2. Chapter 1

A/N: Wow, you guys. 60 follows in two days? For a prologue? Kinda blew my mind. :) Thank you!

"Are you certain you can handle it?"

Marinette rested her hands on her hips while regarding her papa with a fond smile. "I'm eighteen, Papa. I've told you ten times already that I can handle this. And it's not like you won't be right there."

Her papa sighed, rubbing his tired eyes with one large hand.

"Papa," Marinette said reassuringly, "I'm eighteen. Maman needs her rest if she's going to get better. I will be there to help you man the baker's table. That's all."

"Yes, but—"

"It's a party hosted by Duke Bourgeois," she continued, "attended by a mass of noblemen and high-class knights. I am a baker's daughter with a small dowry that pales in comparison to the ones offered by any of the beautiful noblewomen that will be in attendance. No matter how beautiful you believe me to be, I hardly am a temptation to a man. Furthermore, you trust me to make deliveries all the time. Just like then, I'll be fine at this party, Papa."

Her father seemed to relax at this, his large stature shrinking slightly in surrender. "All right."

Marinette withheld her squeal of excitement.

"But I have to ask," he said, "how long have you been rehearsing that little speech."

Marinette smiled sheepishly. "About four days. Alya helped."

Her father simply chuckled.

"Now come on, Papa. The party is tonight and you have quite a bit of baking to do."

"You just volunteered to help," he teased, tapping her nose fondly. "So we have quite a bit of baking to do."

Marinette giggled. "All right. Let's get started."

For the next several hours, she assisted her father in baking while simultaneously running the store front as well. For everyone's best interest, Papa and Marinette had banished Maman to her room until she recovered fully from her bout of sickness. Surely within the next day or two, she'd be back up and running the shop.

Eventually, everyone was served, the shop was closed, and the baked goods were ready to be delivered to the party. The only thing left was for the two bakers themselves to get ready.

Marinette rushed up to her room in order to dress her uniform. It was a rather dull and boring outfit, nothing more than an off-white blouse and brown skirt. Nothing compared to the wonderful designs royalty would be wearing. If she could, she would dream at sewing such masterpieces. Alas, there were so many girls aiming to be seamstresses, and as the only daughter of a baker, she was in a good position to inherit her family's business. She would make clothes for herself, family, and friends only. She supposed there was nothing wrong with that. She was better off than most.

She finished her ensemble with a white half-apron to cover her skirt, brushing away the imaginary wrinkles. Finally, she walked over to her small vanity to examine herself in the mirror before tying her hair back with a plain white ribbon. She would forgo her normal pigtails in favor of something that looked more mature. She was about to call it good when she caught sight of the small box that Mister Fu had given to her at the beginning of winter. She flipped the box open to spot the earrings inside. Ruby chips, two that looked very similar, lay in a black metal that she hadn't been able to discern. They were beautiful, nevertheless, and reminded her of a couple of ladybugs.

On a whim, she put them on. When she had shown them to her Maman several months ago, the older woman had grinned and told her that without a shadow of a doubt they were lucky. Maman had an instinct for these things, so Marinette believed her. And considering Marinette's poor luck, a bit of good luck would be welcome.

Besides, it not like anyone would notice them anyway. Her hair was already escaping its ponytail and covering her ears.

She met her Papa downstairs. He was looking spotless in his own off-white shirt and brown trousers. "Ah, there's my daughter. Looking as lucky as ever." He tapped her earlobe. "Ready to go, little ladybug?"

Marinette grinned at her nickname. For as unlucky and clumsy as she was, her parents were convinced she was good luck to everyone around her. "Let's go, Papa."

Time seemed to fly by. It seemed like barely an hour had passed by the time the duo had arrived and arranged their goods at a table, but Marinette was certain more time had passed than that.

"The guests will be arriving soon."

Marinette turned towards the voice, her surprise soon turning to excitement. "Alya."

The two girls shared a quick hug. "What are you doing here, girl? I didn't know you were coming."

"Maman is still sick," Marinette simply answered.

Alya hummed. "Then give her my best regards. Hopefully, it won't linger much longer."

"I don't think it will. But let's talk about you. Are you serving tonight?" Marinette inquired, taking in Alya's attire.

The brunette nodded. "I am. With so many male servants gone to war or recovering from it, the staff tonight will be all female."

Marinette nodded solemnly.

An older man soon marched into the ballroom filled with bustling servants, clapping his hands together urgently. "Attention. The guests are set to arrive any moment. Places, places."

