I honestly love this story. I've never been able to write anything past two thousand words before, but now my outline for this is pushing 16k and my draft just reached 50k. I'm so happy with where this is heading, and I hope you guys are too. I keep having to jot down new ideas or connections I come up with randomly. It's kind of a pain when I'm in the middle of the store or something, but it's whatever.

Thank you for the comments!

Enjoy ;)

Marinette heaved the bucket across the field, Chat following closely in case she needed help. He had added a couple more rocks today, so the bucket weighed a few extra pounds than Marinette was accustomed to carrying. As they were passing the posts, Chat reached out and touched her shoulder, stopping her. She didn't waste a second to ungracefully drop her bucket to the ground.

She exhaled loudly and rubbed at her upper arms. "What is it?"

Chat gently set his bucket on the grass. "I have a new way to track your progress."

She looked between him and the nearest post. "You want me to climb that again?"

"Yup," he said as he backed away from the posts before scanning over them all.

Marinette did the same, and she realized most didn't have arrows at the top. "You don't have the North use arrows?"

Chat frowned and placed his hands on his hips. "I do, but nobody replaces anything around here." He spotted a post with an arrow and pointed at it. "That one. Let's have you climb that one."

He jogged over to it, Marinette following apprehensively. He bent down at the base of the post, where there were weights already wrapped around it, ready for immediate use. He shimmied the weights up to her eye level and held them in place, waiting for her to come take them.

Marinette didn't move.

Chat beckoned her over with his free hand. "Come on, you've done this before, right?"

She took a few steps closer, eyeing the post warily. "Yeah, but I don't know if I can do it again."

Chat handed the loops over to her. "That's what we're here to find out. I want to see what you can do on your own, without the adrenaline helping you."

Marinette chewed her lip and moved to stand in front of the post, one loop in each hand. She felt uneasy about this. All of her failed attempts beforehand only got her a few feet off the ground, but now that she had the weights, she would probably make it farther. That only made it more dangerous if she were to fall.

She took a deep breath and willed herself to focus. She had done this before. All she had to do was channel whatever determination she felt at the time, and it would work again.

Marinette pulled on the knot and lifted herself off the ground. She noticed Chat move to stand behind her as she brought her other foot up. With a burst of energy, she swung the weights higher on the post. Her arms quivered from the strain, but she pressed on. One foot after the other, she walked up the post, each step burning more than the last.

About halfway up, she felt her arms quitting on her. The force of her pulling on the ropes lessened, and the knot slipped. Her heart leaped to her throat as her feet started sliding, and as she scrambled to correct herself, she lost her grip on a loop. She went from sliding to falling in a matter of seconds. Her feet were the last to leave the post as she fell with her back first.

She barely had a moment to brace herself for the landing, but it never came. Chat had rushed forward the second she started to fall. She landed in his arms, not perfectly, but enough to stop her from hitting the ground. He adjusted his grip on her and knelt to the ground, lowering her onto the grass.

Marinette felt around for the earth beneath her, bringing her other hand to her chest as she tried to calm her racing heart. She really thought she was going to hit the ground. She clung onto the grass next to her, trying to remind herself that she was okay now, but the fear and panic the fall caused continued to grip her.

Chat kept his arm around her shoulders. "Are you okay?" he asked, ducking to meet her eyes.

She took deep breaths and slowly nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine." She struggled to swallow, her heart still throbbing in her throat. "I didn't know you were gonna catch me."

Chat's face turned apologetic as he helped her sit up. "I'm sorry, I should have checked in with you." Her heart rate was returning to normal, and Chat sat back on his heels once she seemed to have calmed down. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea."

She looked over at him. Chat looked like a sad puppy, and any lingering feelings inside her instantly vanished. She could see Chat genuinely felt guilty about scaring her, and it looked so foreign on his usually cheery face. The expression didn't belong on him, and she wanted nothing more than to wipe it away completely. "No, it's okay, Chat. I just wasn't prepared for it, that's all." She sat up straighter. "See? I'm all good now. I think this will be good for me. I need to learn how to do it anyway, right?"

He didn't look convinced. "Are you sure?"

She nodded and moved to get up. "I just need to get used to falling." He continued to kneel in the grass and look up at her. She still felt hesitant about the post, about falling again, and he could tell. Instead of addressing it, she offered her hand. "You can't catch me from there," she said with a small smile. He eyed her as he took her hand and got up.

