1: Bones in the Desert
Kwami were there when it all started. Long before Marinette and Adrien. The kwami and their humans, everyone keeps secrets. But secrets slip out, they always do.
Notes: I don't consider the violence here to be "graphic", but it may be unsettling. Please forgive me my typos. I'm rusty and out of practice, so it is NOT my best work. I only just found this series, and binged the first season in an afternoon. I like it, clearly, but I think the most interesting characters aren't the heroes but the kwami. But I needed to get this out of my head and pushed to the world so I could focus on other projects that absolutely need to be worked on right now.
Adrien raised his hand, the color of bronze, to shield his eyes as he look back the way they'd come. The cloud of dust was getting closer. He swore bitterly, brushing the dark hair from his forehead. They hadn't gone far enough, not by half, and the only hope he had was that the mounts of those behind them would bog down in the sand and buy them time to get to the river.
He looked the beautiful young woman who was already going down the other side of the dune. He knew she was, how could he not, but he'd never really seen it. Unlike nearly every other man in the village he had not lusted after her. Well... not that much. He did have a pulse, after all, and he was pretty sure she could bring a mummy back from the dead. But it was her mind and her heart he'd really noticed.
That was why they were running. Her parents had promised her to the pharaoh's tax collector rather than see her be taken into slavery. She didn't want to marry the much older man. It had been very simple to break her from where she'd been held, and then start running. It was a day to the Nile. It might kill them, but she'd be free.
The only thing that hadn't gone as well in reality as it had in his head was that she'd seemed surprised and even a little disappointed that he had come for her. She'd been planning on escaping on her own in a little bit. That was very much like her, though. Best of all, he hadn't had to show his secret identity. If this went really well, he wouldn't have to, and his secret would be a secret.
For a little while.
They ran. He was tired. They ran more. The sun was hot. They ran. And the cloud of dust was closer. They were being driven to death, the poor beasts, but the chariots had been slowed as she'd hoped. That was where it had gotten weird. He'd broken her out, but hadn't had a plan after that. Of course she had a plan, she always had a plan, just like his true love.
His true love was one of the people's heroes. Just like he was. He'd never told his closest friends- he didn't know who she really was, and it didn't matter. And he hadn't told his father, the tax collector.
They ran. They could see the trees along the river now. They could hear the horses. She stopped, eyes going wide. Her hair was shorter than fashionable, but for a baker's daughter it made sense. It was so black it gleamed with blue shadows, just like his love's did.
The horses were very close. "RUN!" He tried to make it a scream, but he was breathing to hard, it came out a rattling rasp.
She didn't. Instead she grabbed him, pulling him down and rolling with him as a mace whistled through the spot his head had just occupied. They could hear the chariot coming around. He looked up at her, realization dawning. But as with the first light of any new day, it wasn't bright enough to see clearly, misty. She didn't freeze, she threw him down the dune, and followed with a cry that he could only barely hear- it sounded like 'Tikki!'. What did that mean?
He landed at the bottom with a sick thud. He gasped, then he felt a pair of familiar hands on his face, and a very familiar, acid tongued voice. His friend. He looked towards her in concern, but the little white feline had other ideas, roaring like a pocket sized lion. "She knows, kid! Now say it! Or you'll die!"
He'd spent years keeping this secret from her. From their friends. From his father. "Plagg- claws out!"
Hunger, thirst, soreness, they were gone in a flash of light. He felt the kwami shift, swirling around him, encasing him in flowing white robes worthy of a priest but without the gold and gems.
And he was more awake than ever. His lady friend, the girl he'd called Princess a thousand time, she was gone. The lithe, powerful form of the Moon Cat's partner had replaced her, the Red Scarab. She smirked, the smile lifting the red and black khol around her blue eyes into a second smile. "So... that's where you've been running of to all these years."
"Oh we are having such a talk." He looked at his best friend, his partner in heroism, the woman he'd loved for years. He reached out, finding his staff where it was whenever he transformed. Plagg had refused to tell him where it went when he was the Cat, said he wasn't ready for that kind of magic.
The chariot was about to roll over him. Ladybug made a simple 'after you' gesture with his hand. With a grin, he twirled away. The tip of his staff jabbed at the spoked wheel, slamming against the frame of the chariot, then shattering the axle. He had been expecting it and rode the other end of his staff into the air as forces involved spilled the charioteer and the pharaoh's tax collector.
Ladybug closed fast. She'd actually like the rather primitive looking charioteer and bodyguard. A mute, he'd been kind as possible when he was directed to perform his master's bidding, even it was to scourge man. She'd never known what threat was hung over the big ape, and she'd never have another time to ask. A sharp kick to the jaw ended their part of the disagreement.
Cat hadn't been actively aware of it, even though he'd seen the red moving on the edge of his vision. At the top of the arc, he'd left his staff, twisting in air to land on his feet and atop the tax collector. He hissed loudly. "She isn't yours, Father!"
