Marinette frowned as she looked over the latest policy sent out by the monarchy. New policies came as often as the newspaper nowadays, and she could confidently say every single one of them was complete bullshit. For example, their latest addition:

To ensure the safety of the royal family, all members of the royal army have complete authority and dictation over the townspeople of Paris and shall be treated with nothing but respect by commoners. Anyone who refuses submission to the royal soldiers shall be punished accordingly.

She scoffed to herself and yelled over her shoulder, "Maman! A new policy came in."

She heard her mother's muffled voice come from the kitchen. "Don't tell me they've extended curfew even more. At this rate, we might as well close the bakery." Her mother joined her behind the counter.

"It's worse." She handed the paper over.

"Oh dear." Her mother's troubled look mirrored Marinette's.

They both knew exactly why this particular policy had been passed. For the first time in his reign, the King would be touring the city of Paris today. In the past, these tours were to help the monarch observe and understand the living conditions of the people and hear their requests for any reforms. It used to be a buzz of excitement when the monarch visited town. Now, everyone was scared.

It was mainly because the royal guard was getting out of control. They were cruel to the people, and this policy was just adding fuel to the fire. The monarchy apparently wasn't turning a blind eye to their abuse anymore, instead, they were making it legal.

The monarchy became untouchable when the King took the throne. The monarch was no longer a servant to the people; they all suffered in poverty, working to appease his ridiculous policies.

In the days leading up to his arrival here in town, all of the townspeople were notified of how the proceeding would go. The monarch would be brought through in a carriage, while the townspeople bowed down to him. They were not allowed to look at him, and anyone who failed to comply would be severely punished. Any crime in the presence of the King was magnified, so it was crucial that nobody stepped a toe out of line this afternoon.

Sabine reminded her daughter of this, pointing at the policy in her hand. "They have every right to do whatever they please. You could be seriously hurt if you even look at them the wrong way-"

"I know Maman." Marinette dismissively waved her hand in her mother's direction as she grabbed a rag and started wiping down the counter.

Sabine reached out and turned Marinette to face her. "Marinette, this is serious. There will be more soldiers in this area as the proceeding gets closer, and we'll probably have some… unfriendly guests coming into the bakery." She grabbed her daughters hands and held them tight. "Please promise me that whatever happens, you'll bite your tongue. Please, honey." Marinette could see that her mother was begging her.

Marinette sighed. As much as it would pain her to let them walk all over her, she'd do anything to keep her parents out of harm's way. She would never put her pride over her family's safety.

She gave her mom's hands a reassuring squeeze. "I promise, Maman."

Marinette inhaled the sweet scent of the apple orchard. She loved coming here, it was one of her favorite places to go when she was feeling stressed or bored. She walked along the lines of small apple trees, not yet working to fill her basket, just appreciating its beauty. The orchard was one of the only places that hadn't changed in the last ten years. Whenever she came here, she was reminded of a time when life was simple. She smiled sadly as she allowed herself to reminisce.

She could picture it clearly. Running along the small paths between the trees, giggling happily, glancing over her shoulder as he ran behind her.

She stopped when she reached an open space, a lonely apple tree standing in the middle. She looked at the engravings on the trunk with sad eyes.

What happened to him?

She'd had that thought nearly every day for the past ten years. One moment, he was the sweet boy who wandered into the bakery, grasping his mother's hand tightly, filled with curiosity about the world around him. The next…

What turned her best friend into a ruthless tyrant?

She flinched every time someone said King Adrien. There was a time when he was Prince Adrien to her, but soon after he became just Adrien. Her best friend Adrien. The silly boy who couldn't get enough of the croissants her parents offered him, the boy who snuck out of the castle with his mom to come visit her, the boy with those shining emerald eyes his country loved so much.

Emilie was easily the best monarch France had ever seen, and that was saying something. Some 100 years ago, the Emerald Dynasty began with Emilie's great-grandfather. He was born with startling green eyes, and the entire country adored him. He was kind, gentle, and valued his people much more than the throne he sat upon. He passed his ideals, as well as his beautiful eye color, down to his son, who then passed them down to his son. A superstition formed as France thrived under these green-eyed monarchs, dubbed The Emeralds, and soon the people were convinced the reason their leaders were so exceptional was because of their emerald eyes.

The superstition was reinforced even more when Emilie and her twin sister, Amelie, were born. Amelie had dark brown eyes, Emilie, emerald eyes. When the King died without a male heir, Emilie was put on the throne, and she became an incredible monarch.

Emilie raised Adrien not to believe in the superstition and emphasized that a truly great monarch has an undying love for their people. Marinette could tell, even at a young age, that Adrien whole-heartedly loved the people of France and wanted every excuse to walk among them. He'd inherited his mother's beautiful eyes, but most importantly, he'd inherited her kind heart and free spirit.

So what happened to him?

Marinette knew the answer to that question. She was there when his whole world was destroyed right in front of him, but it still didn't warrant the pain he was putting his people through. If only she could talk to him, try and awaken that young spirit in him again, but she knew any attempt on her part would be fruitless.

She hadn't seen him since that fateful day ten years ago, and just thinking about being near him again this afternoon made her sick to her stomach. She was almost glad she wouldn't be allowed to look at him, because if she actually saw him again as the monster he's become, she might actually be sick.

The bakery came into view as Marinette trudged up the shallow slope leading to her small neighborhood. She felt the wind pick up around her, and she wrapped her free arm around herself, the other carrying the basket of apples. As the path began to level out, she noticed that something was off. The merchants around her were all subdued and quiet, instead of the normal cheery greetings and pleasantries she was used to hearing. She opened her mouth to ask the nearest woman what was going on, but she was cut off by the sound of breaking glass.

