Blair wiped a tear from her eye as the elevator arrived at the top floor of Charlie's Place. At least she was in private now. Hurriedly, she looked around for the bathroom so she could fix her makeup and wallow in self-pity for a little while. She needed a little time away from her fiancé. The fight she'd had with Louis to attend the gala opening of Chuck's new hotel had been astronomical. And unnecessary. Louis had her. The remaining piece of friendship with the great love of her life was hard enough to get used to as it was, why did Louis have to make it so difficult?

"Chuck?" she called, knowing he hadn't been downstairs in the ballroom.

She peered around curiously. His penthouse wasn't what she'd expected at all. Light, tasteful, plush. Unable to resist her curiosity she started wandering, sticking her head into various rooms. Most were unfinished with drop sheets and paint buckets abundant. There were definitely more than two bedrooms, at least five if you didn't include the room lined with shelves (clearly intended to be a library) or the one with a desk and view of the river (already being used as his office).

"Kinda big for you and Nate," she judged.

There was one final set of doors at the end of the hall – clearly the master suite. Her snooping overruled any sense of propriety as she gripped the handles of the double doors, pushing them open.

"Chuck?" she called softly, as if she were looking for him.

When she clearly wasn't loud enough to be heard more than ten feet away and what she was actually doing making sure the coast was clear. He didn't make a peep in response so she pushed the doors open and stepped in side.

The room didn't disappoint. It was modern but luxurious – full comforters covered the bed and a tasteful sofa sat at its foot. Through another set of open doors to one side she spied exquisite hand carved furniture. Her eyes widened when she crept in to see a dressing room almost rivalling the size of the bedroom. A chaise lounge stretched beneath the window, a woman's dressing table opposite, gorgeous but bare. Waiting for someone who hadn't moved in yet. Blair's eyes darted to the opposite side of the room. Chuck's chest of drawers was clearly being used, cufflinks and coins were strewn haphazardly over the top. She made her way over to it, finding the bracelet she'd given him the first month they were going out in a perfect coil beneath the mirror. A few other trinkets were scattered here and there.

She opened a drawer to check if he was actually living here and found his clothes neatly arranged. Pulling the door to one of the closets that lined the room she discovered rows of neatly pressed shirts.

"Well you've definitely moved in," Blair deduced as, upon opening the next door, she found rows and rows of his polished shoes lined floor to ceiling on shelves.

Would it be wrong to admit she was envious?

She looked inside each cupboard, just to be thorough. And because she was a sneaky know-it-all. One side of the sumptuous room was full, lived in. All his clothes were neatly arranged. But the cupboards on the other side of the room were lonely companions – empty and bare. Not a single tie, coat, not even a hanger.

She pulled the richly-furnished chair back from the feminine dressing table and carefully sat down. Her long blue ball gown fell in waves around her as she peered into the mirror. It wasn't all bad. Her tears had dried and mascara hadn't run. Instead her eyes were brighter than they had been in months. Excitement that had been missing from her life for more than a year now was sparkling irrepressibly.

Pleased with her own reflection she glanced over her shoulder, noticing how the mirror on Chuck's chest of drawers was positioned to catch this one exactly. A small, real smile graced her face as she imagined lost possibilities.

His partner would sit here, in the mornings, and brush her hair or put on her jewellery. Behind her Chuck would do the same, fix his hair and put on his watch. And all the time they could look at each other, share secret smiles, across their dressing room.

The fantasy caught her heart more than Louis had since the summer. Her hands ran over the French-polished top of the lady's commode, careful not to let her engagement ring scratch the finish.

It was perfect. She fingered the brass drawer handles beneath the top and drew on the far right knob instinctively. In her own dresser, her most precious jewellery lay here.

Something rfattled inside the wooden drawer and she looked down, momentarily confused. There was something here – a single black box hidden away from the world. She lifted her eyebrow and glanced around. Well a peak wouldn't hurt – after all this clearly came with the dresser, nothing else was even stored on this side of the room.

She plucked the box out in her dainty fingertips and opened it with an air of excited schoolgirl mystery. Her fingers froze as soon as the box fell open, two halves falling away just like Louis's had. Except the citrine diamond that now graced her left finger vastly outsized this one. As a defence, her mind happily began listing this new ring's deficiencies when compared to her prince's gift. But her heart wouldn't let her get away with that blissful ignorance.

This was Chuck's penthouse. Chuck's dressing room. He didn't have anyone in his life. And she'd seen this ring at Harry Winston in Paris. Had almost seen it when Dan Humphrey punched his lights out, and again before her engagement party.

