Marinette swore under her breath as the candle flickered again, causing her to lose her thread. She had been sewing for two hours, but the skirts were finally almost done. That only left the bodices, the sleeves, the trim, the embellishments, and three masks.

And only four more days to do it all.

She held the needle up to the light and tried to thread it, but the dark purple thread was too difficult to see. She glanced at the candle and realized that it was nearly gone, sitting in a pool of its own wax in the holder. She carefully set the needle down in her box - it wouldn't do her any good to step on it by accident - and picking up the guttering candle, she slipped out the door and down the stairs to the kitchen in search of a fresh one. If she worked hard, she'd be able to finish the sleeves and bodice of the first dress tonight and still get a few hours of sleep.

At least Sabrina had chosen a simple dress, she thought - an overskirt and bodice of purple with aqua trimming. It didn't in the slightest compliment her coloring, but it wasn't Marinette's place to mention it, especially since Sabrina had particularly chosen a dress because of the simplicity of it. Whatever Marinette had to say against her stepfamily, there was very little she had against Sabrina, and she had tried to show it with a grateful smile.

Chloé, on the other hand, had chosen an overwhelmingly opulent gown regardless of the work it would take. Marinette had taken one look at it and almost groaned out loud. It was long and layered, with several yards worth of lace to be sewn on at various points, and with a difficult neckline and waist. Chloé had also insisted that her gown be made of gold cloth, something that was both flashy and thin, so each layer was actually two layers stitched together. With the lace, rosettes, and beading, Marinette was sure that her stepsister's peacock plumage would certainly catch some eyes. Just probably not the eyes she hoped for.

Because Chloé had somehow come to the conclusion that the festival was being held for the prince to meet eligible young ladies, and Chloé clearly considered herself eminently eligible. Marinette had decided not to reply to this conversation snippet with Alya's assumption that the festival was rather intended to celebrate the prince's engagement.

Marinette reached the dark kitchen and searched for a replacement candle. When she found it, she quickly lit it and carried it back up to the tower room. She was already yawning, but the chiming of the grandfather clock in the hall told her it was still only a quarter to eleven. She could most likely still work for almost three hours and still get enough sleep before the morning chores. She'd finish the bodice and sleeves quickly, and perhaps she'd spend some time working on her own project - the secret project that she only allowed herself a sliver of hope for.

She slipped back into her room and shut the door quietly - not that there was any need. The other bedrooms were completely on the other side of the house and down two flights of stairs, but it was better to be cautious.

She set the candle on the dresser and reached into her box for the needle and thread, pulling the last two pieces of the purple skirt toward her with the other hand. She hummed softly to herself as she began sewing again, and she didn't hear anything else.

That is, until a loud thump and a sound of pain echoed from outside. Marinette froze, her humming stopping abruptly, then quickly rose to her feet and held the needle in front of her like a weapon. Then she hid the candle to shield its light and silently stepped toward the window, wondering who on earth was out there. She stood against the wall next to it and held her breath as she heard a rustling from outside, realizing that whoever it was was climbing the ivy below her. She couldn't think what kind of burglar would be trying to get into the tower instead of breaking in through a window on the ground floor-

Suddenly, a crazy idea came into her head. Hardly daring to hope that she was right, she carefully raised herself onto tiptoe and peeked over the windowsill. She saw nothing but a moving figure in black with blond hair, his black cloak blowing out behind him slightly in the wind, but it was enough. She called out softly over the windowsill

"Chat Noir? Is that you?"

He looked up, and Marinette recognized him instantly. She stuck her head out of the window.

"What are you doing here?" she said softly. He grinned at her.

"Oh, just climbing up walls for the fun of it. And ensuring that the wicked stepmother hadn't deprived you of all human company. May I come in? I guess I could stay here on the wall all night, but it's actually rather difficult."

His face held such a look of overblown sarcasm that Marinette laughed and nodded.

"Do you want any help?"

"No thank you, Princess. I'm quite alright. Just takes a little bit of skill to get up to you - but what kind of knight protector would I be if I couldn't do even this?"

Marinette continued laughing as she pulled her head in and uncovered the candle again, filling the room with more light. In a few moments, a gloved hand reached over the sill and Chat Noir's face appeared.

"Good evening, Princess."

She swept him a mock curtsy as she said

"Good evening, kind sir. And what a lovely evening it is, in fact."

