assistant's arms. Harold simply helped her along the way, pointing out coats and boot to match the dresses. That was one of the wonderful things about Blair's Father- he was never too busy to spend time with his only daughter; as far as he was concerned she was the most important thing in the whole world. And that was exactly how Blair liked it.

After three hours of playing dress up the Waldorf's left Barneys, laden with bags upon bags of beautifully designed clothing. Harold and Blair were the picture or happiness, of perfection. Onlookers smiled as they walked past, it was very rare in New York that the richest men were seen out frolicking with their children. However, it was a welcome change amongst the city.

"So Blair bear, ready for lunch?" Harold asked his daughter as they settled into their car.

Blair didn't even need to open her mouth; her stomach growled loudly, answering for her. Harold laughed and instructed the driver to take them to the Empire Hotel.

Blair rolled her eyes as soon as the words were out of her Father's mouth. It wasn't that she didn't the hotel- the décor was tasteful, the food was delicious, and the staff were of the highest standards- she just had a strong dislike towards the owner's son.

His name was Charles Bass, and since his family- like Blair's- were one of the richest in the Upper East Side, he and Blair had been forced to spend a lot of time together throughout their childhood. He was handsome, and even at the tender age of seven (and a half, he reminded people constantly,) he certainly knew how to charm people around him.

Blair's best friend Serena- Van der Woodsen, daughter of Lily, Eleanor's closest acquaintance- once told Blair that she and Chuck were very alike. Blair had been furious that her friend had compared her to that spoilt, manipulative boy. It seemed to not just Serena and their friend Nate Archibald, but their parents too, that Blair and Chuck were a perfect match in life.

"Your usual table, sir?" the waiter of the Empire Restaurant asked Harold as he and Blair stepped through the doors.

Harold nodded and they were seated at a quiet table in the corner, right beside the window. As always, Blair paid more attention to the people around her than to the menu. It was an awful habit, she knew, but it was one she could not break. To her, image was everything. She blamed her Mother for that believe entirely.

"What are you having sir?" the waiter whom had seated them was back.

"I'll have the soup of the day with a glass of cold Pinot Grigio thank you. Blair?"

"I would like the scallops please," Blair replied confidently, her dark head held high.

The waiter nodded, eyes wide as how polite the young girl was.

"Princess, I must go and take this call. I won't be long, I'll be back before lunch is served." Harold said whilst his phone vibrated angrily in his pocket.

Blair nodded and fiddled with her napkin absentmindedly as her father went outside. The waiter came back shortly after, and placed a tall glass of cloudy lemonade in front of her. Blair frowned.

"I didn't order this," she explained as she pushed it away.

"Charles asked me to send it over," he replied simply.

Blair kept the frown on her face. "As in, Charles Bass?" It was a silly question; Chuck Bass didn't have a kind bone in his body. Besides, why on earth would he send a glass of lemonade to Blair's table? It was absurd.

"Yes, Miss. Enjoy your drink."

Then Blair was alone again, staring at the glass in front of her with wonder. She couldn't quite figure out why Chuck had sent her a drink. Blair wondered what he was scheming about now. A little voice in the back of her head- and her heart- told her he was just being friendly, like a gentleman should. But that was drowned out by a much louder voice telling her he was planning something. She wasn't too sure what to think.

"Hello Waldorf."

Blair raised her head and looked up. A little boy in a pair of tailored trousers and a navy shirt was sat opposite her.

"What do you want Bass?"

Chuck raised a perfect dark eyebrow at her. "What do you mean?"

Blair sighed and gestured to the drink. "First bringing me this, now sitting with me? What's going on?"

Hurt flickered across Chuck's eyes, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared, back to the cool dark gaze she knew so well.

"What makes you think that there's something going on? Maybe I'm just being a good friend!"

He looked down at the white linen covering the table when Blair arched her eyebrows. "Sure Chuck, because that's what your famous for in school isn't it? Being nice."

Chuck pushed his chair back angrily. "Fine then, I'll leave you to sit here on your own!"

Blair watched him run away, and felt a tug at her heart. It was an odd feeling, that swam down from her chest to the pit of her stomach. She had never felt it before… could it possibly be guilt?

Blair shook her head, her curls fluttering. She stood up, straightening her hair band and marched purposefully across the restaurant.

"Excuse me," she called, her voice strong with the authority of a person much older than herself. The waiter whom had served her and her father turned to look at her.

"Is there a problem miss?"

She shook her head and smiled sweetly. "No, not at all. Could you please inform Harold Waldorf that his daughter has gone to see Charles? Thank you."

Before the waiter had a chance to reply, she was stalking across to the kitchen. She knew Chuck would be hiding somewhere, and she herself always hid in the pantry at home when her parents were fighting.

She strolled through the kitchens, head held high and chin stuck out in defiance. She neatly passed the chefs dressed in their white outfits, until she came to a large cupboard. She could definitely imagine Chuck hiding in there. The palms of her hands were against the hard wood, ready to push the door open when she heard his voice behind her.

"Waldorf? What are you doing here?"

Blair turned to look at him and smiled softly. "I came to…to…." she couldn't say it. Blair Waldorf never apologised. She smoothed her dress and smiled again. "I came to ask you to come to lunch with me and my daddy."

Chuck blinked. He couldn't imagine him sitting with Blair and Harold, an outsider in their perfect family portrait. It was because of that he shook his head. "No, but thank you anyway." No matter how much he disliked Blair, he always remembered that he was a Bass, and the Bass family pride themselves on their flawless manners.

Blair wouldn't give up easily; he should have realised that. "Why not?" Her tiny hands were on her hips, and her dark eyes were narrowed.

Chuck shrugged, feigning carelessness. "Things to do, people to see…that sort of thing." (It was a complete lie of course, but he wasn't about to tell Blair that.)

"That's the worst excuse ever. Stop sulking and come on!" She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. That was their first touch, other than hitting each other in anger or annoyance.

Chuck didn't pull against her grip, and Blair didn't let go. Together they exited the kitchen and- after ordering a club sandwich and a coke for Chuck- sat beside each other at the table.

Chuck decided as they chattered happily- without arguing once- that Blair Waldorf wasn't as bad as he had previously thought. In fact, she was pretty cool.

For a girl.