Papillonne Noire's feet steadied themselves on an adjacent rooftop, but she was too late. The feather between Lila's fingers was already black with her dark power.
Fennello was spinning his yo-yo in front of them both like a shield, smirking. "Come on, Lila. Let's not fight. Just hand over the stone and we can part ways, no mess required."
Lila guffawed. "Give up already! Can't you both see this is where you meet your ends?"
Papillonne narrowed her eyes. Why was Lila acting so cocky? Surely she knew she didn't stand a chance? They had defeated every sentimonster she'd thrown their way.
"Oh. My. God! This is legendary!"
Papillonne's heart stopped. She knew that voice. Her eyes darted down and landed on Alya, standing on the balcony of Lila's apartment, her phone held high above her, her eyes swimming with stars as she was no doubt enthralled to find her heroes so unexpectedly close.
She wanted to shout to her friend, to entreat her to hide, because this was much too dangerous, but the words didn't come out fast enough. Lila was faster.
In the blink of an eye, Lila blew the feather, like a kiss, in Alya's direction. Alya didn't stand a chance.
Papillonne Noire could only watch as Alya froze, the feather sticking into the back of her neck. Her phone clattered to the ground, and she was instantly cocooned in blackness.
Lila giggled. "Good luck saving your best friend, Marinette," she emphasized, jumping backwards, vanishing among the rooftops.
But Papillonne couldn't move, couldn't give chase. All she could do was watch in horror, as the blackness around Alya's form grew larger and larger, until she was lost in the shape of a giant… butterfly.
The sentimonster rose high into the sky, beating its giant wings at them, sending the heroes flying, until Fennello caught his yo-yo against a lamppost and held them still against the bracing wind.
Papillonne Noire's mind was blank. How could she be expected to fight Alya? How could she rescue her closest friend?
Fennello looked at her and gasped. "Kitty, you're crying."
Her hands flew to her face, and the moisture there surprised even her.
Fennello pulled his yo-yo back, allowing them to be blown away until they fell onto a neighboring balcony, away from the malevolent wind. "It's going to be okay. How many victims have we rescued to date?"
Papillonne knew he was right, that there was nothing to fear. But all she could focus on was that they had successfully rescued all but one of the people that had fallen prey to Lila's feathers. Mme. Renault was still dead, and a sob escaped Papillonne's throat as she imagined them failing again, here and now. Imagining cradling Alya's limp head in her lap, desperately trying to scoop the blood back into her body, as though that would undo the cataclysm that would be all her own fault.
She might accidentally kill her friend.
"I — I can't!" Papillonne cried, her voice thick with tears.
Fennello put his hands on both of her shoulders. "Listen to me. Look at me, and listen." The expression on her partner's face had never been so serious, his voice had never been so scoldingly desperate.
The tears stopped flowing in her surprise. She had never seen Adrien like this.
"You're Papillonne Noire. You're the strongest you've ever been. If there is anything I'm sure of, it's that you can do this. This isn't day one anymore, okay?"
Papillonne tried to nod, tried to pull some courage from his words. She needed to get Alya out of that thing, away from Lila's evil influence. But when she looked above herself, and laid eyes on the giant butterfly, she froze.
How could she even try? How could she put Alya at risk like that?
She shook her head weakly. "I'm just so afraid," it came out in a whisper.
Fennello sighed and sat beside her, running a hand comfortingly against her back. Papillonne leaned into him and tried to rein in her spiraling thoughts. It did no good to fixate on those images, of Alya's body crumpled by cataclysm.
Fennello stared up at the sky, watching the sentimonster. "You know what? We don't even need to fight Alya. What we need is to go after Lila directly. If we steal her stone, she won't be able to control the sentimonster anymore. But if we stay here and try to rescue Alya, we're giving Lila more time to create another sentimonster."
"That's a good point." Papillonne gazed back up to the butterfly, which was gliding in curlicues, searching for where they'd disappeared to, relaxing significantly. She wouldn't have to face her friend in battle. What a relief.
With that, the gears in her mind began turning rapidly, a new plan forming. "How about this? I'll enhance your powers so that you can hold your own against the sentimonster, and I'll look for Lila. When I've found her, she'll think we've decided to divide and conquer. But then you ambush her."
Fennello nodded. "I think that would be the only way to surprise her. I'll tail you ever so slightly."
