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Chapter Text

Adrien pulled up the messaging app that he used to talk to Marinette as Chat Noir. 

“Let me guess,” Plagg said. “You’re texting your girlfriend.”

Adrien typed his message and pressed send. “I’ve told you a million times, Plagg. She’s just a friend.”

As he said it, he felt something scratching vaguely at the back of his mind. He felt that all the time when he thought about Marinette, but he could never quite put a finger on it. It was like an almost pain, an almost hope, a shape that was hiding behind a curtain so he could see its silhouette without knowing what it was. Sometimes he let his mind wander to explore what the feeling could be, but every time he did, he got all jumbled up and confused, with his stomach twisting into knots and his heart doing somersaults in his chest. It made him nervous. Uneasy. And things with Marinette had always been easy. So he preferred not to think about it.

“Suuuure,” Plagg said, hanging upside down right in front of Adrien’s face. “Just a friend.”

He put his phone on the table next to the pink rose he’d brought in from dinner. “Whatever. I just want to know if she heard any news about Father’s design contest. He said he sent out the letters already.”

“I don’t know why he couldn’t just tell you who won.”

“Yeah, me neither. But I can’t say I’m surprised. He never tells me anything.”

His lockscreen lit up with a new message.

Princess: Yeah. I got the letter this morning.

He typed his reply while Plagg hovered over his shoulder to read.

Chat: Did u open it?

Princess: ofc not. I promised you i’d wait for you, didn’t i?

Chat : good

Princess: can you come over now?

Chat: yep

Princess: i’ve been holding onto it all day and it’s been TORTURE. I think the envelope is laughing at me >.<

Chat: it’s only laughing cause it knows you’re worried about nothing :3

Princess: sksksksksjsjs HURRY

Chat: omw princess ;)

“Ugh,” Plagg groaned. “Now? I’m still digesting my dinner.”

“You’re always digesting. Besides, you heard the lady. I can’t turn down a royal summons, can I?” Adrien grabbed the rose and stood. “Plagg, claws out!”

A few minutes later, Adrien landed nimbly on Marinette’s balcony, stowing his baton on his back, and tapped on the skylight with a claw.

“Come in,” came Marinette’s muffled voice.

He dropped down and closed the window behind him before he hopped down to the floor. 

“For you,” he said, gallantly kneeling to present her with the rose.

She swiveled toward him in her desk chair. “You know, you don’t have to keep bringing me roses, silly cat.”

“I know. But I want to. Besides, they’d be going to waste otherwise. Trust me.” 

Marinette smiled. “Thank you.” She took the rose and tucked it into the vase on her desk, which was already full of roses.

He stood up. “Well, I’m here. You can open it now.” He pointed at the envelope propped up against her computer.

Marinette picked it up gingerly, like she thought it might catch on fire.

“I—I can’t,” she said.

“Sure you can. It’s just an envelope.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and shoved the letter at Adrien. “I can’t. You open it.”

“Feline a bit jumpy, are we?”

“Come on, just do it!”

“Okay, okay.” He plucked the envelope from her shaking fingers. It was large and sturdy, with his father’s signature butterfly symbol embossed across the center. He flipped it over and slid a claw under the flap, carefully slicing it open. 

“Hurry up!” Marinette said. “Why are you going so slow?”

“You’ll thank me later,” he replied with a wink. “You’re going to want to keep this envelope. Because it has purr-fectly wonderful news in it.”

Marinette walked across the room and collapsed onto her chaise. “Stop,” she moaned, covering her face with a pillow. “There’s no way I won.”

“Relax, princess,” he said soothingly. “It’s gonna be fine. You’ll see.” He slipped the letter from the envelope and cleared his throat to read.

“Dear Miss Dupain-Cheng,

“Thank you for your submission to the Gabriel Brand Teen Formalwear Design Competition. We received dozens of excellent submissions from talented young designers all over Paris—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Marinette muttered under the pillow. “Cut to the chase.”

Adrien grinned as he skimmed the next section. “It is our pleasure to inform you that you are the winner of the competition!”

Marinette froze. “What?”

“You won!”

“I . . . won?”

“Yep!”

“You’re lying. Let me see that.” Marinette marched over and snatched the letter from his hands. She gasped as she read down the page. “I—I won. I really won,” she said breathlessly. “My designs will be included in the next line of Gabriel originals. I’ll get to do an internship with my fashion idol. This is everything I’ve dreamed of. I can’t believe it!” 

“I can,” Adrien said. “You’re the most talented person I know! And your designs are incredible. You worked so hard on them. No one else deserves this more. It had to be you.”

Marinette looked up from the envelope, her blue eyes wide. Then she dropped the letter and threw her arms around him.

“Thanks, kitty,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “That means a lot.”

“I’m really proud of you,” Adrien said, bringing his arms around her. “You are incredible. And you’re gonna kill it at the photoshoot.”

She stiffened in his arms. “The . . . photoshoot?”

Adrien frowned. “Yeah. You told me that was part of the competition, right? The winner gets to model their own designs with Adrien Agreste.”

He tried to say it as normally as possible, but even after all this time, it still felt kind of weird to refer to himself in the third person.

Marinette released her grip and stepped back. “Yeah, that’s right. And it’s in the Agreste mansion. In Gabriel Agreste’s personal studio! This is a big deal. He’s so reclusive. He hardly ever makes public appearances. And he almost never lets anyone into his house.”

“Sounds like a great opportunity for you, then. What’s the matter?”

She bit her lip. “Well, you know how clumsy I am. And . . . everyone will be watching. Including my fashion idol! I know my designs are strong, but I have no experience with modeling. What if I mess up? What if I’m so bad that he decides to give the internship to someone else?”

“Hey.” Adrien put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay. You can do this. You’re bold. You’re brilliant. You’re Marinette!”

She beamed. “Yeah. I’m Marinette.”

“Besides,” he said. “Adrien will be there. He’s your friend. That makes it better, right?” He paused hopefully. He used to think Marinette was intimidated by him based on how much she stammered and blushed around him (which she didn’t seem to do around anyone else). Even back then, before he’d become good friends with her as Chat, that hurt. He’d always liked Marinette. He hated knowing that being around him made her nervous or uncomfortable. But he figured it was because he was the son of a famous designer, and there was nothing he could do about that.

Thankfully, as Adrien and Marinette became better friends, Marinette seemed to get more comfortable around him. Not quite as comfortable as she was around him as Chat, but now she hardly ever stammered. He was glad he could talk to her as Adrien now without making her nervous. But still, he could never quite figure her out. A few times he’d wondered if maybe she had a crush on him, but she’d always made it clear that they were just friends.

Just friends. The scratching was back, more insistent this time. It was hard to ignore. But Marinette jolted him out of his reverie.

“You’re right,” she said. “And Adrien has tons of experience with modeling, so hopefully he can guide me. Unless . . . ” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “Unless I’m just so terrible that I screw everything up for him too. And then he hates me!”

“Im-paw-ssible,” Adrien said. “He could never hate you. You’re 100% un-hateable. Besides, I’m sure Adrien will be thrilled to model with you.”

“Really?”

“Really. Trust me, it would be an honor to wear your designs. And working with you? That’s the icing on the cake. You’re pretty amazing, Marinette.”

Her face melted into a smile. “That’s really sweet, Chat. Thanks.”

He shrugged. “Hey, I’m just telling the truth. But if you’re really that nervous, we could practice.”

“What? How?”

“Like this!” Adrien pushed Marinette down onto the chaise and dropped to one knee, bringing his hands up to mimic holding a camera.

“Give me a big smile!” he said in his best impersonation of his crazy Italian photographer. “Like Mama has made you a birthday lasagna!”

She laughed. “Um . . . I’m not sure that’s how a professional photoshoot will be.”

Adrien lowered the fake camera. “Honestly, you’d be surprised,” he said in his normal voice. But then it was back to business. “Yes, yes, you are dreaming of beautiful lasagna! Show me how your heart sings!”

Marinette made a face, but then she did her best to follow his instructions as he circled around her, pretending to capture her from different angles.

“Yes, very good, Marinette! Click! But maybe something with a little more emotion, yes. You have dropped your lasagna. Give me tragic. Give me heartbreak. Good. Click! ”

As he babbled on, drawing from real photoshoots he’d had to sit through with Vincent, he sprinkled in some actually helpful advice that he knew from years of modeling. “Don’t hunch your shoulders like a turtle. Elongate your neck.” “You are not a limp noodle! Keep poise and tension in your body.” “Keep your hands loose, flowing like water, yes.” “Do not block the light with your arms. We need to see your beautiful face, no?” “Hello? Is somebody home in those eyes? Come back. Bring me intensity in your gaze.”

After he dropped a particularly incredible spaghetti pun, Marinette burst into laughter, waving her hands in front of her face. “Okay, okay, session’s over. It’s getting late anyway.”

Adrien pretended to look through the photos in his camera. “We have captured many beautiful moments, princesa. You are a natural, see? Paws-tively overflowing with potential!”

“Ha, thanks.” She stood, smoothing her hair. “But really. I think that helped. I don’t feel so nervous anymore.”

Adrien smiled, dropping the photographer act. “Good. You’ll be amazing. I know it.” He grabbed her hand and stooped to kiss it. “I better leave you, then. Let me know how the shoot goes, okay?” He hopped up to the loft and offered a two-finger salute before he opened the skylight and climbed through.

As he was reaching for his baton to vault away from the balcony, Marinette’s voice floated up from her bedroom.

“Wait!”

Adrien turned to see Marinette scrambling across her bed. She reached up a hand and he pulled her through the skylight.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yes, I just wanted—um . . . ”

She paused, gazing at him with a strange look on her face, and then her hands were cupping both sides of his face. Adrien felt her lips against his cheek. He blinked in surprise, his cheeks burning underneath his mask.

Marinette pulled away and looked up at him with a soft smile.

“Thank you,” she said. “For everything. You’re always there for me.”

His heart thrummed in his chest. “Always,” he said.

He hopped onto the railing of the balcony and reached for his stick.

“Good night, princess,” he said over his shoulder.

“Night, kitty.” 

With a final wave, he vaulted off into the dark.

It was a good thing he knew the way back from Marinette’s so well, because he didn’t think he was paying attention at all. All the way home, a single moment was replaying in his mind like a video on a loop—Marinette smiling softly, her checks dusted pink and her dark hair falling across her forehead. Her eyes were reflecting the light of the moon and the stars, and the colored lanterns surrounded her in a hazy glow, like a halo.

A friend, he thought for the third time that night. The scratching at the back of his mind grew more urgent, and his stomach twisted.

