17. Chapter 16

A/N: To clear up any confusion from the previous chapter, Marinette knows his name is Adrien. She doesn't know he's the prince. It's back in "Chapter 4" that she learns at their wedding that his name is Adrien Noir.

Morning had come with a whole new set of fears. Strange since she had been fine last night. She had felt confident comforting Adrien. Furthermore, she had no problem with him reaching for her hand under the dinner table that night. But this morning, she could admit she was scared, mostly because she was encroaching new territory. This was flouting the line of friendship and romance. Egged on by her heart. Held back by uncertainty.

She wished for some guidance.

That's why she was rereading her parent's most recent letter for the third time that morning. They were happy for her. Very happy. It seemed the more she told them about Adrien, the more they approved of him. It didn't matter that he suffered from nightmares, Papa had commended him for going to war in the first place. And as for Maman's opinion…

Marinette swallowed her fear as she reread her mother's lines.

Encourage his advances, Marinette. Every little thing. Don't be afraid to advance some on your own. Pretend as though you are courting, if that helps. I can tell you care deeply for him, and from the sounds of it, he cares deeply for you. I have no doubt you two will grow closer than you ever thought possible.

What scared Marinette was how easy it was to follow Maman's advice.

Tikki had been kind enough to bring breakfast up for her and offer the advice she could, which had been the same as her mother's. "I see the way he cares for you," she had said. "And I see the way you care for him. Have the courage to keep advancing this relationship of yours, and it will grow strong."

Tikki had taken her leave not long after, something Marinette appreciated considering the way her face had heated up and her stomach had stirred.

Eager to clear her frantic thoughts, she left her room. She wandered the hallways of the increasingly familiar house, hoping that the torrent of thoughts would clear so she could at least make a decision.

"I can take care of myself, Lord Lahiffe."

Marinette froze in place upon hearing the threat. Looking around the corner of the hall, she groaned. They were at it again. Nino and Alya. Oh, those two! She didn't know what the problem was between them was. She only knew that they fought near every time they passed each other.

"I never said you couldn't. Your tongue is obviously sharp enough to be a real weapon."

Furthermore, why they couldn't just stop was beyond her, along with everyone else in the household. It had been amusing at first, listening to the two of them go at it. Now, Marinette wished they would end their feud.

"Yet, clearly, you're stupid enough to come back for a lashing."

"Sure, and you're stupid enough to swing at an innocent."

"Innocent?!" Alya sputtered. "The man who insults me on a daily basis?"

"I don't insult you lest you're screaming loud enough for the king to hear. Something that wouldn't happen if you stopped taking everything I say as a personal insult."

"And not allowing me to go into town on my own despite me proving how capable I am isn't an insult?"

"You don't know the town at all. It wasn't an insult. It was an offer as a guide. One I'm regretting—"

"Then why'd you offer?" Alya snapped.

"Because my best friend is married to your best friend, and I know they're tired of us fighting!"

Silence. That's all there was. One that was tense and weighted.

Marinette counted to ten before Nino broke the silence again. "So since you're instigating this, I'll grow up and extend the olive branch. Okay?"

She cringed at the bite in Nino's words, yet she knew them to be true. Alya did seem to start this more often than not. And considering the way Alya's shoulders slumped as though in shame, she knew it, too.

Then Alya put her hands in the air as though in surrender. "All right," she said. "You're right. They don't deserve that."

"So can we grow up and at least pretend to be civilized?"

With a sigh, Alya straightened and extended a hand for him. One that Nino took and briefly shook.

"My offer still stands at showing you town," Nino said, his voice at a reasonable volume now. "It's not because you aren't capable of going by yourself but because you don't know it like I do."

"Fair enough," Alya relented. "Let me go get my purse, then we can go."

"All right. I'll ready the wagon. Or do you prefer riding?"

"A wagon is fine."

"Then I'll be out front."

"I'll see you out there."

With that, the duo left their cordial conversation to part in opposite directions. Marinette couldn't say that it was the start of a friendship, but she could say it was the end of a feud.

"Quite the pair, those two."

Marinette jumped in the air. She whipped around to face the voice, only to see a smiling blonde man with cat ears and a mask looking at her. "Maybe," he said, approaching her, "this means we won't hear any more screaming matches in the hallways."

"Maybe," Marinette agreed. "Would be nice."

"It would."

A strange sort of silence settled between them. Anxious, begging to be filled with conversation, yet content and calm.

"You called me 'Adrien' yesterday," he said, breaking the silence, his voice almost fragile. "You finally called me Adrien."

She looked up at him with a new-found wonder. "Did…did that really mean so much to you?"

His brow scrunched up in nervous confusion. "Did it…yes. Of course, it did. It meant the world to me. Did you really think it wouldn't?"

Words seemed to fail her. "I… I guess I never thought of it that way."