She felt sick as she clutched the engagement ring Chuck had never given her in her frozen palm. Why did he bring it with him? Here? And more importantly – why hadn't he returned it?

She hurriedly closed the box back up and dropped it back into its drawer, shoving the thing shut. Her attempt to remove it from her mind wasn't so simple. Her stomach roiled at the thought that Chuck was free of her months ago and yet he did this to himself.

Would he spend his whole life like this? Just waiting for her? For a fairytale they'd never get to make?

"I have to get out of here," she pushed back from the dressing table mine and stumbled towards the door.

Meaning to head back to the master bedroom she stumbled through a third set of doors, only to stop dead. This wasn't the decadent bedroom. The walls weren't wallpapered like a King's palace. They were painted in a very delicate shade of lilac. Blair stopped in place, trying to comprehend. There was nothing particularly innocuous about the room. The trim was painted a warm cream and light flooded in from the gorgeous windows. She moved closer, trying to work out what was different about the windows only to realise they were completely unlike anything in the rest of the building. Real French doors with wooden trim and glass panes, opening out onto a completely enclosed courtyard lined with aged brick and filled with flowers.

She peered out, wondering why Chuck would put such a classic piece of architecture into his brand new hotel. Then she turned back to the door in her musing and almost threw up. Because of one single piece of furniture.

A rocking chair. With the children's book Eloise lying on top.

"Eloise," Chuck had once told her, "is me and you in a single person. She's a perfect princess who always gets her way – that's you," he made explicit. "And she grows up in a hotel without any adult supervision."

"That's you," Blair had whispered to him at the time.

She'd been post-coitally sleepy and not really coherent enough to hold a conversation.

"When we –" he'd started to say something but she hadn't heard the rest of that sentence. She was pretty sure he'd stopped himself though, because a moment later he'd simply stated "It's a children's story. I'd like to read it again someday, I think you and me in a single person might enjoy it."

Blair's knees weakened even as she braced herself against the wall. And slowly slid down it. Staring at the rocker.

Which could only ever belong in a nursery.

"For a baby."

The plush white carpet was surprisingly soft as the tulle of her dress fell beside her in defeat.

Chuck was an enigma to most people, even his best-friend. But not to her. She could look at him and tell what he was feeling without any words said between them. And this room was a dream he would never dare to share with anyone, even her. It was beautiful, innocent, and spoke of hope he pretended not to have.

She looked out the romantic glass doors to the terrace garden. She needed air. Leaning over enough her hand just grasped the handle enough to release the lock and the glass door swung back. It took a moment but a very gentle breeze slowly carried a garden of delicate scents into the baby's room. She closed her eyes and inhaled, unprepared for the emotion to flood over her like a rising tide she couldn't hope to fight against. It smelled wonderful.

Overtaken by something she clambered back to her feet and stalked to the dressing room. Now noticing how the nursery was a mere step away from the big empty bed. Only if you intended to get up in the middle of the night and tend your infant offspring would you need to be that close. And there were no nanny's quarters nearby.

Her heart clenched at what she was seeing. Chuck's overcoat lay tossed over the bed. He lived here, was home sometime this afternoon. He slept in that bed. He dressed in that dressing room. And behind the doors a few feet away lay an untouched baby's room.

She thought she knew all Chuck's secrets. She was very very wrong.

Anxious, she stumbled to the antique dresser, this time catching a marking engraved in gold leaf beneath the flawless lacquer. A pair of letters she had never dared to scratch in her notebooks at school. BB. Blair Bass. She closed her eyes to it and yanked open the drawer again, refusing to take in her surroundings.

She snatched the ring box out and stalked back to the nursery, sinking into the centre of the floor. Once settled she opened the ring box up, gasping as she caught sight of it. Then she carefully placed it on the floor, open and waiting. It caught the last dying rays of light that shone through the open door. Casting hundreds of colourful rainbows around the perfect little garden room.

Then she took off her engagement ring and lay it alongside, comparing. Both from Harry Winston, implying impeccable breeding. One ostentatious yellow and one classic diamond. One given to her from a pure heart open with love, one bought in a desperate attempt to escape his sins. One worn proudly on her finger while she and her wealth were paraded around town. One tucked away in an opulent dressing room she didn't know existed. Hidden on the path to a nursery he had built but locked away, too scared to admit how badly he wanted it.

She looked outside again, at the garden beds. She had been running a household since she was fourteen and even in a penthouse she knew gardens didn't spring up from neglect – they needed tending. Constant watchfulness from a gardener. No one who grew up on the Upper East Side knew how to garden. Which meant he had staff to look after this tiny corner of the world, even though its sole benefactor didn't even exist yet.

But here it was, ready.