One thing was for sure. This was going to be the best photoshoot he’d ever had.

Chapter Text

Marinette walked with slow, measured steps. If she walked quickly, she could get to the Agreste mansion in just fourteen minutes, but at the rate she was going, it would probably take her half an hour. Good thing she had left in plenty of time for once. She’d been too nervous to sleep in.

“Marinette, you’re going to be late if you don’t hurry,” Tikki said, poking her head out of Marinette’s bag.

Marinette glanced down at Tikki. “I still have time. I’ll get there.”

“I know you’re nervous,” Tikki said, “but you’re going to do great! Now just pick up the pace!”

“I—okay,” Marinette said. Just then, her phone vibrated. She fished it out of her bag and read the message.

Kitty: Good luck today!! you’re going to do great. just remember those PAWSOME modeling tips I gave you, ok? :3

Marinette typed a quick message back.

Marinette: Thanks. I will

Kitty: you ok? nervous at all?

Marinette: yeah, a little 

...okay, a LOT

Kitty: relax. it will all be fine!

Marinette: you don’t know that :(

Kitty: sure i do. cat’s intuition ;)

Marinette: :///

Kitty: trust me. you’re gonna knock em dead, purrincess

You CAN do this! 🥫

I bee-leaf in u 🐝🍃

You will be fin-tastic 🐠

Donut give up 🍩  

Just think paws-itive 🐾  

Marinette: djdjsjsj how did you come up with all those so fast

Did u google “encouraging puns”??

Kitty: wow, after all this time you still underestimate my punning skills that much???

...that’s exactly what i did

did it work

I have more

Marinette: lol that’s not necessary. those were purrfect :)

Kitty: :) good, I’m glad

Marinette: thanks, chat. i needed that.

you’re one in a melon 🍉

in fact

you’re the bomb 💣

Kitty: :’)

Marinette: i gotta go. I’m gonna be late!!

Kitty: Good luck! 

Can’t wait to hear all about it later

With a smile, Marinette shoved the phone back into her bag.

“Feeling better?” Tikki asked.

“Much better,” Marinette said. “Let’s do this!” 

“You know how strict Mr. Agreste is about punctuality,” Tikki said. “Better hurry. You’ve got eight minutes.”

“No problem.”

Nine minutes later, Marinette was standing awkwardly in the middle of Agreste’s enormous entryway, out of breath and painfully aware of how every shuffle of her feet echoed in the huge chamber. She wondered if the sound of her thudding heart would echo too.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng,” said a cool voice.

Marinette’s head snapped up. Gabriel Agreste himself was descending the grand staircase, his hands clasped behind his back. His movements were as smooth and crisp as the freshly pressed suit he wore. Marinette suddenly became aware of her own appearance. Her hair was probably a mess from her run. She nervously smoothed her pigtails and tugged at the hem of her top.

“Mr. Agreste,” she said, “thank you for hosting me.”

“Of course.”

Mr. Agreste halted at the bottom of the stairs, looking down at her over his glasses. Marinette felt like she was being X-rayed. She gulped.

“Congratulations,” Mr. Agreste added with the barest hint of a smile. “Your work is exquisite.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Oh! Thank you.”

“Marinette!”

Marinette looked up to see Adrien at the top of the stairs, beaming. He bounded down the steps two and a time and threw his arms around her in a hug.

“Congratulations,” he said. “I knew you would win.”

Marinette felt her body relax in his arms. She could do this. With Adrien here, she could do it. 

But even after all this time, when she thought she’d finally managed to get over him, she couldn’t help but be hyper-aware of how close they were. His hands on her back, his soft hair brushing against her cheek, the scent of his cologne filling her nostrils. And she would probably be experiencing all of that for the next three to four hours.

Oh no.

“Adrien, Miss Dupain-Cheng is here on business. Keep it professional, please,” Mr. Agreste cut in.

“Yes, Father.” Adrien pulled back from the hug, keeping his hands on Marinette’s shoulders. “I’m really excited I get to work with you!”

Marinette smiled. “Me too.”

“Nathalie,” Mr. Agreste said sharply. “Please take Miss Dupain-Cheng to wardrobe and makeup. Night look first. We will follow with the day shoot shortly after.”

Mr. Agreste’s assistant seemed to appear out of nowhere, clutching her tablet as usual. “Yes, Mr. Agreste.” She gestured to Marinette. “Come with me.”

Marinette glanced over her shoulder as she followed Nathalie up the stairs. Adrien gave an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.

I’m bold. I’m brilliant. I’m Marinette! she told herself.

An hour later, Marinette stood inside the studio, feeling oddly naked and exposed despite wearing a full-length gown with long sleeves. She touched her earlobe instinctively. The diamond earrings felt cold and heavy compared to her miraculous. She’d hated to take off her Ladybug earrings, but they definitely didn’t go with the outfit. At least Tikki was with them in whatever place the costuming people had put her bag. But being away from Tikki just made her more nervous.

Her hands moved to smooth her pigtails—her nervous habit—but no, those were gone too. Instead, her hair was styled in loose waves around her shoulders.

Marinette wiped her sweating palms on her gown. It was a pale, shimmering silver inspired by the moon. Just as she had designed it, the dress clung to her torso, hips, and thighs and then flowed to the floor, streaming behind her like moonlight. But though she’d tailored it exactly to her own measurements, she felt like she could barely breathe. She couldn’t decide if the pain in her stomach came from nerves or something else. Maybe she shouldn’t have eaten that muffin from the spread of pastries Mr. Agreste had sent to her dressing room.

She stepped closer to the stage, which had already been set for the shoot with soft, dreamy lighting and a backdrop like a starry night sky. At least her designs seemed to match the theme well. But— 

“Marinette!” 

Marinette spun around, teetering on her high heels and nearly losing her balance when she bumped into Adrien. He caught her by the elbows and she looked up at him, feeling her mouth fall open. His bright green eyes were lined in striking black, and his strong cheekbones had been brought out with dramatic contouring. It was strange to see him in this kind of makeup, but still . . . he looked good. She knew she was staring and wondered vaguely if she should feel self-conscious about it, but her brain had turned to mush.

Besides, she was pretty sure he was staring too. He looked down at her, wide eyed, his mouth slightly open. Then he blinked.

“Wow,” he breathed, “you look . . . incredible.”

“S-so do you,” Marinette said.

Adrien stepped back. “Only because I’m wearing your design! This is amazing!” He spread his arms to show off his black suit, which was perfectly tailored and subtly studded with rhinestones to mimic stars in the night sky.

“Oh, thanks,” Marinette said, feeling her cheeks flush. “I—I knew you’d be wearing it, so I tried to make it feel like you, you know?”

“It does!” Adrien said with a grin. “Although, it does kind of remind me of someone else too.” He gestured to the black gloves and boots with their oddly-shaped cuffs.

“Yeah, I took some inspiration from Chat Noir’s suit,” Marinette explained. “Since he is, you know, Chat Noir. He’s practically the posterboy for the ‘night’ theme, right? Haha. Ha.” She grinned awkwardly. Why did it suddenly feel so hot in this room? It must be the long sleeves of her dress.

Adrien beamed. “I think it’s fantastic. That was the perfect direction to go. I’m sure, uh—I bet Chat Noir would be honored.”

Marinette let out a soft laugh as she remembered how thrilled Chat had been when she showed him her initial designs for the suit. “Yeah, I think he would. He’s always seemed very comfortable accepting the adoration of his fans.”

“A-adoration?” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Is that why you—”

Marinette’s eyes went wide. “No! That’s not what I mean. I’m not, like, a crazed fan of his. I was just, um, inspired by him.”

“He inspires you, huh?” Adrien dropped his hand, offering a crooked grin.

“Well—no!” Marinette sputtered. “I mean, yes. That’s not—it’s not like he’s my muse, but in this case, yes, I was thinking of his suit when I designed this one. Because it seemed to fit the theme well.”

“Not because you adore him, then?” There was a teasing glint in Adrien’s eye that looked strangely familiar, even under all the makeup.

“No, I do not adore him,” Marinette said, waving her hands in protest. “Do I respect him? Of course. We do owe him a lot with him saving Paris all the time. And sure, he can be charming. I guess. But his puns are terrible . . . . okay, some of them are good, but like 90% of them are . . . I mean, they’re actually pretty funny, to be honest, but his timing ruins it. Maybe he’d be funnier if he weren’t so, I don’t know, arrogant. It’s so irritating because he’s so cute and he knows it and he never—”

Marinette stopped short, realizing what she’d said. Her mouth hung open, and she felt herself go red. Adrien still had that stupid grin on his face. If he were Chat she would’ve shoved him. But he wasn’t Chat—she had just said all that to Adrien Agreste and now he probably thought she was some kind of obsessed weirdo.

“Basically, yes,” she said quickly. “I was inspired by Chat Noir. Because he inspires me. And I’m, uh, a fan of his. You might even say I’m his biggest fan.” Marinette cringed internally. Why? Why had she said that? That made it a hundred times worse!

But Adrien was beaming so brightly that he looked like a pure ray of sunshine even in his night-time look. “Wow, that’s a huge compliment! Chat Noir would probably love that.”

Marinette could only imagine how much Chat would rub this in if he were here. “Yeah, I bet he would,” she mumbled, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Especially if he knew that the compliment was coming from someone as amazing as you.”

“Huh?” Marinette pulled herself away from thoughts of Chat’s infuriating smug grin and found herself face to face with Adrien, who had stepped close to put his hands on her shoulders.

“You’re amazing, Marinette,” he said softly. “I’m the one who’s honored. To be wearing your designs. And to be working with you. ”

Marinette blinked. Sometimes, Adrien Agreste was just as infuriating as Chat Noir. Because he could say something like that and look at her so softly with those big green eyes and make her heart skip a beat just like it used to. After all the effort she’d put into getting over him, he still had some power over her. Maybe he always would.

But even then, with the full attention of the gorgeous model she’d once been so madly in love with that she could hardly speak, she was reminded of her kitty. Hadn’t he said nearly the same thing a few nights before? In fact, the way Adrien was looking at her almost reminded her of Chat. The eyes were so different, but still green, and the soft smile was strikingly similar . . . 

Marinette shook her head slightly. “Uh, thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”

“Not nice,” Adrien said. “Just the truth.”

A few sharp claps sounded behind them, causing Marinette to jump. The photographer came bustling through.

“The stage is set, yes? Then let us begin.” He turned to Adrien and Marinette. “What are you waiting for? Places!”

Adrien extended his elbow to Marinette. “Shall we?”

