Archive of Our Own

“You're late!” Chloé exclaimed. “What if we miss our ship? We'll be stranded—”

“We have enough time,” Marinette replied, rushing to catch up to her friend. Her cheeks were warm, her breath was coming out fast, and she'd never felt so alive.

Escaping the palace to go into town was always a thrill, yet it paled to this moment. She'd left a note—multiple notes—and assured her parents that she'd be back soon, begging them not to accuse anyone of kidnapping her.

No one would suspect her when they made it to the streets.

Her outfit with loose sleeves and her sandals were taken from a servant, her face was bare, and the top half of her hair was tied into a high ponytail with a modest ribbon. It was a look she'd seen on many of their days off.

Chloé had only ever seen her like this.

“I'm not paying for you if we have to buy new tickets,” Chloé retorted.

“Yes, yes,” she dismissed, a skip in her step as they walked through the forest. The morning light coming through the trees was enough to guide them. “You are so generous for getting my ticket.”

“Your attitude is terrible,” Chloé accused.

“And yours is not?” Marinette replied, raising her eyebrows. “You'll never find a suitor like this.”

“I don't want one,” Chloé spat back. “I'm no one's.”

“Your idea of marriage is terrible,” she said.

“Yours is skewed.”

She shrugged. “My parents are happy.”

“Your imaginary parents that I have never seen, yes,” Chloé said, rolling her eyes. “It's—I don't want that right now, okay? I have my own plans. I can't set them all aside to wait on someone hand and foot.”

“Again, not everyone—”

“It happened to my mother,” Chloé grumbled out, interrupting her. “That's why Father had to die.”

“...You're terrifying when you say it like that,” she said. “Anyone would think that you were involved with it.”

Chloé scoffed. “Yes, I was a two-year-old holding the knife.”

She nodded. “Believable.”

“I did the killing stab.”

Marinette hummed. “Yes, I can see it now...”

“Can you stop fantasising about me and hurry up?” Chloé demanded. “We cannot miss this ship. If my mother gets wind that I'm trying to escape this sorry excuse of a country, I'm going to be grounded for the rest of my life.”

She wasn't upset in the slightest.

Increasing her speed so she was slightly winded, Marinette had to point out, “We're coming back, you know.”

“Not before we've had our fair share of traumatic experiences,” Chloé said. “This is our only chance.”

“...To be traumatised?” she questioned.

“In a foreign country? Yes.”

“What? No!” Marinette was appalled. “That sounds terrible—”

“I have all the money, so you need to listen to me.”

“I have money!” she exclaimed.

Chloé sent her a pitying look. “I'm sure you do.”

“I do!” she said, wildly gesturing to the pouch at her waist. “I have enough for our whole journey—”

“Oh, honey,” Chloé interrupted condescendingly, stopping to a halt when they reached the edge of the forest. The path to the town was within view. “Heartpond is nothing like here. You'll be bled dry within a few hours.”

Marinette squinted. “How poor do you think I am?”

“Very,” Chloé bluntly replied. “It's okay, I'll pay for you. I can't have you starving while you're under my watch. Your mysterious parents might put a hit out on me if you die there.”

It was ironic.

None of the staff at the palace would ever talk to her like this. A lot had grown up with her and treated her like a child, of course, and then some were so nervous whenever she approached that no interesting conversation ever happened.

Chloé was a breath of fresh air that she didn't quite know what to do with.

When they got to the port, the majority of the passengers were well-dressed with luggage. There was someone checking tickets upfront.

“Are you sure we don't need any belongings?” Marinette questioned nervously, smoothing out her clothes to try and appear presentable. “We're going to stick out here.”

“Wrong, they're going to stick out horribly when they get off,” Chloé responded matter-of-factly. “We need to buy more... western clothes when we're out there or else everyone's going to look at us.”

She glanced down. “It can't be that bad.”

“I don't need any extra attention, I already look like my mother enough,” Chloé pointed out. “I don't want to be exiled as well.”

“...You won't be exiled for that.”

“You never know, people are petty,” Chloé said. “What if there's a relative out there looking for revenge? They'll see the resemblance and attempt to assassinate me on the spot.”

“It's been sixteen years.”

Chloé wasn't convinced. “Again, people are petty.”

She stopped trying to fight it.

Surprisingly, getting onto the ship was easy. As soon as Chloé whipped out her fake smile and showed their tickets, they were granted passage without any problems.

No one asked any questions.

Their journey was an ambitious one. It wasn't a neighbouring country they were going to; rather, it would take roughly a month to reach Heartpond.

By the time she was found to be missing at home, they'd be far away enough on the ocean that no one could stop her. Contacting the tower for help would take a few days for a response unless her parents overreacted.

She was jittery.

With every new passenger on board, Marinette tried to make herself smaller to avoid detection. Chloé gave her a few weird looks for it until she relaxed later when they set sail.

Venturing into the town in disguise was as far as she'd gone before—and now she was going across the world! To a place that she'd only read about in books and seen expensive portraits of.

It was a dream come true.

Marinette was horrendously seasick.

To make matters worse, Chloé hadn't quite thought their plans through. For being so smug and saying they didn't need to bring any luggage, they only had one outfit each for the month-long journey.

Chloé ended up buying clothes from another woman.

Although they were too short on Chloé and too long on Marinette, it was the only option they had.

Chloé wouldn't accept criticism, of course. “See? I've got it all figured out.”

Marinette looked down to where sleeves covered her hands entirely.

“You won't get sunburnt this way,” Chloé said.

“Don't pretend this is fine.”

“Everything is fine,” Chloé insisted, putting her hands on her hips. “I got us this far, haven't I? You can trust me completely.”

“I don't trust you at all,” she replied without hesitation.

Chloé glared. “You're lucky you're cute.”

She was taken aback. “Huh?”

“I'd beat up anyone else for saying that to me,” Chloé said, putting her hands together to click her fingers. “I won't tarnish you, however. Any bruises will lower your selling price when we make it to Heartpond.”

She scoffed. “Very funny.”

“You'll be a pretty slave—”

“Slavery is illegal,” she shot back.

Chloé beamed. “Mother told me where the black market is.”

“I'm sure she did,” Marinette said, unconvinced. “Why would your mother ever visit there?”

“A lot of nobles did, maybe they still do,” Chloé said.

She laughed. “Was it to attract a better spouse?”

Chloé was offended. “Excuse me?”

“You said nobles attended!”

“My mother was a noble,” Chloé proclaimed, glaring at her. “She married down to my father.”

Marinette stared at her friend, waiting for her to say that it was a joke.

It never came.

“Pardon?” she questioned.

“You heard me,” Chloé said.

“This is the first I'm hearing this at all,” Marinette replied, bewildered. “Your mother was—”

“Oh, fuck off,” Chloé snapped. “You must know the rumours! Everyone does!”

She swallowed. “I can't say I do.”

Chloé wasn't convinced.

Marinette didn't look away.

Eventually, Chloé's glare faded away to a frown. “You haven't?”

“No,” she confirmed. “I'm not one to... listen to gossip? I mean, I don't have any friends other than you, so.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Marinette repeated.

There was a beat of silence.

Then, Chloé happily proclaimed, “Well, I'm not telling you.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

“I'm never telling you,” Chloé clarified, looking at her in suspicion.

“That's fine,” Marinette said.

Chloé narrowed her eyes.

She shrugged.

Marinette was sick of fish.

On the plus side, this was the most time she'd ever spent with Chloé. Normally it was only a few hours where they could be together, now they were there the whole time. They shared a bedroom, one washed while the other stood guard for safety, and they were always together.

“There's strength in numbers,” Chloé claimed. “Mother always said to never be alone in public.”

Marinette nodded. “My parents say the same.”

Chloé gave her a knowing look. “Is that why I found you lost in the forest?”

She winced. “It was dark.”

“It's always dark at night, dumbass,” Chloé replied fondly.

“I'd never been out that far before!”

“I understand that you're a little... dim,” Chloé said, patting her on the shoulder. “I accept you for your faults.”

Marinette slapped her hand away. “You're so rude.”

“Rude would be telling you that your clothes don't suit you,” Chloé remarked.

She retorted, “Neither do yours!”

“Should we burn them when we get to land?” Chloé proposed. “We'll make a whole event of it—”

“No, that's disrespectful,” Marinette replied. “Can we... donate them? I'm sure that's a thing where we're going.”

“Eh, I guess so,” Chloé said. “That's far more boring than my idea.”

“Your ideas are always terrible,” she muttered. “That's why I keep throwing up.”

“That's because you're weak,” Chloé told her matter-of-factly. “You can't handle the sea because you're a little peasant.”

“You're also a peasant,” she retorted.

Chloé made a peace sign with her hands. “A rich one.”

She grumbled, “Check my pouch, bitch—”

“I'm not robbing you.”

“I want to contribute!” she exclaimed, slapping her thigh. “I can and will. You can't stop me forever!”

Chloé raised her eyebrows.

“Just you wait—” Marinette cut herself off when the boat rocked horribly, holding onto her stomach in horror.

Chloé cackled.

She raised her middle finger.

“My father's from Heartpond,” Marinette admitted one evening.

They were tucked into bed, bundled in blankets to protect them from the harsh evening winds. For as swelteringly hot as it was when the sun was up, nights were a different matter entirely.

Chloé bluntly asked, “Are you adopted?”

She laughed aloud.

“What?” Chloé demanded. “You don't look it—”

“I have blue eyes,” she said.

It was a fair point.

The majority of their nation had black hair, brown eyes, and tanner skin than Chloé. Although she'd spotted a few villagers that didn't match the colour scheme, their accents usually gave away that they weren't native.

Chloé's sounded natural.

“You think I stare into your eyes?” Chloé demanded. “I shouldn't be expected to know this shit.”

“I'm not—that's not my point,” she said through her laughter, delighted at Chloé's reaction. “I can't even remember the name of his village. I don't know... anything.”

For a moment, she thought that was the end of it.

Then, Chloé admitted, “Well, me neither. Mother doesn't like to talk about such a bad part of her life.”

Marinette didn't know what to say.

“She was exiled, I get it,” Chloé continued, ranting with sudden enthusiasm. From the sound of the duvet moving, Chloé had either kicked it off in frustration or sat up. “Would it kill her to tell me a little about where I came from?”

“Was she from the capital?” she asked.

“Yes, Honeyfell,” Chloé said, spitting out the city's name with distaste. “I don't remember anything. As much as I hate that bastard, I don't even have a portrait of my father.”

“I've seen portraits of my grandparents,” Marinette offered. “They passed before I was born.”

“And they look nothing like you?”

“They look more like you,” she agreed.

Chloé snorted. “That's because I'm technically a foreigner.”

“No, you're an official citizen of Everview,” she reminded her. “You're not there illegally.”

Chloé snorted. “Like you care about the law.”

“I think you have a low opinion of me—”

“Low?” Chloé repeated incredulously. “I'm pretty sure you're a thief, but whatever. Eat the rich.”

“I'm not a thief!” Marinette exclaimed, sitting up in outrage. “I have never taken something from you—”

“That I know of,” Chloé said.

“Oh, I'm going to hurt you,” she threatened.

“Scary,” Chloé teased.

“I'm going to sleep,” she grumpily announced, flopping over and pulling the blanket right around her shoulder. “Good night, asshole.”

“Night, Mari.”

It was the first time Chloé had called her a nickname.

Three weeks into their journey, Chloé announced that it was time to go.

Marinette wasn't impressed.

“Go?” she questioned. “Where do you suggest we go? To the dining hall?”

With the sun shining down, Chloé's blonde hair made her look angelic. “I have decided that you're trustworthy now.”

Marinette sighed. “Have you now?”

“Yes,” Chloé said, holding out her hand.

She stared at it.

“Idiot,” Chloé muttered, taking a hold of Marinette's hand to drag her towards their shared chambers. “We need to be somewhere private for this.”

“Ominous,” she quipped.

Once inside, Chloé started to rummage under the bed, pulling up the sheet to fetch something hidden.

“What are you doing?” she questioned.

“Aha!” Chloé exclaimed, holding up a pouch. “We've still got all our money, we're fine.”

She didn't know whether to be amused or not. “That's where you hid it?”

“It worked, didn't it?” Chloé retorted.

She didn't reply.

After Chloé attached it to her pouch, she turned towards Marinette again. “Okay, this will be a shock for you.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows.

“I'm aware that you're... uncultured,” Chloé said slowly, putting a hand over her heart. “I do not judge you for your poor upbringing.”

“I don't like your tone.”

“However,” Chloé continued, speaking louder to ignore her. “I am going to open your eyes to the ways of the world now.”

Marinette stared.

Chloé was obviously waiting for a bigger reaction.

“Okay,” she said.

Chloé sighed. “You need to take my hand for this.”

Marinette took her hand again.

“Close your eyes,” Chloé demanded.

She did as she was told.

“Open them.”

Marinette did, only to feel breathless.

They weren't in their chambers any more.

There were people all around them, the street was crowded and loud, and this wasn't the ship that they'd been on for weeks.

Marinette spluttered, “This—”

“Clothes first,” Chloé announced, dragging her along down the street. “I'll tell you everything when we're somewhere private.”

The plan was followed. Their old clothes were traded in for attire that wasn't the style of Everview at all. Marinette was confused by the garments at first, so Chloé snatched them out of her hand and dressed her.

“What are you, a princess?” Chloé snapped.

“Culturally ignorant,” she replied with a laugh, feeling dazed.

It was hard to believe it was real.

Chloé insisted on not talking about it yet.

“This hairstyle won't work either,” Chloé said, pulling the ribbon out of Marinette's half-ponytail. “I'll do something better.”

“Braids?”

“No, hairstyles are different here, too,” Chloé said. “I think they're worse, but we don't want to stand out. I'd kill to put you in some pretty braids or buns.”

She had to ask, “Is this not private enough?”

“No, there's an attendant listening in to make sure we're not stealing,” Chloé pointed out.

“What? Why would they—”

“Later,” Chloé said.

It turned out, later was when they'd rented out a private room in a café. Marinette found it hard to walk in her new shoes—too used to the traditional sandals back home—and the long skirt's different design kept intriguing her whenever she watched it move.

She could tell this wasn't what the poor would wear.

From the people around them, Chloé was dressing them as somewhat rich.

The silk pouch was the only thing that belonged to her.

The architecture was different, too. As beautiful as it looked in portraits, seeing it in person was breathtaking. Chloé had to drag her along to hurry down the street instead of gawking at every passing thing.

So many people had coloured hair.

Merchants were selling fruits and vegetables that she'd never seen before.

And when they stopped at a café, the desserts offered there were ones she'd never seen before.

Chloé paid enough money to be placed in a private room.

Marinette was wide-eyed. “How much did you pay for this?”

“This hasn't even made a dent.” Chloé waved her hand dismissively. “This is the best place to talk.”

“Oh, yes,” she agreed, gathering her wits. “Since when could you do magic?”

Chloé was the one surprised. “You... know about magic?”

“What else am I supposed to think that was?” Marinette responded.

“You're not—you're not scared?” Chloé asked, confused. “Why aren't you screaming?”

“I would've screamed before!”

“The shock postponed it,” Chloé said.

Marinette laughed. “No, I am perfectly fine.”

Chloé didn't believe her.

“Tell me more,” she requested, clasping her hands on the table. “What else can you do? I can't believe you never told me you were from the tower!”

Chloé averted her eyes. “I'm not from the tower.”

Marinette blinked. “Pardon?”

“I'm not a registered mage,” Chloé said, glancing towards the door. “That's what I mean about trusting you—you can't tell anyone about this, Marinette.”

“But—” It was hard to find the right words. “Only those that belong to a tower are allowed to do magic. That's the same in every country.”

“Well, fuck that,” Chloé replied with more attitude than expected. “I'm not giving up my life to be a hired dog. I'm doing what I want.”

Marinette's voice shook. “You can be arrested for this.”

Chloé stared. “That's why you're not telling anyone.”

She swallowed. “This wasn't—”

“I already smuggled you out of the country,” Chloé pointed out. “You can't leave.”