Papillonne nodded as well, but more to herself than to him. If they wanted to one-up Lila, this was their only hope.
Papillonne thought Lila would be difficult to find. She scoured every rooftop, every alley, every crevice in which she could be hiding, trying to ignore the heartbeat pounding in her ears, finally able to breathe now that she was away from Alya, now that her friend was no longer in danger. Fennello would do her no harm; Papillonne had simply given him faster reflexes, so that he could more easily dodge the sentimonster's sharp wings.
When Papillonne finally found her, Lila was standing on her apartment's rooftop, just waiting for her adversary. "No Fennello?"
Papillonne shook her head. "We decided to divide and conquer."
Lila looked smug. "Well, that makes my job easier."
Papillonne let out an even breath, trying not to smile. Lila didn't suspect them. Thank goodness.
There was a beat, as each woman simply looked the other down. But in the same instant, Papillonne elongated her baton, trying to trip Lila, as Lila fluttered her fan, blowing a gust into Papillonne's face, making her squint.
Lila fluttered faster, the wind blew harder, and Papillonne remembered her wings. She caught them against the breeze, allowing it to lift her up, sending herself hurtling down toward Lila, her hand outstretched, reaching for the ring on Lila's finger.
Lila ducked at the last moment, but not without scowling in surprise. Lila's cockiness was really getting to Papillonne Noire, so she decided to taunt her. "Not so easy to defeat me, is it?"
Lila just growled, pulling her fist back, but Papillonne saw that punch coming from miles away. She ducked expertly. "You know, while you've been getting others to do your dirty work, I've been learning how to fight. So, thanks for the training!"
Papillonne whipped out her cane, knocking Lila's fan from her hands. But Lila was also swift; as Papillonne bent down to pull the ring from Lila's finger, Lila was already diving to regain her fan.
Papillonne started to groan, but Fennello hopped down, surprising her, landing on Lila's other side. There was a cataclysm prepped on his hand, and Papillonne was momentarily confused, before she realized this must be an illusion, and the real Fennello must still be fighting the sentimonster.
"You're surrounded. I think it's time to give up. Or should I cataclysm you?" Fennello wiggled his eyebrows.
Lila simply rolled her eyes. "Please. I know an illusion when I see one." And she easily kicked out a foot, knowing that once she made contact with the illusion, it would vanish.
But to both her and Papillonne's surprise, Lila's foot hit Fennello's shin, but he remained there.
Lila staggered for a moment, trying to understand what she was seeing. Papillonne was trying to make eye contact with her partner. What was going on?
He grinned at Papillonne. "My partner was kind enough to bestow her cataclysm powers on me."
As he spoke, the sentimonster caught up with them, flying over the roof, its wings buffeting the heroes. Papillonne noticed that Lila stood, immune to the sentimonster's powers.
But as Lila was busy smirking over her own immunity, she didn't hear Papillonne mutter under her breath. "Cataclysm," she whispered, that familiar energy hopping into her palm.
Fennello was clever; he himself was real, but the black power in his hand was the illusion. Doubtless, if he touched something, it would vanish.
A plan hatched itself in Papillonne's mind. She just hoped Fennello would understand her. "I'm powerless now without my cataclysm! I didn't trust myself to not accidentally kill my best friend, so I gave it to Fennello. He's not as clumsy as I am." But her right hand was still deftly hidden behind herself.
Lila turned over her shoulder, shaking her head at Papillonne, who was doing her best to look weak and pathetic. "You heroes are so idiotic. You do understand how much easier it will be to get rid of you without your powers?"
Papillonne took her mind back into that place, pictured herself with Mme. Renault, trying to feel the sting of failure again. Those tears pricked the backs of her eyes, and so she chose that moment to say it. "I would rather lose to you than lose Alya," and her voice broke on the name, perfectly convincing.
Lila liked hearing that, her pride making her unable to see the ruse. "If only I'd known earlier!" Her eyes closed as she laughed, and Papillonne's gaze flew to Fennello's. He nodded.
"Well, that day is not today! Cataclysm!" Fennello ran right at Lila, his arm outstretched, and just as Papillonne had hoped, the sentimonster dove between them, protecting Lila from impending death.
