CHAPTER THREE:

PRE-NUPTIAL ARRANGEMENTS

"Of all days to be missing!" Sabine whimpered in the foyer, trying not to appear distraught as a group of servants hustled past her with an ice swan on a cart.

The bride's mother wore a dress of shimmering purple with golden dragons embroidered along the fabric. It was an ancient style used by her parent's people from the land of Cheng. In addition, a pearl hairpin orbited by a purple flower held her short, midnight-blue hair away from her petite face.

That same face was turning paler with each passing minute her daughter didn't show up. Where IS that girl?

"Maybe she wants to make a grand entrance," her husband Tom suggested. He readjusted his sash, which was the same colour as his wife's hair... and his daughter's. Underneath it, Tom wore a uniform of silvery-grey. Being a baker, he would have preferred white, but that colour was reserved for the bride only.

And speaking of whom, Tom wasn't sure where Marinette was, but he sincerely wished she would pop out before Sabine would have a heart attack.

Well, someone did appear from the empty hallway leading up to accommodations... but it wasn't Marinette.

Alya quickly squeezed her bare foot into her second shoe before sprinting down the hall from her chambers. Her strap-less, sunset-coloured dress clung to her curves and legs, but she was able to move in it quite easily. Two front strands of her hair had been pulled behind her head while the rest fell back in soft waves. Her fox pendant sat at her throat, as usual, and golden earrings dangled from her earlobes.

The sight of her daughter's best friend lifted Sabine's spirits. "Oh, Alya… Please tell me you've found Marinette already," she pleaded.

Alya blinked as she slowed her pace. "What? Oh! Right – yeah! She's in her room. She came in through the window. Sorry, I'm in a bit of a rush, but I'll tell you later. See you in the pavilion!" The redhead took off through the foyer before Marinette's parents could question her further.

Sabine sighed. "Perhaps we should warn Prince Adrien about the hassle of having our daughter as a wife," she grumbled. She hurried down the hall to Marinette's chambers with a stiff posture.

Tom chuckled as he followed her, his mustache tickling his nose. "Oh, don't worry, honey," he called. "I'm sure the boy knows exactly what he's getting himself into."

Needless to say, Marinette's mother lost her ability to stay mad at her daughter once she noted the reason behind her untimely absence.

After Marinette finished explaining, she held the dagger out to her father. "Papa, could you hold onto this for me until the ceremony's over?" she asked. "I don't want Trixx playing around with it if we put it in the gift pile."

Tom smiled and accepted it. "I'll guard it with my life, my little macaroon," he said before kissing her forehead. "I must say, though, I'm surprised you've decided to give it to Adrien, considering how it's only been passed down through our family."

Marinette shrugged with a sly smile. "Well, it is mine by right of birth," she noted, "so I can do whatever I want with it."

The moment she spoke the first part of that sentence, Sabine's silvery eyes turned as dull as stone, and she glanced nervously at her husband. Tom's eyes saddened as he looked at Sabine.

Marinette couldn't tell what silent words they were exchanging. It was enough to make her concerned. "Mama, Papa, is everything okay?" she asked. "If the dagger's too much, I can –"

"No, no!" Tom said much-too-instantly, shaking his head. "It's fine, Marinette. Perfect, even. Of course you can give this to Adrien. I can think of no one better to wield it, other than you."

Sabine nodded, straining a smile. "We just... We still can't believe our little girl is getting married," she said before swallowing and dabbing at her eyes. "It seems like only yesterday when you were sitting on the floor in the bakery, playing princesses and dragons with your dolls... and making the princesses ride the dragons."

Marinette giggled. Even as a child, she was an unusual lady; dreaming of adventure and danger. If she could go back in time and see that little girl again, Marinette would warn her that adventures were not to be taken lightly.

She couldn't shake the feeling that her parents were still acting weird, but she figured it was just the sadness and excitement of the wedding.

