Weeks later
Her Royal Highness Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Princess (technically) of Boulangerie, looked down on the city of her conqueror.
The capital of the Astrucan Republic, and now of the Agrestian Empire, was built in the valley of the Nikeldan River, barely a day's ride from the eastern borders of Boulangerie. The city had been built on both sides of the river, with many tall bridges linking the two halves. Higher up on both sides, the slopes of the valley were dotted with villas and estates, retreats for the high nobility or dwellings for those who didn't care to live in the city itself.
The outer wall of New Astruc had an oddly patchwork appearance. Here and there sections of the old city wall still stood intact, seamless lengths of ladystone ranging from a few paces across to one section that covered nearly a full tenth of the city perimeter, and had an intact gatehouse still in it.
How in Tikki's name is that stuff made, anyway? wondered Marinette. I'll have to ask her about it sometime, when we have privacy. If she even remembers. She said her memories of the Republic are fuzzy, and there must be some reason why Joanskeep is made in the normal manner and not out of ladystone.
The rest of the walls had been filled in with normal architecture, chiseled and laid blocks of stone. Not as hard or seamless as ladystone, but still quite impressive. And the city they enclosed was huge. Old Astruc had been larger than any modern city, and Agreste had rebuilt the city wall along the same lines it had covered before. Huge sections of the city were still rubble or stood empty, waiting for time and prosperity to fill them in, but the sections that were occupied bustled with life. And everywhere there flew the pink moth on a purple field of Gabriel Agreste.
Marinette turned to her escort, fifty soldiers in Boulangerie scarlet and sky-blue dispatched as an honor guard to deliver her up to her fate.
"Let's go," she said, putting on a smile. "Wouldn't want to be late for my own coming-out party, would I?"
"Ok, how do I look?" asked Adrien, slowly turning around in a circle with his arms outstretched.
"In my admittedly non-expert opinion, Your Highness," replied Nino Lahiffe, "You look very good. Though you might want to do something about your hair. Or you might not. Are you going for 'approachable and human', or 'poised and in control'?"
"Probably the latter, at least for today," said Adrien. "My father hasn't really left me the other option."
"And what do you mean, you're not an expert?" he added over his shoulder, as he dug out the comb and began to wrestle his towel-fluffed hair into shape. "You're my companion. If you're not an expert, who is?"
"Lady Lavillant," said Nino promptly. "Or your sister. Or even Lady Haprèle or A-Alya would probably be better than me for this. I'm pretty sure that if you want to know what your betrothed is going to think of you, you need to get a woman's opinion."
"Well, I trust your judgement," said Adrien, trying to suppress a giggle at Nino's stumbling over the name of the newly-arrived Sapotisian princess. That had been one of the more spectacular examples of love at first sight Adrien had ever witnessed. "And there's no time to find any of the others anyway, except maybe Chloe. Thank Tikki my dad doesn't insist on my wearing his colors, even on these occasions."
Adrien felt Plagg squirm inside his tunic at that line, and could imagine the kwami rolling his slitted eyes. Even with only a couple of day's acquaintance, Adrien had already discovered that Plagg was as vain as any cat, and he didn't much care for Adrien offering praise to any other kwami.
"Amen to that," said Nino with feeling. "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed purple could go so well with your father's complexion and so badly with yours and your sister's, what with you all being related."
Adrien nodded and turned to the door. It was time to go meet his bride-to-be.
New Astruc was a bizarre blend of ordinary and exotic. Their path from the gates to the Imperial Palace took them mostly through the populated regions, and those were, by and large, little different from the streets and markets and districts of Joanskeep which were so familiar to Marinette. But scattered here and there were little reminders of where she was and what fate was about to claim her. There were more than a few reminders of Downfall's madness: random constructs of Ladybug magic or gashes and holes carved out of the deep stone by the power of the Black Cat's Ring. And there were remnants here and there of Old Astruc. Buildings were decorated with mosaics showing the Two, or some of the Five, or depicting other Miraculouses, unknown and lost since Downfall. Pillars of marble decorated with ornate bas-relief carvings held up roofs layered with stucco tiles, or surrounded open courtyards.
There were also the perpetual reminders of Agreste's rule: the occasional Moth Guard in their gleaming plate armor and rich purple cloaks embroidered with the Pink Moth, the Agrestian banners everywhere, the regular soldiers and city guards in pink-trimmed purple. Even the patter of the merchants, with its medley of languages and perpetual references to the coinage of the Empire, reminded Marinette again and again that she was far from home, and might never again return.
Eventually, they reached the gates of the Imperial Palace. Waiting for them there was a woman in a robe of Agrestian purple, with brilliant blue eyes and short dark hair. The gate itself was guarded by a pair of Moth Guards, and there were more Guards and a small army of servants in Agrestian purple accompanying the woman.
