Author stuff: Sooooooo, I completely forgot to go over a few things because my brain was mush when I posted the first two chapters. This fic takes place in a medieval village called Ville sur les Rochers (roughly translates to "Village on the Rocks"). For some reason I can't remember, I needed this fic to take place outside of Paris.

I kind of get into it in this chapter, but Rochers wasn't originally a bastide. It was a village near a cliffside that moved to surround the bastide some time in the 13th century (if I'm remembering my notes right). Bastides have a grid-like pattern, which made it easier to collect taxes.

Also, they're very pretty to look at and are beautiful tourist destinations now. Sarlat-la-Canéda and Domme were the two biggest inspirations for Rochers.

This is one of the few fics I've ever written where I had a full outline completely play out how I saw it in my mind. Most things I write kind of go haywire after some time, but this? This stayed so true to the outline it's… it's incredible.

Edit: Updated the word "sheriff" for the correct "vicomte," which was used during the historical time period for a man who served as sheriff in a town.

Summary: Robin Hood AU. (Sort of.) After her father is arrested for harboring and aiding the wanted criminal Chat Noir, Marinette must seek him out or lose her father to a crime he did not commit.

Noblesse Oblige

by forgottenyogurtgods

Chapitre trois

The Forest Is A Horrible Meeting Place

Marinette had never felt like this before – uncomfortable, uncertain. Standing before her was the "great vigilante", the great thief, Chat Noir. His Green Men – who actually were wearing various shades of green and brown – slowly emerged out of the forest. She counted ten of them, eleven with Chat Noir.

She was surrounded. She was… helpless.

Her eyes darted about, looking for an escape route. There were quite a few, surprisingly. They didn't seem to want to trap her, make her feel like a caged animal. They just wanted to keep her in their sights. But she couldn't help but feel the anxiousness bubbling up, settling in her throat and between her shoulder blades.

She turned her attention back to Chat Noir. His once mischievous gaze had turned soft, as if reading her mind. She still couldn't help but back away – and she ended up bumping into one of the Green Men.

He reached his arms out to her. She elbowed him in the stomach. He was sent sprawling on the ground, he struggled to gather his breath.

Another came up behind her, trying to grab her arms. He managed to take hold of one arm. She whirled in his direction, fist aimed for his face. Her knuckles caught his hard cheekbone, making her skin sting and her hand and arm tingle afterwards.

A third wrapped his arms around her, holding her back to his chest. She tried kicking back at him and thrashing about, but it didn't work. So, she tried the next best thing she could think of – relax her knees, shifting them to drop forwards.

The man seemed startled enough by that. She was able to flip him off her back.

Something struck her ankles, tripping her. She squawked, and she fell to the ground. Her knee landed painfully on a rock. She bit back as hiss as she turned to glare at whoever had sent her sprawling on the ground.

Chat Noir straightened himself up, pulling a staff she hadn't seen before close to his body.

"Forgive me, little lady," he said, speaking in a quiet voice. He held out a gloved hand to her. He seemed sincere, by the way his eyes glittered in the light – strange, hypnotic gems set into an attractively masqueraded face. "I can't have someone send all my my friends to the healer. Especially not when said someone is in dire need of their help."

"Who said I needed your help?" she said, swatting away his hand and trying to stand up herself. Her legs were too tangled in her skirts. She ended up tripping on them.

Chat Noir offered her his hand once again. Reluctantly, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. His hand, under the firm leather, was warm. He released his steadying grip on her as soon as she was balanced on her feet.

"Please," he said, "allow us to return you safely to your mother. She's starting to worry."

She was about to protest, but the Green Men were already retrieving her cart. It didn't take them long, no more than five minutes. While they worked, Chat Noir moved her to the side of the road so she wouldn't be in their way.

"I must a-paw-logise for my rude introduction," he said. His voice warmer and kinder than it had been, even more so than it had been a moment before. "I am Chat Noir – but you probably already knew that – and these fine men are my friends."

"Some people call them forest spirits in Rochers," she said, watching them and slowly moving from his side. He was much too close for her comfort. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.

He hummed, thinking over the name for a moment. He tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"Not quite sure if I like that. They're not pretty enough to be forest spirits."

She snorted at that. He called them his friends and then he insults them? Well, she did the same with Alya.