Fennello's cataclysm made contact with the butterfly, and Lila laughed, and Papillonne shouted, as loud as she could, as frantically choked as she could manage, "NO!"
"YES!" Lila yelled back.
Papillonne collapsed to the ground, sobbing loudly.
Lila sauntered over to Papillonne, too focused on her victory to realize that her sentimonster was indeed, still flying. "Come on, Marinette. Your friend is dead. It's time to give in, time to give me your miracle stones." She stood over her, bending down to leer, close enough to touch.
Papillonne Noire nodded, slowly pulling her hand from behind her back, trying to draw it out, trying to take Lila off-guard…
Just as Lila might have been able to see the power there in Papillonne's palm, she launched her hand forward, striking like a snake, trying to catch any part of Lila that she could manage before the other girl realized that she was in danger.
The cataclysm brushed against Lila's shoe, discharging as soon as contact was made. Lila stumbled back, but it was too late. The power was no longer in Papillonne Noire's palm, and Lila was rapidly turning dark purple.
"What? NO—!" she began to scream, but it got swallowed as she became a black statue, fragile enough to break into pieces at the slightest touch.
Papillonne Noire stood slowly, regarding Lila, frozen in an eternal cry. Well, maybe not so eternal. Papillonne pushed her finger into Lila's chest, and she completely disintegrated, the pieces blowing away with the gentle wind from the butterfly sentimonster's wings.
The ring popped off her finger, falling to the rooftop and rolling towards Fennello, stopping against his toe.
The heroes could only stare at it for a moment. As it came to a stop, the sentimonster vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving Alya unconscious in its place.
Papillonne immediately snapped out of it, running to her friend, heart racing. They hadn't used the unlucky charm this time. What if that had been the key, and without it, Alya was gone?
Papillonne Noire couldn't turn Alya over fast enough. But when the black feather was there, and Papillonne gently extracted it, she let out a sigh of relief.
Alya blinked dazedly. "What… where am I?"
But she didn't get an answer, only Papillonne's arms pulling her into a tight, desperate embrace. She could feel her eyes sting with tears once more. There had been a chance that Alya may not have made it out of this battle, there had been the possibility that something could have happened to her. Papillonne tightened her grip. She didn't like Alya being so endangered.
"You were turned into a sentimonster. But you're safe now." Fennello smiled down at her.
Papillonne abruptly remembered that she wasn't supposed to know Alya. She pulled out of the hug, trying to come up with a good excuse for her reaction, but her mind was in a relieved fog. "I'm — I'm glad you're okay, Mlle," she confessed stiffly, avoiding looking into Alya's eyes, in case the emotion in them gave her away. "Fennello and I didn't use our usual methods, and I… was just worried, is all."
But to her surprise, Alya threw her arms around Papillonne's neck. "Thank you for saving me, Kitty Noire."
Papillonne let herself melt into the hug, so happy that her friend was okay. So happy that she wouldn't be in danger ever again. "It was my pleasure."
When Alya pulled away, allowing herself to be helped up, she suddenly grew sheepish. "Um, would it be crazy to ask if I could interview the two of you for my blog?"
Fennello and Papillonne exchanged a glance. "Sure, but not today. I think we have some important post-battle business to attend to now," he offered, probably because he knew she could never say no to Alya.
"Oh my God! Thank you so much!"
They took Alya back to the party, pretended to fly away, but then looped back, sneaking in through Lila's open bedroom window.
Papillonne detransformed and collapsed into Fennello's arms. He caught her, pulling her into a tender embrace and petting her head. "You did amazingly back there."
She could only nod, completely drained. They had defeated Lila, rescued Alya. They did it. The truth of it rang in her ears, pumped in her blood. She should be happy, theoretically.
But now, Lila was dead.
"What's going to happen to the party? Lila's never coming back."
Fennello shook his head. "That's really what you're thinking about right now?"
Marinette sighed, sitting down on Lila's bed, her gaze catching on the pattern of the sheets. A dead girl's bed, a dead girl's sheets. An evil dead girl, sure, but still a girl that Marinette had killed.
"Maybe she disappeared, does it really matter? What matters is that we have the miracle stone."
At his words, Marinette's head popped up. She had forgotten all about it. Which was ridiculous, considering that was the point of… everything. "Can I see it?"
