Strut

by PhantomKat7

After stumbling on the Peacock Miraculous, Nino comes up with a three-step plan to save his sanity: 1) Protect Adrien, 2) Get Duusu to lighten up, and 3) Figure out if Master Fu is really on his side. Yet when Hawkmoth ups the ante and a mysterious figure wants his Miraculous, it turns out that becoming a competent superhero requires more than a book and some fancy footwork.

15. Chapter 15

Ira19: Glad you like the fic so far! Our man Cloak will definitely make more apperances as time goes on.

Chapter notes:

un croquis - (n) a sketch

---

Chapter 15

When they got back in that night, Duusu had presented Nino with the Grimoire. She guided his hand on the frayed edges of where pages had been. There was the faint tingle of magic that raised goosebumps along his arms.

His parents were asleep. Paris was silent outside his window. Nino held his breath as the adrenaline left his body, steadily letting the night's exhaustion catch up with him.

Duusu was somber, her voice pitched low. "I mentioned that Peacocks don't have their own pages. They once did, when they used positive emotions to rid themselves of the emotions from Seeing Eye."

Nino stayed silent, even as questions cluttered in his mind.

"Master Fu and I decided that instead of taking this assistance from others, we should do it from within. Your meditation, in this case." Duusu touched the back of his hand. "Nino, I've always cared about your wellbeing, and these are the steps we had in place for my past Peacocks. Though you use meditation, your wellbeing is still being cared for."

"So why did Cloak say that?"

A smile twitched on Duusu's face at the nickname. "I don't know, but all my Peacocks were able to regulate these emotions through their career as a Wielder with the methods provided."

Nino glanced down at his hands, now free from their magical gloves. "Thanks for telling me."

Duusu nodded and handed him his cellphone. Nino took it, fingers automatically opening up the three-way chat with Marinette and Adrien. Then, with nothing being said, he shut his phone off.

"Nino?" she asked when he pulled up the covers.

In bed and with the night's adventures weighing on his mind and body, he muttered, "Now's not a good time. Night, dude."

He took his glasses off and rolled over, falling asleep in moments.

And just like that it was Tuesday, the date for the conference that Mayor Bourgeois had set up. The mayor's call for war— because, really, that's what it felt like— happened centuries ago, in an era where Nino still guarded his secret and Hawkmoth wasn't straying from his Duck Duck Goose MO of causing trouble.

He was actually going to speak. Nino had insisted, catching Marinette and Adrien before they left school the day before. They trusted him, after all. No longer was he the subject of a side-eye.

Now the morning of, he wanted to slap his past self for being so bold.

Nino dressed with numb fingers. He picked clothes classier than the T-shirt and jeans he usually wore— a button-up shirt and dark-washed jeans— even if the people of Paris wouldn't see them. He wore his new necklace, tucked underneath his shirt collar, right up against a tender, but otherwise-healed neck.

Duusu had given him the cold shoulder when he told her he wasn't going to mention his meet up with Cloak to Ladybug or Chat Noir just yet. It sucked that right after sharing their secrets Nino brought up another, but the whole meeting had left him with an unease that still remained in stomach. Besides, there'd been no fight, and he still had his Miraculous.

This morning, Duusu grumbled a good morning, grabbed her daily pack of sliced carrots, and picked a pocket in his backpack to sulk in.

Nino peeked into the darkness and spotted her among his tablet and discarded pencil shavings. "Come on, if he shows up again, I'll tell them."

She waved him off and took another large bite out of her carrot.

"Suit yourself."

Nino picked at his breakfast and had to endure Nadja Chamack covering the preparations for the conference in front of the hotel. There was the podium and a platform big enough to house them but small enough to make it feel claustrophobic. (Or maybe he'd just grown used to the open rooftops of the city.) On the periphery of the camera, men were setting up rows upon rows of chairs. Nino averted his eyes.

"Did you want to go?" Faziel asked after Nino pushed around the eggs on his plate for the fifth time.

"Me?"

An accusing fork was pointed his way. "Yes, you. You're the one who's gotten the most interested in all the superhero stuff recently."

Nino chewed a piece of bacon for as long as socially acceptable, until he had no other choice but to swallow and answer. "Interested? Me? Why would you say that?"

Faziel pointed at Nadja on screen. She was interviewing Mayor Bourgeois at the podium, a lot less curt than how she had talked to any of the Wielders back at the Jardin des Plantes. "You get in a tizzy whenever she says something bad about the heroes."

Nino mumbled, "Don't say tizzy."

"It's true," Saliha pointed out.

Nino had the distinct feeling he was being ganged up on. All he needed was Duusu throwing him under the bus.

There were still small mercies in the world because Nino's phone rang. He finished off his eggs and ran away with his backpack slung over one shoulder. "Gotta go, Adrien's calling. I'll give you a heads up if I end up going."

Nino didn't pick up until he was going down the apartment stairs. It was actually an Adrien and Marinette three way call. There was a distinct rustle in his backpack that told him Duusu was listening, despite the cold shoulder.

"Sup?" he answered.

"Heeey, Nino," Adrien started and immediately put Nino on his toes. "Did you leave home yet?"

"Heeey, dude," Nino echoed with all the trepidation of an upcoming akuma attack. "Just got through the front door."

Why? the question was left hanging in the air.

He imagined Adrien flapping the question away, awkward goober that he was. Marinette tittered on the other end and said, "We were actually thinking that you should be the one to tell Alya to take down, or put on private, the articles on the Ladyblog that talk about the AVs.

"Me?"

"We thought you would be best since Alya really wants to interview you, and that could be a selling point for having her do that to the blog." Marinette must have sensed the disapproving glare he was boring into his phone screen because she finished off by whispering the last couple of words.

"Hey, I'm glad you guys are together and all, but you guys can't make team decisions with just the two of you. Not cool."

No rebuttal about the state of their relationship. Their guilt was clear even across the distance. Eventually Adrien mumbled into his phone, "You're right. Look, I can do it. She might want to ask me about my injuries and all that."

Nino turned it over in his mind. He stopped by an empty bus stop and took a seat. "No, I can do it. She does want an interview., or rather, she never finished the first one."

There was also the sticking point that he had that heart-to-heart conversation in her bedroom. Nino didn't want her to think that Régalien was still so down about himself when she tried her best to rally up his spirits. As Nino, he couldn't say anything, but Régalien could still assure her that her motivational speeches were the best in all of Paris.

"— because when she gets to school she'll want to— "

"I got it, I got it." Nino didn't know who he cut off, but it didn't matter. Both were joined at the hip by now anyway.

Marinette and Adrien wished him good luck, while Nino prayed he didn't end up revealing his secret along the way. Duusu was on his shoulder now, still surly, but curious.

"Do you think she'll listen to you?" she asked after he'd hung up.

Nino huffed, offended. "I'm her boyfriend. I know how to talk to her."

"You've been Régalien more than boyfriend lately," Duusu pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Well you've been hounding me to practice so much that I don't have time to meet up with her." The bitterness came seeping through, as much as Nino tried to reign it in. He chose to bear the Peacock Miraculous, for as much guilt-tripping Master Fu had done. If there was less time to spend with Alya, he was merely reaping what he'd sowed.

Duusu frowned and became pensive. She hummed a troubled trill that rustled her feathers. "We could… work on that."

If it was a joke, it wasn't a funny one. Still, Nino had to ask, "Like a compromise?"

Duusu nodded sagely. "Relationships are important to keep a Peacock healthy and flourishing."

"I'm not a plant, but sure, dude," Nino smiled and patted Duusu's head. "That would be cool."

He transformed within the cover of the bus stop's roof and walls. Régalien stepped into the morning light, low-key nervous about such an important conversation right after breakfast.

Régalien jumped to the roof of the bus stop and began to trace the usual path he took to school. He reached out for Alya, searching for that pull that, while not as strong as the strings his teammates held, still managed to draw him in.

At the halfway point between Alya's usual route and the school, he cast his magic in a wider net. It made his temples throb with the beginnings of a dizzy spell, but he had to catch her before she reached the school.

Régalien would have counted this a lovely morning, if it wasn't for the draw of civilian chatter whenever they spotted him flitting from one place to another.

"Oh, now he's moving quickly."

"Hope he has something good to say today."

"Good luck! I know it wasn't your fault!"

"I can't believe they're still letting him run around."

Régalien huffed around the tightening of his throat. He did his best to wave whenever a finger was pointed at him, even if the words were less than positive.

Finally, after ten minutes of evading civilians, he saw Alya making her way down a sidewalk, eyes drawn to something on her phone screen. An oasis in a desert, Régalien zeroed in on her. He purposely clicked the heel of his boot to the lamppost when he landed to draw her attention.

When she turned, her shock morphed to joy. "Hey you! Didn't expect to see you this early. Thought you would be too busy preparing for that conference."

Régalien cleared his throat. If his voice squeaked, it was merely to disguise it. "Yeah, about that. Mind if we have a talk? In private?"

Alya glanced from her phone screen to him, worrying her bottom lip. "Sure, I mean, school starts in half an hour, but… yeah, definitely."

Thinking back to the backpack that disappeared with his transformation, Régalien chuckled. "Yeah, I'm aware." He dropped down and glanced for any alleyways, but all the buildings were too close together. Régalien shuffled in place. "Umm, you mind if we're up on the rooftops?"

