Chapter Text
As soon as night falls, Adrien boosts himself out of his window. He had been waiting all day for the curtain of darkness, and now that it has arrived, he will take advantage of it to cloak his escape.
He has stuffed pillows underneath his blanket to create the illusion of his sleeping form. Perhaps it might not matter much; the maids will certainly discover his absence within moments of sunrise. It felt good to do, though — what some might consider his last act of rebellion.
A hastily scrawled apology letter rests on his bedside table, where it will surely be discovered and then hopefully passed on to its intended recipient. Not to his father, but instead to his betrothed.
Adrien had considered leaving his father a goodbye note, perhaps containing an explanation of sorts, but ultimately he decided against it. There is a higher chance that his father will simply tear the note to shreds rather than read it. Adrien hopes his disappearance will provide all the explanation he needs.
The goodbye note is for Chloé; Lady Bourgeois as she is known to others, Chlo as she is known to him. Since their shared childhood he has been honored to call her a friend, but something more is something that he cannot fathom. Neither can she, for that matter — it is no secret that their betrothal was an act conceived by both of their parents and out of no true love.
If Adrien is being honest, he can certainly muster up affection for Chloé. Quite a lot of it, in fact. But what he cannot feel for her is love, and he refuses to be locked into a loveless marriage, no matter how many threats and coercions he must face from his father.
For so long after the engagement was announced, he had felt hopeless. Every time he begged and pleaded with his father, he was merely sent back to his room. There had been no other choice, not to nobility like him. Not until he had journeyed down to the market last week.
He had collided with someone, a cabin boy. The boy had apologized profusely, for fear of being lashed, but Adrien quickly put that thought out of his mind. In place of an apology, he demanded an answer from the boy.
"Why are you a cabin boy?"
At first, the boy seemed confused. "Got to feed my family, my lord. There ain't nothing more to it."
"But why on a ship?" Adrien asked. "There are dozens of other jobs you could do, are there not?"
The boy had gotten such a fond look in his eye then that it had Adrien feeling wistful. "There are, my lord," he acknowledged. "But none called to me as the sea did. When I'm on the water, I can go anywhere, do anything. Ain't nothing stopping me."
That conversation had stuck in Adrien's head and promptly made itself at home. Try as he might, he could not stop himself from glancing out the windows of the manor, eyes tracing the path the ocean carved on the horizon. If he is to escape, if he is to be free, then why not run to the ocean, the epitome of freedom?
Its crashing waves and rolling winds answer to no one, and neither shall he from now on.
In preparation for his escape, he had cloaked himself in the most inconspicuous clothes he could find: a tweed shirt and pair of trousers, filched from the gardener. Even though he left a handful of gold coins as payment, he could not help but feel guilty.
Now, those same clothes catch on the windowsill as he swings himself up and over it. His window is high off the ground, and he lands in the grass with a muffled yelp. Immediately, he presses his hand over his mouth to silence any other sounds. If the groundskeeper finds him here, then she will surely alert his father.
After a moment, when he is certain no one is coming to find him, he allows himself a single breath of relief. Now, his only destination is the sea.
The night is cold, and wisps of icy wind skate past, easily penetrating his thin clothes and chilling him right down to the bone. Adrien pays it no mind; the broad smile on his face is enough to ward off any cold.
He is free. An incredulous laugh bubbles up within him, the mere thought of freedom sounding too good to be true.
He dances across the grass, skips over the dirt, and weaves through empty market stalls until he reaches the docks. Even this late, the water is still beautiful. Moonlight reflects off the surface, sending sparkles over every drop it touches. Crouching down near the edge, he reaches down and swirls his hand through the water.
It is cold, so cold and so wet, but to his fingers, it might as well be liquid gold.
Now the problem arises. It will not be easy to get a job aboard a ship, at least not in this city. Adrien's father is known by everyone, and by extension, he is as well. No doubt when morning comes and Adrien is discovered to be missing, his father will offer rewards in exchange for his return. No one will risk crossing him; crossing Lord Gabriel Agreste is akin to signing your own death sentence.
Adrien's gaze slides across the numerous ships docked at the harbor. Almost all of them look empty; their crews must be spending the night in town. Slowly, an idea comes to mind.