She swung her arms around and walked around the post, trying to get her blood pumping again. Chat stood with his arms crossed, watching her. "You pushed yourself pretty hard just now," he said. "I don't know if you'll be able to do as well so soon after."

Marinette shrugged. "I don't care. The point is to get used to you catching me." Marinette wasn't sure where this newfound resolve came from, but it probably had something to do with cheering Chat up again. Their dynamic shifted when she fell; Chat seemed more cautious now, more serious. It strayed away from the carefree guy she was used to working with, and she wanted to get him back to normal.

Without offering him a glance or a warning, Marinette grabbed the loops and started her climb again. She heard him rush over to stand behind her again, and it made her feel more confident. Sure, she was still afraid of falling, but she needed to trust that he would catch her. She did her best to empty her mind and focus on the climb, and to her surprise, she reached just about the same height before she started slipping.

Her first instinct was to flail and panic, and although her heart rate spiked as she fell backward, some part of her knew he would catch her, and he did. She landed in his arms more solidly this time, and instead of feeling scared, Marinette felt a rush. Chat's expression morphed from concern to astonishment at the grin growing on Marinette's face.

She slapped his shoulder. 'Did you see that? I made it just as far!"

Chat hesitantly smiled. "Yeah, that's awesome, but are you," he searched her face, "okay?"

Marinette's breathing slowed as the rush died down, but she continued to grin manically. "Yeah," she gave a nod to herself, "Yeah, let's do it again."

She got up and went to the post, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she stretched her arms. Chat stared at her in amazement before getting to his feet and approaching her. He shook his head good-naturedly. "If only you had this much energy every day."

Marinette looked at him and saw he seemed more relaxed now, more like himself again. She grinned. "I'm only energetic when I'm passionate about something. No offense, but bicep curls are kinda boring."

"Huh." Chat mulled this over while she finished stretching. "So you're saying if I get more creative with your exercises," he started slowly, "then you might be more passionate about them?"

She peered over at him. "Maybe."

Chat said nothing, but as he moved to spot her again, a small smirk appeared on his face.

They did little else that morning, and by the next day, Chat had an alternative plan ready for her. They had just retrieved the buckets and the rocks, and when Marinette started heading off to the left of the field, he stopped her.

"Let's go this way today." He nodded his head towards the obstacle courses.

Marinette stared at him blankly before she remembered what he said yesterday. She looked towards the structures curiously. "Okay. Lead the way."

He took his time to wander over to the obstacle courses, which Marinette felt he did on purpose, knowing she was struggling to carry her bucket. Now that they were up close, she realized there were only three obstacle courses, while the rest of the structures scattered around were for individual use. He brought her to a separate one, another post. It had a pulley near the top with a rope strung through it. He took her bucket from her and hooked it to one end of the rope before facing her again.

"I think you know what I'm about to ask you."

Marinette surveyed the system. "You want me to pull on the rope? And lift the bucket?"

"Yup." He turned to look at it too, but then he looked back, eyes slightly unsure. "Is this a little better than before? I'm guessing you like exercises that are more hands-on than reps and sets, so I figured we could do some stuff out here instead."

Marinette looked back at Chat with a warm smile. He was so considerate of her. Even when he didn't need to be training her in the first place, he was trying to adjust his regime so it was more enjoyable for her. "Thank you, Chat. Really. I like this a lot better."

Chat looked relieved and beamed at her.

Marinette grabbed the rope, and Chat moved closer to show her how to position her feet and her arms. It was difficult, but Marinette pushed through it, feeling the same resolve she felt yesterday when she was climbing the post. She had one goal in mind: to lift the bucket as high as possible. It felt more like a game this way.

She started with only a few rocks, and Chat added more each time she lifted the bucket to the top. She had just hauled up the heaviest amount yet, and when she let go, the rope slid across her hands, right over a hole that had formed in her glove.

She cried out at the sudden pain and grabbed at her palm.

Chat rushed over. "What happened?"

She inspected her hand. Her skin through the hole was red, and she would probably have rope burn there. "There's a hole in my glove. The rope must have gotten me when I let go."