Fennello unzipped his pocket and pulled it out, putting it in her hand. Marinette turned it over with her fingers. The ultramarine gem was truly beautiful.
Nooroo emerged from Marinette's purse. "We should get this stone to one of the guardians immediately. It's not good for you to carry more than two stones at once."
Marinette knew this. Yes, the stone did entreat her to wear it, but… somehow it was easy to resist. She didn't actually want to put it on, she didn't want to know what its power would feel like. It had been Lila's, after all, and Marinette didn't want to wear a gem she'd wielded. Besides, hadn't the professor said it was cursed? She didn't know what that really meant. Maybe she'd go bad if she slipped it on.
She handed it back to Fennello, who tucked it safely into his pocket, detransforming into Adrien afterwards. He joined her on the edge of the bed.
Wordlessly, Marinette leaned into Adrien, catching her lips against his. He read her intentions and pulled her into a kiss, and Marinette let herself dissolve into his touch. She needed to stop thinking about the fight, about Lila, about the miracle stones, about everything.
Sunday morning brought a meeting with Fu. Adrien and Marinette agreed a weekend office hours trip would be less suspect than any other place to meet.
Fennello fished out the miracle stone, placing it into Fu's open palm. He nodded, taking the ring to his desk and dropping it into a bowl full of clear liquid.
Like ink dripping into water, the darkness started to seep out of the ring.
"What's that?" Marinette asked.
"A cleansing solution. I prepared it last night when you texted me the news."
She and Adrien drew a little closer, watching the purifying liquid pull the darkness from the miracle stone.
Fu sat back in his desk chair. "I must say, excellent work, you two. You've freed Paris from evil."
Adrien's hand reached for Marinette's, squeezing it with pride. She met his eyes, grinning. That they did. And she was so happy that they had done it together.
"However, there are only three guardians, and seven stones. It would be unfair for me to choose only one of you to be the guardian of the peacock."
Marinette and Adrien exchanged a glance. It would fine if Professor Fu chose Adrien to be the guardian; she didn't need to be the one.
A rock formed in her stomach as she thought about that, though. So Fu intended to take his own stones back. Of course. They were his, after all. He was merely loaning them out. But thinking about a future without Plagg made Marinette's shoulders fall. Maybe Fu would let her visit…
She started to slip off her ring, to hand it back to her professor.
"Marinette, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Fu interrupted, and she stopped, confused. "Because I've decided to keep the peacock. You two have earned your place in the Order of Guardians."
Marinette could do nothing but blink. Was… Was he saying what she thought he was?
"So… I get to stay with Tikki?" Adrien managed to voice first.
Fu nodded sagely. "That miracle stone is now yours to protect. And I do not doubt that protect it you will, with everything you have."
Tikki dived out from Adrien's shirt pocket, nuzzling his cheek as he cupped her there. "Thank you, professor!"
Marinette opened her purse excitedly, and Plagg floated up to her eye level. "It's been a great adventure having you as my wielder, Marinette. I'm glad it doesn't have to end here."
Marinette sighed happily, holding Plagg in her hands. "I'm glad, too."
Both Nooroo and Trixx phased into the room, joining Tikki and Plagg, to watch as Fu pulled the peacock stone from the cursed liquid. He wiped it gently with a tissue, and allowed it to slip over his finger. The ring changed shape, glowing bright blue before the kwami inside appeared.
"Fu! Oh, I'm so grateful to be back! That girl was truly wicked, I didn't feel like myself anymore, but now I feel amazing!" The peacock kwami flew in circles around the room, her bubbling excitement hard to contain.
"Duusu, tell us what happened."
She stopped flying, landing on Fu's desk. Marinette thought her coloring was beautiful, and her peacock feather tail was adorable. Why were all kwamis so cute?
"One moment, I was with Mme. Bustier, and the next I felt so ill, and this awful girl was using me to do evil things," her little antennae drooped.
"You were cursed, Duusu, but you're safe now." Fu reached over, caressing her head with a finger.
She leaned into his touch. "Oh! What a relief!" After a moment, though, she perked up, looking around the room. "Where is Caline?"
Fu's shoulders fell. "No longer with us, I'm afraid."
Duusu let out a crestfallen squeak, crumpling.
Marinette hung her head, and the whole room fell into silence. They had succeeded, but their success couldn't take away the pain of that loss.