Marinette pecked her mother on the cheek. "I may not be a little girl anymore," she said, feeling her own tears coming, "but I will always be your daughter."

The waterworks finally came, and the family embraced as one.

"All right now – enough of this nonsense," Sabine scolded playfully as she regained her composure. "You, young lady, have a wedding to attend. Where are those maids? Where is Nathalie?"

As if she had been waiting for the right moment, the royal steward entered the chamber... carrying a little, black box.

The sight of it almost made Marinette laugh. Her first adventure had started with a little, black box.

"I hope I'm not intruding on anything," Nathalie said as she walked forward, "but the prince asked me to give you this to wear for the wedding."

Marinette's heart leapt and she took the box in her hands. She had barely taken a breath before she opened it.

But then she and her mother inhaled deeply at the sight of the glistening, blue-and-pink, peacock brooch.

"It's beautiful!" Marinette breathed.

"It matches your hair," Tom said. "Now you have your "something blue" for the wedding."

"And "something borrowed"," Nathalie added with a smile. "For you see, Queen Emilie wore that on her wedding day."

Marinette thought she was going to faint, and a watery feeling cascaded down her spine. "She... I... This... This belonged to Adrien's mother?" she murmured softly.

Sabine placed a hand on her heart. "Oh, my... and that darling boy gave it to you. How thoughtful."

Marinette was going to cry again, but she ended up giggling instead. "Nathalie, I can't possibly..." she began.

The steward shook her sharp head briskly. "I'm afraid the prince was very explicit. Besides, it's only for the wedding. You can return it afterward if you wish." Her light-blue eyes gleamed. "However, I doubt Adrien will want you to stop wearing it."

Marinette was laughing now, as were her parents.

I'm going to owe you for this one, Kitty, the bride thought mischievously.

The room was silenced when a small trumpet blared from outside.

Nathalie sprang to attention. "Oh, gracious... Is that the time? Ladies, get in here – on the double!" she shouted over her shoulder. Then, she spun back to Tom and Sabine. "We must head down to the pavilion at once. Mr. Tom, I'll need you to stand over by..."

The steward trailed on as she led Marinette's father out of the room by the arm.

Sabine quickly took this last chance to give her daughter a big hug and a kiss.

"I'll see you downstairs," Marinette said as her serving maids poured in, carrying a large bundle with them: her wedding dress.

Sabine nodded proudly. "We'll be waiting... my little princess," she said before hastening after her husband.

Marinette was happy that her mother didn't look back, otherwise the young blunette herself would have started crying.

But now was not the time for sad tears or solemn goodbyes.

It was a time for happy tears, and happy beginnings.

Not far from the pavilion, where the grand stables stood, the Queen of Thieves' plan was just beginning as well.

She led her twenty camels past a group of grazing elephants, all of them owned by the wealthy rulers and nobles who had traveled to Agreste for the wedding. There was enough straw and water to keep them content, so there was no need for stable hands.

The Queen of Thieves was glad. The last thing she wanted was a small boy snooping around, and that wouldn't have ended very well.

Glancing once more over her shoulder, the blue-hooded woman herded her camels into one of the larger stable stalls. They all seemed happier now that they were finally getting some shade.

The Queen dropped the reins she held and went up to the edge of the open doorway. Peeking around the corner, she saw the grand pavilion not far away.

Behind her, from within the stalls, the Queen heard the sound of a woven basket being ripped apart.

She didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Only one person she knew would ever defy her orders.

A hard hand gripped her shoulder, forcing the Queen of Thieves to look at her unruly companion.

A normal person would have thought they were staring into the icy eyes of Death himself.

But those eyes belonged only to an older, mortal man. He wore a purple tunic with matching pants and hard leathers, but it was his face that drew the most attention. A mask of stretchy silver covered it from scalp to chin, making his sharp cheekbones stand out. It was made to look like a skull. Complete with the eyes of frozen water, the whole look chilled civilians to the bone.