Chat clicked his tongue. "We can't have that. I have a few more exercises with the rope, so you need gloves." He pulled at his own. "Here," he held them out, "take these. We can get you a new pair on our way back through the Compound."

"Thanks," she said gratefully, and as she took the gloves from him, she noticed a glint on his finger. It was only for a moment, but it was long enough for her to see a silver ring on his right ring finger. He quickly retracted his hand.

She didn't want to think much of it, but that ring looked like it could be real silver. As she took her gloves off and put Chat's on, she contemplated bringing it up. Silver wasn't easy to come by, so if the ring was genuine, he probably had an interesting story behind it. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him put his hand in his pocket before taking it out again. She looked over, and his ring was gone.

"Are those gonna work?" he asked, and she looked up to meet his eyes.

"Yeah, I think so. They're a bit big, but that's okay."

Chat nodded and clapped his hands together. Her eyes shot to his empty finger again. "Alright, let's go to the next one, shall we?"

He took her to the zipline, where he had her hang and support her body weight for as long as possible. Then he took her to the climbing walls and had her climb the rope. She had a surprising amount of fun doing the exercises, but occasionally her mind would return to the ring.

She found it odd that he took it off. He wasn't doing anything hands-on right now, so it's not like losing it was a concern. It almost felt like he was hiding it, but Marinette dismissed these thoughts. It was just another one of the many mysteries that made up Chat Noir. By the time he brought her to the dreaded pullup bar, all thoughts of the silver ring were gone.

The royal guards opened the large ornate doors, bowing as Gabriel passed. He hardly acknowledged them. He walked briskly down The Hall of Portraits, the faces of past monarchs staring down at him from their paintings on the walls. He passed the first three Emerald Kings before his steps slowed. He glanced over at the bare wall where his wife's smiling face should be.

His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he picked up his pace again. They had used the portrait for her funeral, but afterward, it was somehow misplaced. The King made a weak effort to look for it, but it was never found. Gabriel couldn't imagine how a portrait of that size got lost when it never left the castle, but it was probably for the best. Otherwise, he would have to face her every single day, and he wasn't sure he could take that.

He rounded the corner, turning right and coming out into the main hallway that split the castle's upper level. Up ahead on the left were the giant double doors leading to the throne room, guarded by a tall and beefy royal soldier. Gabriel couldn't remember the man's actual name. Instead, he was called "The Gorilla," a nickname Adrien gave him when he was first assigned to be the young boy's bodyguard.

Gabriel quickly pushed thoughts of his son out of his mind.

He never wanted kids. Emilie did, but she respected his wishes and gave up her dream of a family for him. Gabriel was a cold and reserved man, but he and Emilie had a connection that surpassed anything he ever expected to get in life. She was his world, and they planned to spend the rest of their lives together, just the two of them.

That is, until Emilie's father suddenly passed away. Emilie was young, barely into her twenties, and completely unprepared to take the throne. Emilie's mother had died when she was young, and her father was actively searching for another woman to bear him a male heir. They thought the King had much more time left to have another kid, so nobody expected Emilie to ever become Queen, especially not Gabriel.

Not only did they lose most of the time they had together, but they also had to have a child, an heir. He was not thrilled, but Emilie was ecstatic. Two years after she ascended the throne, Emilie gave birth to a baby boy. He had her hair, her smile, and most importantly, her emerald eyes. Gabriel didn't care that the kid inherited nothing from him; as far as he knew, the boy was simply another requirement for Emilie to fulfill on her long list of royal duties. He wanted nothing to do with him.

The child added a new dynamic to their relationship, one that Gabriel was not happy with. Emilie had limited time for her personal life now, and whenever she did have free time, she spent it with her son. Gabriel hardly saw her without him when she wasn't working. The boy held the entirety of her attention at all times, leaving Gabriel more and more resentful towards the boy and the monarchy for destroying their marriage like this.

He tried to tolerate it. He kept telling himself that she was still learning how to balance her new obligations, and that's all the boy was, an obligation. Eventually, she would get used to her new role as Queen, and the boy would become old enough to take care of himself. Then things would finally go back to normal.

Over the next few years, the government started to settle down again. Emilie got better at managing her responsibilities, leaving her with more and more time to spare. Gabriel expected her to put time aside for them. They could use it to work on their marriage, maybe get back to where they used to be.