He can sneak onto a ship, can't he? His eyes land on one ship in particular toward the end of the line-up. It is large, almost the size of his entire manor, and it is tucked away in a little cove formed by the rocky shelf of the land. A ship that large is bound to have a crew just as big. It should not be hard to blend in, to go unnoticed.
Perhaps he will be caught, but if there is anything that Adrien is good at, it is going unnoticed. Years of attending social functions with his father have all but perfected his skill. He can find a corner to hide in, and the next city the ship docks at, he will disembark and start a life there. Every inch of his body sings at the thought of an adventure like that. In fact, what is stopping him from traveling from city to city until he finds one that suits his fancy?
Before he has even finished that thought, his feet have already begun to take him toward the ship. The ship’s flag is not raised, and though there is not anyone on board, the gangplank is still down. Adrien wishes he knew a bit more about ships, at least what the parts are called. His father would have called learning about such things uncouth; only common folk need bother with things like that. With not even a copper to his name anymore, perhaps Adrien could count himself as common now.
He wonders what his father would have to say about that.
Once he is closer, Adrien marvels at how large it truly is; he has to crane his neck all the way back just to catch a glimpse of the mast. It reminds him of the stories that his mother used to tell him when he was young.
What kind of skill must it take to sail a ship like this, to have something this enormous under your control? The captain of this ship must be skilled beyond words.
Adrien tiptoes on board the ship, wincing when the wooden deck creaks and groans beneath his feet. At least the sound of the waves drowns out any sound he makes that might be heard from land. He pokes his head in every doorway and opening he finds and eventually stumbles upon what must be the cargo hold, hidden behind a hatch. It is too dark to see anything once he is inside, and he stumbles over boxes and crates of all sizes. Eventually, he manages to make it to the corner of the hold relatively unscathed. The crates here are big, large enough to block him from view if anyone were to glance inside. With his back to the wall, Adrien slides down onto the floor, arranging himself so that he is covered.
He curls up into a ball to keep himself warm. By now, the adrenaline from his escape has faded, and exhaustion rears up to take its place. Try as he might, Adrien cannot stop his eyelids from drooping, and he is asleep in a matter of minutes.
When Adrien wakes, it is to the sound of muffled voices and soft footsteps. His eyes fly open, and it takes a moment for the events of the previous night to return to him.
He had slept surprisingly well for being curled up and hidden behind a load of cargo. Experimentally he stretches, wincing as his cramped muscles cry out in protest.
The crew is back, that much is certain. Adrien stands up, stumbling in the process. The ship is swaying beneath his feet, he notes with a giddy sort of joy. They have already set sail.
More than anything, Adrien wishes he was up on the deck, looking out at the vast expanse of the ocean and feeling the salty sea air on his skin. All it takes is a reminder of where he is to turn him off of that idea; it would surely be the quickest way for him to get caught.
His curiosity will not settle, though. It demands to be satiated, and so he must make do with what he has.
The cargo hold is by no means uninteresting, as he quickly discovers. The boxes hold food, yes, but also coins of gold and silver, cloths of fine silk, figurines of jade and ivory. Adrien’s eyes sweep over it all consideringly. Even his father would be impressed to see all of this, and rightly so. Though he cannot help but wonder, how did a ship of simple sailors find exotic treasures such as these?
He continues his search of the room and its other contents. All the other boxes contain more of the same, except for one; curiously enough, it contains an assortment of masquerade masks, in all different colors and styles. The sight of them stirs some kind of memory in the back of his head. There is something significant about these, but he cannot recall what.
As he attempts to puzzle over it, he is broken out of his musings by a sound that sends cold fear through him: the sound of the hatch to the cargo hold opening. Someone is coming.
There is no time to hide. He is all the way across the room from the corner he was originally hiding in. The only thing he manages to do is grab one of the masks and fit it over his face. At the very least, if he can keep his identity a secret, then his father will not discover where he is.
A man opens the cargo hold and steps through, before stopping in his tracks upon seeing Adrien there. Adrien, too, remains silent. There is no explanation he can give, and he will not insult the other man by attempting to fumble through one.
"Oh," the man says, voice devoid of any kind of anger or suspicion. "Sorry, I didn't know there was already someone down here."
Adrien stays frozen in place, akin to being stared down by a wild animal.
"Did Captain send you to grab the potatoes?"
This man also has a mask covering the top half of his face, green to Adrien's black. Adrien's breath catches in his throat. Is it possible? Has this man mistaken Adrien for a member of the crew?