“I'm not leaving!” she exclaimed. “I'm just—I'm thinking about whether we'll be arrested here.”

“I won't do any flashy magic, it'll be fine,” Chloé said with a shrug.

Marinette reminded her, “We appeared in the middle of the street.”

Chloé waved a hand dismissively. “No one screamed, we're fine.”

“We were close to docking—”

“No, that ship wasn't coming to Honeyfell,” Chloé corrected. “It was to some other town. I wanted to the capital without a record of us in case something goes wrong.”

That didn't sound reassuring at all. “You used magic for... potential crime?”

“I've done it for less,” Chloé mused. “I only really learned to teleport because I lived too far from the school at home. Walking in the snow was awful.”

Marinette had to laugh. “For that reason?”

“And to pick up groceries for my mother quickly.”

“You must love her,” she said softly.

“Too much for such an overbearing bitch,” Chloé muttered.

Marinette choked on her laughter.

“Now, let's order some dessert,” Chloé decided, getting up to her feet. “Yes, I will order for you. Stay here and try not to cause any trouble.”

She saluted.

Chloé glared.

The original plan was to start at a seaside town and work their way across the country. At least, that's what Marinette signed up for.

Instead, they were in Heartpond's capital city of Honeyfell from the get-go. It explained the bustling streets, wealthy people's carriages going too fast, and all the gossip circulating.

Honeyfell was shiny and new, Chloé's wallet was never-ending, and Marinette enjoyed every day they spent there. The inn they were staying in was a big step up from their beds on the ship, the clothes were getting more familiar to her—although she did miss her normal attire and hairstyles—and the locals were friendly to outsiders.

Although Chloé tried to blend in, it was obvious they were foreign.

Marinette never answered that outright, though. She smiled and laughed, smoothly moving on to the next subject with whoever asked.

“I need to fix this accent,” Chloé complained, burying her face in her hands. “I can't stand this embarrassment. A granny called me cute earlier!”

“And then she bought us lunch, so it's not too bad,” Marinette mused. “Everyone's nice around here.”

Chloé scoffed. “They're just excited.”

“What for?”

Chloé shot her a look of disbelief. “Haven't you heard the gossip?”

Marinette smiled. “Not unless it's told to me directly, no.”

With a tut, Chloé said, “There's a ball coming up.”

Her expression was blank.

Chloé sighed. “A royal one, Mari.”

“...And?”

“And,” Chloé said, stressing the word. “It means there's a lot of business nowadays. Tourists coming to visit, guests coming to stay—we picked the worst time to come here.”

“Well, you're the one that decided this,” she pointed out.

“I didn't know!”

Marinette hummed. “Still your fault.”

“Oh, you're so ungrateful,” Chloé complained, glaring at her. “I hope you get locked up by your mysterious parents.”

“It might take them a while to forgive me, yes,” she mused. “I might be missing for a few... months when we return.”

“If,” Chloé muttered.

“Haha, as if you'd stay away from your mother that long,” she teased.

“Fuck you.”

“It's sweet!” she assured her, smiling widely. “There's nothing wrong with loving your parents! I love mine—”

Chloé pretended to throw up.

“You'd be terrible at the tower,” Marinette mused, putting her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand. “I've never seen a mage as undisciplined as you.”

“You've never seen a mage, bitch,” Chloé shot back.

She smiled.

“Lies,” Chloé hissed.

“If you say so.”

Chloé bought far too many clothes.

“When else will I ever be able to wear this?” Chloé retorted when she was questioned about it. “I'm living my dreams, don't ruin it. And put this dress on, it looks better with small breasts.”

Being dressed up was normal. Chloé's technique was a bit rough and she pulled too tightly on Marinette's hair in the morning, but Marinette was having so much fun. No attendant would ever correct her clothing and call her a bitch to her face.

Today she had flower pins in her hair that would've fit right in back at home.

“Thank you,” Marinette said.

Chloé pulled a face. “Don't get sappy on me. You need to be presentable so we're not arrested for being thieves.”

“That makes no sense whatsoever,” she replied.

“You could've stolen the clothes—”

There was a lot of paranoia.

Chloé kept their home a secret, left most of the small talk up to Marinette, and grew agitated whenever they were near who seemed to be nobility.

“I want to visit the next town today,” Chloé announced, finishing off her own hairstyle. “There's a clothing store there that's quite famous. I keep hearing about it.”

“More clothes?”

“I'll do what I want,” Chloé retorted.

Marinette relented, accepting her fate with a sigh as she held her hand out for Chloé to take.

They kept the teleportation to a minimum. Marinette was unaware whether Chloé needed days to recharge her mana or whether it was because she was too paranoid that their actions would be noticed.

Either way, the shortened journey was a delight.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Chloé sneezed—

And then, she was falling.

Marinette couldn't get a scream out before she plummeted down to the floor, letting out a wheeze of pain when her back was hit.

“Fuck!”

It wasn't her that spoke.

She scrambled in surprise, accidentally hitting the man in the face.

It wasn't the floor she'd fallen on; rather, she'd landed into a stranger's arms and knocked him to the ground instead.

He was staring at her with wide eyes.

She offered a nervous smile. “Uh, thank you for catching me?”

“You're real,” he whispered in amazement.

“Yes?” she replied, very aware of the aches in her body. If this was how she felt, she couldn't imagine the pain that he was in. “I'm sorry for... this?”

He was stunned.

Marinette awkwardly tried to get up.

Only for the man to try and stop her, resulting in her flailing and attempting to get away faster—

“Wait, please!” he said, taking his hands away and showing his palms to try and prove he wasn't dangerous. “I—I really need to talk to you, please.”

She wobbled to her feet.

This wasn't the designated location. It was a garden of some sort with a sitting area nearby, a small bridge over a stream coming through, and perfectly maintained garden beds full of beautiful flowers.

There wasn't anyone else there.

Chloé was going to kill her for this. How would she explain to this man that she'd fallen from the sky? The nearest trees were metres away, so it wasn't likely that she'd dove off of one of them.

It turned out that she didn't need to lie.

“I've been waiting for you for years,” he blurted.

Marinette frowned. “Pardon?”

“You—you finally appeared,” he said, still sitting on the floor. His clothes were wrinkled and not adjusted properly, while his hair was untouched. “Where are you from?”

She took a step back. “I'm not telling a stranger that.”

“A... stranger?” he repeated softly, pointing up at his face. “I'm a stranger to you?”

“Well, we did only just meet,” Marinette pointed out, adjusting her clothing so it was on properly again. “Thank you for catching me but I really must be on my way.”

As she started to leave, he called out, “There was a prophecy!”

It caused her to pause.

Marinette glanced over her shoulder back at him. “What did you just say?”

He stood up, wiping down his clothes. “There was—there is a prophecy about a woman falling from the sky into my arms.”

“That could be anyone,” she said.

He glanced down at his hands. “It's you.”

“I'm a nobody,” Marinette lied. “This isn't—I'm not one from the prophecy, sorry. You should really contact a mage and make sure that you're not misinterpreting this.”

“Wait, please—”

“I must get going,” she said. “Again, thank you for saving me. I apologise for all the bruises.”

He exclaimed, “Hang on!”

Marinette ran away.

Surprisingly, he didn't chase after her. She rushed across the tiny bridge and ran through the gates—which were very much guarded—until she found another person, hastily asking them for directions.

She was still in the capital.

Whether Chloé had made it to the neighbouring town or not, Marinette made her way back to the inn they were staying at. When a few hours had passed, she bought some food from a vendor and watched a street performer for entertainment.

Chloé returned in the evening, exhausted and pleased with herself.

“I had a great time,” Chloé claimed.

“I fell from the sky on my ass,” Marinette replied.

Chloé laughed.

“I'm serious,” she said.

“You lived.”

She scowled.

It was out of spite that she didn't mention the strange man. There wasn't any reason to worry about it; the chances of her meeting him again were so minuscule when Honeyfell was so large. If she stayed away from the garden, she wouldn't bump into him again.

Marinette was fine.

At least, that's what she thought until she bumped into him again.

Chloé had caught an awful cold and was stuck in bed for the day due to dizziness. The inn had been kind enough to send the food up to their room. After spending a couple of hours in silence, Marinette volunteered to go out and buy something sweet to cheer Chloé up.

It was a sight to see Chloé try and sit up to reach her money.

“I've got my own,” Marinette proudly said, holding up her silk pouch in victory.

Chloé wasn't pleased. “You can save your measly—”

“Okay, bye,” she interrupted, merrily opening the door. “See you later!”

“You bitch—”

She had a skip in her step as she went outside.

The fashion was becoming more familiar. Since it was sunny this day, Marinette had on a hat with a pretty ribbon tied underneath her chin.

It was her favourite outfit thus far.

She stayed out for a while, talking to locals, and visiting the library before wandering towards a café to pick up a dessert for Chloé.

Chloé didn't want her there while she was ill. Marinette wasn't sure whether it was out of kindness or if her presence was an annoyance.

Although it was almost evening, the sun was still high in the sky. The weather was milder than back home, so the hottest hadn't made her terribly uncomfortable thus far.

It rained more, though.

Thankfully, there were still a lot of options left at the café. Marinette held her pouch in her hand as she contemplated.

“Do you have a sweet tooth?”

She didn't think it was directed at her.

Then, the voice sounded closer. “Miss?”

Marinette jumped. “Oh, I'm sorry. Are you talking to—oh, no, it's you.”

The man laughed. “That's your reaction to me?”

It was the same man from the garden days ago. He was as well dressed as before, though his clothes weren't ruffled this time.

Now he was standing, Marinette realised he was tall. She only came up to his shoulder.

Her gaze went between him and the desserts.

“I won't get in your way,” he said, gesturing towards the display. “You may pick first, I'll wait until you're done.”

She looked at him in suspicion. “You're not going to tell me this is fate as well, are you?”

His smile showed dimples on his cheeks. “My stomach called me here, not the mages.”

She waited.

“I swear,” he said, putting a hand over his heart. “The desserts here are wonderful.”

She muttered, “I don't trust a word from your mouth.”

His laughter was delighted. “That's... amazing.”

Marinette took a step back.

“I apologise.” He copied her, stepping away to give her space. “I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

Wasn't his reaction understandable?

If the mages at home told her that someone important would literally fall in her arms, she'd try and pin them down to talk as well. He'd only mentioned part of the prophecy.

“Okay,” she decided, looking into his green eyes. “I'll sit down and talk with you. We can sort out whatever... this is.”

His mouth opened wordlessly before it closed again.

As a peace offering, she gestured to the desserts. “What would you like to eat?”

He was baffled. “Pardon?”

“I'm buying,” she said, holding up her pouch. “Pick your poison.”

He blinked.

The plan could be altered to include her spending a few more hours out. Chloé would only be miserable with her there. And it was a public place instead of a private garden, so he wouldn't dare to do something untoward to her.

“I'll have the same as you,” he decided.

“I haven't picked yet.”

He smiled. “My answer remains the same.”

She gave him an odd look. “Okay, but if you dislike it, I'm eating it as well.”

It made him laugh.

He was very strange.

The owner was a woman who looked close to laughter as Marinette told her order.

Marinette tilted her head in confusion, only for them to look at the man beside her and crack up further.

His explanation was, “I'm a regular here.”

It explained nothing.

When they sat down at a table, the owner puttered over to the door, flipping the sign to closed before turning the lock.

Marinette must've looked on edge because the man told her, “It's to give us some privacy. We can't have just anyone hear about our... situation.”

She narrowed her eyes. “This loses them customers.”

“I'll pay for their time, of course,” he responded without hesitation.

She pursed her lips.

“If you wish, I could pay for you—”

“No, I have my own money,” she shot down immediately.

His expression was one of amazement again.

She undid the ribbon of her hat, gently placing it on the chair beside her.

It was different from the teahouses at home; the wooden chair had a cute cushion tied to it, the doilies on the table were elegant, and each table had fresh flowers in a delicate vase. There was a lot of care and attention put into it.

He saw her looking around. “Is it to your liking?”

“It's cute,” she said.

He smiled. “I'm friends with the owner.”

She had to ask, “Would you snitch about my complaints?”

“I'd be surprised if you had any,” he replied, smiling widely.

He had a nice smile, she could give him that. This strange man was pretty, tall, and he was charming even when he fumbled with his words.

She thanked the owner with a bow of her head when their order came.

He caught that. “You aren't from around here, are you?”

Marinette took a sip of her drink. “Next question.”

“I can tell,” he said.

“No need to rub it in,” she grumbled, setting her mug down carefully. The drink was just the right temperature and the dessert looked delightful. The tiny fork provided was adorable, too. “Why don't we jump right to the juicy details? Tell me all about how I'm your prophesied one.”

He hadn't touched his order yet. “You believe me?”

“It's too far-fetched to be a pick-up line,” she mused, carefully placing a napkin on her lap. “I fell from the sky, as you said. If anyone else caught me without... being warned, they'd probably faint from fright.”

His posture relaxed. “It was quite scary.”

“For you?” Marinette questioned. “Try falling from such a height.”

“I'd rather not, thanks.”

“Me neither,” she grumbled.

“Can I ask... why?” he questioned softly. “You were up there, I mean. I doubt it was from normal means—”

There was no harm in telling him. Chloé wouldn't be suspected.

Marinette bluntly said, “My mage sucks at teleportation.”

He blinked.

She nodded and took another sip from her drink.

“You... have access to a mage,” he said slowly.

“Somewhat.”

His expression was bewildered again.

It was clear that he was rich from his clothing. His status had to be somewhat high to be in contact with mages and know of a prophecy; either he was noble, a rich commoner, or someone that had connections and a way with words.

“What was the prophecy?” she questioned.

“That's—” He cleared his throat. “It's... a bit embarrassing.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Try me.”

The top of his ears grew red. “You're my true love.”

Marinette really didn't mean to laugh aloud.

His face crumbled.

“Oh, no,” she rushed to say, awkwardly reaching over to pat his arm. “I'm not laughing at you. It's just—they're not normally that... positive, you know?”

He swallowed. “Right.”

“The last one I heard was all doom and gloom,” she said.

His gaze was still averted.

In moments like this, she was reminded that her social circle wasn't exactly... wide. There were a few friends she had growing up, but they'd drifted over the years. The servants that attended to her never strayed into actual friend territory as Chloé did.

Chloé was someone she'd only met months ago, and yet they were travelling across the world now. It was against everything her parents had ever told her.

“I'm sorry,” Marinette blurted, feeling her face heat up. “I'm not... good at talking. I'm not trying to make you upset.”

“I'm not upset,” he said.

She didn't keep her mouth shut. “You sound it.”

He grimaced. “No, I'm—”

“If I'm your true love, does that mean we end up together?” Marinette questioned, adjusting the napkin on her lap before fiddling with the corner of it. “Or are we tragic star-crossed lovers that are never meant to do more than pine for each other?”

He met her gaze with furrowed brows. “You want to know?”

“Of course,” she replied, giving him an odd look. “Why wouldn't I? Prophecies always come true.”

“You... seem to know a lot about them,” he remarked.

“Well, more than I know about you,” she answered evasively. “What does the future look like, mystery man? Will your parents pay me a handsome sum to leave you alone?”

He spluttered, “My parents would never—”

She snapped her fingers. “Grandparents!”

“What? No!”

Marinette squinted. “Sibling?”

“No one's buying you off!” he exclaimed.

“That's a shame,” she said, disappointed. “I wanted a bit of drama. Unless you mean—are they gonna try and poison me?”

He was appalled. “My family are not criminals.”

“How am I supposed to know that?” Marinette muttered. “I don't even know you.”

“That's—” With a sigh, he pushed his hair away from his face. “Where are you from?”

“Are you that famous?” she questioned suspiciously. “Are you a wanted criminal? I didn't pay attention to any of the posters.”

“I don't recognise your accent,” he said.

Marinette almost laughed. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“It's cute,” he assured her with a smile. From how his expression was loosening up, they'd gotten over the part where she'd offended him. “I think all of you is really cute.”

