A/N: Writer's block hit me hard with this one, but I finally got it done.

whitemagnolia1997 - Me too!

Tiger Priestess - Who said the homeless man was innocent? ;)

angelalexandra - Tysm!

Enjoy ;)

Marinette felt a hard tug on her hand. She jolted back to reality, quickly lowering her gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut, afraid that she'd soon be feeling a hand pulling her by her hair, beating her and arresting her for disrespecting the King. She waited in anticipation, listening for any movement, but none came. The only sound was the carriage now rolling down the slope and out of sight.

Did nobody see her? Perhaps the soldiers were required to avert their eyes as well? The thought occupied her mind briefly before it was drowned out by the flood of realizations from just a moment ago.

Adrien isn't on the throne.

Adrien has never been on the throne.

Beyond any doubt she knew this to be true. All these years she had to convince herself that he had changed, that he lost who he was, because she had no other explanation for what he was doing to his people. She tried believing every excuse she could, but it was never enough. The policies kept coming in with his name signed at the bottom. Her parents had even seen him on the balcony of the castle before, but she continued to try and deceive herself. Maybe someone else was passing the policies. Maybe Adrien wasn't actually the one behind this, but even if someone else was pulling the strings, the Adrien she knew would never sit back and watch his people suffer like this.

The Adrien she knew.

That's where her thoughts strayed. All of the theories, excuses, and lies she told herself were based on the fact that he was still the same kid she grew up with. She tried to ignore the fact that the trauma he went through probably changed him as a person. She knew she changed. Her childlike wonder and overly trusting personality disappeared the moment she laid eyes on Emilie's bleeding form.

Emilie's death traumatized her, but Adrien's reaction to it did just as much damage. Adrien was a sheltered child, and he was so, so pure. He was overflowing with kindness and love for everyone around him, including the people who didn't deserve it. He always held himself together, even when he was stressed or feeling down. He was amazing at hiding his feelings, hiding his vulnerabilities, but behind his optimism, she knew he felt more pressure that anyone his age should.

So when his walls broke down that day, they didn't just crack. They shattered.

His cries, the sight of him hugging his mother tightly to his chest as he pleaded with her to wake up, were seared into her mind. Seeing him finally crumble like that was so jarring, and she hasn't been a child since.

If she lost her innocence that day, she was sure he did, but did that mean he lost his morals too? Wouldn't he want to uphold his mother's legacy even more after she's gone?

Or did he have a grudge?

One of Emilie's people had been the one to end her life. Was he angry and vengeful? Did he want to restrict the people as payback for what happened to his mother at the hands of one of them?

She battled with these thoughts for ten years. She had so many questions, but nowhere to find answers. Nothing made sense. The only explanation for everything was that it was him. He changed. No matter how much she wanted to believe otherwise, at some point she had to come to that conclusion.

Now, everything she forced herself to believe was upturned.

She had more questions than ever before. Her brain hurt and her head pounded as a million different thoughts fought and scrambled to the forefront of her mind, one finally managing to get through.

Where's Adrien?

If he's never been on the throne, then where has he been all this time? She ditched her previous conclusion; she knew he'd never allow this to happen, all the horrible things the people have been going through, so then where is he? Is he still in the castle, hidden away, his voice drowned out? Was he exiled?

Is he dea-

She refused to finish that thought. No, of course he's alive. Wherever he is, he's alive. That's a fact. He must have been pushed out of the picture somehow and replaced by whoever she just saw.

Another mystery. Who the hell was that? He looked startlingly like Adrien‒ she could tell even after not seeing her best friend since he was a child‒ except for his eyes. Whoever this guy was, he was a good fake.

Now knowing the truth, everything started to click in Marinette's mind. It made sense why the King never appeared in public. It made sense why he was only ever seen from a distance. It made sense why they forbid anyone from looking directly at him. It made sense why their country was falling apart…

This man isn't their King. This man was never their King, yet nobody knew. She was certain even the royal guard was oblivious. If word about the swap got out, there would surely be a revolution.

The revolution.

Did the revolution know? Probably not. The revolution was a bit of a taboo subject; many people were still opposed to the thought of rebelling against one of their beloved Emeralds, despite the fact that they were drowning in poverty. Rumors still lingered about it, but as far as Marinette knew, the revolution was silent, and she had no idea if it was even significant anymore.

