Chapter Text
Marinette was not one for waiting.
In fact, she could say with certainty that it was the worst thing that she had ever experienced in her six years of life, right after getting scolded by Maman. Waiting was something she did not understand. Why wait? Why couldn’t they move along, already? It wasn’t like she was making them wait—in fact, she would absolutely love helping things go a little quicker, had it not been for her Maman’s stern words, or the beautiful silver dress she was wearing, with all the white pearls along the neckline and the hem that was absolutely not allowed to be soiled by anything at all this evening, lest she make the proud designers sad—or her Maman mad. Neither was her hair to be ruffled, her cheeks to be stained, or her self-control to be shredded to bits. Honestly, there were too many rules for a six-year old—but as her grandmamma had said many times: “My sweet erloghali, you have more common sense than a pixie has magic.”
Marinette didn’t exactly know how much that was, but she did know that a pixie was completely made of magic, so it must be a lot.
Enough to know for sure that she had no other option than to wait, wait between these marble pillars, wait in her most beautiful gown, wait right outside the doors that faintly let through the sounds of wonder and amazement. Dancing, laughing, probably food, too, all within reach—but no. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, proud daughter of the two most singular bakers in a nation of singularities, was not deterred.
She would stay right there, waiting.
Even though…
“Marinette-tsiya!”
The little girl whirled around with a frown disgracing her little brow.
“Ilari! I told you, didn’t I? No titles!”
“…But I wanted to sound cool.”
The little boy that was her cousin stood a little away between a pair of pillars and stared at her with big eyes full of enthusiasm that lessened only for a moment as he spoke. In fact, as Marinette approached him with a small sigh, she could find a hint of mischief in those eyes. It had her stand still immediately; Ilari might only be a four-year-old, he was capable of terrible things if he was set to it—especially if the mastermind behind his scheme was none other than…
“YAH!”
Marinette shrieked and before she knew what she was doing, she was holding Ilari’s hand and running as hard as her too-short legs would allow—only to bump into one of the pillars, blinded by panic first and pain after that.
A cheeky laugh filled the hallway. Marinette jumped to her feet, nursing a new sore spot and balling her fist with puffed up cheeks at the monkey that stood five feet away from her.
“Maksim…” she threatened, but little did it do. Maksim was already seven and much smarter than Mari. He knew that his cousin’s angry words would not last long enough to become something to fear.
He was dressed properly, too, as was Ilari; both wore a neat suit, with puffed up shoulders and gold trimmings. Ilari even had snowflakes embroidered on the dark blue of the fabric and Maksim’s outfit had been graced by several rows of frog fasteners glinting with golden thread on the front of his coat. Marinette could simply stare at those outfits for hours, she was sure—but only when she wasn’t angry with the wearer.
“Look what you did to my dress, Maksim,” Marinette said, brushing over the fabric to smooth it out again. “What if Maman came in?”
“Then I would say you tripped again and you would pout.” Marinette was already pouting, but she was not about to point that out.
“Anyway, Mari, why are you even waiting here? We’ve been at the party already—they’ve got cake and super-good cookies! I bet your papa made them!” Maksim’s eyes sparkled, while Marinette just rolled hers. Of course her papa had made them. That was his one job.
“And there is a group!” Ilari said, jumping up and down. “They were jumping on each other’s backs and doing handstands and—and it was so cool!”
“You should come already!” Maksim pressed.
“Marinette, you must wait until you are called for.” Maman’s eyes burned into the back of her head and Marinette bit her lip.
Why was she still waiting? They had even waited with dressing her this evening—Maksim had been wandering around in his good clothes since after dinner. She wanted to go in, too, darn it! Why did she have to wait so long until someone came to pick her up!
(She had only been standing there for about five minutes, but that was five minutes too long, anyway.)
And now her cousins were even bragging about her father’s sweets! She ate them every day, but it was still unfair!
Common sense, she promised grandmamma. Well, it wasn’t common sense to let a six-year old wait alone in an empty hallway.
“…I can’t,” she said, the fear of Maman’s haunting eyes too great.
Ilari put up his puppy eyes and started to whine, but Marinette was smart and whirled around, looking for the guards. Surely, someone could save her? Take Ilari away, and maybe even ask for her Maman?
She was about to call out for them when the door right next to her opened up and an attendant slipped out, looking around.
“Ah!” The moment she laid her eyes upon Marinette, she bowed.
“Please come this way, Marinette-tsiya-hi. Your honourable mother awaits your arrival.”
“Yes, yes!” Marinette squeaked and, forgetting all about the etiquette-lessons she had attended, ran right through the door, into what could best be called “back-stage”: a recess closed off from the rest of the hall by thick dark curtains that let nothin through.
And right before the opening in those curtains, standing in a sliver of light, was Maman.
“Maman!”
Her mother turned to her and smiled.
“Marinette, honey.”