“That's good news,” she said, still trying to keep a straight face. “I am your true love, after all. You have to like me.”

He laughed.

It was a nice sound.

“For real, though,” Marinette blurted. “You're not a criminal, are you? I'm not ready to be caught up in assassination attempts.”

“No,” he said slowly, “I am not a criminal.”

She hummed. “That's what a criminal would say.”

“I'm not,” he repeated. “My friend can vouch for me—”

“This whole store is a front,” she decided, clasping her hands together. “I've read about things like this before. Your friend's the same as you.”

There was quiet laughter from across the room.

His friend could clearly hear them.

He sighed. “...I'm not going to change your mind, am I?”

Marinette beamed. “Maybe.”

He rubbed his hand over his face.

She laughed aloud.

As nice as the thought of being destined to love this man was, it wasn't plausible. There wasn't enough time to get to know him when it would be weeks before news made it across the world that she was missing.

Her parents sheltered her.

They'd never wanted to put her in harm, she understood that. While she'd been stroppy as a teen and imagined running off—either by herself or some fairytale prince—it wasn't safe to do that.

“I'm not here for long,” Marinette admitted, tucking some stray hair behind her ear. “I just have to ask—are you attached to this country?”

“That's... an odd question,” he said.

“I probably won't come back here,” she said, taking her mug into her hands to feel the warmth. “I won't have permission to, I mean.”

He tried to say, “I could get you—”

“No,” Marinette interrupted with a smile. “I cannot come back here.”

His shoulders slumped.

“It would've been easier if your family were evil,” she mused.

He let out a laugh. “Yes, you're right.”

She took a sip of her drink.

His was left untouched and neither of them had had their dessert yet.

“Are you...” After clearing his throat, he asked, “What if I ask to spend this summer with you?”

She blinked. “The whole summer?”

“However long you're here for,” he quickly amended. “Only if you're okay with that! I just—I'd love to get to know you. I'm not asking for anything more.”

“Oh,” she breathed.

It hadn't occurred to her that he'd still want her after the rejection.

He was the one that had been waiting for her for years if his words were true. It made sense that he was willing to stick around to get a brief taste of what could've been.

And Marinette—

Marinette had never had a romance.

And now she'd fallen into her true love's arms?

Well, she couldn't pass up such a free chance.

“I'd love that,” she whispered.

His eyes crinkled at the corners from his smile.

She grinned right back.

Chloé's nose was bright red. “Where have you been?”

“I made a friend!” Marinette exclaimed, unable to hold back her excitement. “He's—”

“Ugh, no,” Chloé said, holding up a hand to interrupt her. “My head hurts like hell. You can gush about whoever it is tomorrow.”

She obediently shut her mouth.

Chloé blew her nose loudly.

Marinette proudly revealed the goods she'd been hiding behind her back, presenting the two untouched desserts that she'd bought at the café before.

Chloé happily ate one.

“And you agreed to meet this man again,” Chloé summarised.

Marinette beamed. “Yes!”

To be fair, it was a very edited version of events. Marinette knew not to go spouting off about prophecies; it would only cause more secrets between her and Chloé. She'd said that she'd bumped into the man when Chloé had lost her mid-teleport before.

It didn't change that much of the story, surely.

“You—” Chloé breathed through her nose loudly. “Do you even know his name?”

Marinette was offended. “What? Of course I do, it's—”

Chloé stared.

She pursed her lips.

“And?” Chloé demanded.

“You... don't deserve to know it,” she weakly replied.

“Right, sure,” Chloé said. “You go meet this strange man and get abducted. See if I care.”

“I'm not going to get abducted!” she spluttered, talking fast. “He's—he's fine! Perfectly nice!”

“I'm sure.”

She exclaimed, “It's just a summer romance!”

Chloé wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

Marinette buried her face in her hands from embarrassment.

Two days later, Marinette met up with him again.

She didn't expect him to turn up with a large cloak that swamped his body or the hood covering most of his face. Small tufts of blond hair stood out from where he'd tried to push it back a little.

Through her laughter, she had to ask, “What are you wearing?”

His cheeks were red. “It wasn't my choice.”

“Someone forced you into this?” she questioned, putting her hands on her hips. “You look like you're going to murder me.”

He spluttered, “I would never—”

“Who are you hiding from?” Marinette asked, taking a step forward to smile up at him.

“Everyone?” His embarrassed expression was cute. “I'm not—I can't really just... walk around.”

“You need a better disguise, then,” she replied, reaching up to tug on his hood. “This only draws attention to you.”

He grimaced. “Does it?”

“What are your sizes?” Marinette bluntly asked. “I'll get you some clothes.”

He was aghast. “I can't let you—”

“Would you trust an attendant to keep their mouth shut about you going into the store?” she countered.

He pursed his lips.

“Trust me,” she said. “I have experience in this.”

“I don't even know your name,” he whispered.

She laughed. “Same to you, mister.”

His smile grew. “You really don't, do you?”

“Nope,” she confirmed.

“Cute,” he said.

She tutted. “That's not sizes.”

Obediently, he rattled them off. Marinette saluted and ran off to the nearest store, channelling her inner-Chloé when she stepped inside so she'd be sophisticated and respected.

It went really well.

He held the clothes in his hands. “Wow, these...”

“Shouldn't you be getting changed?” she questioned.

He grew wide-eyed. “Where?”

With a glance around, it seemed he had a point. They were being suspicious down an alley with only one entrance; if anything, people would think the expensive clothes he'd arrived in were the stolen ones.

“I can hold up your cloak for some privacy if you want,” she offered.

He was scandalised. “And let you see my ankles before marriage?”

She glanced down. “Should I show you mine in return? We can be even.”

He laughed.

In the end, she really did hold the cloak up. When he was done, he wrapped his old clothes up in the cloak and held it to his chest self-consciously.

She couldn't look away.

He touched his cheek. “Do I look weird?”

“No, you—” Marinette stuttered out. “You look really good. Yeah. It's nice seeing you... like this.”

He wasn't convinced. “Sure.”

“It's nice!” she exclaimed. “Not that the, uh, clothes you had on before were bad. This is... refreshing. I haven't seen anyone pull this off like you.”

He huffed. “I look like a commoner.”

She beamed. “We both do.”

It wasn't bad at all. Marinette's exposure to the fashion over here was minimal, so she had had to talk to the attendant a little to get their expertise. His attractive facial features really brought out the outfit.

She poked one of his braces going over his shoulders. “This is fancy.”

“Fancy?” he repeated with a laugh. “I don't quite think that's the right word.”

“No one wears this back home,” she said quietly. “I feel like we're playing dress-up right now.”

“We are,” he pointed out.

Her hat had been discarded that day. She'd taken some comfort in putting her hair in trusted buns and Chloé had placed a flower pin on each side to brighten up the look. It was the most her style she'd worn since they'd arrived in Honeyfell.

“Well,” he started, putting one hand behind his back while the other was offered out for her to take. “Shall we get going, my lady?”

“Let's.” She delicately took it. “Where are we going?”

He grinned. “To stuff our faces, of course.”

She had a skip in her step as they started to walk. “Oh, I like that idea.”

“I'm determined to feed you this time,” he proclaimed, taking in a deep breath before stepping out of the alley into the streets. “You didn't touch your cake before. I cannot keep you for hours without giving you sustenance.”

She beamed. “Hours, eh?”

He smiled right back at her. “Hours.”

She adjusted her hold on his hand to make it more comfortable. “In that case, we should get something savoury first. I'm always told off for going for desserts first.”

There was a market going on.

With stalls lining the streets, carriages were not permitted to go through certain roads for the day. There were a few guards to keep everything under control, there were entertainers out on the streets—whether it be for children or adults—and he surprised her by purchasing a flower crown and placing it on her head.

It made her face feel hot.

“It will wilt,” she whispered.

It didn't deter him. “I'll buy you another.”

“And when that one dies?”

“I'll buy you as many as you like,” he replied, adjusting the crown on her head. It was the cheapest and nicest one she'd ever worn. “You look really pretty.”

Marinette beamed. “Of course I do.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled from his smile.

“It'll still look cute when it's dried out,” she said. “I'll treasure it forever.”

“A relic of our star-crossed love?” he teased.

She laughed. “Yes, exactly.”

“You're silly,” he said.

“Marinette,” she told him softly. “My name's Marinette.”

“Marinette,” he repeated under his breath, pronouncing each syllable carefully. “It's—it's so nice to meet you.”

“And you,” she said.

“I'm Adrien,” he replied, lifting her hand up to place a kiss to her knuckles. “Adrien of Honeyfell, in case you haven't figured that part out.”

It was so nice to put a name to a face—and a very pretty face at that.

“Oh, born in the capital, were you?” she questioned. “Fancy boy.”

He winked. “Born and raised.”

“Well, how about you show me the local hot spots?” Marinette questioned, holding his hand and swinging it gently as she took a step forward. “I'd love to see where you normally go.”

He asked, “What if it's the black market?”

“Then I'll know why our love isn't meant to be,” she teased.

Adrien laughed.

Chloé squinted. “You look very... rosy.”

Marinette touched the flower crown on her head. “I don't think there are any roses in here?”

“Your face is red.”

She giggled before leaning forward to whisper, “I had some alcohol.”

“Alcohol?”

“More than the one goblet I'm normally allowed at special dinners,” Marinette gushed, touching her cheeks. “And Adrien was so nice! Yes, I know his name now! We're kind of destined to be lovers, so it's fine. I'm in good hands.”

Chloé was horrified. “How much did you have to drink?”

She snorted. “Three.”

“You're talking so fast,” Chloé remarked.

“I'm excited,” she said, smiling giddily. “And I think I've got a crush? So much more than when that stable girl helped me up once. Gosh, I pined over her for months.”

Chloé sighed.

“We're meeting up tomorrow, too,” she gleefully announced.

“This summer romance is getting out of control,” Chloé muttered.

“Oh, I'm very much in control,” Marinette assured her, bouncing on her heels. “I know what I'm doing. Absolutely. This is fine.”

Chloé wasn't convinced.

“Adrien!” she called out, waving to get his attention.

His smile lit up his entire face. If he looked pretty normally, then he was beautiful when he caught sight of her.

“Marinette,” he whispered, saying her name in such a caring way that she'd never heard before. “I'm so glad you're here.”

She pointed out, “We agreed to meet up.”

“Forgive me for being paranoid,” he said, offering his hand out to her. “I'm worried that you'll disappear one day without a word.”

“I'll tell you,” Marinette promised. “When it happens, I'll give you a warning. Just—just don't be too surprised, okay?”

Adrien squinted. “Surprised that you're leaving me?”

“Yes, exactly,” she lied. “I'm sure you've had enough warning to get over it for now—”

“I don't think I'll ever be over you,” he blurted.

It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her.

Her face felt hot.

Adrien grimaced. “That was lame, wasn't it?”

“No!” she exclaimed, a bit panicked. “That—that wasn't at all lame. I didn't know what to say.”

He suggested, “Say that you'll stay here?”

Marinette huffed. “You know I can't do that.”

“I'm trying my luck,” he said, swinging their joined hands.

“You used all that luck on catching me falling from the sky,” she muttered.

“I feel pretty lucky when I'm with you,” he mused.

She cringed. “That was terrible.”

“It's still true.” Adrien laughed. “I feel like the luckiest person in the world beside you.”

“Oh, stop,” she begged.

His voice shook with his laughter. “Never.”

True to his word, Adrien did not stop. He showered her with compliments throughout the day; whether they were as simple as saying she looked pretty in the sun, or going as far as to compliment her nails when he kissed her hand again.

“This is ridiculous,” she said incredulously. “You don't have to do this—”

“I want to,” Adrien answered, holding one of her hands with both of his. “I need to get this all out before I never see you again, Marinette. You need to experience a whole life's worth of compliments.”

“I'll do it right back to you!” she exclaimed.

He beamed. “I dare you.”

And so, she did.

“Adrien, your elbows are so smooth—”

“Marinette, your hair's so shiny! Can you move over a bit to the right? I need to imprint this in my brain so I can commission a portrait of this exact moment.”

“I like how you lick your lips,” she said.

One time when she smiled, he remarked, “You have great teeth.”

“Stop,” she complained, lightly jabbing him in the stomach with her elbow. “This all sounds so insincere now!”

“You take that back!” he replied, aghast. “I'm more sincere than I have ever been.”

“I need a break,” she proclaimed.

“Let's sit down,” he suggested, tugging her towards a spare bench. “You can sit in the part that's not damp.”

She was touched. “So sweet.”

They were sitting close enough for their legs to touch. And when she caught him looking at her, Marinette shyly leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder.

He put his arm around her waist.

It was exciting.

“Are you...” Adrien cleared his throat, making it clear that he was thinking his words through. “Are you going to that ball?”

“Ball?” she repeated. “What ball?”

“The royal one?” he explained, sounding unsure. “It's—”

“Oh, yes.” Marinette snapped her fingers. “Chloé mentioned that! We were wondering why it's so busy here. Is it soon?”

He swallowed loudly. “It's... tomorrow.”

“Maybe it'll quiet down afterwards,” she mused. “We might be able to get a table somewhere to eat.”

“No, I—” Adrien breathed out loudly. “Do you want to go?”

“Not really,” she replied honestly. “I'm not into that scene.”

“Oh,” he whispered.

It was true, though. There was a reason that not many knew her face in the kingdom; the portraits that were passed around were from when she was younger, and only a few were allowed into the parts of the palace with the updated ones.

Marinette didn't enjoy people pandering to her.

It had been tiring as a child. When her parents realised how miserable she was, they allowed her to do what she wanted.

If that meant that her only friend thought she was a commoner, that was fine.

“How would I even get in?” Marinette mused. “I'm not a noble—”

“You don't need to be,” he quickly assured her.

She sat up in surprise at how fast his answer was. “Adrien?”

He didn't look away from her eyes. “Would you meet me there?”

“I don't know...” Marinette trailed off, feeling a bit awkward. “Would you even want me there? If you have to—to be in that scene, you'll be talking to loads of people. You can't be stuck babysitting me.”

His arm was still around her waist, keeping her close. “I'd want to be with you.”

“So, you are invited,” she deduced.

“I am,” he confirmed quietly. “And I have a free invite.”

There wasn't enough time to think about it if it was tomorrow.

“I don't have the clothes,” she whispered, glancing down at her outfit. It was one of the nicer ones that Chloé had purchased, but she doubted it was ball-worthy over here. “I don't—”

“I can get you them,” he announced.

Marinette squinted. “On such short notice? I don't think so.”

“It's okay—”

“Anything left in the boutiques would be there for a reason,” she pointed out. “Even more embarrassing than turning up like this would be to wear something ugly.”

“I don't care about that,” Adrien said with wide eyes. “I just—I want to spend more time with you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “In front of snobs?”

He was shocked. “Snobs?”

It wasn't the right thing to say.

Marinette grimaced. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“I'm sorry for springing this on you last minute,” Adrien replied, looking at her with a soft expression. There wasn't any sign of offence on his face. “I was too nervous to bring this up before.”

“Well, maybe you should've,” she muttered. “How am I supposed to say yes?”

He wetted his lips. “What if—what if I said I already have a gown for you to wear?”

“You can't steal from someone else,” she chastised.

“It's not stolen,” he said, smiling as gently as his tone of voice. “I commissioned them all fairly. All that's left is for you to choose what you'll like to wear.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Right.”

“I'm serious,” Adrien insisted.

She scoffed. “That you've already bought me clothes? Please.”

His ears turned red. “I ordered them before we met.”

Marinette stared.

He squirmed.

“Are you—are you serious?” she spluttered, leaning back away from him. It was his arm that kept her in place. “Adrien, that's—”

“Stupid, I know,” he finished for her with a bashful smile. “I was impulsive and should've waited to get your permission for it.”

“Permission to buy me clothes?” Marinette questioned. And before he could reply, she said, “No, I mean—that's just overboard. How many did you even buy?”

He quietly said, “As many as I could.”

“Adrien!”

