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It was not often the court threw a ball open to everyone, but this was a special day. The Crown Prince was coming of age and expected to be married soon, and everyone from the nobility to the common folk was expected to show up to be in attendance. The castle courtyard would be open to all in the country who could make it.
The Prince had insisted it be a masquerade ball, mostly so that he could move around seamlessly from various rooms to visit all he could. But he was not to be alone. His best friend, and bodyguard, was to be right there with him, ensuring his safety. He didn’t really see the point.
The prince’s name and identity had been hidden from the courts for as long as he had been alive. This was due to the fact that since his mother had died when he was young, the king had any and all remaining family swept away into hiding. Since not many had seen the young prince prior to this, it was only natural that hardly anyone knew who he was. All that anyone knew about him was that he had a small heart-shaped birthmark behind his left ear and a bodyguard who never left his side.
*****
Lady Marinette sat anxiously in front of the vanity. Her best friend, Lady Alya, stood behind her, doing up her hair. They both knew that they were expected to look and be their best. Tonight could be the best night to find a potential match. Their guardian, Lord Fu, was quite adamant about the timeline of a match needing to be made, and tonight was one of the last chances the young ladies had to have a choice before one was made for them.
“Alya, do you think this is too much?” Marinette asked as her friend secured pearls in the bluenette’s hair.
“No, I think this is just the right amount,” Lady Alya shrugged in reply. “If nothing else, we can see this as our last hurrah. One last night of freedom.”
“Respectable freedom,” Marinette stated in a tone mocking the governess who often taught them.
Both were overcome by a fit of giggles.
“Here, my turn. You sit, and I will do your hair.” Marinette smiled at her friend through the mirror. They traded places quickly. Marinette was always much happier creating things and this included doing creative hairstyles for her friend. “Now, remind me again what your mask is?”
“A fox,” Alya smirked. “Honestly, I am surprised you didn’t remember. You are the one who first told me I reminded you of one.”
“I just knew that there were talks of a butterfly mask instead, so I wanted to make sure,” she stated, her tone neither patronizing nor scolding, but reminding her friend to save her sass while her hair was in another’s hands.
Marinette took the long strands of brown hair and delicately wove them into a bow on the crown of her head, giving the illusion of ears, all while letting the rest cascade down her back in gentle curls. The repetitive nature of curling and weaving the hair was soothing for her nerves. What if they really did find someone worth pursuing tonight? Would they have a chance? After all, as wards of a Lord, even with their status as ladies, they would be lucky to secure a truly good match outside of a setting such as this. And if the ones they found were below their station, it could be hard to sell the merits of such a match. No, Alya was probably right. This would simply be their last night of fun and freedom before the matching interviews started. She might as well make the most of it.
The two ladies slipped their gloves on as they made their way down to the carriage. Marinette’s red gown was delicately accented with dark black spots and finished with a spotted mask and black gloves. A ladybug for good luck. Alya was in a deep burnt orange gown with white gloves; modeled after the orange foxes that could be found wandering the manor grounds during the autumn months. A cunning creature really, and one that had always reminded Marinette of her friend.
The carriage ride was bumpy and longer than either lady’s nerves would have preferred. The sounds of music could be heard long before they came to a stop, and the smell of delicious food, no doubt made by the palace chefs, wafted along and filled Marinette with a hunger she hadn’t realized she had. The scent only intensified more as they exited their carriage.
Both ladies paused, amazed at the stunning decor around them. The usually familiar courtyard of the castle had been transformed into something otherworldly. Lights seemed to glow everywhere in the sky, no doubt placed by the court magicians. The twinkling of starlight was seen on the ground where dirt normally would have been. It was hard as marble but made no noise as one walked over it.
The alluring aroma of chocolate and sweets hit as they soon found themselves exploring a room that seemed to be dedicated solely to refreshments and dining. Neither lady could place which part of the castle they were now in, for the air was tingling with magic and glamour, and they were soon too enamored by it all to really think or care about if the room was based in reality or simply magicked there.