He simply nods without saying anything.
“My bad,” the man says. “Hey, well I’m already down here. What do you say we split it? I’ll take the potatoes to the galley, you go tell Captain the job’s done?”
Adrien nods again. Should he say something? Or should he remain silent?
In the end, he is saved from having to make the decision. The other man does not even wait for an answer; he hefts the box of potatoes into his arms and leaves as quickly as he had arrived.
It takes a full minute for Adrien to regain control of his legs. What should he do now? He knows how to swim, but there is no chance that he will be able to jump overboard and swim for shore. There is nowhere to go, and now that he has already been discovered, he cannot continue to hide out here in the cargo hold. He does not want to admit it, but the best way for him to blend in would be to do what that man said and go report to the captain.
Tentatively, Adrien steps through the hatch and onto the ship's deck, squinting against the brightness of the sun. The deck is surprisingly empty; everyone else must be below deck. Taking advantage of the lack of people, Adrien walks over to the edge, looking out at the expanse of the ocean. It is so blue that it hurts his eyes in the best way possible. He inhales deeply, the salty air making his head spin. This is every bit as wonderful as he thought it would be — better, even.
"Well, look at you," a female voice says. "You've already got your sea legs back, huh?"
Adrien turns to find a woman approaching him. An orange and white mask sits on her face. It is still unclear to him whether the masks symbolize a hierarchy of any kind; is there some kind of greeting he needs to give?
The woman does not look at him, though. Her gaze is drawn by the ocean.
"It's beautiful," she murmurs. "I mean don't get me wrong, the treasure is nice too, but this is enough to make it all worth it, you know?"
Adrien nods dreamily. She cannot possibly know how he interpreted that, but she is right: just this view is enough to have justified his escape from his home.
"So where are you headed?" the woman asks.
He hesitates. "I need to report to the captain."
She gestures over her shoulder. "Captain's in her quarters," she says. "She's kind of in a mood, so good luck."
Adrien nods, and with a long backward glance at the ocean, he walks to the door that the woman had indicated. Before he can go inside, though, something catches his eye. The ship’s sail is up, and above that, high above Adrien’s head, a flag flies. Red with black spots, it blows in the wind like a beacon.
The sight of it makes Adrien’s blood run cold.
There is a ship captain that people in town have spoken about. Servants in the manor traded hushed whispers, and children who heard the story would lie awake at night. She is said to be as beautiful as she is terrifying. She captains a band of pirates, who all wear masks to cover their identity. People have speculated whether she is even real or merely a legend, but there are a few brave men who claim they have fought her and somehow lived to tell the tale. The fiercest captain on the seven seas, and Adrien has the misfortune of ending up on her boat.
He is on Ladybug's boat. He has snuck onto Ladybug's boat and pretended to be a part of Ladybug's crew and now...now he has to report to Ladybug's cabin.
The masked woman had said the captain was in a mood. Adrien lets out a shaky breath, hesitantly pushing open the door to the ship's lower decks. If Ladybug is truly as fierce as they say she is, then Adrien has made a grave mistake.
The inside of the ship is somehow even vaster than the outside suggested. Adrien finds himself in a long hallway, surrounded by doors on every side. He might not know much about ships, but he can guess what lies behind some of them. The masked man had said he was taking the potatoes to the galley, so that must be behind one of these doors. Others are most likely the crew's quarters, and that means the door at the very end of the hall must lead to the captain's quarters.
With each step he takes, the wood creaks beneath his feet, as if warning him to turn back. He considers it, but he is already in the belly of the beast. It is too late to turn back now.
He swallows before rapping his knuckles against the door.
"Come in," a voice says from inside. It sounds surprisingly soft.
Adrien does as told. The captain's quarters are quite impressive, easily rivaling the size of his own room back at the manor. He scans the room, purposefully taking his time before his eyes finally come to land on the captain herself.
Captain Ladybug is seated behind a wooden desk. A red and black spotted mask covers the top half of her face, and her lips are painted a deep red. Shiny black hair is woven into a long braid that falls down her back. Adrien is unable to breathe; he does not think he has ever seen such a beautiful woman in all his life. Even when his father dragged him to events, the ladies of the nobility never had this effect on him.
The other members of the crew might not have recognized him, but will Ladybug? Does she know her crew's identities behind the masks they wear?