“Mother agreed with me!” he exclaimed, suddenly gaining confidence. “I couldn't let you wear something out of date, so I had her help to commission what's in style currently. And if you hated it, there are... many alternatives.”

She gasped. “Your mother is in on this?”

He nodded. “And my father.”

“No, I'm not prepared for this!” she exclaimed, horrified. “I haven't even met them. Why would they—”

“You're my true love, idiot,” he provided for her, leaning forward to press a kiss to her cheek. “I'm sorry if this was too much. I'm—if this is the only ball I get to have you with, I want it to be something you'll never forget.”

“Adrien,” she whispered, feeling nothing but fondness for him. “I'll never forget you.”

He smiled. “Promise?”

“Absolutely,” she confirmed, copying him by kissing his cheek. “You don't need to buy me anything to make that happen.”

He cleared his throat. “I'll try and remember that.”

His face was red.

“Good,” she said.

It was a good look on him.

Then, she had to ask, “How many invites do you have?”

He wasn't surprised. “How many do you need?”

Chloé fussed over her for minutes on end.

“I think we're okay,” Marinette tried to say.

“No,” Chloé snapped, nervous energy coming out by making her sound more aggressive. “We need to be perfect. I'm not letting anyone look down on us.”

“They won't,” she assured her.

“They better not because I will stomp on their feet,” Chloé grumbled.

It was a whole ordeal.

Adrien hadn't lied.

With the ball in the evening, he'd told her to visit a specific boutique and give his name to be fitted for her dress. He'd estimated her size, so there might be a few minor adjustments that could be done before it was time for her to leave.

Her expectations hadn't been high.

At least, that was until she was standing with Chloé in front of the storefront of a very expensive boutique that they'd never stepped foot in for any of their shopping. It was one of the most expensive out of any of the stores, and the whole street was one that was only for those that were dripping with wealth.

“Who the hell are you seeing?” Chloé had whispered.

“A criminal,” Marinette replied.

She really hoped he didn't spend all of his money on this.

From all of the dresses—and she meant all since the entire store was only for her and Chloé—it was clear that he had more money than she'd ever expected.

No wonder he'd been so surprised when she'd bought his order at the café before.

There was one consistent theme in all the dresses; everything was elegant, well designed, and beautiful to look at. These were dresses she had not seen on the streets.

At her awestruck expression, an attendant politely told her that the dresses were sorted out in height order.

Adrien hadn't met her when he'd commissioned these. He'd been waiting, hoping that his true love would appear and accept his gift to the ball.

Her chest felt warm.

It was an ordeal getting ready. Marinette felt more flustered and awkward than she had in a while.

Chloé wasn't faring any better.

Adrien had thought of it all, though. Amongst the tailors, there was someone to do hair and make-up as well.

In the end, Chloé was hardly recognisable. Her blond hair was styled beautiful, the dress was adorned with more jewels than she'd ever worn before, and the gloves were sleek and elegant. All of it made her look sophisticated.

Fancy clothes brought out her angular features.

Marinette clapped. “No one's going to belittle you.”

“You should marry this man,” Chloé said, turning her hips to make the dress swish. “You can divorce him and take half of his money before we go home.”

She laughed. “What if I stay married and ask him to send me an allowance instead?”

“Maybe killing him off for it all would be better,” Chloé mused.

Marinette felt pretty, too.

She looked forward to Adrien complimenting her.

When the matter came of how they'd get to the palace, it was resolved quickly. There was a carriage waiting outside for them.

Chloé whistled.

Marinette elbowed her. “Shut up.”

“I didn't say anything, lovebird.”

Her face felt hot.

When they sat down inside, Marinette quietly asked, “Does this feel expensive to you?”

“Yes.”

She winced. “And all the dresses...”

“You hit the jackpot with this weirdo you're seeing,” Chloé replied, amused as she placed one thigh on top of the other. It was quite the feat when it involved moving her dress around to make it happen. “Introduce me to him, will you? I need to see whether his wallet is what attracted you.”

She spluttered, “That's not—”

“Maybe that's why you befriended me,” Chloé teased. “I am rather rich.”

“I don't need your money!” Marinette exclaimed. “I have more than enough, thank you!”

Chloé laughed.

She pouted.

The banter almost made her relax on their journey.

Alas, the thought of the ball had her fidgeting. Chloé had to slap her hand away when Marinette tried to fiddle with her hair from nerves.

“Your family...” Marinette trailed off, unsure of how to phrase it. “Do you know what they look like? Will they be there?”

“Oh, definitely,” Chloé grumbled. “Mother said that it should be obvious who they are.”

She swallowed. “Does that mean they'll recognise you?”

“I'm the spitting image of my mother,” Chloé pointed out.

“I've never met her.”

“Well, imagine me with a few wrinkles so I'm less hot,” Chloé proclaimed, tapping beneath her eye. “She swears up and down that I look just like she did at this age. I haven't seen any portraits to confirm that.”

“You know you... you don't have to talk to them,” Marinette whispered.

Chloé's answer surprised her. “I'm not planning to.”

“Huh?”

“I'm going to walk in there and be so damn pretty that I get their attention, then I'll snub and ignore them completely,” Chloé elaborated with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I will not say a word to them. And if I happen to make a rude gesture? Well, that was clearly just a slip-up.”

She didn't know what to say.

“I can't actually do anything to them,” Chloé grumbled, sinking back in her seat. “I'm—I'm just a commoner and they're... more.”

It was one of the first times she'd ever heard Chloé sound so defeated.

“It's enough that I'm standing here when they never fought for my mother in the first place,” Chloé whispered.

“You can,” she blurted. “You can do something, I mean.”

Chloé frowned. “No, I can't.”

“You can teleport,” Marinette reminded her, emphasising the word with a wave of her hand. “Go and sabotage their carriage and get away! Spill a drink on them! Hell, you can even hit them and disappear before they can even blame you. It's foolproof.”

Chloé was wide-eyed. “You... want me to use my powers?”

“You've been using them the whole time!” she exclaimed.

“Barely!” Chloé retorted, getting worked up. “I can't even do anything but teleport!”

“You don't need to!” she countered, breathing a bit faster. “Seriously, the amount of havoc you could spread with this single ability? Chloé, there's a reason any mage not bound to a tower is classed as a criminal.”

Slowly, a smile spread on Chloé's lips. “Well, if I'm already a criminal...”

She beamed. “That's the spirit!”

“But you're staying with me,” Chloé decided, getting up to sit beside her to prove her point. “You need to remind me of our evil plan and help me keep my cool.”

She gave her a thumbs up.

Chloé laughed in delight.

Honeyfell's palace was a castle.

It was beautiful. There was ivy growing up the walls, hedges were trimmed perfectly, and all the flower beds were pristine and full of an arrangement of different colours.

Chloé pointed out, “The colours of their flag.”

She made a noise of understanding.

Guests were being escorted from their carriages to the front door. Marinette cautiously took the hand of the attendant that Adrien had assigned her to help get down from the step before she had her arms back down to her side.

Chloé had other plans, however. She linked their arms together, tugging her forward with confidence.

Marinette gulped.

The issue of getting inside was resolved by the attendant stepping forward and talking to the guard. They were allowed past without any problems.

For once, her name wasn't being announced with everyone turning to look at her.

Guests were too busy mingling to turn and look at either of them.

Chloé directed them to the drinks table first.

Marinette downed the first before she held the second for looks only.

For all the women there, no one was wearing a dress like hers. Chloé's was more in style, yet no one had the exact dress in a different shade.

Adrien must've paid a lot to commission such unique garments.

Chloé gently bumped their shoulders together. “See your loverboy yet?”

“I don't see him,” she whispered.

“There's time,” Chloé said. “Maybe he'll be fashionably late.”

“Not unless he wants to insult the royal family,” she mused.

“Oh, I'd approve of him even more if he did that,” Chloé remarked. And when Chloé noticed her surprised look, she said, “What? The guy is loaded.”

Marinette spluttered, “That's not—”

Chloé shrugged. “He makes you happy.”

She was speechless.

“Whatever, now isn't the time to get mushy,” Chloé decided, looking around with a stern expression. “I need to pick out my victims for tonight.”

“Right, yes,” Marinette agreed, straightening up. “Am I... supposed to know who we're looking for?”

“Blonde hair.”

“That's, like, a good chunk of the people here,” she muttered. “Everyone looks like you.”

“Well, everyone looks like you back home,” Chloé replied haughtily. “It's about time you're out of your depth.”

Marinette took a step closer so their arms were touching. “If I lose you, I'll never find you again.”

Chloé beamed. “I'll blip away and leave you forever.”

She swallowed. “You're not serious, right? I can't—”

“I'll take you with me.” Chloé laughed. “No need to look so panicked, Mari. You're my partner in crime tonight.”

“Only tonight?” she queried.

“Until your sweetheart turns up and steals you away,” Chloé said, giving her a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Marinette didn't have to think twice about her answer.

“Hey,” she whispered, nudging Chloé's hand down by their side before gently entangling their fingers. “I'm here with you, not him.”

Chloé scoffed. “For now.”

It was then that she had to think about what she valued more; a prophetised true love that she'd never see again because of her position, or her first real friend that had whisked her away to another country without thinking twice about it.

The decision was easy.

Marinette finished her drink in one. “Let's scout out these scumbags.”

Chloé tried to hide her smile.

There were so many people.

The guests were all dressed extravagantly while eyeing each other with distaste, the small talk was passive aggressive, and Marinette could barely tell anyone apart.

Even the servants were dressed well.

Then again, this was an anticipated event at the palace with a lot of guests. It had to be perfect.

Thankfully, Chloé took charge of the conversation when anyone approached them. Marinette went to bow her head in greeting a few times, only for Chloé to pinch her arm to stop her.

They didn't disclose where they were from.

All the conversations ended quickly and pleasantly, surprisingly. None of the other ladies their age had approached them yet, so they were free to flit around and take in their surroundings.

Marinette's feet were starting to hurt from the shoes.

Chloé muttered under her breath, “Is this even worth it? You can't even see them since we're wearing full-length gowns.”

“What if I show my scandalous ankle?” she questioned.

Chloé ignored her.

It was tiring meeting people.

Although her polite smile was a practised one, it was starting to feel like a grimace.

Marinette complained, “I'm hungry.”

“We didn't have time to eat lunch,” Chloé grumbled in agreement. “And I don't even know if they'll serve us food here? This isn't one of those... days long things.”

“I think it's a single night?” she mused. “From what I gathered, I mean. Otherwise Adrien would've gotten us fitted for more than... one dress, right? It would be a faux pas to wear the same thing all week.”

Chloé scoffed. “Rich people are insufferable.”

Marinette tried not to laugh. “You always tell me you're rich.”

“I'm not like other rich people,” Chloé proclaimed, haughtily lifting her chin up. “I don't have a stupid title, for one.”

She snickered.

Chloé fluttered her eyes. “I'm better than everyone.”

“Yes, you are,” Marinette agreed, patting her friend's shoulder. “You're great.”

Chloé brushed her hand away. “I'm going to ignore your sarcasm, just this once.”

“Only this once?” she questioned. “I think I've earned a few more passes than that—”

To her surprise, Chloé elbowed her in the side.

Marinette burst out laughing loudly.

It earned them a few looks, the guest closest to them stepping away, and Chloé scolded her for her decorum.

The moment was wonderful. At home, balls were suffocating from all the expectations and the stiff interactions she had.

And now, there was a friend by her side that was hissing that she needed to stand up straight and appear lovely so they could get away without drawing too much attention to themselves. The plan wasn't to impress her parents' friends and those in charge; rather, it was to find Chloé's family and inflict some sort of revenge on them.

It was childish and amazing at the same time.

“There,” Chloé said, leaning in close to whisper. “You see that older couple by the stairs? The woman in the green dress.”

She squinted. “There's a lot of green—”

“With the gloves on, you nitwit,” Chloé retorted.

Marinette made a noise of understanding. “Yes, I see her. The man beside her with the—”

“With the goatee? Yes, that's them.”

It was hard to tell from a distance.

She squinted. “I don't see the resemblance.”

“Mother always said she looks like her mother,” Chloé remarked, sounding angry. “Does she really think that colour is flattering for her skin? She looks dreadful.”

Marinette didn't voice her opinion.

The couple were wealthy from how well-dressed they were. The number of jewels was not gaudy, their hairstyles were flawless, and it was clear they were important from how guests came over to talk to them immediately.

“I'll set their carriage alight,” Chloé declared.

She questioned, “How? You can't conjure fire.”

Chloé spluttered, “I can try—”

“They look important,” Marinette interrupted, leaning in close to whisper in Chloé's ear. “What if we find out where they live? We can do some damage and disappear before we're caught.”

Chloé looked at her in shock.

“What?” she asked. “That'll hurt them more, right?”

Chloé swallowed. “You'd... do that?”

That was the question, wasn't it?

Months ago, the thought would've just been a passing fantasy. Marinette would only be so vengeful for her parents because they were closest to her.

Chloé didn't even know who she was; to her, Marinette was a common girl that wanted to see the world while she was young.

Her status didn't matter.

“Of course,” she answered, smiling widely. “What else are friends for?”

Chloé stared.

“Crime is high on the list,” Marinette continued, gesturing between them. “You smuggle me across the world, I set fire to your enemies—well, their things. Yes.”

Chloé let out a laugh. “You're so weird.”

She beamed. “I'll take that as a compliment.”

It was easy to find out their identity.

Marinette couldn't hide her surprise when the status of Chloé's grandparents was revealed.

She whispered, “I know you said they're noble but this—”

Chloé gave her a pointed look. “Are you backing out now?”

“No,” she replied, fiddling with her dress. “I'm—”

“Let's talk somewhere else,” Chloé suggested, tugging Marinette's arm to pull her towards an open door leading to a balcony.

Hopefully, they wouldn't be seen as disrespectful for being out of sight. The royal family hadn't turned up yet to greet the guests, so only them walking back in later at an unfortunate time would draw unwanted attention.

Although there were a lot of men with blond hair, none of them was Adrien.

“Okay,” she agreed, taking one more look around the room. “Let's go.”

The view of the palace gardens was wonderful even from up above. With the setting sun colouring the sky beautifully, the flowers stood out. There was a lot of care and detail put into it.

It reminded her of the flower garden she'd met Adrien at the first time.

While he'd shown his riches with all the dresses he'd bought for her, it didn't compare to the grandeur of the ballroom.

Her parents let her stay out of this willingly. They didn't mind that she wasn't fulfilling the duties that others of her status did; all they wanted was for her happiness.

Even then, she couldn't just abandon them to run off with Adrien into the sunset.

This was a holiday with Chloé before she was grounded for life for her poor decisions.

And with that in mind, she was determined to go out with a bang.

What was a little bit of arson?

“Chloé,” Marinette started with determination, looking into her eyes. “How much can you use your powers?”

“A few,” Chloé vaguely replied.

“Is it enough to go to their estate before coming back here to pick up the carriage?” she questioned. “It'll be suspicious if we take it away now.”

Chloé's smile grew wide. “Oh, that'll be fine.”

“Great,” Marinette said, straightening up. “Let's go to the ladies, shall we? I'll stumble a bit so you'll look like an angel helping me.”

“I can trip you over,” Chloé replied.

“Please don't.”

“Oh, I'm doing it,” Chloé proclaimed, sounding the happiest she'd been all night. “Pretend to be horribly sick, will you? That sounds like a great plan to me.”

She spluttered, “What? No—”

Chloé wasn't listening. “Better yet, I can whack you in the face so you get a nosebleed.”

“You can't hurt my face!” she exclaimed. “I need that.”

“Oh, that's right,” Chloé agreed with a laugh. “How else are you going to find another sweetheart? Your personality sucks.”

“Mine? Look in the mirror!” Marinette retorted.

Chloé kept laughing.

She stomped on Chloé's foot.

The laughter turned into a shriek of pain, then it was Marinette's turn to snicker.

It was juvenile behaviour, the very kind she'd been warned against at such functions since she could walk, yet it was fun. Chloé was a greatly needed breath of fresh air.

