Chat Noir ran.

Hidden beneath the gnarled canopy of twisted treetops, he was one with the shadows, his paws soft as silk as they touched down on the ground. Dark fur glistened with sweat as he pushed himself, faster, faster, hindlegs pumping and heartbeat thundering. His blood was aflame with the ecstasy of a hunt, his prey's scent burning in his nostrils.

A wild mane of black hair gleamed with the light of dying stars, slipping out of sight between the trees. He snarled in frustration. Why? Why did she always run? Still he was helpless to do anything but pursue, her scent sweeter than honey, and as irresistible as a siren's call. It beckoned him, his fangs aching with the need to bury themselves in flesh, marking, claiming–

He skittered to a halt, claws raking through the mud.

Bathed in light, pale skin shining like the moon, she stood at the center of a dark clearing.

Waiting.

For him.

And he pounced.

They went tumbling to the ground, limbs akimbo, skin pressed to heated skin. Shoving his face to her throat, he inhaled, a guttural groan of need spilling from the depths of his chest. Long fingers wound their way into his mane, scratching the spot behind his ear just right. A purr erupted, because, gods, how he'd missed this. He nipped at her throat just as her joyous laughter enveloped him like a caress.

Chat had never heard his Lady laugh like this before.

When he raised his head, he expected to meet the unyielding stare of eyes like blood and rubies.

But it was clear blue sky that greeted him.

Chat's eyes snapped open, a strangled growl in his throat. He kicked and writhed, only managing to entangle himself further. Fabric constricted around his chest, the texture unbearable as it scraped over sensitive skin. Too hot, overheating, he needed – needed –

He moaned when cool morning air hit his skin, detangled from the fake furs ensnaring him at last. His fangs throbbed in his mouth, his back arching as instinct lashed at him. His paws curled, claws rending the fine sheets. There was comfort in that, the sensation grounding him.

Reality trickled into consciousness and memories of a dark forest slipped away.

Biting back another ragged breath, he shook his mane, and the disorientation with it. Tail lashing in agitation, he blinked, once, twice, thin slits blowing wide to make sense of the darkness. Stone walls rose high above – had he taken refuge in a cave last night? But no, these were too even, too steep, so perfectly aligned that they had to be–

Manmade.

A room.

Adrien's room.

Chat Noir blinked again and sank back into his bed. Absently kneading his pillow to release the restless energy sizzling through him, his tail still kept lashing, the strange fervor refusing to dissipate. Grasping for the remnants of murky images, he tried to make sense of what had happened.

He'd been… dreaming?

Hunting.

And he'd been denied his kill. No wonder there was dissatisfaction curling in his belly. It had been far too long since he had last tasted fresh blood.

Casting off the sheets, he bounded toward the window and leapt to perch on the cold stone overlooking his new territory. His shoulders sagged as he stared at yet more unnatural shapes, stone and wood carved to the humans' liking.

There was no hunt to be found here.

Separated by towering walls, the city was divided into three rings, the innermost housing the Court. Like a vortex, wealth was drawn to the palace at the center, the buildings growing ever more modest at the city's outskirts. While there were shadows aplenty to take shelter in, there was no prey for him here.

Nothing but humans.

Chat tilted his head, squinting at a forest lining the horizon, far outside the sprawling huts lining the outer walls. He could run there, navigate the rooftops on all fours, cloak himself in a glamor to meld with the shadows to keep away prying eyes.

With his speed and agility, he could be back in a matter of hours.

Hours that were sure to cause a stir if his absence was discovered. Father had forbidden Adrien to leave the safety of the inner ring.

Dread crawled up his spine at the thought of the king, his ardor rapidly cooling. Dawn was breaking through the clouds, and soon it would be time for his daily visit.

The prospect of seeing pale blue eyes glazed over with stupor again was…

But it had to be done.

Wrenching his thoughts away from that direction, Chat let his gaze roam the courtyard below. A glint caught his eye, and a moment later his lips softened into a smile. The ice sculptures built for last night's feast were shining in the sun, catching and refracting the red gleam.

Lady Mariposa – Mari – would enjoy this sight.

She'd been so captivated by them last night. It was an easy thing to imagine her lips subtly parted, her pixie features growing soft in wonder. And then she'd turn to him to thank him for showing this to her, and he'd capture a sliver of that delight.

Yes.

She should get to enjoy this sight. He'd send her an invitation to take a walk through the royal gardens during daylight, and make sure the guards would know to let her in. It was, after all, not unusual for members of the nobility to socialize on the castle grounds. He'd just place her name on the approved visitors' list.

And she'd have to come back soon, before the ice melted.

Anticipation surged, his mood brightening at once. It had taken him a while to figure out what made her company so appealing, but last night had put a rest to that mystery.

His instinct, as always, had steered him true. As much of an outsider to the Court as he, she was a joy to talk to. With no expectations of the prince to meet, Chat found himself keeping the pretense to a minimum, which eased the strain he hadn't even realized had been getting to him.