Alya raised an eyebrow. "Just be careful, bird boy. Also, I have a boyfriend, and he can kick your ass if you try anything."

Her tone was light, which made Régalien chuckle ever harder. Nino Lahiffe, armed with his laptop and his headphones. What a terrifying sight indeed.

With great reverence, Régalien scooped her in her arms, one hand on her right shoulder, one arm holding her under the knees. Using a car hood as a stepping stone, he picked the rooftop of a three-story tax office and jumped. Alya let out a little squeak but otherwise endured the short ride.

When he touched down, he made sure to immediately let her go, hands up and where she could see them.

Alya marveled at the height, then got down to business. "Okay, spill."

Choosing his words carefully, Régalien opened up with, "At the conference, we're going to talk about our latest plan against Hawkmoth. That plan involves making contact with past akuma victims. If anyone knows who we'll be making contact with, it could jeopardize our efforts."

Alya's eyes lit up. "So what do you guys need me to do?"

And here came the hard part.

Taking a deep breath, he plunged in. "Basically, we want to ask you to make private, or temporarily delete, any blogs you have on the Ladyblog about any specific akumas and any details that can lead to their identify. And that would be true for any future akumas."

He already knew Alya made sure not to put any identifying details in her blog, but there were crafty people out there. AVs being singled out was a possibility. Harassed. Bullied to the point of turning back to their akuma forms.

Sure, Hawkmoth didn't need a blog to tell him who these AVs were— as Duusu had pointed out last night— but he still had to wait until they were riled up enough to take over. If they could take that power away from him, then they could work with that.

Alya's expression soured. She glanced down at her shoes, hitting the side of her phone on her palm as she weighed her options. After a moment, Alya shot him a look between the strands of her fiery hair. "That's a tall order you guys have. You know that's basically three quarters of my blog, right?"

The urge to take her hands in his to comfort her was maddening. Régalien ran a hand through his cropped hair as she continued to stare him down. "We know, and we wouldn't ask if there wasn't a possibility someone out there would call out the victims publicly. I'll throw in an interview for your trouble, all topics open that don't lead to my civilian identify."

Alya stopped. She rounded on him, smile almost predatory. "Now that's promising. Sure you can handle it?"

Régalien stepped back, lest she saw something in his masked face that would lead her back to her flaky boyfriend. "You sure you don't want an interview with Ladybug or Chat Noir instead?"

Alya, seemingly satisfied by what she found— or not found— rocked back on her heels. "No offense to them, but they're old news. I want to know more about you. Or," she amended, "the city wants to know more about you."

"Sure, sure," he teased.

"Hey, girlfriend in a committed relationship here. This right here," she waved at the space between them, "is not flirting."

Régalien cringed, and he had the distinct feeling Duusu was tutting in disapproval. He really had to watch his mouth around her. "Sorry," he said.

Alya rolled her eyes and held out her hand. "But deal. One interview in exchange for censoring almost the entirety of my blog."

"By five today."

Alya opened her mouth to protest, then gave a resigned sigh. "Six, but our interview will now be an hour long. With pictures."

Régalien didn't think he'd talk an hour about anything that wasn't about DJing. Still, he returned her hardy handshake with one of his own.

"Maybe you should drop me off at school now so I'm not late." Régalien stammered a response, until Alya poked him in the chest hard enough to shut his mouth. "But I know you have school yourself, so you can't possibly do that. Which is great, because it means three things."

"Do I want to know what these three things are?"

"One," she said, completely ignoring his wary expression, "you're a student, like me. Two, your school is also in the seventh arrondissement because not even you can travel that far and still make it on time. And three, you're not some forty-year-old creeper taking minors up on the roof for a private talk."

Heat consumed his face and neck. There were no words in this realm or the next that he could say that wouldn't make him want to dig a hole and never come out.

Alya hooked her arm in the crook of his elbow and pulled him to the roof's edge. "If I haven't short-circuited you, then hurry up and get me down. I have an Algebra test today, and that teacher will kill me if I don't make it on time."

---

Nino kept a close eye on Kim throughout school. Hawkmoth's string wasn't wrapped around him like before, but there was no jumping for joy, no outward expression that Kim himself knew about it. He simple lived, hanging out with Alix, doing his best on some partner work with Max. At one point, Kim caught Nino staring.

"I like your haircut," Nino had blurted out before heading off in the opposite direction of his next class.

Smooth.

In his last period of the day, Nino tapped his pencil on the edge of his desk. Kim had been, and was, completely normal. Which made sense, seeing as Nino couldn't feel the year-old anger of the Bubbler within him unless he used his powers. Even before he agreed to the Peacock Miraculous, Nino had only felt something was off with him when he got extremely angry or overwhelmed.

There was still the matter of him technically being an AV. Could one be akumatized if they were a Miraculous Wielder? (Duusu had no answer; the Butterfly Miraculous had never been used like this before.)

Maybe he would need Master Fu for this one, as much as he loathed to admit it.

And just like that, school was dismissed. Nino stood in the school's courtyard, momentarily dazed. There were four hours before the conference, which seemed too long and too short of a time. Could he just patrol until then? Eat dinner then patrol? Get there early for a good impression?

When the night to perform at Club République had come along— a century ago, he felt— he'd been too excited to even think of things he could do to pass the time. One minute he'd woken up, and the next it was time to head out.

"Well, I'll get front row seats, of course."

Chloé's voice rang out like a car alarm: intrusive, loud, and positively useless.

In the courtyard, a group of students gathered at the benches and lunch tables. Chloé stood at the center with Sabrina at her side, carrying her backpack and purse. Everyone else had eyes on her more out of necessity than of their own volition. If they didn't sit down and listen, Chloé would find some other time to corner them.

"Of course you are, Chloé. Your dad's hosting it," Alix drawled, as impressed by her as the Algebra homework currently splayed on her lap.

Chloé sniffed. "I just mean that I'll get a closer look at that new hero Régalien. First person to do so."

Alya disguised her amusement with a cough. Adrien and Marinette shared significant looks from where they sat, Marinette bracing him with an arm on his elbow.

"You'll tell us what he's like, right?" Rose asked.

That got everyone's attention, even Juleka's, who marginally lifted her gaze from her phone.

Crap. So even if his classmates didn't tune in, they would get the rundown of how he royally messed up in front of Paris. Absolutely wonderful.

His low-key mental breakdown must have been obvious because Adrien broke away from the future lynch mob and dragged him away as quickly as someone with a cane could. Adrien ignored the cry of, "Adriikins?"

Adrien leaned in and said, "Don't listen to them, you'll do great."

Marinette joined in on the huddle, still helping Adrien along. There was Chloé's shout again, most definitely aimed at the girl who dared touch Adrien Agreste, but Marinette ignored her and said, "If you can survive an akuma battle, you can survive some silly press conference."

They stepped out of the courtyard and onto the school's steps. Nino eyed the rooftops of the surrounding buildings with yearning.

Figuring it would be rude to just up and fly away, Nino faced their expectant stares. "Hey, guys, I'm not sure if I can do this."

Adrien rolled his eyes. "Nonsense. You've said it yourself you've been practicing your part during your lunch today."

Nino playfully shoved him. "I didn't tell you. You saw that. At the park. Like a creep."

Adrien smirked his Chat Noir smirk. "I just dropped by to see if you had any of those sandwiches your mom makes."

Nino chuckled, but he could still feel the throng of students hanging on to Chloé's every word back at the courtyard. Adrien tapped his arm to bring him back to the here and now.

"What about you go home and do some DJing? Get your mind off this?"

How he missed jamming out and creating something new, or even tweaking an old playlist. Nino hadn't touched his music since he first practiced with the Grimoire. It was tempting, but his Miraculous weighed him down. "Should I really be DJing with something this important coming up?"

They were at the bottom of the steps by now. The Agreste limo wasn't waiting on standby for once, and Marinette took the opportunity to sidle closer to Adrien, the support turning into something more intimate. Adrien leaned his head on her shoulder, right in front of Nino and his raised eyebrows.

Marinette snapped him out of his ogling by tapping the brim of his hat.

"Do you really want to be so nervous you pass out on stage?" Nino gaped at the previously unknown possibility. "Kidding, kidding! Look, go home, relax, and meet us at the hangout so we can all go together. I'll text you."

Nino toyed with the brim of his cap. "Sure, okay." No lie. His fingers ached to open up his mix program.

Adrien turned to Marinette, his hair brushing her cheek with the movement. By the time their eyes met, he was grinning like a cat who ate the cream. "Want me to walk you home? Father's not sending his limo today. And I have no Chinese after school today."

Marinette took his offered hand. "Really? Why's that?"

Adrien shrugged. "He just told me to enjoy my time and focus on getting better. Father's been… trying, ever since I got hurt." No one needed an explanation as to what his father was trying at.

Nino thought back to the scene of Gabriel Agreste at Adrien's bedside. If only he'd been closer to try and sense what he'd been feeling.

Marinette mirrored Adrien's shrug. "That's good. Now walk me home like the peasant you're masquerading as today."

Adrien inclined his head. "Of course, princess."

Marinette chuckled at whatever inside joke they were hinting at. She threw Nino a glance. "Try to relax, okay?"