Alya sighed. "Forgive me, but I better do as Mr. Damocles asks. I'm under enough scrutiny as it is after getting in a stand-off against Chloe earlier."

"Why does that not surprise me?"

Alya gave Marinette a playful whack on the shoulder before heading off to her position.

"I expect details," Marinette hissed after her friend.

"Later," Alya promised.

Within the hour, the entire ballroom was buzzing with people. Servants flittered about, handing out food and drink. Marinette herself took trays of goods around, a smile on her face as she offered the goodies to partygoers.

Chloe Bourgeois, daughter of the duke, had turned her nose up at the pastries, but her companion, a man with rich brown hair pulled back into a queue, smiled as he took one of the pastries. "Surely your father wouldn't have employed them if their goods weren't beyond the standard," he told the blonde woman.

She just let out a huff as he took a bite of the pastry. Immediately, his eyes closed as he hummed in delight. "And I was quite right. Try one, my dear."

Chloe looked at the pastries, then aimed a glare of disdain at Marinette. "I think not. How else am I to keep my figure?"

"Your lovely figure can stand a single pastry," the man teased, looking the blonde up and down in a way that made Marinette squirm.

"Ha," Chloe let out a mirthless chuckle. However, she seemed to play along with his games, angling herself so as to draw attention to her hips. "No, thank you. Another drink would be preferable." With that, she sauntered off, likely in hopes the man would follow.

He didn't. Instead, he watched with a bit of interest before turning his attention back to the pastries Marinette held. He took another. "These are wonderful."

"Thank you, my lord," Marinette said, noting the way he was dressed. Considering the purple of his vest, he had to be a lord of some station, not a knight. "It was my father who made them."

He smiled approvingly, but his eyes seemed to devour her face. "Tell him he is exceptional at his craft."

"I will. Thank you."

She continued on her rounds, happily shuffling away from the man who seemed to be looking at her with too much interest for her liking. And maybe she was staring too much at him because she nearly ran into another man.

"I'm so sorry," she quickly apologized, stumbling backwards and nearly dropping her platter.

Thank goodness he caught her just in time. Gloved hands grabbed hold of her shoulders, setting her upright once again. "Careful where you step," he said.

Marinette was about to reply, but any words died in her throat. Looking up at the man, all she could see were piercing green eyes surrounded by a black mask. Unruly blonde hair fanned over his forehead…

But were those cat ears pinned to his head?

"Forgive me," Marinette said, finally finding her voice again.

"No trouble," he said easily, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. "But seeing as you're having trouble with that platter, I suppose I should help make it lighter for you." His green eyes dazzled as he plucked some pastries from the platter, holding two in one hand while he used the other to raise a third to his mouth.

He hummed in delight. "I'm surprised these aren't gone already. They are delicious."

"Thank you…my lord," she said, noting his formal attire.

With a tip of his chin and his green eyes still twinkling, he marched off past her. She spared him a curious glance before finishing her round.

Alya caught her just as she made it back to the table. "Hey, I need to bring some more food up from the kitchen. Come with me to help?"

Marinette glanced at her father, who signaled his approval with a tilt of his head. She turned back to her best friend. "All right."

They quickly slipped down a servants' corridor, and it didn't take long for them to start talking. "Alya, help me out. You know most of the partygoers, correct?"

"Yes, from either previous visits or reputation."

"So…the man with Chloe? With the purple vest and brown hair?"

"The one who Chloe is trying to seduce?"

Marinette nodded, shivering in disgust.

"Lord Barbot. An earl with a large fortune."

That explained quite a bit.

"But as you clearly know, a shady character."

"Clearly," Marinette agreed. "What about the man with the cat ears? Do you know who I'm talking about?"

Alya nodded in exasperation. "Oh, yes. He's hard to miss. Lord Noir: a viscount, I believe, in the south part of the kingdom. I'll respect him because he actually went to serve in the war. Sadly, he came back not right in the head." Alya swirled her finger at her temple to emphasize her point.

"Poor guy."

"Unlucky, too. Nicknamed Chat Noir by most because the story goes he went to war as part of a large group, thirty to seventy depending on who you ask, and he was the only one to make it back."

Marinette's eyes widened. "I'd call him very lucky."

