Author's Note: Here it is! I am so, so excited to be restarting this Robin Hood AU. As you'll see, I'm adding new characters and starting off Ladybug and Chat Noir in very different positions than I had originally intended, so I'm really looking forward to seeing how this new dynamic works out. This fic will be updated every Saturday, so keep an eye out for that! Also, as a final note, the Friar in this story is meant to be Master Fu. However, because that name would be very unusual in this particular time period, I changed the name to Friar Peter in honor of Master Fu's voice actor, Paul St. Peter. Any constructive criticism you guys can give me on the story would be very much appreciated, and I hope you enjoy it!
It was well past midnight when Chat finally heard the clamping of horses' hooves against the old dirt road. It was his favorite kind of night, clouds blotting out the stars so that the entire world hung in a darkness that seemed almost tangible. Some nobles thought it safest to travel along Nottingham's road at night, hoping that it would offer them cover from bandits and they could pass the village undetected.
They were fools. Darkness was where he thrived.
As soon as the carriage came into view he was ready, lean muscles bunching in anticipation. The driver was anxious, his thin frame shifting in a seat that was too big for him. Chat narrowed his focus in on the window, lips twitching up into a half smile. He counted the heartbeats until it was in line with his hiding spot among the bushes, and as soon as he could see a shadow of the figure inside he leaped.
There was a moment of doubt, a hint of worry that he'd miscalculated, and then his hands gripped the roof of the carriage and his body swung in, landing silently in the empty seat.
The noblewoman sitting opposite of him stared with round eyes, one hand landing delicately on her chest. Chat leaned forward quickly to press his hand over her mouth.
"Don't scream," he whispered. Not that screaming would do her any good. He'd found in the past the drivers cared very little for those they transported when their own lives were on the line. But it was best he cut her off before she began, or she'd never stop. There was one noblewoman the summer before who'd been so panicked she'd actually started sobbing into his shoulder.
Her face had gone impossibly pale. She didn't look much older than he was, and he almost felt a twinge of sympathy. It disappeared the moment his eyes dropped to her throat. A bloodred ruby glimmered even in the darkness, hanging off a single delicate chain.
Chat met the woman's eyes again. "I'm going to take your necklace," he explained softly. "And then I'm going to leave. If you do nothing to stop me, I promise you won't be harmed. Do you understand?"
He could feel her trembling. After a few beats of silence, she nodded.
Chat used his free hand to grasp the necklace, jerking it once and snapping the chain. He tucked it away safely in his belt, and when he glanced up again he saw the noblewoman had started to cry. He didn't blame her. Many bandits in these parts weren't nearly as kind. They would never leave her alive.
He wasn't one of them.
He drew away from her and immediately swung back out the window, knees softening to brace himself against the fall. Dust stirred up as he landed (always on his feet), green eyes darting up to make sure the carriage continued on its way.
The people back in Nottingham called him a ghost, a demon. Some of them had spotted him with his tail and ears. He's not human, they would whisper, and he would hide a grin as they passed him. They were right, in a way.
He'd been stealing from carriages like this since last spring. He only had two rules. No peasants, and no children. As a result he'd earned himself a reputation back in Nottingham that was neither good nor bad - he was dangerous, wicked, certainly not to be trusted. But he also didn't take more than what people could afford to lose.
The carriage disappeared around a bend, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. One less thing to worry about that night.
Chat heard the whiz of the yoyo before he saw it, and by that time he'd already flattened himself to the ground. It struck a nearby tree, splintering the bark. He was on his feet in a second, staff expanding in preparation.
She dissolved from the trees, yoyo snapping back into her palm. Chat grinned, his staff held in front of him defensively.
"My lady! What a surprise. Don't tell me you came all this way just for me."
Ladybug took a warning step forward, swinging her yoyo in a circle so quickly it blurred. "Return what you stole, Chat."
His grin widened even as his muscles tensed. "Do I ever?"
He was ready when the yoyo shot out, meeting it easily with his staff. He didn't give her time to make a second attack, digging the end of the staff into the soft dirt and vaulting himself into an overhead branch. Ladybug glared up at him. "This needs to stop, Chat. These nobles don't deserve to be preyed on like this."
Chat raised an eyebrow. "Are you jealous, my lady? I promise none of them are prettier than you."
He just barely dodged the yoyo in time as it shot through the branches, snapping a few. It wrapped around a larger one just above his head, and this time he wasn't fast enough to avoid her as she flew up to join him, easily knocking him from his perch. He twisted in the air just in time to land on his feet, though his knees ached in protest at the unexpected jolt.
"I'm getting tired of these games," he grunted, scrambling to recover before she attacked again. "If you want alone time with me, you need only ask."