Ladybug does not even look up at him; her focus is on a sheet of paper in her hands, which she studies with rapt attention.
"Yes?" she asks softly.
Adrien hesitates. If he is to speak, his high-class breeding will give him away in a second. Admittedly, he has not spent much time around sailors, and even less around pirates — certainly not enough to understand and imitate their style of speech.
“The potatoes have been taken to the galley, Captain,” he says, pitching his voice a half step lower.
Now she looks up at him. Adrien is pinned in place by her eyes, blue like the ocean, and just as enthralling. “I thought I asked Carapace to do that.”
“He did,” says Adrien, committing the name to memory, “but he asked me to come report to you.”
Ladybug’s eyes travel over the length of him before they come to a stop at something near his waist. She is looking at his hands, he realizes, though for what reason he does not know.
She does not say anything in return, and Adrien can feel himself begin to panic.
“I’ll go finish up the rest of my work,” he says before turning to exit the room. Making a hasty retreat might be the only way he can get out of this alive.
Right when his hand closes on the doorknob, though, there is a loud thud, and Adrien flinches back to see that a knife has embedded itself in the door, hardly a hair's breadth from the tip of his finger.
“I don’t think so,” says Ladybug. “Not until you tell me who you are.”
“Captain, what do you mean? I—“
A second knife is thrown his way, closer than the first.
“Turn around,” she commands.
Adrien obeys like a puppet on a string. He does not know when she has gotten up from her chair, but she stalks around her desk, predatory and graceful. Unconsciously, he backs up until his back hits the wall.
“I’m curious, what exactly is a nobleman doing aboard my ship?” Her blue eyes harden, truly as merciless and unyielding as the ocean itself.
Adrien swallows. “How did you know?” he whispers.
Ladybug’s fingers close around his wrist, and she pulls his hand up so that his palm is facing the ceiling. Her grip, unlike her tone, is gentle. “Your hands are smooth,” she says. “These are not the hands of a sailor.”
The words bubble up within him. “You mean a pirate,” he retorts.
Her red lips turn up at the corners. “Perhaps,” she says, dropping his hand. “But I’m not the one who has snuck onto a pirate’s ship. And masquerading as one of my crew? Clever, I’ll admit.”
Despite the situation Adrien is in, the compliment warms him ever so slightly. He does not remember the last time he received one.
“Now,” she says, “what shall I do with you?”
“Well,” says Adrien, trying hard to hide his fear. “You could always safely drop me off at the nearest city and we can go our separate ways.”
Ladybug laughs at that, full and throaty. “I could,” she acknowledges with a tip of her head. “Or I could kill you where you stand.”
“You could,” he parrots back. “But I would be eternally grateful to you if you did not.”
“And what does your eternal gratitude entail?”
Adrien hesitates. “Whatever my lady wishes it to,” he says.
Something in Ladybug's face changes at that. She steps back so that he is not as cornered against the door, but still he does not dare to move.
"I am no lady," she says in a tone that leaves no room for arguments. "Now tell me, why have you snuck aboard my ship? Are you an idiot? Or just suicidal?"
"Certainly not the second," he says, "and I like to think I am not the first."
Ladybug looks as though she is trying not to laugh.
"I was running away from home," Adrien says honestly.
Her eyebrow cocks. "And what reason does a noble have to escape his life?"
"I — I did not want to be married." For some reason, he finds himself afraid of what her reaction will be. He is no stranger to how nobles are viewed by others; being married off against his will is nothing compared to the problems that the rest of the world has.
Ladybug's expression softens ever so slightly. "And you thought you could seek escape on my ship," she says.
"I did not know it was yours; only that it was big and I thought I could stay aboard undetected."
She seems to be thinking it over. At any rate, she does not look angry. Adrien hopes that means she will not kill him.
"So what is it you seek? You wish to be left at the next city we dock at?"
Hope squeezes at Adrien's heart. "You...you will not kill me?" he dares to ask.
Ladybug hums. "Lucky for you, I'm not in the mood to kill today," she says.
There is a certain kind of mirth to her words, just enough that Adrien gets the impression he does not fully understand what she means. Nevertheless, he is grateful.
"If you are to stay on my ship," she continues, "you will work. I can permit a stowaway, but not a freeloader."
