Noblesse Oblige

Chapitre neuf

Author stuff: Nine chapters in and I didn't mention a plot point that's canon. So, Adrien/Cat/Chat is not allergic to feathers in this. To be completely truthful, I forgot that he was after I had this mostly complete.

Chapitre neuf

Lady Love

Chat Noir's Adam's apple bobbed attractively as he gulped down his nerves. His green eyes widened as he stared at her, pupils dilating.

"That's," he said, his voice a bit higher than normal. He gulped again, setting down his bowl of food and the spoon. "No man likes to hear those words. Ever."

"It's nothing bad," she said, holding up her hands in an attempt to quell any fear he might have. At her next words, he walked, slowly, toward her. "It's about my father."

"He's doing quite well, I told you that last night. They're giving him more than enough food – good food, too. His cell isn't too bad. They gave him blankets. It's better than most in his situation have ever received."

"You checked on him? You did it today? How? When?"

"No, no. Sorry. They won't let me go, my friends. I've... I told you this, last night. A select few are willing to take a few risks to help out."

"They won't let you go?" She walked further into the room, looking about. This was just a temporary residence. There were no personal belongings – other than his bow, a full quiver, and his quarterstaff. "How come?"

"Too big a risk. I would go myself, but they... they don't think I should risk myself for something one of them can do better. I'm more at home there in the forest than here in the village."

"Your friends don't want to see you get hurt," she said, feeling realization wash over her. They thought of him not as a leader but as a friend, a confidant, someone worth risking their lives for. And she understood what she had decided to do shortly after meeting him..

"No one wants to see someone they care about get hurt," he said. She caught the way he looked at her. It almost made her flush, but the distant, hazy look in his eye? He was thinking of someone else, his lady love.

A part of her twinged at that thought. He had someone he loved – someone who loved him. Someone who, no doubt, missed him and wanted to see him again.

"Chat, what are your plans to rescue my father?" she said, trying to rid herself of her previous thoughts.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, Princess. We have a plan. It's a good one."

"Can you tell me about it? I want to know if there is more that I can do to help."

He sighed, walking past her to sit back down at the table with his food. It was probably cold, now.

"You know about the tournament?" he said, looking at her. "What am I saying, of course you know about the tournament. You're probably going to wear something fur-ry purr-ty."

She almost groaned. He was back to the flirty, pun-spewing tom cat again. Perfect.

"Yes," she said, "I'm making something – or trying to, at least. I like sewing, so it's not that big of a deal."

If he seemed shocked by the new information, he didn't show it. His green eyes were still trained on her. It was starting to get unnerving.

"So, this plan, it has to do with the tourney?"

He didn't get to answer her, however. Nathaniel barged in, looking a little frantic. He looked between them, heaving for breath.

"Vicomte's men," he said, "they... downstairs."

Chat Noir nodded and got back up. He took Marinette's hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles, his eyes locked onto her's. She felt herself heat from the tips of her toes to the tops of her ears.

"I'm sorry to cut this short, Princess," he said, his lips and hot breath still too close to her hand. "But I'm afraid that I'm going to have to leave you here. Until we meet again. Please, enjoy the strawberry tart. It's my favorite."

He pressed one more kiss to her knuckles, grabbed his things, and left out the window. She stared after him, her cheeks feeling unbearably hot.

"You know," Nathaniel said, crossing the room over to her and folding his arms in front of his chest, "he never uses a door anymore."

. . .

She ended up staying in the room that Chat Noir had occupied that night. The bed was very comfy – though not as much as the one back home – and Marlena provided Marinette with a simple breakfast before she headed back to the boulangerie.

Alya joined her on the walk there, yawning widely and staving off the drowsiness that clung to the very early morning air. She didn't look any better than Marinette felt. They shuffled along together in silence.

Several times, Marinette swore they were being watched. However, whenever she would look in the direction that she felt the gaze, she barely caught a glimpse of a shadow flickering in the early morning sun.

"Your alley cat has his spies watching you," Alya said, cupping a hand in front of her mouth to stifle a yawn. She still, somehow, managed to smirk.

"Spies?" Marinette said, eyebrows shooting up.

"Don't worry, they like you. A lot."

"That's... good. I guess."

The shadowy figures – Chat Noir's spies – continued to watch them until they reached the safety of the boulangerie. And, even then, she was sure they kept an eye or twelve on her.

If her mother was surprised, she didn't show it. Sabine kissed both girls on their cheeks and immediately shooed them to their usual work stations.

The morning passed quickly and – by the end of it – Marinette was exhausted, though that might have had something to do with her late night visit to the tavern. She collapsed on her bed some time after mid morning and didn't wake until late in the afternoon.

She was woken by the sound of something dry catching the wind. Turning her head, she saw a brittle piece of paper tucked between the folds of her window shutters.

She shuffled over, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The paper wasn't as dry as it seemed when she finally plucked it out. The wind had simply caught it just right to make a fuss. It wasn't sealed shut, which probably helped.

On the inside, in clean even strokes, was an unfamiliar handwriting. It was narrow and precise – which, knowing the writer, was accurate.

"We need to talk. Come to the Manor as soon as you are able."

At the bottom, was a signature of sorts. A clump of dried wax with the imprint of a family crest made by a signet ring – a butterfly boxed in by swords.

Felix Agreste wanted to speak with her again.

Author stuff cont'd.: I am so glad I have the next two days off. I really need some time to just relax. I haven't been able to do that in... two months? That'll be nice.

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