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“Hey, m’Lady.” Chat grins, leaning on his extended baton like a makeshift cane. Next to him, Ladybug casts the miraculous cure, erasing the damage caused by the Pharaoh. “That akuma sure was something, huh?”
This isn’t the weirdest akuma they have faced, (that dubious honour belongs to Gigantitan. poor August…Ladybug has no idea why Hawkmoth insists on re-akumatising a toddler, to the extent that Ladybug and Chat know August and his parents on a first-name basis. they even exchanged contact details last attack. at least that kid will have some interesting anecdotes once he’s old enough to play drinking games.) but the Pharaoh comes in as a close second.
Ladybug makes a face. A few ladybugs land on her face, cuddling her cheek, before moving on to help others in need. “It isn’t every day that an akuma attempts human sacrifice.” She grimaces, “Thank the kwamis for that! At least Alya doesn’t seem too upset about it.”
Chat glances to the side. Alya is sitting on a bench, livestreaming an impromptu Q&A session about her new status as an almost-human-sacrifice. She looks exhilarated.
“Yeah, she seems fine.” Chat comments. More than fine, actually.
“I guess whatever she’s doing right now is preferable to being traumatised.” Ladybug replies doubtfully. Just because Alya doesn’t seem to be traumatised doesn’t mean Ladybug isn’t Concerned™ about her friend’s mental state. Most people don’t almost get sacrificed then immediately use the experience for internet clout.
“I need to thank you for arriving so quickly today, by the way.” She adds, wincing, “And I’m sorry I was late; I was kind of caught up in something.” Apparently, the bakery’s kitchen doesn’t have a good internet signal. She didn’t realise there was an akuma attack until half an hour had passed. Ladybug can’t believe that problem hasn’t come up before; but then, she hasn’t had much time (or mental capacity) to help out in the bakery since she became Ladybug.
“Don’t sweat it,” Chat smiles at her. What has Ladybug ever done to deserve this consideration? “I was already at the Louvre when the Pharaoh was akumatized. Plagg insisted.”
“Plagg insisted?” Ladybug blinks. “That’s the same Plagg I know, right? Since when was he interested in museum exhibits?”
“Yeah. I was watching Fate/Stay Night and uhh…y’know.” Chat gestures at nothing in particular. “Plagg got annoyed, I guess. Said he wanted to show me some proper history, and then he dragged me to the Louvre. Gave me a few lessons about humanity’s forgotten past. Did you know some really famous historical figures are miraculous holders as well? For example, there’s our national hero, Jeanne D’Arc—”
Huh. “In my…in my past life, Jeanne D’Arc was a magical girl.”
Chat Noir blinks. “Huh. Really?”
“Yeah. Her legend is really well known among magical girls, almost as popular as the story of Walpurgisnacht. Apparently she thought Kyubey was an angel? They say she could destroy a witch with a single attack, and defeated one of the strongest magical girls to ever exist. Also, she had an entourage of three magical girls—they might’ve been her harem—or something like that.”
“That’s…hm.” Chat’s brows knit together in thought. “Isn’t Jeanne D’Arc supposed to be a virgin?”
Ladybug shrugs.
Chat Noir shakes his head, “I guess some people are just that amazing.” He pauses, “Do you think she had a Black Cat? Master Fu said Ladybugs and Black Cats usually work together in pairs.”
“Maybe? You should ask Plagg later.”
Chat snaps his fingers together, “Yeah! Should’ve thought of that. I guess I should go now—or I’ll forget to ask Plagg about Jeanne D’Arc later.”
“And also because you’re down to two pads,” Ladybug reminds him.
“Right!” Chat glances at his ring, making a face at the beeping miraculous, “That’s just as important! No, no—more important!” He grins at her sheepishly, “See you tomorrow patrol?”
Ladybug snorts, “See you later, Chaton. Have fun being a history nerd.”
Chat beams, the way he does every time she calls him Chaton. The heroes remove their respective weapons from their waists, and then they leave in opposite directions back to their civilian lives.
