CHAPTER FIVE:
GIVE AND TAKE
Morning in Nottingham brought the happy twitter of birds on the rooftops. Not a single cloud was to be seen in the brightening sky.
Friar Fu considered that a good omen as he slipped out of Nottinghill Church like a man who didn't want to be followed.
He had finished with his morning prayers earlier and asked Ivan, one of his young acolytes, to ring the bell for him while he took a stroll into town. Behind the priest, the proud chimes rang like a proclamation from God... perhaps with a little too much enthusiasm.
Friar Fu grinned. Sometimes too much enthusiasm was a good thing, especially during these bleak times.
There once was a time when the Friar had a skip in his step whenever he visited the locals. Everyone was always happy to see him, and they welcomed the new day with a smile on their faces.
But that was before Princess Chloe took control of her brother's kingdom; before she taxed the people of Nottingham so heavily, they forgot what it was like to smile. They tried their best to keep their hopes up whenever Friar Fu came by, but it was always an effort.
As he passed the town square, Friar Fu saw an old woman feeding spoonfuls of soup to her husband, who was chained into one of the stocks littering the green courtyard. Two other men were hunched over in those contraptions as well, with a sign over their heads that read, "Tax Dodgers".
All of this troubled Friar Fu greatly. He wanted to see the stocks empty for a change. He wanted the courtyard to be a place of laughter and life, not misery and shame.
Well, one old man couldn't do much for an entire town. But maybe one young girl could.
That same girl was the reason why Friar Fu was hastening down the street this morning.
Friar Fu checked over his shoulder, his grey-bearded chin firm. One always had to be careful here in Nottingham. That scoundrel Sheriff Roger and his dimwitted cohorts were always keeping their eyes and ears open for their next catch.
Once he was assured he wasn't being followed, Friar Fu continued on his merry way until he entered the local forge.
Otis the Blacksmith was already hard at work, pounding a gleaming-hot rod onto the anvil with his trusty hammer. Sweat coated his dark skin, and his brown beard stuck out in all directions. Strong and muscular as he was, Otis was still old and worn out. To make matters worse, he was a cripple. He broke his ankle earlier that spring when he fell into a mud ditch while pushing a wheelbarrow of wood. Now Otis had to limp around on a crutch with his foot in a cast.
But if there was one thing the blacksmith had, it was stubbornness – a trait his daughter, Alya, no doubt inherited from him.
The clash of metal on metal was harsh on Friar Fu's ears, and he smiled with a wince as he walked over to his friend.
Otis looked up at him, his brown eyes catching the glow of the iron rod before him. His face was kind. "Well, hey there, Friar Fu!" he called as he straightened up. "Good mornin'!"
The old priest quickly shushed him, putting a finger to his lips. Then he said in a calm whisper, "I have something for you, Otis – from your daughter."
The blacksmith's face became the face of a desperate father. He carefully placed his tools down, wiped himself off with a rag, and hopped over to the monk. "Is she safe?" he breathed.
Friar Fu nodded. He reached into the pocket of his brown robe and pulled out a jingling pouch that weighed heavily in his hand, along with a folded piece of paper.
Otis snatched up the paper first, unfolded it, and read the short but neat handwriting upon it:
Hope this helps. We're both doing fine. Don't worry. I love you a ton.
No name or signiture. Outlaws were always careful.
Otis's eyes softened, and he let out a deep sigh. "Heaven help me, Friar," he said drearily, "I miss that girl. I want her to come home somethin' fierce. But I know... I know she'd rather be out there fightin' than in here doin' nothin'." The blacksmith shook his head with a half-hearted laugh. "Her mother would be proud. God bless that child. Her and Ladybug both."
Friar Fu patted him on the shoulder. "Have faith, my friend," he murmured with a warm smile. "Alya will be home sooner than you think."
Otis nodded before accepting the bag of gold. "I'm just... I'm glad she's not alone, you know? That Marinette girl, or Ladybug... Bah! Who cares what she calls herself these days? She's her father's daughter. I guess they both are, yeah?"
The monk chuckled. "Indeed they are."
A hard knock rattled the door, making both men jump.
Friar Fu's brow tightened. Only one person pounded on a neighbour's door like he owned the town. "It's the Sheriff!" he hissed to Otis. "Hide it – quick!"
After about a minute, and a few more knocks, a beefy voice sang from outside, "Here I come, ready or not!"
The door creaked open, and Sheriff Roger stepped inside. His belly protruded so enormously, it was a miracle the shirt of his blue uniform was still holding it all up.