The front window of the bakery shattered. Broken glass scattered across the pathway and grazed a poor homeless woman sitting next to the building. Marinette dropped the basket, spilling the apples. She bolted inside.

The bakery was absolutely trashed. Croissants and muffins and cakes littered the floor, visibly having been tread on. Two royal soldiers stood over her father, who laid on the ground taking every blow they gave him without complaint. Her mother was crying not far from them, looking torn between wanting to stop them and knowing it would be futile.

"Stop!" Marinette heard the word escape her before she could stop them. The soldiers turned towards her, looking too calm for a couple of guys mercilessly beating on another person. Her eyes widened as she realized what she had done, she'd just yelled at two royal soldiers, but she steeled her gaze anyway, holding her ground.

"Marinette…" Tom breathed, shaking his head at her, eyes pleading.

One of the soldiers looked downright offended and opened his mouth to retort. However, the guy next to him placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him out of the way, his expression shifting to that of a predator about to pounce on his prey.

He stalked forward until he was close enough that she could smell the awful stench of his breath wafting over her face. He leaned closer still.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He tilted his head at her, an oily smile gracing his lips. Marinette kept her eyes fixed on the floor. She could see her father's blood on his shoes. Her heart raced, rage bubbling too close to the surface. She clenched her fists.

He leaned in so he could whisper directly into her ear. "You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?" She couldn't help physically recoiling at that. When he reached a hand up to touch her face, she took a generous step back.

"Is there a problem here?" She met his greasy stare. "Sir?" she added. She kept her expression blank, but her eyes burned with suppressed anger.

He chuckled. "No, no problem. Just a procedure, missy." He stalked forward again. "As you know, the King is coming through, and it's our job to clear the area for him. We can't have rebels like Chat Noir stalking around, now, can we?" He reached up and touched her cheek, and she bit down on her tongue, hard. She turned her face away from him.

Before he could voice the gross comment forming on his tongue, a new voice sounded from behind her.

"His Majesty is nearing. The peasants need to be in order."

The greasy soldier sighed and lowered his hand. "Damn, just when things were about to get interesting." He abruptly forced her chin up rather aggressively, forcing her to look at him again. "I'll be seeing you again." It was a statement, not a question. She felt her stomach turn over with disgust.

Once the soldier reluctantly let her go, she immediately stepped around him and crouched down next to her papa, making sure he was alright. His face was bruised and cut up, and she knew his abdomen probably was as well. She heard yelling outside as the soldiers ordered the townspeople out of their homes and into the streets. She and Sabine helped Tom stand and guided him to the door.

"Hurry your asses up!" One of the soldiers barked, and they quickened their pace. Once outside, Marinette felt her heart break as she witnessed her neighbors being subjected to the cruel treatment of the soldiers all around her. The poor homeless woman was being forced to clean up the glass on the ground, and the sweet old man across the street was being shoved into the dirt, his fruit stand laying in pieces nearby.

Marinette grasped both her parents' hands and kneeled in the dirt between them, Tom and Sabine following suit. The ground was cold, and mud soaked through her smock, no doubt staining it. The wind picked up again as the sound of the royal procession grew closer. Her mother's hands trembled, and she was certain hers did too.

She was filled with so much suppressed rage. On this very street, Marinette used to watch the Queen roam with her small son in tow, chatting with her people and receiving just as much love as she gave out. Now, along with the rest of the townspeople, her head was being roughly shoved down into a bow as the royal procession came into view. The last minute bellows of the soldiers died out as the carriage approached and a deafening silence took over.

Marinette was hyper aware of the location of the carriage. Out of the corner of her eye she could vaguely make out its appearance: large, white, with large empty windows in the doors that were covered by white veils. He was surely inside. Even if she was looking, though, she wouldn't be able to see him.

The carriage grew closer and closer, and her heartbeat grew faster and faster. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the onset of memories of the sweet blonde boy she once knew. It's not him. That's not him anymore. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes as she repeated the mantra to herself. She squeezed her parents' hands, trying to distract herself with the warmth. The carriage was now directly in front of them.

A large gust of wind and a whipping sound startled her eyes open. Instinctively, she looked up.

The veil covering the window had blown up, revealing a figure: the King himself. She felt her heart stutter as she took him in. His blonde hair was styled neatly, no longer messy like his childhood self liked it. He looked much older; he didn't have his round, youthful face anymore. His cheekbones and jaw were carefully sculpted, but his features were still relatively familiar to her. She knew the moment she looked at those gorgeous emerald eyes of his, she'd finally break, but she couldn't help herself. Her eyes locked onto his, and-

Her heart completely stopped.

Black eyes glanced lazily out the window, easily overlooking the one person that stared directly at him.

For a moment she didn't move, didn't breathe, and then all at once her heartbeat slammed powerfully in her chest and a large wave of emotion crashed over her. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as a painful sob built up in her throat. Her world felt like it was crashing down around her, and everything she had forced herself to believe for the last ten years crumbled to pieces. She couldn't feel her body anymore. She couldn't feel the icy wind whipping at her face. She couldn't feel her mother tugging on her hand, trying to get her to avert her eyes.

It's not Adrien-

It's never been-

All this time-

Then who the hell is-

Somewhere among the rubble of her thoughts, hope gleamed. The carriage rolled out of her line of sight, replaced by the wall directly across from her. Her eyes darted over the many papers plastered to the wall, including a wanted poster depicting a masked figure, the name Chat Noir printed across the bottom, until her eyes landed on one poster that spoke directly to her soul.

Its design was simple. A single eye was sketched artfully in the center, its iris painted a vibrant green, with one word handwritten across the bottom:

Remember.