"I suppose. But calamity has fallen on nearly every servant in his house as well as the few people who dare to enter. Baron Lahiffe, for instance, got a broken leg as well as severely ill after a single visit. Then there was a knight, one that happened to save Chat Noir's life, who ended up beaten and is still recovering from some sort of stab wound. And we won't mention the fact this same man sustained a broken arm and head injury when he saved Chat Noir the first time. The man is a walking curse."

Marinette cringed. "Then why was he invited?"

Alya pursed her lips in thought. "I believe he's the second cousin once removed to the king? Or prince? Or something like that. Basically, he's in line."

"So why wasn't Chloe all over him? With the prince still missing at war…" Marinette froze there. It was tragic to think that the kind, handsome young man that had gifted her his cloak that winter night was gone. She couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it. Not him. He was far too good a man for something bad like that to happen.

"Because while her father invited him in hopes that she would try to capture him, she's too worried about his bad luck. She won't go near him. Lord Barbot is the next best thing, in her mind."

"Alya," a deep voice called.

The girls turned around to see Mr. Damocles standing there. "Please, come with me a moment. I need your assistance."

"Yes, sir," Alya said. She tapped Marinette's shoulder in silent query of if it was all right. With a smile, Marinette tapped her elbow back. She'd be fine. She knew her way to the kitchen.

Alya returned her smile before following the head servant away.

Marinette continued her journey down the hall, turning right. She followed the hallway down, taking a left

And ending up not where she should be.

She frowned. It was a left, right? Or was it right?

Wonderful, now she was lost.

"Looking for somewhere?"

Marinette whipped around to see Lord Barbot standing there. Composing herself and standing straight and confident, she answered, "Yes, the kitchen. I took a right when I should have taken a left and was on my way. Now, if you'll excuse me."

She tried to walk past him, but he blocked her way. "What sort of gentleman would I be if I didn't escort a lovely young lady—"

"The kitchen is two hallways away," Marinette interrupted him. "Surely I can make it on my own."

"I insist," he pressed, further blocking her path from her.

An uncomfortable feeling built up in her gut, but she didn't have much of a choice it seemed. "If you insist."

Finally, he smiled and let her pass. She shuffled quickly down the hallway, but he kept up with her quick pace. "You have some very pretty earrings."

"Thank you," she absently said, trying to find the correct turn for the kitchen.

"Family heirlooms, I presume?"

Marinette didn't know how to answer, so she simply agreed.

"Isn't the kitchen that way?" he said, pointing to the hallway at her left.

She glanced down the hallway he pointed to, but didn't recognize it. Frankly, she didn't recognize where she was at all.

"No, it's not. I must have taken a wrong turn." She flipped around, only to come face to face with Lord Barbot's chest. "Excuse me," she curtly said, shifting to move past him.

"Come now, no need to be so formal," he said, not moving from his spot blocking her pathway.

Her heart was pounding nervously. This was bad. Very, very bad. "I have a job to do, my lord," she quipped, pretending she wasn't intimidated by his very presence. "I need to get back to the kitchen."

He didn't seem to hear a word she said. Instead, he was far more interested in examining her earrings. She took a step back from him when he reached up towards her ears.

"Excuse me, sir," she ground out, looking for any way to get past him in the narrow hallway.

"I must say your earrings fascinate me. And attached to such a beautiful young woman…" he reached for her once again.

Only for her to bat his hand away with a sharp slap. "Keep your hands off me."

His eyes took on a terrifying gleam. In a quick movement, he reached out to grab her hand, only for her to slip from his poor grasp and land a punch up in his jaw. While he stumbled, she bolted. She didn't quite know where she was going, nor did she care, just as long as it was away from him.

She barely made it to the end of the hallway before she felt her skirt snag on something. She was forced to a halt, only for her skirt to be yanked backward. She spun around as she stumbled, falling right into the arms of Lord Barbot.

"Feisty, aren't we?" he growled, gripping her tight.

"Let go of me!" Marinette shouted. She stomped on his feet to no avail. He didn't even flinch.

She struggled in his grasp, but he clung tightly to the screaming girl. She finally got him in the groin. Not hard, just enough to surprise him. She slipped from his grasp, running down the hallway and taking a breath to scream.

Only for his hand to grab her mouth and his other to wrap around her torso, just under her chest, and squeeze so tightly the air flew out of her. The most that came out was a strangled cry.

His hand curled tighter around her mouth while the arm around her torso came upwards, his fingers digging into her side as he pulled her back against him. Her heart raced faster as his face came right by her ear. "I can take care of feisty women."