A/N: Hello all! I'd like to thank you so much for all your support for this story, it means the world to me :) I love it like Plagg loves his camembert ;D Anyway, I've also begun to post this on AO3, along with On The Prowl. I'm pretty sure I'm going to change OTP around a little bit, just a few minor touches, if the story gets a lot of support on there.

Selfless will be the same on here as on AO3, except that I might post some bonus content on there (wink wink, nudge nudge) ;) It's not definite, just a possibility :)

Remember, this will only happen if it gets successful on there like on here :)


Chapter 8

Marinette couldn't help but give her dining partner wary looks as he slowly but surely ate. He didn't say anything to her at all, just cooked and served her, as usual. His consistent frown was making her own mood plummit.

There was obviously something wrong with him. His coming out to meet her in a cold sweat didn't do anything to deter that idea. Maybe he was sick?

She shouldn't ask, he's only a villain. Who cared if he was depressed? She didn't care how his ears were literally drooping, how he didn't tease her, or smile. She should continue eating her food and then go back to her room without a care in the world.

Too bad her good heart seldom listened to her hardened thoughts.

"Chat Noir? Are you sick or something?" She asked in a small, unsure voice.

There, see? Not outright concern, the question could be taken as her being worried for possible germs and viruses.

For the first time, his head tilted up to meet her gaze. His eyes looked...pained.

However, one corner of his mouth turned up for her. "No, I'm not sick. I just-ah-had a bad dream. That's all."

The blackette shrunk back in her seat. "Do...do you want to talk about it?"

His frown made a reappearance as he shook his head. "No."

His answer caused a shaky, unsure smile to adorn her mouth. Should she be persisting like this? What if he got angry?

"Talking makes you feel better. I would know."

Alya was there for her everytime Marinette was feeling worthless and doubtful about her crush, Adrien. Sometimes she would look in the mirror and wonder what a guy like him could ever possibly want in a girl like her.

He was wealthy. She was just slightly-above average middle class.

He was the smartest boy in class aside from Max. The smartest girl was Sabrina.

He was fluent in Chinese. Despite being half-Chinese herself, she couldn't speak a word of it.

He was a top fencer. She was a top klutz.

He played basketball and piano. She played video games.

Lastly, he was beyond gorgeous. She was just...average. No model wanted an average girlfriend. She hated to admit it, but Chloe was the most beautiful girl in their class when it came to looks. Adrien should've and probably would drool after her once they were older.

Alya would be there to theoretically smack some sense into her. She'd remind her that she was worth far more than she gave herself credit for, and that Adrien would soon be running after her like a lovesick puppy.

Every time Alya would give her a pep talk, it did it's purpose: put some pep back into her and look forward to another day.

So, yes, Marinette would know that talking makes a person feel better.

But Chat Noir only shook his head in refusal again. "I don't want to talk about it. It's not important, anyway."

The young designer stubbornly crossed her arms in front of her chest, completely abandoning her dinner. "It must be important for you to act like this. You didn't even call me 'Princess'!"

She realized her mistake when that Cheshire grin was making a startling return to his features, prompting her mouth to part in panic and her sapphire eyes to widen.

"I didn't know you liked the nickname so much, Princess."

The way he said it in such a deep, purring voice made a coil of heat gather in her stomach and her breath to hitch, but not in fear. She didn't want to even think about any other possible meaning behind it.

Marinette turned away before he could notice the blood rushing to her cheeks. "I don't like it, it's just that it's weird that you haven't called me it since you do it all the time."

"Oh," he simply replied, donning a softer smirk. "I apologize for my mistake, then."

She didn't reply, instead turning back to look at her food and not daring to meet those glittering cat-eyes of his.

"I forgot to ask," he suddenly spoke. "How was your swim?"

At least his mood seemed to lighten. She wouldn't repeatedly ask him about the dream he had, worrying that he'd go right back into depressed-kitten mode.

"It was nice. Honestly, I never thought I'd ever be able to swim in a pool like that."

He cocked his head to the side. "Like what?"

Marinette stared at him in disbelief. Did he really not know how amazing his pool was? How many people fantasize about owning a pool like that?

"It's beautiful!" She exclaimed, throwing out a hand to enunciate her point. "Do you know how many people would kill for a pool like that?"

Chat Noir grinned in amusement. "Not really. But thank you for the compliments, I'm happy you love it so much."

"You're welcome."

She idly wondered how they ended up like this, talking so naturally with each other. In context this behavoir was entirely wrong, and Marinette knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help but feel drawn to talk with him. Was it because of her isolation from the rest of the human population? Because he was the only one she could talk to?

She needed to see that old man by the stream again. He was strange, but hopefully talking to him would snap her out of this.

