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rosie-b · 2 years

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La Vie Dans les Roses

Bringing its huge jaw close, the cat sniffed at Thumbelin again, narrowing its green eyes, and its tail swished behind it in disdain. “You are not a normal fairy,” the black cat said in a strange tone.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Thumbelin, breathless and wondering that he should still be able to speak. Cats did not talk! Fairies weren’t real! Perhaps he’d died in the fall, and was caught up in some strange nightmare as punishment for his disobedient nature in life.

Above him, the cat sat up, adjusting its tail over its front paws in a royal manner. “You don’t have wings,” it - he? - said. “What’s more, you clearly didn’t expect my little attack, did you? The fairies around here know that I am not one to ignore such temptations as wee folk dancing without a care when I haven't been fed yet. You mustn’t be so happy when I haven’t had any food for so long! Where is my daily offering of cheese? I was expecting it an hour ago.”

Thumbelin felt that he must’ve been very bad indeed to deserve such an afterlife as this.

This is a Miraculous Ladybug AU I was inspired to write by @mintcroissants beautiful fanart of Adrien and Marinette as Thumbelina and her fairy prince! I really loved their art and wanted to do something with it; one role swap and over 15,000 words later, this fic is the result. You can read it on my AO3 page or under the cut below! I hope you enjoy!

Once upon a time, there lived a couple, very much in love, who had everything they could wish for except that which they most desired: a child to call their own. Every night before bed they would pray that someday, they might be so blessed as to have a child, but years passed by and none came. Over time, the husband grew weary of his prayers and gave up on his dream of a son with bright, sparkling eyes or a daughter with a smile like the sun. But his wife, a strong woman named Emilie, never gave up, and even as her husband cursed his fate and scorned his dream, she dared to hope for a child to share the love in her heart with. The world took note of her hope and goodness, and rewarded her one day with a son, a tiny baby with bright green eyes and a smile that could melt even the coldest heart. Emilie found him early in the morning, having followed the distant sound of a baby's cries to the windowsill in the mansion's music room. There she found the child, so tiny that he could have been a santon figure in a creche. The early morning rays of the sun seemed to dance around him, and he waved a fist in the air, cooing at the beams as they danced across his little hand. Where the baby came from, Emilie didn’t know, but she immediately loved him as her own, although she had not given birth to him.

And from that moment, the couple had a child. Gabriel, Emilie’s husband, was won over by the baby’s sweet smile, his happy gurgles when his new father cradled him close to his heart, and his bright nature. He thanked Emilie for her continued prayers, which must have won them this gift from the heavens. And on that bright morning, the new family stood in the open window by the sill on which the baby had appeared, as the sun's gentle light shone upon them.

As time passed, the boy they called their own matured quickly, but though his height grew, it seemed he would never be larger than Gabriel's thumb. So, the couple called him Thumbelin, from an old name for the mystical wee folk of the land. The boy needed no other name, as his parents and the few workers who knew of his existence thought Thumbelin seemed fitting. No one was sure of the small boy's origin, and some wondered if he might indeed be one of the wee folk, if they were more than legend. But whether or not the boy was a fairy, he was the Agrestes' son first and most importantly. And so those who wondered kept their thoughts to themselves and treated Emilie's son like they would a regular-sized human.

As the boy's mother, Emilie was the closest to the little Agreste. She had found him as a baby, she had made him appear with her true faith, and now she nurtured the strongest bond with her son. She noticed how small he was in comparison to the large mansion, and had workers make a tiny room for him so that he could feel properly tall for once. In addition, she placed many tiny ladders, zip lines, and stairs in the mansion for her son, and gave him little china dishes to eat from. So long as Thumbelin stayed inside, he would have no difficulty getting around his home. Emilie took care to involve her son when she could, teaching him to play the piano with her, to read poetry, and to speak different languages. Gabriel, for his part, was overjoyed to have a son, and he loved to fashion all manners of little outfits for him. He made warm coats stuffed with dandelion fluff, little hats made from thin yarn, and shoes made from leather scraps. Thumbelin was pleased with each new outfit, all of which were made with love and care. Thumbelin appreciated all his parents did for him, and he made sure to give them all the love he could in return for their own. And the little family was happy together.