-LBCN-
Adrien Argest sat up in bed, drenched in sweat. He was so thirsty, he felt like he'd been on a force run through the desert for hours. He grabbed at the water bottle on his nightstand, chugging it dry in seconds, even trying to force his tongue into it for the last few drops. He'd get more, but first he had to catch his breath.
"Wow. Weird dream."
"Mrngggg..." The little black cat shape on the other pillow raised his head. "I'm sleeping here."
"Sorry Plagg. Nightmare." Without thinking Adrien reached down, scritching between his kwami's ears. "It was in Egypt."
"Ah. No cheese. Wasn't much of a dream."
"Oh, come on. You've been in Egypt. What was it like?"
"Boring. No cheese. Too much sun. Sand in my fur. Bed time." The blackness stretched, trying to curl up to sleep again.
"You were there."
"Hmmhmmm... couple times." The fingers on his ears were helping Plagg get back to sleep.
"No, in my dream. Weird thing was... you were white."
Plagg sat up. No, he didn't sit. He had been flat and then he was instantly upright. And not sitting. "What did just you say?"
"You were white." Adrien's eyes were wide. Plagg grumpy, he'd seen that. Sleepy. Hungry. Even angry, nose to nose and screaming at him. But this looked like fear. "What does that mean?"
"I used to be white. A long time ago. Egypt, most of africa, much of asia, that's the color of death. Not black." Plagg's eyes were wide. How the hell did he see that?
"Plagg... what's wrong? Is there something I need to know about?" Adrien had a sinking feeling.
"Nothing. It's just been a long time." The black cat settled back down onto the pillow. He felt very old very suddenly. He'd been there when the universe had fit in a thimble- that loud noise wasn't his fault, that was Vixx and Wayzz's fault, they'd been showing off in front of Nooroo and Ms Prettyfeathers. He'd been talking with Tikki, he'd wanted to say something really important. Then the others tipped over that thing and there was this really big bang... "Stay out of my head, kid. It isn't a happy place."
Adriene was quietly stroking his friend. They'd never quite settled who was the sidekick of whom. Plagg absolutely refused to be considered a magic charm. The blond knew that his black suit was actually Plagg; he'd found that out the first time he'd passed gas suited up. One of them couldn't handle cheese. Plagg was oddly quiet for a very long time before looking up. "You weren't you, in that dream, were you?"
"No. And Ladybug was there, but she wasn't herself."
"No, she was. She's always been what she is, but she'd had a lot of good humans. Was it the baker's daughter?"
"Yeah, why?" Just saying that made him think of one of his best friends. Other than Plagg he only had three. He was friendly with a lot of people, but he didn't really have a chance to know any of them. Ok, maybe Chloe, but he'd have to stretch the truth.
Plagg purred. "She was a really good Ladybug. One of the best."
"Was I that Cat? Is it reincarnation?"
"What? No, you guys die, you're done. Some of the Cats have had dreams about the past, other Cats. It's not a big deal. You aren't them, weren't them. They aren't you. You need to be you. You're Chat Noir." Plagg looked down, sheepishly. He'd tried to tell his boy that months ago, but Adrien had just wanted to suit up and be a hero. He'd done pretty well for someone who wouldn't listen and was a little late in caring about history.
"The other Cats- they died. With you."
There was a sigh. Plagg had this conversation with every Cat. Most of them freaked out a bit afterwards. "Usually. When the time comes, I'm going to take as much of it as I can for you, but enough pain and even I break." The little figure seemed slightly smaller.
"But you won't die."
"No. I can't die like you can." There was a sigh, almost a sob, but Adrien couldn't believe that such a noise could come from Plagg. "I can get hurt." His voice was tiny and hollow. "We can get hurt a lot... Don't, don't think about it. If the time ever comes, I won't let you suffer, I'll make sure it's quick. Now go to sleep- you've got school in the morning."
Adrien picked up his companion. Plagg had said something like that before. All the way to the grave. At the time, the young man hadn't thought anything about it until now. Adrien had a bad feeling that he'd woken up before he could die in his dream. Or before he'd killed his... father? He couldn't ask Plagg that. Some things he didn't want to know. Plagg wasn't normally one for being touched other than some petting but the little kwami let himself be held. That told Adrien everything he needed to know.
One, the conversation was over.
Two, it was great to be Chat Noir, but not all the time. Sometimes it sucked. Like right now.
And now he knew that being a kwami sucked even more. Maybe not more on daily basis, but certainly for longer. He wanted to know how much hurt his friend had seen, even if he couldn't take it away. Maybe that was why the cat was grumpy and bitter and snarky all the time. Maybe it wasn't the physical pain. Maybe it was millennium after millennium of losing his humans.
Adrien looked at the clock. It would be daylight soon. Maybe he'd sleep a little, but Plagg needed it more. He held the little spirit in his arms, the kwami mewling in his sleep.
Notes: Yes, white is the color of mourning in most of east Asia, and in must of the world. It seems the greeks were the first ones to think up black as the color of death, and the northern Europeans made it stick. So if Plagg really is entropy personified, most of history would have seen him as a white cat.