"Yes, of course," Adrien says immediately. "Anything."
Ladybug looks at him consideringly. "Come with me," she says. "If you are going to be part of the crew, I'll introduce you to them."
He edges out of the way so that she can open the door. Confidence bleeds into every one of her footsteps. She walks like she owns the ship — well, she does, and it shows. Ladybug leads him out onto the deck again. It is still empty, though not for long. She puts two fingers between her lips and whistles, a shrill piercing sound that cuts through the air and makes Adrien's ears ring.
Clearly, this is some kind of signal. The sound of voices and footsteps come from the door, and within the blink of an eye, the members of the crew stream out onto the deck to stand before their captain. Adrien's eyes widen at the sheer number of people on board. Their eyes keep darting his way, curiosity in their gazes.
The woman in the orange and white mask that Adrien spoke to earlier stands a bit in front of the rest of the crew, just enough that it hints at some kind of hierarchy. Now, she carries a parrot on her outstretched arm.
"Captain," she says, addressing Ladybug. "I think Tikki missed you. She's been restless all day."
A smile graces Ladybug's lips, and she allows the parrot to fly forward and onto her shoulder. She looks every bit what Adrien expected a pirate captain to be. The parrot, Tikki, fluffs up her feathers, evidently pleased to be back in her mistress's company.
"We have a new development," announces Ladybug, addressing her crew. "It seems a stowaway has snuck aboard."
The crew breaks out into whispers, now watching Adrien openly. He shifts in place.
"We gonna make him walk the plank?" a short woman in the back pipes up.
Ladybug shakes her head, making Adrien subtly sag in relief. "I think he could be useful," she says. "It still stands to be seen how much, of course."
He cannot even find it within him to be offended.
"Who's gonna be in charge of him?" another speaks up. Adrien recognizes him as the same man he had met in the cargo hold.
"Funny you should ask, Carapace," says Ladybug, smirking. "You can do the honors. I heard you talked to our illustrious guest and didn't even recognize him as a stowaway."
The man, Carapace, looks suitably chastised but does not argue. "Of course, Captain," he says.
Snickers travel through the crowd.
"Where will he stay?" the woman who was holding the parrot asks.
Ladybug taps a finger to her chin in thought. "Rena, is our other stowaway still below deck?"
The woman nods. "Still won't talk to any of us," she says. A mischievous look crosses her face, fox-like. "Though I think he could do with a roommate."
"Perfect. Take him there, then. You're dismissed."
At those words, the crew disbands, all returning to where they presumably were before.
"Wait, Captain," calls Carapace. "Does our newest member have a name?"
Ladybug turns to study Adrien, eyes catching on the black mask still on his face. "He does," she says. "How do you feel about the name Chat Noir?"
He thinks he is catching on. Everyone in the crew seems to have some kind of code name, and if he is to be one of them, he will need one as well. Truthfully, he is still so nervous he hardly registers the new name he has been given.
"I like it, Captain," he says.
She smiles. "Alright, then," she says. "From now on, you are a member of my crew. I expect that you work hard and give me as few reasons as possible to throw you overboard."
Adrien, or Chat Noir, as he has now been dubbed, does not know what proper pirate protocol is for addressing a superior. Should he nod? Salute? None of those seem quite right.
Instead, he bows low and sweeping. Thankfully, Ladybug does not look angry. Instead, she giggles: a light pretty sound like a peal of bells. Without another word, she disappears behind the door, and Adrien is left staring after her.
Carapace approaches him hesitantly. "Hey," he says. "Sorry about before. I, uh, still have some trouble keeping track of everyone in the crew."
Rena laughs. "That's an understatement," she says, walking up to the both of them. "But maybe I shouldn't be laughing. If Ladybug knew that I talked to the stowaway here and didn't recognize him for what he was, she'd probably skin me alive." Her words are punctuated with a laugh that does not match what she has just said.
Carapace turns to face him. "I'm Carapace, and this is Rena Rouge," he says, gesturing at the woman.
Rena extends her hand with a flourish. "Also first mate of this lovely ship and Captain Ladybug's right-hand woman," she says.
Adrien shakes her hand. "I'm Chat Noir, I suppose."
"As far as names go, it isn't a bad one," says Rena.
"As long as she doesn't kill me, she can call me whatever she wants," says Adrien with a relieved laugh.