Friar Fu observed the Sheriff, his hands clasped within his broad sleeves. Otis started hammering away again as though nothing happened.
"Greetings from your favourite tax collector!" Roger boasted, lifting his arms and dipping his head. "Mornin' Otis. Friar."
"Sheriff," Fu acknowledged coolly. He prayed the fat podge wouldn't try to make a scene in here, especially with a man of the Church present.
Otis wiped the sweat off his brow like he had been long and hard at work since dawn (which he actually had). "Ah, take it easy on me today, would ya, Sheriff?" he grumbled. "With my foot and all, I'm way behind in my work, you see."
Roger shrugged with a sneer. "I know, Otis, but you're way behind on your taxes too. And you know our beloved Princess Chloe would be heartbroken if one of her hard-workin' vassels didn't offer any tribute."
Friar Fu scowled. Beloved? If princesses were chosen by the people, then Ladybug would be on the throne instead of that greedy Chloe.
"Oh, Sheriff, have a heart," the old monk scolded softly. "Can't you see the poor man's laid up?"
He walked over to the rocking chair in the corner of the forge – the one a nice neighbour had lent Otis so he could take some weight off his foot while he recovered.
"Come over here, Otis, and rest up a bit," Friar Fu said to his friend. He hoped ignoring the overbearing Sheriff would get him to leave.
Otis sighed with relief and grabbed his wooden crutch. "Why, thank you, Friar," he said as he hobbled over to his chair, step by step.
Clink! Clink! Clink!
Friar Fu winced, but he tried not to show the distress on his face.
Sadly, Roger was staring at Otis's casted foot instead, and he bore an excited grin.
The moment the blacksmith sat down, Roger strode over. "Here, Otis. Let me give you a hand with that heavy foot."
The Sheriff leaned down and hoisted the foot up high – very high. So high that the back of Otis's chair was practically touching the floor.
"Sheriff...!" Friar Fu blurted out.
Roger stuck his hand beneath the top opening of the cast... just as a big handful of gold coins came pouring out.
Friar Fu felt the anger rise in his blood. How dare he violate an injured man?! he thought with clenched teeth.
The Sheriff chuckled through his nose, snorting a bit. "Oh, what you clever shenanigans won't come up with next," he mused. He then pounded on the bottom of Otis's foot.
The blacksmith howled in pain as the last coin fell into Roger's hand.
The Sheriff smirked and dropped Otis's foot.
Friar Fu gasped and grabbed the back of the chair just in time before Otis came shooting back up. The monk lowered his friend gently before glaring up at the rotund redhead.
Roger placed the coins in the bag hanging from his belt, shaking it as he always did for good luck. "Sorry, you ol' dog," he told Otis with a smugness that clearly said he wasn't sorry. "But even Princess Chloe says taxes should hurt."
Friar Fu couldn't hold back his frustration any longer. He stepped around Otis and jabbed a finger in Roger's face. "Now, see here, you... you evil, flint-hearted –!"
The Sheriff waved his hands dismissively. "Now, now... save your sermon, preacher. It ain't Sunday, you know." He chuckled to himself as he paraded triumphantly out the door without bothering to close it behind him. "Sunday... ha! I amuse even myself."
Friar Fu stared after Roger with contempt, wishing – not for the first time – that God would strike the fat man down with a lightning bolt.
Once the Sheriff was out of earshot, Friar Fu loosed a heated sigh. "That wretched man!"
Otis groaned as he readjusted himself in his seat. "Ah, don't be so bitter, Friar," he muttered. "This ain't the first time he's done this, and it won't be the last."
Friar Fu knew that was true, but it still made him all the more bitter. "I'll never forgive him for what he did after Tom died, God rest his soul. Taking the bakery, forcing Marinette to run away..." He hung his head down in shame.
It happened four years ago, yet it felt like it was just yesterday. Friar Fu had finished praying for Tom's spirit when that tomato-haired minstrel boy, Nathaniel a'Dale, ran into his Church with the news that Marinette was gone. Frantic, Friar Fu tried to go into the woods to find her, but the winter cold was too much for his old bones to bear. So the monk returned in his novel and prayed to God day and night for Marinette's safe return.
The friar's prayers were finally answered that beautiful spring morning. Two girls in hooded cloaks – one red, the other orange – rolled into town on a wagon loaded with tax money. The moment Friar Fu saw the red-hooded girl's face, he had burst into tears and fallen onto his knees before her, begging for her forgiveness.