But not the Queen of Thieves. The whole look only irritated her.

The man – Hawkmoth, he called himself – seemed more irritated than the Queen was. He released his hold on her to sheath his long, thin sword into its scabbard, which looked like an ordinary cane to the human eye.

"My queen," Hawkmoth spoke lowly, his deep voice making the camels jittery.

She snorted and brushed his hand off. She knew Hawkmoth only called her that because it was required of him by the Code: she was the Queen of Thieves, nothing else, and all of her "subjects" were to address her as such. Hawkmoth, however, never once spoke the title with respect or compassion as the others did.

The Queen never expected anything less from a dark, terrible man whose heart was as black and scorched as pitch; a man who had every reason to believe he deserved to be the true ruler of thieves.

"I thought perhaps you would allow me to walk along with you in the open," Hawkmoth murmured begrudgingly, "rather than let me suffocate like an animal."

The Queen glanced at the basket her companion had broken out of... or rather, what was left of it. She clicked her tongue. "My dear Hawkmoth," she said, glad her veil was hiding the smirk she was giving him, "someone has to keep a cool head."

The silver-faced man made a noise that sounded like a threatened jaguar, but he kept his expression firm and blank. "Someone will have no head if this is another wild, goose chase... my queen," he added with a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

She bore her blue eyes – calmer and deeper than his – into Hawkmoth, indicating that his idle threat did not bother her one bit. "If our friend returns with good news, this heist will be worth far more than you can imagine."

At that moment, the Queen heard a soft, "Psst!" from above.

She looked up to see a thin figure wearing a dark-purple cloak leaping off the top of the stables.

The figure landed in a crouch, her long, black hair streaming all the way down to the ground. When she stood, the Queen only saw the half of her pale face that wasn't concealed. The look in that single copper eye said everything the Queen wanted to hear.

"Juleka… You found it?"

The girl nodded stiffly. "But there's a slight problem," she whispered. "The bride has it on her person."

Hawkmoth hummed, his mouth drawing up into a sneer. "Perhaps we can send the lucky prince our own wedding present... through her." He spoke that last part ominously as he inched his sword out a bit.

The Queen of Thieves immediately had that hand by the wrist, pulling it back with pinching strength.

Hawkmoth grunted in retaliation.

"You know the Code, Hawkmoth," the Queen hissed, her eyes narrowing at him. "We will get the Miraculous, but we do so my way." She gave the man another hard squeeze to prove that she meant business.

Hawkmoth growled as he snatched his hand back. His stare was cold even when his face softened. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

The Queen sighed through her nose and looked back to the pavilion.

This wasn't going to be as easy as she had hoped, but when was anything ever easy?

A more terrible thought pressed against her consciousness. What if I'm wrong? What if this is just another wild, goose chase?

No, the Queen told herself adamantly. The Miraculous is the real thing. This time, I'm sure.

Trixx smiled at her reflection in the miniature sceptre she held, making sure all of her fangs were nice and pearly.

She licked her paw and smoothed a piece of fur on her head that was sticking out. There – much better.

The vain vixen didn't appear startled when a tiny, green character came whooshing in to hover beside her.

"Hurry up, Trixx," Wayzz the turtle kwami said, nudging her gently on the shoulder. "The ceremony is starting, and we have good spots."

Trixx smiled at him. "I can see fine from back here," she claimed before returning her attention to her reflection.

Wayzz, however, didn't take the hint. "Alya is waiting for you," the miniature turtle stated with a cool tone, "and you are not showing any respect for Adrien and Marinette either." His green-and-yellow eyes lifted with intrigue. "Unless... you just don't want the others to see your sentimental side."

Trixx stopped grinning and cast her friend a small frown. "Look, there's only one thing I get "sentimental" about at weddings." She sighed as she snuggled deeper into her spot on a jeweled, metal box. "And I'm sitting on it."

