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Marinette was carefully tracing a pattern onto a gorgeous piece of cotton—deep purple, high thread count, light and smooth—when the door to the tailor’s studio swung open with its telltale squeak. She swore under her breath and carefully placed the chalk back in the dish she had pulled from the cabinet. Her master was strict about the materials and supplies his apprentices used, and he wouldn’t hesitate to take a cut of her wages to pay for chalk.
Marinette dusted her hands off on her apron and pushed the door of the backroom open, hoping it wasn’t anyone too important. “Apologies,” she said, fixing the ribbon in her hair, “Master Anatole is at dinner, so if you want—” She cut herself off as she caught Adrien’s eyes.
He grinned at her, lopsided and glowing.
She put a hand on her hip. “Oh. It’s you .”
Adrien laughed, throwing his head back a little. It made his circlet shift, no longer perfectly level on his forehead. “Yeah, just me.” He took a step closer to Marinette and craned his neck as he peered around the room. “I have to assume you’re alone in at the moment, or you wouldn’t be so blunt with me.”
“Pardon me, your Royal Highness .” Marinette dropped into a practiced curtsy, one that always felt like it needed to be followed with a sweep of heavy layers of petticoats and skirts. “How may I help you today?” She kept her eyes on his shoes, a habit she’d been taught but learned to ignore when the two of them were alone long ago. The harder part was keeping up the act when there were other people around.
The good thing was she and Adrien rarely had reason to be in the same place at once. The crown prince and heir apparent was seen by the master tailor and his most senior apprentice directly, not junior apprentices like Marinette who did the brunt work and held down shop while the others devoured a quick lunch.
Usually, staying behind tracing patterns just meant an extra copper in the week’s pay and a growling stomach, but Marinette couldn’t hide her grin when she met Adrien’s eyes.
“How did you know? We draw straws to see who has to skip lunch.”
“Got lucky.” He flicked his hair out of his eyes. “I had a note I was going to hide for you.”
She crossed her arms. “And how would I have found it? What if someone else did?”
Adrien winked at her and a piece of paper appeared between his fingers—a subtle sleight of hand she had been watching him practice for months for no real purpose that she could pin down. “That’s for me to know, isn’t it? Guess we’ll have to play that game next time.”
Marinette rolled her eyes and reached out for the note, but with another flick of his fingers, it was gone. Hidden in the sleeves of his coat again. “Oh, you’re a menace.”
“I’m your menace,” he teased.
She felt her face go hot. “Your circlet is crooked.” She moved to fix it, but Adrien darted forward and pressed a kiss to her lips, catching her by surprise and by her waist.
“Someone could see,” she chided as she pulled away, smile on her lips. She poked him in the chest. “ You won’t be the one out of a job.”
“No, that would require me being employed,” Adrien joked.
Marinette was about to shoot back a snappy retort when she heard footsteps approaching. Adrien unfastened the sword belt around his waist as Marinette’s fingers worked on the buttons of his doublet. He yanked it off, catching his sword before it hit the ground, and shoved the doublet at her. As Marinette tore one of the seams and moved to the main work table, Adrien took long, easy strides over to one of the full-length mirrors, where he adjusted his circlet and fussed with his hair.
It took just moments, and Marinette’s heart was in her throat, but she was already pinning the doublet’s right sleeve back together when the door swung open. Marinette barely glanced up from her work, almost sagging with relief when she saw it was just one of the senior apprentices. While being alone with the crown prince still wasn’t ideal, at least it wasn’t Master Anatole. Fewer questions to answer.
Irene noticed Marinette before Adrien. “What are you working on?” she asked. “I don’t recognize—”
Marinette gestured with her hand in Adrien’s direction.
Irene whipped around, skirts twisting around her ankles. She gasped. “Your Royal Highness!” As Adrien looked away from his reflection, Irene dropped into a curtsy so low Marinette was half sure one of Irene’s knees touched the floor. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were here.”
“No harm done,” Adrien promised with a smile Irene didn’t see. “I caught my doublet on a loose nail in the stable and something tore. I have some free time at the moment, so I figured I would simply have it repaired now instead of going all the way back to my chambers to change.”
Marinette rolled her eyes. It would’ve ended up here regardless, but a cover story was a cover story.