Marinette looked at him, at the expectant photographer, at the stern lady with the tablet, at Mr. Agreste, who was standing impassively in the corner, watching them. As she took a steadying breath, Chat’s voice came into her head. I bee-leaf in you! You will be fin-tastic!

She giggled. Adrien raised his eyebrows questioningly. She shook her head at him, still smiling, and took his arm.

“Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

“No, no, no!” Vincent said loudly, lowering his camera. “You are too stiff! We need flowing movements, flowing—you understand?”

“Sorry,” Adrien said. He adjusted his arms around Marinette’s waist. “Is that better?”

“Not you. Her.” Vincent jabbed his camera in Marinette’s direction. “Your arms are like uncooked spaghetti. Brittle. Rigid. You are moonlight, yes? Show me graceful! Graceful.”

Adrien glanced at Marinette. They were only about twenty minutes into the shoot, and she did not look good. Her face was pale, her eyes were wide, and, as close as he was standing to her, he could hear that her breathing was accelerated. She’d seemed confident enough before they started, but he guessed that the stage fright had caught up with her. 

“You okay?” he murmured into her ear. “We can stop if you want.”

“No.” Marinette gritted her teeth. “I—I can’t. I have to do this. My . . . my future career depends on it.”

“Well, I think you should rest for a second.”

“I’m . . . fine,” Marinette said unconvincingly.

“Are you finished with your whispering? We are in the middle of a shoot!” Vincent huffed.

“Actually,” Adrien said, straightening, “can we take a short break? I could use a glass of water.”

Vincent folded his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Fine. Five minutes. And you”—he pointed at Marinette—”when you come back, you are a moonbeam. Yes? Yes.” He spun on his heel and marched away.

Marinette took a few steps and wobbled on her heels. Adrien gripped her elbow and guided her to a chair. 

“Thanks,” she said, fanning herself with her hand. “Is it hot in here?”

How could she look pale and flushed at the same time? Adrien hovered over her, unsure of what to do. He spotted a table with a water dispenser. “I’ll get you something to drink. Wait here.”

As he filled the plastic cup, he saw Father standing with Nathalie and Vincent out of the corner of his eye. 

“The Dupain-Cheng girl is a disaster,” Father said scathingly, not even bothering to lower his voice. “I’ve never seen such a poor performance from a model.”

Adrien set the cup on the table a little too forcefully, causing water to slosh over the side. He turned to Father.

“That’s because she’s not a model. She’s a designer. And she’s nervous.”

Father arched an eyebrow. “Dealing with nerves is part of the fashion world. Either she can handle it, or she can’t.”

Adrien glanced back at Marinette, who was hunched over in her seat, resting her forehead in her hand.

“Just go easy on her. Please, Father. There’s a reason you picked her to be the winner. Marinette deserves this.”

Father considered him through his glasses. “Her designs are good; that’s true. But if she can’t pull herself together, she will be pulled from the shoot.”

“But—”

Father put up a hand. “Don’t argue with me, Adrien. I know what is best for the Gabriel brand. And that”—he nodded toward Marinette—“is not it.” 

Father turned and walked back to his corner, Nathalie at his heels. Adrien watched him go, his heart sinking. 

“Three minutes,” Vincent said with a sniff. Then he left too.

Adrien grabbed the glass of water and brought it back to Marinette. Her eyes were closed, her arms wrapped around her stomach. He wasn’t so sure it was just nerves after all.

“Marinette, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

She squinted up at him. “Yeah. Yeah. Just a stomach ache, that’s all. It’s making me a little dizzy.”

Adrien sat beside her. “Maybe you’re coming down with something. I’ll ask my father to reschedule.”

“No, no. Don’t do that. I’m sure it’s just nerves.” Marinette grimaced. “I knew I wouldn’t be great at this, but I’m even worse than I thought.”

“Hey.” Adrien put a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “You just need to relax, okay? We’ll make it work. I’ll help you.”

“You tried,” Marinette said, sounding miserable. “But not even you can make me look good.”

Adrien opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t that she didn’t look good—in fact, she looked absolutely stunning—but it was true . . . his father would never allow the photos they’d taken so far to be featured in any Gabriel brand promotions. He’d made that very clear.

“Ugh. I shouldn’t even have entered this contest.” Marinette hung her head, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

She looked so defeated that Adrien’s heart almost broke for her. He searched desperately for a way to help her feel better. If he were suited up, he would probably throw around a few stupid puns until he made her smile.

And then, that was the only thing he could think to do. He raised the glass of water.

“Um . . . water you talking about?”

Marinette turned, glancing at the cup in her hand and then back up at him.

“It’s, uh, clear to me that you will do well on this shoot.”

She blinked. Adrien stared back, feeling his neck prickle. He held out the cup to her.

“Are you sure you’re not thirsty? ’Cause you sure look hot.”

As soon as he said it, he felt his face go red. Marinette was staring at him open mouthed. 

Stupidstupidstupidstupid.

But then Marinette laughed. “Wow. You’re as bad as Chat Noir. Those were terrible.”

Adrien grinned sheepishly. “I know. Sorry.”

Behind them, Vincent made his noisy way back to the front. 

“Break time is over!” he said, clapping his hands sharply. “Back to your places.”

“Here, drink this,” Adrien said, pressing the water glass into Marinette’s hand. “Maybe it’ll help.” 

Marinette took a few gulps. Adrien stood and pulled her to her feet.

“Ready?”

She took a deep breath. “Ready.”

He gave her hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry, pr—Marinette. It’s going to be just fine. You’ll see.”

It wasn’t just fine.

Adrien did his best to guide her into each pose. He whispered instructions in her ear—“Relax your shoulders.” “Loosen your grip.” “Bring your right foot forward.” “Keep your arms fluid.” But she could never get it right, no matter how hard she seemed to be trying.

Vincent circled them like a hawk, huffing and clucking his tongue and groaning aloud.

“Mamma mia, is this what you call moonlight?”

“Too stiff—too stiff! You are still uncooked spaghetti!” 

“Ack! And now we have added the sauce. You are as red as a tomato!”

“What is this face? You look like you have swallowed a lemon!”

“No, no, no! WRONG!”

Finally, he lowered the camera. “You would not know the meaning of graceful if it bit you in the nose!” he said, gesturing at Marinette wildly with one hand. “Disaster! You were right, Signore Agreste. This girl? A disaster.”

Adrien froze. Marinette stiffened beside him. From behind them came the sound of a throat clearing. Father stepped forward from his corner, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he said. His voice was as cold as Adrien’s blood. “I think you will agree that your performance has been . . . less than satisfactory. In fact, you are the worst model I have ever had the misfortune of observing.”

Adrien’s stomach dropped. Marinette looked like she’d been slapped in the face. He tightened his grip on her hand.

“Father!” he protested.

Father’s eyes flashed beneath his glasses. “The rules of the contest state that the winner will model his or her own designs. But I daresay that none of the photos taken in this session are usable. I’m afraid that Miss Dupain-Cheng has left me with no choice but to dismiss her from the shoot.”

“No!” Adrien said. “Please.”

Marinette’s hand went slack in his grip.

“Does . . . ” She swallowed. “Does this mean that I’ve . . . lost the internship?”

Father turned his cold gaze back to Marinette. “In this business, Miss Dupain-Cheng, presentation is everything—for models and designers alike. However, despite your miserable modeling debut, your designs are still strong. You may keep the internship.”

Relief flooded through Adrien. He felt Marinette relax beside him.

“Thank—” she began to say, but Father held up a hand.

“On a probationary basis,” he went on. “My brand has a certain image to uphold. If you cannot present your designs with poise and confidence, then you are not fit to work under the Gabriel label.”

Marinette looked down. “I understand.”

“I will give you one last chance to prove yourself. We will transition to the day shoot and invite another model to pose with Adrien. You will stand by to watch and learn. If, after careful observation and imitation, you can manage to complete a passable shoot, you may keep the internship.”

Father stepped closer to Marinette. She seemed to shrink under the weight of his shadow. Adrien wanted to step in front of her and shield her from his father, to hug her and tell her it would be okay. But he just stood rooted to the spot.

“I want you to succeed, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Father said softly, almost dangerously. “Your designs have always impressed me. You have talent. Potential. I can help you build the career you’ve always wanted. If, of course, you can prove yourself today. To give you the best chance of improvement, I have called in one of our best models. Pay close attention. She is a true inspiration.”

He turned to Nathalie.

“Bring in . . . Miss Rossi.”

Chapter Text

Marinette’s jaw dropped.

Lila? 

She watched, dumbfounded, as Mr. Agreste’s assistant came back into the room, followed by that familiar head of auburn hair that she’d come to despise so much. Lila’s eyes met hers, narrowing with a wicked glint, and the ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Marinette!” she called when they got closer. She rushed at Marinette and pressed a kiss to each of her cheeks. “It’s so good to see you. You look absolutely beautiful! This dress? Incredible.”

Marinette plastered a smile onto her face. “Thank you,” she said through gritted teeth.

Lila turned to Adrien, who looked like he’d just smelled something unpleasant. 

“Adrien!” She threw her arms around him. “You look even more handsome than usual in Marinette’s amazing designs!” 

“Thanks,” Adrien said stiffly.

Lila pulled away from the hug and looked at them both with a bright smile that made Marinette’s already-aching stomach twist.

“Mr. Agreste—oh, I mean Gabriel—he insists that I call him that! Can you believe it? I just can’t get used to it. Anyway, Gabriel tells me that you need some help with your fashion shoot.”

“Yes,” Mr. Agreste said, stepping forward. “Unfortunately, Miss Dupain-Cheng has let nerves get the better of her and the photos taken during her shoot are useless. She could use some pointers from a model of your caliber. She’ll be observing you and Adrien during the day shoot.”

“You were nervous, Marinette?” Lila’s voice dripped with fake concern. “I remember how nervous I was for my first shoot with Adrien. But after a few poses, I felt much better, and the photos turned out great!”

Vincent strolled up beside Lila. “You are a natural in front of the camera. Absolutely bellissima. But she . . . ” He eyed Marinette with disdain. “I do not think she has what it takes.”

“Oh! I’m sure that’s not true. Marinette just needs to get used to it.” Lila turned back to Marinette, smiling sweetly. “I’ll be happy to help you in any way I can!”

Marinette could practically feel her blood boiling, which only made her even more dizzy. She sucked in a deep breath. “Thanks, Lila,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.

“I am thrilled to work with you again, Miss Lila,” Vincent said with a grin. “We Italians need to stick together, no?” 