When Thumbelin became a youth, he began to question the world around him like he never had before. He knew that he was small for a human, and that as such, he was not allowed outside the house, where a cat could chase him like a mouse, or a bird might swoop down and eat him. But he could not understand why his existence was kept a secret from all humans outside the mansion. Why couldn’t he meet the other children of the neighborhood, or say hello to his family’s dinner guests? Surely his parents had a good reason for this! And so, he asked his mother for the answer one day as they sat by the piano together.

“Maman, why can’t I go out and make friends, or meet the guests you and Father invite to dinner? Why don't we let anyone outside the mansion know about me? I've always listened to you and Father, but I want to go outside and smell the roses while they are still on the bush, to feel the grass under my feet! And since I am so little that it would be too dangerous for me, I would at least like to have friends to play with. Is that wrong of me to want?” he asked, the honey-colored flecks in his eyes catching the sun as he looked up at his mother.

Emilie, whose tall height would not let her see any color but green in her son’s eyes, looked down at Thumbelin with a small smile on her face. “My dear, your father and I love you very much. We wish we could let you play with the other children your age, or step outside for a time. But, mon coeur, you are very small indeed. What if a boy your age who wants only to play accidentally steps on you while you play hide and seek? What if the other children tease you for your height, or our guests tell the papers about you and you become little more than a spectacle, with cameras always flashing at you while people jostle for the best view of the world's tiniest man? And even if you go outside for a minute, in that time a bee could sting you and you, small as you are, would die! Thumbelin, my son, perhaps someday you can take these risks. But for now, your father has decided that he would rather have you stay safe. And I agree with him.”

Thumbelin listened to his mother, as always, and stayed inside, away from the laughing children he saw through the windows and the fuzzy bees bustling around the roses under the window. He saw how clumsy the children were, and how large the bees' stingers looked, and thought bitterly that his father was right to worry. He stayed in his little room upstairs when dinner guests came, and tried not to think about what it would be like if he were seated next to the interesting men and women his mother knew. But deep within himself, he wondered if his parents truly knew what was best for him, or if they were letting fear rule their actions, and by ruling their actions, rule him.

Months passed, and soon Emilie announced that she had gotten a role in a new movie, a story about a young widow who left England behind and became an indentured servant in the American colonies. Because the American director wanted the film to feel authentic, Thumbelin’s mother would be spending months away from home, flying to the United States to film in distant locations like Williamsburg and Los Angeles. When they heard of her opportunity, Gabriel and Thumbelin were very happy for Emilie, but after she left, they were very lonely indeed.

Gabriel filled up his time with new designs and long letters to Emilie, choosing to stay away from his wife's little son. Thumbelin, meanwhile, struggled to fill his suddenly empty days. On yet another afternoon spent waiting for Emilie's return, the boy sat alone on the piano he and his mother loved, perched on the edge of the music desk and facing the large window in the music room. Although he sat at ease, he felt on edge, and his fingers twitched every so often as he stared out the East-facing window. Somewhere out there, across an ocean unfathomably large even to his huge father, Thumbelin’s mother was seeing a hundred sights that her son would never see. She was smiling as she spoke to grand people in a foreign country, she was dancing in a camera’s eye with a strange man. And being as busy as she was, Thumbelin didn’t know if she had time to spare even a thought for the boy she’d left in a too-big mansion in France.