To his surprise, Ladybug had lifted him back to his feet and embraced him tenderly. "I missed you too, Uncle Fu," she whispered. That was what she used to call him as a child, and it had warmed the old priest's heart for the first time since Tom's death.
Friar Fu looked up at Otis from his ruminating stance, this time with resolve. "I love her like she's my own daughter, Otis. So help me, I will do anything to keep her out of that princess's hands if it's the last thing I do."
The blacksmith patted the priest on his shoulder. "You said it yourself, Friar," he said with a confident smile. "Have faith. All our troubles will be over soon. I can feel it in my bones." He looked down at his injured foot. "Well, mostly."
Friar Fu couldn't help but laugh.
Alix knew a birthday party was a lot to ask for, being the daughter of a peasant widow and all.
So when her mother Nadja invited Alix's friends to their cozy, straw-covered cottage to celebrate, the fourteen-year-old couldn't be happier.
Nathaniel brought his lute, as always. The young minstrel never went anywhere in Nottingham without a whistle on his tongue and a strum on his strings. He never worked for money. He simply took pleasure in providing music and merriment to the poor people; giving them a well-earned reprieve from their dreary lives.
As Nathaniel played, Alix's five-year-old sister Manon started dancing around with Rose, a short-haired blonde and the daughter of the local florist (hence the name "Rose"). Juleka, shy and dark-haired, stood on the sidelines with a smile. Kim, tall and hard-muscled from working in the fields, did a hearty jig with Max, who was scrawny, dark-skinned, and half Kim's height.
Alix joined in on the dancing, her deep-pink hair bouncing around her head. She couldn't help but notice the broad smile on her mother's face too.
Nadja had fallen on hard times ever since the taxes had gone up. The magenta-haired widow had to work long hours every day just to keep her two daughters fed. Today, she decided that Alix's birthday was good cause to take a break.
And when Nadja presented her eldest daughter with her present – a small green box tied up with a pink ribbon – the group broke out into song, with Nathaniel and his lute leading:
"Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday to you!
Happy Birthday dear Alix..."
Suddenly, a deep voice bellowed from the doorway, completely off-key: "Happy Birthday tooooo youuuuuuu!"
Alix snapped around, her joy plummeting. No, she thought, not him! Not now!
Nadja gasped and immediately pulled Manon close.
Nathaniel lost his place and accidentally strummed a high, sour note.
Kim, Juleka, Rose, and Max glared annoyingly at the intruder.
Alix just kept a straight face. There was no way Sheriff Roger of Nottingham was going to ruin her special day.
The fat redhead walked over to Alix with a smile of intrigue. "Well, now ... Are you the little girl this party is for?"
I'm not little. Alix swallowed those words before she blurted them out. "Yes, Mister Sheriff, sir," she said as politely as possible, just like her mother taught her.
Roger grinned. "Well, how 'bout that? Looks like I dropped in just in time!" He glanced down at the box in the girl's hand. "Why don't you go ahead and open that pretty present of yours?"
Alix stared at him warily and took a couple safe steps away from the Sheriff before undoing the ribbon. When she opened the box, her deep-blue eyes lit up like fireflies on a lagoon.
It was only a single coin; a copper farthing, to be exact. But the fact that her mother was willing to spare Alix one coin for her to keep and spend at her leisure... It was better than Alix ever hoped for.
"A whole farthing!" she announced. "Thanks, Mom!" She lifted the box and poured the coin into her hand.
Or tried to.
Like a snake snatching up its prey, a bulging hand stuck out in Alix's face and caught the little copper before pulling away.
Once again, Alix's happiness was replaced with immediate shock. "Hey!" she shouted. "Give that back! It's mine!"
She flung herself at Roger like an angry cat, clawing wildly. But Kim was right beside her, and he managed to grab the raging fourteen-year-old before she could so much as scratch the Sheriff.
"Alix, don't," Kim whispered to his friend cautiously, his brown eyes firm but kind.
Roger found the scene quite amusing, and he chuckled as he tossed the farthing into the air and caught it again.
Nadja drew herself up taller, her expression dark and stormy. "Have you no heart?" she stated. "I scrimped and scraped to give that to her!"
The Sheriff acknowledged her with a dip of his head. "Now that's mighty kind of you, Ma'am," he sneered. "But you know what they say: the family that stays together pays together."
Alix affixed him with a heated glare. "You greedy, fat-headed weasel!" she spat.
Manon gasped and covered the ears of her stuffed bunny.
