Chapter Text
The final embers of daylight dwindled in the winter sky, and Alya knew she was in trouble. The stretch of woods before her—the closest path to the nearby village—was but a line of dark, snow-lined branches. They twisted into the air like talons, dragging down wisps of fiery sunlight that shimmered against the frostbitten ground as if trying to scorch the earth below.
In the ashes of night, there would only be danger ahead.
The old mare Alya had stolen a few towns ago gave a nervous whinny. She was a skittish thing, prone to jumping at the sight of her own shadow. Between that and the snarls in her mane, it was clear she’d been poorly cared for. As such, Alya held no remorse for having taken her. But the choice proved its inconvenience, once again, as hooves slipped against an icy stretch of ground. Only a careful tug of the rains kept them both upright.
Alya had named her Missy—short for Misstep—for a reason. But perhaps her namesake should have been “Reluctant-to-Step”, or even “Refuse-to-Step”. That seemed the case now, as her nervous trot came to an abrupt halt mere steps from the forest.
Clenching her teeth, Alya inhaled a sharp slice of winter air. Frustration wouldn’t help her now, but it was hard to remember that between her heavy, aching limbs and the dread seeping through her like poison. Releasing the reins from one of her gloved hands, Alya leaned forwards, stroking Missy’s neck and feeling herself relax into a whiff of her fur.
It wasn’t quite the musk she was used to, but it brought memories of a lifetime of sneaking out of the castle, following her father down to the stables. Of teaching the twins to ride, letting their laughter buoy her patience after Etta tried to insist she didn’t need her jacket for the fifth time that blustery afternoon. Of spending her nights atop bales of hay, pushing back twinges of worry when Nora and the other knights returned late from their evening patrol.
The one time Nora hadn’t come back.
Sitting up straight, Alya tapped her feet against Missy’s flank. “Come on, girl. We’re almost there.”
A snuffle came in response, followed by agitated pawing at the ground when Alya retook the reins. But after a little more coaxing, Missy set off towards the woods again, loose twigs crunching under her hooves as the trees’ shadows engulfed them.
The woods were thicker than expected; Missy’s gait was painfully slow, and she kept coming to sudden stops, requiring more and more prodding to continue on. Branches creaked, and tiny footsteps scurried through the bushes. Each howl of the wind seemed to carry murmurs of voices, like the forest was conspiring against her, trees closing in around her—or like her pursuit was catching up.
Up until now, the knights her grandmother had sent after her had proved more of a nuisance than an actual threat. Alya knew how to cover her trail—both from what Nora had taught her and from more recent evenings spent buried in the royal libraries, deep in research that had little to do with the tales of past dignitaries she’d been meant to be learning.
But the knights had the advantage of being warmly welcomed into every town. Wherever they went, they received the best lodging and the highest-quality meals. Alya, meanwhile, scrounged to find a place at night where her MISSING poster wasn’t tacked on the walls. Sometimes, she wasn’t able to—if there wasn’t a disreputable enough place in town. And none of her research had done anything to ease the bone-chilling cold of a night spent burrowed beneath in her coat.
But she was so close. She couldn’t give up, not now.
Not ever.
Alya had long since lost track of time—and the world had long since lost track of daylight—when she caught the flicker of a flame between the trees up ahead. It wobbled unreliably, but seemed to grow in size as she approached. And as she closed her eyes for a moment, the lingering scents of roasted meat made her mouth water. She must be nearing tonight’s destination.
Then the trees rustled overhead, and another tangle of voices seemed to drift through the darkness. Alya’s blood ran cold. These were real voices—familiar ones, even.
Alya tugged hard on the reins, trying to turn around. But Missy spooked at the abrupt change in direction, whipping her head from side to side as she scrambled for better footing. And just before Alya could tighten her grip, the horse rose up on her hind legs with a shrill cry, and Alya slipped from the saddle.
She landed hard, the impact slicing through her like a knife to the back; it knocked the breath from her lungs, left her gasping as she scrambled to her feet. She’d only made it to her knees when Missy touched back down, and with a spray of snow behind her took off into the woods.
“No!” Alya cried, not caring if she was heard. Her pack was still strapped to the horse’s back, holding the rest of her spare coins and her only change of clothes.
She tried to run after the horse, but Alya was no match for her frantic dash—especially as she still fought to catch her breath, as the night seemed to reach out and drag her into its clutches. The corners of her eyes burned, and she hastily wiped away a tear of frustration.
So what if she’d lost her supplies? The village couldn’t be much farther.
It took all of one step before she slipped on a patch of ice, and she bit back a cry as she steadied herself against a nearby tree.
Fine. She’d just have to be more careful.
Alya set out again, testing each step carefully and keeping her eyes glued to the ground—not that it helped much. She could barely see.
Her progress through the woods was infuriatingly slow, and she couldn’t even be sure she was still headed in the right direction. But all wasn’t lost. She’d long ago committed the maps in her now lost satchel to memory, and sneaking through the forest on foot could only increase her stealth. It was practically an advantage, at this point.
At least, that was what she told herself.
It wasn’t so easy to ignore how new fears weighed on her with each rustle of foliage. Since she’d set out on her journey, the threat of being caught—even if she thought it unlikely—had spurred her onwards. There had seemed nothing worse than the idea of being hauled back home before she even had a chance to set things right.
But there were other things out there. There were forces that even some of the best knights in the four kingdoms—even Nora—hadn’t been able to overcome.
As Alya made progress through the woods, her confidence swelled. She stopped minding her steps, letting her feet lead her deftly through a soggy patch of leaves. Her heart seemed ready to burst through her chest, adrenaline pushing her through.
Then suddenly—without warning—she was falling again.