"Greetings, Your Highness," said the woman with a nod of her head. "I am Nathalie Sancouer, the Imperial Seneschal."
This is it, thought Marinette. Time to save those whom I can save.
"Captain," she said, sliding off her horse and turning to face the head of her escort, "I believe it is time for you to return to Boulangerie. Please tell my mother and father that I arrived safely to Emperor Agreste's court." She put on a fake smile. "I am sure he will take good care of me from now on," she said sweetly, pitching her voice to be heard by Sancouer and her entourage.
And it's not as though fifty guards would do me any good, not here, she thought. There must be ten or twenty times that number of Moth Guards alone in and around the city, and Tikki only knows how many human soldiers. No point in keeping these men away from home.
It was the same reason why she had brought no servants with her. She refused to force anyone to share her own fate. If she had to sacrifice her own freedom and security to buy it for her mother's subjects, she wanted to make sure that, as far as it lay in her power, every one of those subjects received what she had purchased at such a steep price.
And there was another consideration as well. In the event that it became truly necessary, she was nearly certain she could escape New Astruc as Ladybug. But while she could get out easily enough herself, it would be nearly impossible to take anyone with her. If things went so spectacularly wrong that it proved necessary to flee the Agrestian capital, she had no intention of leaving behind servants or guards to be taken prisoner by Gabriel Agreste.
The captain of her escort visibly winced, but he nodded his head and spurred his horse about. The rest of her escort followed suit, and Marinette tried not to feel her stomach sink at the disappearance of her last link to her home.
"Thank you for that, Your Highness," said Sancouer with another polite nod. "Now, if you will follow me, Emperor Agreste and his court are waiting to receive you. The servants will take your luggage to your quarters."
"Lead on, Madam Sancouer," said Marinette.
"Presenting Her Royal Highness, Princess Marinette Dupain-Cheng of the sovereign realm of Boulangerie!"
Marinette waited for a single breath after the herald's announcement rang out, then strode forward through the main doors of Gabriel Agreste's throne room. Sancouer had disappeared through a side door after guiding her to this point, so Marinette entered the hall alone.
No, not alone, thought Marinette, as she felt Tikki shift in her hidden pocket. Never alone, not even here. The thought banished her nerves, and she stood as tall as she could.
The hall was packed with the nobility and wealthy of the Empire, a jostling mass in a hundred different colors and styles of dress. But the path up the middle was left open, marked by a soft carpet in Agrestian purple.
At the end of the hall was a raised dais, and on that dais were set three thrones. In the central and largest of the thrones sat Gabriel Agreste. He was untransformed, and clad in heavy purple robes. There was a heavy chain of rose gold set with amethysts about his neck, and Marinette could see the glint of rings on his fingers, but his gray hair bore no crown. At his elbow was a small table with a padded cushion on it, and a tiny purple shape that had to be his kwami sat on the cushion, sipping from a tiny cup. The Moth Brooch gleamed silver against his robes, framed by the rose gold chain.
The throne to Agreste's left stood empty, but on his right hand sat a young boy of about Marinette's age, with golden-blond hair and vivid green eyes. He was clad in a white silk coat with golden buttons over an undershirt and leggings of black, and wore a slender chain of yellow gold about his neck. As Marinette drew closer, she could see an expression of blank politeness on his face, which contrasted favorably to the smug satisfaction she could see in Gabriel Agreste's features.
So that's Adrien Agreste, Marinette thought. Well, at least he's handsome.
Well, thought Adrien, at least she's cute.
Princess Marinette Dupain-Cheng came to a halt before the dais and dropped into a perfect curtsy.
"Welcome to New Astruc, Your Highness," said Adrien's father. "I am pleased you could join us."
"I could scarcely refuse such a polite invitation, Your Majesty," said Marinette faux-sweetly, rising from her curtsy.
Years of practice let Adrien maintain his façade of calm, but internally he winced at the barely-concealed venom in Marinette's tone.
Plagg damn it, father, he thought, hands tightening around each other where they lay hidden in his lap, why couldn't you have made this a marriage of equals?
That flash of fire in those sky-blue eyes should have brought him joy. After all, he had no desire to marry a shrinking violet or courtly puff. He wanted a wife who could be his partner, his equal and helpmeet, as Tikki was to Plagg and Plagg to Tikki.
But now his joy was alloyed with dread. For Marinette Dupain-Cheng would have every reason to loathe him, after the farce of a treaty his father had forced on her parents. And that same spirit that would have made her such a worthy Empress would now be turned against him and his father.
I don't think she'll actively rebel. Boulangerie is her hostage at least as much as she is its, and she has to know as well as I do that they'd stand no chance if Father sent the legions west. But I don't want to know what kind of ways she might find to get subtle revenge. And even if she never rebels, I'll still have to spend the rest of my life wedded to a woman who hates me.