She was contemplating this when she heard a door opening and tinkering sounds. There was a silent beat before Chuck warily called out "Hello?"

"In here," Blair responded without thinking.

She could feel him behind her, his eyes on her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, the tears finally coming. "Your dressing room is waiting for someone to complete it. You have a – a nursery."

He didn't say a word, just closed his eyes, then sank to the floor beside her. He didn't touch her, didn't look at her. Just stared out the French doors to the courtyard garden and skirted the issue.

Clearing his throat he did the best he could – "You weren't supposed to see this."

"I'm getting married this year," she accused him.

As if the room was somehow a ploy to get her back. Neither of them said anything. Chuck had no way of justifying himself to her, so instead they just sat.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Blair was finally the one to speak up. "In four months I'll be his wife."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Chuck pull his knees up to his chest. The protective instinct kicked her deep in the gut. Like this place did.

"I – I can't stop hoping."

He turned, looked at her. Really looked at her, like he hadn't been allowed to in months.

"I'll die if I can't even wish for things anymore."

"I make you lonely?" she was softly crying now.

"You make me hope there's something more," he corrected, turning back to the courtyard. "More than comfort and good conversation. Parties and being seen and business. One day I want true happiness, and when it seems like its never coming – I have this room. And my half-finished dressing room. And an empty penthouse waiting to be filled."

He turned to look at her and caught sight of the similar rings sitting on the floor. His heart clenched, that hope he sometimes so desperately needed spiking through him in a sickening rush of adrenaline. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. She'd already chosen and happiness wasn't in his near future.

Unable to sit here any longer he climbed to his feet.

"I'll see you downstairs at the party," he allowed himself to breathe in the scent of her hair, kiss the crown of her head.

Only the once though.

Then he left her there alone with her similar rings and her conflicted heart.

Blair slipped into the elevator unnoticed and pressed the penthouse button, swiping the stolen room card over the reader. The doors closed and the car started ascending. She'd begged Nate to take Chuck out for a few hours, distract him. Tomorrow her private jet would fly her to Monaco and two weeks from now she would be a princess. She snorted, disbelief that Anne Archibald's rejection of her because she was Chuck Bass's girlfriend once stopped her from fixing the most intimate relationship she'd ever experienced.

If Chuck Bass cast a shadow she struggled to appear from, then Louis Grimaldi was a solar eclipse. Her last name would never be spoken again. But she would give up herself, because she loved him.

It was more than she had done for Chuck. And Chuck had done much more for her.

She purposefully shook herself.

"Stop it," she reprimanded.

She was going to be Louis's wife. She was going to be happy. She just needed one more glance at what she was foregoing. She was sure a second peep would convince her it wasn't as special as her memory would have her believe.

The elevator doors opened and she strode purposefully towards the master bedroom. The bed was made – housekeeping had been through – but it looked a little more lived in. A coloured scarf was secured to one of the bedposts. She rolled her eyes and hoped Chuck didn't have rope burns on his wrists – it was just so tacky when you didn't tie a man up properly.

She kept her pace, right through the open double doors to the dressing room. While she'd meant to go straight to the empty nursery something stopped her. A single cupboard was open on the empty side of the room. And in it hung a dress. A gorgeous dress. Definitely custom-made, she'd never seen anything like it. A deep burgundy red with layers of silk that cascaded to the floor.

She took a step towards it and caught movement in the corner of her eye. Whipping her head to the side she was relieved to find it was only her reflection. Then she noticed a huge floor to ceiling mirror had been purchased, gilt frame stark against the unblemished surrounds.

Almost as if it was cursed she turned back to the dress and cautiously reached for it. She knew couture, and Chuck's taste was impeccable. She couldn't help holding it up against her frame and slowly turning to the big mirror. Studying herself in wonder. Her cheeks heated, embarrassed but unable to stop herself as she stripped from her clothes down to a slip and then carefully stepped into the unworn creation.

It fit her like a glove. Irritating the sting inflicted two days previous when Louis presented her with a dress that wouldn't flatter any bust smaller than Serena's. She admired the nipped in waist and tasteful neckline. Glancing back to the hanger she reached for the final piece of the dress, eyeing it for a second in confusion. Only when she rearranged the shape did she see that it was actually a bow tie cut from the same swathe of cloth. Looking across the room in confusion at Chuck's dresser she caught sight of her cheeks pink with happiness, the sparkling excitement in her own eyes and quickly looked away. Tugging the zipper down so hastily it tore and throwing the dress over her dressing table.

The sickness she felt last time returned and her stomach plummeted.