At first, she thought another patch of ice had been the culprit. But she quickly realized something had wrapped itself around her foot—and within instants, around her whole body. A thin cord bit into her arms, burning even through the fabric of her coat, and she was unable to bite back the scream that slipped out as she was swung into the air upside down.
Her head stopped just short of whacking into a tree; it all seemed rather…deliberate. As was the way the cord slowly tugged her upwards. Someone must be holding the other end.
“Hey,” Alya hissed, squirming frantically. The cord only seemed to tighten around her. “Let me go!”
“Be quiet,” her captor whispered sharply.
Alya craned her neck upwards, catching a glimpse of hands securing the end of the cord around a branch. The wood bounced a little as the figure stood, then began scaling the side of the tree.
“Wait there.”
Any fear Alya might have felt evaporated all at once, replaced by a prickle of annoyance. Not like I have any choice.
The figure formed a smaller-than-expected shadow as she stepped onto a nearby branch. Alya wasn’t quite sure if she was about to be dragged home, or to her death. But as the sound of pounding heartbeat died down, she tuned back in to the sounds of the forest. Hoofbeats and the dull clank of armour, steadily approaching.
In a rare hint of moonlight, Alya also noted a flutter of colour in her periphery—her captor’s cape. It was a scarlet cloth, boasting black dots beneath the dappled shadows of the trees.
Ladybug.
The world narrowed in on that sliver of fabric, flapping lazily in the breeze. And maybe the blood rushing to Alya’s head was partially to blame, but she had to suppress a squeal.
Posters of Ladybug lined the walls of Alya’s room back home, no matter how many times she’d heard that wasn’t decor befitting of the second-in-line to the throne. The stories of Ladybug’s adventures—from benevolent deeds to deadly scuffles—spread through the four kingdoms like their lifeblood. Alya had always hoped to catch a glimpse of her one day, had always fantasized about inviting her into the castle, maybe bestowing some sort of award.
Of course, that wasn’t what Alya was here to do; her current plight was far more important. But exhilaration rose up all the same.
Nearly two moons of searching, and Alya had finally found her.
A gruff whisper from a few trees away ought to have sparked some new sense of fear, but Alya could only watch in upside-down awe as Ladybug crouched on her perch. A dozen scenarios flooded Alya’s mind of how Ladybug would face off bravely against all three men on horseback.
In reality, though, it was all rather anticlimactic.
Ladybug drew the blade sheathed at her waist, then leaped down with a battle cry that seemed a little unwise, not that Alya could judge her for lack of subtlety. There was a dull clang. A thud. A cry of outrage. Try as she might, Alya couldn’t catch a glimpse of the fight.
With a final, ominous, THUMP, a horse whined and barrelled off through the trees. Then Ladybug reemerged from behind the trees, sliding her sword back into its scabbard, looking none the worse for wear.
Ladybug emerged from behind a tree, clutching a torch that had somehow survived the fight. She looked Alya up and down, face unreadable in the darkness.
Anticlimactic or not, Alya couldn’t hold back her excitement. “You’re Ladybug. It’s really you! And you—how did you—I mean, that was—” She tried to gesture something, before remembering her hands were a little busy remaining bound to her side.
Ladybug smirked. “And you’re really the princess.” She sounded amused, if not quite impressed. “I thought you’d be smarter, the way they described you.”
Truthfully, Alya barely registered the barb. Thrill superceded her pride. But, out of principle, she still tried to put up an argument. “Hey! That’s not—wait. What are you doing?”
Ladybug had begun climbing back up Alya’s tree, clambering from branch to branch with…well, far less grace than Alya would have expected, actually.
When she reached the top, her goal became clear. Alya felt a tug on the cord she was suspended from, and Ladybug began lowering her to the ground. The cord seemed to loosen as she went, and Alya ended up falling the last few feet. She landed rather roughly—but not painfully—on her back. At most, her dignity was harmed.
“You royals are all the same,” Ladybug muttered, winding up her yo-yo. “No idea what you’re in for when you step outside the castle walls.”
Okay, that stung.
Alya glared—which probably had little effect in the darkness. She dusted herself off angrily as she scrambled to her feet. “I made it this far, didn’t I? And I don’t even know how those guys kept finding me. It’s almost like…”
“Almost like magic?” Ladybug asked. “Is that what you were about to say?”
It had been, but habit stopped her short of agreeing. Her kingdom didn’t look kindly on magic, not since Hawk Moth’s reign had begun. It wasn’t entirely illegal, and Alya knew it was widely practiced in some parts of the land, but it still felt taboo to acknowledge.
To think that her own family had turned to magic in their desperation to bring her home was…unexpected.
Especially after Nora.
“Of course they used magic,” Ladybug said. “It’s the most reliable way to find someone.”
It went unsaid, but the implication was obvious; it couldn’t have been a coincidence that Ladybug had found her here, either. The thought made Alya shiver—with excitement or fear, she couldn’t quite tell.
Ladybug sighed, tossing her yo-yo around another branch, and carefully lowering herself to the ground. “None of that’s important, anyways. What I want to know is…”
She stepped closer to Alya, crossing her arms over her chain mail.
“Why have you been looking for me?”
Alya hated how now, after all this time, words nearly failed her. It felt weak.
Her hand found its way into her coat pocket, fingers tightening around the one personal belonging she hadn’t lost when Missy had fled—a carved wooden fox, which Nora had gifted her for her birthday last year. She could scarcely feel it beneath her gloves, but it strengthened her resolve all the same.
“I need your help,” she said.
“Obviously,” Ladybug scoffed. “But why?”
Alya mirrored Ladybug’s stance, fingers digging into her arms as she narrowed her eyes.
“To help me take down Hawk Moth.”