But what did she do? She took her son and snuck out of the castle, with no guard, no protection, and nobody to come find her if something happened.

When Gabriel found out, he was furious. They had their first big fight over it. She kept insisting that it was important for her to see her people, for Adrien to see them. Gabriel was having none of it. It was dangerous. There were people out there that would do anything to hurt her. It was risky enough to go out during the processions, even with thousands of guards there to protect her. She trusted her people too much, and no matter how hard he tried to convince her of the dangers of leaving the castle alone, she never listened. Eventually, he gave up trying to get through to her.

It was his biggest regret.

He remembered the day vividly. A storm was coming through Paris, and Emilie had yet to return. They kept her escapades into the villages a secret, but that day, Gabriel didn't care anymore. It was raining and getting dark, and he was done with her carelessness. He sent out troops to look for her, but nobody had any idea where she could be. Gabriel waited impatiently for the guard to return with her in tow. He imagined this would be the final straw, that once she realized she was inconveniencing everyone with these "visits," she would finally stop.

It was while he stood under the cover of the roof, just inside the castle doors, that he heard it. Whatever argument he was plotting in his head vanished immediately, his attention drawn to the soldiers coming through the gates far across the castle grounds. They walked along the path heading straight towards him, their heads hung, eyes downcast. The sound that drew his attention was coming from the small boy in the center of them all. Two soldiers tightly gripped his arms, and he was sobbing, trying desperately to turn around and look at something.

Gabriel's heart dropped when he saw the washed-out stain on the boy's shirt. He didn't think; he sped forward into the rain, jumping down the steps and onto the path. He sidestepped the soldiers reaching out to him. He passed the crying child, and he nearly fell to his knees at the sight before him.

Emilie laid in a large wooden wagon, dragged along as if she were discarded lumber. The wagon was filled with an inch of rainwater, dyed pink by the blood still leaking from her abdomen.

Gabriel's hands trembled as he reached them out and pulled them back repeatedly. He shook his head to himself, muttering words of denial as his eyes roamed over his wife. Her skin, once golden, was gray. Her hair that used to flow beautifully down her back was matted and tangled. He didn't notice Adrien break free and run towards the wagon, only to be restrained again. Gabriel's hands went to his hair as his breathing turned rapid.

He couldn't process it. Wave after wave of emotion crashed into him and carried his mind farther and farther out of his control. Something in him snapped, and suddenly he was filled with an intense rage. He lurched towards the soldier nearest to him. His arms swung randomly, his only mission to let out all of this anger, because at this point, it didn't matter whose fault it was. His wife was dead. She was forever gone from his life, and he had let it happen.

Gabriel reached the double doors, and The Gorilla turned and opened one for him, bowing as he passed.

The throne room was cavernous. A wide red rug with gold embroidery laid out in front of him, tall white pillars lining its sides. Magnificent windows spanned from floor to ceiling on the right and back walls, letting an abundance of natural light filter in. Decorative doors led off to the King's Chambers on the left wall, and at the end of the room was a lavishly decorated throne, the man seated in it indifferent to the luxuries surrounding him.

Felix had his head in his hand and his eyes closed. Before him were two people: his mother, Amelie, and General Gauthier. The General led the search for Emilie and was the one to bring back her body. After that, he became a key player in their "rearrangement" of the monarchy, and it wasn't long before he was promoted to head of the royal guard.

Gabriel came up next to Gauthier, who was listening to Amelie talk to her son. Amelie sounded very patronizing whenever she spoke, which was probably why Felix always appeared to be ignoring her.

"You called for me, Your Majesty?" Gabriel interrupted Amelie, and she shot him a glare.

Felix opened his eyes at the new voice and glanced over. "Not really." He indicated his mom with his chin. "She did."

Amelie let out a huff. "Because this is important, and you should have both of your advisors here to make this decision."

"What decision?" Gabriel asked.

Amelie raised her eyebrows at Gauthier. "General? Go on! Tell him."

Gauthier turned to Gabriel. "We had an incident this morning. A group of my guards came across some men on their patrol of the perimeter. There was an engagement, and two of my men were severely injured. Luckily, we heard the commotion and captured the intruders before they could escape."

Gabriel furrowed his eyebrows. "And why does this require my advisory?"

