Chapter 8

Prince Matheo sat quietly in his (his, and not his insipid brother Alexandre's) study, going over a revised document that would officially make it against the law to use food in place of money for taxes. Some of the peasant farmers used the method of trading their food harvested from the crops and animals instead of giving up money. It was surely only because they were hoarding plenty of francs, francs that he could have, francs that he should have.

With a calculating grin flitting across his lips he perused over the parchment yet again, making sure every detail was exact and correct.

Since his head was bent down, he failed to notice the tip of a sword quickly extinguishing a candle's light.

However, he did notice the abrupt lack of light in the room.

Matheo picked up his head curiously and looked about the room, noting the small wisp of smoke left behind in the flame's wake.

A strange feeling of dread welled in his stomach. It was a foreign feeling, one he hadn't felt in a long time. As Prince and currently ruling with an iron fist while his brother was imprisoned, there wasn't much that could frighten him.

With a shake of his head, he resumed his work. Perhaps one of the windows was left cracked open and a small breeze filtered through, thus blowing out the candle's light.

If he looked around a little longer, maybe he would've seen a shadow silently stepping away from his hiding place-a rather large bookcase. The choice of his cover amused him to an extent, to hide behind something the Prince probably hasn't touched in years, given the copious amount of dust settled on the books.

When he crept near enough to the oblivious royal, he tapped the man's shoulder twice with his sword before placing it at his neck.

Matheo flinched, effectively startled, and then paled altogether when he saw the smirking bandit with cat ears.

"Ch-Chat Noir?!" he gasped, thoroughly shocked. How did he get into the castle? Why didn't his guards see him?

"I'm happy to see you recognize me," Chat spoke, his smile stretching. "Especially after I heard that you didn't consider me a threat, that I was simply another bothersome thief who would shortly get captured. And now look where I am, in your study with the tip of my sword pointed at your throat!"

Despite his cheerful exterior, Matheo could sense an underlying ire, one that made him gulp.

"But I'm not here for a social calling." Chat's smile instantly vanished to be replaced with a menacing glare.

He felt the sword press a bit harder into his skin, not enough to draw blood, but enough to warn Matheo that Chat wasn't fooling around.

"I'm here for answers, starting with King Alexandre's location. Where is he?"

"A-Alexandre?" he whispered, the name sending a chill down his spine. Was he working for him? Collaborating with him? No, that couldn't be, since Chat Noir just asked him where Alexandre was.

"Yes, King Alexandre. You know, your brother? The one who left to fight for more territory but who never returned, thereby letting you stay in power longer? Surely you must remember him?"

This time, Chat's sarcasm wasn't spoken with a humorous grin. The scowl on his lips stayed, causing Matheo to slightly shiver in growing fear. He had a feeling that Chat Noir would truly kill him if he so desired, if he didn't get what he wanted.

Matheo stayed silent, unsure of what to do. Should he tell him the truth, lie, or say nothing?

"What's the matter, Your Highness?" Chat asked, the title coming out in a mocking scorn. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Alexandre…I…I'm not sure where he is," Matheo lied. Lying could prove to be the safe option, at least until one of his guards discovered him. Where were they?! One of them had to check on him sooner or later!

Chat Noir's teeth gleamed in the limited light as he chuckled.

"See, you and I both know that's a lie, and a poorly made one at that. I hope you never play a card game in your life, you'd never win with such a telling face." Once more his grin disappeared. "Now tell me the truth. I'm not very patient."

To further illustrate his point, he pressed the sword harder into his throat, just so a tiny drop of blood escaped.

Matheo whimpered, in part from the slight pain and in worry of possibly more to come.

"I'm waiting," Chat murmured. A nearby candle flickering gave the illusion that his green eyes were almost glowing, like his namesake. It only served to make him appear even more threatening.

"He-" Matheo gulped, realizing that he had to tell the truth if he wanted his life to stay intact. He wasn't ready to die yet! "He's in the country Françoise-Dupont, being held prisoner for trying to conquer their land."