Carapace chuckles. "Oh, you're gonna be fun," he says. "Come on, I'll show you around. Rena, you coming?"
"I don't think so," she says with a frown. "Chat Noir's new cabin mate and I are not on the best of terms. I think I'll steer clear of him for a while." With a backward wave, she bounds away.
Adrien follows Carapace as he leads him around the ship. "So, welcome aboard the Miraculous," he says. "You already know where the cargo hold and the captain's quarters are, so I'll show you the rest. Ever worked on a ship before?"
"I've never even been on a ship before," Adrien says.
"Well, what do you think of ours so far?"
“It is amazing," he says truthfully.
Carapace laughs again. "Man, you're gonna be one of us before the day is over."
Adrien has never spent this much time with someone who talks like Carapace does, but he finds it oddly refreshing. As the two continue through the doors and hallways below deck on their tour, the feel of the ship strikes Adrien. Last night, when it was completely empty, there was a kind of peaceful stillness to it. But now, with this many people aboard, it feels almost alive, an entire city in its own right.
"What will I be doing?" he asks.
"Whatever needs to be done," comes the reply. "In all honesty, it isn't always much. Most of the time, this ship sails itself, so the rest of the crew hangs out below deck. If there is something to be done, it's usually lending a hand while sailing or fetching something from another room."
"And...my cabin mate?" Adrien dares to ask. Sharing a cabin is new to him; back home at the manor, he always had more time alone than he strictly wanted. And according to what he has heard, his cabin mate is bad-tempered and another stowaway. One man stupid enough to sneak aboard Ladybug's ship is a coincidence, but two is a tragedy.
"Oh, you'll be fine," Carapace says, paying no mind to Adrien's internal dilemma. "He's been grumpy with us, but admittedly we haven't tried to get to know him that well. Here's hoping you do better."
Carapace points out the room where most of the crew sleep, but points out that there are no more beds there, which is why Adrien will be sleeping further below deck. There is something strange in his explanation, as though he is trying to hide something. Adrien has the feeling most of the crew would object to being made to sleep with a stranger, especially one whose intentions they do not know.
Further below deck, they come to the room that has been designated as Adrien's.
"Here's your room," says Carapace. He seems to hesitate before he pushes the door open.
The room is cramped, with nothing more than a bed tucked to one side of it. Even the closets at home would not have been this small. And yet, there is not a single thing wrong with it that Adrien can find. For the first time, he has been presented with his own room, his own space. Carapace made it explicitly clear that he would have to take care of it himself, that there would be no maids sneaking in the early hours of the morning.
The opening of the door brings with it a faint hissing sound.
"Ah," says Carapace in response to Adrien's startled look. "Your cabin mate is already in here."
There is no one else in the room.
"Where?" Adrien whispers.
With a jerk of his head, Carapace gestures to underneath the bed. Tentatively, Adrien steps further into the room and crouches down. To his surprise, instead of a person, he finds an angry-looking black cat tucked into the corner underneath the bed. He glares back at Adrien with green eyes that almost seem to shine in the dark.
"A cat?" he asks a bit gleefully. He was never allowed a pet growing up, and cats have always been his favorite.
"He snuck aboard last time we were docked," explains Carapace. "Some of the crew were interested at first — Captain has her parrot, Tikki, but the rest of us don't have any pets. This one, though, seems to enjoy making life hard for us. We haven't managed to get close to him without him scratching the hell out of us. Maybe you'll be able to do something."
"Maybe." Though he has no experience with this sort of thing, it is impossible for the optimism he feels to fade out of him. Besides, Ladybug has dubbed him Chat Noir for a reason, has she not?
“If either of you is hungry, drop by the galley,” Carapace says. “Someone should always be down there even if it isn’t mealtime. They should give you something. Speaking of mealtime, it should be soon. You hungry?”
Adrien had not even thought about it; he has not eaten since before he ran away from the manor. The adrenaline coursing through his veins almost constantly since then had sufficiently distracted him from feeling things like hunger and thirst, but now they both return with full force.
“Yes, please,” he says, raising his voice so as to be heard over the grumbling of his stomach.
Carapace chuckles. “I wasn’t gonna say anything, but you’re a noble, huh?”
“Is it that obvious?”