The hurt in his eyes was painful to her heart. When his gaze fell away, she felt like she would do anything to have his green eyes look back at her. "Was it hard to think me a person," he asked, his gaze flitting back up to hers but his face never turning away from the ground, "because of the mask?"

She shook her head. "Not because of the mask. Or the ears, for that matter." She had to pause, thinking of what exactly it was that put him at such a distance for so long. "It was more because I couldn't see past the shock," she finally admitted, a bit shamefully. Her gaze hit the ground as she continued. "I didn't want to see past my own trauma. I didn't want to let in an odd stranger. I just wanted to go home."

"I know how that feels," he said. She felt more than saw him take a step closer to her. "How you just want to run and hide in a place that had been safe for so long despite knowing you can't go back."

"I hardly think you can compare your situation to mine," she countered. "You're still haunted by it. It still affects you."

"And yours doesn't?"

Marinette bit her lip.

"Trauma is still trauma, my lady. Some is just worse than others."

"I just don't want to negate the fact that yours left bigger scars."

Slowly, she felt his hands wrap around hers and hold them tight. "That means the world to me. To know you care that much."

"I do," she assured, shifting her hands so that she could hold his hands, too. A stroke of boldness pushed her to look up at his face again. She had to catch her breath when her gaze caught his. "I've come to truly care about you. So much so that it would break my heart to know you married a woman who would be so heartless as to watch you suffer in your sleep and not want to do anything about it."

His expression softened, and his smile turned bittersweet. "The last person to care for me like that…to be there when I woke from nightmares and stay with me until the worst of my fear passed…was my mother." He paused, his eyes watering in thought. "She would usually rub my back or scratch my head until I fell back to sleep. Something that Plagg told me that you've been doing."

"Like I said, I couldn't just let you suffer in your sleep," she answered easily. Earnestly. She hated watching him writhe and pant as though in pain. She'd taken up sitting by his side and sewing while he slept. The second he'd shift, her project would be forgotten in favor of soothing him back to sleep. While it broke her heart ten times over, she swore to herself she would never fail to do it.

When he smiled, his eyes sparkling and his expression radiating sunshine, her heart melted. "When I started dreaming of my mother coaxing me back to sleep, I thought it was a coincidence. A lucky one considering that I've never been able to fall back asleep after a nightmare. Not since the war. Apparently, I'm not the lucky one. I just have a lucky charm who cares."

"How could I not?" Marinette was surprised those words slipped so easily from her lips. She was only slightly more so when she realized how much she meant it.

Suddenly, his expression was one of pain, and Marinette couldn't handle being the one to cause it. "Not many people care for Chat Noir, Marinette."

"Then what do they know?"

His eyes widened.

"They're idiots for ignoring a man with such a brave spirit and a kind heart."

Her heart was racing at the way his shock turned to smolder. And was it her imagination, or did his breathing pick up? Subtly, he shook his head in disbelief. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"You put your safety and pride aside to save me." With that, she squeezed his hands. "Trust me when I say I'm the undeserving one."

"No," he said. The fire in his eyes burned hotter, and Marinette's heart picked up its pace once again when he slipped a hand free to cup her jaw. "I'm the undeserving one."

She barely had time to register the way he tilted her chin upwards before she let her eyes fall shut. His lips soon met hers in nothing more than a chaste peck. A touch. One all too short.

She reached her hands out to his shoulders to steady herself, but this seemed to encourage him because the next thing she knew, his lips were back on hers, lingering longer than before.

Not that she minded.

Her grip on his shoulders tightened, and his hand moved from her chin to bury in her hair, cradling her head while his free arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her in. She put up no resistance, allowing her hands to slide up to the base of his neck, fingering his soft, golden locks. That's when a pleasant little sound escaped his throat. One that sent butterflies flying in her stomach and her mind buzzing with pleasure. Then he turned his head and pressed his lips firmly against hers.

On an exhale, she let her body relax completely into the bliss of him. All too soon, he pulled away, much to her displeasure. She whined, wanting his lips back, but she stopped fighting when they found her cheek, her jaw, her ear.

"Adrien," she whispered on a moan when his lips lingered on a sensitive spot under her ear.

"Marinette," he purred back.

She hated how easily that turned her knees to nothing.

He pulled away, only to come back so he could touch the tip of his nose on hers and rest their foreheads together. "Darling, I want to make this work between us," he whispered, his breath rolling across her lips. "I want to pursue more than what we have. And maybe one day, we can truly call ourselves husband and wife."

It was a nerve-wrecking admission, what he was asking. Something she didn't think she was ready for. To pursue a romance and eventually consummate their marriage. It scared her even further at how easily her answer rolled off her tongue. "So do I, Adrien. So do I."

But what scared her the most, she thought belatedly as his lips descended once more upon hers, was just how much she truly meant it.