Alya's room became a hub of ideas and determination as Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Alya delved deeper into their plans for change. It wasn't easy. As they outlined options, Ladybug couldn't help but think of Luka and his involvement with the guards. She knew she had to find a way to protect him from any potential fallout, especially now that she was openly opposing both the Akumas and--possibly--from issues within the castle itself. She thought about the advisors--aside from Advisor Duval, Ladybug didn't see any of them as bad people. They were, just, people to her. 

"You know," Ladybug said, giving Alya a square look after Alya ended a rant about the Queen, which Ladybug simultaneously agreed with and felt guilty for agreeing with, "I also am worried about some of the guards."

But it was Chat who replied. "Because you work in the castle."

Ladybug jerked back, staring at him in shock. "What?"

Chat looked sheepishly down at his left arm, opening and closing his hand slowly, while Ladybug's heart pounded in her ears. When he spoke, she barely heard him, despite the silence of the night. "I followed you home, that one time you were hurt. It wasn't fair, I know, but i needed to make sure you were okay."

"Chat Noir." Ladybug's voice was a mixture of anger, hurt, confusion, fear, and -- could it be -- hope. "You should not have done that."

He held his hands up in surrender. "I know!" he said. "I know, and I'm sorry. But it does make sense why you didn't want me to know about who you are... Working in the castle is a big deal, but I promise I won't say anything. And it doesn't matter if you're a maid or a cook -- you're a hero in my eyes."

Despite herself, Ladybug flushed. "I haven't done anything heroic yet."

Chat just shook his head. "You have, but I am sorry. Anyway, you are worried about the guards?"

Ladybug was silent as she debated yelling at Chat or letting herself feel relief that he didn't know who she really was. Eventually she decided pushing it might make him more suspicious.

"I just worry that because they think what they're doing is right, they won't look into the wrongs, no matter what side it comes from."

Alya frowned. "The problem is that there are sides at all." 

Ladybug shook her head. "There will always be sides. Even you... as an akuma... are on a side. I'm just not sure the guards, all the akumas, the queen, the people in the kingdom, are all going to end up sitting in the same spot."

They'd left Alya's home with a lot of new information, mostly with the understanding that Akumas seemed to be split into two groups: those who wanted to kill the monarchy, and those who wanted a more democratic approach. But both sides had one goal: social change. None of them had the perfect plan, but they brainstormed options, possible 

In the end, they left with their own roles. Alya she was going to continue her skilled investigative journalism, but with the goal to find out who Hawkmoth was, looking from the inside. Ladybug was going to see what she could find out from within the castle, and Chat would continue his late night escapades. On their walk back to town, Marinette reviewed the heavy night. It had been a long, long day for her, and she was exhausted.

"What's on your mind, Ladybug?"

Ladybug moved her gaze toward Chat's face. They were in the streetlamp, and she could see him much better than she could normally. For the first time, his expression--despite hiding behind a mask that hid half his face--seemed very familiar. She looked down at his left arm, covered by his black costume she'd created for him, and covered with thick fingerless gloves. She shook the thought from her head before it could grow. 

"I'm thinking about what Gabriel Agreste and his assistant talked about," she said honestly. "His son -- Adrien -- and the princess are dating, and if Adrien is in on it, then that's scary for her, especially because his father's an Akuma. Does that mean he's an Akuma? And if he is one, why hasn't he done anything to her yet?" Then she shook her head again and laughed nervously. "Well, it's not like we would know if he did do something to her, right? But, when the bomb went off in town, it seemed like he got off quickly--too quickly. Too quickly, not injured, and left the princess behind."

"You heard that?" he asked dubiously. "You, who lives under a rock?"

She shrugged, searching for an excuse. Best to stick as close to the truth as possible. "You inspired me to read the news."

"I'm not sure that him leaving the bomb quickly had much to do with him. I mean, look at the guy, without an arm, he probably just hid like a baby."