The image of himself in bed with Marinette, the same barely-leashed defiance in those brilliant blue eyes as she submitted to his touch, flashed through his mind. Just the thought made his skin crawl, and even all his practice couldn't his face from showing the sudden surge of revulsion that swept through him.
He saw a brief flash of pain in Marinette's eyes, and realized with a surge of embarrassment and redoubled dread that she'd seen his revulsion… and wholly misinterpreted its cause.
His father either hadn't noticed the little interchange, or was ignoring it, for his voice was still heavy with satisfaction.
"Well, Your Highness, there shall be a ball this evening to celebrate your arrival at court. In the meantime, you and my son may begin to acquaint yourselves with each other. Adrien?"
"Yes, Father?" said Adrien.
"Please take Princess Dupain-Cheng here, and show her about the palace. Teach her something of the Court, introduce her to your friends, help her get settled in and prepared for tonight's festivities."
"Yes, Father," said Adrien, rising from his seat and walking down the steps of the dais. "If you would please follow me, Your Highness," he said, giving Marinette a formal bow before gesturing towards one of the side doors. He couldn't do anything real about his father's mistreatment of Marinette, but at least he could treat her with all the respect and honor she was due.
I have almost three years to court her, he thought hopefully. Maybe I can get her to at least accept me by the time we actually get married.
"As you wish, Your Highness," replied Marinette, and Adrien winced internally at her tone.
Or maybe not.
As she saw the brief flash of revulsion on Adrien's face, Marinette felt her heart sink. She knew that she wasn't the most beautiful of women, but surely the mere thought of her shouldn't have made Adrien look almost ill.
Still, Marinette had to admire Adrien's poise. He clearly didn't like this any more than she did, but other than that brief flash of revulsion his façade was perfect.
As they exited the bustle of the Court, Adrien turned to Marinette. "Would you care for a bath and a chance to recover from your journey, Your Highness? The bathhouses have several private bathing rooms, and there is no particular hurry. The ball won't start until about five of the clock, and it's not even noon yet."
Is that supposed to be a hint, Your Highness? thought Marinette tartly. I didn't think I was that dirty, but if I must bathe before you can stand to have me in your presence, so be it. At least it will give me a little time alone with Tikki.
"Thank you, Your Highness," was what she actually said. "A bath would be very welcome."
"You're welcome, Your Highness" said Adrien. "I imagine you'll want a change of clothes as well, and I know where Father plans to put you up. So if you will follow me?"
She followed him through the winding corridors of the palace, until they came to a suite of rooms with purple-clad servants busy bringing in and unpacking her luggage. It was actually a very nice suite, at least judging by the furnishings, though there seemed to be a lot of empty space.
"Father wasn't sure what you might like in the way of furnishings," explained Adrien, gesturing at the empty space. "If you want anything – a piano, art supplies, more chairs so you can receive more guests, whatever – just let me or Nathalie or one of the master-servants know. There isn't much we can't procure."
Except for the things that really matter, thought Marinette wryly. Except for freedom, or my family.
"Thank you, Your Highness," she said out loud. "I will think on it." She turned and disappeared into the closet where a servant was hanging up her dresses. She had brought ballgowns, of course, but she had no desire to put one on this early. Instead, she selected clothes similar to the ones she was already wearing. A soft white shift would go under a dark grey dress, and pink leggings would protect her modesty in case the dress flared.
From her new quarters, Adrien led her back across the palace again, until they arrived at a corridor that dead-ended, with a set of double-doors in each wall. One set of doors was decorated with a silhouette of a figure in a dress, the other showed a figure in a tunic and leggings.
"I believe this is where you and I part ways for the present," said Adrien. "Ladies only beyond those doors." A gesture of his hand indicated the door with the figure in the dress. "There are bells to ring for servants if you require anything."
"Thank you, Your Highness," said Marinette.
"See you later, then," said Adrien, and turned to leave.
"See you later," replied Marinette, and pushed open the bathhouse door.
Marinette let out a long sigh of relief as she sank into the hot water. Tikki wiggled out from inside Marinette's discarded dress and bobbed up into the air.
Tikki's spots, that feels good, thought Marinette. The hot water flowed over her, and a little bit of her pain and stress seemed to melt away. The heat soothed the sores from many days in the saddle, and aching muscles unknotted.
"So, Tikki," said Marinette, "Here we are."
"Here we are indeed!" chirped Tikki. "And there's a ball later on, that sounds like it'll be fun!"
"Oh, I doubt that," said Marinette. "Having Agreste parade me in front of his court like a trophy, and then having to dance with that snooty son of his? Not my idea of fun. But at least I should be able to go out with you tonight. That I am looking forward to."
"Marinette, I don't think you're being very fair to Adrien," said Tikki. "You're already judging him when you've barely met him. And you have to admit, the circumstance weren't the best. Don't you think you should-"
Suddenly, Tikki's eyes widened and she shot down into the water. Before Marinette could react, a voice spoke from behind her.