"And you, damoiselle? What do they call you? Surely a princess as lovely as yourself has a beautiful name to suit her."

She felt the heat in her cheeks rise. She had never had to deal with men like him outside the Sanglier Bleu. She averted her eyes, staring down at her feet. Her shoes looked awfully dirty compared to his – something she found an oddity for someone who lived in the forest.

"Marinette," she said quietly.

"Damoiselle?"

"I'm called Marinette."

"Oi," one of his men said, waving at them. The man looked amused. "We got it out."

"Wonderful," Chat Noir said. "Damoiselle Marinette, this way, if you please."

He held out his hand, gesturing for her to lead. She moved to go take the cart back from them, but one of his men stopped her.

"Please, damoiselle," he said, a bit shyly, "allow us. This cart is awfully heavy for someone to take all of that way. Especially a lady such as yourself."

"You really don't have to –"

"It would be our honor, damoiselle."

They all looked at her, sincerity in their eyes, and she found herself reminded of the children in the village. She had always wondered what happened to those who mysteriously disappeared. Perhaps they joined Chat Noir? It was possible, she supposed. They always did have a call for adventures.

"Thank you," she said, offering them a smile.

"And that is the only payment we need for helping you," Chat Noir said, gently resting his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, confused, but he didn't give an explanation. "Alright then, to Ville sur les Rochers."

Chat Noir and his men were an… amusing group. They teased one another mercilessly, and none of it was malicious. And they were all trying to one-up one another by making her laugh the hardest.

Chat Noir was winning – mostly due to his reactions to everyone else's teasing.

"And here we are, damoiselle," one the men said. "This is as far as we go."

"Too close and the vicomte might catch us," said another.

"Thank you," she said, mostly to the Green Men. They had done most of the hard work, after all.

"Hopefully the next time we meet," Chat Noir said, "you won't need our assistance because you're stuck in a paw-ful situation. Fur-well, Princess."

He and the Green Men bowed to her before disappearing into the shadows of the forest. They left no trace of them having been there. No leaf was disturbed, no twig was broken. They had been as noisy and tangible as shadows.

Marinette started towards the gate, pulling the cart behind her. It was heavy, but not as heavy as they made it seem.

Alya greeted her when she entered the walls of the bastide, a knowing smirk on her face.

"What?" Marinette said, flatly.

"I didn't say anything," Alya said, almost singsong-y.

"No, but you look rather bushy tailed."

"And I'd have to respond that I'm not the cat with the bushy tail."

Marinette's eyes widened, and she looked about. Had any of the vicomte's men seen her? None of them seemed to be watching her, but still…

"Don't worry," Alya said. "No one but me and the tailor's wife saw anything."

"Will she –"

"Say anything to the vicomte? No. Tikki is trustworthy. Besides, she knows Chat Noir. He's helped her and her husband on more than one occasion."

"Really?"

"Mm-hm. Have I ever lied to you?"

"Well…"

"Don't answer that."

Marinette giggled.

"He was nicer than I expected," she said.

"And what were you expecting?"

"Someone like the men who visit the Sanglier Bleu."

"He's in a league of his own," Alya said, rolling her eyes. "What'd you have to give him in order for him to help you?"

"Huh?"

"He always requires some form of payment. For me, it was the bracelet you made me. It's a pity, too, because that went with everything."

"I was wondering where that went!"

"What'd he want from you?"

"Oh, um… A smile," she said slowly, timidly.

"A smile?"

She nodded, ducking her head down just slightly. Alya snorted.

"That would be what he'd want from you." Marinette shot her a curious glance but Alya shook her head. Another thing she wasn't willing to explain. "Anyway, you missed the big announcement."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, in honor of Duke Félix Agreste's return to Rochers, the mayor is holding a tournament."

"That'll be fun," she said. "But it means Maman and I will be making more bread than normal, not to mention some sweets…"

"And there'll be dancing."

"And by the time the dances start, I'll already be in bed."

Alya winced. That's how it had always been. Marinette was always getting ready for bed as the sun was setting. It was part of the baker's life.

"Maybe we'll get a break," Marinette said, a little bit of hope tinged her voice. "Maybe the mayor will give us a couple of days off?"

"Maybe. And who knows, maybe everything with your father will be sorted out by then."

