A Timeless Miraculous Tale

The Gallery ✈︎

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This Chapter will Contain depictions of War.
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Adrien was standing in a high end fashion gallery in the United States, he was there representing his father's brand much to his dismay, the 23 year old was getting ready to take over his father's company, but according to his father, he had to find a wife first, a woman of high status, but not enough to overpower him in social situations, taking in his surroundings he saw a bag, it was beautifully designed, it looked aged, far older than anything in this exhibition of luxury purses and clothing, though, it had withstood the tests of time from what it looked like. Walking up to it, he studied the worn fabric, his gaze so intense, he failed to notice an elderly woman walking up next to him.

"It's beautiful isn't it? It was salvaged from an old Revolutionary War Zone." The older woman spoke as she looked at the bag that was weathered from the tests of time but still beautifully crafted, the initials AGDV long faded into the black leather, all stitches seemed in tact except for one intricately sewn space.
"Is there any way I can get a closer look at it?" Adrien requested, wanting to look closer at the bag that had seemed to have so much care and love sewn into every fiber of its creation. He wanted a closer look, he felt like he needed that bag in his hands.
"I'll see what I can do young man." The older woman spoke, going and speaking to a supervisor of the gallery then pointing to the bag Adrien was so thoroughly examining.

Walking over, the supervisor opened the case with the artifact, pulling it out, and gently presenting the bag to the young man who'd taken such an interest in the object, Adriens eyes almost seemed to roll back as he touched the delicate laces, finding a pocket even the owner of said bag didn't know was there, and pulling out a small sliver of paper that had some faded writing on it.

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1776
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The 19 year old young man stood amongst bodies, in the middle of a warzone, Adrien Graham De Vanily had been sent to America as a soldier for the British army, but he wasn't a fighter, he wished to be home with his other family, his father had been to old to participate so as the strapping young man he was, he was sent in his stead. Standing on the battle field he saw combat medics swarming the field as the battle had moved elsewhere for the time being, women and men alike, it didn't matter the alignment they were helping everyone, Adrien limped towards a woman who seemed to know what she was doing, dropping his rifle he felt the urge to beg for help, she was an American, though she didn't look like the others, like her family had come from elsewhere, tripping over a corpse he reached out for help, being one of the few British left in this part of the battle he reached out his hand to her.

"Please help me." He cried, reaching to the young woman who quickly came to his aid, her accent was French, but she seemed to speak English fluidly, Adrien looked up to have his green eyes met with beautiful blue eyes that charmed him instantly.
"What's your name?" Her angelic voice asked as she helped him to his feet, he limped as she supported some of his weight.
"Adrien, what's yours?" He wanted to know the name of the beautiful girl who was now caring for him in his time of injury and need.
"Marinette." She returned the favor of him giving her his name by giving him hers, she was stunning, a beauty he'd never seen in his lifetime, a woman he wouldn't have minded taking home to his mother and father.

Limping along side the beauty he now knew as Marinette, he knew she was on the american side of the war, which was unfortunate cause if she had come onto the battle field just a few minutes earlier she would've been killed for being a traitor to their country, even if she wasn't an American citizen, they entered a large tent where there were wounded American soldiers, and she seemed to rush him into a shut off room and began his treatment. People were coming in and out of the room speaking French which Adriens mother had taught him from an early age, he could see dead bodies being wheeled out of the building to be buried as people would come in and out of the room, the scent of blood and death staining his nostrils worse here than it was on the battle field. He watched as Marinette tore his pant leg open, examining the location where a bullet had entered his leg.