If her parents had hired mages, the record of her being on a ship to Heartpond would've led to a completely different city. And if they'd made it as far as the capital, she hadn't heard whispers of it yet.

Her parents wouldn't slap wanted posters everywhere for her, hopefully.

Marinette kept her head high as they crossed the ballroom.

Adrien wasn't there.

With the duke and duchess at the royal ball, breaking into their home was easy.

It wasn't a one-way trip, though; Chloé had to go in bursts, holding Marinette's hand tightly the whole time to stay together.

Thankfully, they made it.

Marinette took in the sight of the mansion. “Your mother really did marry down.”

“Exactly,” Chloé agreed. “Marrying beneath her is low enough, but an abusive scumbag at that? No wonder he got murdered.”

The blasé tone was what had Marinette laughing.

“Shut up,” Chloé hissed, elbowing her with a bit of strength.

She hissed in pain. “Sorry.”

Their plan wasn't a good one.

In the end, they took their shoes off to carry them—hoping to cover the noise of their footsteps—and looked around to see whether any fireplaces were on. And when one was, Marinette grabbed anything flammable from the room, setting it alight and tossing it around to spread the fire.

They managed to do it in three rooms.

Chloé tossed a burning chair out of a window.

Marinette watched it fall with wide eyes.

Wiping her hands, Chloé asked, “Should I throw another?”

She beamed. “Can I?”

It was harder than it looked.

Marinette panicked when her sleeve caught fire. She flailed to try and put it out, only for Chloé to hit her with a pillow and press it into her.

“Are you hurt?” Chloé demanded.

“No, I'm fine,” she said.

Chloé pushed up Marinette's sleeve to inspect the damage. Her skin was untouched and the fabric was only singed a little.

“I liked this,” she whispered, upset.

“Whatever, he'll buy you another,” Chloé said, going back to their destruction. “I want to burn their whole fucking garden down. Grab some shit so I can teleport down there.”

Her sadness was forgotten and replaced with glee instantly.

“Can do, boss,” Marinette replied, doing as she was told.

Their smiles were wide.

“Oh, I feel so sick,” Marinette lied, leaning on Chloé's shoulder for support. “I might vomit in the carriage.”

“There, there,” Chloé said, trying not to laugh. “You look like you're going to faint, poor thing.”

“Poor thing?” she whispered incredulously. “At least pretend you're not my mother.”

“I'd smack you if you were my daughter.”

Marinette gasped. “That's abuse.”

The ball was still going on.

They'd returned to the restroom, paranoid that they smelled of smoke. Before they'd left, Chloé had stolen a bottle of perfume and sprayed it, then used the liquid to spread the fire outside.

Chloé didn't do a good job of hiding her glee when her grandparents came into view. They were still elegant and mingling politely.

“I burnt all her dresses,” Chloé said, sounding positively giddy. “I hope it hurts her more than losing her daughter.”

“Maybe the flowers will do that part,” Marinette mused. “It's all about appearances, right?”

Chloé shrugged.

Marinette straightened up as they reached the door. No one had approached them, thankfully.

The king and queen were blond.

It was hard to see them across the room, though. A few couples were dancing to the music, which was elegant as their movements, and Marinette couldn't help but feel sad.

She didn't see Adrien.

“Mari?” Chloé questioned.

“I should go to bed,” she said.

News broke out about the fire quickly. The next day, newspapers were filled with limited information; it was deduced that it wasn't a simple accident because of how the fire had spread.

No one had reported seeing two women dressed in ball gowns causing the havoc, though. The servants hadn't caught sight of them.

Chloé was giddy.

“You look too happy,” she said, snatching the newspaper from her hands. “It's a terrible thing that happened, you know. We should be frightened for them.”

Along with the fire, there was a lot of coverage from the ball. Sketches of the royal family were included, along with outfits that had stood out.

It was a lot in a single night.

Chloé took the newspaper back before she could read it. “I'm taking this home.”

“Try and preserve it, then,” she suggested. “It's a treasure you'll pass down. Wrinkles will make it look tacky.”

Chloé held it to her chest preciously. “This is the best.”

And it was, wasn't it?

It was a petty kind of crime that they'd get away with. Before anyone could connect them to it—if ever—they'd be back home to never return.

Marinette sighed. “It's about time we leave, huh?”

“I've got a peace offering for my mother now,” Chloé said, gesturing to the newspaper. “How are you going to placate your parents?”

She let out a nervous laugh. “Beg for forgiveness?”

Chloé gave her a pitying look. “I'm never seeing you again.”

“Not for a while, no,” she agreed, shoulders sagging. “Can I see Adrien once more before we go? I promised I would tell him.”

Chloé winked. “Maybe he'll give you spending money for the journey.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “I don't think so.”

“Or he'll buy you an entire wardrobe for the trip—”

“I'm breaking his heart, why would he buy me stuff?” she questioned.

Chloé frowned. “No need to get so serious, I'm just joking.”

She stayed quiet.

Chloé agreed that it would be good for them to return within the week. Marinette couldn't argue with that logic, so she set about looking for Adrien with their remaining time.

Since they'd arranged to meet at the ball, there wasn't a backup plan between them. Marinette had broken her promise and ditched it in favour of being with Chloé.

Adrien was never going to find out about Chloé's quest for revenge, so he had to be mad about being second best.

Chloé pointed out, “Go to where you met up with him before.”

The café that Adrien's friend owned was her first stop.

Unfortunately, he wasn't there that day. The friend did say that she'd get him to come the following afternoon, so Marinette had to be there by noon.

Marinette was so thankful that she bought an entire row of cakes.

It was a handful to walk out with and definitely too much for her and Chloé to eat, so she gave them out to locals that had been friendly and accommodating to them the entire time.

A few cooed at her and pinched her cheek, telling her she was cute.

It was nice.

The next day, Chloé did her hair for her.

Marinette was nervous when she approached the café. The door was locked and a shutter was pulled down to obscure the glass. Either Adrien's friend closed it to give them some privacy or it had been cancelled.

She knocked and politely waited.

Within seconds, it opened up.

“Adrien?” she questioned in surprise.

His mouth parted but no words escaped. Instead, he looked at her with wide eyes, not stepping aside to let her in.

He was dressed nicely, though. It wasn't the toned-down look that he had the last few times they saw each other.

“Shouldn't you let me in?” she asked, gesturing behind her. “People are gonna see you soon.”

“Oh,” he whispered, stepping back to do just that. “Yes.”

He didn't sound happy.

Marinette felt incredibly guilty. He'd spent so much money on her—

“I'm sorry,” he said, his back against the door as it was shut again. “I didn't—I didn't think this through.”

The click of the lock didn't make her uncomfortable.

She blinked. “You're sorry?”

His gaze was on his shoes. “Yes.”

Did he think it was too much for her?

Like Chloé, she was a common girl in his eyes. Neither of them had questioned her identity despite her ignorance of certain topics.

“I'm the one that should be apologising,” she started, clasping her hands in front of her. “I shouldn't have—you did all that for me and I ended up leaving. I'm sorry.”

His head snapped up. “Leaving?”

She frowned. “Isn't that what you're upset about?”

“Aren't you upset?” Adrien asked.

“Huh?”

His expression mirrored hers.

“Why would I be upset?” Marinette questioned, confusion clear in her tone. “We agreed to meet at the ball and I left. Isn't that—that's all we're talking about, isn't it?”

“You left,” he repeated, wide-eyed once more. “Why?”

“It wasn't my kind of place,” she said.

Adrien took a step forward, gently placing his hand on her cheek. “Did someone upset you?”

That was a leap to make. “Pardon?”

“I'm so sorry, I didn't think about that,” he whispered, sounding agonised. “I should've been there sooner—”

“No one upset me,” Marinette assured him, leaning into his touch with a smile. “Chloé and I felt as though we were intruding. It was a joint decision to run away.”

He didn't take his eyes away from hers. “Are you sure no one offended you?”

“Why?” she questioned, letting out a laugh. “Are you going to challenge them to a duel for my honour?”

“I can do worse than that,” he whispered.

“Charming,” she teased.

Adrien quietly asked, “You're really not mad at me?”

“I have no reason to be?” Marinette replied. “I'm the one that left you, Adrien. And I might've... ruined your dress. I definitely can't return it.”

His hand was still on her cheek, but it didn't feel awkward. Adrien's touch was as soft as his voice when he said, “It's a pity I didn't get to see you all dressed up.”

“It was odd,” she admitted. “All of these clothes are, to be honest. I'm not used to them at all.”

His expression was full of fondness. “Where are you from?”

“Far away,” she joked.

Adrien was close enough that she could feel his breath. If he leaned forward only a little, they'd be able to kiss—

Suddenly, he let his hand drop to his side as he asked, “Have you—did you see the newspaper today?”

Marinette stiffened up. “Uh, yes? I saw about the—the fire. Yes.”

“The fire?” he repeated, bewildered. “No, I don't mean that—”

Of course, he wasn't suspicious of her. Out of all the people that had done it, why would it be her? Marinette's reaction was odd because he was the first one to bring it up to her.

“Oh, then not really?” she replied, brushing some stray hairs behind her ear. “I didn't get to the other pages to see if anything juicy happened.”

Adrien whispered, “You didn't see it.”

It wasn't a question.

“What?” she asked.

Adrien's voice wobbled. “Do you know who I am?”

“Adrien of Honeyfell,” Marinette replied confidently.

His shoulders shook as he burst out into laughter.

She didn't know whether to be offended or not.

“You're amazing,” he whispered, rubbing his hand over his face. “I can't believe it. You manage to ruin all of my expectations and I love you even more for it.”

It was the mention of love that had her stiffening up.

They were prophesied lovers, after all. Their feelings had been foretold for years and Adrien had been waiting for her ever since then.

And it had to end before it really started.

“I'm leaving,” she blurted.

“I'm not laughing at you,” Adrien said, wiping his eyes with the palm of his hand. “I'm—”

“That's not it,” Marinette interrupted, fidgeting on the spot. “I'm... I have to go back home.”

“Oh.” The mirth in his expression disappeared in a moment. “That's...”

“I'm sorry,” she said, closing the distance between them to take his hands into hers, gripping them tightly. “I really enjoyed meeting you but—”

“It's okay,” Adrien murmured, giving her a watery smile. “You don't need to explain. I—we both knew this was coming, right?”

There was a lump in her throat.

When had she ever felt like this before?

This trip had given her things she never had before; a close friend that would commit crimes with her and a taste of romance that was meant to be.

“If we had more time, I think I could love you,” she confessed.

He wasn't upset by her statement.

Adrien's smile was bright. “I can say the same to you.”

It felt bittersweet.

He lifted her hands to kiss each of her knuckles.

“Stop,” she complained.

“I need to get it out of my system,” he said, smiling as he met her gaze and continued to kiss her hands. “It's a lifetime's worth, remember?”

“I'll never wash my hands,” she joked.

“That's what I want to hear,” Adrien replied, thoroughly amused. “If you let anyone else kiss you here, I'll make it my life's mission to hunt them down.”

“You won't be a busy man, then.”

He laughed. “Because you'll be saving yourself for me?”

Marinette flicked his nose. “You can't say that to me!”

“I'm kidding,” Adrien said, putting her hand on his cheek, mirroring how he'd been touching her earlier. His smile was breathtaking as he leaned into her touch. “I want you to live your life happily, no matter what that means.”

She swallowed. “You're taking this well.”

He turned his head to kiss her palm. “I'm mature.”

“Are you?” she questioned. “You don't look it.”

Adrien huffed. “I'm eighteen, you know.”

“You are?” Marinette exclaimed, surprised. “I am as well!”

They stared at each other.

Then, they burst out into laughter.

Marinette had her forehead against his chest as she shook with laughter, spurred on by him joining in. It was an endless cycle that had him wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

Adrien kissed the top of her head. “I can't believe we never mentioned this before.”

“We can now,” she answered. “Do you have any siblings?”

“A cousin, what about you?”

“None,” she said. “I only have my parents.”

“My cousin's going to succeed the... family business,” Adrien told her, sounding odd at the last part of that sentence. “We all live together because of it. My aunt's as fussy as my mother when it comes to me.”

Marinette glanced up at him. “Is that why you're dressed like you're going to buy an entire boutique for me again?”

He beamed. “Is that a problem?”

“Yes, it is!” she exclaimed. “What are you going to do with all those other dresses?”

“I'll wear them and think of you, of course,” he deadpanned.

Marinette laughed. “You're ridiculous.”

“For you, I can be anything,” Adrien proclaimed, looking at her softly again.

“You're really good at saying things like that,” she remarked.

He kissed her cheek. “Am I?”

Her face felt hot. “This is becoming a problem.”

“What is?” he questioned with a laugh.

“You've given me far too many kisses,” she proclaimed, glaring up at him. “The ratio isn't even at all.”

“Oh, no,” he said. “How will we ever fix that?”

“By me kissing you, of course,” Marinette replied.

Adrien beamed. “I see.”

“How about you don't?” she suggested, reaching up to poke his cheek. “I want you to close your eyes.”

“You're very demanding suddenly,” he replied, doing as she said and closing his eyes. It would be the closest that she'd ever be to seeing him asleep. “The suspense is making my hands sweaty.”

Marinette laughed. “Am I making you nervous?”

“I feel comfortable with you,” Adrien assured her.

“My heart's beating fast,” she told him. Then, she took his hand and gently placed it on her chest. “See?”

She could hear him swallow.

There was blond on the ends of his eyelashes. His skin was smooth, his hair was soft and shiny, and everything about his appearance was alluring.

She wanted to remember him.

For more than his looks; for being kind, calm, and accepting of her even when she'd panicked after falling into his arms in the middle of the garden.

Adrien had waited for her to appear.

She didn't want to leave.

“Can you lean down a bit?” she whispered.

“These demands are getting out of control,” Adrien scolded her in a teasing tone, yet still doing what she said. “Is this good?”

“Yes,” she said, touching the end of his nose with her own. “It is.”

He took in a sharp breath.

“Can I—”

“Yes,” he blurted.

Marinette had to laugh. “I didn't finish my sentence!”

His eyes were squeezed shut now. “I absolutely want you to kiss me. Please.”

“Well, if you're begging...”

Adrien proclaimed, “I'll happily get on my knees right now.”

“There's no need for that,” Marinette replied quietly. “I like you as you are.”

He swallowed again.

Her heart was beating fast. It was a different kind of excitement than when she'd been lighting a mansion on fire.

Adrien's lips were soft.

It was equally delightful and awkward.

Marinette didn't know what to do with her hands and he wasn't much better. With her hand on his arm, she leaned into him, tilting her head up to try and make the height difference between them easier.

Adrien kissed her back gently.

It was wonderful.

Then, when they gained a bit of confidence, there was too much teeth and the two of them burst out laughing again.

His face was red.

Hers probably matched.

“You're so cute,” Adrien gushed, sounding over the moon.

His lips were wet because of her.

She couldn't stop looking.

“Marinette?” he called softly.

She blinked. “Huh?”

He was looking at her as though she was precious. “Can I kiss you again?”

And at that moment, she truly felt it.

She smiled. “Yes, please.”

There was a lot of kissing.

That wasn't all they did, though. They spoke about the little things; Marinette would leave with the knowledge of parts of his childhood, more of his likes and dislikes, even something as little as his favourite flower.

The owner of the café wasn't there, surprisingly. Marinette had been too wrapped up in him to even give the woman another thought.

She felt rude.

“It's our last chance together,” Adrien said, kissing her cheek.

“You didn't know that before I got here,” she grumbled.

“Maybe I thought that regardless,” he pointed out. “I was under the impression that you were mad at me, after all.”

She gently punched his arm. “I'm mad at you now.”

Since they were alone with no one to observe them, Marinette had dared to sit in his lap. It had been awkward before he'd wrapped his arms around her middle, smiling down at her.

He asked, “How can I make it up to you?”

Marinette requested, “Don't forget me.”

“I could never,” he replied without hesitation. “I'm almost offended that you have to ask that.”