...

The next day when Marinette told Chat Noir she was going to take a walk, she was a bit surprised when he let her go without any warning to return to the mansion. In fact, he even teased her and suggested she run out of the forest and to the nearest town.

She rolled her eyes at that. First, she'd probably die in the forest. She didn't know much about survival. Second, she'd be breaking their deal and he'd return to terrorizing Paris.

She hated how he dangled her freedom over her head, like a cat toy. Freedom was just within her reach, she could grab it at anytime, but she couldn't.

Taking her backpack with her she ventured once again in the forest, taking the same path she had taken before. This time she brought a small knife with her, to make markings in the trees that she passed along the way.

In no time she found the trickling stream again and removed her flats, lowering her feet into the cool, refreshing water.

There was no way to tell if the old man would be back on this particular afternoon, but even so, it was nice to be out in the fresh air and have some quality alone time. It gave her the time and peace to reflect on her experiences of the mansion and with Chat Noir.

He was still a grand mystery to her. She still had no idea why he wanted her there or why he didn't harm her, or why he's been so kind with her compared to the way he treated everyone else.

She sighed. Was it too much to ask for answers?

"Hello again!"

Marinette flinched at the sudden voice, but smiled when she saw it was the same old man whom she had spoken to during her last time at the stream. The pattern on his shirt was the same, white flowers, but the background color was a dark blue instead of a cherry red.

"Hi!" She replied, just as friendly. "It's nice to see you again."

The old man chuckled and gently eased his way down to sit beside her. "And you, as well, Marinette."

The sound of her name made her blink and a flash of remembrance hit her. They never properly introduced themselves! Obviously he knew her name from the news but she had no idea what his name was. Was that rude? Probably.

"I'm sorry," she began sheepishly. "I just realized we never introduced ourselves. You already know I'm Marinette, what's your name?"

The old man's mustache crinkled up in tune with his mouth. "I am Fu. It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear."

He held out his hand to shake and Marinette took it without hesitation.

"So," she started, leaning back on her palms. "How's the-uh-outside world?"

He hummed while he took off his sandals to sink his feet in the water. "It's been a lot more peaceful in Paris."

A bitter chuckle escaped from her mouth. "It better be."

Fu inclined his head to the side as he looked at her. Although, Marinette had the feeling that he was more likely studying her than just looking at her in casual conversation.

"Speaking of, how is your living arrangement going? Did Chat Noir hurt you yet?"

Her eyebrows furrowed at the question. It was a question anybody might ask her, but it still sparked something within her at hearing it.

"No, he hasn't." She turned away to gaze at the little, enchanting stream. "He actually swore on his Miraculous that he wouldn't hurt me, whatever it is."

Fu's eyes almost seemed to bulge out of his head. "He-?!" He exclaimed loudly, causing Marinette to turn sharply to him in alarm, only to clear his throat and try talking in a lower, normal voice.

"I mean, he swore on his Miraculous? The very thing that grants his powers?"

The blackette raised a curious eyebrow. Why did he have that type of reaction? What was so bad about Chat Noir swearing upon his Miraculous?

"Yes. I don't know what his Miraculous is, but I already knew it grants his powers. He never told anyone what it was."

Fu was staring straight into the distance when he nodded in contemplation. "He's serious," he murmured. "He really won't hurt you."

Somehow, hearing the truth coming from a person that wasn't Chat Noir sent a type of tingly feeling in her stomach. She brushed it off and gazed into the distance of the trees, too.

"And you don't know what his Miraculous is?" He inquired, rubbing a hand along his chin.

She shook her head. "Nope. I have no idea."

All of a sudden he grinned, knowingly and mischievously. "You know, I've heard that it's his ring."

"A ring?" She repeated, frowning. She didn't recall him ever wearing a ring.

"It's not the most noticeable thing, only cameras of the highest quality can capture it. It's black, so it blends in with the rest of his suit, but has a green paw print in the center."

The description didn't ring a bell. She guessed it was just because she wasn't looking for a ring when conversing with him.

"So," she spoke, gathering her thoughts, "that ring gives him his power?"

He nodded with a smirk. "If I'm right and his Miraculous is the ring. And keep in mind, dear, I'm hardly ever wrong."

She nodded. "If it's his ring, then what would happen if it got removed?

"Well," he answered, shrugging his shoulders, "I can only guess it would take his powers away."

Marinette lit up as though she was in her favorite fabrics store. That's it, her ticket out of this mess! If she could take his ring, then all her problems would be over! He'd be powerless against her, against Paris, against the world. He'd never bother anyone ever again.