Irene glanced at Marinette. “I’ll finish that up for you, your Royal Highness. It will be just a moment.” She flapped her hands discreetly as she hurried over to Marinette.
Marinette bit back a sigh as she stepped away. She did have to follow the senior’s orders, and it would make more sense for Irene to repair the doublet, but really it was an easy task. For anyone else, Marinette would have been assigned the repair, but for Adrien—
She gave him a small curtsy, keeping her eyes on his slightly scuffed but still shining boots. “Your Royal Highness.”
She barely caught his eye, and his smirk, as she slipped away into the back room, returning to her chalk and patterns. Marinette tried not to listen when Irene returned Adrien’s doublet to him—the way Irene fell over herself apologizing for taking up so much of his time as he insisted it was no rush—and made sure each one of her cuts were careful and neat and didn’t waste a scrap of fabric.
The scraps that had to exist went into a basket for repairs.
As Marinette bent forward to grab another bolt of fabric, she heard something crinkle. Frowning, she dug into her pockets and found them empty. She patted herself down, finally finding the paper tucked between the bow of her apron.
She smiled as she unfolded it. In Adrien’s worst handwriting—he had many kinds and she knew all of them by heart—he had scrawled her a message:
My room, tonight, 11th bell -CN
Adrien tapped the end of his quill against his desk. He was never very successful at writing correspondences after the sun went down, but he hadn’t been exactly productive during the day and was trying to make up for lost time. While his father hadn’t been very keen so far on handing over duties to Adrien, the ones he did receive were taken very seriously by both parties, no matter how trivial.
It was frustrating because Adrien knew he needed to learn how to run a kingdom , which couldn’t be accomplished just by letter writing, but he took what he could get. Not that he was waiting for his father to pass, but the transition would be easier if Adrien knew how things worked and the king wasn’t getting any younger. So for now, Adrien wrote letters. Every step was another little push toward more responsibility. Toward actually doing something with his life instead of just sitting around like a pampered bird in a gilded cage.
His candle dripped steadily as he stared at the parchment. He had about half a letter written and was highly considering burning it and starting over. There had to be a more diplomatic way to word it but…
There were three sharp taps on his window.
Adrien sat up with a jerk, nearly knocking over his inkwell. He could still hear the last of the clock tower’s echo—her timing was as impeccable as ever. He had just lost track of it. Also as usual.
He shoved his papers aside, he could deal with those in the morning, and stood, barely remembering to replace the stopper of his inkwell to prevent another disaster. When he got to the window, he could see her shadow in against the night sky, the speckles of stars and the hint of a waxing moon.
Adrien unlatched the window and pulled it open, welcoming in a rush of cold fall air and the scent of cherry blossoms.
“Hello, princey,” Ladybug said with a grin. Adrien offered her his hand, not that she needed it, and helped her into his room. “You don’t look ready at all.”
Adrien sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I was distracted. Work for Father—more letters.”
Her nose wrinkled under her mask. “Still?”
He gave her a wry smile. “Always, my love.” He managed to steal a kiss before she swatted him away with a laugh.
“You royals,” she chided, “all work and no play.”
“I seem to remember inviting you out to play.”
Ladybug flicked his nose. “Go get changed, it won’t be night forever.”
Adrien smiled, but felt his heart sink. She was right, as always. The sun would rise and the day would repeat. His duties and schedule would be the same as they always were, and he would be left feeling just as unfulfilled as always. All he had were these secret rendezvous.
For now, they had to be enough.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Ladybug murmured.
“A lot to think about,” he admitted. She frowned, and he didn’t like the way that it made her forehead crease. He hated making her upset. “It’s just my father,” he said, as if that would make it better.
The crease deepened.
Adrien took her hands in his own and kissed her knuckles. “Don’t worry about me, darling, I’ll be fine.”
“You always say that,” she pointed out. “And it never gets better.”
What they’re both thinking went unsaid, but it made Adrien shudder.
“Not tonight,” he said.
“Not tonight,” Ladybug agreed. “What did you want us to do, anyway?”
Sometimes, they had plans. Other times…
“Take a break,” Adrien said firmly. “Just a little break. We could both use it.” He knew about all the little pinpricks hidden underneath Ladybug’s gloves. Tonight, before he left her, he’d kiss each prick on her fingers as she giggled. “Tomorrow we can make things better, tonight, let’s just be.”