When she looked in the mirror again all she saw was her imperfect body as she hurriedly tugged her dress back on. Breasts that didn't fill out her top and thighs with too much fat. She didn't look at herself after that. Instead she left the dress in its ruined heap and walked to the nursery.

The doors were closed this time but she didn't hesitate to open them. The trees in the courtyard outside were laced with thousands of tiny white fairylights, twinkling like a sky full of stars. Tears rushed to her eyes as they winked in and out as if they were fireflies.

"You can do this," she gave herself a pep talk, reaching for the wall switch. She flipped the only button, expecting a bright overhead light to turn on. Instead, two muted standing lamps came to life, additions since last time she'd been here, now standing sentry either side of the patio doors.

They were giant toy soldiers, each clasping a lamp post that miraculously illuminated to cast a soft glow over the unconceived baby's nursery.

Blair started at the sight of only-slightly-smaller-than-a-human sized figurines. Then her already weak heart practically melted. They were ridiculously whimsical but somehow so appropriate. She'd never seen anything like them, with tall hats and bright red uniforms they looked like they should be guarding Buckingham palace.

She looked behind the door and found the rocking chair still there, untouched. Thankfully she perched on it, admiring the perfect placement of the cushioned arms as she settled. It wasn't just beautiful, it was incredibly comfortable. She realised as she propped her elbows up that you were supposed to be holding a baby when you sat here.

She quickly stopped admiring the chair. Instead her eyes travelled over the room. It was no longer empty. Besides the tin soldiers, a bookshelf had also appeared. She could see Eloise poking out, but now a few friends had joined her. Angelina Ballerina. Clive loves Crocodiles. Goodnight Moon.

Most of the buttermilk-tinted shelves were empty, a good thing since that last title made her recoil.

Louis's baby cousin was being read it a few weeks ago, she'd seen it lying out in the living room. But the title was in French.

Bonsoir Lune.

As she looked at the book that would not grace the Grimaldi bookshelves, it occurred to her that even if she read her children these stories, they wouldn't truly understand. They could be bilingual but their native language would not be hers – they would grow up around and be taught in French.

No Goodnight Moon.

None of the books she could remember.

She didn't realise how much time had passed until a soft "Hey," from the doorway made her jump.

"Oh my god," she slammed her hand to her heart, trying to calm her racing chest. "You scared me."

"It's my apartment," he justified.

"I'm not allowed in here?" she snapped back.

Chuck paused. She had him there. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the doorway, slowly sinking to the floor.

"You can come anytime you like," he quietly conceded, dropping his head back to lean against the architrave.

Blair studied him while he was oblivious, letting her eyes run over the strong curve of his jaw. She'd already made her choice, and she gave him up. Chose someone else. But he was still so beautiful and tragic in his loveliness. Her heart ached to be with him again, to feel what she'd felt the night of the Bah Mitzvah. To feel what she'd felt sophomore year at Columbia when he'd decided to forsake his business success and choose her instead.

"I like the soldiers," she broke the silence. "They're a little male though. So sure there are no Miss Basses in your future?"

Chuck smiled but she felt like she wasn't seeing everything. Like there was something happening in his head that she didn't understand.

"Jack was here, again," he confessed. "Suffice to say, by the time he was done I felt like I needed a little protection. And there they were."

"I like them," Blair confessed, keeping her voice very quiet as if she didn't want to wake the non-existent owner of the room.

"Me too," Chuck's smile faded. He reached out to the bookshelf and handed her a colourful hard-back. "One of my nannies used to read me this."

Blair glanced down at the cover.

"The Magic Toyshop," she read. "I don't know it."

"It's stupid," he tried to hide his own weakness. "But the pages pop up and there are bits that turn and spin. I liked it."

"What's it about?" Blair asked, curious about this intimate piece of himself he was choosing to share now.

"A ballerina who is sold from the toy shop. She waits for her tin soldier to come after her. But he gets lost, and before he can touch her again daylight comes, taking away his magic. He's crushed in the street and destroyed."

She had opened to the first page of the story and was fingering the small ballerina doll when his words reached her. Her eyes shot up to him, filling with tears.

Chuck's smile almost looked like he was the one with no magic. Lacklustre and sad.

"He'd rather be lost in the snow, than live safely in the Toyshop knowing they'd never be together again."

He climbed to his feet and walked over to the giant toy soldiers. Blair watched in wondered fascination as he reached for something she hadn't seen before. A windup porcelain ballerina sat in the open palm of one of the soldiers. Entranced she rose to her feet and moved to his side as he turned the key a handful of times then set the ballerina back in her tin soldier's hand.

The delicate porcelain figurine began turning in place, a soft musical tune accompanying her.

"It turns out even from the snowy street he can see her dancing. And that's enough for him."