"Alix," Nadja scolded softly. She then turned back to Roger. "In mercy's name, Sheriff, it's her birthday."
Roger pulled off a fake pout. "Oh, don't take it so hard, Ma'am," he cooed. "Princess Chloe wishes your daughter a Happy Birthday too."
Her face reddening, Alix opened her mouth again, but a cautious eye from her mother made the pink-haired girl bite down on her tongue.
Her friends watched the Sheriff in silence, but their faces were also etched with stone-cold hatred. It was hard for them to hold back their frustration too. But they – like Nadja – knew the consequences of fighting back against an officer of the Crown. If you were lucky, you were sent to prison for life. If not, you faced a public hanging.
Alix blew out a heavy breath of defeat and eased out of Kim's arms. If she were Ladybug, she would send Fat Roger running into the woods screaming like a "little girl".
Just then, a faint creaky voice called from the open doorway, "Alms? Alms? Alms for the poor?"
Everyone turned, including the Sheriff, and they were surprised to see a hunched figure wobbling into the house, tapping a wooden cane repeatedly in front of her.
It was a beggar woman, by the look of her: dressed in a ragged, brown dress and a floppy hat that sat atop of her long, wispy, grey hair. She held her cane in one hand and a small tin cup in the other, like she was asking for a drink.
Alix couldn't see the woman's face very well, with that hat and that wig in the way. And that grey blindfold. She's blind, Alix realized. She suddenly forgot all about her stolen birthday present and felt a twang of pity for this unfortunate old woman.
The beggar lifted her tin cup, shaking it and jingling the few coins inside. "Alms, me good sir? Alms for the poor?" she croaked in a thick accent that rolled off her tongue.
Sheriff Roger hummed with a smirk. "I'll do you one better, old lady," he said as he walked up to her. "How about alms for the princess?"
Without waiting for a response, Roger bumped his fist underneath the tin cup. Five coins flew up into the air, and the Sheriff caught them all in one hand.
Nadja gasped, covering her mouth.
Alix and her friends reeled, their anger bubbling even hotter.
What sort of man took money from a helpless, blind old lady? Apparently, the rotten sort.
Roger put the coins in his pouch and gave it a little shake. "Well," he said with a satisfied sigh, "this sure has been a fruitful morning."
And as he strode past the perplexed beggar woman and headed outside, the Sheriff of Nottingham called over his shoulder, "Keep savin'!"
Nadja scowled in his direction. "What a dirty trick," she muttered under her breath.
Manon looked up at her mother curiously, her baby-doll brown eyes glossy. "Mama? Why did the Sherf-Man take Ally's present?"
Nadja immediately lost the bitterness in her face, and she smiled sadly at her youngest daughter. "Because he wanted to, baby," she said, "and there was nothing we could do to stop him."
Alix huffed and folded her arms, her eyes burning with tears. "Ladybug could've stopped him," she asserted.
"Alix, hush," her mother whispered. "Not in front of the nice lady."
The beggar woman just stood there in front of the door, tipping her tin cup upside-down as though just realizing that all the coins were gone.
Nadja walked over and gently took her new visitor by the arm. "Please, dear, come in," she said with a welcoming tone. "Come in and rest yourself."
The old woman smiled, her lips surprisingly bright-pink and taut. "Thank ye, Mother. Thank ye," she said as she tapped her way into the room.
Only then did Alix notice that Nathaniel was grinning at the beggar, but in a way that made one corner of his mouth curl up a bit. It made Alix even more curious.
She peered at the old lady more carefully this time, and that's when Alix noticed her hands. Under the layer of oily dirt, which looked like it had been smeared on, the beggar's fingers were actually elegant and slender with not a crinkle to be seen.
A surge of astonishment rose up in Alix's gut. Could it be?
"Now, tell me," the woman asked, tilting her head this way and that. "Did me ol' ears hear someone singin' a birthday song, eh?"
Manon sniffled. "It's Ally's birthday," she answered, her lip quivering. "But that... mean Sherf..." Tears started falling down her little cheeks.
Alix immediately came over, knelt beside her little sister, and gave her a big hug to comfort her. Then, she looked up at the beggar. "He took the copper farthing Mom saved for me," she explained bitterly. "She worked so hard for it, and that greedy slob took it without a thought."
The woman's brow twitched. "Did he now? Oh... well, don't waste yer tears on him, sweetie."
Then, to everyone's surprise, the beggar woman lifted her blindfold off, revealing two eyes of crystal-clear blue. She wasn't blind at all!
