The Little Princess

By Isabelle Hernandez

Rating: R, mature later chapter

Disclaimer: I own neither Gossip Girl and much less Chuck and Blair. Sadly.

Summary: A journey begins when Chuck sets out to find Blair after a tragedy. He brings his inquisitive five year old daughter with him. This is the story told by her.

A/N: It came to me in a dream, and I decided to write it down. Thank you to my beta, Tati.

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Preface

"I asked my father once, as we sat on a plane on our way to Prague, if he loved my mother. He replied that I wouldn't know what love was until love had broken me. He dodged questions like he always did, but it wasn't until the age of nineteen that I understood what he meant. Father was always right, but mother always knew better – and somehow they made sense." ~ Ilsa C. Bass

It must be stated that Ilsa C. Bass never set out to be a writer. She lived her long and happy life as a socialite and a spokeswoman for Waldorf Designs. She married at the young age of 23, like most Upper East Siders, and loved her husband, Paxton Burke, and their four children. After she passed away, her diaries were found and published selectively by her eldest daughter, Blair C. Burke, and Ilsa's youngest sister, Eveline Bass, who never married and cared for her parents until they passed away. The diaries, found in 2088, two years after Ilsa died, detailed the story of the disappearance of Blair Bass in 2016. This is the story of Charles and Ilsa's journey when Ilsa was but five years old, and their search for her mother. Blair Bass died when Blair Burke was fourteen. Charles Bass died five months later. At their time of death, their family was well over fifty-five people and had large financial and political influence. Thanksgiving and Christmas was still religiously held at their home.

The story was never confirmed as either truth or a product of Ilsa's very grand imagination, which she was said to have inherited from her mother – or so said her father.

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New York City

"You've got to understand one thing about me," he says as he blows smoke through his nose. He watches the smoke float around him, making him less real and more fiction. "I'm going to find this woman, and I'm going to bring her home."

He states it with such finality that he feels the tiny hairs on the very top of his thighs curl and unfurl. The end of this story has been written. It always was, since the beginning.

He's young, he notices, younger than he thought. No more than twenty-five… maybe twenty-six, but he looks as if he's lived a hundred years. Lived a hundred lives. Loved a hundred women. Or men.

"She's the only woman I've ever loved." And the last statement comes out as a whisper, not meant for anyone to hear. Not meant to be repeated, to be believed, and much less to be real. But it is. As real as the five o'clock shadow that mars his young face, as real as the bags under his eyes.

What can a man do against such raw masculinity?

He can nod.

"I'm glad we understand one another. Bass jet in an hour…" He looks away. "I've got to put my daughter to sleep."

The elder, quieter man watches the younger one stand, flick off his cigarette and walk away. He must shake himself because for a moment he thinks he's in a film noir, with silent men in shadows who whisper about heroines in corners. He's stepped into a time-zone. Time can't touch them there.

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His forehead is pressed to side of the elevator as it ascends to the very top of the world, to the very top of the world he created for them. The one they created. A place high above the clouds where they thought nothing could touch them. Yet here he was… a broken man.

He counts silently as he ascends. He counts the minutes of his life. He counts as his life is drained from him.

He thinks he finally understands how his father felt all those years.

He's got to face the most innocent thing in the world and assure her that the way she looks doesn't affect him. That her large brown eyes, inherited from her mother, don't cut right through him. In the past, he had love the resemblance, priding himself in her beauty. Now he cursed it. They were cursed dark creatures who had no right bringing innocent things into this world. They had brought all that darkness upon themselves. They deserved this. They deserved it all.

98… 103… 134… 154…

The seconds of his life; the moments that passed him by.

The once comforting 'bing' of the elevator where he would rush home, happy and elated to finally be in his own little sanctuary with his tiny little family waiting for him is now tainted. No clicking of her heels… No perfume lingering in the air. No warm smile to greet him or narrowed eyes to pick a fight.

This was worse than anything. This was what his father felt every day. No wonder his old man hated him. Despised him. No wonder…

He became afraid that his heart would harden, turn into stone before he could blink his eyes again… Before he could backpedal his emotions… Before…

And then his salvation came in distant words, distant sounds…

"Daddy!"

Small bare feet dashed down the stairs and his heart leapt to his throat as he watched her trip slightly on her long nightgown.

"ILSA!" He shouted, running forward, but the child was fine, she bounced back like all small children do and ran the rest of the stairs, throwing herself in her father's arms as a mass of bouncing golden-brown curls floated around him.

He breathed in for a moment, reminding himself that she was alright. She was fine. Had no idea of the turbulence around her. Had no idea of the pain he was going through. Had no idea that he too would have to leave in search of their deliverance.