“Assolutamente!” Lila said, laughing. Then she stopped, eyes wide. “Oh! Does this mean I get to wear Marinette’s gorgeous design?”

“Yes,” Mr. Agreste said. “And since Miss Dupain-Cheng has thrown us off schedule, there is no time to delay. Nathalie, take her to wardrobe, please.”

Lila waved over her shoulder as she walked away. “See you soon!” 

Marinette clenched her teeth.

“You too, Adrien,” Mr. Agreste said. “Off to wardrobe.”

Adrien looked at Marinette uncertainly. “Are you sure you’re okay, Marinette?”

“I’m—” Marinette squeezed her eyes shut and clutched her middle as another sharp pain stabbed through her. Adrien gripped her shoulders to steady her.

“—fine,” she finished.

Adrien’s brow furrowed. “No, you’re not.” He led her gently to a chair.

“Father,” he said, “Marinette really isn’t well. She should go home.”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Agreste responded coolly. “What Miss Dupain-Cheng is suffering from is a bad case of nerves. I’ve seen it time and time again with inexperienced models.”

Marinette hunched over in her seat, gritting her teeth through the pain.

“Look at her!” Adrien exclaimed. “Please, we have to call off the shoot.”

“Absolutely not. If she leaves now, she forfeits the contest and loses the internship.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Do not contradict me!” Mr. Agreste’s voice rang through the studio. “My decision is final. Your refusal to follow instructions is only hurting her chances. If you really want to help your friend, you will do as I say. Now.”

Marinette looked up at Adrien, wincing. He looked as broken as she felt.

His eyes met hers. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Marinette watched him walk away, and a different kind of pain stabbed through her gut. He was the only other person who knew what Lila was, and now she sat alone under the icy gaze of Gabriel Agreste, humiliated and in pain, without even Tikki’s reassuring presence beside her.

She felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Adrien’s bodyguard offered her a cup of water that looked tiny in his massive hand.

“Thank you,” she said.

He nodded and stepped back.

For nearly an hour Marinette hunched on her chair, sipping the water and trying not to wince. As the minutes ticked by, the pain began to fade. At one point, Adrien’s bodyguard brought her some pain medication, which helped. By the time everyone came back, the dizzy spells were over, and the stomach pains had dulled to a mild ache. 

But they were back in full force as soon as she saw Lila.

The dress Marinette had designed for the day shoot was inspired by a clear summer sky. It had sheer sleeves that streamed gracefully from her shoulders to the floor and a light, airy skirt that flared gently at the waist and down past her feet. The bodice was covered in white butterflies that seemed to be lifting off the dress.

But one of the most striking things about it was the color. She had chosen a specific shade of blue that matched her eyes almost exactly. When she tried it on at home, she was pleased with how it flattered her skin tone and hair color.

The dress was designed to look good on Marinette. It was not supposed to look good on Lila. The blue should’ve clashed horribly with Lila’s coloring. But it didn’t. Somehow, some way, Lila managed to make it look good. Marinette scowled.

“Marinette!” Lila exclaimed. She twirled, making the dress flare around her. “The gown you designed is beautiful! I’m so honored that I get to wear it!”

Marinette took a sullen gulp of water, refusing to answer.

“And look at Adrien!” Lila gestured toward the door, and Marinette almost choked on her water.

Of course, she’d designed the suit to look good on Adrien. But she wasn’t prepared for just how good it would look on him.

His suit was inspired by the sun. The gold she’d picked out wasn’t distractingly bright or metallic, but it had a dull shine that caught the light just right. It seemed to make his whole person glow.

Adrien spotted Marinette and hurried over.

“Are you okay?” he asked anxiously, seeming to be totally unaware that he was a sun god.

Marinette stared. His green eyes were even more brilliant than usual, the gold flecks brought out by the suit and the shimmering gold eyeliner. Vaguely, she was aware that she should be saying something.

“Mmmhmm—uh—yep,” she managed.

Adrien’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. I’ve been so worried.”

“Adrien,” Lila said, snatching his arm and squeezing in close, “didn’t Marinette do such an amazing job on these outfits?”

Adrien threw Lila a distracted glance. “Yeah, of course.” His eyes shifted back to Marinette’s. “Was there ever any doubt that she would be amazing?”

Marinette’s heart stuttered in her chest. Amazing.

“You know, they remind me of some designs I’ve seen before,” Lila went on. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but they were incredible. Marinette clearly has good taste in her design inspiration.”

Vincent’s voice cut in sharply. “The clock ticks! We are behind schedule. Places please, Adrien. Miss Lila.”

Lila tugged at Adrien’s arm, pulling him away. Adrien looked back at Marinette and gave her a warm smile that reminded her so much of Chat that it made her ache inside.

If only he were here, she thought. He’d make all of this less of a nightmare. He would sit with her and make faces behind Lila’s back and call Adrien a pretty boy and whisper insulting puns about Mr. Agreste in her ear until she was laughing so hard that they’d both be kicked out.

But he wasn’t there. She was totally alone. As Marinette watched the shoot, the pain in her stomach finally slipped away. But there was no way to lessen the pain in her heart.

Lila’s movements and poses were graceful and perfect. Vincent had nothing but praise for her as he circled them, flashing photo after photo.

“Now, that’s how you model, Miss Marinette!” he called back to her.

Now Adrien’s arms were around Lila. He dipped her downward, the wind machine gently ruffling their hair.

“Perfezionare!” Vincent cried. “Now, closer.”

Adrien leaned in. The camera flashed.

“Closer!”

Another fraction of an inch. Another flash.

“Now, kiss her,” Vincent ordered, camera ready.

Adrien’s lips were just inches from Lila’s. Marinette’s stomach dropped. No.

But Adrien had frozen in place. He blinked. Lila pushed her lips to his, her arm snaking up around his neck to hold the kiss.

A few more flashes in rapid succession.

“Beautiful,” Vincent said.

Lila and Adrien finally broke apart, Lila smiling triumphantly. Adrien swung her upward back to her feet and stepped away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ah,” Vincent said, lowering his camera. “I think that wraps up our shoot. We have just what we needed. And in record time! You two have perfect chemistry.”

Marinette felt both fire and ice in her blood. He kissed her. He kissed Lila.

In the back of her mind, she knew that it didn’t mean anything, that it was just for the shoot, that she had kissed him, that he didn’t have a choice, that he probably didn’t want to . . . but he had kissed her. And she couldn’t help remembering all the other shoots he’d done with her before, the photos in the tabloids where they looked so happy, like friends instead of enemies, even more than friends . . . 

She could sense him trying to catch her eye, but she looked down at the floor. She heard Vincent and Mr. Agreste praising Lila, and Lila’s laughter sent a shudder through her spine.

“These designs look so familiar to me,” Lila was saying. “I could have sworn I’d seen them before. I’m sure I could find them if I had my phone.”

“Nathalie, your tablet,” Mr. Agreste said.

Marinette turned to see Lila scrolling through something.

“Oh! Here they are. From the Giovanni Bianchi 2015 summer collection,” she said, holding the tablet out to Mr. Agreste. “They’re pretty similar, right?”

Mr. Agreste snatched the tablet and narrowed his eyes. “Yes. Identical, I would say.”

Marinette froze. What?

Mr. Agreste studied the photos for another second. Then he turned to Marinette. She stood, heart pounding.

“You cheated,” he said quietly.

“W-what?” Marinette managed to stammer.

“The designs are not yours! You stole them!

“No!” Marinette said. “They’re my designs. I promise.”

Mr. Agreste strode forward, towering over her. “And what is a promise worth when there is proof of your deceit?” He shoved the tablet in her face.

Marinette’s blood went cold. There were her designs. All four of them.

“I—I don’t understand. Where did those photos come from?”

“From Giovanni Bianchi,” Mr. Agreste said. “But you knew that already.”

Lila came up behind him. “Marinette, I know you wanted that internship, but did it really mean that much to you to win?”

Marinette felt fire burning in her chest.

“Oh . . . I get it,” Lila went on. “It’s because you have a crush on Adrien, right? And you wanted to impress him?”

“No!” 

Lila looked at Adrien, who was standing wide eyed in the back. “If you say so. But . . . you’re a really good designer! You didn’t need to cheat. Unless . . . ” She paused. “Unless all of your designs are stolen.”

“They’re not!” Marinette said, her hands clenching into fists. “All of my designs are original. I don’t know where you got those photos, Lila, but those are mine.”

“Where I got the photos?” Lila said in pretend shock. “They came from Giovanni Bianchi’s own website!”

“I—” Marinette looked around desperately and caught Adrien’s eye. “Adrien! You know I wouldn’t do this. Right? Please. Tell them.”

Adrien opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Mr. Agreste put up a hand.

“Enough!” he thundered. Marinette had never seen him this angry before. She trembled as he glared down at her with ice in his gaze.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, you are an utter disgrace. You are disqualified from the contest. Furthermore, you are no longer welcome in my presence. Or my son’s.”

Marinette’s knees went weak. What is happening?

Mr. Agreste turned to Adrien’s bodyguard. “Escort her out.”

The bodyguard looked at Adrien and then down at Marinette.

“My—my clothes . . . I need to get them first,” Marinette stammered. 

Mr. Agreste’s eyes flashed. “I want you out of this house immediately. Your things will be sent to you later. Now, OUT!” 

He looked expectantly at Adrien’s bodyguard. The bodyguard looked back at him silently for a moment and then shook his head.

“Fine!” Mr. Agreste shouted. “I’ll take out the trash myself.” He moved to grab Marinette’s arm.

Marinette took a step back, but she stumbled over something in her high heels. Her ankle twisted painfully, she heard her dress tear, and then she was on the ground.

“Marinette!” Adrien shouted, running toward her, but Mr. Agreste threw out an arm to stop him.

“I forbid you to speak to her ever again,” he growled. “She is a liar and a cheat. I won’t have my son associate with such scum. In fact . . . ” His steely gaze turned to Marinette. “Now that I know what your friends are truly like, I cannot allow you to spend your time with those kind of influences. I’m pulling you out of school.”

“No!” Marinette gasped. “Please. Don’t punish Adrien. He did nothing wrong.”

“This is your doing, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Mr. Agreste said coldly. “If you really cared for my son, you would be a more worthy influence. But you are not worthy to be under this roof. OUT!” He pointed toward the door.

Marinette felt like she’d been plunged into ice water. She struggled to get to her feet and took a tentative step, but her ankle gave way beneath her. Adrien pushed past his father to catch her right before she hit the ground.

“Go to your room, Adrien,” Mr. Agreste commanded.

