Fic: Heaven Doth the Devil Yearn (2/4)
Jun. 9th, 2009 11:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
imp3ratrixRating: R
Disclaimer: Gossip Girl and all immediate characters, themes and ideas are registered trademarks and belong to Cecily von Ziegesar, Josh Schwartz and Stephanie Savage. No profit is being accumulated from this writing piece.
Spoilers: Yes (Up to and including Valley Girls)
Notes: Final part(s) will be up in the next few days, and it’s going to be downright naughty!
The wedding is delayed for a mere week only, and everything goes as originally planned, minus one proud bridesmaid. People can gasp and wonder how such a grand event can be reorganised with impeccable speed and efficiency, but they forget that he is a Vanderbilt, and nothing is impossible.
The breathing space was all the time needed for Anne to convince Nathaniel to uphold his obligation as his cousin’s best man, and for the boy to think matters through with a clear head. And evidently the time away has done wonders, because when he does see him again, his grandson apologises for his outburst in earnest. Its progress, he concedes, and he should be glad, but the boy still has a long way to go before he truly regains his respect.
He’s surprised, too, when he tells him he’s still seeing Blair, and of their plans to begin living together in the city, with him at Columbia – the word frustrates him to no end – and her at NYU. It’s an outcome he hadn’t calculated for; the boy had always been so impressionable and unreasonably sensitive, so it stood to reason he wouldn’t be able to look past her ‘faults’ and forgive her recent scheming. But Nathaniel has seemingly matured far beyond his years. And from the sound of things, their relationship’s far stronger than ever before, and it’s not a desirable circumstance.
So for most of the reception party he analyses his options; contemplates his next best course of action, all the while gazing at the object of his obsession. She’s all smiles and unabashed delight, clad in a tight dress of shimmering Prussian blue that ends just above her knees, and never far from Nathaniel’s side. To any unsuspecting observer, she would represent a portrait of unadulterated happiness. But he knows her better than anyone else, even those self-obsessed children she keeps close and calls ‘friends’, and there’s no mistaking the desolate streak reflected in her brown eyes. She can play pretend and lie to herself as much as she wants, as much as is necessary to numb the pain, but the two of them know the truth; her plans of paradise have failed to see the light.
He sees opportunity in her discontent, and when his grandson leaves her side, dragged away by the groom, he moves like a well-honed predator, eyes entirely on the prize.
“Blair,” he greets simply from behind, startling her slightly before she turns to face him with parted lips and eyes oh so wide. “I hadn’t expected to see you here, but it’s a pleasure nonetheless.”
“Mister Vanderbilt,” she cautiously returns, taking a guarded step back.
“Nathaniel told me that the two of you had worked things out. I was very glad to hear that.”
“No thanks to you,” she all but spits at him, her tone hard and posture defiant. Any and all vestiges of weakness are gone in favour of raw fury. And her eyes are burning like only Blair Waldorf’s can, and it’s a thrilling sight to behold. The pit of his stomach tightens.
“Blair, you must know that a relationship is doomed if honesty is lacking. Telling Nathaniel everything ensured the issue wouldn’t cause even greater havoc for the both of you at a later date. I assure you; I only had your best interests in mind.”
“Yes, well...,” she begins after a few moments of silence, fiddling with a ruby ring on her finger. “Nate and I are in a good place right now, so please forgive us if we don’t want or need any more of your ‘help’.”
“I deserve that,” he concedes with a solemn expression, all the while succumbing to an internal inferno; there’s nothing that invigorates the soul quite like a ferocious Blair Waldorf. “Perhaps I did overstep my bounds.”
She says nothing, but the haughty arch of one of her aristocratic brows does not go unnoticed as she swallows her champagne. It’s a challenge, incredulous and so daring, and he’s never run away from one. She really should pick her fights more wisely.
“You must be pleased with your acceptance to NYU then. It’s not Yale, or even Ivy League for that matter, but it’s a good school. I’m sure your prospects won’t suffer considerably.”
