Once upon a time...
The capital was alight with lanterns, burning bright to welcome the sun in the hopes that it would soon chase away the darkness and the frost. The zenith of the cold months had been reached and endured, spring right around the corner, and the people rejoiced. The festival of the winter solstice culminated in one bountiful night of revelry, with families exchanging gifts and friends dancing in the streets. Carols drifted in the air, the freezing winds carrying them even to the highest tower of the palace.
Which was where Prince Adrien sat, listening to the faint hints of a celebration he was not allowed to attend.
He stuffed another pastry into his mouth and scowled. Made by the supposedly best baker in the realm, he tasted nothing of the sweetness. The honey cake crumbled into broken bits as he squeezed it too tight, rolling the disintegrating remains between his fingertips.
Damn his father's superstitions.
It's not safe to go out when Underhill is so close, Adrien.
And yet, somehow, magically, everyone else in the realm made it through the night just fine. The only danger people had to contend with was the fierce threat of a hangover.
The prince eyed the barricaded door, iron lining every crevice. A protective circle of runes was half-visible, drawn with chalk on the threshold. Every winter solstice – and summer, too, for that matter – Adrien had spent this way. Locked alone in a room with food, water and some books to further his education. As soon as he'd turned old enough to be trusted not to stab himself with it, his father had also left him an iron longsword.
Ridiculous.
It had been an exciting game when he'd been a child, eager to play along with his father's delusions. He'd been a brave knight under siege, defending himself against the vicious fae armies who were surely just outside, plotting to break through.
But now Adrien was almost a man grown and had long since tired of games.
Nino was having the time of his life right now, and Adrien should be having it with him. But he was here. Locked in a tiny room. Keeping himself safe from imaginary threats.
Anger churned inside of him.
He did not mind indulging his father's superstitions. Truly, he did not. But if Adrien was to spend the greatest celebrations of the year locked up in perpetuity, the least his father could do was keep him company.
King Gabriel leaned back in his throne, clutching the hilt of his sword.
The great hall was empty, the servants dismissed for the night, likely stuffing their faces and drinking themselves into a stupor elsewhere. While the capital was alight, the palace was not.
Blackness bubbled up at the very center of the room, as it had on every solstice since his heir had become more man than boy. A hand rose, claws digging into the fine marble to find a hold. A thin, spindly figure dragged itself out of the hole, dripping darkness as it crawled toward the throne.
Then it paused and raised its head, smiling wide. Its teeth were sharp and far too many.
"Where is my due, King?"
"He is not yours."
"But he is. You gave him to me, remember?"
Gabriel's lips thinned.
"You tricked me."
The Lady of Misfortune laughed haughtily and raised herself to her full height. Black tar was dripping off her, but where it had seeped away it revealed a deceptively beautiful creature. Full red lips and striking blue eyes, long black locks flowing behind her.
"You chose to get drunk and boast that you would trade your firstborn for the crown." She tsked. "Jealousy is such an ugly trait, my King."
Gabriel's grip on his weapon tightened as his lips curled back in a silent snarl. This woman had murdered his brothers, picked them off one by one, until only he was left to take the throne. And now this revolting being had the gall to demand his son?
Never.
"He is not yours."
"You cannot hide him from me forever."
"No. But then, it does not have to be forever, does it?"
Her eyes glowed red for but a moment before she once more smoothed her visage into beauty. She sauntered closer and he raised his sword to keep her at bay.
"Leave me be, fae. You are not welcome, and you'll find no more bargains here."
"I will tear you to pieces, human," she said pleasantly. "You cannot escape a deal with a fae. A price must be paid, and it will be either his life or yours."
"Then it will be mine."
Her lips thinned, and she stared at him with hate filled eyes, her pupils like that of a cat. But suddenly, the slits grew wide and round. Slowly, she tipped back her head, scenting the air.
Lady Misfortune laughed, and it was the loveliest sound there ever was.
"Found you," she said in a sing-song voice, and Gabriel's cold heart grew still.
