Work Text:
King Gabriel, of course, sat at the head of the table, with Prince Adrien on his left and Queen Sabine on his right. To her right was King Thomas, and to his right was Princess Marinette.
She sat straight, as she was always trained, relieved to be out of her heavy plate armor. Her mother had done her hair in an intricate bun, and she couldn’t focus on much else other than the feeling of how her scalp was being tugged in all the directions except the one it wanted to be.
Every once in a while, though, she caught Adrien’s beautiful green eyes, and her face couldn’t help but go red.
He was a perfect gentleman, no less than he’d always been. But part of Marinette’s heart broke when he didn’t smile at her any chance he got, when he didn’t let her fingers brush against his for a moment extra as he passed her the salt dish.
She wished she could catch his gaze for a moment too long — in the candlelight, the green was so much warmer and brighter, and she wanted to remember the color forever.
“So,” Thomas said, carefully slicing the pork that had been prepared. “I've heard a lot of talk since I've been here, among your nobles. Conversations about Ladybug and Papillon? With our kingdoms allying like this, I'm worried about who's getting the short end of this stick, with all this talk of villains and vigilantes and who's who in the first place."
Marinette’s throat went dry, but she looked to King Gabriel’s face, unable to tear away. As always, he was unreadable, and he finished his sip of champagne, relishing in the flavor, before responding.
“It’s all conjecture,” he said. “You know as well as anyone that this kingdom has always been incredibly safe. Anyone who threatens us will be taken care of before they come near us."
“We know that, of course,” Sabine said. “Tom’s just trying to make conversation.”
“Of course,” Gabriel repeated, and he took another drink, looking over to Adrien. “Why aren’t you eating?”
Marinette’s eyes flicked over to him. He’d set down his fork and knife, staring at his lap, hands beneath the table.
“I’m not hungry.” Marinette was almost ready to take his word for it, but her father grabbed her hand beneath the table, leaning back slightly. The area quieted down — her shoulders tensed as she scanned Adrien’s face for something that might be wrong.
“If you’re done for the night, why don’t you and Marinette go have a walk around the courtyard? You two haven't had a private conversation for this entire trip, have you?"
For the first time, Adrien looked up at Marinette intentionally. His eyebrows raised, and Marinette couldn't read his face — eventually he gave up trying to communicate whatever it is he wanted to say, and said to his father, "That sounds wonderful. We'll be off."
The cloudless sky shone with stars, and Marinette looked up at it, fingers tracing the delicate embroidery of her dress. Her red dress — she'd worn it in the hopes that Adrien would recognize her.
Not that he ever could. The magic of the Miraculous kept her identity protected, and she couldn't risk his life the way she risked hers.
"Your chefs are incredible," she said to him. "The food was exquisite."
"I'll send your compliments their way."
Adrien only looked out over the shining pond in the courtyard. In the moonlight, his golden hair was almost silver, and his dark green tunic seemed gray.
Like a ghost, or a statue carved out of marble.
"What are they like?" Marinette asked, instead of continuing the smalltalk that Adrien seemed utterly uninterested in.
"Hmm?"
"The one you love."
Adrien's eyebrows furrowed. He began walking, following the gentle path, and Marinette grabbed his arm to walk with him, as fiancés should.
"She's very brave," he answered. "Upright. She has more backbone than most of the nobility put together." He paused for a moment, then said, "Nobility and royalty."
"Is she beautiful?"
"If I told you yes I'd have no idea if I were lying or not. I don't know if I could ever look at her and see her as anything less than the rising sun."
Marinette's face heated, despite the nighttime chill. Luckily, Adrien was only staring at the stars.
"I do hope you two can meet, someday," he said. "It's typical for the king to have mistresses, but this is not that, and it's not typical for the king to propose with a statement of how much he could never love his potential queen. So I hope your acceptance of the proposal is an act of good faith toward me."
Marinette only smiled. She had felt conflicted about the proposal at first — it was so unlike him to propose to someone when he'd sworn himself to Ladybug. Then her own letter had arrived, and...
He was honest. Genuine, even. She wanted to be with someone who was true to his own feelings, even if she could never be true to hers.
"I hope I can meet her someday, too."
"I see how much you care for your country. How involved you are, how much you give to your people. I think she'd like you. And if you put half as much into being a queen as you do into being a princess, you'll make this country better. I only hope I can live up to you."
Marinette stopped in her tracks, and Adrien did too a step later.
"You speak too lowly of yourself."
"I only speak honestly."
"Would your lover agree?"
Adrien remained silent for a moment, and then his lip quirked up slightly at the corner, the barest of shadows forming at his dimple. "She would definitely like you, Your Royal Highness."
"Oh, and to think I'd finally thought I found someone my match who wouldn't need to call me by any titles."
"They can almost seem fun when the person calling you by them isn't obligated, don't you think?"
Marinette smiled.
"I will be honest," she said, "that when I was a child, I dreamed of a marriage of love, like the ones my parents have. But like you, I hope that failing romance, we can have a friendship."
"And who knows?" Adrien said, reaching out his hand again. When Marinette took it, they resumed walking. "Maybe someday you will find love. You know I would never hold you back."
Marinette smiled as best she could.
Who knows? she thought. Maybe someday I'll be able to tell you who I am. But until then, I must only hold myself back.
