All For Love

Chapter 1

A/N - The time period for this story is around the 1860's. The story however is set in a fictitious world and is not intended to be historically accurate. I hope you enjoy 💜

When there's love inside
I swear I'll always be strong
Then there's a reason why
I'll prove to you we belong
I'll be the wall that protects you
From the wind and the rain
From the hurt and the pain

Let's make it, all for one and all for love.
("All For Love" by Bryan Adams)

~~~~~

Marinette collapsed onto the small cot that had been allocated to her. She was so exhausted it felt like the exhaustion had seeped into her bones. She desperately wanted to sleep, but the sound of canon fire in the distance made it difficult to relax. The battle had been steadily getting closer to where the field hospital was set up inside an old cathedral. Where rows of pews had once been, now there were rows of makeshift beds full of young men caught up in a war not of their choosing.

"Marinette?"

Marinette slowly opened her eyes and Alya's face came more into focus. She looked about as exhausted as Marinette felt.

"I'm sorry to wake you honey, but there are more casualties coming in and they need all hands on deck."

Marinette nodded her head and Alya helped her to sit up. Outside the door they could hear the rushing of feet, the field surgeon calling out for morphine and more bandages, both of which were in short supply.

"Have you heard from Ivan and Mylène?" She asked, but Alya shook her head.

"There has been heavy fighting near the river. The underground is trying to get supplies through, but it's been difficult. Come on. The head surgeon is looking for you."

Marinette grabbed a stained but clean apron and put it over her pale blue nurses outfit. Tucking her hair up into the matching bonnet she looked somewhat presentable as she caught her reflection in the mirror. She looked pale, the lack of sleep over the last few nights of heavy fighting taking a toll and making her look older than her 19 years.

The lateness of the hour meant most of the patients were in varying degrees of sleep, but that didn't stop the groans of pain that would escape their lips. Marinette stopped to scoop water from a bucket into a cup and hold it to the parched lips of a soldier, begging to quench his thirst.

"Bless you." He whispered. "Bless you." As he sipped the water. Beside him, two men were talking quietly by candlelight.

"... I heard he single handedly rescued three men that were taken as prisoners of war."

"I heard he went behind enemy lines and documents were stolen. I hope he got out with them. We need a lucky break in this war."

"I'm sure he did. He seems to be invincible. They say he has reflexes like a cat and no one can touch him."

"Stealth too. He slips in and out of the shadows. I guess that's why they call him Chat Noir."

"I wish I could meet him and shake his hand. The man is a hero, even if we don't know his name."

It wasn't the first time Marinette had heard the men talking about Chat Noir. Over the two years since the war began, the exploits of the hooded hero and his comrades had been stirring passion and patriotism among the soldiers of DuPont and they often speak of him in revered hushed whispers. Being on the edge of the border so far from the Capital, Marinette wondered if the King even knew about the bravery of those who fought for their country. How individuals, like Chat Noir, risked their lives and inspired those around them to keep fighting. She wished him luck with his mission. God knows they could use some good news in this war.