Adrien drove his sword deeper into the narrow opening, putting more of his weight into the leverage. Iron screeched before giving way, and just like that, the window sprang open. Finally.
He leaned forward to look down, calculating any possible paths. Adrien had spent much of his youth climbing these walls, having been born gifted with strength, agility and, as father liked to put it, 'far too little common sense.'
Or, as Adrien liked to put it, an overabundance of daring.
He grinned and swung one leg over the window sill. For one moment he hesitated but then shook his head. He'd make his way back up before dawn and the king would be none the wiser. With practiced motions his fingers dug into any crevices they could find, his boots finding their hold on jutting bricks. His descent was slow and patient until the last few feet, at which point he let go and landed with catlike grace on the outer walls of the palace.
Dusting himself off, he turned toward the capital, grinning wide.
Nino was off dancing with the other nobles of the court and as much as he wished to join his best friend, word of the prince attending that particular gathering would surely reach father's ear.
So, nothing to do but mix with the common folk.
The guards of the southern gate were deep in slurred conversation.
"–and the most generous tracts of land." An armored glove mimed cupping something in front of a breastplate, and the rest of the men burst into raucous laughter.
Which died instantly when they spotted Adrien, to be replaced by elbow shoves and quick scrambling to stand at attention.
"Y-Your Grace!" The Captain on duty saluted and miscalculated the gesture, hitting his helmet's visor. It promptly slammed shut over his eyes. The man stood frozen, appearing unwilling to move from his respectful stance.
Albeit he was moving, swaying ever so slightly.
Adrien winked at the group. "I shan't tell if you don't. I'm sneaking out to the market square."
While half the guards relaxed, one – a rather small fellow and an evidently sober one – frowned. "Your Grace, is that a good idea without an escort? There's a chance you might be accosted. Perhaps we should–"
"Accompany me? Dear sir knight, that defeats the purpose of sneaking." Adrien grinned wide. "Besides, the lot of you is three sheets to the wind. I'd be guarding you more than you'd be guarding me. So. This shall be our little secret, yes?"
An eager chorus of agreement answered, one of them shouting at 'Max' to not be such a priss. Adrien was about to take his leave when he paused as a thought struck him. He'd need money, wouldn't he?
"Might I borrow some coin from one of you? I'll pay you back in the morn'. With interest."
"I've got you, mate. I mean. Your Grace." The tallest – and drunkest – of the knights dug out his purse and threw it.
Adrien caught it with ease. "Much appreciated, sir…?"
"Sir Kim, Your Grace." He raised the ale he'd been keeping hidden behind his back.
Adrien eyed the tankard with curiosity. His father abhorred all liquor, forbade Adrien to imbibe. But, well, this was a night for rebellion, was it not?
The knight must have noticed his interest because he produced a second tankard from seemingly nowhere, holding it out to him. "'s bad luck to leave without one for the road," he said.
"Well, we can't have that," Adrien said. "I heard Misfortune stalks these streets tonight."
While he laughed at his private joke, it only confused the knights, likely because for them a solstice was a night only for joy and celebration. But the moment passed when Adrien tipped his head back and let the bitter liquid slide down his throat. With the aid of the men's encouraging shouts, he finished the drink in one motion. The guards cheered, and Adrien laughed once again, a pleasant warmth spreading through his body.
"Keep this gate open for me, will you?" With a glance at the lone sober guard, he added, "And if I'm not back in two hours, you have my permission to come find and drag me back."
"Understood, Your Grace." Sir Kim saluted with his tankard and Adrien waved as he took his leave.
As he walked the winding alleys, following the sounds of the crowd, a peculiar tingle crept up from the very tips of his fingers. He slowed his stride, marveling at the sensation of inebriation setting in. Adrien closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The winds of winter were cold, but this one carried the scent of cinnamon. Not far to the central marketplace now. Already he could hear the soft hum of voices.
"Here, kitty."
Adrien opened his eyes with a frown and his steps stuttered to a halt entirely.