“I'm simply making sure!” she defended.

“You'll be on my mind forever,” Adrien vowed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. He didn't look away from her eyes. “How can I ever forget someone so beautiful?”

Marinette pretended to be offended. “Is beauty all there is?”

“I'm not sure there's much going on up here,” he teased, ruffling her hair.

She gasped. “Hey!”

Adrien told her, “I want you to do something for me.”

“After calling me stupid?”

He brushed over that. “Take a closer look at that newspaper.”

Marinette was bewildered. “What?”

“You'll see,” he said.

“Oh, no,” she uttered, leaning back. “Did you commit a crime?”

Adrien spluttered, “I did not set that fire.”

She laughed. “There are other crimes! I've heard all about the black market!”

“Do you still think I'm suspicious?” he demanded, manhandling her when she tried to stand up, pulling her back into his lap. “Tell me, Marinette. Am I scary?”

“Oh, terribly so,” she responded, kissing the end of his nose. “I'm shaking in my boots.”

He pouted.

“Cute,” she cooed.

“You're rude,” he proclaimed.

“I'm trying to make a lasting impact,” she joked.

He muttered, “Degrade me more and it'll turn into a nightmare.”

She laughed loudly. “Are you saying I'll haunt you?”

“For the rest of my days, yes,” Adrien confirmed dramatically. “I'm ruined because of you, Marinette.”

She beamed. “That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me.”

“Well, let's keep it that way,” he replied, holding her closer so their chests were touching. And as he put his head against her shoulder to close his eyes, he whispered, “I'll miss you.”

Marinette ran her fingers through his hair. “And I, you.”

They stayed quiet.

She wanted to memorise even the sound of his breathing.

It was sunny on their last day.

Chloé fanned her face. “This is the worst.”

Marinette was too busy looking out into the crowd. The port was busier than when they'd left back home; families were hugging goodbye, there was a lot of chatter, and every tall man with blond hair had her doing a double-take.

Adrien wasn't there, of course.

He hadn't asked when she was leaving and she didn't say.

Instead, they had their goodbye and left with swollen lips, putting off leaving until it was far past midnight. Adrien had insisted on walking her back to her inn.

“Marinette?” Chloé called out.

She had to hold onto her hat to stop the breeze from taking it. “Yes?”

“We have to get on,” Chloé said, gesturing to the boat behind her.

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“At least you can vomit in your hat,” Chloé remarked. “Good job. I almost forgot about your seasickness.”

Marinette grimaced. “I wish I could forget about that...”

Chloé laughed.

From the boat, she watched Honeyfell fade into the distance.

It took less than an hour for her to throw up.

They'd kept their clothes this time, so Chloé didn't need to purchase them from another passenger. The boat was set to visit a few cities and countries on the way back to Everview, so there were a variety of guests onboard.

Those from Everview didn't recognise her, though. Her official portraits were from when she was young.

Chloé wasn't forcing herself to be polite to those from home; rather, it seemed that Chloé was more than happy to talk to them and discuss the things from their homeland.

It was with glee that Chloé returned to their chambers one evening with clothes close to their size. Their western clothes were packed away in favour of their new garments.

Marinette was pleased. “This feels better.”

Chloé happily told her, “They have more if we want them.”

She beamed.

This time, she wasn't full of nerves, worrying that they were going to be caught at any moment. It had been months since she'd run away from home.

She'd done worse things than that now.

Setting fire to a mansion and leaving her true love made fleeing in the middle of the night pale in comparison. All she had to worry about was whether she'd be caught straight off of the boat or if she'd have time to part ways with Chloé first.

Chloé, her friend who'd been there for her—

“Hey,” Marinette called out from where she was sitting down on the deck of the boat. “Can I ask you something?”

Chloé wasn't suffering like her; instead, she was happily taking in the sun while walking around, chatting and talking to anyone that walked past.

“What?” Chloé asked.

She fidgeted. “Were you worried about me when you—when you lost me that one time?”

Chloé bluntly said, “Oh, I thought I killed you.”

“What?”

Chloé brushed her hair over her shoulder. “Mother always told me horror stories to try and stop me from, uh—using it? I looked around before I gave up. I had no clue where you went whatsoever.”

She squinted. “You didn't seem concerned after.”

Chloé beamed. “I'm a good actress.”

“...What.”

“I can't let people see me weak, can I?” Chloé answered, tilting her head. “Appearance is everything.”

She had to laugh. “You're weird.”

“Coming from you?” Chloé scoffed. “What did you do, rob someone before you ran away with me? I've seen the amount of money in your pouch.”

She made a peace sign with her hand. “My parents gave it to me.”

Chloé hummed. “Okay, so they're the bandits.”

It made her laugh before she sobered up, saddened at the reminder of Adrien. He'd always seemed amused whenever she called him a criminal.

Chloé mistook the reason for her silence.

“Hey,” Chloé said, squatting down in front of her. “I promise I'll still be your friend when we get back.”

She blinked. “Pardon?”

“Unless your parents pay me a handsome sum, I'm sticking around,” Chloé assured her. “You're fun.”

Marinette didn't know how to respond to that. “Thank you?”

Chloé gave her a thumbs up.

In the end, she did tell Chloé.

“I'm a princess,” Marinette confessed one night. “The only princess of Faymeadow, to be exact.”

Chloé snorted. “Sure.”

“I am,” she insisted. “That's why—”

“Your father's a commoner from a small town back in Heartpond,” Chloé interrupted. “I remember your life story, Marinette. Go to sleep.”

It wasn't her fault that Chloé didn't believe her.

Everview's capital came into view.

Faymeadow looked the same as ever, yet it brought a tear to her eye. Marinette was clutching onto the edge of the boat as it drew closer.

“You have so many freckles now,” Chloé remarked.

Marinette laughed. “And you're even blonder!”

“I have a nice tan,” Chloé said.

“Yes, you look lovely,” she agreed, leaning in to rest her head on Chloé's shoulder. “I hope your mother doesn't kill you.”

Chloé snickered. “She won't if I show her the newspaper first.”

“That's wishful thinking,” she remarked. “I can't say that tactic would work on mine.”

“Well, you're always welcome to come to see the paper at my house,” Chloé offered. “I'm going to frame it on the wall. We need to remember this for years.”

“It'll be years before I see you,” she lamented.

Chloé patted the top of her head. “At least you look cute for your funeral.”

“Thank you so much,” Marinette grumbled.

When the boat docked, the nerves had fully set in. Marinette's hands were sweaty, her stomach was churning, and the luggage she was carrying wasn't helping to ground her.

Chloé insisted that they could get some money selling the clothes.

The dress Adrien had given her took up most of the space. It was a precious relic, though, even if it was a bit signed. There was no way that she was leaving it behind.

Chloé had packed her dress as well.

It had weighed them down greatly.

Chloé put her luggage down on the ground with a dramatic sigh. “This is hurting my back already.”

“We're not even in town yet,” she pointed out.

“I forgot how hot it is here,” Chloé complained, fanning her face. “I thought it couldn't get any worse than over there—”

“You have a bad memory,” she teased.

Chloé elbowed her lightly.

She laughed.

Then, that laughter died when she spotted a guard amongst the group at the peer. Although they were standing to the side, the uniform was clear.

Marinette didn't make eye contact.

It was pointless, though. This was someone that knew her face.

“I'll see you later, hopefully,” Marinette said, going to pick up her bags again.

Chloé surprised her by pulling her into a tight hug. “Don't die.”

She was speechless.

“Ew, you're sweaty,” Chloé said, jumping away. “That was awful. I'm not doing that again.”

Again, she didn't know what to say.

Chloé took that as a positive response. “See you, Mari.”

She relaxed, smiling softly. “Bye, Chloé.”

Chloé had a skip in her step as she ran as fast as she could, happy to be home.

Marinette watched her go with her stomach still twisting nervously.

With a deep breath, she took her luggage and approached the guard.

They bowed their heads.

“I'm ready to return,” she said.

Surprisingly, her parents weren't angry at her.

Depending on the conversation, they were either overly happy that she'd returned or sad that she'd thought she had to run away in the first place.

Marinette felt awful.

They hugged her a lot and kissed her head.

Although there wasn't a lot of scolding, the guards following her had increased. There was someone stationed outside of her bedroom throughout the night—which embarrassed her greatly—and her parents were overly worried when she was late for any meals.

They were terrified that she'd leave again.

“Who did you rope into going with you?” her father questioned.

Marinette shifted in her seat. “I befriended a girl from town.”

As before, their reactions were overly positive instead of angry.

Her mother's eyes widened. “You... made a friend?”

“Yes.”

“That's wonderful! Oh, you have to invite her over straight away,” her father said, clasping his hands together. “We can have her family here for dinner.”

“We could throw a banquet!”

“What? No,” Marinette spluttered, horrified at the idea. “She doesn't—she doesn't even know who I am.”

They weren't appalled.

Instead, their opinion of Chloé was raised. “That gives us even more reason to meet her.”

“No, it does not,” she denied, shaking her head. “I don't—I don't want her to know.”

She was met with a lot of pouting for that.

Marinette stayed true to her opinion.

Chloé didn't want a life entangled with someone of her status; her and her mother were happy in the town being somewhat wealthy commoners. There was no need to draw them into politics by openly having her by side.

As a compromise, Marinette promised not to sneak into town any more.

She agreed to take the youngest guard and have them pose as her cousin.

It felt like a trap at first.

Her parents were too accepting of the situation. Perhaps it was because they were overjoyed that she was back and wanted to keep her close by, saying yes to anything she proposed, yet when two weeks had passed, their opinions stayed the same.

Marinette did ask why no one had come looking for her.

“We did send some people out to scout for you, but not to do anything drastic,” her mother admitted. “I know that you don't like to make a scene. I admit, it sounded... appealing the longer we went without any news of you.”

They truly loved her.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

It earned her a lot of cheek kisses.

There was no need to skulk around.

Her parents fawned over her appearance—particularly her father who appreciated simple clothes—and they begged her to pose for a portrait in common clothes sometime so they could remember it forever.

They were very doting, overbearing, and she'd missed every second of it.

With the guard by her side—who'd dressed similarly to her, still with the sword on their hip—she set out to the town to visit Chloé for the first time.

She was nervous.

Then came the fact that she didn't know where Chloé lived. When they'd met up before, it was always outside.

She visited a street vendor first, purchasing food for both herself and the guard before wandering to the more residential area.

Chloé and her mother stood out as being not native to their land, so she decided to be smart and ask anyone she bumped into whether she was getting closer to the area.

She ended up at a home with a dried flower wreath pinned to the front of the door.

Marinette knocked and waited.

Chloé's face was grumpy before it blossomed into a smile at the sight of her. “Oh, you're alive!”

“Hello,” she greeted, feeling warm and happy. “It's been a while, huh?”

“Come in, come in,” Chloé said, tugging her forward before catching sight of the guard behind her. “Who is that?”

“Uh, my cousin,” she lied.

Chloé stared at her.

She didn't avert her eyes.

“Your cousin,” Chloé repeated dubiously.

“Yes,” Marinette insisted, glancing at the guard with a nervous smile. “Can you wait outside? I want to talk to her in private.”

They didn't argue with her.

“Weird,” Chloé muttered as the door closed behind them.

It was a nice home. There were homely touches all around, the dirt was kept to a minimum, and it didn't seem too cramped for the two people living there.

“Stop gawking,” Chloé snapped.

“Sorry,” she said, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I like your home.”

“I didn't ask for your opinion.”

It made her laugh.

“Where have you been?” Chloé demanded, putting her hands on her hips. “I thought you died!”

“I had to make it up to my parents,” she said, smoothing out her clothing. “I'm only allowed out now as long as my cousin's here to take care of me.”

Chloé squinted. “To protect your chastity?”

“Chloé!” she exclaimed.

Chloé was only spurred on by her reaction. “Or did you lose it to your loverboy?”

“I did not,” she spluttered, embarrassed. That happy warmth quickly turned into mortification as she felt her face burning. “I don't want to discuss this with you.”

“Shame, you could've been having more fun,” Chloé remarked.

“I don't want to hear this!” Marinette said.

Chloé raised her eyebrows. “And I didn't want you to judge my home, bitch.”

“That is not the same thing whatsoever,” she replied, gesturing between them. And to distract her, Marinette asked, “Is your mother here?”

“No, she's at work,” Chloé responded, sitting down at the table in the kitchen. The floor only had two pillows to sit on. “Unless you think you'll be here until evening, you won't get to meet her.”

“Oh.”

“She does want to meet you, by the way,” Chloé said, putting her elbows on the table and resting her jaw in her hands. “I told her everything.”

Marinette swallowed. “Everything?”

Chloé winked. “She liked your summer romance.”

She groaned. “You didn't have to say that!”

“Why not? I needed to explain how we managed to get that ball invitation in the first place,” Chloé pointed out. “And before you ask, no, I'm not grounded. It turns out arson cancels out all of my other crimes.”

“You're kidding,” she said.

Chloé pointed behind her.

Marinette turned around, trying to spot what she was gesturing to before she noticed the newspaper attached to the wall.

“No way,” she whispered.

“Oh, yes,” Chloé answered gleefully. “It's our most prized possession now.”

She exclaimed, “I thought you were kidding!”

Chloé haughtily replied, “I never joke.”

She had to laugh.

It was clear that Chloé was in a happy mood. She went as far as to make tea for the both of them, getting out teacups from the top shelf that were in almost pristine condition, and refilled Marinette's teacup without prompting each time.

Throughout it all, the guard stayed outside diligently. Marinette poked her head out a few times to see whether they were okay before returning to talk to Chloé.

She stayed long enough to meet Chloé's mother.

Genes were a scary thing.

If being with Chloé was a whirlwind, having the two of them together was overwhelming. Chloé and her mother spoke to each other rudely, but there were fondness and inside jokes there.

Marinette was thoroughly amused.

When she returned to the castle, it was with a wine bottle that Chloé's mother had thrust into her hands, insisting that she needed to give it to her parents.

Of course, her parents were touched by the gesture.

And so, a cycle of bringing gifts to Chloé's and returning with new ones began. Her parents were respecting her wishes of not inviting Chloé over and Chloé's mother was also under the impression that she was simply a rich commoner.

She didn't correct that.

Chloé not believing her one time was more than enough.

Chloé's mother mended her clothes when she tripped and got a hole.

It was a touching moment.

While it was being repaired, she was dressed in some of Chloé's older clothes that were closer to her height.

It was nice.

They were nice. When she'd first met Chloé, she'd never thought that this would happen.

Their trip had only brought them closer together.

And when she had a cough one time, Chloé's mother was quick to brew tea and prepare her something filling to eat, jumping up to her feet without Chloé having to say a word.

“Thank you,” Marinette whispered, touched.

While servants would surely give her the same treatment, she wasn't anyone special to these people. They wouldn't be paid for their kindness.

And didn't that make it even better? Chloé had smuggled her across the ocean and revealed her secret because she amused her. If she wanted, Marinette could have her arrested in a heartbeat.

“I'm not going to report you, you know,” Marinette said one day. They were outside in a meadow, picking some flowers to place in the kitchen to cheer up Chloé's mother. “You don't have to be so nice to me to keep my mouth shut.”

“Okay, fuck you, too,” Chloé retorted, getting a handful of grass and throwing it at Marinette's face. “Do you think that's what this is?”

“Well, no,” she said, wrinkling her nose from the grass. “But if I ever annoy you, you don't have to... put up with me? I'm not saying this right.”

“I'll kick you out of my life as soon as I dislike you, don't you worry,” Chloé claimed with confidence. “And if it comes to it, I'll just kill you.”

She laughed. “You'll kill me?”

“Or I'll hire someone to do it.”

Marinette gasped. “I'm so scared.”

Chloé sniffed. “You should be.”

She told her parents about Adrien.

Not the whole story, of course. She summed it up that she'd met a man her age and they'd spent some time together.

Of course, they were over the moon from her story, begging for more details. Her father pretended to fan himself when she said that Adrien had caught her in his arms when she'd fallen one time.

