The morning had been uneventful so far, life had seemed like it was looking up for both of them. Marinette was in high spirits as she walked beside Chat, asking small questions here and there about the world around her. It hadn't out of the ordinary, just a small looking house. It looked like something out of one of her books. The smell coming from it was so nice, and her bread did little to dissipate her growing hunger. So, she asked Chat what it was.

She didn't expect his reaction. Suddenly she was in his arms, being whisked away from an unknown enemy. She could feel his fear, his apprehension, his misfortune: everything that made his hair stand on end.

The woman's voice that calmly addressed Chat still rung in her ears.

It wasn't long before figures began to come out of the underbrush. All of them in masks, circling them and boxing them in. Marinette pressed close against Chat's chest, closing her eyes tightly. She could hear the deep rumble in his throat, similar to a growl. Marinette had yet to see Chat anything but polite and mischevious, but she didn't dare open her eyes to see it. His arms clasped around her form and held her tightly. Oddly enough, it was the safest she had ever felt in her life. Almost instinctively, her hands curled and clasped his black shirt. She was terrified, and she could tell that he knew as Chat began to tense further, head on a permanent swivel.

Marinette kept her head hidden as Chat began to walk. There was no spoken order, but they knew Chat Noir. And Chat would know how to handle them. It was best to let him take the lead. Her mouth began to water as she was carried closer to the sent of food. Marinette could see the shadows of people move in time around them, leading them inside. Mari felt Chat's breath brush her hair out of her face, the red locks wrapped loosely around his arm. Walking into the place, dimly lit lanterns hung on chains, dangling from the ceiling.

Slowly, she was set down, Marinette held on to Chat's arm as he stood beside her. He pressed his side against hers. It brought her a bit of reassurance, but he way Chat held onto her hand, was anything but comforting. They stood around, everyone in their garbs and thieving costumes. Some she could remember from the stories Papillion had told her. The others were complete mysteries. It was dim, practically dark aside from the one lit candle on the table behind them.

"So, you stole from the Kutzburgs, eh?" The fox spoke up. From what Marinette could remember, it could only be Rena Rouge. She was the second most sought-after thief, dealing in embezzlement and transported cargo. It was odd, so many thieves in one place. She didn't remember any name associated with the conversation. Chat's Swallow broke the silence in the room.

"I didn't steal from them. I asked them to help, but I never agreed to give them the crown. They wanted to support the DemonRing and the proceeds were to help the Miraculous." There was a long, drawn-out silence. The air was dry, choking almost. A few heads turned to look at one another. It was the most tense situation she had ever been in. What she didn't know were the long fights and talks that had been inside this building, and the bonds between these people. Slowly, the room lit up, smiles and sighs echoed around the room. A few murmurs about a bet eliciting laughs and chortles. From a minute to the next, it went from a black hollow room to a jovial guild.

Marinette looked up and saw Chat Noir smiling warmly, finally sitting down next to her, relaxing. He looked so tired now, and she wasn't the only one to notice.

"What's your relation to the cat?" Rena came over, pointing at Chat.

"He's going to show me the ocean. And the lights, and what chocolate is."

It was like the entire room had stopped. Chat sprang up in front of Mari, practically on instinct. From counter with all the bottles, Mari heard a glass drop. Again, there was silence. Out of the crowd, a small man slowly walked over to the three of them. His bright red, flower print robe dragged behind him as he used a cane to help him walk. Behind him walked a tall man. His lime green suit making a statement in the room. The elder stopped in front of Marinette, studying her, gently picking up her hair and letting it fall through his fingers.

"Welcome back, Tikki."

Years Ago...

Deep within the forest, there lived two beings. One a witch with healing powers and the other, her husband, a man of destruction. They lived in a humble cottage sharing each meal and each year with each other. They were two halves of the universe, almost god-like. They loved man and its ability to innovate and change so quickly to their environments. She grew their food and made them meals, and he protected the house. She was a much better cook, and he couldn't make a meal to save his life. The only thing he could make was cheese. Any type of cheese you could think of. Every day he went to town to get supplies for his lovebug, as she sang and tended to her garden, which she loved so dearly.

They lived separately from the kingdom. Of course, the people knew of their presence, but they were rarely bothered. Only royalty sought out their help. For hundreds of years, they stayed in their home, watching the days go by in each other's company. He was gruff but melted at the sound of her voice. Her temper knew no bounds yet drowned in his touch. They were known as the Witch of Creation and the Merchant of Destruction, Luck and luckless. They revolved around and thrived on the other's happiness.

But on this day, their routine was flawed.

Trumpets announced the arrival of the king, and the eternal couple turned their heads to the walls in the garden. Stopped just outside the house was a wagon. Inside laid the queen, plump with a child and close to death. The king asked for a miracle. The witch knew what was to be done and silently kissed her husband. The merchant thought it was a simple kiss. Only until the deed was done did he realize how much that one kiss meant. There was a flash of light from inside the wagon, followed by sounds of a woman going into labour. An hour later, a child of royalty was born.

The red hairs on her head a memory of the magic spell used to keep her mother alive through birth, and the spirit that remained inside the beautiful baby girl. The merchant knew what had been done, and that it was irreversible. Fate was set in stone, as was his grief. The princess would live on, her life undetermined.

A/N: *busts down a section of a door with an axe and pokes my head in* HERE'S PHASE TWO

Honestly, this should have been out sooner, but I have to Stage Manage Taming of the Shrew in a week and I am running around trying to get a stage set up in my spare time as well as a senior Murder Mystery Night I am coordinating in April. Updates may be slow but I do intend to finish this. And to the people who wrote support comments, I was legit in tears and very happy (I am a very emotional person and cry easily). I re-read them from time to time.

It is a nice friendly reminder that humanity has many good eggs.

Stay Tuned, and Thank You so Much for Reading!

~Pheonix