“Hey, Tikki,” Marinette asks, that night before going to bed. She is seated on her bed in her pyjamas, and Tikki has settled onto the doll-sized cot Marinette made for her. “Chat told me Jeanne D’Arc was a Ladybug.”
“Hm?” Tikki glances up from the macaron she is nibbling on. “Oh, yes! Jeannette was such a sweet girl; she always gave me first pick of her rations, even when she didn’t have much to begin with. She was so smitten with her Black Cat, it was adorable.” A smile blooms on Tikki’s face, soft and melancholy.
“Her Black Cat…?”
“A girl from the same village as Jeannette. She followed Jeannette when she decided to leave Domrémy. Her name was…” a stream of bubbles erupt from Tikki’s mouth. She makes a face, “I can’t say her name until you’ve learnt of it. Let’s see—what’s the name of that one famous British queen?”
“Uh. Victoria? Elisabeth?”
“The second one.” Tikki nods, “They fought by each other’s side, though Lise always preferred to stay in the shadows. She was never one for public scrutiny. I’m afraid there aren’t any historical records that commemorate Jeanne’s ‘handmaiden’ because of that.” Tikki’s smile falters. “They would’ve been so happy together, after the war. They should’ve been so happy together.”
Ah. Everyone knows the fate of La Pucelle d’Orleans. Marinette doesn’t know what happened to Elisabeth—was she executed alongside Jeanne, or did she escape and outlive her Ladybug?
Marinette isn’t sure which fate is worse.
“The Jeanne D’Arc in my past life was a magical girl.” She reveals quietly, “She had a court of magical girls fighting by her side, I think, though most of what we magical girls know about that time period comes from legends and hearsay. They say she defeated one of the strongest magical girls to ever exist.”
That information brings a sad smile to Tikki’s face. “That sounds like the Jeanne I know.” Tikki agrees, pride and grief warring on her face. She shakes her head, “It was a long time ago, though. I’ve had a lot of Ladybugs since then.”
I’ve moved on, she doesn’t say.
Marinette isn’t sure if this is what moving on looks like, but she of all people cannot judge Tikki for her self-deception.
Tikki looks like she desperately needs a change of topic, so Marinette adds, “That does make me wonder, though…are all magical girls miraculous holders in this world? Or most of them, I suppose—there must be far more magical girls than miraculous, and I can’t imagine Master Fu wearing a magical dress anyway. Maybe the famous ones….?”
Tikki tilts her head curiously, latching onto the new topic. “Who were some famous magical girls?”
“Um…” Marinette pauses to think, “Amelia Earhart. People say she disappeared on her flight around the world, but according to magical girl myth, she flew right into Walpurgisnacht’s resting place and was swallowed by the witch.”
“Oh! Amelia Earheart was a holder of the Horse miraculous.”
Marinette’s eyes widen, “Does that mean she might’ve portalled her way out of the plane?”
“I’m not sure,” Tikki frowns, “Kaalki is notoriously tight-lipped about her holder’s fate, especially for one as prone to bragging as her. She would not shut up about her holders….except for Earhart.”
Marinette purses her lips. “…I see. Never mind that.” If Amelia Earhart’s fate is so terrible it traumatised a kwami, Marinette isn’t sure she wants to know.
She clears her throat to shrug off her lingering unease. “How about Cleopatra? Or Hatshepsut?”
“She held the Fox miraculous. Cleopatra was one of Trixx’s favourites in the millennium, for all the tragedy that her life ended with. As for Hatshepsut…she was actually your predecessor.” Tikki tells her, a nostalgic smile settling across her face. “A brilliant woman; the two of you would get along well.”
A woman with a legacy that great? And Tikki thinks Marinette can live up to her? No, not just that: Tikki thinks Marinette would get along with Hatshepsut, as equals. That’s—she never thought—
She clears her throat, hoping that she isn’t blushing. “How about…um…what’s her name…La Maupin?”