“Yale was a dream,” she interjects quickly, “And dreams are for little girls, which I no longer am. I’ve learnt to be more pragmatic with my life; making the most of what I have.”
“Noble words. Though I can see why you’re so quick to acquiesce. At the end of the day, it all works out in your favour; you’ll be in the city with Nathaniel, sharing an apartment… laying out the groundwork for your future lives together.”
“Yes!” she proclaims a little too hastily, as a forced smile illustrates her agitation. “Everything is wonderful.”
He nods slowly at her false assurances as she grabs another glass of champagne from a passing tray, swallowing most of it with a single mouthful. She’s on edge, and he has her right where he wants her.
“I’m sure. Of course, there’s no knowing what the future holds. Nathaniel has always been restless and impulsive, I don’t need to tell you that. A mundane routine can only keep him appeased for so long before he goes off and does something foolish,” he states conspiratorially, pausing to observe the conflicting emotions radiating off her. He decides to twist the knife a little deeper. “By the way, where is that blonde friend of yours? Serena, wasn’t it?”
She looks away for a moment, most likely to compose herself, before meeting his gaze with a tight little smile. “Nate isn’t like that, not anymore. He’s grown up.”
“Perhaps, but as much as it disappoints me to say, the boy is his father’s son; utterly dissatisfied with life and constantly running away from his responsibilities. You know his shortcomings well, I’m sure; the illegal substances, defying family, choosing a sub-par university out of spite, slumming it with Brooklyn’s ‘finest’, loosing himself in the arms of carefree blondes….”
“Stop,” she pleads suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper, and he can see her eyes beginning to tear up and her bottom lip tremble. “I told you, he’s changed. Nate wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Not intentionally, no. But history is against him, and no matter how complacent things among you seem to be, there’ll always be an insecure little voice at the back of your mind playing on your fears. That will force you to wonder every time you look in the mirror if you’re good enough,” he states matter-of-factly in a tone that could just as easily be used to describe the weather.
But Blair is nothing more than an emotional mess, eyes wide and oh so scared, her body rigid and frozen in place by the sheer brutality of his words. He’s being harsh, he knows, but this is a game of necessity and nothing but utter cruelty will suffice. After all, he’s playing to win.
“Nathaniel will adopt the family line, I assure you, and cement his future in the process. And before you know what’s happening, you’ll be pinning your hopes on him after waking up one day and realising you have nothing. From that, your days will forever be consumed with uncertainties and crazed suspicions, because you’ll know that if he was willing to leave you once before, he could just as easily do so again... only this time he’ll leave you with nothing. And no matter how many times you stick your fingers down your throat, how many times you attempt to find control, the pain will never go away.”
Stunned silence follows, but she really shouldn’t be surprised; knowledge is power.
“...How do you know about that?” she chokes out suddenly, a tear sliding down her cheek and she’s furiously brushing it away, all the while staring into his ebony eyes.
It’s a pitiful display, and not the Blair Waldorf his blood boils for, but at the same time, there’s something oddly alluring in her moment of distress. Or maybe, he’s more human than he thinks, and all he really wants to do is pull her into a tight, protective embrace. It’s certainly something to reflect upon.
“I know you better than you think, Blair,” he whispers simply as he tucks several wayward strands of fine hair behind her ear. And he really does; her smiles, her frowns, her ups and her downs, they’re all second nature to him now (1).
“I really hate seeing you like this, in this situation, when you deserve so much more. When you could easily have more.”
She pauses at that, her eyes going wide in surprise – touched by a glimmer of hope too good to be true – but, as always, she is cautious to a fault. “What are you saying?”
“What I’m saying is that it’s not too late to remedy your recent misfortunes, and secure your future. You just have to place your faith in the right person.”