Chat nodded, mentally storing that key information away for later.

"And how long has he been imprisoned?" he questioned next, easing on the pressure of the sword just a bit.

"A little over a year, now," Matheo answered hurriedly, wanting more than anything for the sword to be away from him. If Chat Noir just took a step back, he could scream for his guards.

Chat's eyes widened in shock for a moment before he schooled his features into the intimidating glare once more. King Alexandre was imprisoned for more than a year?! Was he even still alive?

"Why haven't you paid to have him returned?!" he snapped, his temper sparking. In his sudden anger, he put forth more force on the rapier, eliciting a wince from the captive prince.

"I-I wanted to stay in power longer-"

"Yes, so you could one day be king. With Alexandre out of the way, there would be no one to stop you. Right?"

"R-right. P-please, let me go! Don't kill me!" Matheo begged, tears beginning to pool at his eyes.

Chat tilted his head, observing the quivering man at his mercy. It was honestly pathetic how a man who wanted to be King was here, crying and beseeching him for his life. A King wasn't supposed to yield to anyone, if they went down, they went down fighting. They didn't turn into sniveling cowards at the first sign of death.

He clicked his tongue as he stood, taking out a black strip of cloth from his pocket in the process. Matheo tensed when he saw Chat move behind him, then stiffened altogether when his world went dark.

"Wh-what are you doing?" he asked, not daring to move a muscle.

His answer was Chat's rapier poised once more at his neck, drawing out a nervous whine from the prince.

Unbeknownst to him, Chat had taken his rapier and positioned the hilt in front of a book on the desk for support. This way, he didn't have to hold it. He smirked, quite smug at his rather ingenious idea. He carried the cloth around in case he needed to make a makeshift mask, or to maybe wrap a wound. He liked what the cloth ended up actually being used for.

"That's the tip of my sword pressed against your throat. Don't move until I remove it," he ordered, no trace of amusement in his voice. He started for the hidden compartment in the wall that allowed him to enter the room in the first place.

"How long are you going to keep it there? How long will you torture me like this?!" Matheo snapped, his fear escalating into a desperate need to be free. Even so, he wasn't foolish enough to attempt any sort of action against his captor. He still had somewhat of his wits left about him.

Chat quietly snorted. If only the peasants could see who they were really afraid of. Maybe then he wouldn't have to be doing this at all.

"I'd hardly call this 'torture', Your Highness. You've never had to know the true meaning of the word."

With that last cutting remark, Chat pressed his shoulder into the special spot on the wall, letting the section silently flip around so he could make his escape. He was lucky that a servant or someone else hadn't knocked on the door to inquire after him. He would've liked to stay longer to intimidate the man further, but he knew when to retreat.

It really was a stroke of luck finding this little secret. He had been fumbling around outside, occasionally darting into bushes at the sign of a guard coming. In fact, he had been sliding along the stone wall when it suddenly gave out, leading him to tumble inside with a startled shout and the wall to quickly close itself. After regaining his bearings, he followed the path to what lead to the study, amazingly the same room that the prince was in. From there, he simply pushed on the wall again to move it and let him into the room.

Now trying to go as fast as he could in the tunnel without running, he wondered if Matheo even knew about the hidden passageway. He didn't question him of how he had gotten inside the study, which only had one door. If Matheo suspected of him discovering the tunnel, then surely he would've said something?

He shook his head, choosing not to dwell on idle suspicions.

King Alexandre was in Françoise-Dupont, being held prisoner for more than a year. They had obviously informed Matheo about this, and likely offered a price for his release, yet Matheo refused and practically surrendered his brother to them.

It made Chat's jaw tighten and his fist clench. To think, none of this would be happening if Matheo wasn't so greedy and lustful for power. They had the chance to bring back Alexandre, and Matheo ruined it.

