CHAPTER EIGHT:
SECRET AFFAIRS
Stonefield was once the site of a grand castle, until it was claimed by a terrible fire many generations ago.
Today, all that remained was a lush, flat plain of grass, and the two twin guard towers that were miraculously spared from the fire.
Atop those towers, six trumpeters blared the royal anthem, welcoming the crowd of people pouring into the tourney grounds.
Children dragged their parents around and pointed at the large, colourful tents. Tall posts stuck out of the ground, almost as high as trees, and celebratory banners hung between them. The field where the archery tournament was to take place was further ahead, with several round targets set up in a neat row.
About a dozen archers – both noble and common – mingled in and around the tents, exchanging well-wishes or otherwise getting their gear ready. Servants and friends wandered around to assist the archers if needed.
Most of the onlookers had to stand, but there were a few benches and stands where some of the townsfolk could sit and watch the competition. Some of the children climbed up into the bordering trees to get a better view. Everyone was waving a flag that bore the colours of their favourite archer.
The nobility took up seats in their own private boxes, which were placed along the front of the tourney grounds where they could see everything. The men mingled with one another to discuss political affairs, while the women sat together and fanned each other from the heat, gossiping about whose son or nephew would most likely be the champion.
As always, the best seat in the house was the royal box. It had all the comforts of palace luxury, including a cushioned throne, a deep-blue carpet, and a tent-like covering of sky-blue with an elaborate golden overhang.
Princess Chloe sat upon the throne, dressed more beautifully than anyone in Stonefield. Her sparkling gown was all gold, with accents of white and black along the front, and her sleeves were tight-fit and then loose and frilly at the elbows. Upon her sun-streaked ponytail was her brother's crown. A diamond choker was wrapped around the princess's neck, and her fingers were once again adorned with jewelled rings; new ones to replace the ones Ladybug had stolen. In addition, Chloe's eyes were painted a faint blue to match her eyes, and her lips were smeared with pale pink gloss.
This was the day Chloe wanted to look her absolute best: the day when she would finally capture Ladybug!
The princess chuckled as she leaned back in her chair. "Ah, Sabrina," she said to her companion in the smaller seat, "this will be a red-letter day. A coup d'état, to coin the Norman phrase."
Sabrina giggled and bounced in her seat, making her teal-dress puff out a bit. Unlike most of the outfits she wore, this one was complete with puffed sleeves, laced cuffs, and a pointed hat with a gossamer veil hanging from the tip.
"Oh, yes, indeed, my princess!" Sabrina squealed ecstatically. "Your plan to capture Ladybug in public is sure genius!"
Chloe huffed and lifted her chin. "Well, of course it's genius," she said through her nose. "I'm the queen."
Sabrina instantly dipped her head. "Apologies, Your Majesty. Absolutely, Your Majesty."
Chloe smiled with satisfaction.
Her plan was absolute genius. Not even Ladybug, the greatest archer in Nottingham, could resist the challenge to participate in an archery tournament as grand as this one. Better yet, Sir Adrien would be one of the contenders, and almost everyone knew that he was an old friend of the red-hooded renegade.
Chloe still couldn't fathom how someone as perfect and regal as Adrien could ever be friends with a former pastry bumpkin who had become a criminal. But it mattered not. Adrien was promised to Chloe (or so she would have herself believe). She had even given the young lordling of Agreste her favour to wear for the tournament: a shiny, golden, bee brooch encrusted with emeralds to match Adrien's eyes. No girl could match that.
The princess sneered, her face darkening, and she clasped her hands together. "My trap is baited and set," she gloated, "and when the time is right, I'll have my revenge." She purred and sat up with delight. "Oh, I just love that word. Revenge!"
"Shh!" Sabrina jabbed a finger to her lips before glancing around. Then, she leaned over to whisper in Chloe's ear. "Not so loud, Your Highness. Remember, only you and I know about the plan. The capture of Ladybug must remain a secret. At least, until the time is right, of course."