He closes the distance between them, and he’s so close he can practically hear the frenzied beating of her heart. God only knows what’s going on in her mind, but the offer’s been made, and it’s all up to her now. She watches him closely, scrutinizing him to the core in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of his soul, or the lack thereof, as he strokes her cheek with his thumb. It’s a simple gesture, but it carries with it so many promises and expectations, and he can feel the fires of what awaits growing deep inside his being.
He retracts his hand and steps back, swallowing his champagne as his gaze purposely travels up and down the length of her, from head to toe and back again, before he meets her eyes once more; eyes so full of conflict and apprehension and so much more. But there is light where darkness exists, and it isn’t hard to see the fire burning in her eye’s dark expanse. He smiles knowingly, and it says so much more than words ever could.
* * *
He is alone within his study at the manor house one late evening; settled into his favourite antique high back leather armchair, before a fire and nursing a glass of neat fifty year-old Macallan Scotch whiskey. He’s so lost in his thoughts, staring at the dazzling flames that manage to soothe him unlike anything else – and he swears he sees a phoenix dancing hypnotically in the middle of it all – that he hardly registers the head manservant announcing a visitor there to see him. All he hears is the crackling of the open fireplace for the longest of moments, before a small voice finally manages to snap him out his trance.
“Mister Vanderbilt?”
His gaze seeks out the voice – he knows it so well – almost instantly and there she is, standing only a few feet away from him, clad in a beautifully modest, long-sleeved black dress, stilettos and holding a small bag with tentative hands in front of her. Her gorgeous locks are loose, framing her nervous features; highlighted by fire’s golden light, and she’s truly an angelic sight to behold.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised; only a few days have passed since they last spoke, and he hadn’t expected to see her quite so soon. It’s clear she’s desperate, and the fact that she made the journey all the way to the estate speaks volumes of that. But he wastes no time on such trivialities, because she is right there in front of him. She came to him. But before he can say a single word, she beats him to it.
“I don’t want to go to NYU! I don’t want to experiment with lesbianism! I don’t want to live in a tacky apartment in Murray Hill! I don’t want to take the subway! I don’t want to be a failure in my mother’s eyes! I don’t want to feel insecure around Nate! I don’t want to be a nobody with nothing to show for!” she blurts out, not once taking pause or a calming breath. He raises an eyebrow at her outburst, trying to process whatever he can get out of it.
“Blair–”
“I want Yale!” she interrupts, taking a step forward, desperation and supplication lacing every word, urgency her features. “I know you can make it happen, and you made it clear that I could come to you, so here I am. Please... I’ll do anything.”
He says nothing, only gazes at her harrowed being – a humbled Queen at his mercy – through narrowed eyes, wondering all the while if she’s truly aware of what she’s saying. Of what she’s promising. The end result will be significant indeed, and he questions whether she’s ready, whether she’s strong enough, to handle what awaits the both of them at the end of this chaotically tantalizing road.
“Please,” she pleads as she takes another step towards his chair, cutting into the stifling silence, and he thinks she might break entirely right there and then.
She’s desperate, but he won’t knowingly exploit her in such a state; he has a sense of honour, after all. So he decides to allow her to set the pace for this errant game – a generous privilege he would not bestow upon anyone else – and opts to see what she decides upon next. He rises from his seat.
“And what are you willing to offer in return?” he enquires simply, eyeing her closely for a reaction. Her answer will tell him exactly how serious she is; whether or not she’s truly grasped the terms of this little game.
It’s her turn to be silent, merely staring at him with wide, vulnerable eyes and parted lips – so seemingly innocent and pure – and all he wants to do is crush his lips against hers… to pin her against the wall and drag her down to the most carnal depths of Hell with him. The thought is positively mythical, and she truly is Persephone; his Queen and salvation.
She must see the deep sated desire in his ebony eyes, how they burn for her, because she’s suddenly taking a sharp intake of air as her body trembles under the weight of his lust-filled gaze, and the veil of ignorance and uncertainty has finally been lifted.