They both watched the Ballerina turn silently, neither daring to look away until her song had crawled to a stop. Then they simultaneously turned, eyes equally glassy. Chuck took a single breath. Reached up and kissed her forehead. Then said a soft, heartfelt "Goodnight Blair," and disappeared.

When she left the penthouse a few minutes later she didn't see him anywhere. But she did note that the long red dress had been rehung in the closet.

"Blair!" Eleanor's voice barked out of the phone. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Relax mother. I forgot something in New York. I'll be back by tomorrow morning. Tell everyone not to miss me."

Before another reprimanding word could come out she hit the end button and finished the call. Then quickly checked Gossip Girl again. Chuck hadn't been seen since he boarded a flight to Belize a week ago. No doubt trying to lose himself while she married someone else – no one could blame him for that.

However since the wedding was still twenty-four hours away she had just enough time to sneak into his penthouse and leave her precious gift. It was mid-morning and the lobby was busy enough that no covert ops were required to get into the elevator. She simply climbed in like any other guest, hit the button for his floor, swiped her appropriated card and disappeared.

The penthouse was silent, thank god. She took in all the tiny details of his life as she made her way through it. Neat stacks of paperwork, tidy rows of glassware, full bottles of hard liquor. There were things missing though, things he'd had at the Empire that hadn't been moved. There were no photographs anymore. No famous baseballs or trophy scarves. The things he loved weren't here, or at least they weren't out.

She noticed her favourite Renoir hung in the hallway, on the path to his room. She hoped he didn't think of her every time he brought a woman to his bed. Though she knew in her heart that hanging the painting there would serve to torture him a little more every time he did so.

The bedroom was messy which she found odd. Housekeeping had been banished perhaps?

In the dressing room a black jewellery box sat in the centre of her dressing table, stark against the highly polished surface. A little curious she placed her own carefully wrapped package down and lifted the lid on the box. It was empty. That was a surprise.

Confused, she looked in the drawers of the dresser, turned the box upside down, but nothing. Where was the necklace that obviously went in it?

Shaking off her curiosity she closed the box back up and replaced it, retrieving her own delicate contribution to the nursery. Thinking she was alone she purposefully made her way to the lilac room. Only to enter and find that the courtyard doors were flung wide open and the warm morning sunshine was pouring in.

"Chuck," she was startled.

He was lying out there, flat on his back and staring towards the sky. He looked awful. Unshaven, tired; his clothes were crushed and his usually implacable hair was wild and untamed. But worst of all he looked devastated.

Until he set eyes on her.

"Blair?" he whispered disbelievingly.

He stood quickly but didn't dare walk inside, as if he were going to break the fragile illusion.

"You're supposed to be in –"

"Monaco, I know," she finished for him. "I have Louis's jet ready to go and I'll be back there late tonight. Ready to marry my prince!" she sounded abnormally chipper. Then she stumbled and the façade fell. "You're supposed to be in Belize."

"I wanted to be left alone, without the mothering and 'Are you ok' phone calls every half an hour. So I let them think I'd left the city."

He eyed her warily as she stepped out into the courtyard. Trying to stop his already broken heart falling into more pieces as strands of her hair caught the sunlight and turned golden.

"If you're heading back to Monaco then why are you here?"

Blair's eyes dropped to her hands and the fragile package she was holding.

"I have something. For the –"

she couldn't bring herself to say the sacred word. After a pause she twisted her head and looked back through the doorway to indicate what she meant. She turned back to him and removed the tissue wrapped object from its box. Chuck looked at her hands curiously as she looped a piece of wire around her finger and gently lifted. A wood and glass mobile emerged, odd shapes twisted together. He looked closer and realised the delicate shards weren't glass but diamonds, rubies and sapphires.

"It's a carousel," Blair explained, teasing the pieces with her fingers.

They slowly untangled, revealing seven different animal shapes each smaller than a fist and carved perfectly in a light coloured wood. In the middle of each animal was a hollow centre, with a precious gem suspended to catch the light. It was captivating, precious, and utterly unique. He was utterly flabbergasted.

"I thought it could hang by the window to catch the light," Blair hopefully revealed, stepping back into the room.

"No," he stopped her, catching her wrist.

Blair turned back, clearly not expecting this reaction. He gently lifted the delicate mobile from her hand. His eyes closed, praying for strength. Then he opened them to meet her beautifully questioning gaze.

"You're only allowed to bring one precious thing into this room."

Blair's eyes widened.

"And it's not something you can buy," he dictated. Trying to steady his voice.