He didn't need to know it was from the sky, though.

Her mother pretended to cry. “You're so grown up.”

“Stop,” she complained from embarrassment.

“A heartbreaker like your mother,” her father sobbed.

It was met with a gasp. “I married you, didn't I?”

She was gifted with their love story for the umpteenth time. And as always, she was invested, listening to her parents bicker as they recounted their story.

Marinette wondered whether she'd be able to talk about Adrien like that one day.

It wasn't that she was regretting it.

Adrien wouldn't fit into her life and she didn't want to force him into it. The time with him had been lovely, their parting was bittersweet, and his dress was in her wardrobe if she ever wanted to look at it.

She could still picture him in her head, so that was good.

Even if she didn't have the chance to dance with him, or see him dressed more formally than he normally did, she did get the chance to kiss him a lot. It would've been better if they'd started that days before, but she'd been too shy to attempt that.

It was fine.

And when she saw the newspaper in Chloé's house—remembering that she'd chosen a crime over staying for Adrien—she wasn't swamped with guilt.

She'd make the same choice again. Chloé's happiness from that was unmatched.

And the fact that Chloé's mother had started to dote on her was surely because of that, too.

She wanted to reminisce a little.

Marinette gestured to the newspaper. “Can I look at it?”

Chloé narrowed her eyes. “Don't damage it.”

“I'll treat it preciously,” she vowed, putting a hand over her heart. “I won't even have a drink near it, I swear.”

“Then, go ahead,” Chloé replied.

She beamed.

There was a lot of coverage from the ball. Chloé hadn't removed the other pages to keep their crime as the only one, so she could flick through and take it all in for once.

She'd been too nervous the first time, too keyed up from seeing the fire immortalised in the paper, and Chloé had snatched it away too soon.

This time, she actually looked at the portraits of the royal family.

She almost choked.

“Marinette?” Chloé called out in concern.

Her breath was caught in her throat.

Adrien was there.

To be exact, an illustration of the royal family included a man that looked exactly like him. There was even a close-up afterwards, a head shot of each member, and it was undeniable that it was him.

A rich man who had access to prophecies from mages?

Of course it had crossed her mind that he was a noble of some sort, yet—

“If you throw up on that, I will kill you,” Chloé threatened, coming to stand beside her. “What's wrong?”

“This is Adrien,” she whispered.

It made sense.

He could afford all those dresses, why he skulked around and tried to hide his face when they were out on the streets, and why he'd assumed that she was mad at him after the ball.

After all, it would've been revealed when his arrival was announced.

Did he—

He had more courage than she ever did. Never for a moment did she think of revealing herself to him as it would only make it more complicated between them.

And now she knew that it would've done the opposite.

“I need to go home,” Marinette announced, placing the newspaper in Chloé's hands.

“What?” Chloé spluttered, caught off-guard. “What nonsense are you spouting?”

She tried to rush to the door.

Chloé blocked her off. “Tell me what's going on first!”

“I just said, that's Adrien!” she exclaimed, frustrated. “I will stomp on your foot, Chloé. Don't think I won't.”

“And?” Chloé challenged, staying firm. “You had a summer romance with a prince. What are you going to do about it?”

“I'm going to go see him,” she replied, as if it was obvious.

Chloé scoffed. “How are you going to do that?”

In the same tone, she stated, “I'm a princess.”

Chloé laughed.

Marinette huffed. “You'll believe me one day.”

“At least think it through before you make any rash decisions,” Chloé said slowly. “Spreading a rumour that you're pregnant with his child won't reach him.”

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered, pushing her aside. “I'll see you later, loser.”

“Make good choices!” Chloé called out.

She raised her middle finger.

“I'd like to visit Honeyfell,” Marinette announced.

Her mother's face was blank. “Where was that again?”

“Honey!” her father exclaimed, laughing. “That's the capital of my homeland. You know, where Marinette went when she abandoned us?”

“No wonder I tried to forget—”

“I want it to be an official visit,” Marinette interrupted, speaking loudly. “As in, I want to be introduced as Princess Marinette.”

Her parents looked at her in horror.

It was her father that said, “Sweetheart, you hate that—”

She held up a hand to stop him from talking. “I'm an adult now, I should—uh, do something.”

“An adult,” they repeated, trying to hold in their laughter.

Marinette squirmed.

They stared at her.

“Okay, fine,” she gave in, sighing. “It's about that man from before—”

They gasped.

With an entourage that took up the entire ship that had been filled with passengers before, Marinette felt hot and overwhelmed.

“What the fuck,” Chloé repeated.

“Shut up,” Marinette hissed, fanning her face. “I will throw up on you.”

“What the fuck.”

It was hard to deny her claim of being a princess when she was dressed up, had servants carrying her belongings, and had many guards that were coming along for the journey. Along with that, mages were employed to teleport them all—including the ship—to make the journey only last a few days.

As much as she'd argued that she would be fine taking it the normal way, her parents took pity on her seasickness. And when she'd become exhausted from all the preparations, such as new clothes in different materials that would be better for Heartpond's climate, her father had suggested that she invite Chloé along.

Chloé thought they were just going the two of them again.

She didn't correct her until they met up at the port.

There was a lot of attention from the townspeople despite the early morning hours. It was a rare sight to see the princess out and about, so she did her best to bow and greet everyone that was nearby.

She heard them whispering.

At first, her parents had sent an official letter to Heartpond's royal family, requesting for Marinette to stay there for a while and experience their culture.

Although they weren't close, their relationship wasn't negative. Her father was from there, of course, and her country had accepted Chloé's mother when she'd been banished for her crimes. Marinette wasn't up-to-date with all of the dealings, so there had to be more between them as well.

Within the week, the trip had been arranged.

When she really did throw up, Chloé cackled loudly.

Then, Chloé sobered up and whispered, “I think that guard wants to stab me.”

“You're being disrespectful,” she muttered.

“Excuse you, you said to treat you the same,” Chloé hissed back. “Maybe tell that to them so I don't have to be scared of death.”

“Yes, yes, I will protect your pitiful life,” Marinette vowed, trying not to laugh. “Did you have enough time to tell your mother about this?”

Chloé grinned. “No, I left a note.”

She was aghast. “You didn't.”

“I copied you,” Chloé said. “It'll be fine, surely. She'll forgive me if I bring back something fancy.”

Marinette sighed. “You can't top your last gift to her.”

Chloé wasn't disheartened. “I can try.”

This time, Marinette actually stepped off of the boat onto land.

There was a lot of attention on her.

A servant was holding a parasol up to shield her from the sun, another was holding her hand to help her step off, and a crowd was gathering in front from the sight of attendants waiting.

Rumours must've spread about her arrival.

And her appearance would only cause them to spread further; rather than blending in with western clothing, she was dressed like she would back at home for an official outing. The more comfortable clothes were packed away for later.

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably.

A carriage was waiting for her.

Chloé was oddly quiet as they were escorted inside.

It was only the two of them, thankfully.

“I'm going to be sick,” Chloé announced.

Marinette gave her a look. “This is what does it for you?”

“I'm not cut out for this,” Chloé snapped back, going to brush her hair away from her face before thinking better about it. The hairstyle had been carefully corrected by an attendant before they'd left the boat. “Why am I even here, Marinette?”

She fidgeted. “You're my friend.”

“And?” Chloé demanded. “You know I don't blend in here—”

“And neither do I,” she pointed out, fiddling with her sleeve. “You know that I'm not really... seen at official events, right?”

Chloé shrugged.

“You're my support,” Marinette said with a shy smile. “You don't have to come to all the stuffy dinners. If you want, I can get you a room in town and we can meet up—”

“While you're a princess or in disguise?” Chloé questioned.

“I haven't worked that part out,” she admitted.

Chloé snorted. “Do you have anything worked out?”

“No,” she confessed, letting out a laugh. “I haven't thought anything through. I doubt Adrien's connected the dots yet and it's been...”

Chloé cut in, “If he doesn't want you, we can trash his room.”

She huffed. “Must we do that?”

“Okay, I'll punch him and get away,” Chloé corrected.

“There are other mages here, you know,” Marinette said. “They're staying for the banquet this evening before going back home. You should keep a low profile.”

Chloé was unimpressed. “Well, no chance of that now that I've been seen with a princess.”

She winked. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“I don't feel safe with you,” Chloé said.

She laughed.

It was a whole event.

When she stepped out of the carriage, the greeting was extravagant. Marinette was horrified by all of the people leading up to the front steps.

Chloé wasn't by her side. Instead, Marinette was ushered to the front despite her protests. Her nervous stomach was worse with each passing minute, and then the king and queen approached, hoping that she had a safe journey.

They both did the greeting from her homeland.

Marinette was touched.

It was only the two of them, though. The princes were nowhere to be seen.

With a reminder that the welcoming banquet would be in a few hours, she was escorted to her chambers in the castle.

Everything was as elegant as the ballroom.

Marinette fell face-first into the bed.

She hadn't missed being dressed up for an event. It was different from the everyday wake-up call. And the fact that she'd see Adrien soon made it so much worse as time seemed to drag on.

When there was a knock at the door, she hugged Chloé on sight from relief.

“I missed you,” she sobbed.

“Okay, princess,” Chloé said, patting her head. “You look like you're playing dress-up. What are you wearing on your head?”

She admitted, “Adrien gave it to me.”

“You do have to prove your identity for your rich lover boy,” Chloé teased, putting her hands on Marinette's shoulders. “Are you ready for this? I've heard so much gossip about how you're horrible at socialising.”

She blinked. “Pardon?”

Chloé's smile was all teeth. “People like to talk.”

“You don't.”

“I do when it's embarrassing things about you,” Chloé remarked.

She scowled. “You're awful.”

“I'm good at what I do,” Chloé said. “Now, am I getting a front-row seat to your embarrassment or do you want me to sit this banquet out?”

That caught her by surprise. “You're asking me?”

“You're the one that dragged me along,” Chloé replied, giving her a disgusted look. “Haven't you figured out what to do with me yet?”

“I haven't thought anything through, thank you.”

“Yes, I can tell,” Chloé muttered. Then, as she straightened up and brushed her hair over her shoulder, she said, “No one else is coming for the banquet, so we don't need to worry about seeing my... relatives.”

“I know how it works—”

“Do you want me there or not?” Chloé demanded. “I'll probably have to sit with the servants.”

Marinette retorted, “No, you'll sit with me.”

Chloé wasn't convinced. “Do you even have the power to make that happen?”

“You're my guest, not my attendant,” she pointed out. “I have every right to request it.”

“And if they ask who I am?” Chloé questioned.

“You're Chloé of Faymeadow, of course,” she replied without missing a beat. “How else would I answer?”

Chloé smiled widely. “Good.”

“You can call me Emilie, dear,” the queen said, smiling widely.

They were seated at a table together.

There were a few spread out for everyone she'd come with to sit down. Servants were coming out and passing out drinks, though there wasn't any food served yet.

As Chloé said, no outsiders were welcomed. It was only those that stayed within the palace present.

She doubted she could look Chloé's grandparents in the eyes without making a funny expression.

The king and queen were very kind.

As the queen had, the king introduced himself as Gabriel, encouraging her to address him as such to have a good relationship between them.

It was left unsaid that that courtesy wasn't extended to Chloé as well.

Unfortunately, Chloé had clammed up and couldn't do anything more than greet the couple before sitting down awkwardly, keeping her mouth shut. Marinette tried to nudge her with her knee to encourage some sort of conversation, yet it wasn't successful.

Adrien's parents were quick to create small talk.

“My son is running late, along with my nephew,” Gabriel explained with a sigh. “I apologise for their tardiness.”

“It was hard to get Adrien to come along,” Emilie admitted, putting a hand on her husband's arm. “Not because of you, dear. He's been moping lately.”

It was the first mention of him since she'd arrived.

Chloé nudged her under the table.

She straightened up. “Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.”

From looking at them, she could pick out Adrien's features. These were people that had been waiting for her as well—without realising it—and the queen had carefully picked out all of those dresses in the boutique before.

She wondered where they were now.

“We apologise in advance if he's rude at all,” Gabriel said.

Marinette smiled. “It's quite all right.”

“And Félix...” Emilie paused to make a thoughtful noise. “He's a nice boy as long as you don't get the two of them confused. Don't you worry, I'll be sure to help you out.”

Truthfully, she'd barely glanced at the other prince's picture. She'd been too focused on Adrien to even remember what he looked like.

Then, she remembered Adrien saying something about his cousin.

“Is Félix your successor?” she blurted.

“Yes, he is,” Emilie confirmed with a smile. “Has gossip reached you already? You've only been here a few hours.”

She didn't need to answer that.

Seeing Adrien after time apart made her eyes feel dry.

He glumly walked in through the doors before putting on a polite smile, greeting those he walked past to get to the dining table on the other side.

Marinette swallowed.

“Oh, there is he,” Gabriel said, sounding exasperated. “The one on the left is Adrien, our son—”

“Isn't he wonderful?” Emilie gushed. “He's wearing the outfit I picked out as well! Normally he'd detest that—”

Adrien hadn't noticed her yet.

He stopped at a nearby table to talk to an older woman that looked similar to Emilie, and even kissed her cheek in greeting.

Then, his cousin did the same.

“My sister,” Emilie happily told her.

Félix was blocking her view, that was all she had to say about him.

“Does she not want to be up here?” Marinette questioned curiously. “You allowed for my guest to be here—”

“Amelie would rather not attend than sit up here,” Gabriel muttered, only just loud enough for her to hear. “Do not be offended by her either.”

“I'm not,” she assured him.

Chloé was nudging her underneath the table again.

Marinette couldn't take her eyes off of Adrien.

The last time they'd seen each other, they'd been making out in his friend's store. He'd held her close, told her all about his life, and promised to remember her forever.

Marinette really hoped this went well.

She was dressed as a princess, fancier than he had ever seen her, and the minimal make-up wouldn't make her unrecognisable. It would only be the clothes that would throw him off.

“Adrien!” Emilie beckoned him over. “Félix, you as well!”

Adrien kissed his aunt's cheek once more before turning towards them, his smile becoming more genuine before he made eye contact with her.

The shock was clear on his face.

She wasn't sure what her expression was.

Then, all decorum was gone as he ran to close the distance, bumping into the table as he stopped in front of her, jostling everything that was on the table. Thankfully, nothing spilt over.

He was wide-eyed and although his lips parted, no words came out.

His parents were horrified. “Adrien, my goodness—”

“Hi,” she whispered, smiling widely.

His voice cracked. “Marinette?”

“Adrien,” she replied, saying his name with as much affection as she could.

Chloé stood on her foot.

They were causing a scene, of course. The majority of the guests were looking at them in curiosity; seeing a prince dash toward a foreign princess wasn't a normal occurrence at all, especially not at a welcoming banquet.

“Sit down,” Gabriel demanded.

Adrien didn't take his eyes away from her.

Félix came up behind him, touching his shoulder in concern. “What's wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing is wrong,” Adrien declared, smiling widely.

Gabriel muttered something intelligible.

And when Adrien didn't respond because he was too busy looking at her, Marinette burst out laughing at the situation.

The concern was aimed at her then.

Chloé kicked her again.

“Adrien, darling,” Emilie said, sounding terribly confused. “Why don't you take a seat? You're making a terrible first impression.”

Marinette quipped, “It was worse when I fell into his arms.”

There was a gasp beside her and it wasn't from Chloé's side.

His dimples showed on his cheeks. “I thought I was quite charming when we first met—”

“Adrien, you were terrible,” she teased.

“Hm, I don't remember that part,” he replied. “I think we—”

“Adrien,” his father said sternly.

He finally glanced at his parents sheepishly. “Oh.”

Marinette could feel the queen staring at her.

She only had eyes for Adrien, though. The sight of him was a welcome one that she didn't want to forget any time soon.

Félix took Adrien's arm and dragged him to sit down. Unfortunately, it meant they were separated with the king and queen between them.

Adrien leaned forward to show her a smile.

“Adrien,” Emilie scolded.

