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Our Princess
The lights were off but Adrien could still see clearly by the glow of the screens and the moonbeams streaming through the windows. The hums and beeps of the monitors were muted that she could sleep and, even exhausted as she was, Marinette was still breathlessly beautiful to him. Dark hair fanned over the pillows like a crown and moonlight caressed her skin that seemed like she was glowing. The hospital gown did nothing to detract from her loveliness.
For a man who was well used to magic, there was nothing quite like the energy coursing through him now. Anxieties still whispered at the back of his mind but they were overwhelmed by the sheer knowledge of what he had now. Marinette, his Lady and love of his life, had delivered their first child. She slept with one hand – the one with the pulse oximeter clasped to a finger – gently holding the newest Agreste to her. Trust Marinette to have luck all through her pregnancy and labor, the nurses remarking how smoothly everything was going at every step of the journey. A journey that ended with one small, squish-faced little girl tucked up under the hospital gown. She squeaked and wriggled and Adrien felt his heart leap at how poignant the little noises were in the silence. Dark lashes fluttered as Marinette roused, blue eyes opening as she gave him a tired smile before tending to their little girl.
“Shh, shh, mama has you,” she cooed, pulling back the gown that deft fingers could soothe the infant even as she awkwardly went about positioning their daughter to breastfeed.
“I’ve got bad news for you,” Adrien spoke softly, resisting the urge to crowd his wife with inexperienced help.
“Hm?” Her eyes flicked up briefly before sliding back to the baby, watching as the latch was finally established.
“You’re not my Princess anymore.”
A small laugh escaped, light and musical and sweet, and Marinette’s answering grin simmered down to a softer smile. “No, I guess not.” One finger smoothed over the infant’s head; it was bald that they couldn’t say whether she had inherited sunshine tresses or midnight locks. It didn’t matter, anyway. She was perfect. “Our little princess.”
“Don’t worry,” he stood up from the couch to kiss Marinette on top of her head. “You’ll always be my Lady.”
“I should hope so,” one hand moving slowly to bop the tip of his nose. Adrien could easily have dodged but allowed her to chastise him all the same. “Any word from our parents?”
“My father hasn’t responded yet. Your parents will visit first thing in the morning. Nino and Alya will be by soon as they can.”
A furrow formed on her brow, marring her features and showing just how exhausted the young woman was. “Akuma?”
“Yeah. Just resolved, from what the news reported.” He offered up his phone that she could see the video, volume muted and subtitles streaming about Ladybird and Panther.
“I wonder if Hawkmoth ever gets tired of this game,” Marinette’s voice soft.
He smoothed the muss of hair to soothe her. “He must have some desperate wish, if he hasn’t given up yet.”
The baby released the nipple, squeaking a bit as she was burped and repositioned for sleep. The three sat in relative silence before Marinette replied, eyes soft on their little girl as fingers held a touch more firm. “I can think of a few things that he might want to wish for.”
“I know,” Adrien finding one of her hands to hold. How many nights had he worried after Marinette and their baby? What would he do if something happened to either of them? Both? The Miraculous of Creation and Destruction were ultimately being shared but, in his deepest fears, Adrien didn’t think Alya or Nino would stop him if it came to protecting this family.
A firm squeeze of his fingers pulled him from darker thoughts, spring green meeting summer blue as Marinette smiled for him. “Would you like to hold her for a bit?”
“Yes!” he nearly shouted, ever so carefully taking the swaddled child and holding her close to his melting heart.
“Skin to skin.”
Adrien hurried to comply, undoing the top buttons of his shirt that he could establish contact. It was amazing and terrifying to feel something so small in his arms, but he knew from experience that even the smallest things could be the most precious.
A nurse came by with pain medications and fresh water for the new mom, disconnecting monitors and removing the IV since Marinette was doing well. She walked Adrien through a diaper change and swaddle method with unending patience for a new father. The little girl gave a small cry and Adrien worried after her, his hands fluttering about with indecision.
“She’s just fine,” the nurse told him. “Babies are more durable than you think.”
They were left alone again with their new reality. The very air seemed different and he didn’t think it had anything to do with the hospital’s scent of sterility. Would he be a good father? He sure hoped so. He vowed so. At the very least, he knew what kind of father he wouldn’t be. Marinette would no doubt excel at motherhood, just as she did with being a wife and partner.
Would they be able to balance parenthood with being superheroes? Anxiety whispered across his mind that it would be too much, that the work would undo them when neither role could afford failure. No. They would succeed. They had always won – sometimes by the skin of their teeth – but they would continue to adapt as the need arose. Sharing the Miraculous with their best friends had been the first step, Nino and Alya unfaltering in accepting the responsibility of defending Paris. Telling the parents would likely be the next though Adrien sorely doubted the need to tell his father; Gabriel didn’t seem the type to jump in for babysitting at the drop of an akuma. Perhaps Adrien just didn’t want the man near his own grandchildren.
With the baby in the plastic basinet, Adrien helped his wife to stand, every step towards the washroom tentative but she held a determined expression the whole way, Ladybug in every way even without the Miraculous.
“Will you be okay?”
“I should be. I’ll call if I need help,” Marinette leaving the door ajar as she muscled through caring for herself as the nurse had instructed.
Adrien glanced back to the little bundle. The room was still as he watched, waiting for something to happen.
Marinette walked gingerly from the washroom, her hand seeking his as she made her way back to the bed. She paused by the basinet to look at their child and something in the expression on her face called to him like a siren. With care for her post-partum state, Adrien wrapped himself about his wife and kissed her cheek.
“You should rest.”
Marinette angled her face that her lips could press softly against his jaw. “You should, too.”
“Too many thoughts right now.”
Another kiss planted itself at the corner of his mouth. “Try. We should sleep whenever we get the chance.”
His mouth found hers for a tender moment. Gone were the fiery kisses of their initial romance, replaced now with the lingering warmth of partnership. “I’ll try.”
Marinette worked her way to the bed, careful to arrange the pillows just so as she relaxed for what would be the first of many long nights. “Sweet dreams, Chaton.”
“Sweet dreams, my Lady.”
A brief moment of silence hung in the air before her voice called out softly, “Sweet dreams, Emma.”
Emma. A name Marinette had been in love with since their teens, and one that honored his late mother’s memory.
Their princess.
How lucky they were.