He was staring at the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Ruby red lips curved into a smile, her black hair wild and untamed. She raised one elegant hand and turned it so her palm faced the sky. Then she crooked one finger. Beckoning.
Adrien glanced over his shoulder. The narrow alley was deserted save for the two of them. Did she mean him?
"Come to me, kitty," she crooned.
Adrien's gaze once more swept the dark street, looking for the cat she meant to lure. Had it run away? But the street was empty. In fact, it had grown entirely silent except for the faint crinkle of her gown's fabric fluttering in the wind.
He took an uncertain step toward the woman, unable to help himself. She was so lovely, and he wished to gaze upon her for a moment longer. If she'd lost her pet, then he'd help her find it.
"Can I help you, Madame?" His voice was husky, the liquor making him bold.
"Perhaps." Her blue eyes shone in the darkness, twinkling like the stars. "I've been looking for so long, but I can't seem to find him."
"Tell me what he looks like and I'll help you search."
She gasped. "Oh! I think I just saw him dart into that alley. Follow me!"
Perhaps he should have bristled at the command, more used to giving than receiving, but he did not hesitate to hurry after her when she ran past. She left behind a faint trace of her perfume – something floral. Sweet. But then the scent faded, swept away by the wind. More.
Adrien broke into a sprint, but the woman was fast, so he redoubled his efforts to keep up with her. He chased her through winding passageways and narrow backstreets, yet every time he came close to catching her, she suddenly ducked around a corner. Strangely, when he turned the very same corner mere heartbeats later, she was so far ahead he had trouble even spotting her silhouette.
A growl rose in the back of his throat. She would not escape him!
Throwing propriety to the wind, he crossed the distance between them in a few leaps. He nearly crashed into her when she skidded to a sudden halt and turned to face him. Her finger tapped his nose and he grew still, utterly mesmerized.
"Come kitty." The woman kept her voice low to not spook their prey. "It's in here."
He nodded and made sure to tread lightly as she pushed open a door. Inside, there was a room with only a single table at its center. But, oh, the plain wooden bench was overflowing with a feast, meats and roasts and goblets filled with wine. How fitting for such a day of celebration. He'd known that the solstice would be brimming with delights, but never had he imagined anything like this.
Licking his lips, he prowled closer. Her fingers brushed his nape and he grew still.
"What's your name?" she asked.
His name? He had one, he was certain of it. A noble one. But the liquor was dulling his senses and somehow it wouldn't come when called. He stared at her, eyes wide, humiliation burning in his gut. What kind of simpleton couldn't remember his own name?
"What's yours?" he countered, biding his time.
Her eyes twinkled. "That's for you to find out. For now, you may call me your Lady."
"My Lady," he whispered.
She smiled at him and it was like the sun's light tiptoeing over the horizon. His response had pleased her, he could tell.
"Come. Dine with me." His Lady took her seat at the very head of the table, a delicate hand reaching for one of the golden chalices. "And indulge me in a toast."
Eager to discover more of the marvels of liquor – his skin was burning, veins on fire with passion – his claws clacked against the goblet's metal as he raised it.
Never drink or eat what a fae offers you. It will strip you of your humanity until you are just like them, corrupted to your very soul.
But those were the silly ramblings of a superstitious mind, so he dismissed the faint voice. He'd escaped it for a reason, after all. The liquid was sweet and slid smoothly down his throat and again he finished it all at once.
His Lady's blue eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and he, too, was satisfied to have pleased her. He shuddered when her fingertips brushed his jaw, scratching the stubble, before moving further up.
"My, what big ears you have," she said. And laughed.
He laughed, too. Not because he understood the jest, but simply because the Lady's laughter was so very lovely and he wanted to join in. Besides, the solstice was a night for revelry, for indulgence and for feasting. His gaze darted to the food, but she had not yet taken her seat. Her fingers were still in his golden mane. His eyelids fluttered at the simple pleasure of being petted.