Ladybug felt indignant on behalf of Adrien. "He's definitely capable of standing up for himself!" she said. "He's strong, and I've heard a lot of things about his fencing abilities. Just because someone doesn't have an arm doesn't make them any less capable.

He laughed--a little too hard, in Ladybug's opinion. Finally he said, "What, do you have a crush on the guy?"

Ladybug blushed, not that he can see very well in the light.  She turned away, focusing on her gloved hand, rubbing some non-existent dirt out of the fabric. "That would be ridiculous."

"Oh my gosh, you do!" he exclaimed, laughing. 

Chat Noir's teasing remark about her crush on Adrien had flushed her cheeks, and even in the dim light, he could see the faint tint of red on her mask. Her response was lighthearted, "Every teen girl had a crush on him when they were kids. I wasn't an exception." Not to mention the real-life kisses they had shared. But it also came with insecurity now she knew about Gabriel. 

He chuckled softly, a warm and genuine sound. "Well, you have good taste, my lady."

Ladybug couldn't help but smile beneath her mask, grateful for the momentary distraction from the weight of their responsibilities. "What about you? Any silly crushes in your life?"

Chat Noir's playful demeanor faltered for a moment as he glanced away, his masked eyes briefly clouded with emotions. He hesitated before answering, "Yeah, there's someone I've got my eyes on."

Curiosity piqued, Ladybug leaned closer, her voice gentle, "Care to share?"

He met her gaze, his emerald eyes reflecting a mixture of fondness and uncertainty. "It's complicated," he admitted. "But she's amazing, and I... I care about her a lot."

Ladybug nodded, understanding that some matters of the heart were complex and best left unspoken.

The night hung around them, the weight of their duties returning within the minutes as they walked. Ladybug's thoughts returned to the events of the day, the burdens she carried, and the uncertainty that loomed on the horizon. "Today has been overwhelming," she confessed, surprising herself with her words.

Chat Noir, surprising her, reached out to gently touch her gloved hand. "I know what you mean. But we're in this together, and we'll find a way to make things right."

She smiled softly, appreciating his support. "You're right, Chat. We have a plan, and we'll make a difference."

Chat Noir's masked face beamed with pride. "Absolutely, my lady. We're unstoppable together."

Their conversation drifted to the details of their upcoming mission and the challenges that lay ahead. Eventually, they arrived at a crossroads, both figuratively and literally. The time had come for them to part ways for the night. Ladybug felt a sense of reluctance, a desire to prolong their time together. She wasn't sure if she was ready to go back to the castle quite yet, but her exhaustion was slowly overcoming her, and she knew that by the time she got back to her room, she'd be overcome with droopy eyelids. They stood there, the night enveloping them, neither eager to say their final goodbyes. 

Finally, Chat Noir broke the silence, his voice gentle and sincere, "Stay safe, Ladybug. Until next time."

Ladybug nodded, her own voice filled with warmth, "You too, Chat. Until next time."

With a final lingering gaze, they parted ways, disappearing into the shadows of the night. Each step took them further from each other, Ladybug knew they would figure it all out. And the rest of the violence would stop. 

__________

The following day dawned with a heavy cloud of uncertainty hanging over the kingdom. The advisors' meeting was a somber affair, and the air in the room was thick with tension. Marinette, still reeling from the revelation of the previous night's events, entered the chamber with a sense of foreboding. She sensed that something sinister had transpired, according to their serious faces.

One of the advisors, a stern-looking man with a salt-and-pepper beard, cleared his throat and addressed the assembly. "My fellow advisors, esteemed Princess Marinette," he began, his voice carrying a grave tone. "We have disturbing news to report."

Marinette's heart quickened as she leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the advisor. 

The advisor continued, his words heavy with sorrow. "Last night, a heinous crime occurred within our kingdom. A child was murdered, and the perpetrator left a chilling calling card—on the body, there was a note, with a drawing on it..." his eyes slid to Marinette's as he pressed a button on his computer, and the projector turned on. Slowly, he pulled up a photo of a drawing, the page sitting on a metal table. The drawing was clearly done from a child, a stick figure with a crown on top and a large necklace--a pendant, Marinette realizes--hanging from her neck. The stick figure was holding hands with a child. 