After having a quick cupcake, and a glass of a shimming blackened gold liquid, Marinette and Alya found themselves swept up in dancing. The bluenette laughed as she danced with partner after partner; each gentleman as polite and amusing as the next.
She glanced over at her friend. Alya was laughing and smiling as her dancing partner spun her around the dance floor. When the song ended, Marinette curtsied low to her partner. She walked to the side of the room, her cheeks flushed with heat from the exercise. Lady Alya joined her quickly, her smile and cheeks mirroring her friend’s.
“So, my dear, have any gentlemen caught your eye?” Marinette asked her friend.
“None yet, but the night is still young after all.” Alya’s eyes lit up with a gleam that was usually only reserved for the most mischievous of occasions. “Don’t look now Marinette, but I believe there is a gentleman over there who may come to ask you to dance.”
Marinette dared to sneak a glance over to the direction indicated. There stood two men, one dressed in all black with blonde hair and piercing green eyes that stood out behind the black cat mask on his face. Next to him was a man dressed in greens. A green mask covered half his face, but his dark brown eyes were still visible under the strands of brown hair that occasionally fell into his face. Both were incredibly handsome, but the blonde one had a certain allure to him that caused her breath to hitch in her chest.
“Oh,” she breathed out as she turned to her friend. “I think his friend may be looking at you though,” she whispered.
Alya smiled at her friend. Before she could reply though, the two gentlemen were there.
“Good evening ladies,” the blonde one stated, bowing.
“Good evening,” the ladies said in unison as they curtsied back.
“I couldn’t help but notice what beauty was here, and would have kicked myself all night if I did not ask for a name and a dance,” the dark-haired one stated, taking Alya’s hand into his own, and leaving a slow kiss on her gloved hand.
“My good sirs,” Alya started with bold confidence, “we both have just finished dancing. I am afraid you may have to wait for the next rotation of songs before we dance again.”
“Then a walk, perhaps?” the blonde suggested rather quickly.
Marinette exchanged a look with her friend. “A walk outside would be lovely,” she replied.
The foursome walked out to the palace gardens filled with other party-goers, with the gentlemen escorting the ladies arm in arm. Another band of musicians was out here as well, playing music that was considerably slower than the tunes played inside. The garden was full of floating lights that had cast an ethereal glow upon the plants and fountains around.
“Oh wow,” Marinette gasped, taking in the sight.
The green-eyed gentleman leaned down, whispering in her ear, “I heard the palace spared no expense for this.”
“I can tell,” she breathed her reply, barely audible.
“So my good lady, can I know your name?” he asked her.
“Only my good sir, if you tell me yours,” she returned.
She looked into his eyes. It wasn’t the face of any noble she knew of. Which meant that he was most likely either foreign or a wealthy merchant’s son, based upon his clothing quality. Either way, she felt there was little chance she would ever see him again.
He smiled to himself. Not a smile of happiness, but one more of amusement, one that whispered of a secret just out of Marinette’s reach.
“Chat Noir. You can call me Chat Noir,” he replied.
“Then you can call me Ladybug.” A playful smirk spread across her face as she answered in a similar fashion.
Marinette took one last moment to memorize the way his eyes sparkled before turning toward her friend. Alya stood giggling, while the green-clad gentleman whispered something into her ear.
“Well, my lady, would you mind taking after your friend’s example and joining me for a dance here in the garden?” Chat Noir asked.
“I would be delighted,” she answered.
The pair followed the brunette gentleman and Lady Alya towards the large gazebo where others were set to dance. A waltz was beginning to play as each couple took up position. Marinette felt her face flush at the feeling of Chat Noir’s sturdy arm around her as his hand rested at the small of her back. He led her around the dance floor, and the pair soon found themselves in their own world. One song faded into another, and Marinette found that she wanted no other dance partner. She had no idea who this man was, but as they danced and exchanged stories and pleasantries, she felt something deep in her soul tug at her. She wanted to know more about him. She wanted to hear his laugh ring out. She needed to know what made those green eyes sparkle the way they did.