He pulled back to stared harshly at her. She could've fallen, she could've gotten hurt, she could've…died. The word was thick and dry in his throat. His tongue was raw with its effect.

"What have I told you about these stairs?" He nearly shouted.

Ilsa's eyes widened in fright. He never ever yelled at her. He did nothing but dote on her.

"I'm sorry daddy," she whispered. There was water already accumulating in her orbs and her little lower lip trembled slightly.

It broke his broken, dark heart and he felt just like his father. A twisted soul. How could he yell at such angel?

"You could've gotten hurt!" He reasoned and then pulled her to his chest, rocking her slightly as she held on to the collar of his shirt. Her tiny fingers, nails painted purple, dug into his skin as she made a grand show of being hurt. "You could've gotten hurt," he repeated.

As much as he loved being a father and watching his best friend and brother chuckle at how whipped he was by the little angelic thing, he often hated it. Despised it. Wanted to backpedal quickly and swiftly.

But then she would say 'daddy' and said thoughts would fly out of his head, and he would regret even thinking them.

"Where's Mommy?"

Her little voice broke through his thoughts, erasing delusions that all was well, and the pain that his heart tried to erase and bury surfaced faster than the time it took for him to fall in love with his little princess.

"She's not with you?" She asked, still tugging at his collar. He noticed she had been playing with her mother's makeup. There was a line of blush across one cheek and lipstick on her tooth. His jaw tightened, and he breathed in slowly.

"We have to talk, princess," he told her, carrying her up the stairs. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and laid her head on his shoulder. They passed Dorota, whose eyes were wide and red.

"Mr. Chuck, I tried stop her but she quick, Mr. Chuck," Dorota attempted to explain, but Chuck held up his hand and dismissed her words.

"Bye Dorota." Ilsa waived her little hand at her maid as her father carried her to her room. Chuck gently laid her on her large bed and sat next to her, a shadow covering his face.

Ilsa, knowing of no danger and content with all the attention, happily snuggled into the covers. "Can I get a story, Daddy? A nice, long one?" She pleaded, and he was tempted to say yes. Tempted to lull her to sleep with tales of perfect love where darkness never touched a princess once she had lived happily ever after, but his heart wouldn't let him. He could lull her to sleep, never tell her of his plans, and have her sob for days on Serena's arms as she kept asking questions and never receiving answers. Yet he couldn't do it. He just couldn't. She would hate them. Hate him and that he couldn't live with.

"Listen, Ilsa…" He whispered. "Daddy has to go away for a while. Just a little while…"

His words and the tone of his voice instantly made her sit up on her bed, staring at him with no consolation.

"To Japan again, Daddy?" She cried, remembering the time he had left for days. Though her mother had tried to keep her entertained, by the third day of his absence she fell asleep in tears and Chuck flew back on day five instead of day fifteen as originally intended.

Chuck swallowed and met her eyes head on. "For a bit longer than that, baby."

The eyes before him widened even more and, on cue, water filled them. "No, Daddy!" She threw herself into his arms and sobbed loudly, filled with all the drama in her veins, begging him not to go. "Don't leave, Daddy! Please stay!"

He held her tightly, massaging her small head, tears threatening to spill from his own eyes at the thought that he was causing her so much distress.

"Aunt Serena is going to look after you while I'm gone," he attempted to explain. This set off a light bulb in her small head, and she pulled back and stared at him. Her blush was now gone as was the lipstick on her tooth. "Where's Mommy?"

He really did curse her at that moment. He cursed her for leaving him in his position, having to give this explanation. To see this pain.

"I'm… I'm going to find Mommy… and bring her back." He tried to speak without dissolving into his own misery.

This caused even more hysterics, as Ilsa realized she would be left alone without even her mother. But it was at that moment that she realized that she had not seen her mother all day… That she had not seen her mother for a while. Since last night, when she had whispered, "I'll always love you, my sweet angel," against Ilsa's forehead as she tucked her into to sleep.

"I want my mommy!" The child wailed loudly against his chest. "I want her now!"

"Shhh…. I know, princess…" His heart felt broken and lonely. In the warmth of the pink and yellow room, he felt utterly cold and alone. He felt raw and evil. He couldn't give this most innocent creature in the world what she so desired. "And you're going to get her, I promise, I swear it."

"Are you going to get her now?" Ilsa whimpered, rubbing her eyes, something her mother would never allow her to do.

"Yes. The plane's standing by… I promise to bring her back, princess. Before you know it, she will be singing you lovely songs and telling you happy stories. I promise." He would promise the world at the moment to this lovely child.

Wide brown eyes were not convinced of anything. They distrusted his words because he was leaving her and she hated him for it, he could see it in her eyes.

"I'll come with you!" She suddenly said, and he quickly shook his head, adamant in this thought.