But the oppressive silence does not waver, and he considers the possibility that she really isn’t ready – but he can’t have miscalculated – so he decides it’s time to force a real reaction out of her.
“I think it would be best if you leave now, Blair,” he states dismissively, turning his back on her and effectively closing the door on Yale and the rest of her dreams. The realisation hits her instantly.
“No, wait!” she cries out in panic, grasping his arm as if for dear life itself.
He turns to look at her, content that they’re finally getting somewhere, and she meets the force of his gaze with equal measure. It’s as if they are engaged in some unspoken battle, a battle of wills, and yet she knows he holds all the cards, and that it’s her life that hangs in the balance. As such, the ever-present, haughty tilt of her head amuses him to no end... but the way her body trembles excites him like nothing on Earth.
She stands up on her toes, wholly supporting herself by holding onto his broad shoulders, and places a small kiss on his cheek. It’s sweet, and innocent, and pure, and he’s reminded of her considerable naivety and youth. When he looks down at her – the weight of her hold enough to bring him to his knees – wholly prepared to see resentment, he sees but only a hint of nervousness overcome by a firm resolve. She’s made up her mind, succumbed to her fate, and he finds himself in a paradise long ago considered lost.
“Are you sure you want to go down this path?”
It’s her last and only chance to pull away, to disappear in a flurry of embarrassment and dismay in which neither of them speak of this event ever again. He is being generous once more – naturally, he is bound to please his Queen – but he wants no doubts in her mind. She bites her lip, looks down at their feet for only a moment before meeting his narrowed gaze once more with true Waldorf confidence.
“I’m sure.”
She’s finally his.
* * *
“I received my acceptance letter to Yale!”
He looks up from his menu at her approaching figure, and she’s donning a smile that truly lights up the entire room. It’s strangely comforting to see her so happy – so alive – once again, and he takes great delight in knowing that he was the cause of it and he alone.
It’s the first he’s seen of her since that night she came to him, offering herself so willingly. He’d sent her home immediately after her chaste proposition, for despite having being so consumed by expectation and need, the wait always was half the fun. Soon, all would be ripe for the taking, but until then, he’s content with simply having the pleasure of her company.
He rises from his seat as she takes her own across from him, sparing a moment to squeal giddily before accepting a menu from the nearest waiter. He almost laughs at the display, but it is curiosity that prevails over his amusement, and he can’t help but lift a brow at the strange spectacle before him. Surely she isn’t surprised at the news; it must have been expected. She had asked him for Yale, not some insignificant peon. She was bound to have it.
“Of course you did,” he states, taking another look at the listings and contemplating a choice of either rôti de boeuf et escargots or caille farcie de foie gras et caramélisée. “Was there ever any doubt in your mind?”
“Oh, I can’t wait to tell Nate!” she gushes, all but ignoring his question. “I think Prom night would be the perfect setting. I’ve been planning for it ever since I was a child, and even now I secretly wish for it to be as magical as it was in my dreams. I even have a scrapbook that I put together, with drawings of my dream dress and my dream partner....”
She takes a slight pause to sigh wistfully – clearly still a child at heart and the fairy tales are never far away – and he wonders where all her assurances of having grown up have disappeared to. Clearly, it’s the twelve year-old Blair he first met sitting on the other side of the table, and it’s such a disturbing case of déjà vu that he’s reaching for his glass of Château Haut-Brion and drinking it down slowly, all the while carefully studying over the rim this monster he’s created.
“I didn’t think it would all come together like this, but it did! And everything is perfect, just as I pictured it would be. I’m going to Yale, going to my Senior Prom with Nate,” she continues dreamily, “and who knows, I might just be able to persuade him to come with me! It’s all been so wonderful between us that I simply couldn’t imagine him turning down the chance for us to be together all throughout college.”
“Well that is certainly reassuring to hear,” he says, putting down his glass. It’s definitely satisfying to hear it has all come about so well in his favour; Nathaniel’s situation will simply be one less matter to worry about.