It took two days for Marinette to realize that she should have asked Chat Noir for his help. Cursing her luck, she tried to come up with a plan to meet him again. Her best bet, thus far, was to wander aimlessly through the forests.

It… It wasn't her best plan.

It was a plan, the only one that made any sense or seemed possible. Even doable.

Her first initial plan was to try to meet him on the road between the miller's and Rochers. It had been five days and there was no sign of him or the Green Men.

Finding him was proving to be much more difficult than she had originally thought. So, she had to come up with another plan – the supposedly better plan that still wasn't that great, wander through the woods until she found what she was looking for.

Getting out of her house wasn't easy. There was very little time in the day to do so. She was always helping with the boulangerie now when the sun was up, and most nights she was so exhausted that she fell straight to sleep the minute after she lied down.

Finally, on a market day, she was given reprieve. Her mother closed the boulangerie for the day so that they could spend it at the market. She and her mother parted ways – they loved one another but they hadn't had time to themselves in quite a while, it was necessary for their relationship – and Marinette headed to the main gate that divided the bastide from the village that had sprung up after it had been founded.

On her way out, she ran into the tailor – Plagg Beaumont. He was a slender man with cat-like yellow-green eyes and dark hair cropped short near his head. She stuttered out an apology and tried to continue on when he grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Be careful, damoiselle," he said. "Dark forests aren't the place for young ladies. It would be best to continue down the path you've been traveling down."

He released her and continued on, leaving her to watch him as he walked away.

She shrugged. Perhaps she dodged something when her parents couldn't pay for her apprenticeship with him all those years ago.

Plagg Beaumont had always been a strange creature lurking about the village. He'd married a lovely woman, Tikki, and the two of them had moved to Rochers some time after she was born. She never really interacted with either of them until, one day, Tikki had commented on a dress Marinette had made for herself. An apprenticeship had been offered, but things didn't work out. Apprenticeships cost a good deal.

She still felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of it, but that had been years ago. There was no use dwelling on the past.

Shaking her head, she continued on out of Rochers. Slipping out past the gatehouse to the village was easy enough. While the market was held in the main square, where almost all of the shops are, the majority of the village lived beyond the walls of the bastide. She could easily pretend that she was going out to visit someone else.

Getting to the forests surrounding Rochers proved the difficult part. A massive field encapsulated the road leading in and out of the village. On the other side – with no way out or around – of the bastide was a sheer rock face of a cliff that was near impossible to climb.

She had opted for the route taking her through the field. She just didn't realize how vulnerable she would be. The field – without the tents and vendors and various splendors of tournaments – was nothing more than that, a field of grasses and weeds.

It would be considered odd of her to just up and leave the village on a market day. She really needed a better plan.

Looking about, she spotted an empty basket outside a house. Surely the owner wouldn't mind too much if she were to borrow it. She could simply say that she was going out to gather some herbs or something for her cheeses. Yes, that would do.

"Sorry," she said quietly to the emptiness. Everyone was at the market. No one would realize she was gone until very late.

She smiled and nodded to people on the road coming into Rochers. No one stopped her or asked her any questions. Those that recognized her saw the basket and assumed what she had hoped.

Once she was under the cover of the trees, she left the basket under a bush. She would retrieve it when she came back. Finding Chat Noir shouldn't be too difficult. He had to be in the forest somewhere.

The forests were much larger than she had realized. She wasn't even certain she was near Rochers any more, but she felt as if she had been walking in circles for hours. The sun had started to set, staining the sky with pinks, yellows and oranges. The moon had started to rise, and the blankets of the sky turned black and inky, dotted with glimmering spots of stars.

This really hadn't been her smartest idea.

She wished she had brought her cloak – old and worn, as it was. She crossed her arms in front of her and rubbed them, hoping to draw up some heat.

Marinette stopped short when she saw what lay in front of her – a cliff. It… sort of looked familiar. Like she had been there a long, long time ago. She wasn't far from Old Rochers – where the village had originally been built before it moved to be closer to the bastide. Back when they would imprison British knights for travelling through their kingdom illegally on their way to the Holy Lands.

If she remembered correctly, there were old stairs carved into the cliff face somewhere nearby.

Scouting the ledge in the silver moonlight, she spotted the stairs, crumbling as they were. It might actually be safer climbing down than taking those stairs.

