To My Dearly Detested | ✎

5 | dreaming of a winter wonderland

Marinette's words about her homeland opened a whole new door of opportunity for Adrien. When she talked about her world, about a place that he knew nothing about, he found himself only wanting to know more—and he realized that perhaps one day, he might be able to see it for himself. After all, she had basically insinuated that she might take him to see snow for himself, that she might invite him into her homeland.

He wasn't much for stepping foot into enemy territory, but he felt like as long as he had Marinette guiding him, he had nothing to worry about.

He could practically picture a scenario in his mind. He could picture the ground beneath his feet covered in white and common folk from her country all frolicking through it—even the children. Marinette told him about how they all came together, about how even she and her parents participated in the village's 'snow day' customs, as she called them. They would throw snowballs at each other or build snow forts and snowmen.

He was surprisingly willing to experience these commoner traditions for himself. For the once-in-a-lifetime experience, he would do it.

Every day following the first day he ever fell in love with a book, the prince and princess continued to visit the library together. There wasn't really anything else he preferred to do, and Marinette didn't seem to mind the endless hours they spent surrounded by books. He read more books; she read more books. They even read a book together.

And they talked and talked and talked and talked...

"What do you mean you do not have a favorite color?" Marinette asked in disbelief as they sat side-by-side on the floor once again, leaning up against a bookcase in the fiction section of the library, of course. "Everyone has a favorite color!"

He wanted to point out that he was almost certain his father didn't, but instead, he smiled and said, "Have you asked everyone across the realm what their favorite color is?"

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him, clearly unamused by his sarcastic remark. Yet, somehow she still had a smile on her lips. "I have not met a single person who does not favor a particular color."

It was hard to fathom that people wasted their time on such minuscule things. Adrien had never considered favoring a particular color before. What was the point of it?

"I... I have never been asked this before." He admitted, a bit stunned by how he should answer. "I never even thought to favor a color."

Marinette frowned slightly but mostly in confusion. "It has never crossed your mind?"

"Never," he admitted, shaking his head. "I will need time to consider what it might be."

She hummed in clear disappointment at his response, but her disappointment wasn't directed at him for being unable to answer. It was due to the fact that he'd never had a favorite color before... almost as if she was upset that he was missing out because of it.

"Well... mine is pink," she responded. Her smile returned slightly then. Before he could comment on that, though, she jumped to her next question. "What about food? You must have a favorite food."

"Now that I do have," he replied with a smile. "It was a dish my mother used to make—a crème, in fact. Nothing has ever tasted better than that."

"What is it called?"

"I do not believe it ever had a proper name. I only ever knew it as crème. I used to eat it all the time when I was a young boy." The memory of her crème was still fresh on his tongue. He could still taste it despite having last eaten it many years ago. "Many have tried to recreate it... but it simply does not taste the same when they try."