Chloe recoiled with distaste and curled her manicured fingers over the ends of the armrests like claws. "I am well aware of that, Sabrina," she grumbled. "It's just..." She bore her teeth and contorted her brow. "That insolent wench... Thinking she could steal from me and then laugh in my face? Oooohhh!" Chloe clenched her fists in rage. "I'll show her who wears the crown!"
The princess straightened up sharply, causing her crown to slip down over her eyes. With a bitter sigh, Chloe lifted it back into its proper position.
Sabrina folded her hands together with a curt nod, obviously trying to hide her amusement about the crown mishap. "I share your loathing, my princess," she stated, staring off into the distance. "That scurrilous scoundrel who fooled you with that silly disguise; that measly maid who made secret trysts with Sir Adrien behind your back..."
Chloe slowly turned her head in her handmaiden's direction, her lip and nose twitching with irritation.
Unfortunately, Sabrina didn't notice and just kept going. "That theatrical thief who dared to rob you and made you look so utterly ridiculous!"
Chloe almost flew out of her seat as she drew herself up higher. "Enough!" she hissed.
Sabrina finally had the decency to cover her mouth, her face almost red as her hair. She cast Chloe a fearful, apologetic look.
Thankfully, the princess was too excited about the upcoming tournament to bother dishing out punishment. Yet.
So all she did was wave a finger at her attendant. "Sabrina, you will do well to keep that chatty mouth of yours shut for the rest of the day." She leaned back in her throne and mumbled under her breath, "Utterly ridiculous..."
Sabrina shrank back into her own chair. "Y-Y-Yes. Th-Th-Thank you... um, Your Highness," she stammered. Then, she wiped her forehead with a soft sigh of relief.
This was going to be a long day.
Adrien finished adjusting the straps of his leather gauntlet before flexing his arm proudly.
He ruffled his golden hair a bit before stepping outside his tent to find Nino, who leaned against a nearby post with his arms folded.
"Well, how do I look?" Adrien asked, placing his hands on his hips with a suave smile.
Nino glanced up and down once and smirked. "Like someone trying to impress a girl," he commented wryly. "You fit into the "dashing rogue" model quite nicely."
It was true. Adrien looked less like a noble heir and more like a nightly scoundrel. He wore a tight-fit, forest-green tunic with long, black sleeves and finger-less gloves. He also had black pants, matching leather gauntlets and boots, and a ringed belt from which hung a couple of sheathed knives. His short cape and hood was black on the outside, but green on the inside. All together with his spikier hair and feline grin, Sir Adrien of Agreste looked more like an outlaw himself; a real chat noir, to put it in French terms.
"Dashing, huh?" Adrien purred. "Do you think my lady will think so as well?" He dared not say the names "Marinette" or "Ladybug" in public, especially with Chloe's guards patrolling the grounds.
Nino shrugged. "She'd better, lest you end up vying for the princess's affections."
Adrien frowned like he swallowed a mouthful of bad medicine.
He knew Nino was referring to the bee brooch Chloe sent him earlier, which Adrien then gave to a passing archer immediately after. The lordling had received numerous fancy gifts from Chloe in the past, and all of them carried the same unsubtle message: her desire to woo Adrien and make him her royal consort and king.
Adrien sighed with a grouch. "Chloe doesn't love me, Nino," he said. "Not truly. She looks at me and sees everything that goes with me if we were to wed."
Nino frowned. "Doesn't she realize she's wasting her time with you?" he asked.
"You know Chloe – once she sets her eye on something, she'll do whatever it takes to claim what she thinks is hers."
It made Adrien all the more nervous about the idea of Marinette showing up for the archery tournament. Would his beloved dare to risk being out in the open with Chloe so close, even in disguise? Would the princess be fooled a second time? Was Adrien competing for nothing?
No, he thought determinedly as he picked up his bow and started testing the string. My lady will come. I can feel it in my bones.