Marinette wanted to run right to her, but remembered just in time. She looked over herself and, with her nose scrunched up in determination, patted down her dress, rubbed her cheeks and smoothed her hair out. Only then did she walk up with a smile that could match her mother’s.
“Maman, can I finally go? Are we going to enjoy the party together now? Will papa join us?”
Marinette bounced on her feet, feeling light and excited and full of the energy that was so quick to go and so easy to get back in her small body. Her mother did not mind; she was as calm as a pool of moonlight. Softly, she patted her daughter’s head and took her small hand in hers.
“No, honey, not yet. First, we will go to your grandmother, on the dais. Do you remember everything I told you about that?”
Oh.
Marinette stopped bouncing.
Oh.
“Tsaya, Less than a minute.”
“Thank you, Vanya.”
That’s right, how could she forget?
“Announcing, her imperial highness, Xia Bing-tsaya, and her imperial highness, Marinette-tsiya!”
The curtains glided away and in came the blinding lights of glittering chandeliers and carved candelabra’s. Marinette and her mother stepped on the dais and turned immediately to the marble throne sitting still a bit higher on the platform. As they bowed, a hand graced Marinette’s head for just a moment.
Grandmamma’s voice boomed loud and clear over the crowd beneath them—like a river running smoothly yet full of power over ancient boulders, shaping them as she liked, her sound carrying far to the those who thirsted to hear her.
“I thank all who have gathered here tonight and filled these halls with laughter and merriment, as we celebrate the day that I have dreaded and feared for a long time.”
Yes. Yes, Marinette felt the same. She hadn’t really understood up until very recently, had quite stubbornly tried to ignore it, even, but it really was getting too close.
“For this is the last night that I may spend with my first daughter, Xia Bing, and her family, before she leaves my wings at last, and goes far beyond our borders, our protection.”
That’s right: far away. Far from the palace, from her cousins and her grandmamma and from everything she had known all her life. Her grandmamma turned to the two of them in all her regal glory, a pair of sky-blue eyes looking right into their twin-pair with great sadness and even greater pride. She spoke up again.
“But know this, my daughter, my grandchild: no matter how far, no matter how long gone, you will always be part of this proud land of ours. Our blood flows through your veins; our soil is what has made your very bones. Until eternity, we will share this, and until eternity, this land will recognize you.”
Loud cheering from the crowd. Marinette’s sight blurred.
No! She wasn’t supposed to cry. She was strong, she was composed! No!
Cold, cool hands, this time on her cheek. Grandmamma’s bluebell eyes locked with hers again, mighty and comforting.
“And never forget that we are still here, waiting for the days of your visits.”
“Hear, hear!” someone yelled, bringing about a new chorus of cheers and huzzahs.
Yes, yes, she wouldn’t stop seeing this land, or this place. She would come over on the holidays and maybe even in weekends, and she could even call her cousins if she wanted to. They were going on an adventure, her mother had said—just her and maman and papa, without etiquette lessons and all that hassle. It was going to be great!
“Now, let us do what we all gathered here for: eat, drink, dance—make merry, as only the Nimareshi can do!”
But all of that didn’t change the fact that tomorrow, Marinette was going to leave, and say goodbye to everything.
-Twelve years later-
Marinette Dupain-Cheng was not one for being early—in anything. She was late for school, late for assignments, late for parties and chores and just about anything you could imagine.
So imagine what it felt like to fly right in front of (past) the nose of the akuma that had decided to ruin her otherwise fine day, because she had let go too early.
Marinette was always late. Ladybug was always just on time. Neither was ever, ever early.
Before the villain of the day, who called themselves Canire and was responsible for turning half of the Parisians in the city center into dogs, had the chance to abuse her idiocy and make some kind of Moon Moon out of her, she managed to swing her yoyo around a new chimney and pull herself away.
“Rena!”
the sound of a flute floated up from nearby and by the time Ladybug had secured herself on a roof, dodging two rays of dogifier in the process, creatures emerged purring and hissing from the shadows.
Ears turned and hairs raised and when the cats started running around, there was not a single dog that stayed in formation. They ran barking and tails wagging towards the illusions, leaving Canire all alone in the middle of the square.
“No!” they screamed, blowing on the akumatized whistle. “Come back! NO!”
“Chat, take aim!”
But she shouldn’t have bothered; the silver flash of a magical baton already crossed the square and hit the hand of Canire. The villain screeched in pain and screeched again when Rena Rouge jumped from one of the buildings and hit the dark whistle mid-air with enough force to shatter it completely.
It was quick work after that. Ladybug caught the emerging Akuma before it had tasted even a second of freedom and called on her miracle-remedy immediately after, red magic whirling around them and spreading out.
“It seems old duties come before the orders of a new master,” Rena concluded as she walked over to the victim, who was sitting in the middle of the empty square, staring full of confusion and dawning horror at the three superheroes. The sirens of the first responders were nearing quickly, just like the camera’s, but until then, it was part of their job to stay with the victim.