It had taken him about ten seconds during their first fight to realize that his comments irked her, and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed the way her cheeks had flushed the first few times. Now she always seemed ready, but he was still always poking at her, hoping for a reaction.
"You'll have plenty of alone time in the jailhouse," she retorted quickly, yoyo striking out and managing to hit his shin. He jerked back with a hiss of pain, glancing up at her and clucking his tongue.
"I'm afraid this relationship is moving just a bit too quickly for me." He danced a few more steps away from the tree and gave her a small bow. "Until we meet again, my lady."
"Chat!"
By the time her feet hit the road, he was gone.
.
"I don't want the waist to be too tight. I need to breathe, after all, especially if I'll be dancing."
Adrien obediently loosened his measurement of Lady Alya's waist as she chattered on, her eyes wide and admiring of the fabric sample he'd given her. Her father, Lord Cesaire, had ordered only the best for his daughter. Adrien's own father had consequently wasted no expense, finding a stunningly dyed fabric that mimicked the colors of the autumn leaves. The royal tailor had been called away only a few days after the purchase, and he'd left with a warning that Adrien's work on the dresses must have no complaints or there would be consequences.
Adrien wasn't worried. Lord Cesaire, though perhaps a bit over indulgent when it came to his daughter, was a fair man. For as much as he wanted to escape Nottingham, he liked the lord.
"Did you find fabric for Marinette's dress yet?"
Adrien's eyes darted toward where Maid Marinette stood in the corner of the small room, the edges of the candlelight just barely brushing over her. He'd almost forgotten she was there.
"We did. My father thought blue would complement the lady's eyes." Adrien paused from his work on Alya to gesture toward a table on the other side of the room. "You may look at it, Maid Marinette. We'd like your approval."
Marinette moved quickly and quietly, shooting a quick smile at Alya. Adrien didn't know much about Marinette and her family. She was painfully shy and quiet, but Alya seemed to adore her, and the two were rarely found apart.
"The May Day celebration is next week. Are you sure it will be ready in time?" Alya frowned in concern.
Adrien flashed her a quick smile. "I give you my word. You'll both look absolutely lovely for the celebrations."
Marinette's fingers drifted over the fabric lightly. "It's lovely," she murmured, barely loud enough for them to hear.
Alya beamed gratefully at Adrien. "And what will you be wearing to the celebrations?"
Adrien grinned back. "Does it matter? I doubt either of you will be concerned with me when you see how many eligible nobles will be asking for a dance."
Alya dismissed him with a wave of her hand and for some reason Marinette blushed bright scarlet. Adrien hesitated to call the two of them his friends - Marinette barely spoke to him, and Alya was far too highly ranked for such a friendship to be deemed appropriate in any society - but they were the closest he had, and he enjoyed moments like this, without his father, when he could relax and simply talk with them without having to worry about consequences.
He hated to admit it, but he would miss them when he left.
.
"You've been fighting with Lady Luck again."
Chat Noir bristled slightly as he watched Friar Peter light candles from the safety of the darkness, leaning against the wall of the church with his arms crossed. He frowned at the Friar's words. "She's the one that fights with me."
The Friar glanced at him, eyebrows raised. Even though Chat was a good head taller than the elderly man, Friar Peter somehow always managed to make him feel impossibly small and naive. "Perhaps she fights with you because she knows how the Miraculous is supposed to be used."
Chat avoided the older man's vivid amber gaze, instead diverting his attention to the empty pews of the church. That was how the two of them had met. In the wake of his mother's disappearance, Adrien had come to the church almost every day, praying for answers. The Friar had been a comfort during a time when his father was unreachable and no one seemed to understand. A month after they'd met, he'd given Adrien the Miraculous. Even now, after almost a year of Chat abusing its power, Friar Peter didn't seem to regret it.
"You know who she is, don't you?" Chat's arms crossed more tightly over his chest. "Who she really is."
They'd had this conversation before. They would probably have it many times again.
"You wouldn't want to know, Adrien." Even when he was in his Miraculous form, the Friar called him by his real name. "It would change everything too quickly, too soon."
Chat finally pushed off the wall, heaving a sigh and dropping some coins into the donation box. Friar Peter glanced at him suspiciously, and Chat lifted his chin slightly. "Earned those myself."
As he made his way toward the door, the Friar spoke up again. "Something is coming, Chat. I can sense it."
Chat's stomach twisted at the words. He knew what Friar Peter meant, even if he didn't say it. Whatever was coming, he expected Chat to fight. He expected him to protect Nottingham, like Ladybug did.
He wasn't Ladybug. He never would be.
"What is it?" Chat didn't turn around, simply pausing in the doorway.
"I'm not sure." The Friar's voice was unreadable. "But whatever it is, I believe it will bring Nottingham to its knees."