"No, princess. You can't."

Ding. The elevator was heard again.

In the deep crevices of his heart he hoped it would be her. Taking off her gloves and handing them to Dorota as she told her how exhausted she was and how none of the women in the charity she had solely founded had any intelligent thoughts between their well-botoxed eyes. Her hair would be in an elegant twist and her hips would be encased in a fitting yet tasteful pen-skirt. She would bitch some more about those women before turning to the stairs and calling for her little princess. She would smile at her and embrace her, surrounding the little girl with her Chanel perfume and asking her why her father hadn't put her to bed yet. She would do all those things and then turn to him, a mischievous smile on her lips. 'I see she's convinced you she has no bedtime again, my love.' And he would smile, meeting her with a kiss and reply, 'your daughter does put up a very convincing argument.' And then their daughter would demand their attention by showing them how well she had brushed her teeth.

But it was not Mrs. Bass. Not this time. He needed to find her to be once more chastised for letting their daughter be up past her bedtime.

"Chuck!"

He closed his eyes. Serena was here.

"No, Daddy!" Ilsa shouted, well aware that her time was soon coming. She clung tighter to him, sobbing louder and louder. Serena, sensing where the screams were coming from, quickly entered her niece's room. Ilsa let out a wail when she spotted her aunt. "No, Daddy!"

Serena's eyes were just as hollow and her eyes met Chuck's and they nodded at one another.

"Sweetheart, don't cry. Please don't cry," Serena soothed Ilsa, sitting by Chuck and running her hands over the curls. "You love coming home with me, you'll play with Francis. You can pull his tail all you like."

"I don't want to! Please, Daddy, please!" And that's when Chuck started pulling her small hands from his neck. Pulling her off and breaking off a piece of the little bit of soul he still had left.

"C'mon, Ilsa, you'll soon see Daddy," Serena attempted, sensing from Chuck's silence that he was inches from falling apart.

"NOOO!!" He was finally free of her, and Serena held her back, her own tears now falling quickly down her cheeks. "DADDYYYY!!!!"

Chuck felt like a monster. He was a cruel human being. He was a wretched soul. How could he do this to her? Listening to her sobs, watching her little outstretched arms as they begged for him.

"Please, Daddy, I'll be a good girl. I'll be a good girl, I promise! Please don't leave, Daddy!" Her wails broke him. Broke all that was left of him. His eyes were wide and red as he turned, his ears capturing every word, every sob, every tear, every plea.

"No! Daddy, please! I wont ask for a pony, I promise, Daddy!" Ilsa sobbed, and Serena sobbed right along her like a fool. "I won't cry at the doctors, I won't! I'll even get a shot, Daddy, please! Please, I'll be a good girl, I'll be a good girl –"

He couldn't take it. He was a fool.

He swiftly turned and captured Ilsa in his arms, holding her to him as she sobbed in relief. "Don't go, Daddy, don't go. Please don't go. Don't leave me behind. I'll be a good girl. I will try my hardest, daddy!"

"You're a good girl, Ilsa. You're a perfect girl." He explained, and Serena sobbed into her hands because she couldn't help.

"Then why are you leaving me, Daddy?" Ilsa demanded, her face twisted as she glared at him, touching his face. "Why, Daddy?"

"I'm not leaving forever, baby. Just for a little while, just to go get mommy," he explained quietly, but his voice felt like it belonged to a stranger. Serena sobbed even more, making more noise than Ilsa.

"Mommy said…" Ilsa was now hiccupping. "M-mommy said that forever is for however long the heart thinks it to be."

Charles Bass looked into the eyes of his child, and she knew that she had won. His own daughter, his flesh and blood had beat him at all his games. She had used her most powerful weapon. His love for Blair.

"Let's get you packed."

"I asked my father once, as we sat on a plane on our way to Prague, if he loved my mother. He replied that I wouldn't know what love was until love had broken me. He dodged questions like he always did but it wasn't until the age of nineteen that I understood what he meant. Father was always right, but mother always knew better – and somehow they made sense." ~ Ilsa C. Bass

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TBC

Belle's notes: I've nearly finished this story, I will be posting chapters every other day to give everyone a chance to read it. Thank you for your encouraging comments, I always read them and appreciate them. I am very happy that I'm able to give you all a nice break from RL. Characters in this fic will be mostly Ilsa and Chuck, as the story is told by her young eyes but Blair will be often featured in memories or Ilsa's thoughts of her and her parents. Other GG characters will be minimal if any, I do a lot of original characters. This style is a bit different for me as most of you who have read my fiction know I tend to write in Blair's POV because I 'get' her more and I think her inner thoughts are hilarious so let us hope I dont mess this bit up too much. Carry on. :)