“I would rather fight a bunch of dogs, too, rather than listen to some high whistle.” Chat Noir rubbed his leather ears, his nose scrunched up. Were it not for that pained expression, Ladybug might have used the last dregs of her strength to kick him to kingdom come for that comment—she was never fighting a dog-inspired akuma with a pun-spewing cat ever again.
“I think I’m going to find a bin to puke in,” she said instead, fanning herself. It was the end of summer and still too damn hot outside. Not even a magical suit could keep her face from cooking in the sun.
“Aww, m’lady, you look as sick as a dog. Do you want me to get you some ice?”
Chat showed her a shit-eating grin as he walked up to her. She rolled her eyes at him.
“Please stay away from me. I might catch whatever idiocy is hanging around you.”
“Might need some ice for that burn, Chat,” Rena said, voice nearly disappearing over the shrieking sirens of an ambulance coming to a halt right next to her. The three of them turned to help them, but Chat kept on talking, twirling his baton nonchalantly.
“Nonsense—I am already well adjusted to Ladybug’s radiance!”
“Your French teacher must adore you, kitty-cat,” Ladybug said.
“If only you appreciated my poetry as much as she does,” he replied, and bowed to almost-kiss her hand, but his miraculous beeped and Ladybug was only just quick enough to push him away by his nose and jump away, yoyo already out.
“It seems that will have to wait for another day, chaton. Rena, are you coming?”
“Don’t let it dog you too much, M’lady,” Chat shouted as he extended his baton and launched himself up into the air. “You’re still my heart’s only master!”
It was only because her yoyo had already lapsed around some chimney and pulled her away from the boy—it was only because of the distance that she didn’t respond with anything other than a very loud, longsuffering sigh.
Rena Rouge was right beside her in a matter of seconds and dove into the nearest alleyway just before her miraculous lost its final mark. Orange light engulfed her and when her toes touched the stones, Alya Cesaire was standing in her place—and barely holding back her laughter.
“Don’t laugh too hard, Alya,” Ladybug huffed. “You’re not much better than him.”
“That’s why I can appreciate it more than anyone else,” she said, pinking away a tear. “Anyways, Ladybug, I had a blast. Thanks a lot.”
“I suppose that, as the guardian, I should give you a lecture about duty and enjoyment, but it's always good to have you there.” She let her own transformation wear off and immediately took a macaron out of the special compartment in her purse to hand over to the red kwami that floated down to her shoulder with tired eyes.
"Whatever would you do without me?" Alya replies, sighing dramatically.
"A lot more paperwork." Having fed and hidden their kwami, the two superheroines stepped out of the alley and into the daylight again.
It was a shame to have to detransform, really: now that the akuma was gone, the weather was kind of nice, and the city was bustling with life. Marinette wouldn’t have minded yoyoing herself over the shopping district or running along the Seine, high above the crowds. But Tikki was tired: As soon as the appearance of Ladybug faded away, the small creature would be happiest taking a nice nap.
“Anyway, what’s the plan for today?" Alya asked. "Do you have some time this afternoon? We could go shopping.”
“I can’t. I have some errands to run for papa, and it’s about time I start on a new page in the Guardian’s book. I want to be sure I can get past any problem that arises with the kwami as soon as I notice it.”
After master Fu had passed (pushed) the duty of Guardian on to Marinette, she had gone through a terrible time, filled with stress and anxiety at the mere thought of all the things she didn’t know and couldn’t do. The health of the kwami had been one of her worries, at least until Wayzz had taught her the bare basics of treating them. Neither Tikki nor any other Kwami had ever gotten sick, but that was no reason for Marinette to not stay vigilant.
“You’re worrying too much,” Alya sighed, but she relented: “Anyway, shall I walk you home, at the very least?
“You just want croissants, don’t you?”
“That does play a part, but you can hardly fault me for that.”
It took only a couple of enjoyable minutes to reach the Dupain-Cheng home on foot. They entered the bakery under the welcoming rinkle of the bell, only to find the shop empty—naturally: it was time for the afternoon break. Marinette sighed in the cool shop, wiping sweat from her brow.
“I’m really looking forward to that lemonade Maman made.” She grabbed a bag and started putting some small bread and pastries in, deftly closing the package before
“Remember last year when you spilled it all over–”
“Nooo, you’re going to jinx me!”
“ Girl, you got yourself permanently jinxed back at your birth.”
“Oh, out with you!”
“See you soon ~” Alya sang-song as she skipped away, waving at her best friend with the bag of pastries.
Shaking her head with a smile on her face, Marinette took the stairs two steps at a time. Once upstairs, she threw the door open.
“I’m home—“
Screeching stools, the sound of people standing up. Marinette opened her eyes and froze.
Standing in the living room, surrounded by her parents and attendants, was the crown prince of Nimaresh.
Her cousin.
And he bowed to her.