Rolling her shoulders, she started down. If she had been smarter – now that she knew where she was – she would have found the main path leading to Rochers and started home. She had a reason to be out here. She had to do this. She had to get help to save her father.

Slowly, she started down. With the moon only partially through its cycle and hidden behind gathering clouds that promised rain, it was difficult to see. There were several times she almost slipped and fell going from one hand or foot hold that turned into loose rocks and showers of pebbles. It was by the grace of God that she hadn't fallen to her death.

Well, for the most part.

When she had gotten almost all of the way down, she slipped and rolled with the slope at the bottom, landing on her back. She groaned pitifully as she sat up. That had been painful.

And then there was a sound – a clatter of metal on metal. She recognized it was the sound of armor shifting as it was moved on a human. Had the vicomte's men found her?

She had to move. Something told her that being found out here at night wasn't going to help her or her father in the long run. Whether she had been heard or spotted, she didn't want to stick around and find out.

Lady Luck seemed adamant in helping her, though. She landed close to the very edge of the trees – a mere three steps away. Cautiously, she slipped into the underbrush, wary of leaving any sort of trail. She wasn't a hunter by any stretch, but she thought hard about the information Alya had managed to get out of the gamekeeper and share with her.

One of the first things was to stick to durable surfaces – rocks, gravel, dry grasses, and the like. In the minimal lighting, however, she struggled.

She hoped that, in the end, the small glow from the moon would help keep the vicomte's men off her trail. If she could barely find her way, she doubted they could either.

Another thing was to step lightly. She had always had dainty steps, despite her tendency to trip over her own skirts from time to time. For a large portion of her escape, she stuck to staying on her tiptoes. By the time she could walk flat footed, her shins were aching and burning.

Startled by a sound behind her, Marinette looked back. She spotted the flickering lights of torches and lamps. They were a loud bunch, clomping around as they searched for her.

She fought down the panic that settled in her throat, reminding herself of the last thing the gamekeeper had taught Alya – no running. Under no circumstances was she to run. Running made lots of noise in a forest and left an obvious trail. Only the stupid ran, and they were always caught and killed.

Instead, she continued on at the pace she had been going, allowing herself to walk with her whole foot instead of just her toes, though she continued to be cautious. She tripped several times, stubbing her toes more than once, but she never let out anything more than a silent hiss that could be mistaken for the wind.

Eventually, either they turned back or she lost them, for it was quiet except for the night animals and the wind in the branches above her. She felt herself heave a sigh of relief, lungs aching from the short gasps of breath she hadn't realized she had been doing until then. And, eventually, other aches and pains began to settle in.

Her head was swimming, her eyes stung, her legs burned, her feet felt like they had been stabbed with knives, and her left ankle… She wasn't sure if she had hurt it on the slip down the cliff or when she stumbled one too many times.

She prayed that she found the stupid thief and his stupid camp before her body decided to give out, and she was left stranded in the stupid forest.

The wind started to pick up, mirroring the howls of wolves – eerily similar but far too soft to actually be the howls of wolves. She hoped.

Limping through the pain, she eventually found herself at the cliffs of the old prison. It had long since been abandoned. She never put much thought into who they had been or why the prison was left to rot. Then again, she never knew enough about them to really be curious.

But there was something about the place that called to her. Something about… something about the way it smelled.

"Is that smoke?" she said, sniffing. Yes, it was. She would know that smell anywhere.

Cautiously, she took tentative steps around the area, keeping her nose trained to the sky. It smelled like oak – she was fond of oak.

Had she been watching her footing, she would have noticed how close she was to the edge of the prison cliffs. Had she been watching her footing, she wouldn't have slipped.

And she would not have fallen right on the doorstep of Chat Noir's camp.

Author stuff cont'd.: Can I just say thank you? Thank you all so far for all the love and support. It's incredible. I didn't expect such a positive response. Really, thank you!

There was so much research put into this chapter, y'all have no idea. From the layout of the town, to knowing positions within the town, to knowing how to actually sneak around a forest and not get caught, to knowing which herbs to put into cheese when you make it. (The last one didn't make it in, but I still researched it.) And there's so much more that I have all typed up and written down in some notebook somewhere in my room.

I can't wait to give y'all the next chapter. Thursday can't come fast enough. See you then!