Blair blinked rapidly. This was coming to a head, she knew it would but she hadn't expected to deal with it today. He was supposed to be gone. Instead she had a brief flash of herself, walking into this sun-drenched room for the first time with a very tiny bundle in her arms. Chuck anxiously at her side.

Like a true Waldorf she tried to skirt the issue.

"This has been in my family for five generations," she informed him, thereby negating the 'no buying' condition.

"What I'm looking for has been in your family longer than five generations," he whispered in her ear.

While he walked past her, back into the room. Then out. For a moment she stood there stunned, trying to understand what had just happened.

"Hey!" she indignantly called after him.

He wasn't in the dressing room but quickly reappeared with something in his other hand. She was fascinated as he held out to her the top of the mobile and a small hook. She took both then squealed unexpectedly when he grasped her waist.

"There's a screw jutting out just above the door frame," was the only explanation she got before he clasped her waist tight and lifted her up into the air.

Blair quickly affixed the hook to the screw that was indeed just out of sight. Then she secured the animal mobile so that it dangled in the doorway of the nursery. Not saying aloud what Chuck had already guessed, that the collection of animals had graced her own bedroom when she was little.

As soon as it was latched on Chuck's arms lowered and her feet touched the floor again. For a moment his hands stayed where they were. Fascinated by them, she reached up and gently gave the moose a push, watching as the animals silently began to drift in a wobbly circle.

"I love these," she smiled, watching the light catch the coloured gemstones. "Daddy always called this one the Blair Bear," she touched a bear with a ruby at its heart.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed against her back, not making a sound. Finally his forehead touched her shoulder and he admitted in a quiet whisper "It hurts."

She could only suck in a deep breath, reach back and twine her fingers in his hair.

"I know. For me too," she confessed.

She caressed the back of his neck for a long time. The animals were occasionally caught in a breeze and would change direction, but there was nothing Blair or Chuck would do to change their own path. After half an hour Blair stepped forward, out of his embrace.

"I have to go," she told him.

He just walked passed her, back out into the courtyard, without saying a word. Blair nodded to herself. What else could she expect? Tomorrow was the day she broke his heart, and married someone other than her great love.

On the way out she caught sight of the empty jewellery box again and couldn't help but ask. Like a masochist she picked up the box and went back outside.

"What was in here?" she wanted to know.

"A necklace," he smiled, snorting in disbelief to himself. "It matches the red dress."

There was obviously a subtext she was missing here. She didn't get it.

"Where did it go?"

He rolled his eyes skywards.

"He gets to buy you Harry Winston now, not me."

It wasn't really an explanation. But it did cause a quick sudden stab in Blair's gut.

Without another word she rushed back in to her dressing table and dropped the necklace box, instead focusing on yanking open the right hand drawer. It stuck and refused to open – to which she anxiously pulled harder. The dread was rapidly building. When the brass handle finally gave and the drawer slid out, her eyes searched the dark interior frantically. It was empty. A desperate search with her hand confirmed the feeling in her cramping stomach.

Her ring was gone.

She closed her eyes, knowing she'd sealed her own fate. And devastated that she'd sealed his too. That he'd finally surrendered and his empty penthouse was waiting for inhabitants who might never join him.

She walked straight to his bathroom and threw up. Her very body rebelling against the thought that Chuck had given up. That he now thought they were never to be.

He didn't come to hold back her hair or even acknowledge she was still there. And after she'd flushed the toilet and rinsed her mouth out, she couldn't go out there to offer him comfort. She couldn't say that it would be alright, or that she would leave her prince. Instead she got into the elevator without another word, and left her keycard at the front desk for deactivation.

The last three years running, Louis, the person who was supposed to love her the most in the world, had managed to spoil Thanksgiving. He had been keeping her in Monaco, away from her friends and family. When she longed for the parade and pumpkin pie, she got pompous heads of state and picketing commoners. When it looked like he was going to break his Christmas promise this year too, she fought back. Hopped a commercial flight to New York and had Dorota ready her mother's penthouse.

She made plans to fill her weeks only to be unpleasantly surprised when he showed up on Christmas Eve, full of eager apologies. He couldn't stop her going to Chuck Bass's Christmas Eve party, she was determined. In the end he just tagged along.

It was awkward. All his friends and family were there. While they knew that it was Chuck's decision to let Blair be happy with Louis, it didn't seem fair to then come back and rub in his face the life Chuck had sacrificed for her happiness.

Louis was getting some very disdainful glances. And he was sticking close to Blair, which meant she was enduring some awkward conversations. Finally she got fed up with his clinginess and excused herself to the bathroom. Unbeknownst to her Serena had slipped out with the same intention only a moment before so the bathroom was already occupied. Not wanting to go back to the party, Blair turned and looked down the hall. The door to Chuck's bedroom was shut. But he didn't have anyone here with him, nor had Gossip Girl reported anything serious for months now.

