Talk to Me, Princess | Marichat - Miraculous Ladybug

Chapter One - The Beginning

With a heavy heart, I sit on my balcony looking out at the vast expanse of Paris. As far as my eyes can search, the city is peaceful. No Akuma's, no disturbance. The night breeze is swift and gentle, wafting up the delicious scents from my parent's bakery down below. I can smell the mix of baked goods in with the soft summer breeze.

Summer is coming to an end now, and ahead of me is my final year of high school. The change looming ahead makes my heart seize and my stomach churn. I take deep breath's in and out, following the tutorials I saw online to help calm a racing heart.

I wouldn't say I've always struggled with anxiety. Of course I've always been an over thinker, a worry wart one might say. But in the recent months, I've started to get sick to my stomach. As if I might barf, or my heart might beat so fast I'll have a heart attack and die on the spot. Sometimes it makes me so ill that I get stomach cramps and when I go to the bathroom-
I shake my head, cringing at the stomach pain caused by my own overactive fight or flight response.

Tikki is in my room right now, I needed to take a breather and not think about anything. Yet here I am, thinking of the things I wish I didn't have to deal with. Looking out at Paris without enjoying the view I have, but rather seeking out trouble. It feels as though I can't catch a break these days. Between preparing for college applications, working at my parent's bakery, and fighting off Akuma after Akuma with no end in sight, I shiver at the thought of school starting again. The added stress of homework and exams is honestly the last thing I need right now.

"Hey there, Princess." A sudden voice snaps me out of my thoughts, letting out a scream while nearly jumping out of my own skin. Hand flying to my chest in an attempt to calm my thundering heart, the other hand gripping the railing behind me, I stare shocked at my blonde haired partner leaning against the wall of my house, a playful smirk on his face. His green eyes peer down at me, once again reminding me of the unfair height difference between us. He always taunts me for it. Well, me as in Ladybug, not that he knows that me and Ladybug are the same person.

"Chat! You scared the shit out of me, what are you doing here? Is there an Akuma?" My eyes dart around, checking to see any signs of distress that I might have missed. He chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

"Nope, nothing. Was just out and about, really. I saw you looking all doom and gloom, figured you needed your favourite kitty cat to cheer you up." He pushes himself off the wall, walking over to stand beside me next to the railing. The two of us face back out towards Paris, standing in silence for a few minutes.

"Jokes aside, how are you doing Marinette? You don't look so good." He glances over at me, and I sigh deeply. Chat Noir is the greatest partner a girl could ask for, and the best hero Paris has. Maybe the best hero the world has ever seen. We've had our rocky moments, but he's never left my side, like he always promised. However, right now, I'm not Ladybug. How am I supposed to talk to him about everything bothering me, when a good chunk of that is the stress of being Ladybug? The stress of the future, and all the uncertainties that lie ahead?

"I guess I'm just nervous. Summer is almost over, and I'm heading into my final year of high school. I have nothing to really show for it. My grades are average at best, my résumé is atrocious, and I don't know whats going to happen. I have so many dreams, but I'm bound to Paris. My life is here, my family. I guess I'm just... scared. Really, really scared." I bite the inside of my cheek, trying my best to blink away the welling tears and take deep breaths in. I can feel the burning in my nose, indicating I'm about to start crying any minute.

I can't look over at Chat, I'm scared of him seeing me like this. Sure, I'm just ordinary Marinette right now, I suppose it's not as embarrassing as having him see me cry as LadyBug. But being emotionally vulnerable when I've grown so accustomed to being alone... it's hard.