"I can tell what you're thinking," Fu cut in, halting her eager and victorious thoughts. "Getting that ring is going to be very hard. It will be in no way easy."

Marinette still smiled despite the bitter truth laid out before her. "I know. I'll have to get it when he's really distracted, or sleeping. Fu, if I can get that Miraculous, then all our troubles will be over. I have to try."

His lips thinned into a pensive line. "If you think that's what's best. But be careful."

She bobbed her head excitedly. "I will! I'll get that ring, just watch!"

If she could steal a cell phone, how hard would it be to steal a ring?

...

Marinette didn't think she could ever have better luck.

For there, sitting on the couch in front of the fire, was Chat Noir himself, sleeping like a baby with a book nestled on top of his legs.

When she had returned from her excursion to the stream, she immediately went on the look out for the elusive feline. She honestly didn't really have a plan, maybe trick him to take it off? Or there was always the sleeping option, but she would have to wait until late in the night to try that.

She searched every room until she came upon the private library/study. It was a large enough room, with bookshelves lining the walls. There was a spiral staircase that led to the second floor in order to reach the books near the top of the room, along with a ladder resting against the wall for even more of an assist.

Plush, black furniture was scattered around the room, a carpet lay in front of the grand fireplace. The mantle was made of a gorgeous, dark wood that shined in the light. In the back of the room was a writing desk with papers and pens lying about. A few windows let light in on the bottom floor, with large, black curtains pulled to the side in that perfect way she'd seen on movies.

Marinette tip-toed into the room, all the while eyeing Chat Noir to detect any sign of his waking. There wasn't, so she pressed on, getting closer and closer to him.

His head was lulled to the side, eyes softly pressed closed, and his blond locks were sweeping off along his forehead. His lips were slightly open as he steadily breathed in and out.

His right hand lay on top of the book's page, allowing her to see the ring. Fu had been right in his description of it: black, with a green paw print in the center.

She bit her lip nervously. Could she do this? What if he woke up?

His body didn't change, he still slept soundly as if there wasn't a girl in the room who planned to steal his Miraculous.

Her forget-me-not orbs sparked in determination. This was her only chance and she wasn't going to blow it because of her fear.

The blackette's tongue poked out from her lips in concentration as she lowered her hand to his. She was able to pinch her two fingers on the top of the ring, thankfully it was bulky enough so she could get a good grip on it.

Yet when she tried to slide it off, nothing happened. It wouldn't budge at all.

Frowning, she tugged a bit harder. It still didn't move. Did he have it superglued to his finger or something?!

A small grunt emitted from the back of her throat as she gave it another try, pulling yet accomplishing nothing.

Except waking Chat Noir.

Her breath flew out of her lungs when she suddenly found her wrists being grabbed, and her body brought to the ground. Her eyes widened in terror as the fully-awake villain straddled her, pinning her to the floor and holding her wrists on either side of her head.

Her heart pounded in fright when he smirked.

"Princess, were you trying to steal my ring?"

The girl's mouth opened to give an answer, but all he got in response was air.

"Marinette," he warned sternly, the smirk falling from his lips. "Tell me the truth."

Marinette couldn't meet him in the eyes when she nodded to affirm her answer. Now she had done it, he was going to kill her after what she tried to do. She could only hope whatever he had planned for her would be quick and painless.

He scoldingly shook his head at her. "First you go in my room and snoop through my things, then you try to take my ring. You've been a very bad princess, Marinette."

Her lips curled up above her teeth in a scared grimace. She could feel her heart furiously beating, she honestly wouldn't be surprised if it burst out of her chest.

What was he going to do? What was he going to do?

"You tried to take something from me," he continued, though now the smirk was fully back in place. "And now, I think you should be punished."

She tried to hold back a gasp. Punished? What was his definition of punishment?

"I think it's only right that I take something from you. Maybe then you'll learn your lesson."

Take something from her? Like what? Her life?

His head was only a few inches above hers. She was fully aware of how his green, cat eyes kept piercing into her blue, human ones. Blond strands dangled in the air between them. If she moved her head up a bit, she could touch them.

"So, Princess, do you agree this is a fair punishment?" He asked in a lower and quieter tone. Once again the teasing smirk was gone, replaced by a somber look, matching his voice.

Her heartbeat was still quickened, but she didn't feel much fear anymore. Instead she felt a kind of fire in her veins, ignited by the mystery and danger of the situation.

In the back of her mind, she noted she was never like this. She never liked danger nor was ever intrigued by it, she preferred to run away from perilous situations. Yet his eyes were holding her gaze firmly in place, commanding her to look only at him and she was powerless against the beckoning.

Dazed, she moved her head up and down in agreement.

She was broken out of the trance when he planted his lips on hers.