He wouldn't have to be sneaking around in a castle corridor after threatening a royal. He wouldn't have to wear a disguise, rob people, or even use his rapier outside of official matches. He could still be in Spain, attending school and spending his leisure time with his best friend. None of this would be happening if it wasn't for this pitiful excuse of a ruler.

Although, he couldn't find it in himself to be completely resentful of what had come to pass.

If Matheo had Alexandre returned, he never would have met Marinette. When he would eventually have come home, there was a chance she would've already been married, thus leaving him with no chance to court her.

On top of that, if she was married, it could've very nearly been to Theo. With Chat Noir's arrival, the captain's attempts for her hand were somewhat stalled for the time being. If he wasn't there, then Theo wouldn't have been distracted at all in his pursuits.

While he didn't think of Marinette to submit to a demand of marriage so easily, he was fully aware that society had a way of persuasion. Perhaps her parents would've pressed her to accept him, or maybe Theo himself would've tried to threaten her with the future of being a poor, old maid if she didn't become his wife. Then again, he could've tried to entice her with a guaranteed stable future with him. A Captain of the Guard was an impressive match, her status would instantly rise upon uttering the words 'I do'.

His next thought brought his steps to a halt.

Would she have been happy with him? Would she have eventually grown to love him? Or would she have been miserable, yet always managing to plaster a smile on her face that held no hope of ever being able to reach her eyes?

He didn't want to find out.

…

"Your Highness?" Theo called as he knocked on the door. He could see light from the bottom of the door where it didn't quite meet with the floor. The Prince had to be in there, so why wasn't he answering him? He knocked again. "Prince Matheo?"

What if he was in danger?

Not wasting anymore time, he opened the door, finding the Prince blindfolded with a rapier poised at his Adam's apple.

"Are you insane?!" Theo snapped, rushing to remove the sword. With that taken care of, he took off the blindfold as well.

Matheo gasped, wildly looking around the room like a madman prior to locking eyes with his captain.

"He-he was here!" he stuttered, still looking around as if a shadow could kill him at any minute.

"Who?" Theo demanded, trying to follow the Prince's eyes.

"Chat Noir! He was here, and he threatened me, and he-oh, I told him of Alexandre's whereabouts!"

"You what?!" Theo snarled, grabbing the man by the front of his shirt. Decorum be damned. "You told him what?! How did he even get in?"

Matheo roughly explained the story in between bouts of paranoia and shivering. Theo growled and released his shirt, allowing the Prince to sink in the chair's cushion.

"You do realize that if Alexandre comes back, the both would never see the light beyond the dungeons, right?"

Matheo nodded meekly, hastily trying to come up with some way to redeem himself. Oddly enough, he found none.

Theo gripped the hilt of his sword attached to his hip. He was going to skin that cat, make no mistake of that.

…

He tried landing on her balcony as quietly as he could manage, yet somehow she still heard him. For it wasn't long after he arrived that her head poked out of the hatch leading to her room, revealing twinkling blue eyes and a cheeky grin.

"Could you imagine what the ladies of this town would say if they knew of such meetings between us?" she quipped teasingly prior to hoisting herself onto the balcony. He noticed that this time her nightgown was a light pink in color, with a white ribbon interwoven in the collar. If he didn't already know of her making dresses for the town's children, he would've assumed that she bought it.

This woman truly had talent in her craft.

A corner of his mouth quirked up of its own accord, not forgetting what she said.

"Are you implying that we're doing something that would give them cause to gossip about?" he returned smoothly, taking delight in the way her cheeks tinted pink for a moment.

"Not at all," she replied, composed but not without a hint of cheek. "I was just saying that it would be rather scandalous if the town knew that we, an innocent civilian and an outlaw, were talking freely in the middle of the night."

Chat languidly stretched his arms above his head, taking time to properly formulate a response.

"Then I guess we should take care not to get caught, hm?"

Marinette lightly laughed, crossing her arms together as she tilted her head.

"Yes, we need to be very careful, starting with you sitting down so no one sees you."