Adrien wrapped an arm around Marinette and helped her to her feet. “At least let me get her home safely.”

“Absolutely not. Your bodyguard will escort her to the door. She can go home the way she came.”

“But she can’t walk!” 

“That’s none of my concern. Now go,” Mr. Agreste snapped at Adrien’s bodyguard.

The bodyguard scooped Marinette up effortlessly and carried her out of the studio, with Mr. Agreste and Nathalie following behind. Marinette felt like she was drifting through a nightmare. Any moment now she would wake up with Tikki telling her she was going to be late. Right?

But she didn’t wake up. The bodyguard opened the front door and set her gently on the top step.

Mr. Agreste pushed past him and leaned in close to Marinette.

“You will never design in Paris again,” he whispered with poison in his voice. “I’ll be sure of that.” He pushed something at her. A folder. “And take this with you. It’s worthless to me now.” He turned on his heel and slammed the door shut behind him.

For a second, Marinette stared at the wood, unable to think, unable to feel. She looked down at the folder—the portfolio she had submitted with her application to the contest.

All at once, the reality of everything that had just happened crashed over her like a tidal wave. She crumpled to the ground, clutching the folder to her chest.

Her dreams of being a designer . . . crushed.

Her friendship with Adrien . . . broken.

And now he’d be locked back up in that cold, unfeeling house without being able to go to school or see his friends ever again.

And it was all Lila’s fault.

But who would believe her?

Did Adrien?

Would Alya?

There were at least two who knew the truth—Tikki and Chat. She would’ve given anything for one of them to be there with her.

But she was alone. Alone in a ruined dress on the doorstep of the man who had crushed her dreams and called her a disgrace and thrown her out with a twisted ankle and no phone and no way to get home.

There was nothing to do but cry. So Marinette buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Chapter Text

As soon as Nathalie had shut his bedroom door behind her, Adrien fished his miraculous out of his pocket. Plagg flitted out from inside his jacket.

“This is not good,” Plagg said.

“I know.” Adrien slipped the ring on. “Marinette needs our help.”

For once, Plagg didn’t complain about having to transform.

“Plagg, claws out!” 

Adrien pushed the window open and hopped through. He was tempted to run straight for Marinette, but he couldn’t risk her realizing that he’d come from the house. Instead, he crept around to the front gate. When he thought he was at a safe distance, he broke into a run.

“Marinette!” he cried.

Her head shot up. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and makeup, and the look on her face was more hurt than he’d ever seen. His heart broke again.

“Chat,” she said, voice breaking, “take me home. Please.”

“Of c—” Adrien began, but then something caught his eye.

A black-and-purple butterfly.

Headed straight for Marinette.

“Watch out!” he yelled. He lunged for the akuma, reaching out his hand.

“Cata—”

But he was too late.

The akuma dissolved into the folder in Marinette’s hand, and the glowing purple butterfly mask appeared over her face.

“NO!” Adrien yelled. He gripped Marinette’s shoulders. “Marinette, you can fight it.”

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut and brought both hands to her head, still clutching the folder.

“Stay in control,” Adrien said desperately. “Tell him no.”

Tears leaked out from underneath Marinette’s eyelids. She opened her eyes with a gasp.

“I—can’t. I’m sorry, Chat.”

“No! NO! Marinette!”

Adrien stumbled backward as the dark cloud of magic bubbled over her. When it had gone, someone else sat in Marinette’s place.

A chill ran through Adrien’s body at the sight. He’d seen dozens and dozens of akuma victims before, but none of them filled him such cold, visceral dread. He didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the smooth white skin that seemed to be made of stone. Or the pair of feathery wings that sprouted from her shoulder blades. The golden sword that glinted wickedly in the sunlight. Or the set of golden scales that waited to judge him to an unknown fate.

But no . . . the most unsettling thing of all was the golden blindfold that hid her eyes—her last sense of humanity.

Was there anything left of Marinette?

“P-princess?” Adrien breathed.

The angel turned her sightless face toward Adrien.

“Princess? Yes . . . 

“I am Princess Justice.”

Adrien’s whole body went cold. Princess Justice’s voice was like an avalanche. The marble features had none of Marinette’s warmth, none of her charm. All of the things he loved so much about her were gone. A cold, unfeeling stranger sat in her place.

She stood, spreading her wings wide, and with one mighty flap, launched into the air. Adrien buckled under the weight of her shadow. He knew he should run, or fight, or hide to wait for Ladybug, or do something, but all he could do was stand rooted to the spot. 

No. Not Marinette.

Princess Justice hovered in place, holding her sword and scales aloft in each hand. Something bright caught Adrien’s eye. Although the scales were in perfect balance, only one side was empty. The other side carried a glowing orb of pure white light. He was so distracted by whatever it was that he didn’t notice Princess Justice raising her sword until its tip was under his chin.

“Speak,” she commanded.

He swallowed. He didn’t have words for Princess Justice. So he summoned up the courage to speak to Marinette.

“I’ll save you,” he croaked. “I’m going to make it right. Okay?”

Her face turned toward the scales in her hand. She lifted them higher. Adrien wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Nothing had changed about them.

“We shall see,” she said. The butterfly mask appeared over her blindfold. Adrien could imagine what Hawkmoth was saying. “Chat Noir is right in front of you, defenseless! Take his miraculous!” 

And why didn’t she? Why was she drawing back her sword? Why was she backing away? 

“I find no fault in him,” she answered Hawkmoth. “His heart is true. You will get what you have asked for. But not until justice has been served for Lila Rossi.”

Oh no. Of course she was after Lila. And . . . didn’t Lila deserve whatever was coming? After what she’d done to Marinette? Framing her, humiliating her, breaking her down into perfect akuma bait? And it wasn’t the first time. All those awful photoshoots he’d had to endure, all the times he’d had to stay silent while she gushed about their close friendship, even hinting that there was more—and she still double crossed him. His lips still burned with the poison of her kiss.

Was Lila even worth saving?

Before he could decide, Princess Justice—no, Marinette—raised her sword and struck the door. There was a flash of white light. Adrien shielded his eyes. When he opened them, there was a pile of dust and splinters where the door had been. Marinette swooped through the gaping hole into Adrien’s house.

For a moment, Adrien stood frozen. Could he really do it? Could he fight Marinette? He’d fought so many akuma victims, many of them people he knew. His best friend. His bodyguard. Even his own father. He usually managed to think of it as business. They were supervillains. It was his job to fight them.

But somehow, for Marinette, it was different. He couldn’t bear the thought of fighting her, even this version of her. He would never want to hurt her.

But maybe he already had. 

He should have stood up for her more. He should have defied his father, refused to obey. He should’ve protected her. He should’ve been there for her. 

His heart throbbed in his chest. He couldn’t save her then. But he had to save her now. Isn’t that what he just promised?

Adrien set his jaw and retrieved his baton from his back.

I’m coming, princess.

When Adrien found them, people were scattering left and right out of Marinette’s path. But she seemed to care for none of them but one. She cornered Lila, who was still wearing the sky-blue dress, and brought her sword to Lila’s chin.

“Tell me, Lila Rossi,” she said. “Did you conspire against Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

Lila had lost all of her usual confidence. Her voice shook. “Please. I—I don’t—”

“Stop!” Adrien shouted, holding his baton in front of him. Marinette ignored him.

“I demand only one thing from you,” she told Lila. “The truth.”

Lila’s eyes locked on Adrien. “Do something!” she cried desperately.

Adrien pounced at Marinette, bringing his baton down on her. Without so much as glancing his way, she parried his attack with the sword and sent him crashing into a statue against the opposite wall. The statue broke and fell onto Adrien, pinning him to the ground.

“This does not concern you, cat. You cannot impede justice.”

Adrien struggled to push the statue away. He looked up as Marinette lowered her sword to point directly at Lila’s heart.

“Did you lie about Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s designs?”

“I—no!” Lila said frantically. “I would never do that.”

Marinette lifted the golden scales in her left hand. That has to be where the akuma is, Adrien thought. The folder was in Marinette’s left hand too.

As he watched, still straining against the heavy stone, the side of the scales with the orb of light tipped downward.

“Your words are not equal to the truth,” said Marinette. “Therefore, you must be punished for your lies.” She raised her sword. “I condemn you, Lila Rossi.”

“No!” Adrien shouted, trying to wriggle out from under the statue.

“Have mercy,” Lila begged. She dropped to her knees, shielding her head with her arms.

Marinette’s stony face was expressionless under the blindfold. “Do you ask for mercy from the Princess of Justice?”

The sword came swinging down. Where it made contact, Lila’s skin turned pure white, spreading quickly over her whole body until she was left frozen in stone. 

“And the truth shall set you free,” said Marinette.

She swung the sword a second time. When it struck, there was a flash of blinding light. Adrien didn’t have time to cover his eyes. Spots bloomed over his vision. He blinked them away and saw the statue crumble into a thousand white butterflies. They fluttered away in every direction and then dissolved into the air.

Adrien stared open mouthed at the spot where Lila had stood just seconds before. A twinge of panic ran through him. He’d never seen anything like this from an akuma. Marinette’s power reminded him of his own cataclysm. The power to condemn, destroy, eradicate completely. She had to be the most powerful akuma he and Ladybug had ever faced.

And he was alone with her, trapped under stone.

Where are you, Ladybug?

Chapter Text

Justice had been served for Lila Rossi.

Princess Justice hung the golden scales from her sash. Hawkmoth spoke into her mind. “You’ve condemned the liar. Now it’s time to keep your word. Chat Noir is defenseless. Take his ring!”

She turned toward the boy still trapped beneath broken stone. Under her blindfold, she saw both nothing and everything. He was the first thing she had beheld with these sightless eyes, and she could still sense the righteous flame burning within him. She had no judgment to pass on him. His heart was true. But Justice kept her word. She would bring his ring to Hawkmoth.

With a flap of her mighty wings, she glided toward the boy. But before she could reach him, he had freed himself. He gripped his weapon, planting his feet amidst the rubble.

“Marinette,” he said. “Please. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to obey Hawkmoth!”

There was a flicker of light in the back of her mind—a sliver of truth struggling to break free.

Marinette. She knew that name. She knew this boy. Something deep inside her yearned for him. But the Sword of Truth could not be stayed.

“I am not Marinette,” she said, her voice cool and emotionless. “I am Princess Justice. Truth is my only master. I am bound to Hawkmouth by my word alone. If you give me what he seeks, I will not harm you.”

The boy took a step backward. “I won’t give you my miraculous.”

“Then I will take it.” 