With their silence, she was sure they didn't know the truth. If they did know, they'd surely spread the news as fast as possible, or at least start the rumor, therefore increasing the size and success of the revolution.

Marinette was never sure how she felt about it. She understood why it had begun; people were fed up with the monarch and finally decided to ditch the Emerald superstition. Chat Noir was the first person to make national news by openly rebelling the monarchy, so of course he became a staple of the revolution. Those in support of the revolution thought it best to overthrow the King and place Chat Noir on the throne. Those against the revolution thought it best to have faith in their Emerald leader. Marinette shared neither of those views.

Marinette never believed in the Emerald superstition, not after getting to know a pair of Emeralds personally, but she also didn't feel comfortable with talks of the revolution. She still cared for Adrien, and since she thought he was the King, she was afraid of him getting hurt.

The few people she encountered who supported the revolution disappeared soon after. She wasn't sure whether the royal guard quietly took care of them or they somehow managed to find the elusive revolutionary army and now resided with them. Either way, she was completely blind as to how big or small the army actually was.

For some reason, though, even now that she knew the truth, she still felt a bit tentative regarding the revolution. Everything about it was unclear, and that included their motive. Were they just trying to overthrow the monarch? Were they trying to get Chat Noir in power? Were they targeting the Emerald Dynasty in particular? Just how radical were they?

The revolution was risky, but Marinette knew it held answers. Chat Noir broke into the castle and probably saw a lot while he was in there. He saw the interior of the prison and possibly other parts of the palace. What if he'd seen… Adrien? Could Adrien have been one of the prisoners freed? Then why had he been silent all these years? Maybe he was still in there? Is that where he's been all these years? Locked away out of sight?

Marinette was sure Adrien had been in the royal prison at some point, it made sense, but the real question was whether or not he was still there. If he was freed, then Chat Noir would know. If he wasn't, then the revolution could still help her get to him; if they were planning on overthrowing the monarchy, then they would be infiltrating the castle, including the royal prison.

The only way things could be fixed is if she finds Adrien and overthrows the fake monarch. Adrien is the King of France, he always has been. She knows he belongs on that throne, and not just because of superstition; he was raised by France's greatest monarch and inherited all of her ideals and love and dedication for his country. If anyone could lead and care for France, it would be Adrien.

She wanted her life back. The only thing that stopped her before was her connection to who she thought was her King, but now that she knew it was never him at all, she had no reason to stay put any longer.

It was time for her to join the revolution.

Marinette was on edge as she peered through the bakery window. The greasy soldier from earlier was trying to make his way back over, but his superior was rounding up the soldiers to go clear out the next location. She let out a small breath of relief when they finally departed, then she turned to face the mess before her.

Sabine and Tom stood surveying the ruins of their bakery. The display tables were overturned, but some still seemed to be intact. Most of the shelves had been ripped from the wall, leaving bits of pastry and splinters of wood littering the floor. It would cost quite a sum to buy new shelves and also fix the shattered window. It would cost money they didn't have.

Sabine turned to face her daughter instead. She looked frightened. "Marinette, what happened back there? You looked right at the carriage!"

It took Marinette a moment to drag herself out of her messy thoughts. "What? The carriage?" she asked dumbly.

"Yes! What if someone had seen you? You could've gotten into some serious trouble!"

Marinette just nodded, mind still hazy from her recent revelation.

Sabine's expression turned worried. "Marinette?" She walked forward and grabbed her daughter's shoulders. "Are you okay?" She gasped softly. "Did you… you saw him, didn't you? Oh honey…" Her eyes glistened.

Marinette's eyes teared up too. "I saw him, Maman." Her thoughts clustered together and she felt the words build up, ready to come pouring out. "It's not what you think though. The King, he's not-"

But she cut herself off. No, telling her parents the truth would be a big mistake. If anyone found out they knew, they'd be executed immediately. Besides, would they even believe her? Would they think she just saw what she wanted to see? Say they did believe her; knowing the risks, they surely wouldn't let her run off to find Adrien, let alone go join the revolutionary army.

Marinette switched tactics mid sentence. "Can I go away for a while?"

Sabine and Tom exchanged startled looks. "What do you mean, Marinette?" Tom asked.