Over the crayon drawing, in clear, smooth penmanship, someone had drawing black marks over the eyes of both characters--in the clear space, there were words: "Perfectly Perfect Princess." 

Marinette's breath caught in her throat, and her eyes widened in shock. A child's murder was a tragedy beyond comprehension, and the use of the child's drawing as a warning signature was deeply unsettling. She couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility, knowing instantly who had drawn it. 

"Who was the child?" she asked instantly, her voice shaking. 

Advisor Pliara spoke up, "I don't think--"

But the man clicked another button, and she saw the child's photo--one from when he was still alive. She doubled over as if she'd been punched. It was the child from the bombing. All the advisors burst into loud discussion, about what Marinette didn't know. She couldn't hear them yelling over the ringing in her ears, and she stared at the photo. Even when Advisor Pliara had closed the laptop and turned off the projector, Marinette saw the photo in her mind. The boy. He was a victim. This was her fault--if she'd saved him before, he wouldn't be a victim. He was so young, he'd tried to save his sister--he was a hero--and he was dead. 

Suddenly Marinette found herself being faced with Plagg, his face close to hers and his mouth moving silently. She nodded, trying to let him know she was listening, but with a frown, he yelled at the rest of the advisors, who all stopped moving and stared at him. He kept spoking, and it wasn't until he was almost done with his warning that she could hear clearly again.

"And with that, we need to understand -- the Akumas are responsible for this, and we have to be more secure in our efforts to stop them," he said. 

But Advisor Pliara's words veered into a direction she had not anticipated.

"This occured right outside of the Agreste Mansion." The grey-haired woman stood tall as the rest of the advisors took their seats. She started circling the table, holding her hands out in thought. "It is our belief that the mysterious woman seen with Chat Noir last night, dressed in red and fleeing the scene of the crime, may be connected to this heinous act. And," she stated, "Monsier Agreste has reported a missing necklace, much like the one in the photo."

Marinette's heart pounded in her chest. They thought she was the culprit—an assassin, another Akuma. And more than that, the Agrestes had the pendant stolen. She struggled to maintain her composure, her mind racing to devise a plan. She couldn't allow herself (well, her other self) to be implicated in this crime.

The advisors continued to discuss possible motives for the murder. They speculated that the assassin, driven by a desire to harm the Agreste family, had taken this horrifying step. And with Adrien's involvement with the princess, it was a sinister step closer to the throne itself. To them, Chat Noir and Ladybug wanted to get closer to the throne.

Marinette's thoughts were a whirlwind of chaos as she contemplated her next moves. She had to prove her innocence, find the real perpetrator, and protect her loved ones. But for now, she had to play her part as Princess Marinette, the picture of poise and royalty.

The Perfectly Perfect Princess. And she would play the part. 

_____

After the tense meeting, Plagg directed Marinette to her scheduled classes. Adrien looked visibly fatigued. His eyes were dark, face looking sunken. Yet when he saw her, his eyes lit up and his grin grew. 

"You look like you've had quite the night," Adrien quipped, a playful glint in his eyes. "Didn't sleep well?"

Marinette couldn't help but chuckle weakly. "I could say the same about you. Did someone have nightmares about spooky ghosts and ghouls, haunting your Halloween night?"

He draped his hand over his forehead, drama evident in his every movement. "You guessed spot on."

Their easy banter brought a semblance of normalcy, but Marinette couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her. Adrien's presence was a stark reminder of her dual life—the one as the princess and the other as a masked hero.

During their lessons, Plagg droned on about history, and then they delved into practicing languages. Marinette found herself preoccupied, her thoughts constantly drifting back into herself, thinking about the night before. She kept glancing at Adrien's face, flashes of Chat Noir's expression matching his own. 