“Of course, I will have to come up with a convincing reason as to why they renewed my application,” she ponders aloud, and he’s fairly certain he needs more red wine. Who would have thought a simple lunch date with Blair Waldorf could be so... demanding.
As a waiter refills his glass, an alert goes off and he watches as she quickly pulls out her phone to read a message. Her expression quickly changes to one of pleasant surprise – more good news – and sure enough Lady Fortune has been entirely too generous as of late.
“Nelly Yuki has been destroyed,” she whispers incredulously under her breath.
“Sorry?”
“Nelly Yuki! That two-faced, four-eyed, devious little snipe who thought she could hijack my Yale spot and undermine me in front of my underlings... she’s been destroyed! Something happened to her family’s holdings, and they hardly have anything left,” she explains, eyeing the text greedily. “This is perfect. I actually have my explanation, right here.”
“You’re welcome,” he states with cool indifference, eyes once again on the menu.
“What?” she asks airily, looking up at him with curious eyes and a small smile.
He doesn’t meet her gaze.
Another alert goes off, and she’s looking down at her phone again, her features slowly morphing from ecstatic joy, to apprehensive and cautious, and her smile is all but gone. She parts her lips several times, as if trying to conjure a word, or even a mere sound, but for all her trying she has nothing to show for. All is quiet between them for several long moments.
“Is something wrong?” he finally asks.
“Its... its Hazel, Penelope and Izzy. Their families are also having sudden financial difficulties.”
“Ah. I would have thought that would be good news,” he mentions with a nonchalant tone.
She slowly looks up at him, trepidation lacing her expression.
“Mister Vanderbilt?” she enquires warily, unaware or purposely ignorant to the meaning of his words. Really, she should know better by now.
“You really should learn to keep those beneath you under control,” he explains with that same emotionless tone, “and to discipline them accordingly if they forget their place. A queen must not forgive disloyalty, ever.”
And she’s speechless, utterly speechless – when she really should be thanking him – and he cannot fathom why his assertion would come as such a surprise. She’s seen the extent of his influence, and the limits of his mercy. As such, that expression of disbelief... that look of fear and caution, should not be plaguing her lovely porcelain face.
She puts her phone away, and forces a smile as she picks up her menu with an effort to hide behind it. A shaky laugh follows. “I’m famished. I wonder what’s good here....”
He overlooks the defenceless display – so unbecoming of Blair Waldorf – and reasons that this will simply be another lesson in the ways of power and loyalty. He allows time for the implications of it all to settle in, and so a thick silence grows as they skim their respective menus, neither willing to break it.
“Well, well... if this isn’t a pleasant surprise.”
“Chuck?!”
“Blair.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Dining, of course. I worked up quite an appetite after last night’s... extra-curricular activities. Clearly revision of the French language inspired the Napoleon within, and to divide and conquer never was so sweet. You could say I still have a craving for it.”
“Ugh! Spare me.”
“It’s really only practice, Waldorf, but if you think you can do a better job educating me….”
The boy’s incessant insinuations are truly a pitiable display, and he doesn’t appreciate the apparent lack of respect his words show towards Blair. Then he notices the knowing glint in his eye, and it all makes sense. He’s more disappointed than surprised – looking at him he can scarcely see anything that would be worthy of Blair Waldorf – for surely the girl knows she deserves, and can have, better. So much better.
He puts down the leather-bound menu, and looks at the Bass heir with utter contempt. It’s no wonder Nathaniel has very little to show for, when his supposed ‘best friend’ for the longest of time consisted of the boy standing arrogantly in front of him; pathetically spoilt his entire life with nothing to show save a fatal case of hubris. It’s so characteristic of the newer generations, more so among children of the nouveau riche – so lacking of proper direction – and it’s clear to him the boy needs to learn his place.
