Adrien had come to the conclusion that he was afraid of love.

He looked up from the dark leather book he was reading when Nathalie, one of the main servants, deposited a stack of cream colored envelopes onto his desk.

"More eligibility letters, Your Highness." Her tone showed no emotion, as usual.

"Thank you, Nathalie." The prince gingerly picked up an envelope and examined it briefly before returning it to the neatly stacked pile. It was quite clear that he wasn't planning on reading them anytime soon.

He watched the white double doors close as Nathalie exited the room. He picked up his book to resume the chapter, but he had only gone a few sentences before losing interest and setting it down again.

His father sure was an expert at dampening his mood on a daily basis.

Ever since he had reached the age of eligibility simply a few months ago, his father had been trying to find him a woman of noble birth to marry him off to. He didn't understand why his distant father was making decisions for a love life that didn't belong to him. Yet it wasn't like he could protest since he had to keep up the appearance of the perfect obedient son.

Princes were supposed to be the saviors in shining armor who were always there to save damsels in distress. He didn't seem to fit the part, since he wasn't allowed to set foot outside of his home — if he could even call it that.

He wasn't in charge if his life; his father was the one who did it for him. That's what all these incessant letters were, presenting princesses and eligible women of noble blood for him to marry. Of the hundreds of women suggested, there were only a few who were actually his age; all the others were either younger or older.

He didn't want to be suddenly married off without knowing the person he was joining himself with. It was like being shackled with a stranger — no, it was being shackled with a stranger without the metal cuffs; they would be swapped with golden rings.

Being married was being tied to someone he would have to spend the rest of his life with. He would like to at least get to know the person first, yet his father never asked him what he thought about it. Was it too much to ask?

He pushed back his chair brusquely and stood up from his cream and gold desk. At times like this he wanted desperately to leave the lifeless castle, ride his gelding for a while, get some fresh air. But, since it was strictly forbidden, the prince would have to remain here.

That didn't mean his secret other half had to stay too.

"Excessively controlling parents are the worst," Adrien muttered bitterly, looking down at the silver band around his finger. "Especially when it's an overbearing father."

A small black cat suddenly appeared beside him, floating in the air. "You're wrong. A lack of Camembert is the worst." It's whiskers twitched at the word.

The prince rolled his green eyes. "You wouldn't know. Your stomach is always full to bursting."

"May I remind you that my last charge also lived in France, and during that time there was a lack of food, and when Queen Marie-Antoinette heard they didn't even have bread, and let me add, cheese, she said, 'Let them have—' "

"Okay, okay, no need to act like my tutor." He sighed. "Plagg, can I..."

"Do another early patrol?" the kwami finished with a knowing look on his face.

"If I may. I want to clear my head of all... This," Adrien murmured, making a sweeping motion with his hand towards the waiting stack of eligibility letters. It was teetering, as if it were ready to topple over at any given moment.

"Yeah, sure, do what you must. Just give me some Camembert first, would you?"

The boy smiled and produced a slice of the foul smelling cheese from one of the drawers in his desk. For the fun of it, he tossed it up into the air and laughed when Plagg caught it in his mouth, swallowing it whole as usual.

"You're quite the glutton, you know."

"What can I do? Camembert is an exquisite delicacy."

"For you." Adrien raised his arm in a flexing position. "Plagg, Claws Out!"

The kwami was sucked into the ring as Adrien transformed into his other half. He wasted no time when the process was over and leapt out of his room, off of his balcony.

His castle was on a high point of the kingdom, providing him with an excellent view of whatever was going on. The streets were busy with merchants selling their wares. Children frolicked among the throngs of people, laughing as they ran about. Chat Noir felt a smile dawn on his face as he watched them.

It gave him great joy to see the children so happy, but in a way, it gave him deep sadness as well. He was partly responsible that they could live happy lives, since he was one of the protectors of Paris, and that filled him with pride. Yet watching them reminded him of the childhood he should have had, but he hadn't been able to have long enough, because it had been swiftly stolen from him.

As he went past them with leaps and bounds, the children looked up, squinting from the sun, and smiled at the sight of the black clad hero. "Look, it's Chat Noir!"

Hearing his name come from people who truly loved him, actually cared about him, really looked up to him...it made his day.

It was fairly warm for spring, and he was glad for the oppurtunies he could seize to spend some time outside of the castle besides saving people. He wasn't allowed to go out, since his father feared for his safety because there were attacks from the malicious Hawkmoth and the occasional group of troublesome rebels. At least, that was the excuse Gabriel gave him.

Wind whipped at his face, messing up his golden hair even more than it already was. Exhilaration, energy, freedom — that was what he felt when he was Chat Noir.

After milling about for a while, he stopped to sit on one of the roofs of the numerous houses of his kingdom. This house had a good view of the beautiful green valleys, lush forests and glittering blue rivers that stretched out to places he longed to visit, but probably wouldn't ever be allowed to. His father was like an overprotective hawk who wouldn't let his son open his wings and fly.

He wondered what would happen when the time came where flying would be necessary. Would he still hold him back? Or would he finally let him go?

His father hadn't always been like this. Sure, he had always been known to have a cold character, but now there was his controlling attitude that was there to accompany it. At least before he had used to laugh. Used to read stories to him when he could. Used to mess up his hair. Used to have life in his eyes.

Gabriel Agreste used to be someone he looked up to. Now he didn't even know who he was. He was seeing him less and less. He remembered one time he had seen him walk out from his study with twice the amount of gray sheen in his hair than he had seen before.

On his birthdays, his father sent him gifts through Nathalie like he lived on the other side of the world rather than the other side of the hall. He rarely saw his face. All he did was constantly give him orders, and not even in person.

When was the last time he had heard him laugh? He couldn't remember. He remembered what it sounded like; deep, low, but most of all, alive. It had been so long since he had heard it. Now he was a distant and lifeless being who spent his time living hidden in a castle that was luxurious on the outside but not so much on the inside once you stayed long enough, with a barely acknowledged presence.