He nodded, still too shocked from the casualness of their relationship to say anything else. When they headed towards the bakery, they seemed just like any other couple, arm in arm, faces a hair's breadth apart.

"Good for them," Duusu piped up from his backpack.

Nino decided to walk home to gather his thoughts. He went straight to his room and opened his laptop. Duusu flew to her fern for a nap. Nino had hoped for some dancing fun like last time, but he knew his music wasn't her favorite thing in the world.

He picked the first playlist he ever made. It was pure nostalgia, full of mistakes and songs he wouldn't be caught dead playing at a club. Nino tapped his foot, then went to a full-blown shuffle whenever he had time before transitions. He began to hum under his breath and figured if they never saw the light of day, he could at least use them to keep the beat of his spells.

Time flew by. His mom checked on him at one point, then shut the door when she saw he was just dancing with a pencil and ballpoint pen in hand.

Eventually Duusu joined, floating hesitantly to his shoulder. Nino patted her cheek with a finger. "Hey, you feeling good?"

"Better with your music," she said with some trepidation, like she couldn't believe such a thing was possible.

Nino smiled and offered two fingers. "Then care to join me?"

He didn't know how long they danced. At one point the playlist ended, and they kept dancing as it automatically went to the next file.

Duusu suddenly jerked in the air. She held a paw to her forehead. "Oh, Ladybug is calling. Actually, she's been calling for quite a while."

Nino felt his phone in his pocket. There were possibly at least twenty missed messages.

Nino risked a glance at his phone's screen and caught the time. Damn it. "I don't think we have time to meet at the hangout."

Duusu tapped his cheek. "As long as you get to that conference, you'll be fine. Remember, keep calm. Breathe when you need to."

Because he still had Hawkmoth's filthy magic in him, and the Bubbler could be one angry, outburst away.

"You really think I can still be akumatized, even with the Miraculous?"

Duusu tilted her head. "I don't know. This is whole new territory. But let's not take the risk, okay?"

That didn't make him feel better. Duusu offered another comforting pat.

Pushing the worst case scenario out of his mind, Nino closed the laptop and transformed. Régalien stole a glance at the mirror near his dresser. Hair in place. Suit looking good. (Kudos to the magical capabilities of self-cleaning and self-repair.) He still took great care in sneaking out without getting anything snagged on the windowsill or fire escape railing.

His communicator vibrated, and Régalien answered. Ladybug and Chat Noir shared the screen. "Ready?" she asked.

"Sorry, lost track of time. Too much dancing." He chuckled at their looks of surprise. "So sue me. I do it on my free time, too. Meet behind the hotel, at the Italian restaurant, to get our shit together before we face the masses?"

Chat Noir threw him a thumbs up. Ladybug a nod. The screen went black.

If there were any tourists with hear a hastily-cobbled speech by superheroes on their itinerary, they weren't going to have any issues finding the place. The city made signs for the occasion, complete with pictures of the three heroes mid battle. At least they were flattering.

Régalien didn't know whether to wave at the people he passed by or ignore them. So he just settled for a polite nod of acknowledgment and kept running over the rooftops.

Then there it was: Le Grand Paris, the famous Bourgeois hotel. Régalien made a hard right a couple blocks shy of that intimidating stage until he caught the faint smell of pasta. He joined the waiting heroes on the rooftop.

"Looking spiffy," Chat Noir complimented.

"I'm always dressed to impress," Régalien said with a flare of his fan. He embraced the cheesiness. He needed all the confidence he could scrounge up right now.

Ladybug opened and closed her compact, alternating between reading what was on the screen— no doubt the group chat they had contributed to during school that day— and keeping an eye on the boys. "Remember what we discussed," she told them. "We should be good."

Régalien hoped his nod looked convincing.

"Hello?" a voice called up from the street, loud enough for all three to catch.

With a feeling déjà vu, Régalien peered over the roof's edge and saw Nadja Chamack. She was alone and on the balls of her flats to get a closer look at the impromptu hero meet up. Before he could question it, Régalien vaulted over the side to land beside her. Nadja jumped but quickly composed herself when the other joined them.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready?" Ladybug asked, voice wary.

Nadja smoothed down some loose strands from her bun. She spared Chat Noir a glance, who leaned on his staff for support, but averted her eyes when Ladybug cleared her throat. "I just wanted to wish you good luck. Just so you know, I'm all for interviews, but this whole conference thing is just too much and definitely something to boost the mayor's ego."

Régalien blinked. Shots fired.

"Thank you," Ladybug eventually said with Chat Noir and Régalien nodding along.

"Will you be asking us some questions?" Régalien dared to ask.

Nadja's smile was a lot more sincere than the first time they met. "Yes, but just because if I don't, my producer will be all over me. I mean, the heroes of Paris are giving a conference for the first time, and I don't ask anything?"

"Looking forward to it," Chat Noir drawled.

"See you in a bit." Nadja turned, then said to Chat Noir, "I hope your injuries are healing well."

Régalien didn't need his powers to feel the surprise from his friend. "Thank you," Chat Noir eventually said.

Nadja left with no interview, only well wishes and a puddling sense of confusion and shock.

"She's getting too nice," Chat Noir mumbled, but there was no genuine displeasure along his string. He leaned dangerously on his staff to catch her retreating form before she turned the block.

Ladybug continued to stare. "I think she's finally seeing us as people rather than just another way to get an exclusive."

"Bout time," Régalien added.

They shared a glance before they took to the rooftops. Régalien was mentally going over his lines when a sense of unease ran through his body. He stopped, causing Ladybug and Chat Noir to pause just ahead of him.

"What's up?" Chat Noir asked.

Régalien glanced around him, casting the reach of his powers around him. There was the waiting crowd. Still that feeling of unease continued, like static playing too low on a TV.

"You guys go on ahead," he said, still too focused on his power to gauge their expressions. "I'll be right there. I just need to check something real quick."

Ladybug tried to follow his gaze, until she realized he wasn't actually taking in the view. "Akuma?"

"Not sure," he lied.

When they left, Régalien let that unsettling buzz in his core lead him a couple of blocks west. He stopped on the rooftop of a a primary school and caught sight of what could have been a cloak or the end of a whip flitting behind a billboard sign.

He hadn't mentioned the impromptu meeting— or rather, ambush— by Cloak to Ladybug and Chat Noir, and he still wasn't sure whether he should. They had a conference to attend, so there was no time right now. Afterwards?

Did the meeting bother him to the point he couldn't tell his two best friends?

Régalien balanced on the edge, but Cloak never showed up. Yet that unsettling feeling remained, like running a hand down his clothes only to find a hole where cloth should be.

He turned back towards Le Grand Paris.

The first two rows of chairs were filled with reporters and cameramen, some dressed to the nines, others haphazardly pulled from a day of lounging around the house. There was Nadja as promised, dressed in a two-piece suit of grays and blacks that complimented her red curls.

The rest of the seating was dedicated to any civilians who wanted to watch the spectacle. Every single one was filled with someone at the edge of their seat, phone at the ready. Stragglers dawdled at the edges, hoping to stay despite the police at the perimeter trying to lead them out. Mayor Bourgeois sat next to the podium with Chloé. She kept glancing at Ladybug with an excited smile.

There had to be some karmic god that made it so Chloé admired Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Ladybug and Chat Noir sat on chairs on the stage, close enough to share a conversation but not close enough to make it private. Régalien considered using the stairs on the side of the stage, but he rather not be tackled by some civilian. So he dropped off to the side and simply leaped onto the stage.

Ladybug melted in relief when he took his seat beside her. "Thought you fell out of your window or something," she whispered, but her gaze asked akuma?

Régalien shrugged. "Not today. Maybe tomorrow." No akuma.

There were still five minutes left. Régalien spent them tapping a rhythm on his knees and mouthing some of his speech. He ignored the trained cameras and the occasional flashes from phones.

Finally Mayor Bourgeois stood up and took his place at the podium. A series of flashes went off to capture the momentous occasiona, and he soaked it all up with a million-watt smile.

"People of Paris," he began, voice booming over the area, "thank you for joining us today. As your mayor, I strive to find solutions and truths to better our humble community. Today we are here to get to the bottom of the matter of why our city, and our heroes, are slowly crumbling. Our very own Chat Noir was incapacitated with injuries that very well should have been healed after the battle was over."

Chat Noir bowed his head in acknowledgment, expression hidden even as his string was teeming with annoyance. More flashes went off.

Mayor Bourgeois let the people take in the scene before continuing. "We will now begin, and after our heroes have said their piece we will then end on questions from our press."

Ladybug was the first to stride to the podium. She fisted her hands until she could grab the edge of the podium. "People of Paris, I will not beat around the bush. The Cure— the magical power that emits from my yo-yo after a battle— is not working at its full capacity. Not all buildings have been repaired, and we ourselves have suffered with injuries that have not been healed."

Ladybug took a calming breathing that echoed in the microphone. Régalien sent her positive thoughts. If anybody could start this conference off, it was her.

She continued with a steady voice, "Magic is a strange thing. We ourselves are still learning. To put it bluntly, Hawkmoth's own magic is taking from the Cure, leaving it weaker." She let that statement ring over their heads. "Rest assured that the Cure will always prioritize Paris's people first, even if they are akumatized. This is why Chat Noir was injured; the heroes are not the priority. So far, we have not had a case of civilians leaving injured after an akuma battle."