Why had he never been spoiled like this before? It was a marvelous sensation. It was his birthright to be pampered. After all he was a p–
He growled in frustration. Why were words so sluggish tonight? Perhaps he should have not drunk so much at once after all. But then the Lady filled his goblet once more and he had not the heart to deny her when she held it out to him. He drunk deep, not bothering to resist when she undid his belt, sending his sword cluttering to the floor.
Right. How rude of him to have sat down at her table with a weapon on him. And the belt had been pinching his backside anyway.
"So what is your name? I must know. Tell me."
He whined, so strong was the need not to disappoint her. "…Adrien? Adrien Agreste." Was that right? The vowels felt foreign on his tongue.
"Adrien Agreste," she repeated thoughtfully, and the name reverberated in his bones. But then she shook her head. "No. That's not it."
A friendly voice, warm and pleading. "Come now, Adrien, surely you can change his mind? I know your father's set in his ways, but tonight's the night."
"Adrien," a sharp voice said, the king's edict final as always. "I do not care what Lord Lahiffe has invited you to, you must stay inside tonight. Our court does not lack for festivities for you to attend, you'll survive without this one."
"I'm Adrien," he said uncertainly, clinging to the memories. That was what people called him, wasn't it?
"But it doesn't suit you at all," the woman said with a titter. "Look."
Her long fingers closed around a handheld mirror on the table, and he reverently took it from her hand, gazing at his reflection. Green cat eyes stared back, surrounded by handsome black fur in the shape of a domino mask.
"Don't you agree?"
Agree with what? What – what had they been talking about? He swayed, and his reflection frowned. But – that wasn't his reflection at all, was it? In the mirror was a stranger, one with bare pink skin and small round ears. Something was – something was wrong, something didn't fit but he couldn't figure out what, liquor slowing the flow of his thoughts. Maybe sneaking out had been a bad idea after all.
"I – I should go," he whispered, laying the mirror on the table. He had to be back before dawn. Somewhere. Meeting someone. It was important to be back before dawn.
"But don't you wish to dine with me?"
Back, go back, leave, something's wrong.
He pushed himself away from the table and fell to all fours, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not seem to make himself balanced on two legs.
So he crawled, her delighted laughter at his back. What was so funny?
"Here, kitty, kitty."
He froze, the familiar call drawing him in. Slowly he swiveled his head around. His sharp gaze swept across the feast laid out before him, the scent of blood making his mouth water. Was the meat still warm? How had he not noticed that?
She smiled and raised an apple to her lips, biting into the rotten fruit.
Now he was free to eat as well. Pets were not allowed to start a meal without their owner's permission. Not that he was anyone's pet. So where had that thought come from?
"Come dine with me, kitty. Eat up, it's all for you."
He prowled closer, setting his hands on the bench to get a better look at what she was offering. Meat. Succulent and warm, right in front of him. Deciding to forgo the cumbersome fork and knife, he snatched a bloody chunk with his sharp fangs.
"Tell me your name, sweetling."
He paid her no mind, climbing on the bench and setting his front paws to both sides of his plate, burying his face in the fresh kill. It would taste better if he had hunted it himself, but he would accept the gift all the same.
"Do you not have one?"
No.
"I suppose I'll have to give you one, then."
He paused, licking his fangs to catch the red drip. A name given to him by this Lady? Her body thrummed with power, but so did his. By what right would she claim him?
She tapped one long finger against her chin, contemplating.
"I'd like to tame you, sweet kitten, and I have reason to believe you'd enjoy it. I have woods to hunt in, dangerous lands for you to claim as territory, and an empty spot next to my throne. You could sit at my feet and I would pet your pretty hair."
That did sound tempting.
"Do we have a bargain? Shall I take you in and name you?"
The tip of his tail twitched. A name? For him? What would she choose? He leaned forward with curiosity. She must have read his interest, for she smiled wide, red eyes aglow.
"A sleek and graceful creature like you, with fur as dark as my night? I think I'll call you Chat Noir."