“Not now, Chuck. I have company,” Blair whispers harshly under her breath, and he wonders whether their thoughts are suddenly one and the same because her dissuasion couldn’t have come at a more opportune time.
The boy turns to look at him, finally, and his expression is one of surprise, as if he weren’t previously aware of his presence. His own features remain neutral, but the harshness of his gaze forces the young heir to swallow slowly and take a small step away from the table. The boy turns to Blair then, studying her carefully, as if assessing the situation, but she refuses to meet his gaze and so he slowly turns his head back to him. He’s quiet for only a moment.
“I apologise, I certainly didn’t mean to intrude,” he says with a cautious tone, managing a tight smile as he turns back to the brunette. “Blair, take care of yourself.”
It sounds like a warning, and he’s admittedly impressed with his perceptiveness. Maybe there’s more to the young Bass heir than debauchery and self-obsessive tendencies, and its all the more reason to keep an eye on him.
“Mister Vanderbilt sir,” he finalises, meeting his gaze.
“Charles.”
Silence follows as the boy stalks off, Blair’s eyes wholly on his retreating form. Several unnamed emotions flash in those dark orbs, and it makes something at the pit of his stomach churn. He’s seen a lot of life in his many years to know that she could never find true happiness with such a being; thrilling as it would be in the beginning, such a relationship would be damned to end in nothing more than misery and pain. One day, one day soon, he’s certain she’ll come to realise this. But until then, he intends to have all of her attention on him.
“Let me know if that presumptuous Dean Berube gives you any grief this fall, or anyone else for that matter,” he mentions, breaking the silence.
And she turns to him with those apprehensive chocolate orbs – contemplating what she’s gotten herself into, and the price she’s paid to have it all – and he feels as if it’s a step back from all the progress they have made. He only wants to see her content – and writhing passionately beneath him, of course – and he is willing to do anything, even give her the world if only it means he’ll see her smile, and he wonders why she’s blinded to such a truth. He decides that perhaps a different approach – one of fairytales and happily-ever-afters – is needed. So he reaches for her small hand – here’s to new beginnings – and covers it with his. He doesn’t say anything, nor does he meet her gaze as he reopens his menu.
He wonders whether she truly comprehends the profound meaning behind the simple gesture, because he’s still coming to terms with it himself, but as the minutes tick by and she’s yet to pull away, he thinks his heart swells – yes, the Devil has one too – at the prospect that maybe, just maybe, she sees a happily ever after in all this too.
* * *
(1) Quoted from My Fair Lady, naturally.
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Date: 2009-06-09 02:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 10:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 03:09 am (UTC)No pressure for the finale then XD
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Date: 2009-06-09 05:54 pm (UTC)This chapter was fantastic. Honestly makes me wish there were more parts to this series. Maybe a sequel? I know, I know, that's all a bit premature, considering the fact that I haven't even read the finale.
In a sort of creepy way, I find this all very sweet. You actually have me rooting for good ol' Bill (great, now I'm gonna be in financial ruin because I called him that and I'll find out via a text message). Oooh, and the tension with Chuck! The description of Blair's desperation! All VERY good.
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Date: 2009-06-10 03:52 am (UTC)To be honest, I can't rule out the possibility of more of this pairing. I may write something else from Blair's point-of-view. And that other meme at 'gossipgirlanon' is also playing on my mind, and it's all far too tempting to ignore. Seriously, this can't be good for my health...
And sweet, even creepy sweet, is good. I really wanted to expose two sides to William; the Machiavellian puppet master and a truly considerate, caring man deep within (he just has a sinister way of showing it). I had to give him a soul, however flawed, so the ending I planned could work. Hopefully, it does.
(And I don't think I've seen that movie XD)
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Date: 2009-06-09 10:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 05:11 am (UTC)William always struck me for a man who's all about gains and non-zero-sum games, Washington man that he is. But he does have a considerate soul deep down, I'm sure, and his involvement with Blair is beginning to bring that better side to the surface. He just has a scary way of showing it... :P