He sat up straight again.

Marinette tried not to laugh.

Chloé elbowed her side.

She finally looked her way. “Rude.”

Instead of talking, Chloé gestured wildly between Marinette and the family behind her, attempting to convey a message without attracting too much attention.

Marinette squinted. “What?”

Chloé leaned forward to hiss, “Tell them.”

She made a noise of understanding.

Perhaps they were being polite and not addressing what they'd alluded to. Although Adrien wasn't making a scene any more, it was natural that a lot of the attention was on their table. The attendants that had come with her had to be curious.

Marinette took a sip of her drink to stall and gather some courage.

Then, she turned her attention to the side to see Félix scolding Adrien in hushed tones, too quiet for her to make out the words. Adrien was busy laughing and smiling, clearly still in a good mood from their brief interaction.

She got straight to the point. “I requested this visit because I'm the one from Adrien's prophecy.”

Beside her, Chloé made a choked noise.

Their surprised reactions were understandable.

“Adrien,” Emilie said slowly. “You never—you did not say that your partner was a princess.”

Adrien sounded overjoyed. “I didn't know.”

“And I didn't know of his status either,” Marinette helpfully informed them. Again, Chloé made a disapproving noise beside her. “Imagine my surprise when I found out after I'd returned home.”

Gabriel closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing out audibly.

It was the stance of an exasperated parent.

“Son,” Gabriel started. “You said you—”

“I was going to tell her!” Adrien blurted, jumping to his defence. “At the ball, I was—”

“Oh, I left that,” Marinette hurriedly explained for him, trying to save him from any embarrassment. “I was... in disguise at the time? It was too strange to be present when it wasn't... official?”

Gabriel's tone was more defeated. “You came to our country in disguise?”

“...Uh.”

“She wanted to experience what her father's life was like!” Chloé blurted out.

And when all eyes turned to her, Chloé hastily took her glass of wine and finished it, looking away.

“Yes,” Marinette latched onto that, putting her body in front of Chloé's. It didn't do much when Chloé was taller even when they were sitting. “I apologise. I was only—”

“Stop harassing her,” Adrien complained, not really sounding upset. “Aren't you happy that you actually get to meet her now? Don't scare her off.”

Félix sighed loudly. “Must you be so dramatic?”

“Dramatic?” Adrien echoed. “How dare you—”

“Sweetheart, this is a lot to take in,” Emilie said, gently putting her hand on Adrien's arm. “We're concerned for her safety, that's all.”

Marinette wasn't sure what her expression was when Gabriel turned towards her.

“Did you bring any guards with you?” Gabriel demanded. And before she could respond, he clarified, “For your trip last time.”

She pursed her lip.

Adrien exclaimed, “She had a mage!”

Chloé swore under her breath.

She couldn't be mad at him. Adrien was only trying to help her.

“No, that's—” Marinette rushed to say, stuttering out her words. “I had someone. Yes. They aren't here this time.”

No one called her out on her life. It sounded extremely forced to her ears.

The atmosphere relaxed after that, thankfully.

Despite not being sat together, Adrien kept leaning forward to talk to her, only to be scolded by his parents or Félix. They suggested that they wait to have the conversation in private later—reminding them of the watching eyes—and Marinette was more than happy when the food was served.

Adrien kept asking if she'd tried specific foods yet.

Chloé sighed beside her.

It was nice.

Gabriel and Emilie were just as welcoming as before with the sudden reveal. They asked questions that didn't revolve around her love life, showing their interest in her home, and even Félix addressed her.

Chloé kept her mouth shut unless she was spoken to.

Marinette didn't drink too much. As nice as they were, this wasn't a comfortable situation where she could behave like that. Chloé had her back, surely, but she had no sway over here other than being a guest.

When it came time to part, Adrien readily volunteered, “I'll walk her back.”

“No, you will not,” Gabriel denied, giving his son a stern look.

He pouted.

“Marinette's too polite to say she's exhausted and can't talk with you right now,” Félix pitched in, adjusting the cuff of his shirt. “You can badger her tomorrow.”

They were all talking for her.

“Actually, I—” Marinette started to say, only to be interrupted when her attendants had arrived to escort her.

With a sigh, they parted ways.

Adrien glumly waved at her.

She waved back.

Chloé wasn't in her room.

Marinette had been washed and dressed in her pyjamas, yet she couldn't find sleep. She was on her back on the mattress, staring up at the top of the canopy bed.

It was very extravagant. The fabric hanging off of it was soft to the touch.

There came a knock at the door.

The guard outside gave her a blank look.

She bowed her head at him and went back inside, a bit embarrassed.

Then, the sound came again.

It wasn't from the window. The knocks were coming in a rhythm, so she used the next few to locate a door behind a dresser.

She was a bit breathless from pushing the furniture aside.

Opening it revealed Adrien holding a lantern, smiling sheepishly.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered, amazed. “And why are you in the wall? That's so weird.”

“The servants used to use them,” Adrien explained, keeping his free hand on the wall to balance. He was too tall for the passageway, so he had to crouch down uncomfortably. “Can I come in?”

“Like I'd send you back,” she replied, taking the lantern from his hand to place it on the moved dresser. “Did you really creep around to come and see me?”

“No one was letting me!” he complained, straightening up to his full height. “Something about not overwhelming you—”

For once, he wasn't dressed properly. Adrien was in button-up pyjamas with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape.

His hair was still damp.

Marinette put her hand on his cheeks. “You didn't even dry your hair.”

At first, he stiffened before he relaxed, leaning into her touch. “You're more important.”

“Even if I lied to you?” she questioned.

“You didn't lie,” he replied, smiling at her sweetly. “You omitted the truth like I did.”

It made her laugh. “We're pretty perfect for each other, huh?”

“I think you're perfect,” he murmured.

“I was warned that you'd be mopey,” she teased, pinching his cheek gently before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a loose embrace. “Where's that grumpy face I saw for a bit when you came into the dining hall?”

“How can I be sad now that you're here?” Adrien brushed his nose against hers. “And you wore the flower crown I bought you.”

“Maybe I'm not here for you,” she said.

“Any time with you is enough for me,” he responded, placing kisses all over her face. Her favourite was when he brushed her hair aside to kiss her forehead. “I don't mind if I'm only an extra.”

“You're stupid,” Marinette replied fondly. “I'm here for you, Adrien.”

“That's Prince Adrien to you,” he teased.

“Prince Adrien,” she repeated, trying not to laugh as she stood on her tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “It's lovely to see you again.”

He didn't kiss her back immediately. “You're getting my hopes up.”

“I should hope so,” Marinette said matter-of-factly. “I'm here to sweep you off of your feet.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners from his smile. “Are you going to catch me this time?”

“That's the plan,” she confirmed.

He finally kissed her properly.

Marinette responded enthusiastically, running her fingers through the bottom of his hair. It was drying slowly, so it wasn't making her hand wet.

When his arms wrapped around her middle, she wasn't expecting anything. They'd done this before; back in the café when they'd kissed and chatted for hours on end, savouring their last moments together.

It was different this time, though.

“There's a bed,” she murmured.

Adrien made a choked noise and pulled away.

“Adrien?” she questioned in concern.

His face was red.

She caught on to what she said.

“I meant—I meant for us to sit on!” she exclaimed, feeling her face heat up. “I wasn't trying to suggest—”

“Marinette,” he said, laughing aloud. “You really are sweeping me off of my feet.”

She huffed. “Be quiet.”

Adrien winked at her. “I know a way to keep my mouth busy.”

“You're insufferable,” she muttered, taking his hand to pull him towards the bed. “My intentions are innocent and pure. You're the one that broke into my room in the middle of the night.”

He sat down beside her with a smile. “Can I stay all night?”

“And be caught here?” she countered.

“So what if rumours spread?” Adrien questioned. “We're meant to be, you and I.”

“It'll ruin your reputation,” she pointed out.

“Marinette,” he said again, placing his hand on her thigh. “Why would I care about that? You're the only one that matters to me.”

She was stubborn. “Your parents wouldn't approve.”

“Do you mean of us?” he questioned, trailing his hand down to touch where her knee was covered. “Or... what we could get up to at night?”

She swallowed. “Both?”

“Again, we're meant to be,” he smugly reminded her. “I'm not betrothed to anyone either. Are—are you?”

“No,” she whispered.

Adrien kissed her cheek. “Will you marry me?”

Marinette felt breathless. “Are you proposing to me?”

All of her felt warm and happy. It wasn't the awkward reunion she'd feared—Adrien was overjoyed to see her and was treating the same as he had before. There was no difference in his behaviour now that he knew of her status.

Regardless of who she was, she was the same to him.

And that was lovely.

“If you'd attended the ball, I would've done this anyway,” he admitted, resting his forehead against hers. There was nothing but affection in his gaze. “You ran away before I could.”

“Excuse you, I did not run away—”

“You're avoiding my question,” he said.

Marinette narrowed her eyes. “You didn't ask properly.”

“Have you received any other proposals?” he countered. “I think mine was average.”

“My parents always told me to accept nothing but the best,” she proclaimed.

Adrien kissed her cheek again before he kneeled on one knee in front of her.

She laughed. “You don't have a ring.”

“I don't,” he agreed. “However, I do have free access to the treasury for you.”

Marinette put her hand under his chin, lifting his head to look at her properly. “Are you wooing me with your wealth?”

“I've been trying to do that from day one,” he pointed out. “You just wouldn't let me.”

“Am I letting you now?” she questioned, tapping the end of his nose.

“I hope so,” he said, smiling as he rested his cheek on her knee, looking at her with an innocent expression. “Would you really reject me after crossing the ocean to see me?”

“You're getting too cocky,” Marinette remarked. “I'm here for... international relations? Yes.”

He laughed. “Definitely.”

It almost felt too good to be true. All of the hurdles she'd thought they'd face had disintegrated, and it would've been resolved earlier if either of them had admitted the truth.

They were perfect for each other like that.

She couldn't call him out for it without being a hypocrite.

“I thought you'd be mad at me,” Marinette admitted, brushing his hair away from his face. It had dried fully now and looked frizzier than she'd ever seen it. “About lying.”

“I lied as well,” he reminded her. “I can't blame you at all.”

“You invited me here.”

Adrien's smile was as soft as his voice. “You're the one that came back.”

“I looked at the newspaper like you told me to,” she confessed. “I did... forget for ages, though. Sorry.”

He shot up with a dramatic gasp. “You forgot about me?”

Marinette nodded. “You're very forgettable.”

“That's it, I have nothing to live for,” Adrien proclaimed, making a scene about standing up before he fell back on the mattress, covering his face with his arm. “I'm dead now.”

She laughed. “Tell me you didn't give up the throne to pursue a career in acting.”

“I take offence to that!” he exclaimed.

“Quiet,” Marinette said, hitting his arm lightly. “What if someone comes because you're making too much noise?”

“They wouldn't come in without permission,” he assured her, moving his arm away so she could see his pretty smile. “I can be all yours for tonight.”

She moved closer, crossing her arms on his chest to rest her head on them. Although he shifted to get more comfortable, he didn't push her away. “Only tonight?”

Adrien didn't hesitate. “Every night, if you'll have me.”

“You're so smooth,” she complained, burying her face in her arms. “How can you come out with all these lines?”

“Lines?” he repeated with a laugh. “You just called me a bad actor. Do you really think I'm reciting from a script?”

“Maybe you're only good at romance,” she muttered.

“I hope I'm not awful at it,” Adrien replied, patting the top of her head. “Although, you avoiding my proposal is ruining my self-confidence.”

“Of course, I'll marry you, stupid,” she mumbled, still hiding her face. “Do you even have to ask?”

“I can't hear you,” he said in a sing-song voice.

Marinette lifted her head with a glare. “Yes, I'll marry you.”

Adrien let out a delighted laugh. “This sounds like a threat.”

“It is,” she said, continuing to glare.

“Cute,” he cooed.

“Stop,” she complained, poking his cheek. “My tolerance of you is so low right now. I feel embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” Adrien questioned, taking a hold of her hand to kiss her fingertips individually. “What are you embarrassed for?”

“Shy, then,” she corrected.

His smile showed his teeth. “I could kiss the shyness out of you.”

Marinette flicked his nose. “You're so indecent.”

“Indecent?” Adrien got out through his laughter, thoroughly amused by her word choice. “We're not doing anything scandalous right now.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Right now, is it?”

He had the gall to wink at her. “There is a bed.”

“Adrien!”

He laughed.

They stayed up until the sun was rising in the distance, talking while curled up in each other's arms, and with a distinct lack of clothing.

Marinette had never felt happier.

And when she woke up first, she found out that Adrien looked pretty while he was sleeping as well.

He kissed her before going back through the passageway to avoid being caught with her.

There wasn't a plan.

For breakfast that morning, Marinette gleefully dragged Chloé along with her to the dining room after getting permission for her to come. There was a skip in her step as she entered, smiling brighter when she saw that Adrien was already at the table.

She took the seat across from him.

Sadly, it was too far for her to nudge him with her foot.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, Adrien,” she replied shyly.

Chloé kept quiet until Félix addressed the both of them, wishing them a good morning. Before they could get into pleasantries, the king and queen arrived as the food was served.

Adrien didn't waste any time.

“Where's Aunt Amelie?” he questioned.

“In bed, dear,” Emilie responded. “She had… too much to drink last night.”

“In that case, Mother, Father, I have an announcement,” he said, sounding giddy. Without waiting for a response, he elaborated, “Marinette has agreed to marry me.”

Félix made a choked noise.

Likewise, Chloé had the same reaction.

“We've agreed on spending an equal amount of time here and at her home,” Adrien continued, not discouraged by their reactions at all. “And her parents have already given their blessing.”

Gabriel breathed out audibly.

“That's... wonderful?” Emilie said hesitantly, looking at Marinette for reassurance. And when Marinette grinned, Emilie straightened up. “Since you've both planned this out already, do you have a date in mind?”

“No,” Marinette said.

“Instead of the ball next year,” Adrien announced.

She blinked.

Félix looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

She had to assume that Chloé's reaction was similar.

Marinette had to ask, “Why that date?”

Gabriel sighed. “He hasn't told you yet.”

“I forgot!” Adrien defended, the top of his ears turning red. “It's... that's the day that the prophecy was made.”

“The very reason we have the ball as well,” Emilie helpfully pitched in. “Although, we haven't told anyone outside of the family for that reason. They're under the impression that I like spending money.”

“Okay, let me get this right,” Marinette said, trying to recall everything that she'd been told. “The prophecy stated that I'd fall into Adrien's arms in a... garden?”

Adrien laughed. “It's a special garden?”

“Gabriel gifted it to me for our engagement,” Emilie told her. “We rent it out for private use throughout the week and allow the public inside on certain weekends.”

“Oh,” she said. “I had no idea.”

Adrien pointed out, “You never asked.”

“You never told me!”

“If you two get married, please live somewhere else,” Félix muttered.

“Hey!” Adrien exclaimed. “That's so rude, I'm a delight—”

Beside her, Chloé mumbled, “Why am I here?”

“Moral support,” Marinette replied, patting her friend's arm. “And to help me plan my wedding?”

“I'd rather kill myself.”

“So rude,” she gasped, taking her hand back to put it over her heart. “And here I was going to suggest we have it back home so your mother can attend.”

Chloé's scowl disappeared. “You'd... want her to come?”

“Of course,” Marinette said. “She's a very lovely lady. It's a shame she's exiled, but you never know, I might be able to sweet-talk the people in charge to change that.”

Chloé snorted. “That's dreaming too big.”

“Félix, don't hit Adrien,” Emilie scolded, sounding exasperated. “What kind of impression are you two making?”

“Two?” Adrien questioned. “I'm the one being beaten up.”

Félix replied, “You deserve it. I want one day of peace without you moping or being over the top like you've had too much sugar.”

Adrien pouted. “You don't want to see me happy.”

“I don't want to see you at all,” Félix corrected.

Marinette almost laughed aloud.

“What the fuck is going on,” Chloé whispered.