"Be stout-hearted and don't let it get you down," the young woman told Nadja's daughters in a strong, lovely voice.
Nathaniel snorted and shook his head. "You just couldn't keep a straight face, now could you?" he teased.
"Huh?!" Rose, Juleka, Max, and Kim blurted in unison, glancing between the red-haired minstrel and the mysterious stranger.
Only then did Alix beam. "I knew it! It is you!"
The woman winked and stood up straight and tall, ripping her disguise off and exposing her true identity: an eighteen-year-old girl dressed in leathers with a large sack that had substituted for the "hump" on her back. She didn't have her bow or her red, spotted cloak today, but not one soul in Nottingham ever forgot her freckled face and midnight-blue hair.
Marinette, the baker's daughter. Ladybug, the hero of the people.
"Miss Ladybug!" Manon cheered with delight, running over to embrace her.
Ladybug hugged the child back before scooping her up and twirling her around, the both of them laughing.
Rose and Juleka chattered with excitement.
Kim shot a playful frown at a smug-looming Nathaniel. "You knew all along, you sly fox," he said.
The young minstrel shrugged. "Hey, it's my job to know everything going on around here. I'm kinda omniscient that way."
Max stared at Ladybug and sighed dreamily. "Wow... She's more beautiful in real life than on her reward posters."
Juleka grinned sideways at him. "You would know," she mused. "You keep one of them in your bedroom."
Max stiffened with a heavy, purple blush beneath his dark skin.
Alix giggled. This birthday was looking out to be a good one after all!
Once Ladybug set Manon down, Nadja smiled and embraced the rogue like she was a member of the family. "It's so good to see you, Marinette," she said, her eyes gleaming.
"You as well, Nadja," Ladybug said as she pulled away. "Sorry I couldn't come sooner."
Nadja waved that remark away. "Oh, stop. You never need to apologize for anything. Nottingham's a big town." She looked Ladybug up and down with surprise. "Goodness me, you seem taller than the last time I saw you. And so beautiful."
Ladybug blushed. "Oh, Nadja, I haven't gotten that much older. Speaking of which..." She turned to Alix with open arms. "Happy Birthday, Speedy."
Alix giggled as she threw her arms around the blunette and squeezed her tightly.
Her mother and Marinette's father, Tom the Baker, had been good friends while Tom was still alive. Alix had been young when Marinette donned the red hood, but she always considered the outlaw to be her big sister. Even though Ladybug couldn't visit very often – being a wanted fugitive and all – it made the days she did visit all the more wonderful.
Ladybug pulled away and sighed. "So... how old are you now?"
Alix lifted her chin with pride. "Fourteen-years-old," she replied. "Going on fifteen."
Ladybug's jaw dropped. "Wow! That does deserve something special." She grinned mischievously and dropped her sack onto the floor. "I've got just the right present for you, Speedy."
Alix drew closer as the blunette fished something long and beautifully-carved out of her bag: a wooden bow made of darkened elm with a silvery string, and a single arrow to go with it.
Everyone let out a soft, "Whoa...!"
Alix's heart shot up into the heavens, and she shivered with excitement. "No way...!" she breathed. "For me?!"
Ladybug nodded, grinning from ear to ear.
Alix took the bow in her hand eagerly. The moment she gripped the wood, she felt like a ranger readying for battle. She set the arrow in place and pulled it back on the string, just like she used so every year during the Harvest Festival.
"Hey, how do I look, guys?" Alix asked her friends and family.
Manon pursed her lips – an expression she often copied from her mother. "Not much like Miss Ladybug," she said.
Nathaniel looked back at Alix and tapped his chin in contemplation. "She's right," he said. "The posture is good, but... there's something missing."
Ladybug blinked before her bluebell eyes widened with realization. "Silly me, I completely forgot!" She dug her hand back in her sack. "I made this too. It's not red, but..."
She pulled out a long piece of teal-blue fabric... with a hood.
Alix could barely breathe as Ladybug draped the small cloak over her shoulders and tied it up at the neck. The cloak went all the way to the ground, and the hood was so broad that it fanned out at the sides.
"There you go," Ladybug said, stepping back to observe her friend. "Now you look like you can join my merry band of thieves. But not yet," she added when Alix's eyes lit up and Nadia's eyes widened. "Wait a few more birthdays, okay?"
Alix still retained her smile... until the hood slipped over her eyes.
She heard her friends chuckling under their breaths.
"Shh," Nadja scolded. "Mind your manners."
"Yeah, mine your manas," Manon repeated, waving a finger at Alix's friends.