"I was unaware of having blue blood until I met Alya." She raised her chin, her bold gaze blazing with a challenge. "I spent most of my life as a servant."

A test, daring him to judge her. Chat knew enough of the human Court to realize that most nobles would. Should he feign disgust? But truth was tempting his tongue to reassure her that he, too, knew servitude, and would never judge her for hers.

Sanity prevailed, and instead of giving himself away, he smiled. "That would explain why you keep trying to make yourself smaller than you are. Old habits die hard?"

Her cheeks darkened with a blush, even as she held his gaze. "Yes," she said softly. "Did you mean it?"

"Hm?"

"When you said I'm not the mouse I pretend to be."

At that, he could not help but laugh. Leaning in close, he gestured to their surroundings. "I don't know of any mouse brave enough to willingly walk into this nest of vipers."

Hopping off the window sill, Chat landed on two feet, tail and fur dissolving into black smoke. He grabbed the tunic laid out for him and pulled it over his head. Unlike Changelings, his mastery over his glamor was too limited to mimic fine details like those of a prince's richly decorated garb, so he still had to cloak himself in true clothing. For all their resemblance to each other, Chat couldn't even convincingly imitate other humans – only this one, singular face his Lady had gifted him with.

He waved to the guards keeping vigil over his quarters as he stepped through the doors, receiving a silent nod in return. The stomp of heavy iron boots followed his light footfalls at a respectable distance as Chat made his way down a winding staircase. He was getting better at tuning them out, but the feeling of being watched whenever he left the privacy of his rooms never sat quite right.

And the knights weren't the only ones keeping an eye on him.

Chat froze just a little tuft of silver slipped out of sight.

A cat.

He'd seen it before, lurking around him when he'd been exploring his new territory, trying to uncover the palace's hidden pathways and crevices. Fascinated by the little creature who was so much like his true self and yet not at all, he'd tried to go near, but it was quick to skitter away whenever his attention turned its way. He'd respected the signals to stay away so far, even as it was very clearly stalking him. And maybe it was the curiosity that had been building for days, or echoes of this morning's need for a hunt, but either way, now Chat found himself in pursuit.

Leaping over the stairs three at a time, he landed at the foot of the stairs with a thump. The cat darted away, but he was faster. Backed against the wall, its back arched, striped fur standing on end. It didn't hiss – a promising sign – although its pupils were blown wide in alert.

Chat dropped into a crouch, carefully turning his gaze away as if he'd lost all interest. Showing he meant no harm would be easier if he'd had his tail and his ears, but the human guards weren't far behind, so he had to stay Adrien. Carefully, he slid his lightly curled fingers forward – not so far to intrude on its space, but close enough to be an invitation to investigate.

"Hello," he murmured. "Care to share your territory with me?"

After patiently holding himself still for half an eternity, a pink nose twitched, ears flicking up in curiosity. It inched forward, clearly suspicious, but seeming unable to help itself. Stretching its fluffy neck as far as it would go, it scented his offered hand.

Golden eyes pinned him in place, and for all that it was the size of a snack, Chat found himself barely daring to breathe under the scrutiny. There was no reason at all to care about this little creature's approval, and yet he really, really wanted it.

And a heartbeat later, he had it.

Bumping its forehead against his palm, it purred and writhed under his touch. Adrien didn't hesitate to scoop it up. Dangling hindlegs scrambled to find a hold on his arms, and the cat wrapped itself around his shoulders like a scarf, happily rubbing its cheek against his ear.

He answered with a deep, rumbling purr of his own, leaning into the warmth.

It was cut short when he remembered the nearby humans. Swallowing the sound, Chat cast a covert glance at his guards to make sure they hadn't heard – not that it did him any good, with the way their facial muscles never so much as twitched.

He quickly resumed a brisk walk while reaching up to scratch his new friend behind its velvety ears. Hopefully it liked that spot just as much as Chat did.

"Are you hungry, little one?"

A soft murr answered, and he took it as a yes. He took a sharp left turn toward the bustling entrance hall, past which lay the quickest path to the palace's kitchen. Chat visited it most mornings anyway to swipe a little meat for himself. That way he could at least pretend to be satisfied with the wheat abominations they kept serving him – it was much easier to pretend when his stomach wasn't cramping with hunger.

Then he could take a breakfast tray to father, and–

"Adrien!"

He slowed his steps, turning his head to look over his shoulder at the familiar voice.

Nino hurried toward him, his black hair disheveled and a lopsided smile on his lips.

"Good morning," Chat said slowly, brows furrowing. Something about Nino's demeanor was setting off an instinctive alarm.

"Morning. I was just about to head to your room." Nino paused, scrutinizing gaze flicking to the cat lounging on his shoulders. "I'm surprised you're up already, I was half-expecting you to be nursing a hangover."

"I'm fine." Chat was a fast healer, after all. Lowering his voice, he gently asked, "…are you?" Dark circles ringed those golden eyes, untouched by a smile that was forced a little too wide.

