Ô Toison

by Rose Thorne

Disclaimer: Don't own Miraculous Ladybug or make any money writing fanfiction.

Marinette had heard the statistics. She wasn't unaware that her pigtails were easy handholds. She'd just been naïve enough to think it wouldn't happen to her.

And yet, here she was, snagged by the pigtail by an akuma for use as a human shield, just when she'd been looking for a hiding place to transform. Chat had shown up just as she tried to dodge around the akuma with the rest of her classmates, and he had snagged her.

"Give me your miraculous, or the girl gets it!"

She wanted to sigh at the cliché, but she had no idea what power this akuma had or what would happen if she did "get it." And if she, and the earrings, were out of commission, there would be no way to purify the akuma.

Really, there was only one choice.

Chat was frozen, uncertain in a way he rarely saw from him. She caught his attention with a hand signal. She put the fingers of one hand in the scissors symbol and the other as claws, giving him permission. She saw the moment he understood and offered a grin.

"Mister Akuma, please don't hurt me," she begged, faking hysterics and wriggling in a way that would distract him.

"You little— Stop moving around!"

Chat Noir was a black blur, and she felt the pressure of the slice as her hair pulled slightly, and then she was free, rolling away. She wasn't surprised to be scooped up by Chat, who used his baton to get to the rooftops and run along them with her in his arms.

She felt a little pang at the lightness of her head, the loss of her hair, but it was a necessary sacrifice. Those statistics were no joke, and if something like that had happened while she was in the suit it could have been even more disastrous.

"Sorry for the bad haircut, Princess," he said mournfully when they stopped and he set her down. "You had such pretty hair."

His hand ran through the place where her pigtail had been.

"It's okay, Chat," she said. "I told you to do it. It'll grow back."

If she let it, anyway. Maybe she'd just need to have a shorter haircut until Hawkmoth was unmasked and defeated. Even after, she'd need to consider whether longer hair in even a bun might make her an attractive target for perverts or criminals. Her mind was already racing with excuses for her shorter hair as Ladybug.

A loud crash sounded from the distance, and she patted Chat's shoulder.

"You'd better get back to it. I'll get down from here and get to safety."

Chat, ever the gentleman, scooped her up again and alit in an alley.

"No need to climb down, Princess. I'll check in with you later."

Then he was gone.

Fortunately, the alley was empty, and she ducked behind a dumpster before opening her purse. Tikki looked beside herself, upset.

"Oh, Marinette. I'm so sorry!"

Marinette smiled at her kwami, bringing her up to her cheek to give a little nuzzle.

"It's not your fault. Can you give me another pigtail during the transformation? Otherwise Chat might figure it out."

"And Paris as a whole!" Tikki said. "I can do that."

"I'll have to get the rest cut. Ladybug can announce that the attack on Marinette made her aware of the dangers of her own hairstyle."

"You're so strong, Marinette!"

She didn't feel strong—she'd just made a necessary sacrifice. Later she would probably be shaken up about it, but right now the adrenaline was pumping through her system.

"We'll talk about it later, and you can help me pick out a new hairstyle," she promised. "Right now we have an akuma to deal with! Tikki, Spots On!"

The second pigtail felt real, added back the weight of the hair she'd lost. Given that this akuma had used her hair against her, she knew she'd need to be extra careful.

But just for this battle.

I saw statistics lately that predators often consider women's hairstyles when choosing victims, and easy-to-grab styles like pigtails or ponytails are often a factor in that choice.

Uh, so, little fic? I can't promise I'm back in the fandom, but I'm at least recovered from what occurred enough to write this. Fic is not beta read and was written in like half an hour.

The title is part of a French poem by Charles Baudelaire that's kind of an ode to hair.