Ladybug giggled and pulled Alix's hood back a bit over her pink locks so she could see. "Don't worry, Speedy, you'll grow into it." She winked with a sly grin.
That was enough to cheer Alix up. A bow and arrow and a hood? This was the best birthday ever!
"Thanks, LB!" Alix hugged Ladybug again before raising her present high. "Oo-de-lally! I'm gonna try it out!"
And with that, she charged out the door and onto the open, grassy-green fields.
Marinette watched as Alix took off outside with her new gifts.
"Wait for us!" Max called, running after his pink-haired friend.
"I wanna see!" Rose raced after her two friends.
"Yo, hold up!" Kim called.
"I'm right behind you!" Juleka followed on his heels.
Manon tugged on Nadja's skirt. "Mama, can I go with them? Pleeeeeease?"
Her mother patted her youngest on the head. "Oh, all right, Manon. But stay close to your sister. And stay away from the castle." Her voice was gentle but carried a serious edge to it.
"Okay!" Manon lifted her bunny doll into her arms and ran out the door. But then she stopped and waved back. "Bye, Miss Ladybug! Come again, on my berfday!"
Marinette smiled and waved back.
Once the child was gone, Nathaniel bowed to the two remaining women. "Well, guess it's time for me to hit the road too." He looked at Marinette. "I've got a new lead to look into, then I'll meet you at the hideout."
One thing Nathaniel was well-noted for, other than his mean music, was his habit of eavesdropping. Soldiers never paid attention to minstrels, and they liked to blabber about everything. Nathaniel's reports on his findings were how Ladybug and Rena Rouge kept track of all the comings and goings of the rich in Nottingham.
Marinette nodded. "Be careful," she told him.
"Always am." Nathaniel winked and headed outside, whistling a happy tune and stepping to the beat.
Nadja let out a soft laugh and turned to her last remaining visitor. "I haven't seen my two girls smile so big in a long time," she said. "Now you've made Alix's birthday a memorable one. How can I ever thank you?"
The look Marinette gave her father's friend was kind and selfless. "I only wish I could do more," she replied. She reached back into her bag and pulled out a heavy pouch. "Here – this is for you."
Nadja took it in both hands, her calloused fingers jingling the coins inside.
The widow's smile faltered, and she seemed to fumble with her next words. "Oh, Marinette... Please stay with us. Just for a day or two. We can make room, and hide you if the Sheriff should come back. My husband built a cellar under the house – it's perfectly safe." Her deep, purplish eyes were sad but firm. "Please, let me do this for you... in honour of your father."
Marinette shook her head and placed a hand on Nadja's shoulder. "You know I can't," she said gently. "If you were caught harbouring an outlaw..." She bit her lip and smiled weakly. "Well, I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you and the girls."
Nadja sighed through her nostrils. "I know, but... That devil of a sheriff and his pampered princess... If they stay here any longer, none of us will survive the next winter. And you do so much to keep our hopes alive that..." She swallowed a hard lump and wiped her eyes. After a small pause, she continued, "I lost my husband, and God knows I would lay my life down for my girls. But what about you? Alix and Manon love you like a sister, and I think of you as a third daughter. I can't bear the thought of you running headfirst into danger."
Marinette smiled, touched by the woman's words. After she lost her father, she never imagined she would ever have anyone else to call "family". But then she met Alya, and they became two peas in a pod. Then Friar Fu welcomed her back, then Otis, then Nathaniel, then Nadja and her daughters... and many others who had been saved from starvation thanks to Ladybug's robberies.
Now Marinette knew that Nottingham was her new family, and she was determined not to lose this one.
"I know, Nadja, and I'm forever grateful for that," she said. "I love Alix and Manon too, which is why I need to stay away to keep them safe. To keep all of you safe." Her eyes glimmered. "Besides, you and Friar Fu might have to fight for custody over me anyway."
That made Nadja laugh, but her eyes were still tear-ridden.
The two of them embraced again, and then Marinette retrieved her sack and pulled her beggar disguise back on.
Once her hat and wig were secured, the young outlaw smiled again at Nadja. "Keep your chin up," she said with a believable sense of optimism. "Someday, there will be happiness again in Nottingham. You'll see."
Nadja smiled through her tears.
Marinette slipped her blindfold over her eyes, held out her tin cup, and hunched over as she wobbled back out onto the street, tapping her cane.
Behind her, Marinette heard Nadja sigh from the doorway, "Bless you, my dear. Bless you."