Régalien saw various reporters restraining their questions. There was a general amount of chatter among the civilians attending. Even Chloé had stopped filing her nails.

Now Chat Noir stood, Ladybug stepping back to clear the path. The slight hunch to his form was noticeable, and more flashes went off, the light illuminating his suit. Chat Noir bared it all with that model smile he had perfected long ago. He reached the podium and drew himself to his full height. "We advice anyone who witnesses an akuma attack to leave the area as soon as they can. While the Cure still works on civilians, we cannot guarantee something won't change."

The chatter became a dull roar. There had been public announcements for civilians to stay away from akuma attacks. To hear it from the heroes themselves? There was a sense of bitterness bubbling from some of the attendees. There was an even bigger sense of fear that poisoned the air.

Chat Noir waited before going to his next part. "Even when the Cure's power returns, being near an akuma attack is never safe. Yes, we are your protectors, but we may not be able to whisk you away to safety. I was injured recently." He stepped off to the side to wave at his right side; he held on to the podium for added support. "I'm not back to full strength, and I'm not sure when I'll be. Which is why the less people around an akuma attack, the better. If you're near, run away. If you can, help others who cannot. We are a community, as Mayor Bourgeois said, and a community sticks together."

There was a smattering of applause from those in agreement while the murmur from those still reeling from the warning continued.

Régalien hummed in thought. Paris had grown complacent over this past year. The Cure had existed since Stoneheart, and akuma attacks were like a fireworks display or a bad hangover, if one was unlucky enough to be caught in the middle. No lingering consequences. No need for self-preservation.

Chat Noir was right. They were a community.

A team.

Chat Noir stepped aside, and Régalien stood up and went for his part of the speech. The whispered words became chatter. Curiosity took over the crowd. Close to the microphone, he took a deep breath that echoed across the area.

The singular Debate class they had last year was forgettable. Nino practiced, spoke, and promptly ignored whatever tips their teacher went over the moment their exam was done. Nino wasn't going to be a lawyer or a politician. DJs didn't have to speak properly. They just had to drum up the energy.

The Parisians didn't want entertainment. They wanted answers. They sought concrete plants delivered by someone who wasn't sixteen and playing everything by ear.

Régalien met the eye of a civilian he didn't know. They could have been forty or fifty. Maybe he passed them once in the metro or in his mad dash to get to an akuma. Or maybe this would be the first and only time they would meet, separated by a podium and hundreds of others.

This man was a stranger to him, but Régalien was something to him. Today was going to determine exactly what that would be.

Another breath because nervousness still shook his hands. He glanced to the rooftops where that feeling of unease still remained. Then Régalien faced the crowd and started. "People of Paris, we are working on a way to restore the Cure to its full power. Hawkmoth is using the magic in the former akuma victims to steal pieces of the Cure." A wave of panic swept through the crowd, but Régalien forged on. "We are working on a method to regain the Cure from each akumatized victim back to Ladybug's possession. I'm afraid we cannot elaborate on what that method is. If Hawkmoth is privy to that information, it could sabotage our efforts."

Hawkmoth still knew little about him, and they planned to keep it that way.

"But rest assured that if you have been akumatized in the past, you do not need to do anything on your behalf. We will take care of it on our end. Our magic makes it so we do not need your identifying information."

A white lie, but a necessary one. There was no need to cause panic and potentially give Hawkmoth more people to akumatize. Their plan, after all, was just one more thing to do during patrols.

Régalien tapped into the tangled anxiousness of the crowd. It was an answer, just not the one the people of Paris were looking for, but just how they had blindly trusted the heroes for a year, they needed to do the same now.

"Though we cannot elaborate on our efforts, we can leave with the warning signs of Hawkmoth's attempts to akumatize you. Be aware of inexplicable anger from an otherwise mundane annoyance, a fever that won't go down, a headache that does not lessen. This also applies if you've been akumatized before. If you experience any of these symptoms, leave the situation, and try to calm yourself down. I suggest looking up some meditation techniques you can do. Thank you."

More applause, this one more hesitant then the last. Régalien somehow made it to Chat Noir's side without his knees buckling from the nerves.

In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't a long speech, but it was probably the longest one he ever had to make, not including the time Nino had to translate for his parents at the hospital when he was ten.

Mayor Bourgeois took the spot at the podium. He inclined his head at the heroes, smile not quite reaching his eyes, before addressed the crowd. "This conference is now open to questions from the press."

Ladybug opened her mouth to pick, only for Mayor Bourgeois to snatch away the chance and signal to the first reporter with their hand raised.

So that's how it was going to be.

What questions they could answer were short. The heroes took turns, and Régalien lost track of who answered what.

Yes, they believed that once they "cleansed" each akuma victim, Hawkmoth would be unable to akumatize them again, though they still had to wait and see for that one.

No, they did not know how Hawkmoth chose who would be next.

No, they did not know if being akumatized a second time would make the akuma stronger.

No, there were no lasting affects after one was cleansed. (This question had come from Nadja, and there was no doubt who she was most concerned about.)

Eventually, the questions died down. Ladybug and Chat Noir relaxed, the tension falling from their shoulders. Mayor Bourgeois surveyed the audience.

"I have a question."

A male reporter stood up. He had a severe expression on him, back ramrod straight and his pen rigidly poised over his notebook. Mayor Bourgeois waved his hand in the reporter's general direction in the universal sign of get on with it.

The man met Régalien's gaze head on. "Anselme Félicien from The Parisian Gazette. Where did Régalien come from?"

The crowd's murmuring rose once again. Régalien didn't break this odd, staring contest he found himself with Félicien. He stepped towards the microphone once more, breathing in and out, just how Duusu was currently reminding him to do.

"I'm sure a lot of people are wondering that, too. Well, I'm just another just a kid who still needs to go to school, do their homework, and try to hang out with friends on the weekends. Really, the only exceptional thing about me is my Miraculous. I try my best, and I hope it's enough."

He stared down at the stained wood of the podium. Only Duusu had, so far, been privy to such personal thoughts. This new set of jitters was different, and he had the inexplicable urge to double check if his mask was on. He knew Alya was watching from somewhere, if not in person at home, eyes glued to whatever screen she had her hands on.

Breathe in. Breathe out. No need to panic or get angry over someone prying into his civilian life. It was natural to wonder. To ask.

Eventually, his voice rang out again. "I ended up becoming Régalien one day to protect friends, and stayed to protect the city. It's my home. I want the best for the city, just like Ladybug and Chat Noir. I have a family here, parents who have done everything for me. If I don't help Ladybug and Chat Noir defeat Hawkmoth, then I could lose them."

He knew his pareants were watching. They watched when he got caught outside of the club. Watched when a bleeding Chat Noir was whisked away.

So he hoped they were watching now; instead of trying to hide, he was standing tall and pouring his heart out to the entire city.

There was a sense of shock and contentment across the crowd. Régalien smiled despite his lingering nerves.

Félicien frowned. "And the battle where Chat Noir got hurt—"

"— was not his fault." Chat Noir came up beside him, just when Régalien was reminding himself to stay calm. "If Ladybug and I had accepted him into the team earlier and worked with him, then he would have been farther along in his skills. As veteran Wielders, it was our job to teach him before battling, and we failed. My injuries were on me."

Régalien was floored. There was a warmth blooming in his chest, and he was reminded why he had accepted the Peacock Miraculous in the first place.

Félicien was not one to be so easily satisfied, "And how do we know we can trust you and that you won't end up becoming another Volpina? I'm sure she had family— "

"Sir," Nadja cut in, standing up from her seat and staring him down from a row away. The sun caught the red in her hair and made the anger in her expression that much more prominent. Those beside her leaned back in their seats. "You have been living in a Paris that has been under the threat of terrorist attacks for the past year. The only reason you are standing here, alive today, is because theses three kids have risked their lives to keep you, and everyone else, safe. Unless you intend to take their place, I suggest you show them the respect they've earned."

Félicien's mouth shut and, without a word, sat down to sulk with his notes. Nadja took her seat, chin held high, even as many of the stares were now directed her way.

No one followed up with a question. Mayor Bourgeois ended the conference with some words of encouragement. The heroes lingered for some more pictures until they could escape to the safety of the rooftops a couple of blocks away.

Chat Noir let himself fall, all limbs and exhaustion. He leaned back as far as his injury allowed him, face turned towards the sun. "Glad that's over!"

Ladybug sat down next to him. She nodded, silent but overall satisfied. She leaned into Chat Noir's shoulder.

Régalien picked at one of his daggers. He knew Cloak had been there. His senses told him as much. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, until he finally blurted out when Ladybug made a move to leave, "I have something to tell you." They raised their eyebrows, Ladybug sitting back down, and he admitted, "Last night, I ran into the guy with the cloak again."

Chat Noir jerked, claws digging into concrete of the rooftop. Ladybug held him back with a hand on his shoulder. "Did he hurt you? What did he—?"

"No, no, he didn't hurt me." Just his pride. "He just said he was going to stop trying to take my Miraculous and help us out."