Once again, Wayzz didn't take the hint. He blinked at Trixx before glancing around her curiously. "A... box?" he asked.

That made Trixx groan. "The loot, Turtle Boy – the loot!"

Luckily for Wayzz, a shrill whistle from the pavilion made him turn tail – or, turn shell, in his case – and race back inside.

Trixx breathed more easily now, and she returned to her self-admiration.

Alya tried not to blush when Nino stared at her with a soft smile.

"You look awesome," the captain of the guard said as they stood together just offside the head of the aisle.

Damn. She blushed. "And you look ruggedly respectable," she commended in return, "for a dork."

Nino flashed a toothy grin at her.

"Alya! Nino!" came a tiny voice.

The couple reeled as Tikki practically zoomed into their faces.

The kwami was carrying a small cloth and a tiny, white flower in her little hands, and she looked absolutely frantic. "Bad news," Tikki whimpered. "The boutonnieres clash with the cummerbunds!"

Alya noticed several people in the crowd staring at the scene confusedly... and impatiently. Sabine peered at them from the first row with inquisitive eyes, while Tom waved all the way from the back to see if everything was all right. Alya gave them both a reassuring smile.

Nino, thankfully, was the one brave enough to talk. "Tikki, isn't it a little late for that?" he growled between his clenched teeth.

Tikki frowned at him, cocking her head. "What?" she asked annoyingly. "What are you trying to say? Out with it! What –?!"

Plagg, thank Astruc for him, grabbed Tikki and turned her to face the silent crowd.

Tikki gasped, her pupils shrinking. "They're all here?" she squeaked like a frightened mouse.

"Every single one," Plagg sang. Then, he gave a shrill whistle.

Wayzz immediately appeared beside them. "Is it time?" he asked breathlessly.

Tikki shook herself free of fright, put on a brave face, and tossed her items away. "Plagg, Wayzz – positions!" she ordered like an army general.

The two male kwamis saluted and raced to the top of the altar while Tikki flew straight up to the pavilion's dome. There, she waited.

Plagg and Wayzz came to a halt and sprang to attention. Then, they both drew a kazoo out of thin air. As one, they took a deep breath before blowing:

vvvvvvVVVVVVV! vvvvvvVVVVVV! vvvvVVVvvvVVVvvvVVVVVVVVVV!

Everyone in the pavilion – rich and poor, royals and paupers, adults and children – turned their eyes to the kwamis and their strange, musical devices.

Once that was done, Tikki swooped in from the ceiling and rained down a sparkling shower of pink stars, scattering then throughout the entire chamber.

Many people beamed and gasped with awe that the sight.

When the stars fell on the tri-stand of candles, they all flared to life one by one. More praise sounded from the crowd.

Then, a large fixture of green light appeared at the top of the aisle.

It was there for a brief moment, and then it faded... revealing the hunched but humble form of Master Fu.

The Great Guardian stood in his ceremonial, silver robes, smiling respectfully at the astonished guests. Despite his old age, he looked as giddy and fit as a man in his late fifties.

Tikki, Plagg, Wayzz all sped back down to hover beside Alya and Nino.

At that moment, the doors at the other end of the aisle creaked open, and all eyes turned to see the first part of the procession.

It was the three bridesmaids, each one wearing matching red dresses and veils.

Alya hid her slyness behind her smile, patting her pendant.

The girls dug their hands into their little baskets and sprinkled pink, rose petals onto the aisle as they walked, smiling sweetly at the onlookers.

Tikki was trying very hard not to scoff at them. Plagg, however, made his distaste quite obvious.

The next to come down the aisle was a young page. He lifted a large banner bearing the sigil and colours of King Gabriel's noble house: a silver mosaic upon a field of amethyst-purple.

Alya took Nino's hand in hers, and he gave it a soft, excited squeeze.

They both smiled as the King of Agreste himself emerged through the threshold.