"Yeah. Yeah…" Nino raked his fingers through his hair, grin fading. "Couldn't sleep last night, is all." Pause. "I'm sorry I left early, I – it was – I know we agreed to…"

"Don't worry about it," Chat said when Nino appeared to run out of words, a faraway look in his eyes. Whatever remained of Chat's annoyance at being left to his own devices paled next to the urge to cheer his friend up. "Lady Mariposa explained what happened, and I still had a good time. Is Lady Césaire alright?"

"I – yeah. She's fine. Is going to be fine." There was that strange expression again, and Nino's gaze slid back to the cat whose claws were subtly digging into Chat's biceps. He raised his hand, reaching for it.

The cat hissed.

And Nino, for some reason, laughed.

"I see how it is. Don't have any more use for me, do you?"

Chat blinked in confusion just as the cat batted at Nino's hand with one white-tipped paw until he withdrew. "Huh?"

"Your hellbeast had no problem soliciting my cuddles in your absence, you know." His gaze softened, as did his smile. "She yowled for weeks after you disappeared. Honestly, the first time she deigned to sit next to me, I thought the sky was about to fall."

"Oh!" Well, her being Adrien's certainly explained the stalking. Chat grinned, slanting a glance at the grey tabby out of the corners of his eyes. "Sounds like she has discerning taste."

"Of course. The noble Lady Meowgana is far too fine to settle for anything but royalty. A mere earl such as myself will only do in the direst of circumstances."

Chat broke into laughter, and Nino joined in a moment later.

"Happy New Year, Adrien," Nino said after they'd both calmed, his grin reaching his eyes at last. "And I come bearing an offer of how to make up for cutting last night short."

"Oh?"

"How do you feel about hitting me with a stick?"

"What?" Was this some human atonement ritual he'd somehow missed learning of? "I'm not that mad."

Another blow rained down upon his shoulder, and Nino groaned in pain as his knees hit the cold stone. Pain radiated down his arm and a moment later, the wooden weapon slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground.

A looming shadow fell over him, green eyes shining with concern.

"I'm sorry, I got carried away."

Nino barked out a laugh, tilting up his head. "So much for being out of practice. You liar."

"Hey." Adrien mirrored the teasing tone as he sat down next to Nino, drawing one knee up to his chest. "It's not my fault you suck."

Nino grimaced at the reminder of his own ineptitude. Despite the uncertainty written all over his face when he'd first picked up the sparring sword, it hadn't taken Adrien long until he'd been skillfully wielding his weapon like an extension of his arm, becoming more confident – and aggressive – with every thrust and parry. The prince had always had a gift for swordplay, one Nino had not been able to keep up with past their boyhood games, the gulf in their abilities growing wider with each passing year.

A gift that Adrien's long imprisonment had evidently not robbed him of.

"Yeah," Nino murmured, letting himself fall back with a thump. "That was pretty pitiful, wasn't it?"

Adrien's only reply was a diplomatic hum. "You don't seem in the best shape. Perhaps tomorrow, with a proper night's sleep–"

"–it might take you a whole three seconds to land a blow?"

"Practice makes perfect." His best friend smiled wryly. "Where is this sudden urgency coming from?"

I need to protect you.

"These are dangerous times," Nino muttered, perfectly aware that if Adrien hadn't been able to defend himself from the forces that took him, Nino stood even less of a chance.

"…is this about Chloe?"

"Yes." He pressed his lips together to keep the swell of questions at bay.

"Oh." Fabric rustled as Adrien shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry."

"Hardly your fault." Or was it? But no. That was Nino's newfound well of paranoia speaking. He angled his head, reassuring himself that Adrien's eyes were as warm as ever.

Chloe – the other Chloe – her eyes had been like ice, cold and dead, and his skin had crawled in her presence. Nausea rose again at the thought of Chloe having been dead and gone for months, all while he'd been seething with hatred for something that was not her fault. He shoved the notion away, but it refused to stay gone, having robbed him of his sleep and haunted his every step ever since he'd left Lady Alya at her home.

She'd tried to tell him more, but nothing had penetrated the numb fog inside his mind past that. Nothing but her urgently whispered warning.

"You can't tell him anything." Her fingers curled around his wrist, holding him in place even as all he wanted was to escape this nightmare. "It's of the utmost importance that you act without drawing suspicion to yourself. We don't know who's watching."

"You're in no shape to train today," Adrien said softly, "But – we can do this again tomorrow. If you want a sparring partner."

The radiant woman wearing Marinette's face spoke with such conviction it was impossible to doubt her. "While we are powerless to change Chloe's fate, it's not too late to change Adrien's."

"Yeah." Nino closed his eyes. "That sounds like a plan."

Author's note:

More Adrinino fluff because I am bromance trash.

i love these boys a lot okay

Find me on tumblr under the name mini-minou if you want to see some gorgeous fanart I've received for this story!