Even though his father was just a few empty rooms away and the servants were even closer, Thumbelin felt more alone than he ever had. The servants rarely had time to speak with their little charge, and they would be busy for hours preparing the atelier for a business meeting late that afternoon. His father hadn’t spoken much to him all week, beyond simple pleasantries at mealtimes. At breakfast, he’d talked of the weather for the day. It was expected to rain, which would be good for the Agrestes’ flower gardens and bad for Gabriel’s concentration, since he never came up with many designs when it was rainy outside.

Thumbelin had never felt the rain. He was always kept inside, and though his mother would let him go on the outer windowsills occasionally, to touch gathered snow or breathe the fresh air, he’d never been allowed there while it rained. He was too small, his parents said. A raindrop might hurt him, knock him down and out, and he’d wake with a bump or worse on his tiny head.

Looking out the window, Thumbelin sighed. He had tried to distract himself from the negative thoughts running through his mind, but they were all his brain could think of at the moment. His mother was gone, his father might as well be a ghost, and Thumbelin had nothing to do to drive away his loneliness. He could play the piano, but that would remind him of his mother. He could read a book, but he had already finished the ones his mother left out for him, and he didn't feel like rereading them or getting new books out from the bookshelf in his parents' room. The servants were kind, especially his mother's bodyguard, but they were all busy for the day and he didn't want to bother them. No, Thumbelin had nothing to do except sit and think and try not to blame his mother for leaving him or his father for hiding away with his work for how he felt. They were his parents, and they loved him, and they didn't mean to make Thumbelin feel so sad and alone.

But he probably wouldn't be feeling this way if he had other friends. Maybe if he went outside, he would have made friends with the blonde girl and the redhead who always walked with her, or the boy with blue-tipped hair who strummed the guitar as he walked under the open windows of the mansion. Maybe then Thumbelin would be able to distract himself from the large nothingness that filled his house and go out and have fun with them. But he couldn't, because he was too small, and too good to disobey his parents, and too smart not to recognize the real dangers he was being protected from. Thumbelin was just a boy, who was feeling lonely for a short time because he was too weak to stand being alone.

Thumbelin sniffed, rubbing a hand over his eyes, which felt strained and hot and wet. He would not be weak. No, he was not weak! Why should he be called weak, when he had lived his whole life in one place, knowing the same few people and never meeting anyone new, longing for more and never complaining? He was like an animal in a zoo, only ever staying in one enclosure. He was strong to be able to live like this! And why shouldn't Thumbelin want to escape the loneliness his home offered him? In fact, why not take this wanting one step further and give himself a taste of the freedom he desired? If his family was going to leave him alone for so long, then they had no right to deny him this!

Still, Thumbelin didn't want to do anything too extreme. Whatever he did ought to be small enough not to get him into trouble. So, no surprising his father's client during their meeting today, even if it would be the most fun Thumbelin had ever had. But there had to be something he could do...

Remembering his father's small talk that morning, Thumbelin decided that he wanted to go outside and feel the rain for the first time. He could do it, too, could strain with all his might and unlock the big window in the music room and push it open, just wide enough to sneak outside! So he determined that today, he would leave the house. Not for long! And not even really going outside! He just wanted to go on the windowsill, like he’d done before with his mother, and put out his hand to catch a single drop of rain. Then, he’d head back inside, with Gabriel none the wiser. The only challenge was opening the window. He wasn’t sure if he could do it, but whoever had made him seemed to have given him more strength than would be expected, maybe to make up for him being so little. Yes, this was one small escape that Thumbelin could manage! In his opinion, it wasn't even too dangerous, which was good in the case that he got caught.

So Thumbelin climbed up to the window, using the little ladder his mother had made out of chopsticks for him. The original ladder had broken when a maid accidentally knocked it down while sweeping the floor and stepped on it. From the top of the ladder, Thumbelin grabbed hold of the curtain, and careful not to fall, he climbed up on it until he had reached the middle of the window, where it was split into two separate frames of glass, and carefully stepped off onto the white sash. Moving to the window lock, he grasped it with both hands as he pushed it from locked to open. Then, he walked back over to the window curtain and slid down it to the sill, letting the curtain swing with his movement now and even encouraging it by swinging close to the jamb and pushing it with his feet as he controlled his fall. Landing on the sill again, his face grew more serious as he looked up from the bottom part of the sash. He was going to attempt to move this entire frame of glass and white-painted metal up past his head, something he had never tried before. He wondered if, in fact, he could do this, or if he had merely fooled himself into believing it possible.