That's not all he said, Duusu told him, but he ignored her. They didn't need to know about the other part. It had nothing to do with them.

There was nothing to be concerned about.

Ladybug's stare narrowed. "Why did he just decide to stop?"

Régalien shrugged, wishing he had asked but knowing that he hadn't been in the best head space last night. "He didn't say. I'll let Master Fu know," he told them before either of them could suggest it first. "He did say accept help that came our way."

Chat Noir huffed, tail whipping in displeasure. "I don't think he meant crazy, cloaked men that attack teenagers for their jewelry in the dead of night."

"He does something wrong, we kick his ass," Régalien reasoned. "Pretty sure he was keeping an eye on the conference, and he didn't do anything."

Chat Noir was practically growling now. His leather ears were pinned to his head, and he looked ready to leap into action, injury be damned. Ladybug's expression soured.

"He slips up even once, and he's done for. And if he helps out, well," she glanced at Régalien, "it wouldn't be the first time a new ally crashed the party."

Régalien smiled, even as Duusu chided him in his mind. Sure he hadn't told them everything Cloak had said, but they were a team. Things would work out.

---

There was some respite after the conference. They went back to their hangout with enough junk food and take out to feed a small army and congratulated themselves on not fainting in front of the entirety of Paris.

Nino was in high spirits, no roof shenanigans needed. He rode the high all the way to Saturday, where he enjoyed his lunch date with Alya. Duusu really was trying to give him more time to enjoy his social life, and as his girlfriend laughed at something he had said, Duusu let them have their moment.

So when an akuma attacked later that evening, he felt confident that it would be over by dinner time. Nino texted Marinette and Adrien the rough location of the emerging akuma: somewhere on the edge of the seventh and first arrondissements. As Nino ran out of his room with some half-baked excuse of meeting his friends to study, it felt like everything was falling into place.

He got the warning out in time.

The akuma's string was strong enough to lead him right to it.

He had the Grimoire with him.

Nino could do this.

Régalien arrived at the Museé du Louvre from the side of the River Seine, guided by the anger and frustration of a new victim. The museum itself was massive, and even though he had come to it at least on three school field trips he never got to see all of it. The Richelieu and Denon buildings bordered the expansive plaza, with the Sully building to the north. From his vantage point on a lamppost by the river's edge, he could see the museum's plaza with the famous Pyramid to the north and the gardens to the south.

This wasn't the first time an akuma had attacked such a popular tourist attraction, and Régalien would bet his tail feathers that it wouldn't be the last.

He saw civilians trickling out of the Porte des Lions and through the three arched entryways near the Denon. When the people stopped coming and the dull roar of terror materialized from within the plaza, Régalien leaped until he reached one of the building's spires and hauled himself to the other side, using the shingles to stop himself from sliding off the edge.

The plaza was the equivalent of a child's fingerpainting. Blue, yellow, and a mishmash of secondary colors dotted the buildings and ground with no rhyme or reason. A towering wall of something bright and gelatinous separated the plaza from the Tuileries Garden to the south. Civilians banged on it with fists, purses, and whatever rubble had been ripped from the ground. Chat Noir stood on top of the Carrousel du Louvre— a smaller version of the famous Arc du Triomphe monument. It stood near the gardens and the gelatinous wall. Its right arch was littered with dents and splotches of paint, ruining the carved designs on its surface.

Staff extended to maximum length, Chat Noir parried globs of the same gelatinous substances, feet spread and injured side shielded with his arms whenever possible.

Whoever this akuma was he was quick, too quick for Régalien to get a good look at before they disappeared under the arches of the Carrousel to avoid Ladybug's yo-yo.

"Régalien!" Chat Noir yelled when he dropped down. Chat Noir ducked to avoid a head shot and bellowed above the yelling and the sounds of the cackling akuma, "Get the people out of here!"

Régalien hesitated. Surely the akuma could be taken down if all three of them gave it all they got.

Chat Noir shouted again and batted away another attack. When he repositioned himself, he was stiff, a leftover of the direct hit he took from Verglas. Nino saw it whenever Adrien bent down to take his tablet from his backpack, and he was seeing it now, as Chat Noir sat in the crosshairs of an akuma. If Régalien messed up again, then he—

Régalien opened his fan, plucked a dagger, and threw it to the uppermost part of the Carrousel's crumbling side. The akuma taunted his aim with a maniacal glee, missing when the eye activated.

Immediately Régalien's vision split in two. He saw the civilians and Chat Noir, then through his dagger he saw Ladybug leaping above him, her yo-yo string held taut between both hands.

Not the best vantage point, but it would have to do.

Régalien blinked away the dagger's vision and jumped towards the wall and the panicking civilians. He landed and saw it wasn't jelly but paint: thick acrylic gouache in a wash of various, swirling colors. Régalien leaned his right hand against the gouache, but only managed to get the paint up to his wrist before an unknown power thrust him back.

Some of the civilians stopped their frantic pounding to direct their pleas to him. Régalien scanned the crowd and declared, "Okay, listen up, everybody! I'll carry children first, and everyone else will just sit tight and make sure we don't leave any children behind."

There was a smattering of grumbles that his enhanced senses picked up. ("Always the children first." "I have a family to get back to, you know.") Régalien squashed the frustration with a series of deep breaths. There was no time to chew them out.

He gathered up the first two children he saw: a little boy with a backpack bigger than his body and a little girl with the cutest butterfly berets. They gathered in his arms without a fuss, wrapping their tiny legs around his torso at his word. Régalien thought maybe they were just big fans or exceptionally brave, but when he eventually got to the last kid— a chubby boy with dried tear tracks on his cheeks— he realized that they were used to this.

Akuma attack.

Run away.

Rinse and repeat.

Régalien ground his teeth. Fucking Hawkmoth and his obsession.

On the safe side of the wall, the children huddled by a cluster of benches off the main path. The oldest held the youngest by the hands. Those who had cellphones got them and began to frantically call whatever adult they had on speed dial. Régalien turned to hop over the wall yet again when someone tugged his tail feathers.

Régalien faced the kiddos, the little girl who still held one of his tail feathers gazing up imploringly with impossibly big eyes. There was the tell-tale trembling of a stubborn kid who was keeping it together.

Crap crap crap. How did people talk to kids again? Ladybug and Chat Noir didn't teach him that in their impromptu talks on "superhero-ing 101".

Régalien knelt in front of the tiny crowd, hoping they didn't see just how tightly wound he was under the mask. "Stay here until your adult comes, got it? Until then, stick together."

At the end, Régalien had to gently pry the little girl's fingers off so he could leap back into the fray. He quickly blinked his dagger-vision to check on the situation as the adults huddled for their turn.

The akuma was facing Ladybug on the ground on the far-right of his vision. He was a stout man made out of folded pieces of sketch paper. Flowers, faces, and what Régalien guessed were parts of buildings fluttered into existence every time he moved. A palette was strapped to his back, but he was dodging too quickly for Régalien to get a good look at what it contained. Even with his face lost in the off-white paper, Régalien somehow knew he was smirking, toying with Ladybug.

Régalien blinked himself back to the adults and started with a woman who had handed off her seven-year-old to him. Then her husband. After that, the faces blurred as Régalien shuttled them to the other side.

Suddenly the string that connected him to the akuma burned self-satisfaction. Régalien landed back on the Louvre side. He couldn't see anything other than viscous, yellow gouache dribbling down the side of the Carrousel.

"Gotcha!"

A hand clasped around his bicep. Half-encased in the wall of gouache, the akuma pulled him closer with superhuman strength. There were eyes and a mouth among the folds, but they were penciled in, then colored in, then dripping in watercolor. When he laughed, it was the sound of paper being ripped.

"I thought peacocks were all-seeing," the akuma taunted. "That's okay. I'm Croquis, and I'll be more than happy to observe the world for you."

Régalien tried to twist away, but his bicep was leaden down, too numb to react. The akuma squeezed, and gouache dribbled down his arm, steadily numbing everything it touched. Elbow. Wrist.

No no no no.

Régalien whipped out his fan and slashed at Croquis's arm. Paper shreds flew, and the offending hand was gone. Croquis bounded out of the wall, over another swipe of his fan, and reached for his tail feathers with paper fingers tipped in paint.

Régalien swept his tail away, stumbling back against the wall. With only one good arm, he used his fan to deflect another grab, and another, then the point of a brush pulled out of the mess of papers that made up his torso. Croquis skipped around him, leaving a blotch of paint with every step.

Thanking all the dancing he's had to practice, Régalien twisted and deftly kept his footing, even as he was being lead to where the corner of the gouche wall met the edge of the Denon building. The shadow cast by the building grew closer and closer around them; the hairs on the back of his neck prickled in dread.

Régalien glanced over his shoulder at the adults by the magical wall. Dammit. Some of them were missing, more than likely running for cover somewhere paint-free. Régalien hoped they were close. "Hide in the Carrousel!" he yelled to the remaining civilians. He prayed they listened.

Croquis huffed in amusement. He circled him too quick for Régalien to try and land a swipe.

Plop. Plop.

Croquis was trapping him in a circle of paint with every bound. "That poor excuse of a monument is barely standing. Sure you can get there in time?"

He got a glare as a response.