Ladybug smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Then it sounds like someone better go get changed.”
Chat got to the roof first, but only because he had years of practice over Ladybug. Which she thought made the race unfair, but she wouldn’t back down from a challenge. She’ll never know how he got around his guards to get good enough at scaling the palace to get on the roof of the highest turrets, but he could and he could do it without grips on his gloves or boots.
Which seemed a little unfair.
“You’re getting faster, My Lady,” he said with a bright grin as he pulled her over the edge of the roof.
She stuck her tongue out at him. She loved him, but it was still a competition and she still lost. “I didn’t need your help.”
“But I’m a gentleman.”
“That’s debatable.”
Chat threw his head back and laughed. Something loosened in Ladybug’s chest. She never got to see him laugh like this around the palace. She loved every aspect of him, but when the crown sat on his head, he walked with a quiet presence and a gentle smile and locked away the louder and brasher parts of himself.
Probably necessary for the life of a politician and diplomat, but she hated it all the same. She hated that Chat had to hide parts of himself away to please others.
That was why she relished their time together as Ladybug and Chat Noir. “Two apprentices,” he had said when their identities were first revealed to each other and sent her into an utter panic. “I’m training to be a king, you’re training to be a seamstress.”
Ladybug still thought that was an oversimplification, but it hadn’t taken her long to come to terms with the fact that Chat Noir was the crown prince and heir apparent, and his Royal Highness Crown Prince Adrien was a vigilante who had a penchant for puns and attempting physical stunts that often ended with him falling off of things.
Chat sighed and stared out toward the horizon. They could see the faint lights from the city just outside the castle citadel, and Ladybug wondered who was haunting the streets tonight.
But that wasn’t their responsibility right now.
Ladybug tugged on Chat’s sleeve and pulled him down onto the roof. She just meant for him to sit, but he layed back, pillowing his head with his arms.
“Beautiful night.”
She tipped her head back to see the stars. “Yeah,” she murmured. A waxing crescent shone behind a thin wisp of clouds. “Gorgeous sky.”
Chat tilted his head to look at her. “You’re gorgeous.”
Ladybug poked him in the side and he jerked away with a laugh. “Stop it, you mangy cat!”
He propped himself up on his elbows. “But we aren’t working tonight, so I can do whatever I like.” He puckered his lips dramatically.
She swatted at his arm. “No, we’re relaxing .”
“Relaxing can involve kissing.”
“I hate you.”
“You don’t.”
Ladybug looked down at Chat. He was staring up with her with a soft smile and crickles at the corners of his eyes that the mask just barely failed to hide.
“That’s the worst part,” she said softly.
And it was. Because Chat was the crown prince and as much as she loved him, life wasn’t so simple. Even when he became king… Ladybug knew she wasn’t a permanent option. Which is why she loved him as fiercely as she could while she had the chance.
At some point, she was going to lose him.
Ladybug curled up next to Chat. He pointed up at the stars and started telling her stories, something he’d done dozens of times but somehow never got sick of. And neither did she. But she let his voice bring her to somewhere else as they laid on the soft fabric of the cloak that hid his golden hair in the darkness.
It was just supposed to be a job. Since she was in the palace, she would have access to things people needed—expensive things people could sell. And it started out simple, just an extra candle that no one noticed missing or a quill. And Ladybug would slip out during the night and sell them on the blackmarket, or gift them to friends as Marinette on her off days, knowing they in turn would sell them for her.
And then somehow Ladybug was dragged into a mini rebellion. A rebellion against her very place of work, her own employers who couldn’t keep their own people fed. They did small things, bring people food, steal from those with excess, become a legend amongst the towns and villages. Ladybug was stationed at the castle, everyone in the group knew that.
What everyone didn’t know was that Chat Noir was stationed there as well. Ladybug herself hadn’t known until one night when she was late for a meeting and she crashed into Chat on a lower roof of the castle.
It could’ve taken them months of dancing around each other. Months of guessing and wondering.
But the next time Adrien stepped into the tailor’s wing for a fitting, Marinettte and Adrien’s eyes had met, and Marinette had known . And dropped a bolt of very expensive silk. Judging by the panic in Adrien’s eyes, he figured it out too.
After his fitting, Marinette somehow found a note tucked into her apron pocket.