Almost instantly, Adrien's doubt melted away to reveal excitement. "I'm done worrying about Chloe," he told Nino. "Right now, I'm worried that I won't recognize my true princess when I see her."
Nino walked over and patted his friend on the back. "She'll let you know somehow. After all, she has just as much taste in fashion as you do."
Adrien chuckled.
Marinette and Alya crept low in the bushes just on the edge of Sherwood Forest, where the valley of Stonefield and all its grandeur opened up before them.
Once they were certain they wouldn't be spotted, Marinette glimpses over everything in the field: the crowd, the royal boxes, the tents, the contenders...
... and when she spotted Adrien – laughing to his companion in all his black, shaggy-haired, roguish glory – Marinette suddenly forgot who she was and where she was.
It always made her smile to see Adrien, even when they were kids. That's not including the quickened pulse in her chest and the occasional sudden draw of breath. It made Marinette all the more convinced that she was doing the right thing coming here to Stonefield, no matter what price was on her head.
"Look, Alya..." Marinette whispered, shaking her friend by the shoulder and never stealing her gaze away from her handsome knight. "There he is. By that tent." She sighed dreamily, stood up, and started to inch away from the cover of the forest. "Isn't he amazing? So bold and sharp and handsome..."
A hand grappled onto Marinette's shoulder and yanked her back so hard, she tumbled back into the bushes with a tiny "Eyah!"
"Cool your heels, Juliet," Alya said dryly, her raven-black wig swaying like a bird's nest on the wind.
The wig was a precaution Rena Rouge had to take, given that Princess Chloe had seen her red hair. But she certainly hadn't seen the outlaw in a noblewoman's clothes: a long and fuchsia-coloured dress that was big in the skirt and tight in the middle, complete with sleeves draping at the elbows and a broad, white collar that fanned out behind the neck.
"Your heart's running away with your head," Alya said softly, poking her closed fan at Marinette's chest. "If you're not careful, you could end up losing both of them."
Marinette scrambled back up and brushed herself off coolly, being careful not to ruin her own new attire. "Oh, stop worrying," she sighed.
She stepped out into the sunlight, spreading out her arms for emphasis.
Even at close range, no one tell that the small, scrawny man was actually Ladybug herself. She hid her white uniform and leathers under an oversized brown tunic that went past her torso. Marinette also wore broad hawking gloves with thick fingers to make her hands more masculine, and her brown boots were big and bulky. Underneath a broad round hat, Marinette's midnight-blue hair was concealed by a wig of straw-like brownish-gold hair, and the area above her upper lip was plastered with a matching fake moustache. Finally, a single black eye-patch covered Marinette's left eye. She would need her good eye to shoot during the competition.
"See?" the young outlaw said, lifting her bold moustache up with a sly twitch. "This disguise is so full-proof, I'd fool my own mother."
Alya's own face crinkled with amusement. "Yeah, but your mom ain't here. You've gotta fool ol' Bushel Britches over there." She twirled a delicate hand and pointed towards one of the passing archers.
Marinette grinned as she caught sight of her quarry: the one and only Sheriff Roger of Nottingham.
He was strutting through the tourney grounds like he was already a winner, his big belly shaking as he walked. He was chuckling to himself and staring off into space all smarmy-like.
Marinette and Alya exchanged a silent glance before the former winked and strode out into the open.
The disguised blunette made sure to keep her steps hard and heavy, like a drunk stumbling out of a tavern. She also hunched over a bit as though the bow and quiver on her back were weighing her down.
Marinette came up beside Roger, almost startling him, and she spoke in a thick, deep, Irish-accent: "Sheriff o' Notting'em?"
Roger looked at her uncomfortably, quickly taking in her haggard appearance... and the eyepatch. "Um, yes?" he uttered.
Marinette grasped his hand excitedly and shook it with rigorous force. "Well, I'll be bless't! Meetin' ya face ta face is a real treat! A real treat!"