Adrien is no stranger to how people feel about nobles. Chloé used to tell him about how jeers and taunts would follow her down the street. Even the maids in the manor would sometimes look at Adrien guiltily whenever he saw them whispering with their heads close together. And if regular people feel that way, then what about pirates?
The look on Adrien’s face must show his feelings, for Carapace rushes to reassure him.
“No worries, man!” he says with a cheery smile. “Some of the crew are nobles, too — or at least they were once. Trust me, no one’ll judge you for that.”
Adrien sucks in a breath. “There are nobles on the crew?”
It is ridiculous to even think, but some small part of him feels a prick of disappointment at that. He had thought what he did was brave, and maybe the slightest bit unique. If other nobles have had the same idea, and even have gone through with it earlier than he did, what does that say about him?
“A few,” says Carapace. “But, uh, I gotta ask you to not mention that, alright?”
“Why not?”
“The masks are for more than just identification,” he says. “When you come aboard the Miraculous, you create a new identity for yourself. For all intents and purposes, I am Carapace, even if that might not have been the name I was born with. Some of the crew might choose to share their real names, and others might not. Either way, we don’t ask.”
“So, you do not know who it is that you are sailing with?” Adrien asks.
Carapace raises his head a bit defensively. “I do,” he says firmly. “I know they’re my friends, my crewmates. I don’t need to know their names to trust them.”
“You’re right,” says Adrien, lowering his head. “I apologize, I did not mean to imply otherwise.”
The other man softens. “No, it’s alright,” he says. “It’s just that we all had our own reasons for joining this crew, you know? Some did it just for some fun, but others did it to get out of trouble, or to keep their families safe. Asking…it might just bring up some sensitive subjects.”
Adrien nods, resolving to himself to not bring it up in front of members of the crew. Though he cannot help but wonder, if the crew is made up of both commoners and nobles, then what is Ladybug? It was a bit hard to tell because of that mask of hers, but she could not have been older than Adrien himself. How does someone gain a ship, a crew, and such a feared reputation?
The captain is one mystery that Adrien knows will not leave his mind, try as he might.
“Carapace,” Adrien begins as they both begin the trek to the ship’s galley. “Everyone in the crew seems to trust each other so much.”
“We do,” he acknowledges with a nod.
“Then…why has the captain taken me in like this? She doesn’t even know me; what if I cannot be trusted?”
Carapace turns to face him. He looks as though he is choosing his words carefully. “The captain,” he says, “is an excellent judge of character. It’s not our place to question her judgment, but we almost never do. If she says you’re part of the crew, that’s all there is to it. As for her reasons, I can’t say. But what I can say is that she definitely had a reason for allowing you to stay aboard.”
Well, it certainly was not because she thought Adrien was capable. Just one look at him is enough to know that he does not know a single thing about ships; even now he has to resist the urge to stumble as the ship sails along the ocean. It might take him a while to find his sea legs, as Rena Rouge had put it.
The galley is already full of crew members. Metal benches fold down from the walls, and everyone is already seated with plates of food clutched in their hands. With a series of cheers, someone begins to pass around a bottle of liquor as well.
“Bunnyx,” says Carapace with an annoyed look on his face. “Save some for everyone else, yeah?”
Bunnyx, face hidden behind an ice blue mask, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and smirks. “Aw, come on,” she says, “like Captain doesn’t have enough to share.”
“If she was going to share, it wouldn’t be with riffraff like you,” says Rena, sticking out her tongue.
Other members of the crew join in, each swiping at the liquor bottle. Adrien is oddly charmed. He had considered the trust among the crew, but he hadn’t thought of the easy camaraderie they all seem to share. All social interactions that Adrien had his whole life were always supervised, either by family or servants. Certainly nothing like this.
A small blonde woman in a pink mask is standing behind the table doling out portions of food, the cheerful smile never leaving her face.
“Carapace! Chat Noir!” she calls enthusiastically. “Hungry?”
“Thanks, Pigella,” says Carapace with an easy grin.
They both take the offered plates before finding an empty space on the benches that Rena seems to have been saving for them. Adrien takes a moment to study his plate: the potatoes from earlier cover a majority of it, accompanied by a few biscuits and pieces of dried meat. The food is heavily spiced, more than he is used to, and a single bite sends him into a coughing fit.
Rena laughs lightly. “Hey, Tigress,” she says, addressing a woman on the bench behind them. “Can we get some water for our new friend?”