Gauthier hesitated. "We suspect they're revolutionaries, sir."

Gabriel's mouth dropped open, eyes wide with shock. "Revolutionaries? As in Chat Noir?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Gabriel," Amelie said with an eye roll.

"He might be right, ma'am," Gauthier said.

Amelie's gaze flicked to him. "Oh, please! Since when has Chat Noir ever been a threat?"

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at her. "Have you forgotten that he infiltrated the royal prison and took all of our prisoners?"

"Of course not, but that happened five years ago. What has he done since?"

"That's the concern. We don't know," Gabriel said, growing irritated. He'd had this argument with her many times before. "All we have are the sightings-"

"Ha! You really trust the sightings? There's no way Chat Noir is the only man in France who wears black! The sightings can't all be him, and I highly doubt any of them are him. He's probably just a commoner with a hero complex who wanted some attention. Everyone is blowing this way out of proportion."

"He broke into the royal prison. The most impenetrable place in this country! I would think you would be more concerned that he was still at large, especially considering what he may know."

Amelie's smug expression dropped, and she narrowed her eyes at Gabriel. "He knows nothing."

Gabriel felt a small satisfaction at finally getting to her. "We both know that's not true. He saw him, Amelie. His cell door was open, and he must have left with the rest of the prisoners."

"Then why hasn't he said anything?! It's been five years and there's been no word about it. If Chat Noir knew, and he was really building his revolution, then he would have told everyone! Chat Noir is a myth, and your son is just a coward who ran away and never turned back."

Gabriel's eye twitched. "He was Emilie's son, not mine."

Amelie quirked an eyebrow, crossing her arms and turning away. "It takes two to tango, Gabriel." She sighed loudly. "Either way, he's probably dead, so you don't have to worry about him anymore."

"And what makes you say that?"

"There have been no sightings of the King out and about, so obviously nobody has seen him. My guess is that Chat Noir took him and the rest of the prisoners and hid away somewhere, and then they probably starved. Simple as that."

"That's only your opinion. There's still a possibility-"

Felix slammed his hand down on his armrest, drawing everyone's attention. "Stop talking, both of you." He rubbed his temple and looked at Gauthier. "You need my orders?"

He nodded. "What would you like to do with the intruders?"

Amelie took a hurried step towards the throne. "Lock them away, never show them daylight again. Show them that no one tries to defy you, their suffering will pay for it."

"We should question them," Gabriel butted in. "If there's a possibility they're revolutionaries, we need to take this opportunity to get some information out of them-"

"There you go again! Questioning them will only make them feel important. We need to isolate them, make sure they know they've done nothing significant-"

"And what if they have? There's no way for you to know where they're from! You can't possibly believe this was just some random intrusion-"

"And you can't possibly believe Chat Noir sent them-"

"Kill them," Felix said simply.

All three of them sent shocked looks towards the throne. Felix stared back at them, face void of anything besides boredom.

Amelie stuttered for a response. "Honey, I don't think-"

"Was I not clear?" He glanced at his mother. "You're just an advisor, I don't have to listen to you." Amelie looked as if she was about to protest, but he continued. "Kill them all. Make it public." Felix let out a loud yawn. "You're dismissed."

Amelie looked downright offended. General Gauthier bowed before taking his leave. Gabriel surveyed Felix for a moment longer, saying nothing. He'd been in this position before; there was nothing he could say to change Felix's mind, so he wouldn't even try. Felix closed his eyes again and sighed heavily.

Amelie appeared to be composing herself. "Felix, I think you should reconsider."

Felix was unphased. He was used to his mother's controlling tendencies. "I don't care. Leave."

Amelie clenched her jaw. "Felix, I am your mother," she said, suppressed frustration evident in her voice.

He scoffed. "So what?"

"So," her voice was rising now, "you should listen to me when I-"

"Did we not already cover this?" He glared at her.

She motioned towards Gabriel. "You don't need to take your advisor's advice, but I'm your mother! Without me, you wouldn't be sitting there! The least you could do is-"

"What, let you dictate everything I do?! I'm on the throne, not you!"

Gabriel gave a small bow, knowing it would go unnoticed, before starting towards the double doors again, the sound of his echoing footsteps doing nothing to drown out the raging argument picking up behind him.

The next chapter is called "Broken"