The Artist

Cat Noir offered an irrevocable grin that flooded Ladybug with dread. "You're dating the artist?"

Offended: "What is wrong with artists?" she huffed.

"Nothing," he replied. With a twinkle he glanced towards the sculptor a few yards away and added: "In general."

It just so happened that she had to come across the other half of the king's guard at this event. Polar opposites in personality and station, Cat Noir and Ladybug were leaders of their respective guards of the king and the peace. Under Ladybug the tiny army was disciplined, structured, and efficient; under Cat Noir the other half was fast acting, impulsive, and individual. The two units made up a fearsome miniature garrison that was, even now, hidden in the crowd of dancing nobles as seamlessly as their antagonistic generals were.

Ladybug folded her arms in an unladylike posture while glaring at him. "Did you come all this way just to harass me?"

"Not only that, I just wanted to congratulate you on your demotion."

She blinked. "Demotion?" she echoed, wide eyed.

Cat Noir appreciated her surprised expression. It made her eyes bluer and her skin blanch a little. It was short lived, because he had to issue a witty response, and soon she'd frown and flush from anger again. And so he said, "Of course: courting someone who has friends for bards when you could have had a knight in arms."

"I'm willing to ignore that you're being classist," she said with the predicted gesture.

"You're going to ignore that I offered myself to you as well?"

"I've told you very clearly before, Cat Noir, you and I are partners in the common cause of defending our nation. Not in marriage."

"If that's your only objection…" Cat Noir began to purr, but he was stopped by the sound of boots that treaded too close to them. So it was the sculptor, decked out handsomely, eyeing the energy between Cat Noir and his lady suspiciously. It was a curt nod he offered the general and a loving greeting to his other half.

Ladybug just so happened to glance over his shoulder and witness Cat Noir's jesting revolted expression. He's such a child! She ignored him until he tapped her darling's shoulder. "May I have the honor of asking your beloved for a dance?" he said politely (and brazenly.)

Theo was obviously hesitant. "If Ladybug has no qualms neither do I."

Ladybug opened her mouth to reject (and rather loudly indeed given her expression of outrage) but Cat Noir acted swiftly. He took her gloved hands in his. "What did I tell you? Your beloved is an understanding man!" And he whisked her into the sea of dancing gowns.

"You're incorrigible!" Ladybug hissed.

"And you are a lovely dancer."

"This had best not be some rouse with the ultimate goal of getting between me and Theo!"

"Oh, rest assured, I have complete confidence that I won't have to do something that sneaky."

She deadpanned: "You're not above it."

"I am a steady practitioner in low blows," he admitted. "But this isn't the occasion for it. I know you'll fall madly in love with me eventually."

She scoffed: it was a high haughty sound. The confidence in her voice, as always, riled him. "You'll have a long wait!"

"Ladybug, you're leading."

The artist from afar regarded the pair. He had a glass of something in his hand and drank it until it was nothing. He noticed that Ladybug was leading—she tended to do that. He usually went along with it—but Cat Noir's reaction was different and their dance transformed into one where each shouldered the burden of leading and following. Judging by Ladybug's expression it might as well have been a well-choreographed battle.

From afar the two suited one another. But in the realm of romance the artist felt secure. If he stood the chance of losing Ladybug to anyone, it would be to Ladybug herself. She wasn't raised like a fine woman, she was raised like a fine fighter. And with that she stood on her own set of beliefs and attitudes that were unaffected by anyone else's. She seemed whole and complete, and he always felt like an equal around her.

Alas, Cat Noir who cultivated similar thoughts responded to her in ways the artist never could. He didn't have their dynamism. It was a strange defeat he felt.

Their bickering settled for the moment. Ladybug grew vigilant in the silence. When Cat Noir next spoke, she realized he'd been thinking. "Tell me what the real issue is, Ladybug."

"What?"

"Why are you really with him?"

"You're really stubborn aren't you. Why can't you accept the fact that I'm in love with someone else?"

"I would if that were true; I've seen girls in love, Ladybug, and you look nothing like them."

"If you're talking about the girls who fawn over you then they're a totally different species."

"You know what I mean, Bug-a-Boo."

"Don't call me that!"

They stopped dancing and her brilliant red gown whispered against the ground. They were still in a kinetic forest of dark embroidered vests and plumes of shimmering petticoats. Cat Noir sustained a firm grip on her. She said at last, "How many men are going to look at a woman in hulking armor and think that she's a good catch when she swings a broadsword better than them? I'm getting no younger and the king will be issuing us estates. I don't have any intention on living in a stone, drafty manor by myself."

Cat Noir stared at her wide-eyed. "Have you been ignoring me these past years? How many times have I confessed my love for you?"

Ladybug gave a dismissing smile. "Cat Noir, you're a flirt. Everything that you've ever told me you've told to a thousand other pretty girls."

"But they never had my respect. They never had my honesty. I'm in love with you, Ladybug."

And the intensity frightened her, because he seemed very, very genuine. His heart was on his sleeve, he almost smelled desperate and disillusioned. But Ladybug answered: "How would you have expected me to understand that?"

"I've told you!"

But it was all jokes! It was all in good humor! "It doesn't matter now anyway," she broke away from him and dashed across the dance floor. If she'd run to the garden he'd have chased but she regained her composure too quickly and was soon standing beside her future husband. Cat Noir escaped to a dark corner to brood, relieving one of his men from their post.

A court jester appeared and began his antics; Cat Noir drew his blade in a silent threat. The jester mimed a retreat.

A friend summoned himself shortly thereafter and slapped his hand in the back of the general's left shoulder. Cat Noir was irritated until he recognized Nino. "Don't ask," he muttered.

"Don't need to. Anyone could've seen you got jilted from a mile away."

At last, Cat Noir laughed at the tragic comedy of it all.