“She’s your predecessor too.” Tikki sighs fondly, “Julie was a wild one; her plans make yours look tame. Did you know Julie once rescued her lover from a nunnery by stealing an old nun’s corpse and setting the nunnery on fire, and that the girl she rescued later became her Black Cat?”
Marinette tries to dreg the faint memories about [teal]’s excited retelling of La Maupin’s story from her other-life’s recollections. “…I think she planted a grief seed in the nunnery to cover their escape, and the witch’s labyrinth was a hellscape covered in flames…?”
“Of course she did,” Tikki smiles, what the heck. She doesn’t appear reproachful in the slightest—if anything, she looks proud. “That sounds like the Julie I knew.”
Marinette stares at Tikki in astonishment for a moment, then decides she does not want to start psychoanalysing the little red creature. Instead, she shifts through her memories to recall which other historical figures had also been magical girls (and isn’t is strange? to willingly go through her memories of that life, instead of running from them as she had for so long? so much has changed since the day Tikki first appeared in her room, and Marinette will never stop being grateful).
“What about Mulan? Or Deborah Sampson? I think their Wishes allowed them to shift into a man, but I can’t be sure.”
“Do you mean Hua Mulan? I believe she was a Dragon; Loong was so insufferable about that Disney movie. Deborah Sampson…I think she’s a Turtle? Yes, that’s it—she was Wayzz’s last holder before the Chinese miraculous box was collected by the Order of the Guardians.”
Marinette is seeing an unfortunate correlation between girls Kyubey find to have potential and those deemed worthy of a miraculous. She isn’t sure she likes the implications of that, but morbid curiosity drives her to continue to ask, “Florence Nightingale, then? Rosalind Franklin? Malala Yousafzai? And…uh…Ea-Nasir? I think he’s one of the few boys who contracted with Kyubey, and one of the only magical girls to die of old age. Good for him, even though all he ever used his magic for is to scam people with fake copper nuggets.”
“Florence Nightingale was Sass’s holder. Ea-Nasir was a Fox.” Tikki paused, thinking. “But…from what I recall, the other two have no ties to the miraculous at all.”
“I was right that not all magical girls are miraculous holders in this world, then.” Marinette muses. Silently, she hopes the opposite is also true; there must be miraculous holders whose counterparts have not been doomed as magical girls, right?
“There are other famous miraculous holders you didn’t mention.” Tikki tells her. A pause, then hesitantly, Tikki asks, “Tell me…does your world have Heracles and Hippolyta?”
Marinette snaps her fingers, not noticing the sudden hesitancy in the kwami’s demeanor. “Right—I didn't think of them! I’m pretty sure the Amazons were an army of magical girls. And Hercules was an enemy magical boy, who attacked Hippolyta and…stole her soul gem? I think?”
“Hippolyta was your predecessor as well. A fearsome warrior, but her recklessness became her downfall. Heracles…” Tikki’s expression darkens, tainting her ruby-red face crimson like blood. “Heracles is a stain upon Plagg’s lineage.”
Marinette swallows, an instinctive fear striking her heart as she looks at Tikki’s blood-red features. Creation is life and blood and passion and pain. As cheerful and genial as Tikki appears to be, she is a god and gods are not to be crossed.
But the shadow over Tikki’s face passes as quickly as it appeared. After a moment, Tikki continues. “It was a war belt. Hippolyta’s belt was her most prized possession, and—” Tikki sneers, “—Heracles killed her for it.”
Marinette takes a deep breath, reminding herself that Tikki is not angry at her. As inhuman as the kwami might be, she is ultimately kind. She will not take her wrath out on Marinette. Marinette has come a long way in accepting Tikki for who she is, and this will not be the undoing of all her efforts.
Some days, she is grateful for Kyubey’s lack of emotions. As cruel as the creature can be, its actions are never out of malice. It’s a small comfort.
“I,” Marinette shakes away the strange mood, “it was the same in my old world, I think. From what I remember, Hippolyta’s soul gem takes the form of a belt when she is transformed.”