The first order of business was to return Nooroo and Trixx to M. Ramier. They said their goodbyes as they left Fu's office, dropping the rings into a small paper bag.
M. Ramier was waiting for them at the park outside of the university, just as Fu had arranged for.
"Here's some birdseed for you, M. Ramier. We thought you might need it for the pigeons." Marinette handed the bag over to him, smiling lightly.
"Oh! My dear pigeons! Did you hear that? I have some extra treats for you!" He cooed dimwittedly to the birds around them.
Marinette and Adrien waved as they left, hand-in-hand.
"Well, what now?" Adrien asked.
Marinette could only shake her head, her shoulders light for the first time in months. "Whatever we want."
In the coming days, Kitty Noire and Coccinello gave Alya the interview she had asked for.
"So, are you guys still going to be heroes?" Alya asked, and Kitty Noire decided this was the moment to be honest with the world.
"No. This will be our last public appearance. The monsters have been defeated, and so we no longer have a reason to scout for danger. But we have loved being your heroes."
Alya lowered the camera into her lap. "Really?" she asked softly, looking right into Kitty Noire's eyes, imploring her to give a different answer.
But Kitty looked at Coccinello. They could finally be together in a way apart from curious eyes and crazy fans. Why would they ever go back to that unless they had to?
"Really," Kitty breathed. "But," she continued, returning her gaze to Alya, "we will always be right here, in Paris. You just won't recognize us anymore."
Alya nodded, wiping a tear away with a finger.
In addition to their university classes, Marinette and Adrien now had mandatory guardian lessons.
Sometimes they'd be sprawled on the floor of Fu's office, books piled around them, Marinette trying to decipher a paragraph from the grimoire that Adrien had already translated. The guardian code made her head hurt to learn, but she knew it was necessary. If anything happened to Fu, God forbid, it would be her responsibility to know this stuff.
Other times they'd be seated on Mme. Lenoir's sofa, a plate of butter cookies and lemonade glasses on the coffee table beside the tomes. Adrien would be trying to perfect the magical potions that Marinette had already successfully brewed, getting frustrated as he accidentally misread sugar as salt. The liquid turned lime green, instead of bright purple. His shoulders fell, but Marinette and Mme. Lenoir helped him prep the ingredients to do it over, and he smiled when Tikki gave him a reassuring cuddle.
One day, after one such escapade, Adrien asked, "How were the miracle stones created, anyway?"
Plagg and Tikki nodded at one another, and Plagg began speaking. "We kwamis are the oldest creatures in the universe. It's our power that allows things to stay in balance. The Grand Mage, as he would become known as, discovered us —"
"Discovered you," Tikki interjected.
Plagg sighed, nodding. "Yes, discovered me. But I couldn't help myself. He had left some of his milk out to culture, and I just had to have some. He found me eating the world's first cheese, and well, we hit it off."
Tikki crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at his impertinence, but she smiled as he continued to speak.
"The Grand Mage worked tirelessly to make the magical jewels that you wear on your fingers even now. He documented his discoveries in his journal, in a code that he had created — the guardian's code. When the gems were ready, he asked me to try them out. Being unified with the Grand Mage was an amazing experience, and we worked together to try and discover a way to use my powers safely. At first, it was only Tikki and me, but soon all of the kwamis had a magical jewel in which they chose to reside, and the Grand Mage became the first guardian."
Tikki elaborated. "Eventually, whenever something dangerous arose — be it war, or some darker type of magic, the Grand Mage and his disciples used our powers to defend his kingdom and all that could compromise his discovery. And that's how it continued, for the rest of time. Humans became able to protect themselves, and we became able to use our powers."
Marinette's brow furrowed. "But why would you need the mages to be able to use your powers?"
"Our powers are so strong, that without a vessel to dilute them, we could never use them or else risk throwing the universe out of balance!" Tikki explained. "The Grand Mage allowed us to reach our full potential without destroying the world."
"Wow," Marinette breathed, trying to imagine what the Grand Mage must have been like. Devoting his life to magic. Not too different than she was, in the end.
"Alright, the history lesson is over. Marinette, I think it's your turn to make the next magic potion." Mme. Lenoir refilled their lemonades and Marinette tried not to sigh as she turned the page in the ancient book. But suddenly, reading the guardian's code and assembling the ingredients didn't seem so banal anymore. Instead she could only think of the Grand Mage, discovering these recipes, creating them, in a time too far away to fathom.
Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it), Chloé's birthday was the following weekend, and she extended an invitation to Marinette.
"See, I don't think Chloé hates you," Adrien assured her. "She went to all this trouble even though she knew I would bring you anyway."
Marinette frowned. The glitzy pink party invite — with her own name etched across the front, in impeccable calligraphy — leered at her. So Chloé hand-wrote her an invitation. Did she do it because she genuinely wanted Marinette there? Or because, as Adrien said, she knew she'd be there anyway, and might as well include her on the guest list?
Marinette groaned, tucking the floral-scented card back into the envelope. She knew she'd end up going, if only for Adrien.
Once they were there, at Le Grand Paris Hôtel, among all the other socialites Chloé had invited, dread began to pool in Marinette's gut. Why was she here? She didn't fit in at all.
As they walked among the throng, Adrien saying hello and waving and shaking hands, Marinette stayed at his side, trying to shrink, trying to be as small as possible.
"Happy birthday, Chlo," he grinned and embraced his old friend, the belle of the ball. Chloé's dress was a slinky, glittery black number, and she even had matching gloves and a hat. Her hair was curled to perfection. Marinette had to admit to herself that she looked lovely.
She held him tightly. "Thank you, and thank you for coming!"
He nodded, pulling away to bring Marinette into the conversation. All she could do was smile and wave politely. "Thanks for inviting me."
To Marinette's surprise, Chloé's eyes lit up. "Oh, Marinette! You made it! And wow, your dress is stunning!"
Marinette looked down at herself, as if to ascertain that they were both seeing the same dress. It was just a lavender satin cocktail piece, nothing like the designer dress Chloé was assuredly wearing. "Um, thanks," she managed, too stunned for eloquence.
At that moment, Adrien perked up, waving his arms and calling loudly to someone across the room. "Ali! Ali! Over here!"
Marinette turned to see a dignified-looking young man hurrying toward them, and didn't have time to prepare for Ali to jump into a hug with Adrien. The two men clapped one another on the back, and Adrien enthused, his eyes bright, "I had no idea you'd be here! Are you staying in Paris?"
Ali shook his head. "No, I'm just here for Chloé, it's the least I could do."
Marinette's shoulders fell as Chloé bubbled over the young man, and the conversation became something she couldn't possibly join in on. She should have brought Alya along as her plus-one, just so she'd have someone else to talk to, but she hadn't wanted to subject her friend to Chloé for her sake.
"Ali, this is my girlfriend, Marinette," Adrien said, pulling her from her reverie.
Marinette nodded, putting out her hand to shake.
"It's a pleasure!" Ali grinned at her, and Marinette was winded by how bright, how genuine that grin was. Ali really meant it, it was indeed a pleasure.
"L—Likewise," she spluttered.
"Marinette, this is Ali. He went to high school with Chloé and me. You could say we were best friends," he said with a laugh.
"The three of us were always getting into some trouble or other," Chloé joined in their reminiscence.
"Oh, that's right!" Ali brightened, although Marinette wasn't sure how. The kid seemed to have an endless supply of energy. "Adrien, I've been meaning to introduce you," he gestured over to the other side of the hall, where he'd been standing when Adrien had called him over.
"I'll be right back," Adrien assured Marinette before following his friend's lead. Which left Marinette alone. With Chloé.
They watched the men disappear into the crowd, and Marinette's shoulders fell.
"How are you enjoying the party, so far?" Chloé asked, all friendliness.
Marinette's eyebrows came together, and her gaze fell to the floor. Chloé could have made her excuses, left Marinette by herself, gone to fraternize with her other guests — it was her party after all — but she was still here, trying to make small talk.
Why?
"It's alright. I feel a little strange, to be honest."
"Why is that?" She cocked her head.
"I just…" Marinette looked back up at the girl who'd starred in all her angriest daydreams last year, and decided to say it. "I don't understand the change. When we lived together, you were nothing but vicious to me and Alya. And now… it's like you're a different person. I'm just trying to follow along, trying to figure out what happened."
Chloé's expression fell, her arms moved to wrap about herself. "You're right. I'm sorry for being such a terrible roommate to you."
