The Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir

Storms and falling in love

She was alone, as far as she knew.

There was nobody like her in the entire city, but that was a good thing. That meant they wouldn't know what to look for when searching for the cause of mysterious happenings. They wouldn't know it was her.

If she was angry, they would.

Storms whirling above her, lightning striking the ground she walked on, earthquakes shaking down nearby buildings, rain flooding the streets, tornadoes and cyclones forming in the air, sweeping up every tree and leaf, fire erupting from the ground.

She was a walking natural disaster.

She had to move continents after her last incident.

She was the definition of the calm before the storm.

But when she wasn't a catastrophe... she was a miracle.

At a caress and a whisper, she could coax blossoms from the ground. Trees grew fruit at her desire, the wind and rain bent to her will. Animals and insects listened to her sweet melody and accompanied her on journeys and trips.

And when she sang, oh when she sang... it was truly a wonder to behold. Flowers flourished at her every step, every butterfly and firefly in the area darted to her side and illuminated her in every way, the wind blew mellifluous music through the trees. It was beautiful, a marvel, utterly spectacular. She was spectacular.

Of course, only wild animals would ever witness this phenomenon.

And her pet cat, Chat Noir.

Chat Noir was a sleek, black cat with startlingly green eyes that glowed in the night. He first joined her side in Paris, hence the French name, and since has never left her side, except when she had to go to school. She listened to him talk sometimes, which would only sound like a series of meows, purrs and growls to anyone else. He had the most hilarious tales to tell, and quite a few involved her, although he usually weaved her in as a heroine or goddess. Whenever he did, he would always be rewarded with ten minutes of unadulterated attention.

She had overheard him mumbling something this morning, something about wishing to be human around her so he could be with her properly, whatever that had meant.

"Marinette! Are you even listening?"

And back to the real world.

"No, Chloe, I was not listening to yet another of your lectures of how worthless I am and how terrible at everything I am." Marinette sighed and shifted her weight onto her left leg, longing for some sunlight. "If Your Royal Highness would excuse me, I'll be going." She swerved past the blond bully known as Chloe, who scowled for the thirty-eighth time that morning. Not that she was counting.

Making her way to the library, she kept her head down, mumbling apologises to anyone she bumped into. Marinette had always been invisible, barely noticed by anyone who didn't see her regularly. She faded into the background, she melted into the shadows. Which was a good thing, should anyone find out about her powers, but it was lonely sometimes.

Entering the quiet room filled with shelves of books, she meandered through corridors framed by novels, interestedly looking at covers and titles that captured her attention. But books, however amazing, were not what she came for.

The library was a special place. At the very back, behind dusty bookshelves filled with texts on mythological creatures of lost religions, there was a trapdoor in the ceiling, and an old ladder that was constantly leaning against the wall. Through that trapdoor was a room, wooden, creaky floors, cobwebs and spiders and insects, a high, pointed roof, and a huge stained glass window tainting yellow sunlight a kaleidoscope of colours and a single white rose that glowed in the dark. It was the epitome of peace and calm, still and quiet. It was a small paradise hidden in a fast world of noise and movement.