Noblesse Oblige

Chapitre quatre

Author stuff: So, a good portion of these chapters end in a cliffhanger. I didn't realize that until I was editing this draft of the story. I'm going to say this now so I don't have to in the future. Sorry! It was never intentional.

I just really had a knack for figuring out how to end each chapter for this story.

Chapitre quatre

Going Back To Sleep Would Be Better

The first thing that registered in her mind when she woke up was how warm she was and how soft the bed was. Her bed was never this warm or this soft. The second was that it was raining. She could hear the insistent pitter patter of the rain on the windowsill.

Cracking her eyes open, she saw tan rocks rising up all around her. Oh. She was inside the prison itself.

She immediately sat straight up and looked at the door. It was open enough for someone a little bigger than her to easily slip in and out, however the iron had long since rusted in place. She could leave if she wanted – though her body protested at too much movement. And it was cold.

She pulled the blankets – wool and animal hide, soft and durable – closer to her small frame, and she looked about.

The walls were intricately carved with strange figures. She could easily place the crucifix among the pictures, and she was sure many of them were people. Were they Biblical stories? She wasn't sure. Most of the readings on the Sabbath were in Latin, and she never understood any of it.

She settled back down on the bed and studied the ones that decorated the ceiling – really, they had carved images into the ceiling! Unlike the ones on the walls, the pictures on the ceiling looked newer. There was a woman – she thought it was a woman – and a man with a bow. And... were those maps of stars? Yes, they looked like it. It was rather beautiful.

"Oh, good, you're awake."

Marinette wasn't sure who she thought would greet her when they realized she was no longer asleep, but she never once thought it would be Alya. She friend stood there, smiling, a tray balanced in her hands.

Alya slipped through the door and over to the bedside. Marinette sat up, watching as her friend sat down next to her as she settled the tray on her lap.

"Before you say anything," Alya said, "I was told that I'd be the one checking in on you and making sure that you were okay before receiving any other guests."

"Guests?" Marinette said, confused. "Alya –"

"And before you ask: Yes, I know where Chat Noir's camp is. I've known for quite a while now. I didn't think you would be stupid enough to go out without me to go look for it. We could have avoided the whole injured damsel thing you've got going on."

"I'm not a damsel."

Alya snorted.

"Wait, you've known where Chat Noir's camp is? Why didn't you just take me here in the first place?"

"Your mom is really worried about you, you know. You didn't come home at all yesterday after the market closed. Nathaniel, Max, and I had to make up some lame excuse to even come out this way. Marinette, you really are stupid."

"You've known he was here the whole time? Why tease me? Is this a joke? Are you trying to get my dad killed?"

"Are you?" Marinette snapped her mouth shut at that. Alya glared at her. "The whole town is in an uproar over you. The Sheriff believes that you're conspiring with Chat Noir behind his back. Marinette, your father has already been arrested for apparently aiding him. I don't think he'd want you in there as well. Think next time before you act, please."

"I'm sorry," she said. "But... I had to find him. He might help my dad."

"If you just asked like we'd been trying to get you to –"

"Who?"

"Nathaniel, Max, and me. We've been trying to get you to ask one of us to help you find this place. We set up a bunch of hints."

"No, you didn't."

"Marinette, we did. We can't be blamed if you didn't see them."

"Sorry to interrupt," a voice from the doorway said, "but I wanted to check up on our lovely guest."

Marinette turned to see Chat Noir, more casually dressed than the last time she saw him – well, first and last time she saw him, really it was only that one time. The concern on his face, even under the mask, was evident.

"She's fine," Alya said, patting Marinette's leg. The dark haired girl winced as her left ankle was jostled. "Oh, sorry. Forgot about that."

Chat Noir moved to the foot of the bed, rummaging around in a trunk that was hidden from her view. He retrieved another blanket from it, bundling it up into a ball. He gestured for Alya to move – which she did – and he lifted the blankets keeping Marinette warm.

She bit back a yelp as the cold air met her skin, and she could only watch wide eyed as he delicately placed her injured ankle on the bundle. He was so gentle, cradling her injured leg as if it were something precious. He didn't meet her eyes until after he rearranged the blankets to hide her leg once again.

Marinette felt herself grow hotter under his gaze. A man had never seen her bare ankles or legs before. A man had never seen her in bed before. A man had never done anything like that before. She wasn't sure if she was embarrassed or enraged by those thoughts.

"I apologize again for interrupting," he said, keeping his intense, green eyes on her. "Good morning, Princess." Alya snorted at that. "Or, should I say, good afternoon. You've slept a better part of the day away in my bed."

"In your..." Marinette said. She felt herself grow cold in an instant. She looked down at the blankets, bunched under her fingers. Dear most gracious God above.

"It's quite fine. The ground in here isn't as hard as many people actually believe. It's actually quite comfortable, if a bit rocky. Tell me, Princess, how did you sleep?"

Marinette wanted to answer him – really, she did – but her brain didn't seem to be working. His eyes were so full of mirth that she wanted to slap him. He was incorrigibly cheeky.

"This is the only occurrence in which I have had the pleasure of entertaining a lady of so fine a caliber in my bed, I'm curious as to your thoughts. Is it not soft enough? Is it too soft? Were you too cold? Too warm?"

She openly gaped at him, her eyes flickering to Alya from time to time. Her friend was snickering behind her hands. With no help from Alya and her brain officially void of any and all helpful thoughts, she did the only logical thing she could think of – she slapped him.

"I'm not a lady," she heard herself say. "I'm just a baker's daughter."

Well, that could have gone better.

Author stuff cont'd.: So! Fun fact. The caves/prison where Chat Noir set up camp was heavily inspired by the ones that were used to imprison Templar knights during the Crusades as they illegally made their way through France. They weren't really good guys.

Basically, the Crusades were an anti-Muslim terrorist movement — well, several movements, truthfully — that was being fed by the Latin Church to regain territory that was "lost" to Christians. All in the name of a pilgrimage to gain piety while extorting the Jewish communities for funding. That is a short version of it anyway.

(If it isn't noticeable, I have... strong feelings about the Crusades. I say this as someone who has always been fascinated by them.)

Still, the knights left behind some pretty neat graffiti in their prison cells which I always liked looking at. I recommend looking at them.

If anyone has any questions or anything, feel free to bug me on tumblr at forgottenyogurtgods. I can usually get back to you in a couple of hours.