Remnant of Creation
Marinette let out a small hiss.
"Sorry," Cat said, pulling the damp cloth away from one of the cuts on her back. "Did I—"
"It's fine."
Even if it did sting, the wounds had to be cleaned before new bandages could be put on. They both knew this. That was why she sat with her back to him, hair pulled forward, and conscious of the air shivering against her bare skin. It was like losing a protective shell. Not that he'd done anything to make her feel uncomfortable. He kept a respectful distance behind her and had been so gentle when he'd removed the bandages.
Water sloshed as he rinsed the cloth in the bowl beside him. The silky trickling was soothing to her ears, and her shoulders soon lowered into a more relaxed posture. He dabbed at her wounds with the cloth, careful not to press too hard.
"Cat?" she said softly.
"Mm?"
"What do you think Mayura will do now?"
He paused. "I don't know. Father sent one of his champions to speak with her after I told him what happened, but …"
"What?"
"I don't think he's expecting her to back down. I don't think he even wants her to. The talk is probably a token gesture at best. She tried to ruin his plans. He won't tolerate that."
And Mayura wouldn't tolerate letting him succeed either. Her own sister was the one trapped in the tree, yet she was still determined to stop him from freeing Carmine if that meant he couldn't have any hope in reviving Emilie.
Marinette brought her knees up to her chest, wincing as the motion tugged on her cuts. "I guess I knew that would be the case," she murmured.
He touched her shoulder—tentative at first, as if afraid to let his palm rest against her bare skin, but then pressed down more reassuringly. "I won't let her get close to you again. We'll be prepared for her this time."
She closed her eyes. "I know."
But then Mayura wasn't the only one she had to worry about.
oOo
It was much later, when she and Cat were snuggling in bed and everything was hushed and sleepy, that she dared to broach the topic that had been troubling her. He had not said much about his father's role in this mess. They could not keep tiptoeing around the subject. She needed to know where he stood.
"Can I ask you something," she said, tracing the collar of his robe with her fingertip.
"Of course."
"What do you think … about your father's plan?"
"You mean the one where he forces you to help him revive my mother?"
She nodded, biting her lip.
He sighed and rolled onto his back. "I don't know. Mother died when I was four, but I still remember how kind she was. How warm. I loved her, and I never doubted that she loved me …"
She touched his arm, understanding through his unspoken words that he could not say the same for his father.
"I've missed her every day that she's been gone," he said softly, "but bringing her back from the dead, especially like this?" He shook his head. "It's not right."
"Then you won't be upset if I don't help him?"
He rolled back to face her. "I've never expected or wanted that from you. You must know that."
She lowered her gaze. "I didn't want to presume."
After all, he wore Emilie's ring on a chain around his neck. He had spoken of her with such love—never mind the lonely, confined life that he had led after her death. It would not have been surprising had he wanted to bring her back.
"A part of me will always be sad that she's gone, but I … I think the dead should stay dead." His hands found her cheeks, guiding her into meeting his eyes. "And I could never risk your life to bring hers back."
It was like a weight eased off her shoulders. She nestled closer, content to lie there with her arms around him. No matter what happened now, at least she knew that he would be on her side.
oOo
The tree welcomed her with its pulsing beat. Her back still ached—an odd thing since this was a dream—but at least she did not have to pass through the dark passage. She stood in the inner chamber. The cocoon sat on its dais, glowing and throbbing like a giant heart. It was creepy. Marinette resisted the urge to rub her arms to chase away the prickles that crept down her skin.
"Carmine!"
The goddess emerged just like before, smoky trails hardening into translucent stained glass. "Now that is a name I have not heard in a long time," she said with her slit-like smile.
"I know why you're stuck in here."
Her glassy eyes were hard to read. "Oh?"
"Hawkmoth is trying to do the same. He wants to bring the dead back to life."
"Yes, I figured as much."
Marinette gritted her teeth. "And you didn't think that an important thing to mention last time?"
"Not really, no. I have no intention of helping him, so what difference does it make?" She moved closer. "If you want my advice, just keep healing the tree. Let the fool think he is winning. I will take care of him once I'm free."
It was something Carmine had said before: to let her deal with Hawkmoth, to not worry. She even sounded sincere about wanting to get rid of him, but something still felt off. It was in the fine hairs that stirred on the back of Marinette's neck, the lump of unease that got stuck in her throat. Never mind that this was the goddess who had brought Mayura back to life.
"I don't trust you," Marinette said simply.
"Child, we are both remnants of creation."
"You keep saying that as if I should know what it means."
Carmine laughed, all honey and silk. "It's right there in the words. I am the goddess of creation, but in a way so are you."
"What?" Marinette's heart thudded, her eyes wide. "B-but that's just … I'm just …"
"It is an odd thing considering you are human, but then when I was imprisoned and the magic shattered, I guess this is how it chose to find balance: one a goddess, one a human, but both remnants of creation."
Marinette stared down at her trembling hands. Was that why she had picked up the castle's magic so quickly? Why she could create life that did not wither and die when no one else could?
"Keep healing the tree," Carmine urged. "That is your role. Your destiny."
"But—"
"You will understand everything then."
"Wait, no—"
But Carmine had faded back into smoke, and Marinette was left alone with the pulsing cocoon.