But there was only one way to find out, so Thumbelin walked to the middle of the sill, bent his knees, and pushed up on the sash with all the might in his two little arms. The sash groaned in protest, squeaked, and moved half an inch, which was not enough to let Thumbelin pass through it. Putting his hands up behind his head, Thumbelin walked away for a moment, breathing deeply as he steeled himself for the next attempt. And when he again readied himself and shoved with all his strength, the window moved up just enough that he could crawl through it to the outer sill. Thumbelin took a step back as he stood up, and smiled. This wasn’t as grand as what he had envisioned, but this outcome was still more than good enough. Happily exhausted, Thumbelin sat down on the sill while he waited for a dark cloud to cover the sun and give him a signal to take the last step in his plan.

Outside, a vast expanse of grass waited eagerly for the rainfall, the tips of each blade having turned brown days ago. A light breeze tickled the grass, and it shifted back and forth in the wind, creating little pockets of darkness that vanished as quickly as they appeared. Farther back, a wall enclosed the yard, and along the wall, a flower garden spread, planted by Emilie years ago and tended with care. There were smaller flowers, lavender and dianthus and catmint, and there were roses, proud old bushes that waved hello with the wind's help to their little transplanted cousins under the music room window. The rose bushes by the wall were quite tall, and their leaves were dark and full; one could hardly see the wall that they grew against for their size. A dozen roses were already in full bloom on these bushes, and dozens more would surely blossom soon after the rainfall came. They were always beautiful, but the rose bushes' dance in the wind seemed particularly joyful today, a contrast to the gloomy atmosphere inside the mansion, stuffed to the roof with dour-faced people.

Upstairs, Gabriel sat at a lonely desk and sketched out a dress made for a woman over twenty-five times the height of his little son. He didn't think of Thumbelin, alone somewhere in the mansion, but distracted himself with the recognition he would get for that bold cut and using this deep color. He expected the meeting tonight to go well, and contrary to his gloomy expectations, he was getting quite a bit of good work done today. Gabriel knew he would be up all night working on designs, and he welcomed that knowledge, because he couldn't be thinking about Emilie or anything else troubling while so busy.

In a tiny town in an American state, Emilie sat looking at the carefully tended flower gardens, and wondered if her son was looking out at the roses in her yard at home. She had transplanted her favorite roses under the windows in the music room, where she had found her son, for him to enjoy. They both loved roses, and thinking about them, Emilie missed her son. So, it was easy for her to cry in this scene, and the director was happy to only need one take. Immediately after the cut was called, Emilie hurriedly wiped away her tears and stood up, not letting her mind linger on Thumbelin too long, lest her concentration be ruined and future scenes take too long to film. They were working on the movie’s ending next, and she needed to look happy. So she smiled brightly at the crew, and no one could think her to be at all sad.

On a windowsill in Paris, a small boy hesitated as he stood with his back to the house he had never left. It wasn’t raining, even though the sky was dark and Thumbelin had stepped out onto the windowsill to wait for the clouds to let their tears fall. It was supposed to rain, but perhaps the meteorologists had been wrong in their forecast. As a breeze stirred his blond hair, Thumbelin sighed. He wasn’t supposed to be out here, and now the purpose he had done it for no longer existed. He’d disobeyed his father, who loved him very much even if he didn’t always show it, and he’d wanted to disobey his mother, who loved him every way she knew how to and had never minded his irregular size when she took him in as her son. What good was this escape, anyway? Thumbelin was only asking to get hurt.