Immediately, a cup is passed his way, and he takes a grateful drink, feeling his breathing slowly return to normal. Tears blur his vision, and he blinks them away.
“Sorry, should have warned you,” Carapace says, not sounding entirely apologetic.
Adrien realizes conversation in the room has stopped entirely, all eyes looking his way. He gets the impression everyone was interested in seeing what his reaction to the food would be.
"That was — "
"Spicy?" asks Rena.
"A bit much?" Carapace offers.
" — amazing!" Adrien finishes. "I've never had food this spiced before!"
At his clear enthusiasm, heads slowly turn away from him. Perhaps they were waiting for more of a reaction; some of them look a touch disappointed.
"Perks of being a pirate," says Rena. "We can afford all the spices we want."
Adrien takes another large bite, eager to satiate his hunger. This time, he knows what to expect, and when he braces himself, it isn't as jarring as the first bite.
"I saw the treasure in the cargo hold," he mentions with what he hopes is a casual tone. "Where did you get so much?"
"Careful there, rookie," a man walking by says. He's enormous, and Adrien has to resist the urge to shrink back ever so slightly. "Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to."
"Aw, come on, Monkey," says Bunnyx with a roll of her eyes. "Like you weren't curious when you first got here."
The man, Monkey, looks suitably abashed.
"He's right, though," Rena says. "It's a good thing to keep in mind."
Adrien hesitates. "Actually, I don't want to know after all," he says.
They all laugh at that. It is the most curious feeling. Somehow, Adrien cannot help but think that they are not laughing at him, but with him.
Adrien hears the door to the galley open, and all the laughter stops as soon as it had started, only to be replaced with what can only be described as reverent murmurs. He turns to look over his shoulder, though deep down he already knows what he will see.
Ladybug stands in the doorway. She looks amused to have all eyes on her, leagues more comfortable with the attention than Adrien was.
“Don’t mind me,” she says. “I just came to get some food.”
Crew members practically fall over each other to hand her a plate; their respect for her is evident in each one of their actions.
“I’m guessing she doesn’t usually eat here?” says Adrien.
Rena snaps her fingers. “Got it in one.”
Ladybug comes over to their bench. “Room for one more?”
“For you? Always,” says Rena, moving to the side.
She climbs onto the bench gracefully and begins to eat. Eventually, the crew members begin to return to their own conversations, though they seem more subdued than before.
"So, Captain," says Rena. "What made you decide to grace us with your presence today?"
"Just wanted to see how our newest member was fitting in," says Ladybug. Her gaze slides over to Adrien, who tries not to stiffen at the weight of it. "How are you liking our ship?"
"It's amazing," he says truthfully.
She seems to find that amusing. "I'm glad you think so," she says, "but I wonder how fast your mind will change when you find out what the upkeep requires."
From further down the bench, Monkey groans loudly. "The first time I had to stay on deck for hours braiding rope. My fingers were so chafed."
"Yeah, but now you're used to it, right?" asks Pigella. "And now your hands won't ever hurt like that again!"
"Ah, Pigella, what would we do without your continuous optimism?" Rena says, smiling when Pigella giggles happily in return.
Ladybug watches the antics of her crew with a slight smile on her face. The liquor bottle is still being passed around, and it soon reaches their side of the bench.
Adrien eyes it hesitantly, before passing it along further down. He has already embarrassed himself enough with the food today. Too used to the milder taste of wine, he has no doubt that the liquor will disagree with him. Everyone else takes a sip except, he notices with a tinge of curiosity, Ladybug herself.
As they eat, Ladybug and Rena lapse into their own conversation. Adrien does not mean to, but he cannot help but overhear.
“We’ll be docking again in two days’ time,” says Ladybug.
“Just for supplies?” asks Rena. “Or…have you found something?”
“I don’t know. We do need supplies, but I could use it as an opportunity to ask around.”
Rena nods. “You know, I can always help if you need me to.”
Ladybug laughs. “Thank you, but I think you have more than enough on your plate looking after the crew.”
Adrien is too caught up in his staring to realize that Carapace has been trying to get his attention. The other man clears his throat pointedly, jolting Adrien out of his stupor. He feels his face burn and knows his cheeks must be flaming bright red. Carapace looks from him to Ladybug before giving him a knowing look.
He presses his finger to his lips, making Adrien let out a relieved sigh.