Chapter Text
The tropical sun’s intense heat was the first thing she noticed, an unfamiliar, aggressive light compared to the gloom she knew. Marinette squinted, protecting her eyes from the light.
Her hands shook a little as she looked down. She anticipated the rough, adhesive feel of the hoodie, stained with the Parisian grime and frantic escape sweat. Rather, her fingers grazed against cool, clean cotton.
A white robe.
Clean.
Soft.
Two days? Has it really been that long?
The blank space in her mind was frightening. Her last memory was the wind on her face as she held onto Goliath’s fur.
And before that…
Adrien.
A sharp, phantom pain shot through her chest.
The image of him, a fabricated senti-being, nearly made her collapse.
It was too cruel.
Paris’s destruction was a nightmare; the loss of the boy who was once the sun was personal, intimate, and final.
She swallowed with a gulp, the air tasting of salt. The silence was broken by the ocean’s dull roar, rather than the city’s screams.
Marinette moved the blanket. Her body ached, a chorus of pain from shoulders to calves, after a battle she’d failed. But when her feet hit the cool wooden floor, her exhaustion vanished.
She was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She had been Multi-Mouse.
She had survived as the Vermin Queen.
“I’m broken,” she told the empty room, her reflection showing messy blue hair and eyes framed by dark, bruised circles.
But I am not finished.
She cinched the robe’s sash, turning it from comfy clothes to armor-like. She was unaware of Damian’s location, yet she wouldn’t stay hidden any longer.
She moved the divider, the rigid, light sinamay fabric scraping her fingers. The light wasn’t direct, but a soft, ambient glow from the limestone.
The man from her hazy arrival memories stood there serenely still.
“Ravi... morning?” she stammered.
Damian’s servant, the blind monk, turned his head towards her voice. His expression was gentle, yet unreadable. “Perhaps you had a good night’s sleep, My Lady?”
Marinette pressed her temple, attempting to center herself. “Oui... Yes, I had, thank you. For last night.” She paused, scanning the empty space around him. “Where’s... Da-Damian?”
With practiced grace, Ravi turned, his cane lightly tapping the stone floor. “Follow me, My Lady.”
They left the guest hut. She was startled to find they were in a massive sea cave, not outside.
The hut stood above a raised limestone shelf, with a giant seawater pool dominating the cave. Light streamed in from a ceiling opening, lighting dust motes.
Ravi led her down carved stairs to the water, where a dark shape loomed.
It was a submarine, but not the kind she knew from the Justice League.
The vessel, a relic, extracted from the deep sea during a harsher era.
Its exterior, a mix of steel and black plating, showed marks of deep pressures and long journeys.
The object was like a sleeping giant: large, industrial, and marked with the light, white scrapes from hitting coral reefs.
The cave’s silence was broken by the quiet hissing of the ballast tanks. It was a machine built for survival, not comfort.
“Master Damian is below,” Ravi said, gesturing with his cane toward the open hatch of the submarine’s conning tower.
Marinette descended into the lower level, her plain white dress flowing. Though still haunted by the trauma of Paris, she steeled herself, needing to speak with Damian. Their focus was on the phone, a device they loathed, yet it held key intel on the Leviathan organization.
As the heroic, akumatized Vermin Queen, she had quickly reviewed the information. Dozens of her clones employed their mental capabilities to decipher research, uncovering damning evidence, hidden plots, and identities. She had gathered it all, seeking complete knowledge of the world domination plan and the locations of the lost artifacts necessary to summon the void kwami.
The constant stream of data she’d stored had worn her body down. Knowing this was her only bargaining chip, she needed Damian to assist her with her revenge and her training, which would allow her to find her best friend, Alya.
She stopped thinking and placed her hand on her chest as the submarine’s main hull appeared.
Seated at the antiquated tech radar base, Damian worked the computer, its technology illuminating him with a red glow that highlighted his olive complexion and Adonis-like jaw; she was struck by how incredibly attractive and dangerous he was, and she fought to contain her blush.
She let out a squeak.
“Tt, it’s good you’re awake.” How do you feel?With a furrowed brow, Damian looked at her and gently urged her on.
“I’m okay, Damian,” she said, stretching her arms and feeling the ease of a good night’s sleep.
”That’s good to know, we had much to talk about and plan. Take a seat.”
Damian indicated the other console seat, angular and purely tactical, and she sat, shoulders stiffening.
Damian starts, his voice steady and clear. “After the Leviathan Attacks, the magical barrier fell, and the Miraculous secrets were revealed, allowing Leviathan to use the confusion to craft a confusing and destructive image, utilizing Null Monarch to personify the villain group, ultimately obscuring their real purpose.
The Justice League has been notified, and they’re leveraging this to muddy the waters surrounding the miraculous sect. Paris was no longer safe for anyone connected to the kwamis, heroes, victims, or Hawkmoth’s secret identity.“ He stated, his voice filled with grim determination.
Marinette chimed in. “So the entire world knows we messed up. The villains are successful. Ladybug disappeared, Chat Noir is deceased, and Chrysalis... No, Maya made the ultimate sacrifice, destroying the Lazarus Pit to provide us with a second opportunity.”
Marinette clutched the white cloth, her hand rough, and felt the pain and sorrow of losing Adrien. But she stares at the Wayne heir, her gaze firm.
“The phone, my phone, contained all the data the Leviathan was after. Marinette, tell me where you put the phone? For two days I searched, not within your meagre belongings?”
Marinette froze, her voice trembling as she blurted out, “Wait, you were looking at my body?” naked? You..You,” she said, her finger pointing accusingly at his reddened face.
Damian said, his voice flat, not dignifying the accusation with a response. “Enough of your rambling, tell me the truth, Dupain-Cheng, where is the phone?”
Marinette, forgetting her embarrassment, steeled herself, a small smile appearing, “Damian, about the phone, I may have destroyed it…Pulverize it, shatter the chip, erase every trace of it. Oops, sorry.” Her smile was blinding, and the mocking words dripped from her lips.
“Goliath's Beard!”
“What in the nine hells, woman? Why did you do that?“ Damian was furious, and his face became flushed with rage as he stood up, his body trembling, knuckles white, a dangerous look in his eyes.
“Wayne Heir, what are you going to do now? Yes, I did that, I know Lila….Maya. Once I return the phone, you will get rid of me.
If she were your sister, what assurance is there that deceit isn’t a family trait, given your admission of coming from a family of villains? I may as well have just swallowed the entire phone to keep it safe in my stomach.”
With her everlasting rage, she proclaimed her refusal to be a damsel in need of rescue and to be manipulated, their schemes no longer taking place in Paris. She had to be there at the moment of Leviathan’s downfall.
To find her friend, she had to be there; it was crucial for her to be involved, or the sacrifices of Maya, Adrien, and Alya would have been pointless.
She’s missed the chance to escape and go back to Paris.
Already embedded in the high-stakes revenge deception they were crafting, she was becoming the centerpiece, destined to be the most significant and sought-after mind across the globe.