"Marinette Dupain-Cheng." Marinette started and twisted around at the sound of that voice. She had never heard anyone squeeze so much disdain into only six syllables.
Standing in the alcove entrance was a young woman of about Marinette's age. Like everyone else in the bathhouse who wasn't nude, she was clad in a simple linen shift. Her hair was the same golden-blonde shade as Adrien's, and her eyes were the same shade of blue as Marinette's own. She wore a golden chain about her neck, with a locket decorated with a peacock on the end.
"I want to make sure you understand something," she said. "You are here for one reason and one reason only: because my father didn't want to be bothered with actually giving your pathetic kingdom the stomping it deserved, and in order to get the kingdom he needed you. But just because you happen to have gotten to share Adrien's bed – which, by the way, is already far more than you deserve – I don't want you to think that that somehow makes you my equal. You are Adrien's bedwarmer, nothing more."
Marinette's face flamed in a mixture of fury and shame, her earlier stress returning tenfold. The girl's words were enough to identify her. This could only be Chloé Agreste, Adrien's younger twin. And her words were a confirmation of all of Marinette's worst fears.
"Really, Your Highness," came a third voice. "Do you expect Princess Dupain-Cheng or anyone else to believe that you're suddenly an expert on what your father wants, when even I know that he hasn't spent a single minute with you in private for years now?"
Chloé stiffened for a moment, before visibly recovering her composure. "Oh, so little Miss Sandbeetle has decided to stick her nose in!" she jeered. "Fine, you two deserve each other. I'm going to find some worthwhile company."
Chloé turned and brushed past the newcomer, a young woman a year or two older than Marinette. She had skin the color of cinnamon, and hair a few shades darker and redder. Her eyes were an odd pale brownish-gold and she was entirely naked, aside from a certain amount of condensation on her skin.
As she was about to disappear, Chloé turned and shot one last remark over her shoulder. "Hey, maybe if you're lucky you can get Dupain-Cheng here to sneak you into Adrien's bed. Get an imperial bastard in that belly of yours and you'd finally have something real to brag about." And with that, she turned on her heel and was gone.
Marinette had almost completely disappeared under the water's surface, and she knew her exposed skin had to be as red as Tikki.
"Well," said the newcomer in a rueful voice, "I see that you've met Chloé Agreste. Not the nicest person to have accosting you in the bath. Don't worry, she talks a big game, but she doesn't have any real power. The Tyrant and his son spoil her because she's family, but even they don't actually listen to her."
Marinette resurfaced part of the way. "Uh… thanks for standing up for me there," she said, her face still scarlet.
"My pleasure," said the other. "Alya Céasaire, formerly of Sapotis, at your service," she said, giving a bow.
"M-Marinette Dupain-Cheng, of Boulangerie," said Marinette. She felt her embarrassment fade a little, and curiosity replaced it. "Say, wasn't your family…"
"My father was the leader of the resistance against the Tyrant, yes," said Alya. "Here, scooch over."
"What!?" blurted out Marinette, her face instantly going scarlet again.
"Relax, girl," said Alya as she slid into the pool beside Marinette. "You've got nothing I haven't seen before. Anyway, my father was the last true king of Sapotis. Even once he lost my mother and was driven off the throne, he led a resistance against the Tyrant. Kept it going for years, until maybe six months ago he finally got caught and killed. Not long after that, my aunt and uncle struck a deal with the Tyrant. They surrender and rule Sapotis as loyal puppets in my name, and I get sent off here where I can't do anything to stop them, and where all my father's followers know I'll get my head chopped off if they try anything. I'm like maybe sixty percent sure they intend to kill me in a year or so, when my father's fame back home has faded a bit and they think they can get away with it."
Marinette couldn't help a slight gasp at that. "T-Tikki and Plagg, that's horrible!" she said, hoping Alya hadn't noticed her slight stumble on Tikki's name. "You think your own family wants to kill you?"
"They kind of have to, if they want to be sure of getting away with what they did," said Alya. "In a year and eight months I come of age, and they can't know that I won't be willing to swallow my father's honor and swear to his murderer. If I do, they lose their cushy thrones. The Tyrant's got no reason to deny me my father's throne, and his own rules state that he's got to give it to me if I'm willing to bow to him. He won't break those without a fairly good reason."
"Oh," said Marinette vaguely. Between Chloe's rants, Alya's story, Alya's naked body pressing up against hers, and the general stress of the day, she was feeling a bit dazed.
"Anyway," said Alya, "What's your story? I know the public version is that your parents basically struck their own bargain with the Tyrant, that they get to live out their lives more or less in peace and then He gets you and Boulangerie and just about everything else. Is that it, or is there more to it than that?"
Marinette winced. "That's not exactly how it happened..." she began.