As silent as his namesake, Chat Noir appeared from above and batted Croquis away with his staff. He called after the stumbling man, "I say he has a purr-fect chance now!"

Régalien wiped away what he could of the gouache on his arm with the edge of his fan until only a faint numbness pervaded. He flexed his fingers, the ache present at the joints, but bearable.

While still keeping an eye on Croquis, Chat Noir edged closer to Régalien and stage-whispered. "He's a quick one. We can have the civilians hide near the exits while you help us take him out."

As much as he ached to jump into the fray Régalien knew he shouldn't. He was better and faster than before, but those civilians needed help. "I'll get the civilians out first. They're my priority."

Chat Noir blinked, then nodded and went after Croquis.

Régalien rushed to the crumbling Carrousel. Did the missing person come back? He did a quick headcount and figured he could find the rest after this. "Follow me! Keep up and get ready for your turn. Don't touch the paint on the ground!"

It was a mad dash to the wall, and there, crouched on its edge, was Cloak, out in the daytime like he owned the palce. It was as surreal as watching a dog walk on its hind legs. The purple of his costume was richer in the daylight, and without the harsh shadows of the moonlight and lampposts, he looked regal rather than menacing.

People murmured about the possibility of another Miraculous Wielder. Régalien searched for something to say, only for Cloak to beat him to the punch by jumping down and declaring, "I'll take care of the civilians. You're needed in the fight."

Régalien glanced from the civilians, then back to him. There was the usual unease about being in front of someone so devoid of emotion. Yet other than that, he trusted the man, whoever he was.

"Everyone, this man is here to help you get out of here," he told the awaiting crowd of people.

The civilians glanced from him, to Cloak, then back to him, hesitant but silent. They trusted him to make the right decision.

Régalien offered them a farewell smile, then he turned on his heel, the stress of the battle lighter than before.

Régalien tapped into his dagger as he ran, making for a dizzying display. He focused on the dagger-vision, trying to pinpoint where all the fighters were and finding out that the battle had moved closer to the Pyramid. He saw Ladybug up on the rooftops of the Sully building with the two blurs of Chat Noir and Croquis on the ground. Régalien banished the vision and recalled the dagger from the Carrousel, catching it deftly in his hand and replacing it in his fan.

Oh how he wanted to just jump in and slash, or sweep some feet, or even grab that obnoxiously-large palette filled with gouache and hurl it at the ground.

Defense, Duusu reminded as Régalien's adrenaline climbed and the grip on his fan tightened.

Régalien nodded, somewhat reluctant but determined to protect his friends, even from himself. He scaled up the Pyramid too fast to give his boots time to slip, avoiding the trail of gouache trickling down the side. Taking out two daggers, he aimed, then threw them at Croquis.

They ripped through the akuma's right and left foot to stick him to the ground. Chat Noir took the chance to kick Croquis back hard enough to make the gouache in his hand splatter back. Croquis twisted, only to get the butt of a baton shoved into his chest.

From the view from his daggers, Régalien saw Chat Noir's calculating stare on Croquis, who laughed and bared his neck of paper and sketches. "Looking for my item? Take a good look."

The palette on his back shifted, and gouache trickled down its side and into the many folds of paper. Régalien yelled along with Ladybug, "Watch out!"

Croquis ripped his right foot free and with it, a spray of gouache. Chat Noir rolled away with only a stain of gouache covering the tip of his tail and heel. Croquis shook off the tattered pieces of paper from his injured foot and worked his other one free. There was no pained groan, no blood. Just cockiness as Croquis reached over his shoulder to pull out the brush from the palette on his back.

Ladybug landed beside Chat Noir. In sync, the heroes tensed. Was that his item?

Croquis clearly saw the question in their expressions . His body of paper fluttered in a huge sigh. "This for your Miraculous," he announced, holding the brush across his palms.

Still on the top of the Pyramid, Régalien focused on the brush. Ordinary, just as long as his arm. There was no insistent bad-thump pulse that was Hawkmoth's telltale magic signature in that brush. Only the air of magic that streamed from Croquis and the gouache he left behind bathed the wood and bristles.

"That's not his item!" Régalien yelled.

Croquis snapped his head towards him. Hawkmoth's glowing mask appeared over his face. Croquis said nothing, and Régalien shirked back against the heated glare. That wasn't Croquis but Hawkmoth staring him down. The string that bound him to Hawkmoth tightened around his wrist and seemed to climb closer to his chest, threatening to cut off his breath.

"Think you're so smart," Croquis crooned in a voice not entirely his own. Stock still, just another statue on the museum's grounds. Paper rose and fluttered as he seethed, and on Régalien the string tightened enough to numb his fingertips. "Meddlesome birds like you should mind their own business."

Régalien breathed in. Hawkmoth wasn't here. Like the coward he was, Hawkmoth was using some poor civilian for his cause.

He wasn't here.

"Maybe certain butterflies shouldn't get others to do their dirty work," Régalien barked back and threw his own glare in there for good measure. Let Hawkmoth simmer and throw a tantrum in whatever basement he was holed up in.

Croquis's eyes narrowed, a smattering of sketched bees appearing and running down the pages of his face. One of his palms gripped the hilt of the paintbrush. Then he moved, drawing a line of gouache from his palette and taking aim.

Wasting no time, Ladybug attacked with a yo-yo strike that hit Croquis in the wrist and aborted whatever attack he had started. She followed it up with another throw that knocked him back.

"Feisty, aren't you?" Croquis quipped, earning him a glare from Chat Noir. "I would love to sketch that self-righteous look you have on you face. You just have to stand still."

Croquis's face ruffled in an imitation of raising his eyebrows, his smirk appearing briefly before the paper covered it up. Gouache dripped from his fingers while he twirled his brush in the other.

He attacked, feinting left to avoid the incoming yo-yo.

Ladybug dodged swipes of paint. Chat Noir jumped in to try and wrangle the brush away.

Then Cloak arrived from the left, whip flying out and catching Croquis's arm just as he raised it above Chat Noir's head. Keeping his momentum, Cloak tugged and pulled Croquis to the ground.

Chat Noir stared, jaw agape and gouache lying uselessly at his feet. Then Croquis escaped the whip. Gouache pooled into the bristles of his brush in preparation for a second attack.

No time for questions.

Cloak melded seamlessly into the fray. He patrolled the sidelines, whip coming out to pull and tug Croquis off-course before his brush hit its target. Ladybug and Chat Noir alternated blows from their yo-yo and staff.

Régalien recalled the abandoned daggers and flicked off the gouache from their tips. He slid further down the face of the Pyramid, flaring out his tail feathers to stop himself from sliding. Perched at an angle with only his train and his boots to keep him from face planting, Régalien recalculated. He waited for his turn to immobilize.

But Croquis was moving too fast and unpredictable to land another hit. Duusu still had one grip around his mind, willing him to think logically about this. Chat Noir and Ladybug were too close to the target. If his daggers deviated they would be hit.

"Okay, Plan B, then," Régalien said to himself.

He got out one more dagger and threw all three not at Croquis but at the perimeter of their fight, avoiding Cloak. From one dagger to another, the circumference spanned five meters. Régalien focused on the twin strings that connected him to his teammates.

With a thought and some footwork taken from one of his spells— and how he didn't fall off the Pyramid was anyone's guess, he took away Ladybug's frustration. The moment he felt it slither into his mind, Régalien physically recoiled. Cloak's words from that night sprung back up, telling him that none of this would fully go away. Régalien's gaze wandered to Cloak, who was definitely keeping an eye on him.

Duusu reached out as Régalien's anxiety climbed, but panic made him instinctively release the burst of power into the air before he could move on to the next part of Seeing Eye. The glass beneath his feet cracked and shattered, forcing Régalien to tumble down the crumbling face of the Pyramid.

What if it was all true?

Nino, it's not.

Régalien rolled to his feet. The fight continued to escalate in front of him. He could tell Ladybug was more focused, her kicks smoother, the swings of her yo-yo more calculated. Croquis brought his brush up to deflect each strike, leaving him open to Chat Noir's staff jabs and Cloak's whip.

Régalien played with the last two daggers left in his fan. Fear that another mistake would land either Adrien or Marinette in the hospital kept him from jumping into the battle or attempting Seeing Eye again.

Because what if Cloak was right, and another Seeing Eye ended up with him snapping and falling under Hawkmoth's control?

You're okay, Duusu continued to soothe. Take deep breaths.

Cloak's stare was on him. He could feel it, with or without his powers. Then the man ignored him in favor of releasing another attack with his whip.

The brush flew out of Croquis's hands. Croquis jumped for it, only to get hit in the face with the combined forces of a baton and a yo-yo, crumbling the paper to the point half his face caved in.

Chat Noir and Ladybug made quick work of tagteaming Croquis from either side, no doubt searching for the akumatized item. She attacked with snaps of her yo-yo, hitting him in the knees and chest. Chat Noir battered him from the side with jabs of his baton. Croquis swiped blindly with his bare hands, throwing gouache from his fingertips, but having to avoid Cloak's whip meant most went flying harmlessly to the side.

Eventually, Croquis was forced to dodge, until his back hit a wall.

They had this. They just needed one last push.