Her curiosity whetted, she glanced over her shoulder then crept down the hall, opening his bedroom door and slipping in.

Serena just saw the back of her as the door closed.

Blair, meanwhile, was taking in everything that had changed. Which wasn't enough in her opinion. A few different pieces of art had gone up and the walls were a different colour but apart from that it was all the same. Made up bed with only a book on one side. No signs of anyone else as a regular visitor. The dressing room doors were open and Blair stepped through. Her dresser was gone, that was the first thing she noticed. The highly polished wood engraved with initials she hadn't taken was nowhere to be seen. A quick scan told her it wasn't here at all anymore and for some reason that upset her.

Wondering what else had gone she opened the cupboard where the red dress had once hung. The closet was no longer empty but it was being used as common storage space. Tubes of building blueprints stood tall along the bottom while extra sheets and pillows sat on the shelf above.

Swallowing, she turned to her left and hoped she could take what was coming. Her things weren't in his dressing room anymore – his plans for them had obviously been kicked out too. There was no reason the same couldn't be said for the tiny precious place her heart still kept sacred.

She opened the door and hit the light switches. Lights immediately began twinkling outside the French doors and a second later, lamps in the hands of two toy soldiers glowed to life. Her hand flew up to her mouth and she sobbed, shocked that the lilac room was still hidden back here.

"B?" Serena's voice startled her and she whirled around, open-mouthed at being caught and already highly strung.

Serena came in too, her hand reaching up to brush against the glittering carousel hanging in the doorway.

"It's beautiful," Serena unthinkingly appraised, looking out to the twinkling lights on the balcony and the city beyond. "What is this place?" she wondered as she moved to sit in the rocking chair.

The same one. Now a stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh had found a comfortable place to rest and Serena had to lift it into her lap before she could settle herself.

"He does things in here, when he's upset," Blair looked around sorrowfully, noting all the differences.

A small Van Gough depicting wildflowers was now affixed to one wall. The bookshelf had gone from a handful of books, to half full. A gorgeous antique off-white armoire had been brought in.

"Buys stuff animals?" Serena joked, giving Winnie the Pooh a hug and clearly missing the point. "A side of Chuck I never would have expected. Hey do you think this is worth a Gossip Girl tipoff?"

"It's our nursery," Blair clarified to her clueless best friend in a hushed voice, clearly distressed. "He didn't hurt it."

This wasn't a joke. The nursery was still here, unharmed. Which meant he didn't give up. She unthinkingly reached for the Tin Soldier's Ballerina and wound her up, placing her in the waiting lover's hand so he could watched her dance.

"Wait, you knew about this?" the disapproval in Serena's tone was not well masked.

Blair nodded.

"The carousel," she turned and pointed. It took her a moment to choke back a sob and properly form the words. "The carousel is mine," was all she could finally say.

She shared a long, teary gaze with Serena in the softly lit room. Finally Blair begged "Get Chuck," and turned from her friend to gaze out the large glass doors.

"Ok," Serena submitted.

After all she'd been Blair's friend long before Louis and would be long after he was gone. She ducked back out into the living room and touched their host's shoulder. He looked at her questioningly as she tipped her head towards the kitchen.

"Could I talk to you for a minute?"

Chuck didn't say a word, just frowned and put down his glass. He followed her into the kitchen and started with a rather annoying

"Look, Sis. If you need –"

"Blair wants you," she cut him off, meaning every kind of double entendre there possibly could be in that one sentence.

Chuck shut up immediately. He only paused a fraction of a second before drawling out in question "Where?"

Serena gave him a long, knowing look. Then she leaned forward and hugged him tightly. She squealed briefly and couldn't help jumping up and down once.

"Did you hit the bar before you came up tonight?" he asked condescendingly.

"No!" she protested. "Now go to Blair. She's in a purple room with toy soldier lights. I believe she called it a nursery."

Chuck's nostrils flared then he sucked in a deep breath.

"She's in the baby's room?" he paraphrased, unable to believe she would go there willingly.

Serena nodded eagerly.

Chuck nodded and dashed out the other door, avoiding his guests altogether. He raced down the corridors and through his bedroom until he could see her. He slowed down, cautiously questioning "Blair?" as he came up behind her.

She turned, her hand on the giant yellow stuffed bear's head.

"I used to love Winnie the Pooh," she was teary.

"Me too," he confessed.

He waited a beat and then dared to ask something that could literally send him over the edge if he heard anything but the answer he most desired. Swallowing, he looked up to the dangling Waldorf carousel.