Marinette blinked a few times. An apology? Right off the bat, without any wheedling or excuses? Who was this girl?
"Um… yeah," Marinette continued. "I just don't understand how you thought we were on good terms when you stole my dress and used it to get the internship I wanted, right out from under me. It wasn't nice, and you never apologized for it."
Chloé said nothing, just continued to stare at the marble flooring.
Spurred on by her silence, Marinette kept going. "I want to look past this, I really do. Because you're Adrien's friend, and… I want to like who Adrien likes, be friends with Adrien's friends…"
"I was jealous," Chloé breathed out abruptly.
"Of?"
Chloé exhaled deeply. "Of you, dummy. You're so talented, and driven. And I'm none of those things. All I know how to be is demanding. If I ask for something, I get it. I never have to work hard. And you might think that sounds like a dream, but for once I wanted to feel like I'd earned something, like I deserved the accolades I received."
Marinette sighed. Even though she was finally being honest, it was still so Chloé. As though stealing another person's work equalled you earning their awards.
"If you want, I can get in touch with my people, get you a spot in my department —"
She broke off when Marinette shook her head. "I already have a design internship. And anyway, it's just as you said. I don't want a position if I haven't earned it."
Chloé's whole body seemed to sag in shame. "I know," she whispered.
Seeing her like this — so pitiful, without the regal aura — pulled at Marinette's heart strings, despite herself. She didn't want to forgive Chloé. But she also had never seen her look so sorry in her life.
Marinette noticed Adrien starting to make his way back to them. She sighed, not wanting him to witness this, and said the words she knew would make Chloé feel better, even if she didn't quite mean them. It was her birthday, after all, and Marinette wanted Chloé to have a good time. "Look. I forgive you. Kind of," she added when Chloé perked up in disbelief. "Maybe we should make an effort to understand and respect one another, going forward. For his sake," she gestured with her head in Adrien's direction.
Chloé nodded fiercely, straightening up. "Thank you. It's more than I deserve."
And, to her surprise, Marinette found that the smile she gave Chloé was genuine. She hadn't forgiven Chloé, but maybe she would someday.
Marinette's heart raced as she clutched the handle to the door of the Parisian Design House.
Adrien and Alya followed her inside, heading to the showroom. Today the bowler hats would be judged, and one person would emerge, victorious. Marinette wasn't sure she'd ever been this nervous before.
"I'm sure your hat will astound the judges," Alya tried to reassure her. But would that be enough? What if another hat was even more astounding?
As they settled into their seats, Marinette's phone went off. She quickly moved to silence it, but the contact on her screen read "Maman."
Under other circumstances, Marinette would let it go to voicemail. But… now that she was no longer Kitty Noire, now that she wasn't keeping secrets anymore, she felt ridiculous to ignore it.
"I'm gonna take this. Let me know when they start," she whispered to Adrien, who nodded in surprise as she stepped out of the room and into the refreshment hall.
"Hello, Maman," Marinette said into the receiver, and for once she was relieved to be saying it.
"Marinette! It's so good to hear from you!"
She sighed. "I'm sorry I've been so bad at keeping in touch, I… It's been a crazy few months. But things are back to normal now."
"What kind of crazy?" her father asked, and Marinette shook her head.
"School, work, my internship, my love life… all of it has changed so much since the beginning of the school year. But… I'm happy, and I promise I'll be better at calling."
"Oh, sweetheart, we didn't realize… You know you can always come to us, to talk about anything. You never have to feel overwhelmed about sharing anything with us." Her mother.
Marinette tried not to let that work her up. She knew her mother meant what she said, that there was nothing too big or small for Marinette to bring to them. The conviction in her words moved Marinette, and she wished so badly that it could have been true. That she could have confided in them, that things could have been different.
"I know. But it's over now," was all she said, running the back of her hand over her eyes.
Adrien came into the room at that moment, gesturing for her to return.
"Um, I'm sorry, I've got to go, they're about to announce the winners of the hat contest."
"Oh! Already? Best of luck!" her mother called.
"We're so proud of you," her father echoed.
"Thank you," Marinette breathed, trying to rein her tears in. "I'll call you back when it's over."
The line went dead, and Marinette's nerves jumped back into her stomach, full-force. Although when she was seated in between Adrien and Alya, and Hera was bringing out the hatboxes for the judging panel, Marinette felt some of that anxiety drain. She could speak with her parents again, and that was already a victory.