She lunged for him. The clang of metal rang through the room. He pushed her backwards, and with another flap of her wings, she righted herself. She struck again and again, following the glow of his flame as he darted around her. The cat was quick, but so was she. Their dance led them through the house and then outside, where the sun burned resolutely in the sky. She hurled the boy against the wrought-iron gates, causing his weapon to fly out of his hands.

“Why do you fight me?” she asked. “I bring justice. Surely there is no nobler cause.”

“Justice is noble,” replied the cat. “But I believe in mercy too.”

“There is no mercy for a lying tongue.” She swung her sword again, barely missing him as he rolled away.

“Don’t you believe in second chances?” he asked.

“Did Lila Rossi deserve a second chance?”

He didn’t answer.

“You have detained me long enough. I have other work to do.” Princess Justice advanced, backing the boy into the corner. “Give me your ring.”

“Okay, let’s trade,” he said. “My ring for your scales. But only if you hand over the scales first.”

“Justice is blind,” she said coldly, touching her sword to his chest, “but not that blind.”

Hawkmoth spoke again in her mind. “Strike him!”

“I smite only liars,” she replied.

“Then grab his miraculous! The ring!”

She reached for his finger.

“Cataclysm!” he choked out.

Hawkmoth’s voice was urgent and sharp. “Stop!”

She froze, sensing the strange power emanating from the boy’s fist. 

“Wait until he detransforms,” Hawkmoth said. “It will take only a few minutes. And keep an eye out for Ladybug. It seems she’s running quite late today.”

She didn’t bother to correct him.

But she knew that Ladybug would not be coming.

The boy’s ring beeped. Princess Justice inched closer, lifting her scales from her sash.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Chat Noir.”

The scales were motionless. Truth.

“And under the mask? Who are you?”

Beep beep beep.

“A friend.”

Again, the yearning, the flicker of light. Even without the scales she would know he spoke the truth.

And who am I? she wanted to ask. But she kept the words locked in her chest.

Beep beep beep.

“Marinette,” he whispered, as if in answer to her silent question. “Please. Come back.”

The truth scratching at the back of her mind was almost unbearable. The light of his flame filled her chest. She found herself lowering the sword slightly, almost imperceptibly, her grip on it slackening . . . 

“Yes . . .” Hawkmoth’s voice slithered in her mind. “Soon we will know who he really is. And his miraculous will be mine!”

And then—her sword was knocked out of her hand. Chat Noir pushed past her, bounding across the yard to retrieve his weapon.

“No! NO!” Hawkmoth screamed in her mind.

She turned slowly, as if she were moving through water. Chat Noir vaulted over the wall. She felt his light dim as he moved away.

“Go after him!” Hawkmoth demanded.

As the boy’s light faded into the distance, the world came back into focus. The scratching in her mind went silent. Her mission was clear once again.

She picked up her sword, and with a flap of her wings, she launched into the air.

She was Justice. And she had work to do.

Chapter Text

Adrien’s boots thudded against the pavement while his heart thudded against his ribcage.

His fist still burned with the power of his cataclysm. He skimmed his fingers along the railing of a fence as he passed so he wouldn’t accidentally touch someone in the crowded streets. Several people jumped back as the fence crumbled under his touch.

“Akuma alert!” he yelled. “Get to safety!” 

His ring gave its final warning beep. There was nowhere to hide. The only place he could think to go was up. He planted his baton firmly on the ground and extended it, flying upwards.

“If you have to say anything,” he called down, “make sure it’s the truth.”

He barely made it to the roof before he detransformed, tumbling over the edge and rolling to a stop.

“That was close,” said Plagg. “Too close.”

Adrien sat up, sucking in a ragged breath.

“You okay?” asked Plagg.

“I—” Adrien shook his head. “I’m fine.” He reached into his pocket for a slice of camembert. “Here. You need to recharge.”

Plagg ignored the cheese and flitted closer to Adrien. “I know it must’ve been hard to see your gir—to see Marinette . . . like that. And even harder to fight her. You did good, Adrien.”

Adrien looked up at Plagg, but instead of seeing green and black, he saw white and gold—a cold stone face, a blindfold shining in the sunlight, a stranger with the voice of an avalanche speaking with Marinette’s lips.

A lump formed in his throat. “But I couldn’t save her. I can’t do it.”

“Hey, don’t worry!” Plagg said. “We’ll . . . we’ll figure out what to do.”

“Well, we won’t be able to do anything without Ladybug,” Adrien said, getting to his feet. “Where is she? She’s never been this late before.”

“I’m sure she’s—” Plagg’s green eyes went wide as he looked at something over Adrien’s shoulder.

Adrien turned. There was a tiny red dot zooming toward them. He squinted. “Is that . . . ”

“I came as fast as I could!” said a small, high-pitched voice.

“Tikki?” Adrien asked incredulously. “Where’s Ladybug?”

“I’m sorry,” Tikki said. “I can’t tell you. But she won’t be coming.”

Adrien’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t save Marinette without Ladybug. It was over. He felt tears well up in his eyes.

“No, no, no!” he shouted. “She has to be here. She has to come. I—I can’t do it by myself.”

“You won’t be alone,” Tikki said gently.

Adrien blinked against his tears. “Are—are you going to help us? The way Plagg helped Ladybug when I was trapped by Style Queen?”

Tikki shook her tiny head. “I can’t. It’s too risky to use my powers on my own. I need to channel them through a miraculous holder.”

It was then that Adrien noticed that Tikki was holding something. A pair of red earrings with black spots. They matched Tikki so well that he’d missed them before.

Tikki held them out to him. He watched them transform into plain silver in his palm. “But—we’ve already tried this before,” he said. “And I’m a terrible Ladybug. This isn’t going to work.”

“They’re not for you,” Tikki said. Her eyes darted to Plagg. “We need Chat Noir to defeat Princess Justice.”

Adrien’s fingers curled around the earrings. “Don’t call her that,” he whispered. “Please.”

“Marinette,” Plagg piped in. “We need Chat Noir to save Marinette.”

Adrien looked down at his fist. “Then what about . . . ?”

“You’ll need to find someone you trust to wear the Ladybug earrings and use their powers,” Tikki explained.

“But Ladybug is the one who chooses who to give the miraculous to.” Adrien felt panic rising inside him. “What if I make the wrong choice? What if I make a horrible mistake? What if I ruin everything and it’s all my fault and I can’t—can’t save—” His voice broke, and he closed his eyes, feeling a few hot tears leak out.

“Adrien.”

His eyes snapped open. He’d almost forgotten that Tikki knew his name.

 “You are not Ladybug’s sidekick,” she said firmly. “You are her partner. Master Fu entrusted you with your miraculous the same way he entrusted Ladybug with hers. And he made the right choice.”

A tear rolled down Adrien’s cheek. He brushed it away.

“You wield the power of destruction,” Tikki went on. “That is not something to be taken lightly. But you have always used your power for good. You are worthy of it. You are meant for it. You are more capable than you realize. And you can do this. Ladybug needs Chat Noir. And so does . . . ” She looked to Plagg.

“So does Marinette,” Plagg finished. He smiled. “You got this, kid. I believe in you.”

Adrien took a shaky break and swallowed down the rest of his tears. He opened his fist and stared down at the earrings.

“There’s no time to lose,” Tikki said. “Do you have someone in mind?”

“Yeah. I do.” He tossed the camembert to Plagg. “Eat up. It’s time to go.”

Plagg stuffed the entire slice into his mouth and swallowed. “Where?”

Adrien smiled. “To catch a Ladyblogger.”

As Adrien had guessed, she wasn’t hard to find. He knew that when he found Marinette, Alya would be close by. She was crouched behind a wall, peering around the corner to watch the action. But something was different than he expected.

“No phone?” he asked as he dropped down beside her, causing her to jump. “Thought you’d want to capture this for the Ladyblog.”

Alya blinked. “Are you kidding? My best friend has been akumatized. Blogging is the last thing I’m thinking of.”

She turned back to peek around the corner again. “It’s . . . kind of scary to see her like that. Terrifying, actually. I mean, with most akuma victims, you can at least sense a piece of them still there. You can even get through to them sometimes. But this . . . ” She turned back to Adrien, her eyes wide and fearful behind her glasses. “It’s like there’s nothing left of her at all.”

Adrien’s mouth went dry. “I know.” 

“She was at the Agreste place earlier, doing a photoshoot.” Alya frowned. “Something must’ve gone horribly wrong. Do you know what happened?”

A dozen images flashed through Adrien’s mind. Marinette, wearing a silver dress and a dazzling smile. Marinette, broken and defeated on the floor. Marinette, sobbing on the front steps of his house. Marinette, with a butterfly mask over her face . . . 

“No,” he said. “I don’t know what happened.” The lie tasted like poison in his mouth. He imagined the golden scales tipping downward and shook the thought away. Sometimes lies were necessary.

“Have you been watching a while?” he asked. “How many people has she—?”

“I don’t know. Dozens.” Alya looked up at Adrien anxiously. “It’s bad, isn’t it? She’s got to be one of the most powerful akumas ever. The way she smites them and then”—she shuddered—“poof.”

“She’s definitely at the top of the list,” Adrien said. “But nothing we can’t handle.” He mustered a smile that was much more confident than he felt.

Alya looked around him. “Speaking of ‘we’ . . . where’s Ladybug?”

“She, uh . . . she can’t make it.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Um, when I said ‘we,’ I actually wasn’t talking about her. I was talking about you.” Adrien held out his hand and uncurled his fingers. The red of the earrings stood out against his black gloves.

Alya’s jaw dropped. “Wait, you want me to wear the Ladybug miraculous?”

Adrien looked into her eyes. “Can I trust you?”

“Of—of course.”

“I think you’re perfect for the job. After all, you’re Ladybug’s number-one fan, right?”

“Right.” Alya took the earrings, and Tikki swirled out of them.

“This is Tikki,” Adrien began. “She’s a—”

“Kwami,” Alya finished for him. “Yeah, I know the drill.”

“You—you do?”

“Yep,” Alya said as she fastened the earrings in place. “Nice to meet you, Tikki.”

“You too!” Tikki said.

“Wait, are you . . . ” Adrien narrowed his eyes. They did look alike . . . “Rena Rouge?”

“Yep.”

Wow. The whole time, Rena was Alya? So who was . . . ? Adrien shook his head. Now was not the time to think about it.

“You’ll have to give the miraculous back to me as soon as we’re done,” he said.

Alya nodded. She turned to Tikki. “What’s the transformation phrase?”

“It’s ‘spots on.’”

“Okay.” Alya planted her feet apart. “Tikki, spots on!”