Sliding down the windowsill, Thumbelin took a shaky breath. As he sat, Thumbelin crossed his arms over his knees, pulled tight up against his chest, and rested his chin on top of them. Through blurring eyesight, he looked across the windowsill to its far corner, where a spider twice his size twitched on top of its hopelessly obvious web. The spider isn’t afraid of the rain, Thumbelin thought to himself. And something clamped shut in his chest, and his jaw tightened. He blinked away his tears and was glad they had not yet fallen. The clouds above were dark, and the wind was strong. The forecast must not have been wrong, Thumbelin must have simply misremembered the time it would rain! Adjusting himself till he was in a cross-legged position, Thumbelin resolved that he would stay outside until the rain fell. Then he could crawl inside and feel sorry for his actions, but for now he would wait until he felt the rain for the first time. Feeling confident, Thumbelin gave a challenging look to the spider in the dark corner, and felt proud when it took a step backwards as though in fear.

Thumbelin sat there on the windowsill for nearly an hour, getting up now and then to pace or jump around on the sill like he would on the piano as he practiced his part for a new song his mother arranged for the two of them. Being so focused on his movements and the music in his head, Thumbelin nearly forgot what he was doing on the sill, and though he made sure to avoid the spider’s whole half of the ledge, he let himself go closer and closer to the edge of his half. He let himself embrace the music, and when he came to the end of the part he knew how to play, he simply danced however he liked.

The clouds were very dark indeed now, and Thumbelin twirled about with his head tilted back to see them, not noticing the dark shadow on the ground by the low windowsill. The spider didn’t take note of it either, but the black cat did take note of the small boy dancing about like a little bird that had found a bug to eat. The cat’s pupils grew wide, and its tail swished from side to side as it watched Thumbelin dance and whirl ever closer to the edge, and finally, the cat couldn’t control itself. It pounced up at the window, two great furry paws brushing against Thumbelin as it stood on two legs and dove for the boy on the windowsill. Luckily, the boy turned in time to see the cat pounce and moved out of the way before its claws could catch him.

But Thumbelin had lost his balance, and he teetered for a moment with one foot on the sill and one in the air, both his hands waving in the air to reach for the balance he wouldn’t regain. Giving a short cry, he fell off the side of the windowsill, heading for the mulch and thorny flowers below it. As he fell, Thumbelin saw the cat’s tail swish towards him, and he grabbed onto it with both arms, hoping that this could break his fall. And it did, for a little while, but the cat was annoyed by this turn of events, and quickly shook him off with an irritated flick of its tail.

Thumbelin landed in the mulch with a thud, a long piece of wood splintering under him. The boy sat frozen, afraid that the crack he’d heard had been his bones breaking in the fall, and the cat brought down its paws from the windowsill, moving to sniff at Thumbelin, its fangs showing just a bit as it approached the boy. Falling backwards in shock and letting out a squeak of terror, Thumbelin dimly realized that he had not broken any bones, and felt a drop of relief join the sea of fear engulfing him.

Bringing its great jaw close, the cat sniffed at Thumbelin again, narrowing its green eyes, and its tail swished behind it in disdain. “You are not a normal fairy,” the black cat said in a strange tone.

Above him, the cat sat up, adjusting its tail over its front paws in a royal manner. “You don’t have wings,” it - he? - said. “What’s more, you clearly didn’t expect my little attack, did you? The fairies around here know that I am not one to ignore such temptations as little folk dancing without a care when I haven't been fed yet. You mustn’t be so happy when I haven’t had any food for so long! Where is my daily offering of cheese? I was expecting it an hour ago.”

Thumbelin felt that he must’ve been very bad indeed to deserve such an afterlife as this.

“I haven’t a clue what you’re on about,” he said, and though he was lying on his back in the mulch, he crossed his arms and put on a stern expression to show his displeasure and offended honesty.