He grinned at her as he pulled himself onto the sill, his legs still dangling out of the window as he sat there and said

"Certainly a lovely night for a visit. May I enter?"

Marinette nodded and began to gather the fabrics scattered around the floor as he swung his legs up and into the room. Then he bent down and picked up a swatch of fabric.

"What's all this?"

Marinette took it out of his hands and set it with the rest of the fabrics in a dresser drawer. Then she reached for the nearly-finished skirt and began to sew it once more.

"My stepsisters wanted new gowns for the festival, and my stepmother wanted to save money. This was the compromise."

Chat Noir looked at the skirt in her lap, at the gold skirt draped across the chair, then back at her.

"Well, I was going to ask if you had gotten in trouble for sneaking out the other night, but I guess this answers my question. You have to do all this?"

Marinette's laugh was forced, but still there.

"Actually… This is more like recreation for me. I don't mind sewing at all. And to answer your question… yeah, I guess I did get in trouble, but it's not a big deal. Seriously. It's okay."

Chat Noir looked at her funny, but didn't push the question, instead asking

"How long have you been working at this? What, did they decide on the dresses the day the festival was announced?"

"I wish. I only got the fabric today. This is all I've been able to do since this afternoon, so I still have to do some work on the bodices tonight."

He stared at the skirt she was finishing, and the other on the chair, then back at her with astonishment. She smiled at him, then cocked her head and looked at him with a quizzical expression.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to see you again, but… what are you doing here? Why did you come back?"

"I told you," he said, leaning back against the windowsill, "I came to make sure you were alright. I try to do what I can to make sure everyone in the kingdom is happy and safe. And since you were clearly not liked by your stepmother, I wanted to make sure everything was still safe. I'm sorry about the extra work, and I wish I could help."

Marinette's smile of gratitude made his breath catch.

"Thanks, Chat, but this is really a one-person job. Not to mention that if there's any mistakes, Lila will have my head. So probably best to let me do it."

Chat nodded and watched her as she set her needles back into the box and pulled a roll of purple fabric out of a drawer, measuring and marking it with care on the floor. He was silent as she pulled a small set of scissors from the box and began to cut with precision, her back to him so that the light from the candle would show the fabric best. When she had finally finished, he decided to initiate conversation again.

"Princess, if you don't mind my asking, why do you stay here if you don't like it?"

From her sudden stiffening, he realized he'd struck a nerve he hadn't intended to, and he quickly added

"You don't have to say anything, honest! I'm just a bit curious, but it's your business."

Marinette's eyes were haunted as she turned back to him and sat down a few feet away, her back against her bed frame. He sat down on her floor, just out of arm's reach from her work.

"It's… a long story. But I have a good reason."

Chat let the subject drop, changing it to another one that had been bothering him.

"Sorry, Princess. If you don't want to talk about it, why don't you tell me exactly who that guy from the bridge was the other night? All I got out of you then was that he was a jerk who couldn't take no for an answer…"

Marinette's expression lifted just slightly - a fact that made Chat Noir very concerned. If attempted assault was a less heavy topic than her home life, there must be something very bad going on in this house. But it wasn't something he could force out of her, and he wouldn't want to put her through it.

"Nathaniel? He's an old acquaintance of mine. He and I are about the same age, so when we were younger we sometimes played together. Nathaniel's such a quiet guy most of the time, but sometimes he just gets obsessive over things - like his art. A few years ago, he decided that one of the old trees a couple of miles away was the perfect thing to create his masterpiece, and so every day, rain or shine, he would tote his supplies up the hill and just sit there. I swear, he didn't actually do any painting most days, he just would stare at that tree! I guess he set his sight on me recently - I noticed that he was always so attentive when we'd meet, but we didn't see each other too often and I assumed he'd get over it. Apparently I underestimated him. And I don't think he was entirely sober the other night. Thank you again, by the way."

Chat Noir didn't blame her for her sad tone. He decided to steer the conversation away from that topic, too, and into something slightly safer and less emotionally charged.

"You said you're about the same age. How old are you, anyway?"

She gave him a look of mock offence.

"My good sir, haven't you ever heard that it's rude to ask a lady's age?"

He grinned right back at her, eyes twinkling.

"I'm just a stray kitty, where would I have learned that?"

Marinette laughed again, re-threading the needle as she did so.

"Stray kitty, my foot. I know what low-class sounds like, and you're not it. If you want my opinion, you're at least upper-middle class."

He saw his opportunity and seized it.

