Chapter Text
Blair Waldorf was not a princess. She was not royalty. This was important for context. Chuck Bass was first aware of this when he saw her piss drunk at a club in Paris. This was something he had never truly allowed himself to acknowledge before. With parents in the gem cartel business, it was easy to forget. But Chuck Bass remembered. It took him awhile, but he remembered.
Charles Bartholomew Bass had only ever been the heir to the throne of the English monarchy. Serena and Eric were technically his half siblings. He had always been first in line, despite his terrible public relations history. He had come to this conclusion on the eve of Eric Van der Woodsen Bass’ suicide.
This was the same night that Lily Van der Woodsen Bass announced her intentions to abolish the English monarchy. This also happened to be the night that Chuck Bass grew to hate Blair Waldorf. He had followed his half-sister Serena to Paris purely to protect her. At least, that was what he had told himself.
Chuck lost Serena in the crowd some time after midnight. It ceased to matter after he found her best friend Blair Waldorf at a karaoke bar on some street he couldn’t be bothered with to pronounce, but she sure as hell could. Their karaoke machine carried Cindy Lauper but that wasn’t the issue.
Chuck had vowed to hate Blair on the behalf of his best friend Nate. Soon to be Duke Nathaniel Fitzwilliam Archibald had intended to propose marriage to diamond heiress Blair Waldorf until she broke his heart and ran off with a Greek shipping heir.
Particulars of anything had never been important to Chuck. So when he happened upon her in some trashy Parisian bar, he put aside years of friendship. Blair had really been the only person who understood his humor and never truly judged him. But that was irrelevant at that point. Now, all that mattered was Blair Waldorf’s destruction. Now that he had found her.
But for that moment, he would allow himself to watch her. He watched her dance at the podium, crusty and alcoholic smelling microphone in hand, he watched her sing some eighties oldie that she knew by heart. She didn't even have to look at the karaoke machine. He allowed himself to enjoy her joy. To feel her drunken freedom. In a moment, that would all be over.
Eric, the monarchy, every single insult his father had hurled at him would cease to matter. He finally had a purpose after all this time. And this would end the way that all things did.
His way.