"Have you though about bringing anything – anyone – into the Monaco royal family?"

She didn't answer right away. And when she did talk it was confusing.

"When you grow up you find out Winnie the Pooh is a drug addict, hooked on the rush from honey, willing to steal to feed his habit and likely heading for diabetes and heart disease."

She took a deep breath and then completely changed course.

"There's no bassinet," she looked him straight in the eye. "When you bring a baby home from the hospital, you need a bassinet for it to sleep in."

Chuck's eyes widened. Was he dreaming? He nodded at Blair in disbelief.

"I thought you should have a say in something so major. And now I've heard your opinion on Winnie the Pooh I think everything from here on out is probably best made as a joint decision."

Blair nodded.

"Fair enough. I love that painting," she turned and faced the Van Gogh.

Chuck hurried up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"I know," he whispered into her ear, his breath blowing her hair away from her neck. "You find it soothing. I had to blackmail a Rockefeller to get my hands on it."

"And you think the evidence of you deviousness is appropriate in our baby's room?" she asked, tentatively nuzzling back into his arms.

Chuck took it all in his stride, determined that he was coming out of tonight an engaged father-to-be and nothing less.

"I think our baby will be evidence enough of my deviousness and an impressionist painting or two in the nursery won't corrupt the little thing any further."

"It's beautiful," she whispered, letting him know how entranced she was, still was, after all this time.

"It has to be. It's for you."

Blair turned, cupped his cheek.

"I want to wait a month," she dictated decisively. "So we can be sure it's yours. I want my things back in the dressing room before we buy baby furniture. And I want to be free of him and married to you before anyone can tell I'm pregnant."

Chuck nodded slowly. Now he knew he was dreaming. Because his woman hadn't been this decisive and take-charge since her marriage to the inheriting prince. Blair cupped his cheek and asked "Any stipulations of your own?"

He blinked rapidly a few times, which was followed by a wicked grin covering his face.

"I want you on top when we conceive."

Blair smiled serenely and voiced "agreed."

As soon as the word was out of her mouth Chuck had cupped her cheeks in his palms and swooped in. Their lips touched then parted, dragging one another in to a passionate frenzy. Though they used protection on this occasion, it was practice for a month's time. They barely dragged themselves away long enough to kick the guests out. Louis lingered a little longer until Charlie's Place security escorted him from the premises. Meanwhile his soon to be ex-wife escorted the proprietor back to his bedroom where they exhausted his condom stash. And made up for the ruined holiday seasons that had preceded this one, by making up once and for all.

She woke up Christmas morning with him moving inside her.

"I couldn't wait a month," he slid out and then back in. Emphasising that his deliciously powerful cock was bare.

His tongue slid into her mouth too. Caressing her gently.

"When were you last with him?" he asked distractedly, his eyes tightening in his struggle to restrain himself.

"Three weeks ago," Blair whimpered.

Her irises widened in disbelief when he didn't pull out after the next thrust and instead moved his groin in a tight circle.

"Enough," he groaned. "We'll just," he swallowed nervously as Blair wrapped her ankles around his neck, quirking her perfectly plucked eyebrow at him. "Have a paternity test done after the birth so he doesn't bother us."

"Ensuring baby Bass grows up a society princess instead of a royal one?" Blair teased him.

"Exactly."

She laughed, her hands digging into his sides as she confessed "I'm still on the pill."

Chuck scowled. He turned, licking the tip of his tongue against the instep of her foot. Blair moaned the kind of whimper he cared to remember in hot showers with his hand around his dick.

"Not anymore," he tried to dictate.

"You promised me a month," Blair reminded. Her delicate, naked hand caressed his cheek as she wheedled "And I want to be your wife when we finally –" she cut herself off and pointedly flicked her eyes down to their mating bodies.

His eyes rolled back and he quickly swapped their positions, putting Blair on top of him like the manipulative queen she was.

"Divorce him." Chuck blindly grasped for the phone beside the bed and shoved it into her hand. "Now."

She took the phone but covered his hands and drew them to her hips, encouraging him to hold on. When she was grasped in his hands she let the phone drop by the wayside and gathered her hair in her hands, lifting it off her hot neck.

"Mmmmmm. So good," she breathily whimpered, rubbing her hips back and forth.

When she looked back to her prisoner he was staring up at her in awe, like she was an angel. In the four years they'd been married, Louis had never looked at her like that. He'd chosen to make her the princess and all the royalty was on his side.

Chuck Bass felt unworthy to be in her presence. Which is why her children would rule a Manhattan Empire, not a French principality. Starting with the baby girl born ten months later.