"How about this, Princess? One fact each - you can either ask me or I'll tell you something, and vice versa. Seem fair?"

She looked at him hard for a moment, not angrily but rather searchingly, as if she was weighing her options, then nodded.

"But we have the choice to answer or not. And for heaven's sake, don't tell me anything about who you really are. I mean, what would happen if I accidentally let it slip that a wealthy merchant's son - or whoever you are - goes around every night wearing a mask. Why do you do it, anyway?"

He smiled at her.

"Is that your first question?"

"No! And besides, didn't you ask me one first?"

"True. If you're willing to indulge a rude cat, I'd be interested to hear."

Marinette set the fabric down and turned to face him head on.

"How old am I? I'm eighteen."

He smirked.

"Are you telling me that a lovely young woman like you, clearly ready for love, doesn't have any suitors at all?"

Marinette returned the smirk as she flicked a cast-off scrap of thread at him.

"Only one question per turn, Kitty. But for your information, I am currently without gentleman callers - except for the ones who climb up to my window, apparently. How about you? You'll have to answer two for me, too."

"More than happy to oblige."

"Alright. I want the answers to those two questions from you."

Chat Noir gulped. This would easily be dangerous territory, but didn't this mean that Marinette was at least interested in whether he was taken?

Ah, well. Bite the bullet and equivocate, just like always.

"I've just turned nineteen. And currently I'm free as a bird - there are those who would try to catch me, of course, but I'm afraid their dreams will have to be dashed."

Purrfect.

"My turn again, Princess. What… is your favorite color?"

"Pink." she said instantly. Chat Noir looked at her pink corset and white blouse and nodded. He'd been around enough leaders of fashion to know that the colors might have been chosen specifically to set off her blue eyes and dark hair. She picked up the fabric on her lap and continued sewing it.

"My turn again, and remember, you don't have to answer.

She paused for a moment and considered the question in her mind, then nodded and looked him dead in the eyes.

"How long have you been Chat Noir?"

He considered the safety of answering the question, and decided that it was safe enough.

"About four years now, but only two people know that Chat Noir even exists. I've tried to stay in the shadows as much as possible for safety's sake. The only other person who knows about Chat Noir is the one who helped me to become him."

Marinette's eyes danced.

"See, now I feel special. Here I thought you announced yourself to every girl you meet."

"I generally don't announce myself at all if I don't have to. Even the law enforcement who've decided I'm a public menace don't know my name, just the fact that a black-clad figure occasionally beats them to their jobs rescuing charming princesses."

Her laugh was slightly forced this time, and he remembered a question that had been irking him all evening.

"Why do you dislike it when I call you Princess?"

Marinette looked up at him in surprise.

"I… I don't dislike it, exactly, I guess I just think it's a little bit inappropriate. Considering me, that is. I mean, I'm not exactly princess material."

Something stirred inside him.

"I don't think that's true. There's no mold to what a princess should or shouldn't be, right? So who's to say you wouldn't make a great princess?"

Marinette blushed and stammered

"I… I really don't think so. I mean, I... drop and break things all the time, I regularly trip over flat surfaces - I'd make a terrible princess. Not to mention, princesses are supposed to be breath-takingly gorgeous, so that's right out for me."

He leaned over the fabric draped across her lap and put a finger on his chin, considering.

"I think you check that box quite well, Princess."

He expected her to blush and stammer a little more - which he found oddly attractive - but she just rolled her eyes and continued sewing, saying easily

"Yeah, right. I don't know what the standard of beauty is for princesses - I've never met one - but I know I'm not it. What about you? Do you know any? You seem to be well versed in their ways."

Once again he knew that an answer would take him into dangerous territory, but that to refuse to answer it would be tantamount to a confession. Instead, he answered easily

"I've seen a few, yes. But I do live fairly close to the palace."

"I suppose so." she said noncommittally, giving him a strange look. He wasn't sure she completely believed him - and didn't know which way her disbelief tilted - but she didn't press the subject.

"It's your turn." she said instead, pushing the needle into the fabric again. Chat Noir nodded, thinking about his next question.

"Alright. How about this - what's the story behind the rosebush?"

"The what?" She looked up at him in surprise, then looked down with a wince as she stabbed herself with the needle. She put her finger in her mouth and looked at him in confusion, then something seemed to click in her head.