“I suppose that wouldn't change.” Tikki murmurs. She shakes her head, “Sorry, Marinette. I shouldn’t have brought that up. I didn’t mean to—I was curious…there must be some world where my bugs got the happy endings they deserve." she sighs, "Just…perhaps not that one.”
“…yeah.” The history of magical girls is an unending list of tragedy—Marinette is sure Tikki understands as much. Still, she can’t begrudge the kwami for hoping, despite it all, that perhaps that version of her previous holders had escaped their terrible fate.
That brief flash of blood-red rage across Tikki’s face terrified Marinette—some instinct carved into her soul that not even the Law of Cycle’s interference managed to erase. But now that logic has won over that animalistic fear, Marinette finds the way Tikki is still agitated about her holder’s fate—even millennia later—oddly…touching.
Briefly, she wonders: does Kyubey remember any of the magical girls who sacrificed themselves for its grand universal plan?
(Does it remember her?)
(Probably not.)
“Do…” Marinette hesitates. She shouldn’t, but…she wants to know. She has to know. “Do you remember all of your holders?”
“Of course I do!” Tikki exclaims, offended. Marinette startles, and Tikki’s voice softens. “I remember all of you, even the ones history considers villains. You’re all like my children to me.”
Tikki hesitates. “I’m lucky that I’ve never been misused before—but perhaps that’s an influence of my domain. Plagg is…less fortunate. Let’s just say there’s…a reason Destruction is feared, for how benign Plagg is compared to the rest of us kwamis. Perhaps that is why he is so fixated on freedom and choice—but that’s neither here nor there.” She pauses, “My point is, Plagg remembers each of his past holders as well, even the ones who misused him…though less favourably than his other holders.”
That makes sense. Marinette doubts Nooroo will remember his time with Hawkmoth fondly.
And…
Marinette’s mind can’t help but catch onto a particular set of words.
I remember all of you
You’re all like my children to me
The kwami’s words repeat again and again in Marinette’s mind, echoing unceasingly, and Marinette can’t help but realise—
Tikki included Marinette in that group.
Marinette, who couldn’t didn’t trust Tikki even months after she received Tikki’s miraculous, who rebuffed Tikki’s every attempt at building a friendship with fearful eyes by keeping a frigid distance, who repaid the kwami with hostility and suspicion when Tikki has never been anything but kind to her.
Marinette, whom Tikki chose to remain with, against all odds.
“I,” Marinette pauses. “Thank you, Tikki.”
The kwami blinks at her, bemused. “For what?”
“For…choosing to stay.” Marinette licks her lips. “I know I wasn’t very…nice to you, in the beginning. And I realised I never told you this. But…thank you. For being there for me, even when I didn’t know I needed it.”
“Oh, bug,” Tikki murmurs softly, “Don’t trouble yourself over that. What’s the point of my millennia of existence if I can’t even help a child in need?”
Marinette drifts to sleep with a smile on her face.
She dreams of a chorus of red-painted figures—men and women and elders and children. The chorus is led by a kindly creature, red like love and black like devotion. The creature welcomes Marinette with open arms, and the chorus greets her as their long-lost sister. Their passion washes over her, warming her veins and igniting a gentle flame in her soul. It is the flame of the hearth, of family across time and space, of a promise.
She will never be lonely or forgotten, ever again.
When Marinette wakes up, tears of joy are running across her face.
(Even as the miraculous holders of this world suffer and die and are twisted to fit history’s narrative, there is a happy ending that awaits them. They will never be forgotten, their names and faces and deeds will forever be engraved into their kwamis’ hearts, and their souls will move onto other worlds—other lives, other experiences...perhaps even happier fates.)
(Even if they die in tragedy, their stories do not end in ḑ̵͖̬̊̀̀̏̒͝é̴̡̪̟͕̜̞̗̇̈́͛s̴͎̑̽̌͝p̵̖̯͓͘a̷̧͍̞̭̰͑̌͘í̸̗̼͖͑͝ŕ̶̡̭̠̓̐̇̓͝͠)
(This is their legacy. This is their happy ending.)
(Marinette will never be ungrateful for being reborn in such a kind universe.)