Full Summary: AU!Victorian Era. She knew nothing about her parents. Right after she was born, a terrible fire engulfed her home and she lost everything. Everyone thought she was cursed, bringing forth God's wrath upon her family. Meet Marinette Bourgeois, an adopted child who was raised in isolation. During the day, she was a polite, reserved young lady, but at night, she was a graceful dancer going by the name "Ladybug". However, that's not all, Miraculous was not just a dance troupe, it was a pack of elite spies working underground to uncover the identity of a secret organization threatening to bring ruin to France.

Rated: T (Warning: Major Character Deaths)

Beta-ed by the lovely varee.


Prologue


This was not what he wanted. He never asked for the deaths of the Dupain family. He could never…!

"No… No!" His knees gave away as he watched bright hot flames engulf the mansion.

Maids, butlers, chefs – servants of the households – were crying, holding each other on the grounds surrounding the building. Many got out unscathed. Some had minor burns and had soot covering their clothes and face. The others were less fortunate – they got out with flames covering their body and were rolling on the ground in pain. Women were running around, doing their best to help as many of the wounded as possible.

No matter how much the men tried to quench the fire with water and flame-retardants, nothing seemed to stop the fire from spreading.

He was kneeling on the ground and someone tugged on his clothes. His butler, maybe, yelling something, but he could not hear. His brain had already stopped functioning ever since he got out of the carriage.

"No! Let me go!" A butler, a few feet ahead of him, yelled at another servant who seemed to be restraining him. His face was covered in blood and soot. "His and Her Grace are still in the master bedroom! Her Grace had just gone into labor an hour ago. You have to sav—"

Suddenly, there was a loud crack and someone screamed for everyone to back away from the mansion. The right wing was starting to collapse.

Dust and smoke flew all around him and he coughed and covered his eyes. People were screaming. He felt hands going under his shoulders, pulling him up and away from the wreckage.

"My Lord, please! We have to get away! It's too dangerous!"

"No, Rowen. Stop! Unhand me, right now!" He struggled against his butler's grip. "The Dupains – they're still in there!"

His butler ignored the orders and continued to drag him to their carriage. Still struggling effortlessly, he twisted his head to look at the burning mansion and at that moment, he saw a window on the fifth floor shatter as someone jumped through, their arms wrapped protectively around a small lump. He let out a gasp as he watched the man turned his body mid-air and landed on the ground on his back. He did not move again.

Kicking the shin of his butler, he broke free of his grasp and ran towards the man.

It was Tom Dupain, his archrival. And in his arms was a baby. A daughter, crying and shrieking. Alive, unlike her father.

A purplish-black butterfly fluttered before him and landed on the baby's forehead. All of a sudden, terror overcame him as he recalled the letter he received earlier during the day; it had a purplish-black butterfly printed on it. Swatting the bug away from the child, he took her into his arms.

He vowed to keep her safe.