One by one, Hera removed the lids from the hatboxes. The first hat was Ronaldo's — he had stuck with the flamingo design, and it looked completely fabulous. Carnation pink everywhere, in tulle, boa feathers, and ribbon, complete with a neck in the front and a popped leg in the back. The judges gasped and cooed.
The second hat was Mireille's, the swan. It wasn't as impressive as Ronaldo's, but still sleek and refined, white everywhere, with a touch of orange.
The following hat was her own, and Marinette sunk further into her seat as the judges ogled and oohed over her pigeon-inspired design. Alya elbowed her excitedly, but Marinette didn't want to let herself get too wired up.
The other hat that received much attention from the panel was Théo's. His penguin design was exquisite, with felt to mimic the soft fur-like feathers of the creatures.
The judges took some time to look over all the hats, sending the attendees to the refreshment tables in the adjacent room, letting them enjoy the snacks, or — in Marinette's case — letting them shove finger sandwiches into their mouths to avoid thinking about what was happening behind that closed door.
"Relax, it's gonna be okay. Even if you don't win, I have no doubt you'll make at least third place. Against thirty hats, that's still something to be proud of." Alya asserted between sips of punch.
"How can you be so sure?" Marinette's shoulders were practically up to her ears.
"Because your hat is phenomenal."
Adrien put his hand on Marinette's shoulder, trying to get her to relax. "I know a thing or two about fashion, and I also thought your hat looked spectacular. Please stop being so tense, my love," he assured her softly.
The doors reopened, and the attendees began returning to their seats. Marinette followed, but she couldn't share Alya's and Adrien's confidence. Yes, her hat had been well-received. But was it one of the best? There was no way she could win. Everything else in her life was suddenly going so well, thanks to their victory against Lila. So what would be the likelihood of this going well, too?
Once everyone had taken their seats, Hera walked to the podium. "After much debate, the judges have unanimously decided on three winners for this year's hat contest.
"In third place, M. Ronaldo Girroult, with his flamingo hat!"
The crowd erupted into applause, and Ronaldo stood from his place a few seats down from her. He grinned and bowed, and Marinette clapped harder. He had supported her unwaveringly ever since her first day interning, and she was so thankful for him, and so proud that he had won this. He deserved it.
Once the crowd had quietened, Hera cleared her throat. "For second place, M. Théo Barbot, for his penguin hat!"
Théo jumped up, his face nothing but shock. Marinette hollered, her hands starting to hurt now from such ferocious clapping. Théo's hat had been her favorite, and she was so pleased that everyone else seemed to love it as well.
After that loud round of applause, Hera grinned as she stalled reading the first place winner.
Marinette's stomach tightened. This was it. Either she had won this, or she had lost completely. Her heart started to sink. Probably the latter. Her hat wasn't better than Théo's, so there was no way. But she wasn't unhappy — she was so proud of the winners, and knew that whoever Hera called would be just as deserving.
"In first place, Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng! For her pigeon hat!"
The crowd burst into cheers and loud applause, and it took Marinette a moment to realize that this was reality, that she hadn't dreamed her name being called.
Alya had to pull her out of her seat, but once she was standing, the cheering grew louder. All Marinette could do was put her hands over her face in shock, her eyes pricking with tears, her legs shaking with adrenaline.
When she finally sat back down — and Alya hugged her tightly, whispered, "I knew you could do it!" — and Adrien gave her a light kiss, told her, "I love you, Marinette," — she finally allowed herself to really accept that she had done it.
She had defeated their enemy, she had retrieved the lost miracle stone, and even though Mme. Bustier would never know, at least Duusu could be happy again, in the safe hands of Professor Fu.
She had gotten to stay with Plagg, gotten to join the Order of Guardians.
She had won Adrien's heart after all, and had strengthened her friendship with Alya, and had sorted things out with her parents, and had even gotten past her anger at Chloé.
And now, she had won the bowler hat contest. Which meant the opportunity to become a real designer under the Parisian Design House, not just an intern any longer.
She had done it all, and that truth settled into all her broken and cracked pieces, filling them like a warm, golden glue.
"Thank you," she whispered, to no one in particular, before bursting into elated tears.
She had done it.