As Plagg wrapped up the lesson, Marinette couldn't help but glance at Adrien's left arm. A shiver ran down her spine as her mind raced with doubts and suspicions. She opened her mouth to say something--though she didn't have that something in mind yet--but was interrupted by the sudden intrusion of Chloe. Marinette and Adrien looked at her, standing tall in the doorway.

"The Queen and King have arrived. They are waiting for you downstairs. 

This snapped Marinette out of her reverie. Panic surged within her, and she made a move to dash out of the classroom, but after only a few steps, Plagg grabbed her arm, preventing her hasty exit.

"Marinette, you need to be calm," Plagg whispered urgently before she could continue. "You don't know how they'll react. Play your part."

With Plagg's guidance, Adrien walked to her right side, and they both adjusted their demeanor to meet the highest standards of decorum. Marinette felt herself slipping into the role of the Perfect Princess, her smile polite but devoid of genuine warmth. Adrien, too, mirrored her expression, his face an unreadable mask.

Together, they descended the grand staircase of the palace, and Marinette couldn't help but notice the fleeting moment when Adrien reached over with his right arm, squeezed her hand for an instant, and then let it drop. She ignored the butterflies dancing in her chest.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, they came face to face with her father--the king--and the elegant woman who had replaced her late mother--the queen.

Marinette and Adrien executed a deep bow, a sign of respect and submission. The queen and king acknowledged their greeting with small nods. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension.

Finally, it was the queen who broke the silence. "Thank you, Adrien Agreste," she said, her voice carrying a tone of dismissal. Without hesitation, Adrien turned and left the room, leaving Marinette to face her father and step-mom alone.

Marinette stood, her heart pounding, as the queen addressed her, a formal tone to her voice. "Princess Marinette, we are delighted to be home and to see that you are in good health."

Marinette couldn't help but feel a surge of discomfort. She had yearned for their return, but the reality of their presence was far more complicated than she had imagined, especially because it seemed to come out of nowhere. "Thanks," she said. "I mean, thank you. I'm glad you're back."

The queen extended a small, red box to Marinette, her dark skin seeming to glow in the soft lighting. Her fingernails were long and white, and her green blazer moved above her wrist, showing off shiny gold bracelets. Marinette stared at the box, unsure if she was meant to grab it. Instead, she held out her hand. The queen spoke with a deep voice, reverberating in the room. "We brought you a gift, my dear."

Marinette accepted the box with a grateful smile and opened it to reveal a pair of exquisite earrings. They were adorned with delicate sapphires and emeralds, glistening in the soft light of the palace. The queen explained that she had wanted to give these earrings to Marinette for some time, as they had been a gift from a friend who believed in the power of love.

"These earrings," the queen said, her eyes locking onto Marinette's, "were given to me as a gift from a friend who believed in the power of love. I meant to give them to you at the wedding, but you ran off before I had the chance to talk to you. They will give you the strength to choose love above all else."

This was too formal, and Marinette barely remembered the wedding it seemed so far away. But, she accepted the earrings. Marinette's emotions swirled as she watched her father, King Tom, reach for her mother's hand and place a gentle kiss upon it. It was a sight that filled her with mixed feelings. She wanted to be happy for them together, for their return here, but the complexities of her own life weighed heavily on her. 

With grace and gratitude, Marinette thanked the queen and placed the earrings on her ears, feeling their weight as a reminder of the choices she would have to make.

The queen's final words were enigmatic. "You may continue your day as planned, Princess Marinette."

As Marinette turned and walked away, Chloe followed closely behind. The encounter had left her with a sense of unease, and she couldn't help but steal one last glance at her father. The pain of their strained relationship still lingered, and he didn't look at her once.

Determined to shake off the anxiety that had gripped her, Marinette told Chloe that she needed a brief walk. Chloe nodded obediently, and Marinette made her way outside. 