As Ladybug circled Croquis, Régalien recalled his daggers and used one to stick Croquis to the wall by his arm and the others to set them up in front of Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Recalling the same spell he had used during the Diamantte attack, Régalien stepped forward, toes pointed, one dagger in his palm prepared to channel the Seeing Eye. He couldn't mess up again. They needed him.

Just as he moved his fan, goosebumps rippled along his arms. The slight breeze left the plaza and left him with only the sound of blood rushing in his ears. Régalien tried to breathe in, but a weight pressed on his chest. He took steadying breaths. Now was not the time to get flustered.

When his heart started to physically ache, he realized there was nothing emotional about this assault from within.

Hawkmoth's string, that same magic he could always sense just out of reach, was now wrapped around his lungs, a piano wire his fingers couldn't slide under. The edges of his vision tinged black.

Nino? Duusu called from what seemed a thousand miles away.

Like a rubber band, Régalien's concentration snapped, the power he'd started to collect rebounding right back to their sources. Ladybug and Chat Noir stumbled, dazed, confused, and looking to him for an explanation.

But Régalien could only follow the pull of the white-hot string. It lifted his head until he saw the tall figure on the top of the Sully building. Everyone else followed his panicked gaze.

"Hawkmoth," Ladybug whispered.

He could have been any well-dressed gentleman, clad in a two-piece suit of deep maroons and violet, but there was no denying the overwhelming wrongness that clogged the air.

Croquis took the opportunity to rip himself free and scale the wall to reach his master. With leaps, he dodged Ladybug's yo-yo and Chat Noir's staff until he reached Hawkmoth's side. He peered up at his master, but when that gaze was directed at him, he shirked back.

"Weak," Hawkmoth told the man, his voice echoing across the plaza. With no akuma conduit, his voice was a deep bass, an upcoming thunderstorm that promised destruction.

Croquis made himself even smaller, the paper edges of his body fluttering in distress. "Hawkmoth, I— "

The return of his brush, called up with a silent command from Hawkmoth, cut him off.

Hawkmoth handed him back his weapon with a simple, "Be happy I still need you." Then he gazed down at the heroes from behind his cowl.

Ire, glee, and a year's worth of frustration poured out of Hawkmoth with all the intensity of a hurricane. Régalien took in a shuddering breath that did nothing to quell the frantic beating against his ribcage. Even when Hawkmoth turned his eyes to the expanse of Paris, he couldn't rid himself of the chills.

"Look who finally crawled out of his cave," Ladybug said, and everyone knew he could hear her.

The glance Hawkmoth sent down was pure contempt, and blanketed the plaza like a winter chill. Then he continued to gaze out beyond the museum's grounds.

"Why the sudden curtain call?" Chat Noir called up.

Régalien stood there with Hawkmoth's emotions curdling inside him. It burned his veins, closed his throat, and rendered him mute. One word and he might burst, burned up from the inside like kindling. Régalien recalled all of his blades back, but even they couldn't make him feel safe.

Despite his team's inability to sense Hawkmoth's anger, they remained on the ground. Ladybug's yo-yo spun in a constant loop while Chat Noir's staff remained fix at chest level. Cloak's whip was still, but his gaze was fixed on the figure standing watch above them.

Yet they never moved.

After a heavy pause, Hawkmoth gazed down at them. "I would say it's a pleasure to meet in person, but I'm not one for sentimentality. This game of cat and mouse has proven to be more meddlesome than I had thought."

There was a cacophonous boom, and the heroes turned to watch part of the Carrousel melt away in a rush of acid and bubbling stone. A kid no older than twelve sat on the monument's top, two balloons cradled in his palms.

His whole outfit screamed clown, but the colors were wrong. They were muted blues, browns, and greens slapped onto a wetsuit. His white face paint had dripped at some point, freezing his painted smile into a perpetual grimace. Blood-red tear tracks warped as he smiled wide.

"Slip-N-Slide," Chat Noir growled low in his throat. He whipped back around and yelled up to Hawkmoth, "You have some nerve bringing in a kid back into a fight. You're lucky he won't remember us beating you to the ground."

The Butterfly Miraculous isn't able to bring out two champions at once, Duusu murmured.

Régalien bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. It probably had to do with Slip-N-Slide already harboring Hawkmoth's magic in him. Less effort on his part to bring in someone already infected.

Hawkmoth canted his head at Croquis. "Have fun."

Croquis rained down a deluge of paint while another explosion from Slip-N-Slide shook the ground.

Chat Noir dashed after Croquis with a staff-aided leap. Croquis twisted away from the hit, then pushed off the building wall with his feet and struck Chat Noir between the shoulder blades with the butt of his paintbrush.

Cloak jumped in. He evaded the paint on the ground and aimed for the paintbrush.

"Go to Slip over there! Distract and defend until I get there!" Ladybug yelled at Régalien, and then she was gone in a flash of her yo-yo, eyes on Hawkmoth. Whatever anger and frustration he had sucked from her returned tenfold as a simmering ball of rage that propelled her up the side of the building and towards her target.

Régalien tore himself from Hawkmoth's gaze and ran back to the southern end of the plaza. He brought out his fan and counted all his daggers twice. This was it. He couldn't mess this up. He had to take care of this akuma so Ladybug had a chance to finally bring Hawkmoth down.

They could actually end this today.

Slip-N-Slide slid down the unblemished side of the Carrousel. Water trickled down his suit to mix with the gouache that dotted the ground.

"A new challenger has approached me," he crowed.

Slip-N-Slide threw his balloons in quick succession. Régalien batted away the first one with his fan and dodged the second with a roll to the right. The tell-tale sizzling of acid eating cement echoed and made the ends of his tail feathers curl in apprehension.

They fell into a dance. Throw. Deflect. Dodge. Throw. Deflect. Dodge. Régalien aimed each balloon to the debilitated side of the Carrousel in the hopes of bring it and Slip-N-Slide down. His dodges became automatic, even if he felt the toxic fumes of the acid closer and closer to his ankles and train.

Régalien decided to take a page out of Chat Noir's book.

"I thought," he said after a dodge, "you were supposed to be better than this. Isn't this your second go around at trying to steal some jewelry?" Another deflect. "You're really slipping."

Slip-N-Slide paused with one balloon hoisted over his head. He bared his teeth. "Why you— "

Régalien stole the chance to lurch forward and kneed him in the chest, the balloons in his hand thrown up in the air. Slip-N-Slide grappled for them. Curses that were not meant for a twelve-year-old's mouth spilled out.

Régalien grabbed the kid by folds of spandex and somersaulted forward, bringing Slip-N-Slide along for the ride. Régalien slammed him to the ground.

"Sorry, kid." He swiped the party hat from Slip-N-Slide's lolling head. He prepared himself for the burst of magic that he always felt in an akumatized item, only to sense nothing.

Panicked, Régalien turned the party hat over in his hands, even ripped in half, but he couldn't trick the innate magic in his Miraculous. Despite the fact that this was the same item Ladybug had freed the akuma from two months ag the akuma was not inside.

Because there was no akuma at all, just Hawkmoth's magic. Just like Alya's transformation that had been cut short.

Slip-N-Slide chuckled from his place on the floor. "Guess I'm better than you thought."

You're going to have to use a spell to take away Hawkmoth's magic and return him back to normal, Duusu told him, and even her words held an undercurrent of panic. They had never cleansed an AV mid-battle.

Darkness blotted out the sun. Régalien risked a glance up and saw a multitude of dark-purple butterflies swoop down upon the plaza. From his peripheral, he saw Chat Noir freeze under their touch. When Croquis moved, Chat Noir jerked roughly to the side to avoid a paint splatter, only to lose his balance and fall to the ground.

Ladybug fell with him with her own swarm of butterflies clinging to her shoulders.

Régalien brandished his fan in the air above him, waiting for those butterflies to land on him, too. They swarmed around him in a cloud, darkening his vision and cutting him off from his team. Régalien swiped the air in front of him and hoped to break through the mass of wings.

Instead he got kicked in the ribs hard enough to throw him back into the daylight. The world spun, a mesh of browns and purples. Régalien collided with the Carrousel's crumbling side hard enough to make him see stars.

"So this is Fu's new Peacock."

Régalien brought his head up to see Hawkmoth's cold stare. The string that tied them together pulled Régalien to his feet and back, back, until he hit the archway again. His tail feathers curled around his legs.

"Stay back," Régalien said with a voice much smaller than his own. He brought up his fan.

Hawkmoth stopped, heels clicking together with a sickening finality; he'd trapped him like a lamb to slaughter. "You're brave, I'll give you that. What else do you have?"

Everything he'd accomplished as a Miraculous Wielder vanished from his recollection. Suddenly he was back outside the crushed truck with brand new powers fighting against Iron Lung. Régalien tried to pick up his dignity and only managed a shaky, "I..."

Hawkmoth unsheathed a rapier of all things from his cane. He swung it to the side, making Régalien flinch back.

Hawkmoth signaled to Slip-N-Slide with the point of his rapier. "Keep the bug and cat busy. Croquis can handle our powerless friend with the whip."

What?

"Sir, yes, sir!" The kid skipped away with a trail of butterflies fluttering at his heels.

Hawkmoth watched him go, impassive, then turned back to Régalien, showing him a feral grin. "Show me what you can do."

What about the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses? Hawkmoth's holy grails, the reason he led this entire crusade in Paris?