"Oh! The rosebush by my parents. It's from a friend I made when I was really young. We haven't seen each other in years, but we were really close when I was little. It's a silly thing, but I like to imagine that someday he'll come back and I'll be able to say 'look, it's the roses you gave me when we were kids, I never forgot about you because I had it.'."

She suddenly looked up and gave a nervous laugh, shaking her head and seeming to chastise herself for her rambling before saying

"I guess that sounds pretty childish, doesn't it?"

Chat Noir smiled understandingly.

"Not at all. I have the same sort of thing myself. A little token from my first love, you might say. Besides, it's not a bad thing to remain a little childish sometimes. It helps to bring back the magic. And in your case, I'd say you're entitled to a little bit of magic in your life whenever you can find it."

Her grateful smile made his heart beat faster. He didn't want to leave, he didn't want to be anywhere but near her. He hadn't had this kind of companionship in over ten years. Even though their acquaintance was new, there wasn't a bit of awkwardness between them. Even while running around in his guise of Chat Noir, he was never this content.

"Thanks. But I do okay as it is. I mean, I've got the support of an old friend, and apparently now I'm being visited by a vigilante? Or are you a spy? I don't think you're an assassin, but I suppose anything's possible."

Despite being seated on the floor, he swept her a grand bow as best he could.

"None of the above, sweet princess. I am, in fact, a guardian. I take it upon myself to help the people of the kingdom and make the world a better place for those who live in it. And whether that means chasing down a thief or bringing comfort to a damsel in distress, Chat Noir is more than up to the task!"

Marinette laughed again, looking down at her sewing once more. She hadn't even known this man for a week, but for some reason he had gained her trust in the three hours they had spent in each other's company. She couldn't place what he had done to make her so comfortable in his presence, but for some reason her anxiety had melted away. She felt safe for the first time in years. She felt the kind of warmth she only got from Tikki - and yet it wasn't quite the same.

The two of them sat and talked together for several more minutes about harmless topics until Marinette had finished the purple bodice and begun to put her things away. Chat Noir watched her as they kept talking, and smiled at the thought that this girl had somehow managed to make her way into his heart within the course of three days. He reached into the bag at his side and pulled out the small, precious parcel he had brought with him. He quickly and silently set it on the bed as her back was turned, then spoke up.

"I won't keep you up any longer, Princess. Beauty sleep, after all..."

She just laughed right back at him and rolled her eyes.

"And I suppose I'm supposed to take that as a complement?"

He took a dashing pose against the window and said with a gleam in his eyes

"But what would you say if I told you that you didn't need it? Farewell, Princess."

And without another word, he slipped out the window and began to climb down the tower wall. Marinette quickly stuck her head out to watch him climb down, but pulled it in as he reached the bottom. She laughed a little to herself as she imagined his reaction to her watching him. She turned back to the bed and stopped as she noticed a small roll of white cloth that certainly wasn't hers sitting on the quilt. She glanced back out the window as she unrolled it, then pulled her hand back quickly with a tiny gasp.

A red rose sat in the white cloth, and Marinette's first thought was of his question about her rosebush. Was this why he had asked? Perhaps that evening had been more important to him than she thought - she had assumed that he had simply been taking care of a girl who didn't seem to be able to take care of herself, but this had to mean something more - didn't it?

Grabbing the rose carefully, she leaned out the window once more, but the night was conspicuously devoid of black-clad protectors. She looked once more at the rose in her hand, as dark in the moonlight as the one on her bush had been. She wondered if this was why he had visited her. Her mind raced as she tried to think what everything might mean, and suddenly she realized that an almost complete stranger had climbed up to her bedroom window in the middle of the night to see for himself that she was safe and happy, leaving a flower behind him - and she had no idea what to make of it.

Despite her confusion, she set the rose back in the cloth and wrapped it up again, carefully setting it in the top drawer of her dresser with a smile. She glanced out at the clear night sky and hoped that whoever he was, wherever he was from, this friend of hers might see her again.

Hello, my lovely reader! At last, at last we begin to reach the real connection between our favorite characters. This is by far my favorite chapter to date - but there are some wonderful times ahead as well. I'm on vacation for the next two weeks, so I might be posting a couple more chapters during the interlude - no promises. If nothing else, I'll be sticking to my schedule of one chapter per week. For future reference, this will be the norm until we reach a point in the story where I feel like you need more than that at a time - events happening concurrently, etc. But when that happens, you will be informed!

As always, I love your feedback - a review will make my day, but just knowing that you're reading my story is enough. Thank you all for your support!