Sympathy Is A Knife

Prologue

Mari Bechtel.

     More than a name to those at Constance Billard, less than a daughter to her own parents, and everything to one Nathaniel Archibald. Unbeknownst to him of course. Bonded from the spry age of 8, Mari had been a fixture in Nate's life ever since she found out that he was a (very) distant relative of JFK... sort of. Or, more importantly to her, the man Marilyn Monroe serenaded wearing the dress of every girl's dreams.
     As disappointed as she was to learn that the then 8-year-old Nathaniel had no idea of his family's Hollywood history, she felt as if she'd met her idol. A meet-and-greet organized by none-other than the upper east side's soon-to-be queen bee, Ms. Blair Cornelia Waldorf. Though Mari had always favoured the silhouettes of old, Eleanor Waldorf always supplied her with the latest c couture her label had to offer. Practically stitched into the fabric of Blair's life through the friends of her mother, Mari and B knew nothing outside of the 10 ft ceilings and marble floors of their penthouses.
     The day Serena came into the fold, everything fell into place. Blair had found the Alice to her queen of hearts and Mari had gained equilibrium. Both an angel and devil to rest on her shoulders to help guide her through high school. All the better to young Mari, Serena and Blair had each other. Neither to be alone when Mari's mind became more tantalizing than her reality. When she'd retreat into the walls of her room to blast No Doubt and picture another life. Perhaps a world where people interested her. Not to say that she didn't love her friends but Mari couldn't fathom the lovestruck emotions those around her began to feel as time went on. As cliche as it sounded, being born from a marriage of convenience seemed to grow resentment rather than hope in the young girl's heart. Monogamy seemed as futile as having a shower after getting your hair blown out.
     However, there was one who always seemed able to drag her from her mind. Peel back the vines, push her hair behind her ears and ask her what she was thinking. Their relationship was always uncategorized. As Nate was to be in love with her best friend they had little time to be together unchaperoned. Though Mari wouldn't open herself up to the physical expressions of love until later. Nate simply saw her as someone he could count on. A type of connection that not even the Bass family could afford, evidently. He told her everything. She listened to it all. He needed someone to trust and she needed someone to trust her. Preferring the company of her own thoughts, or at the very least a drink with an age restriction, to the masses, Mari was at Nate's disposal whether she liked it or not. But to be honest, she liked it. She lived for it.
More than eager to aid in the solution to other's problems than to deal with her own, she was a woman of action.
No one outside of the elite knew much of her.

Blair and Serena served as healthy outlets to each end of Mari's personality. The Ego, Id and Superego of the upper east side. The roles of which alternated.

Chuck Bass was, well... Chuck Bass. Spending their prime together Mari gained an essence of tolerance to the boy and an affection born from forced proximity.

And Nathaniel Archibald. A good boy with a good heart lacking in that of a back bone seeking solace in a girl born into the inner circle, with the patience for none but one.