There was a flurry of pink light, and then Alya was wearing a black-and-red mask and a ponytail. Her costume had the same spots as Ladybug’s, but like her Rena Rouge costume, it was black from her knees to her feet and from her fingers up past her elbow.

But Alya didn’t bother to examine her new outfit. Her jaw was set.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng is one of the kindest, most loyal, and most genuine people I know. She’s the best friend I’ve ever had. I won’t give up until we bring her back.”

Adrien felt some of the tension drain from his body. He had made the right choice.

“So what’s the plan?” Alya asked. 

“Um . . . don’t lie,” Adrien said. “And don’t . . . die.”

“Smart.” Alya unfastened the yo-yo and gave it a few tentative spins.

“The akuma is in the scales,” Adrien said. “Hopefully your lucky charm will give us something that helps me get close enough to her to use my powers to break them. Then you have to be ready to purify the akuma. Got it?”

She nodded. “I’m ready.”

Adrien extended his baton.

“Then let’s go save Marinette.”

Chapter Text

The city of Paris reeked of injustice.

Liars milled about the streets, mingling with the righteous, brushing their dark, twisted souls against the pure and bright ones. The stench of their secret sins hung in the air like a fog.

Princess Justice moved slowly, purposefully through the streets. She sensed the people scatter before her, tasted their fear on her tongue. There was so much work to do. So many to set free. But justice could not be rushed. Nor could it be delayed. The city was trapped under the shadow of her sword. It did not matter how long it took. She would purify it, soul by soul.

One of the blackened souls brushed against the corner of her consciousness. 

She turned, considering him, sampling the bitter flavor of his deceit. 

“Have you been cheating on your wife, monsieur?” she asked.

A flash of panic. Behind him, a flicker of shock. Yet he did not answer.

She brought the point of her sword to his neck. “Speak.”

He swallowed. “Y-yes.”

The scales were perfectly balanced. She lowered the sword.

His sense of relief lasted only a moment. Then the rage and anguish of his wife swallowed it up completely.

“The truth has set you free,” Princess Justice said.

Others were not as wise. Even as they cowered before her, they spouted falsehoods from their crooked tongues. Her sword flashed again and again. She freed them all. 

Once more, Hawkmoth’s voice drifted into her thoughts like a pesky fly. “You carry out a noble work. But do not forget your promise. You must bring me Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous.”

“He will come to me,” she said.

And then, as if he were answering her call, she felt him. His familiar light grew brighter and brighter in her mind until it seemed to fill her sightless vision.

“Marinette!” he called.

Again, the scratching, the yearning, the desperate ache. Who was this boy to have such an effect on her?

But Justice could not be swayed from her cause. She opened her mouth to declare her true name, but then she sensed another presence—also bright, also familiar. Another worthy soul she had no cause to condemn.

“He’s brought someone else with him!” Hawkmoth said in her mind. “A different Ladybug. She will not be as powerful as the true miraculous holder. This is your chance to take them both!”

“Give me your miraculous,” Princess Justice said, “and I will allow you to pass unharmed. You have my word.”

“But we can’t allow you to pass,” the new voice said. “Not until we’ve freed you.”

Princess Justice fought to see past the brightness of their flames. “No one can be freed except by the truth.”

“Exactly,” said the boy. “And the truth is that you are Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

She lunged for him. His weapon clanged against hers.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he said. His voice had the desperate edge of a plea. “Please, Marinette. You know the truth.”

A string wrapped around her scales. Princess Justice yanked them away. 

“There is no Marinette,” she said. Despite the incessant scratching in her mind, her voice was calm. “I am Princess Justice, and I speak the truth with the voice of a trump.”

Both of them charged at her. She knocked them away with a single slash. But they were back again in an instant. Her sword flashed this way and that and she followed them upward to the rooftops. A series of clangs as she parried the boy’s weapon, followed by a thud when she knocked him down again. String caught around her ankle and tugged her sideways. She pulled against it, beating her wings against air until she heard the girl’s cry and the string went slack again. She swooped forward and with one mighty strike, the girl was sent flying.

Then, a yell, a twist of her sword, and she had disarmed the cat. He was sprawled before her on his back. She laid the tip of her sword on his chest.

“Do you fear me, little kitten?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said softly.

“Then why do you fight?”

"Because I have to. To free you.”

Free me. Please. 

“I will free you,” she said. “I will relieve you of your burden.”

She reached for the ring.

His voice was just a whisper. “Cataclysm.”

“No! Not again!” Hawkmoth howled. “We don’t have time to wait. Catch him in a lie so you can smite him.”

Obediently, almost automatically, she lifted the scales. But before she could speak, another voice rang out.

“Lucky charm!”

She sensed a burst of magic.

“A . . . rose?”

Princess Justice turned. She could see it in her mind’s eye. A fuzzy image, like she was peering through frosted glass.

Not just any rose. A pink rose. Like the ones that filled the vase on her desk. The ones that he brought every time he came.

He?

She turned back to the boy. She could see him now too—not just the light of his flame, but his face in her mind, blurry but still achingly familiar. A thousand memories flashed before her. Pastry crumbs. Video games. Soft blankets. Warm hugs. Night breezes. Starry skies. Sunrises. Tears. Secrets. Laughter. Silence. 

“I know you,” she whispered. Her blindfold felt as thin as tissue paper.

She sensed hope flicker inside him.

“Marinette?”

Her grip on the scales tightened. “Who is this girl? Who is Marinette Dupain-Cheng to you?”

“She’s . . . just a friend.”

The scales shifted. Lie.

“Now strike him!” Hawkmoth hissed.

“No. She’s—I love her!” Chat Noir blurted out.

She froze. His words sank into her heart. She could see him so clearly now, like the blindfold had been snatched away. His eyes, his tousled hair, every curve of his face settled into some well-worn place in her mind. The scales in her hands shifted back into perfect balance. Her lips parted, the breath squeezed from her lungs.

He loves her.

Hawkmoth was screaming in her head, but she wasn’t listening.

He loves her.

The sword fell from her hand and clattered against the stone. The scales dissolved under her fingers as the cataclysm burned them up.

He loves me.

She fell to her knees. A pair of shaking arms encircled her.

“Marinette.”

Her name.

He loves me.

Chapter Text

He couldn’t help but hold her, even before she was herself again. He felt her go from cold and hard to soft and warm between his arms. He squeezed her tighter, breathing in the familiar scent of apples and vanilla.

“Marinette,” he said again. 

“Chat?”

“You’re okay now. It’s okay.”

Something fluttered in the corner of his vision. Adrien let go of Marinette and jumped to his feet.

“Al—Ladybug! The akuma!”

Alya was standing several paces back from them, open mouthed, still holding the rose. She snapped her jaw shut. “Oh, yeah.”

She snatched the akuma with her yo-yo and set it free. 

Behind him, Marinette gasped. He turned back to see her staring down at the torn silver dress, her fingers touching the diamond earrings. She looked with wide eyes at Alya.

“Who are you?”

“I’m . . . ” Alya glanced at Adrien. “ . . . a friend of Ladybug’s.”

Adrien’s ring beeped in unison with Alya’s earrings. “You’d better fix all this before we transform back,” he said, pointing at the rose.

“Right. I’ve always wanted to do this!” She picked up the red-and-black-spotted box at her feet, placed the rose inside, and threw it into the air.

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

As the magic swirled around them, Adrien helped Marinette to her feet. She winced as her injured ankle was jostled. “We have to hurry,” he said. “Hold on tight.”

He wrapped an arm around Marinette and lowered them to the ground with his baton, Alya following close behind. His ring beeped again.

“I—we gotta go.” He looked down at Marinette. Her eyes were wide, full of shock and fear and sadness. He couldn’t leave her like this. But he had to.

He helped her to a bench to sit. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll come tonight. I promise.”

Alya was waiting for him. Together they dashed into a nearby alley. 

“So . . . are we gonna talk about what just happened?” Alya asked.

“There’s no time! We’re about to transform back.”

Alya looked at him seriously. “Chat Noir, you said you were in love with Marinette. And it wasn’t a lie.”

He stiffened. 

“How is that even possible? You barely know each other.”

“I—” The ring’s final beep interrupted him. “Close your eyes. And don’t open them until I say so.”

Alya sighed and closed her eyes.

He felt the suit dissolve away and ducked around the corner. “Okay. You can open them. Just don’t look.”

“I won’t.”

He dug in his pocket for two slices of camembert as Alya called off her transformation. A moment later, Tikki appeared, holding the earrings in her tiny arms. She made a face at the cheese.

“Sorry. This is all I have,” Adrien said.

“If you don’t want it, I’d be happy to eat yours,” Plagg offered politely.

“It’s okay. I just need enough to make it back to my owner.” Tikki took a bite and swallowed.

“Thanks for your help, Tikki,” Adrien said. “And you too, Alya. Without you two . . . I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

Alya’s voice came from around the corner. “I’m just glad Marinette is safe now. I should get back to her. Make sure she gets home safely. Her parents will be worried sick. But . . .  what about—”

“Listen,” Adrien said, “you can’t tell Marinette what I said. You can’t tell anyone. You and I were the only ones there. If you tell, she’ll know that you were Ladybug. You have to keep your identity a secret.”

Alya sighed. “I know. But if you really feel that way . . . you should tell her.”

Adrien didn’t answer.

“Don’t think this is the last you’ll be hearing about it from me,” Alya warned. “See you around, Chat Noir.”

He waited until her footsteps had faded away before he peeked around the corner.

“Tikki, you’ll be okay getting back to Ladybug?” he asked.

Tikki nodded. 

“Okay. Tell her we missed her. And . . . I hope she’s alright.”

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.” Tikki and Plagg shared a meaningful look.

“Is . . . something wrong?” Adrien asked.

“No,” Plagg said. “See ya soon, sugarcube.”

“Bye, Plagg. Bye, Adrien.”

Adrien watched Tikki fly away. 

“We’d better get back,” Plagg said. “If your father discovers you’ve been gone, he’ll be furious. And he was already in . . . not a great mood.”

Adrien sighed. “I know. I don’t want to go back. How can I even talk to him after the way he treated Marinette?” His hands clenched into fists.

“At least everyone knows the truth now,” Plagg said.

“Yeah. I guess.”

Adrien looked back toward the opening of the alleyway, to where he had left Marinette, alone and broken.

Adrien paced around his room. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Would you stop that?” said Plagg, looking up from his cheese platter. “You’re making me nervous.”

Adrien plopped onto the couch. “Maybe I should try calling her?”

“You’ve already done that. Four times,” Plagg pointed out.