Sitting down, huh? He tried not to let the implications of that plague his mind (usually if someone invites you to sit then they plan for you to stay awhile) as he looked around, only to find one chair.

"Princess, there's only one chair," he pointed out.

She shrugged.

"So? I can stand, it doesn't matter if someone sees me."

He shook his head. Why should he get to sit and relax while she was forced to stand for whoever knows how long they would be out there?

"I'm not sitting and leaving you to stand," he answered with finality.

She shook her head with a sigh mixed with a groan escaping her lips.

"You're such a gentleman," she groused. The phrase normally was meant to be taken as a compliment, but the way she said it made it sound like a burden. However, he still took pride in it.

"Okay, how about this? I'll sit on the table while you sit in the chair. You've probably been gallivanting about all night, you deserve a break."

At her proposition, he was reminded of just how long he was on his feet that day. Suddenly his legs felt heavier, almost so that he couldn't keep standing, not to mention that his feet were throbbing.

Well, as long as she had a place to sit...

Besides, judging from the look in her now fiery eyes, he knew she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Alright, it's a deal," he decided. He moved to sit in the wicker chair, the bottom and back made soft by a pink hand-sewn cushion. Marinette grinned and propped herself up on the table, her sock-covered toes brushing against the floor.

He took a long breath before slowly releasing it. This was different. Chat Noir actually had a time to relax. No soldiers chasing him, no sneaking around, no plotting out his next move. For now he could just sit and bask in Marinette's presence without a care in the world.

"Rough night?" she guessed grimly, the first to break the silence.

He opened his eyes, picking up his head from its previously reclined position.

"Just a bit nerve-wracking, that's all. Nothing to be worried about."

She scoffed, her lips stretching into a playful smirk.

"I never said I was worried, chaton. I just noticed that you looked…well, tired."

Was he tired? Sure, he felt a bit winded, but he wasn't tired.

"Do I look that bad?" he asked with a sardonic arch of his mouth.

She shook her head.

"No, you don't look bad. Just-well, you know, tired! What happened tonight? And why was it 'nerve-wracking'?"

With no further incentive than that, he told his story of what had transpired in the prince's study that night. She was shocked to say the least, amazed of how he got in and out unscathed, and absolutely proud that he managed to confront the main source of all their problems.

He was especially thankful that his mask covered his cheeks so his blush remained hidden when she praised him for what he had done, all the while gifting him with that warm smile that sent his heart racing.

"I'm afraid my night wasn't as eventful as yours," she lamented with a strained chuckle, twisting a bit of her nightgown in between her fingers. "My parents and I just closed the bakery and had dinner before I came up here and wai-"

She stopped, clamping her lips shut tightly while her eyes widened in apparent panic.

Chat raised an eyebrow. What was she about to say? Whatever it was, he had a feeling that she wasn't about to divulge it, and so continued on as if it hadn't happened.

"You didn't have to risk your life tonight. I'd count that as a win, and much better than how my night went. So-" He paused, unsure if he should press on with his question. Would it be too personal? Well, if they were going to continue talking like this, then they should get to know each other better, right? And what better way than asking each other questions?"

"So," he started again, trying not to sound as awkward as he felt. "What are your parents like?"

"Oh." She blinked, thrown a bit by his question. She wasn't expecting him to ask about her life. She assumed these talks were going to be strictly him talking of his business in solving the problem with Matheo, with her listening and ready to offer advice.

She didn't predict that he might want to know about her personal life, of what went on during the day when he wasn't around.

That being said, she wasn't opposed to it. She found herself drawn to him, wanting to get to know him as well.

"My parents are the nicest people you could meet. They're supportive, generous, they love me even if I destroy half the kitchen in my clumsiness," she giggled. "I love them so much."

Chat smiled at now having learned something about her life, even if it wasn't even so much about her, rather than her parents.

So then he asked her a question about herself, what her favorite color was. And that's how their night went on, back and forth with questions, answers, and laughs until he departed when the day broke.