The Sheriff wobbled unsteadily from the over-exaggerative handshake, so much that his hat slipped off a bit to the side. When Marinette finally stopped, Roger quickly pulled away with an awkward smile. "Well, hehe... That's mighty kind of you, good sir," he said as he spruced himself up and puffed out his chest. "Now, if you'll kindly excuse me, I've got a tournament to win."
And with that, the Sheriff of Nottingham meandered away without a second thought or a second glance at the strange archer he had just met.
Marinette smirked. So far so good.
Alya couldn't help but smile with intrigue as she watched her best friend walk away unscathed.
"Maybe Mari's right," she murmured to herself. "Maybe I do worry too much."
If an outlaw as clever and elusive as Ladybug could survive four years without being caught by the Sheriff and his posse, she could undoubtably survive Princess Chloe.
That being said, Rena Rouge wasn't one to take risks. Hence the reason she was dressed all prim and proper.
"Mari's not a bad actress," Alya mused, unfurling her fan and drawing herself up, "but wait until she sees this scene I lay on Queen Bee."
Lifting her chin high, the foxy outlaw walked daintily towards the royal box like a queen strutting about her own castle.
Many archers and guards stopped to take a look at Alya, some drooling like dogs at the window of a butcher's shop. Alya ignored them and moved on, her vision tunnelled towards her single target.
As expected, Princess Chloe and Lady Sabrina were not surprised to see another noblewoman coming up to humbly greet the king's sister. Both ladies just stared down at their new guest with cool, collected indifference.
Alya approached the front of the steps and curtsied deeply. "Ah, Your Grace," she said with a regal, grown-up tone. Unlike Ladybug, she had no need to disguise her voice as well as her looks. "My esteemed royal sovereign of the realm; the Crown Jewel herself." She looked up at Chloe with sparkling interest. "Tu es belle comme le soleil."
The princess's thin, golden eyebrows inched up, and her mouth curled. "Mmmm... She has style, doesn't she, Sabrina?" she asked her handmaiden while still looking at Alya. Then, without waiting for an answer, Chloe said in the same French accent, "Tu savoir faire il y a, n'est pas?"
Alya giggled into her fan, knowing with smug satisfaction that she easily won the princess over. "You took the words right out of my mouth, PC."
Chloe blinked with a childish smile. "PC... I like it! You know, I really do. Sabrina, put it on my luggage. PC!" She let out a dramatic, nasal laugh (with a snort or two in between) and then sat back in her throne, murmuring the nickname again to herself.
The beady-eyed maidservant, however, didn't share her mistress's light-heartedness. Sabrina glanced annoyingly between Chloe and Alya, her face scrunched with suspicion. Finally, Sabrina let out a tiny "Hmph" and rose from her chair to meet Alya eye-to-eye.
The disguised outlaw accepted the stare-down with a look of regal boredom.
"And you?" Sabrina asked with a chipped tone. "Who might you be, Madam?"
Alya dipped her head again, careful not to fling her wig off. "I am Lady Alyanne, Duchess of Chutney, and I am here to..."
"Chutney? Ha!" Sabrina sneered. "Why, I have never heard of such a place in England."
Alya didn't twitch. If there was one hidden weapon she possessed, it was her wit. "That's because it's not in England. Chutney is a French holding belonging my father, but my mother was English." Alya frowned distastefully at Sabrina. "And don't interrupt me again, kid."
The princess's lady-in-waiting turned red in the face.
"Ooh, a French noble!" Princess Chloe clapped her hands. "How quaint. You are most welcome, Lady Alyanne. Permit me, may I call you Aly?"
"But of course!" Alya stepped around the agitated Sabrina and took up Chloe's hand. "And now, Your Mightiness, allow me to lay some protocol on you."
She barely bent her head to kiss the princess's hand before Chloe slipped out of her grasp like a snake, clutching her hand to her chest with fearful blue eyes.
"Oh, no, no... Forgive me, but I lose more jewels that way," Chloe said with a hint of embarrassment.