She felt conflicted on if she should let her heart dare hope that he was someone she could potentially match with. Would she be so lucky? She knew from their conversations that he was a similar age to her, so the difference there would not be a hindrance, only his class. Gods above, she hoped that it wouldn’t be.
The light of the dawning sun began peaking up beyond the horizon, signaling that the night was coming to an end. With one last dance of the night, she felt Chat Noir hold her close.
“Please my Lady, give me some hint so that I may find you,” he murmured in her ear.
“I don’t want to give you a false hope that we could be something more than we are,” she whispered back.
“And what makes you think that we can’t?” he asked her.
“Because, my… guardian, has very strict standards for a potential suitor,” she answered, trying to keep her voice as steady as she could.
“Ah,” Chat Noir replied, “you are worried about my class then.”
“I-” Marinette started, but she couldn’t really say much more in protest, for it was true.
“In all honesty, Ladybug, I had forgotten class would be a factor,” he mumbled. “All my life I have been treated the same as my friend there, despite our class differences. We have lived rather… sheltered lives though, one might say.”
“Then you must not be from around here,” she stated.
“Yes and no,” he conceded. “While I am technically not from this country, I did grow up here.”
Marinette looked up at her partner’s face thoughtfully. “Well then, if I cannot guarantee a way for you to find me, can you perhaps give me a hint to find you ?”
Chat Noir chuckled. “My dear Ladybug, I think you can figure it out with a few simple clues.”
“Well,” she huffed, “what are they? The night is almost over.”
“First, I have been with my friend there all our lives. Second, you know I am a foreigner who grew up here. Now, for your third clue, you will have to wait and see.”
Marinette knew she needed to be patient but had a difficult time balancing that with her now piqued curiosity. Chat Noir spun her around to where she could see Alya dancing with his childhood friend. He had said his name was Carapace at one point during the night. She watched while Carapace spun Alya around, the two just as much in their own world as she had been all night with Chat Noir. She could tell there was something there that she was meant to see.
The song ended, and all the floating lights shifted to form a path that sparkled in the rising sun towards the carriage area, indicating to the guests that the magical night was finally over.
Alya and Carapace joined them. the four stood in awkward silence; none wanting to admit it was time to leave.
“May we escort you ladies to your carriage?” Carapace offered, clearly flustered.
“Y-yes, please do,” Alya replied before anyone could say otherwise. Not that Marinette would, she wanted to spend more time with Chat Noir if she could.
Carapace held his left arm out, linked it with Alya’s, and led the way.
“Watch carefully my Lady,” Chat Noir whispered to her as the pair followed.
Marinette watched as they walked. Carapace talking rather animatedly to her friend. He moved his free hand quite often, even brushing it through his hair. And then, there it was. While he had his long hair momentarily swept back, she could see it, a small heart-shaped birthmark behind his left ear. Could they really have been with the prince and his bodyguard the whole night? It had long been rumored that the prince’s bodyguard was actually a noble from a smaller country that had been sent here as a show of good faith. But could that really be it? Could her life have stumbled into such a fairytale? Her mind raced with possibilities of what that could mean. Before she could turn to voice her thoughts, however, they were being handed off to their carriage.
Before entering though, she turned to her blonde partner, her heart fluttering in her chest. Whether her suspicion was right or wrong, she had to do something, anything to seize her chance.
With little thought and a lot of desperation to not lose her chance, the bluenette reached out, and cupped Chat Noir’s cheeks, pressing her lips to his cheek. It wasn’t a kiss to cause a scandal, but one she hoped would pay off. The kiss was not long, but it was there, sparking something within them both.
“Marinette, my name is Marinette,” she blurted quickly. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” She had little doubt now that he would find her.
“Adrien, Adrien Agreste. Royal bodyguard.” Adrien bowed, pressing a final kiss to her hand. “I will call on you soon then, Princess.”
He helped her into the carriage, then turned with the prince to walk away.