November had draped the world with a grey sky, and the first snowfall of the season came down slowly. The snowflakes were delicate, melting upon contact with the ground, yet they fell. Marinette wore nothing more than a light sweater, but as she felt the brisk air fililing her lungs, she allowed her mind to drift. Chloe trailed behind her, wary of breaking the princess's solitude.

"Can you stay here while I walk?" Marinette asked Chloe, hoping for just a few extra feet of space.

Chloe nodded, standing near the castle entrance, back straight.

Marinette wrapped her arms around herself, trying to fend off the biting chill in the air. Despite her discomfort, she refused to retreat inside the palace. 

As she entered her favorite garden spot, nestled between perfectly manicured bushes with a small metal table and chairs, Marinette's peaceful reverie was abruptly shattered. Advisor Duval sat before her, his presence a jarring intrusion. Fear surged through her, instantly making her feel hot and cold all at once.

"Princess," Advisor Duval greeted, setting down his book. He was swathed in a fur coat and appeared to be reading. According to his pink cheeks and nose, he must have been out here for quite some time. His polite tone barely masked the tension in the air. "You've interrupted my lunch break... please, take a seat."

Marinette, unable to refuse, sat down hesitantly. She settled into the cold metal chair, her breath forming small, visible puffs of white in the chilly air. Advisor Dufal, on the other hand, reclined in his chair with an air of casual confidence, one ankle resting casually on his knee. It was a stark contrast to her own shivering unease. His gaze wandered away from her at times, seemingly more interested in the scenic beauty of the dead landscape than their conversation. The once-vibrant greenery had lost its leaves, leaving the bushes surrounding them with bare, skeletal branches that reached for the cold blue sky. These skeletal silhouettes created a stark contrast to the otherwise monochromatic scene, their twisted shapes adding an eerie touch to the garden's frozen beauty.

However, when he did turn his eyes back to her, they held a piercing, analytical quality that made Marinette feel exposed and vulnerable. It was as if he could read her thoughts, and this sense of his power over her was deeply unsettling, adding to the tension of their conversation.

Marinette could feel the cold seeping through her light sweater. Her fingers, exposed through the fabric, quickly grew numb as she placed her hands in her lap, searching for warmth. The chairs around the table matched the metal, their hardness serving as a reminder of the tension that hung in the air.

"How are you, Princess?" Advisor Duval inquired, taking a sip from his drink. It was steaming, the lines of heat waving through the air.

Marinette forced a tight smile. "I'm fine, thank you."

"The King and Queen are back home," Advisor Duval continued, his tone inscrutable.

Marinette's reply was measured, her voice betraying nothing of the turmoil within her. "Yes, it's reassuring to have them back."

Their conversation danced on the precipice of danger, the other night dancing in her mind. Advisor Duval's body language was as unsettling as his words. Leaning forward, he lowered his voice to a chilling whisper that sent a shiver down Marinette's spine. "You need to remember, Princess, that I own you."

Marinette's eyes narrowed with defiance. "You'll never own me." Unfortunately, her voice shook, trust nonexistent. 

Advisor Duval, his eyes still locked onto Marinette's, veiled a threat within his carefully chosen words. He leaned in, his voice a sinister whisper that sent a chill down her spine. "You see, Princess," he began, his tone dripping with malevolence, "You didn't make me the promise I wanted the other night. But you should understand something. Despite the fact that you are the princess... you have no power here."

The words stung. Because Marinette knew it was true. She didn't have any power. The only true power she'd had since coming to the crown was when she'd left her house as Ladybug, and she'd only done that a small handful of times. She narrowed her eyes at Duval, who watched her with a prideful expression in his eyes. 

"Then what makes you think I can give you what you want?" she asked. "According to you, I have no power." 

He took a long sip of his drink and stared at the castle door, where Chloe stood as he spoke. "You don't have power to do anything, but you have enough power to put the right people in right places. I want to be in the right places." 

"Wouldn't that mean you had to be the right person?" she asked. 