Adrien frowned, scrolling through his unanswered messages.

Adrien: Marinette, are you okay?

Adrien: I’m so sorry about today

Adrien: Please know that I didn’t believe Lila for a second. I know you would never cheat. And you’re too talented to need to anyway.

Adrien: is your ankle ok?

Adrien: my father’s been busy so i haven’t been able to see him yet but i’m going to talk to him about the contest and the internship

Adrien: if you still want it

Adrien: i’m so so sorry

Adrien: Marinette?

Adrien: pls let me know that you’re ok

“Kid, you alright?” Plagg flew over and landed on Adrien’s head.

“I’m just . . . worried about her.”

“I know you are.”

Neither of them said anything for a second.

“So . . . are we gonna talk about what you said today?” asked Plagg.

Adrien’s heartbeat quickened. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” Plagg lifted off Adrien’s head and looked him in the eyes. “You didn’t want to talk about it with Alya, but you’re gonna have to talk about it with me. ’Cause you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not. And I’ll let all my cheese ripen under your pillow until you talk.”

Adrien swallowed. “What do you want me to say?”

“You’re in love with Marinette.”

“Yeah . . . I guess I am. Yeah.”

Plagg paused. “Alright, then.” He flew back up to Adrien’s head and settled into his hair.

“What, that’s it?”

“Yep,” Plagg said. “Just needed to hear you say it. To me. In here. Alone. With no one pointing a sword at you. ‘I love Marinette’ and that’s all. None of this ‘just a friend’ nonsense.”

“I . . . love Marinette,” Adrien repeated.

“Yeah. I heard you the first time. Well, the second time.”

“I love Marinette.”

“Okay, I get it. You can stop saying it now.”

“I love Marinette!”

Plagg sighed. “Maybe you should stop telling me this, and tell her instead.”

“But . . . ” Adrien glanced down at the phone in his hand. “Do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Nah,” Plagg said. “She just probably doesn’t feel like talking right now.”

Adrien sighed.

“To Adrien, at least,” Plagg added.

Adrien sat up. “You—you think she’d talk to Chat?”

“Only one way to find out, huh? You did promise her you’d visit.”

Adrien jumped up. “Plagg, claws out!”

As he crossed his room, he spotted his tray of nearly untouched dinner. The pink rose looked bright against the white vase. Today, of all days, didn’t seem like the time to break tradition.

With the rose in one hand and his baton in the other, he opened the window and jumped out into the night.

Chapter Text

Marinette leaned against the railing of her balcony, letting the cool breeze skim over her face and ripple through her loose hair. She looked out over twinkling lights of the sleepy city—the city she had sworn to protect but had nearly destroyed that day. She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat.

Tikki floated up beside her. “Are you waiting for Chat Noir?”

“No, I . . . ” She sighed. “Maybe.”

“Why don’t you just message him?”

Marinette glanced back at her skylight. Her phone had sat untouched on her desk ever since Adrien’s bodyguard had stopped by to deliver it, along with her clothes. Maybe she should just message Chat like Tikki said—she was sure he’d come if she did. But for some reason it felt pitiful to ask. Besides, if she picked up her phone she’d have to read all the messages people had been sending her. The concerned check-ins and the article links and the questions she didn’t want to answer. She knew they meant well, but she couldn’t bring herself to deal with it all. Not yet. There was only one person she wanted to talk to right now.

He’ll come. He said he would come.

“Nah,” she told Tikki, trying to sound casual. “I don’t want to bother him this late at night.”

Tikki frowned. “Are you sure? It seems like you could really use a friend right now.”

“But I have you,” Marinette said. She snuggled Tikki against her cheek and gave her a kiss. “I’m just so glad to have you back. I never want to be separated from you again.”

She tried not to imagine what might have happened if Tikki had been with her when she was akumatized. If she had been wearing her miraculous. She touched her earlobes to assure herself that they were there. She remembered the purple haze that came over her vision. The sound of Hawkmoth’s voice in her mind. The look of horror on Chat’s face. A dark cloud all around her. And then nothing at all.

She didn’t realize she was crying until Tikki wiped a tear from her cheek. “It’s okay, Marinette. You’re safe. Everything is okay now.”

She opened her mouth to answer, but Tikki was gone.

Marinette heard a thud behind her. She turned to see Chat stowing his baton on his back. Relief flooded through her. She brushed away her tears. “Chat—”

He threw his arms around her and wrapped her in a tight hug. She leaned into him, sensing her body relax, feeling him strong and sure around her, his heart beating fast against her cheek.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” she joked.

But neither of them could laugh. They just stood there, holding each other in the warm glow of the lanterns.

“I’m sorry,” Chat murmured.

She realized he was shaking in her arms.

“Sorry for what?” she asked. “None of this was your fault.”

“I know. I just—wish I could’ve been there for you. I wish I could’ve stopped all this. I—it was too close. Ladybug wasn’t there and I couldn’t—I didn’t think I could save you.”

Marinette pulled back. Chat’s bright green eyes were wet with tears. One of them rolled down his cheek. She wiped it away with her thumb. “But you did save me. I knew you would.” 

Chat smiled weakly and then let out a soft sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He rubbed a fist in his eyes. “This is stupid. I’m supposed to be the one making you feel better.”

“And you are. Just by being here.”

Chat looked down at her, probably noticing how red and splotchy her skin was from crying. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“I . . . I don’t know. I think so. Or—I will be.” She mustered a small smile.

They leaned against the railing of the balcony, side by side. Chat held out a pink rose she hadn’t even noticed he was holding. Something about that familiar gesture struck a chord in her heart. After everything that had happened, it was so normal, so right. For the first time that day, she felt like everything would be okay. 

She took the rose without speaking, touching a soft petal with her fingertip.

“What do you remember?” Chat asked quietly.

“I . . . I remember I was at the Agrestes'. At the photoshoot.” She closed her eyes. “Ugh, it was awful. I kept wishing you were there with me. Everything was going wrong. And then Lila showed up and . . . well . . . ”

“Yeah. I heard,” Chat said. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m so, so sorry. But at least now everyone knows the truth.”

Marinette sighed. “But the damage has been done. Now that my name is associated with a scandal, I’m not sure I’ll have any more chances.”

“But what about the internship?”

Marinette looked down at the rose, twisting it in her fingers. “I lost it.”

“Well, Mr. Agreste knows the truth now,” Chat pointed out. “Maybe he’ll change his mind.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think he changes his mind easily.”

“It’ll all work out. I promise. We—we’re gonna fix this.”

Marinette looked over at Chat. “We? How?”

“You and me against the world, princess.”

Again, the chord resounded in her heart. She mirrored Chat’s soft smile, a smile she knew like the back of her hand.

“Thanks, kitty. I can always count on you.”

For a moment, they were silent. Then Chat shifted beside her.

“And . . . after?” he asked. “Do you remember anything?”

“No. But I heard enough.” Marinette wrapped her arms around herself. “I hurt a lot of people today, didn’t I?”

“Hey.”

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Chat was looking at her earnestly.

“You can’t blame yourself,” he said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” Marinette said. “But—”

“No. Don’t do this to yourself. What happened today . . . it was a lot. It would’ve been enough to make anyone vulnerable to Hawkmoth. This was his fault, not yours. His and Lila’s. But you . . . ” He grabbed Marinette’s free hand and held it in both of his own. “You’re so good, Marinette. Which is why . . . ” His voice trailed off.

“Why . . . what?” Marinette prompted.

Chat looked down at their hands. “You’re . . . you’re sure you don’t remember anything? Not even . . . the very end?”

“Sorry . . . no.”

Chat swallowed, and his gaze flickered to the side.

“You okay?” Marinette asked.

“Yeah. I just . . . I have to tell you something.”

Marinette squeezed his hand. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I mean, unless it would reveal your identity.”

“No, no. It’s not like that,” Chat said. “It’s just . . . I learned a truth today.”

Marinette waited. Chat sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“I love you, Marinette.”

Marinette blinked. “W-what?”

Chat opened his eyes and looked into hers, and she felt all the breath whoosh out of her. She’d never seen him look at her like this, not as Ladybug and definitely not as Marinette. Like she was his favorite thing—the only thing—in the whole universe. Like he was a blind man seeing a sunrise for the very first time.

“I love you,” Chat said breathlessly. “I think I have for a long time. But I didn’t realize until today because . . . ”

He kept on talking, but the words were swimming through her brain, drowned out by the sound of her own beating heart.

He loves me.

“. . . Hawkmoth knows now, and you of all people deserve to know, but that might make you a target and I’m sorry it had to . . . ”

She felt warmth blooming across her cheeks and inside her heart. She was tingling from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

He loves me.

“. . . and, um, you don’t have to say anything right now—or ever, if you don’t want to. I don’t want to make things weird or ruin our friendship . . . ”

The sun was rising inside her soul. Her whole body felt warm.

He loves me.

And . . . 

“I’m love yotoo!” The words tumbled out of her in a rush, getting tangled on the way out. Her blush deepened.

Chat froze. 

“I love you too,” she said again. It was easier to say this time. More natural on her tongue. Like saying hello to an old friend. Or singing along to her favorite song.

Chat’s eyes widened. “Y—you do?”

“Yes.”

For a moment, Chat just stared at her. Then his face cracked into the biggest grin she’d ever seen on him. They both laughed softly.

“Why, princess,” Chat said, “I never knew you had such a soft spot for tom cats.”

“Not any old cat,” Marinette said. “Just one pesky kitty in particular.” She reached out and tapped his nose with a finger. He caught her hand before she could pull away, pressing his lips to her knuckles. His eyes shone in the glow of the lanterns. Marinette’s heart stuttered in her chest.

“My princess,” he whispered. He brought his forehead to rest against hers. She closed her eyes, feeling his warmth and listening to his breathing over the gentle hum of the cars in the street below.

“Can I—would it be okay if I—?” he tried to ask, but her lips were already rushing to meet his. She had to rise up on her tiptoes to reach him. Still clutching the rose in one hand, she threw her arms around his neck. His arms wrapped around the small of her back, holding her tight, bringing her closer. But it couldn’t be close enough. After all this time, she couldn’t bear the thought of any space between them.

Funny how three simple words could change her whole world. Could flip on a light switch in her soul and reveal what had always been there hiding under shadows without her knowing. 

Now, with her eyes closed, she could feel him everywhere, under her hands and on her lips and in her heart. She was bursting, overflowing. She loved him so much she thought she might break.

Her fingers tangled in his hair. He lifted a hand to cradle her cheek.

“Marinette,” he murmured.

She smiled against his lips.

He loves me.