I wonder why, Alya thought as she held back a laugh in her throat.
Sadly, Sabrina heard it. "Something amuses you, Duchess?" she asked lowly, her teal eyes narrowed.
Once again, Alya was ready for her, and she swished around in her dress to lift the handmaiden's chin with her fan. "As a matter of fact, my dear," Alya pointed out with a smirk, "that droopy hat does not complement you very well. Perhaps you should consider wearing a baby bonnet to go with your whiny attitude."
Princess Chloe threw her head back and cackled, the sound of it grating on Alya's ears.
Sabrina's eyes bulged with humiliation and shock. "Whiny?!" She gritted her teeth like an angry squirrel whose nut had been taken away. "You, Madam, certainly have a lot of pepper in your tone for a French woman!"
This time, Chloe leaned over one of her armrests as she struggled to breathe.
And this time, Alya decided to join her.
"Oh, Sabrina!" Chloe gasped, wiping her eyes. "With you around, who needs a court-jester?"
Before long, the two ladies' combined laughter made Sabrina's pride falter little by little, and she shrank in her spot like an owl tucking its head into its body.
When Chloe finally let out a deep sigh and relaxed, she cast an icy glance at her humbled lady-in-waiting. "Now then, if you're quite finished being humorous, get out there and keep your suspicious eyes open for You-Know-Who." Her tone implied something dark and devious when she phrased those last words.
It made Alya stiffen. Does Queen Bee mean Marinette? she wondered with fresh concern. Is she expecting her to show up?
Whatever the princess meant, Alya was glad to be here in the royal box. Rena Rouge was always Ladybug's back-up plan.
Sabrina gave her mistress an appalling look. "You... You mean I... I'm being dismissed?" she blubbered pathetically.
Alya looked down her nose at the snivelling redhead. "You heard Her Majesty," she said strictly. "Move it, creepy. Get lost! Be gone, Nosy One!"
The foxy outlaw caught the handmaiden's mortifying glare before the latter lifted her skirt, stomped down the short steps, and slithered off onto the grass with the rest of her dignity.
Princess Chloe cleared her throat and offered Alya a sultry smirk. "Please, Aly, sit down." She gestured to Sabrina's vacated chair.
Alya flopped down onto the seat. "Thanks, PC," she said cheerily as she sat back and gazed after the angry Sabrina.
The thief hoped the suspicious servant wouldn't be a problem for her, or for Ladybug.
Thankfully, that's what they had the second back-up plan for.
Lady Sabrina muttered the whole way with frustration, throwing her hands into the air. "I have never been so insulted! Creepy?! Whiny?! Nosy One?!" She growled and looked back at the royal box with pure loathing. "Who does that dopey duchess think she is? Well, I'll show her soon enough. Her and the princess both!"
The maidservant then continued on her way... never even noticing the brown-robed priest and the young minstrel in the blue, puffed jacket observing her from the sidelines.
Friar Fu and Nathaniel slipped silent as the grave between two tents as they peered at the miffed Sabrina. The former scratched his bearded chin with a calculative gaze.
But it was Nathaniel who voiced the old man's thoughts. "Now she's up to something, Friar. Aside from the obvious, why would Chloe send her away?"
"Reconnaissance, my young friend," Fu whispered. "I believe Alya's suspicions were correct. The princess must somehow suspect that Ladybug has secretly entered the tournament, and she has sent her attendant to investigate."
Nathaniel scowled, clenching his lute with crushing strength. "If she recognizes Marinette and reports to Chloe..."
"We're here to ensure that doesn't happen." Friar Fu calmly beckoned his companion forward. "Come. Let's see where our esteemed lady's search will lead us. And Nathaniel? Try not to look conspicuous."
"Pfft. No need to worry about me, Friar," Nathaniel said with a grin. "I'm a minstrel."
"Precisely my point."
"I don't see what... Oh, ha-ha. Very funny, old man."