His smile turned sour. His eyes bore into Marinette's as he reached out his hand, the finger tracing a slow, deliberate path around the rim of his cup. His gaze then shifted to her left hand, where her pale fingers curled around har right hand.

"I have the means to make certain... inconveniences disappear," he murmured, his voice as cold as the snowflakes that drifted around them. His words hung heavy in the frigid air, and his meaning was unmistakable. He pulled the black ring on his thumb off, and then flicked it onto his left hand. "Even young Adrien."

Marinette's stomach churned, and she recoiled in disgust. The implications of his words were sickening. "I would never be with you, not in a million years," she shot back, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and revulsion.

Advisor Duval hummed. Then, seemingly out of the blue, changed the subject to, out of everyone, Gabriel Agreste. He said, "I've noticed Gabriel Agreste's peculiar interest in jewelry." He pulled out a necklace, turning it in his hands, and recited a cryptic number: "2412."

Marinette's heart sank as she recognized the number from her previous encounters with the Akumas. "You stole that." it wasn't a question.

He shrugged. .

"Why are you telling me this if you're so adamant that you're not an Akuma?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Advisor Duval leaned back, his smile sending shivers down her spine. "I am not on the Akuma's side. I am on my side. Knowledge is power, my dear Princess. I possess a great deal of it, and it would be wise for you to follow my lead. Unfortunate accidents can befall even a precious Agreste boy."

Marinette questioned further, asking how he could be certain that Adrien wasn't an Akuma. Advisor Duval burst into laughter, his amusement filling the frosty air.

Advisor Duval's laughter cut through the cold air, his amusement unsettling. "Adrien? He's too juvenile for that," he taunted.

Their conversation continued, each word dripping with tension and unspoken threats. Marinette felt trapped, the atmosphere around them growing more oppressive with each passing moment. Advisor Duval's veiled insinuations and sinister promises hung in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over their encounter.

Desperation welled up within Marinette as she searched for a way to break free from this suffocating conversation, but Advisor Duval's malevolent gaze held her captive. She could almost taste the bitterness of their exchange, and every moment in his presence felt like an eternity in a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

Finally, Advisor Duval leaned in once more, his voice dripping with malevolence. "Remember, Princess, that I own you. No matter what you choose to believe, no matter what games you play, your body will be mine." His words hung in the frigid air, a chilling reminder of the power he held over her.

The memories of last October flooded Marinette's mind, and the weight of a year's worth of torment bore down on her. She couldn't bear to relive it with him again. Before she could think it through, she acted on instinct and delivered a swift punch to his nose.

Advisor Duval recoiled, blood streaming from his nose. For a moment, Marinette feared he would retaliate with violence, but instead, he simply laughed. His laughter sent shivers down her spine, and he declared, "I can make you angry. I can make you sad. I can even make you love me."

Before the tension could escalate further, Chloe appeared on the scene, having observed from a distance. She hadn't heard their conversation, but her presence provided a distraction.

Advisor Duval's demeanor shifted, and he suggested that Marinette should warm up, noting her cold appearance. He then left, leaving Marinette and Chloe to their own devices.

As they walked away, Marinette couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that Advisor Duval had left behind. As she turned back toward Chloe, the pain in her hand made itself present. Seeking a distraction from the pain and the encounter, she turned to Chloe. 

"Do you enjoy being a guard?"

Chloe gave her an odd look. Marinette could see the internal debate she had on the inside her head. But when she spoke, she responded positively, but there was an underlying tension in her voice. "I like being a guard," she said. "Do you enjoy being a princess?"

Marinette grimaced. "It's not what I was expecting."Then she probed further, sensing there was more to Chloe's feelings. "What is it you don't like?"

Chloe glanced around, checking for eavesdroppers, and hesitated before closing her mouth and shaking her head. "I am... grateful for the opportunity. Being a guard is simply not what I was expecting it to be."

Marinette prodded for more, her curiosity piqued. "What were you expecting it to be, Chloe?"

Chloe remained silent for a moment, then said, "Just."