Her mind raced as she tried to form an explanation. "Um… Well, seeing him today brought back some… unpleasant memories… and with everything that happened today... I just want to get away from it for a little bit, maybe travel around Paris and... meet other people." Marinette bit her lip. The excuse was weak and choppy, but it was all she could come up with.

Sabine shook her head. "I know it must be tough, sweetie, but traveling? Right now?"

Marinette rushed to correct the doubt in her mother's voice. "I know it's dangerous, but I can go under the guise of finding a place to expand the bakery. You guys have talked about doing that before."

Sabine and Tom continued to stare, looking troubled.

Marinette sighed and gave her parents a gentle smile. "I'm an adult now. I can take care of myself, so you don't need to worry. Besides, I'll write to you." She reached for her mother's hands and squeezed them. "I've always wanted to do this, please let me."

Tom and Sabine looked at each other again; this time their expressions were soft. Sabine turned back to Marinette and cupped her face.

"No matter how old you are, we'll never stop worrying about you." Sabine took a deep breath. "When did you want to leave?"

Marinette sat on her bed, a bag packed full of clothes next to her. She stared down at the ruby red earrings in her palm, the same earrings that had been hidden in a drawer for nearly a decade. They were just as beautiful as she remembered. Just like when she first laid eyes on them, they evoked a pleasant feeling of awe in her, but now there was a hint of sorrow and nostalgia as well.

She missed him, the young boy who had given her these, grinning as he hid them behind his back, knowing full well she'd just watched him buy them. She knew no matter where he was now, he wasn't that boy anymore. That boy was gone.

She let her thoughts stray to the journey ahead of her. She would be leaving soon, and she had no idea where she was going. All she knew was that she'd keep moving, collecting as much information as she could. She figured after enough time, she'd get lucky.

Marinette wrapped her fingers around the earrings before turning and dropping them in a side pocket in her bag. Perhaps they'd give her some luck, hopefully leading her towards the person who gave them to her.

She knew this journey wouldn't be easy. She would need to keep a low profile for the coming weeks, maybe months. She'd need to get as much information as possible without being too suspicious. If she endangered herself, she endangered her parents. If she could keep her identity hidden, she'd have a better chance at navigating around without worry.

Marinette glanced over at her vanity. She stood and walked over to it, hesitantly pulling open one of the drawers. A pair of scissors lay in the corner. She eyed them for a moment before she picked them up and sat down, staring at her reflection.

Her hair was long; a few more inches and it would reach her waist. She bit her lip as she reached up and grabbed a lock of hair. Cutting it would surely make her look different, helping her with her disguise. She still felt hesitant. She stared down at the scissors before her gaze strayed to the mirror again, eyeing the reflection of the bag behind her.

She was suddenly filled with a bout of resolve. Her hair was trivial. This was to get her life back, to get the lives of the people back, to restore her beloved country back to the way it was.

I'm doing it for us. For him.

She raised the scissors and began furiously cutting through the lock of hair. She didn't care for small sections and grabbed large chucks, scissors unevenly sawing through the hair like it was rope. Lock after lock fell to the floor. A few minutes later, she dropped the scissors on the vanity with a clatter.

She couldn't help the small surge of emotion deep inside her at the sight of her reflection. Her hair was choppy and uneven, right around shoulder length. She slowly lifted her hands and wrapped them around two sections, creating the appearance of pigtails. Her eyes stung.

The last time her hair was this short, the last time she'd ever had them in this hairstyle, was back when he was still around. After Emilie's death, she'd forgotten about her hair and let it grow out. One day her mother pointed it out, but she couldn't bring herself to cut it. It felt like a feeble attempt to go back to how things were.

Seeing it now, she felt like a stranger. It felt like she was impersonating someone else; she wasn't that little girl anymore. She took a deep breath and lowered her hands. She swallowed down her fears and doubts, her gaze hardening. She grabbed the scissors and worked on evening out her hair.

Right. I'm not that girl anymore.

No longer was she the innocent girl who tripped and stumbled. No longer was she the girl who stared up at the clouds in wonder. No longer was she the girl who laid in bed at night and mourned the life she lost.

Just then, she became someone else, someone stronger. Someone determined to find answers, someone set on finding the friend she lost, someone who would get off her ass and fix her broken life.

Now, nothing would stop her.