Second turret at the 12th bell -CN
And that had been that. Marinette was Ladybug and Adrien was Chat and at some point they stopped being separate identities and blended into one person. One person Marinette loved so much it ached. So much that she ignored badly needed sleep to spend time with him, because she never knew how much time they had left.
That was fatalistic.
That was realism.
Ladybug pressed a kiss to Chat’s cheek and he pulled her closer. “What do you want to do tomorrow?” she asked softly, not wanting to break the calm the night had drawn over them.
“Go into the city,” Chat said. “See what needs to be done.” Something always needed to be done. To be fixed. To be changed. “Make notes. Maybe bring some old jewelry I haven’t worn since I was a child and have it melted down and sold. Normal things.”
Ladybug nodded and rested her head on his shoulder. The clouds were beginning to cover the moon. “That sounds like a good plan. Notes for future you?”
“Yeah.”
She knew about the journals he kept. The things he wanted to change one day. How he wanted to make the kingdom better. How he wanted to help people . And she knew that Adrien as king, as good as that would be for everyone else, would be heartbreaking for him. Because despite it all, he loved his father. And she could never find it within herself to fault him for that.
But for now, they had this. They had masks, they had cloaks, and they had secret identities. They were vigilantes, and the king would have their heads—at least hers—if they were ever caught, but they were good at their jobs. They had to be.
They never talked about how Chat got recruited, but they don’t need to. She’s seen the way he stares at his opulent outfits in the mirror. The master tailor and senior apprentices usually take the expression as dislike and panic and start suggesting changes, but she’s learned to read it as something more. A disgust at his privilege. A horror at the waste of it all.
And Marinette loved assisting on his more extravagant outfits, but she knew the feeling. With her family’s struggling bakery and her struggling to pay off apprenticeship fees, it was impossible not to.
(Adrien had offered to help either of them multiple times, but she could never accept. Not even out of pride, but out of pure fear of what could happen if someone found out the crown prince was playing favorites. “One day,” he always promised. And Ladybug held that close, even if it could never be.)
The bell rang. Ladybug closed her eyes and counted all twelve chimes.
Even though it was mid spring, there was a slight chill up here on the turret. Curled against Chat’s side, she never wanted to leave; she could barely feel the uneven roof against her back through Chat’s thick cloak. She could sleep here forever. But she couldn’t.
“We should get back,” she said.
“Ten minutes,” Chat said.
“Two.”
“Eight.”
“Four.”
“Six.”
Ladybug rolled so she was half on top of him and grabbed his face in her hands, kissing him hard.
They leave in four minutes.
Chat waited patiently in the shadows as Marinette stashed her outfit in the secret hiding place by the servants quarters. The old castle is filled with secret passageways and hidden cubbies. Chat found most as a child, but it’s thrilling that Marinette has been able to find some of her own.
“You know,” she said, emerging as Marinette the junior seamstress apprentice once again, “you really don’t have to walk me back.”
“I am a gentleman ,” Chat insisted.
She rolled her eyes but took his hand anyway. They’ve done this enough times that they know how to avoid the guards, who would arrest Chat Noir on the spot and then… Well, Chat doesn’t know what would happen if his identity was revealed but at least he got some fun and good deeds out of it.
Luckily, he, or maybe Marinette, are good and they reach her sleeping quarters without any trouble.
“I told you I’d be fine,” she teased softly.
He kissed the back of her hand, enjoying the way she flushed all the way up to her ears. “Just had to be safe.”
“One of these days,” Marinette said, “I’ll have a room with a window.”
Chat raised an eyebrow. “And no roommate? An impressive feat, mademoiselle.”
“I’m full of surprises.” She kissed him quick as she reached for the doorknob. Chat’s insides melted into something warm. “Same place and time tomorrow?”
“Of course, my love.” He dropped his voice lower as she pushed the door open. “Waiting for you gets me through my day.”
Marinette rolled her eyes and gave him a fond smile. Chat wondered if she knew. If she knew that she did get him through the day, thinking about her and knowing that he’ll see her later. That he’ll be able to talk to her and hold her and kiss her until their lips are swollen.
If she knew that he’d been trying to figure out how to make this permanent.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered and vanished into her room.
“I’ll see you then,” he promised. And like every promise he made to Marinette, it was one he fully intended to keep.