Chapter Text
Alya: Sorry girl, but I’m sick :( no birthday party this year i think
Marinette: Oh, Alya I’m sorry! Need me to get you anything? Maybe we can hang out once you’re better :)
Alya: Thanks, but Nora’s taking care of me. Sure, after school?
Marinette: OK! Feel better soon!
Things were going well. Marinette had gotten up early for once, and was heading to school well before her usual time. She gripped Alya’s present in her hands - her poor friend had been too sick to celebrate her birthday the weekend before, and she hoped Alya had made a quick recovery so they could celebrate later.
She was on cloud nine walking up the steps into DuPont, and not even a grimace from Chloe slowed her down.
The blonde settled for standing in her way instead.
“What do you want, Chloe?”
“You might not want to go to class, Dupain-Cheng. I mean it. Your ‘friends’ are gonna hurt you so-”
“My friends are my friends, and whatever you have to say I don’t believe it.” Marinette said fiercely, and she took off up the stairs before the girl could respond.
Chloe stared at her retreating back and shook her head, sending a silent apology her way.
She’d tried.
As Marinette neared the classroom, raised voices made their way down the hall.
“That wasn’t kind, Alya!” Adrien?
“I don’t care, she deserved it!”
“Alya!” Nino sounded a little shocked, and Marinette paused just outside the door, looking in.
Alya sat with her arms folded, glaring at Adrien, whose back was to her but he sounded upset.
“Marinette didn’t deserve to not be invited to your birthday party! You told us she didn’t want to come!” Adrien scolded her, but Alya appeared to be paying little attention.
Marinette’s heart dropped to her feet, hands gripping her gift tightly.
“She’s a bully, and a liar! After everything she’s done to Lila, she deserves it.”
“ I’m a liar?!” She can’t contain her shout, and forcefully pushes open the classroom door.
Alya sneers in her direction.
“Yeah. You. You’re just like Chloe. A liar, and a bully, and a fraud.”
Each insult felt like ice in her chest, but the anger bubbling inside won out.
“Funny,” She says coldly, “Coming from the girl who told me she was too sick to celebrate. Funny, coming from the girl who lied to everyone about why I wasn’t at your party. Funny, coming from the girl who demands people check their sources without looking for any of her own.”
Alya glares, Adrien glancing wildly between the two.
“This again?” Alya spat, “Just because of your stupid, stalkerish crush you destroyed everything good. You deserve to be alone!”
With hatred in her eyes, Alya stalked to Marinette and ripped the present from her hands, tearing off the paper and scoffing at the gift inside.
An orange and white scarf, with modified mittens that would let her use the touchscreen on her phone for the incoming cold weather.
Marinette had been working on it for months, carefully restitching the mittens to make them match the scarf perfectly.
And she could only watch as Alya ripped them apart.
Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes and she turned and sprinted from the classroom, ignoring Adrien’s panicked shout, Ms Bustier’s confused call, all of it. She collapsed in a bathroom stall, and sobbed.
She never noticed the butterfly land in a stray strand of wool she gripped in her hand.
Revealer, I am Hawkmoth.
She stumbles out of the stall, hands bunched in her hair.
She doesn’t notice Tikki trying to calm her down. Doesn’t see the fear in the Kwami’s eyes, nor the regret when she removes the earrings and flees.
… So called friends abandoned you. A friends advice has led you astray.
Right. He was right. None of this would have happened had she not listened to Adrien. He was right.
But she couldn’t give in!
Why fight, Revealer? They have proved their ugliness, why not make them see it for themselves?
I just want to help you, Marinette.
She grips the sink with both hands, staring at the purple outline on her face in the mirror.
“...Help..?” She whispers, uncertain, looking down at her shaking hands, and the presence in her mind is reassuring, confident.
Look at them. Let me help you.
She glances back at the mirror, and her reflection starts to morph.
Lila. A sly grin on her face and victory in her eyes.
She told you she’d take everything from you, and look what’s happened now.
Alya. Cold and harsh, hands tearing the seams she’d worked so hard to perfect.
Betrayal. It stings, doesn’t it?
…. Adrien. Calm and apathetic, removing himself from the equation.
Abandonment. How callous.
Why defend them any longer?
Let me help you get back what you deserve. All I ask in return are the Miraculous of Ladybug and Chat Noir.
Yes. Why should she defend them? Everything they did, every way they hurt her comes flooding back into her mind, and her body stills. She stares at her tear-streaked reflection, and narrows her eyes.
“Yes, Hawkmoth.”
As purple light envelopes her, she smiles.
Let’s see how Paris fares without its Lady Luck.