He wasn't the one who was supposed to go up against Hawkmoth.

That had never been the plan.

Hawkmoth shot forward, and Régalien put up his fan just in time to block it. He didn't expect Hawkmotht to lean into him and shove him back. In the next instant, the rapier swiped down his arm.

Pain rippled up to his elbow. Régalien clutched the ripped sleeve, red staining his glove and black blooming in his vision. Hawkmoth lunged again. No hesitancy. No monologue that gave him a moment to reflect on exactly what kind of mess he'd jumped feet first into. Hawkmoth was here with a singular goal in mind, whatever it was.

Blinking back the upcoming dizziness, Régalien weaved out of the way with one hand still clutching his brand new wound. He jumped and ducked out of the shadow of the crumbling monument and into the plaza.

Back out in the open, he caught glances of his team against the akumas. Everything, from their attacks to their jumps, were sluggish— Cloak most of all. No doubt it was from whatever those butterflies hovering over them did.

Despite the searing burn of his cut, Régalien took his hand away and drew out two daggers from his fan. On his next breath he threw them. He managed to nick Hawkmoth in the shoulder. If there was a cut in the fabric, it was too small to see.

Hawkmoth spared the annoyance a glance. The edges of his cowl crinkled in amusement. "That's more like it."

Why him? He was only the defense.

Hawkmoth melted into his next attack, a streak of purple that met no obstacles. Régalien dodged and threw his second dagger, then his third when he saw an opening. It slowed Hawkmoth enough for Régalien to recall one dagger and draw up a third.

His fingers felt sluggish, and his left wrist ached terribly, sending shooting pain up his arm. Blood on his glove made his hold too slick. Régalien fought to grip both his daggers and his fan while Hawkmoth effortlessly cornered him away from his team. He continued to block each and every throw.

For some reason he was being singled out.

Hawkmoth dodged yet another dagger. Régalien dared to lunge with an attack. He went too far, and Hawkmoth punished him with a slash to his back.

Régalien dropped to a knee, on the precipice of falling over. Pain from his back and from his arm somehow coalesced into one giant body ache. His fingers ached the longer he held onto his weapons.

The "defend and wait" strategy was not going to work without the cavalry at the ready.

Getting back to his feet, he took aim and threw two of his daggers over Hawkmoth's head, farther than he ever had to, and prayed they would land their mark. Régalien felt them sink into the glass of the Pyramid. It was as close as he was going to get to his teammates.

Hawkmoth gave him little room to move. This hasty shuffling he'd been forced into wasn't going to cut it.

So he went for a lunge again. Hawkmoth swiped with his rapier. Régalien pivoted on his foot just enough to feint to the left and give himself a couple of feet of distance between him and Hawkmoth.

Gotta make this count, Lahiffe, he told himself. Even if this was something he didn't know he could actually pull off. Duusu grew worried, but she knew just as well as he did that things were getting desperate.

Régalien drew in a fistful of Chat Noir's frustration from across the plaza. It was like heartburn sitting in his chest, not quite the inferno that Seeing Eye encompassed. But that was all he needed.

Hawkmoth turned as silent as a wraith. A spark of curiosity ran in his string, but the rapier still came swinging to close the gap between them.

Régalien did two quick steps and a sweep of his right foot— a modified version of the Seeing Eye he usually used— and sent the burst of emotion from his fan and straight at Hawkmoth, just like the burst of power he had accidentally released earlier.

It pushed Hawkmoth farther than a simple deflect of the fan. Again that curious flame, ice cold against his earlier anger.

Holy shit, it had actually worked. Duusu cheered him on.

Régalien drew on Ladybug's frustration and repeated his attack. Hawkmoth parried with his rapier but still had to take a step back.

It wasn't much but he would take it. Régalien grinned behind his fan. "Not so great now, huh?"

He had to keep Hawkmoth busy. Whatever the reason he chose to single him out, he would have to take advantage of it.

("Lucky Charm!" came Ladybug's yell somewhere behind him. She sounded as exhausted as he felt.)

As Régalien led Hawkmoth away from the corner he'd been leading him to and closer to the others, he drew up a hasty three-part plan that might leave them all with their feathers intact:

1) Corner Hawkmoth somewhere away from his akumas.

2) Consult the Grimoire for a spell strong enough to put Hawkmoth out of commission.

3) Execute it.

With his new attack, keeping Hawkmoth's rapier away from his throat became doable. His back ached whenever he moved his shoulder blades, and his arm burned whenever he had to deflect with his fan.

The Cure would get rid of the worst of it. He could afford another slash if it meant he got Hawkmoth where he wanted.

"Not quite as talkative as the others, are you?" Hawkmoth teased as he steadily closed the gap between them.

Focus. Régalien did another two-step dance that sent another blast of power that grazed Hawkmoth's leg. That bought precious seconds for Régalien to migrate to the south-east end of the plaza

He focused with every blast, every dodge, and even when Hawkmoth decided to descend those butterflies on him Régalien stuck to his plan. With their touch, his senses dulled, and his focus wavered. A tremble ran up his wrists.

His dagger clattered to the ground. Régalien dove for it with all the strength he could muster.

Hawkmoth pivoted and kicked him away. Régalien rolled away, dropped dagger in hand and his ribs burning. Two butterflies clung to his shoulders. Lethargy and pain muffled the focus he'd scrounged up from his last reserves.

Fine. He was going to have to move up the timeline of his plan.

When Hawkmoth came close— close enough where the designs on his dress shoes became clear— Régalien took two of his daggers and planted them through through Hawkmoth's pants legs as firmly as his wounded and numb arms could manage.

That was not going to hold him for long.

Régalien rolled under the brandished rapier and unhooked the shrunken Grimoire from his belt. It grew under his touch.

"Come on, come on," he muttered as he flipped through the pages. Only magic and familiarity allowed him to skim read.

That one would take too long to execute.

He couldn't do this one with both of his arms feeling like dead weights.

And this one required all five of his daggers.

Butterflies alighted on the pages of his book. Régalien forced himself to move back to the safety of his team, eyes still scanning the pages for a spell he could manage. Power was all he needed.

Wait. What about this one?

Régalien halted at a promising page. Three daggers max. No fancy arm movements. He didn't even glance at the Wielder the page portrayed.

A broken twang in his stomach told him that Hawkmoth broke free. With his back to the man, Régalien recalled his daggers and blindly spared a hand to reach for them; he only got one back. His eyes scanned the open plaza before him for a suitable place.

Hawkmoth yanked him back by the collar of his costume and whirled him around. This close up, Régalien was privy to the man behind Hawkmoth's cowl. His eyes were a frigid blue-gray. Under his growling smile, there was the smattering of growing stubble.

"Look at you, finally using your resources," he crooned.

Régalien still had enough room, even with the Grimoire held against his chest. There were enough daggers in his fan for—

Hawkmoth swiped at him with his Régalien own dagger, aiming for his belt and the Miraculous it contained. Régalien jerked away, ripping his sleeve further and earning him another slash on his arm.

When Hawmoth aimed again, it was pure instinct to step back. The Grimoire lowered, exposing the pages. Régalien saw the dagger slicing, fingers reaching —

— and the Grimoire's page was torn away.

The shock that went through Régalien chest brought him to his knees. Duusu cried out in his head, her words distorted beyond recognition. It hurt to blink, to focus on the crumpled parchment Hawkmoth clutched in his fist.

Régalien didn't register Cloak coming in and shielding him with his body, or Ladybug and Chat Noir shouting, their pounding footsteps echoing in his temples.

He was only focused on the paper Hawkmoth— tensed, stepping back— smoothed out and observed with a raised chin.

"Level headed and soft spoken, he relies on a strong connection with his team to predict the level of support they will need."

Even through the pained haze, Régalien understood what was happening well enough. His heart sank.

"You can read it?" he choked out.

Hawkmoth lovingly folded the torn page. He was far enough to escape but close enough for his voice to be audible. "I wrote it."

The cry of Miraculous Ladybug did nothing to soothe the overwhelming dread seeping into his bones. Régalien tried to stand, but his limbs refused to move. He bowed his head. Deep breaths.

Get up.

Get up.

Hawkmoth's string , lengthened, then disappeared from the edge of his awareness. It wasn't until Ladybug and Chat Noir helped him sit up that he realized he still had every one of his cuts.

Ladybug steadied him and announced just above a whisper, "The Cure didn't work on us."

Régalien clutched the Grimoire even as his injuries burned in protest. Tremors overcame his body.

"Régalien?"

There was an unbearable tightness in his throat.

Duusu stayed silent.

---

That concludes the Midpoint and the first half of this fanfic. Any thoughts so far? Any theories about how the second half will play out? Let me hear them!

NaNoWriMo went well, and I wrote up those pesky 50K, but I still have a bit more to write - from the Third Plot Point to the end. This little project is definitely going to hit 200K. Hope you're ready for that!

Also, if you're interested in seeing doodles from this fanfic or seeing snippets of upcoming scenes, feel free to check me out on Tumblr under phantom-kat. You can already check out the names of the scenes I wrote for NaNoWriMo here: post/669339428180967424/yes-goal-obtained-this-marks-the-third-time-ive

As always, feel free to comment! =D