Harsh Goodbyes & Butterflies {LadyNoir/Adriette}

Chapter 1

Ladybug

Ever since I was little, I would search for every little flaw. Every slip, every mistake, every slight in the least left me with bitter and angry thoughts directed only towards myself. To say that I was hard on myself was an amusing understatement. After all, I was the daughter of world-famous bakers, and I couldn't bake. My dreams were to be a famous fashion designer, and yet sticky situations left me tongue-tied and nervous. As much as I prepared and fretted over every detail, it would never turn out the way I felt it needed to be. I criticized everything about myself, and for that, I was lonely. Not physically - I had a best friend who tried her very best to understand me and to be there for me even when I couldn't explain what was wrong - but emotionally. I didn't feel ready to face the world as I was.

And then, it happened.

One of my most cherished memories was from my childhood; the hours I spent freed from the constraints of my household, roaming and exploring to my little heart's content. I would be pirates and conquistadors and valiant Frenchmen by myself, thoroughly enjoying the blissfully fluid conversations in my mind. It had never been easy for me to turn my thoughts into words, to convey my feelings out loud. But there, without the grasp of others weighing on my shoulders, with only my mind and my conscious to hinder me, I felt as at-ease as I could be. And so I wandered in pure curiosity. Through the valleys and hills, little parks and streams, past the Louvre and the endless cafes to the famous Arc De Triumphe and the glittering Eiffel Tower, the whole world seemed to be at my fingertips.

And yet I always returned to one place in particular.

It was a few blocks down from where my parent's patisserie was located, taking a right after the barber shop with the pretty yellow peonies and following down that cross-street for a bit until reaching the general store. I would then follow the little cobblestone trail past the store and into a light thicket which opened up on a car park. From there, a quick slide through the fence on the side of the lot opposite from the road and I was there. It seemed bizarre and quite hard to remember at first, but soon, it became more routine than anything.

And there it was. Even through my years and years of visits, the place had never lost its luster. A beautiful little break in the city, completely unknown to the vast majority of Parisians; my own garden of tranquility. The area, hidden for the most part behind a fence long since overgrown with ivy, had barely been touched - the leaves covered the expanse of ground, and gently swaying trees blocked visitors from seeing much. But that's what I loved about it - it wasn't what it seemed. In the countless times I had went, I had never given up on the seemingly simple beauty of the special little place. It seemed far too boring for something so well-ignored. And so I kept looking. I went there every day for months, searching, searching for something that would signify that this place was meant to be discovered, not just happened upon.

Then, that one faithful day. After a particularly bad fight with Alya, which resulted in me running blindly into my room and slamming the door, frightening the customers of the patisserie and therefore infuriating my parents, I slipped out in a winter coat in the middle of a particularly warm autumn, heading to the only place I knew to go to. Throwing the hood over my head and stuffing my hands in the pockets made the chill of betrayal feel a little less biting. I tried to calm the slamming of my feet on the pavement - any more stamping and the civilians at the cafés would be disturbed - and instead just focused on my breathing. I could not have gotten to the alcove faster if I'd tried. Hitting my head on the top of the fence as I threw myself through my makeshift doorway, I broke into a run, not caring a bit where I ended up. I just willed my feet to take me somewhere else - anywhere else - but here.

My feet stopped only when I felt my legs give out. My knees buckled and I fell forward, hitting my head on the soft dirt ground when I forgot to break my fall with my hands. I lay there for a moment, unhappily enjoying the cool feeling of the forest floor on my flushed cheeks, and then sat up, a little dazed. I blinked hard and looked up.

It was beautiful. The trees, decked in their fall colors, waved their branch arms to me softly and thinned as they opened up on a small clearing. A beautiful little stream emerged from the slope of a rolling hill, a pile of wet rocks gleaming in the sun showing their ebony black and ivory white stripes. Flowers bloomed and reached for the sky in hues of pink and purple and yellow, thriving next to the river that surrounded them. The entire clearing was decked in the deep orange glow of early evening, which lit up the rocks and the water and sent reflections across to the bark of the trees. I had to consciously remind myself to breathe.

I threw off my coat, suddenly desperate to feel the natural warmth of the late autumn sun on my sweat-soaked limbs, and found myself staring at my hands. The hands of an artist, calloused and nimble, covered with superficial scratches and invisible pinpricks from sewing needles and thumbtacks, far too long and pale and spiderlike for my liking. But now, bathed in color from the setting sun, they seemed fragile and fascinating, and I felt myself smiling for the first time in what seemed like forever. It was simple, and yet so impactful. I felt my breathing steady.

And then, a splash of color. A dash of contrast, a flash of brilliance. A hue so gorgeous I couldn't believe my eyes. A ladybug, small and delicate, landed on the ring finger of my left hand. I felt my focus go to the sensation of minuscule feet against sensitive skin, not flinching but cherishing the feeling of such a stunning creature gracing what was, for the most part, one of my least favorite parts about myself. I let my hands rest on my knees, eyes still trained on the little bug, desperately willing it not to move an inch.

Then, suddenly, a voice.

"Marinette?"

I gasped, frantically looking around, and my hands automatically flew to the ribbons in my hair. I tugged on them nervously, eyes darting, mind chaotic. I bit my lip and tried to breathe, speak, anything, but nothing came out. I let out a hiss of frustration.

"Marinette, it's okay. Please stay calm. Look at me."

The voice seemed to be coming from the direction my body was facing, and I felt panic rise in my throat. Moving at an excruciatingly slow speed, the tendons in my neck straining from the pressure, I turned, squeezing my eyes shut in fear.

"Marinette."

"Yes?" My voice came out a timid squeak.

"Please, open your eyes."

♡ ♡ ♡

Hi there!

It's very nice to meet you. My name's Rima, and I'd like to thank you for taking your time to click on this story and read the first chapter of my LadyNoir/Adriette fanfiction! Though Miraculous Ladybug is a very new show, I've fallen in love with it fast, and I simply could not stand to just sit around and wait for the next episodes to come out, so I decided to take matters into my own hands and start my own story. It will generally follow the story of prior ML episodes, but with a twist. All in all, I'll try my best to update these chapters as soon as I can, but, if you'd like to help, a little feedback goes a long way! I really hope you enjoy, and really appreciate you supporting this story. Please support Miraculous Ladybug when it airs in your area!

~ RJ ~