The whiskers on the cat’s left cheek twitched. “I suppose not,” he said, and turning his head, began to wash his shoulder, as if Thumbelin’s words had no effect on him. Thumbelin watched in confusion, and slowly pushed himself up on his elbows to sit watching the cat in a strange fascination. He’d never had the chance to see a cat up close before.

After a minute, the cat finished washing its shoulder, and turned back to Thumbelin. Blinking at him as if in disbelief that the boy was still there, he flicked his tail behind him before speaking again. “Well, are you going to feed me or not?” he asked. The cat’s strong tail swished behind him, tip tapping the ground in impatience.

Thumbelin scrunched up his eyebrows in exasperated disbelief. He didn’t have any food with him, and even if he did, it would not be enough for the large beast in front of him! He should have run off to hide while the cat was licking its shoulder, he thought. At least, he should apologize for not having any food, in order to avoid the beast's wrath.

“What would you have done if you had caught me?” Is what Thumbelin's mouth blurted out instead. Eyes widening, he clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified to have reminded the cat of his status as potential food.

The cat stared down impassively at him. “I would have caught you in my mouth,” he said, “and held you ransom for my food. I don’t eat fairies,” he said with a sniff. “You don’t even smell good. And no food on earth can beat a nice dish of camembert with a saucer of cream to go with it. That’s food,” the cat said with a line of drool trailing from its mouth.

As Thumbelin gaped up at the cat, a low rumble ran through his body. “Are you purring?” Thumbelin asked, both eyebrows raised. He had never heard a cat purr before! It sounded an awful lot like thunder did.

The cat sighed. “No,” he said. “I won’t be purring anytime soon until I get my lovely, gooey cheese! That’s just thunder,” he said as a raindrop fell on his head. As the large drop rolled down the small, dipped lines of black fur on his head, the cat flattened its ears and shook the water off onto Thumbelin. Spluttering, the boy looked accusingly at the cat.

“How dare you,” he said, entirely forgetting for the moment that the reason he had come outside was to get wet in the rain.

The cat didn’t blink. “Well, here comes a storm,” he said as more and more droplets fell from the dark sky above. “You don’t have any good shelter here; these little rose bushes’ leaves are too small and spread out to protect you. Don’t worry, I’ll take pity on you,” the cat said, “since you haven’t any wings to fly away with. If a raindrop catches you by surprise, you’d be knocked out for sure, which the king wouldn’t like, so I expect an even bigger wheel of cheese as a reward for this. Now, come along,” the cat said, and leaning down, caught up Thumbelin in his mouth like an undersized kitten.

“Wait! Put me down!” The boy yelled, but the cat only flicked its ears and shook his head a little in warning at the muffled sound of Thumbelin's voice. Then the cat trotted across the vast yard that Thumbelin had still never set foot in. Crawling under the largest bush in the big rose garden by the far wall, the cat stopped and spat out Thumbelin.

“You are a curious boy,” he said in a louder voice than before to overcome the rain’s hammering on the leaves above. “Why would you want me to leave you out to get soaked and bruised?”

“I want to feel the rain,” Thumbelin said huffily, with the air of an aggrieved man. “I have never had the chance to do so before.”

The cat stared in bemusement, crouched down beside the small boy. “Well, that’s good,” he said. “The fairy rulers are quite strict about their citizens not attempting to murder themselves by going out to be pelted with hundreds of water missiles. It's quite a good thing, if you ask me, but please don’t, as fairy matters do not interest me unless they concern food.”

Thumbelin gave up, his shoulders slipping down in defeat as he sighed. “Well, if I can’t go out in the rain, then would you be so kind as to take me home?” He asked. The cat turned its head to look straight at the wall behind the roses.

“I already have,” he said in an odd tone.

Thumbelin peered in the direction the cat was looking. “This isn’t my home,” he said. “The mansion is my home. That’s where my father is, and my mother, too, usually.”

His voice trailed off as he noticed a small gate, just an inch taller than he was, in the wall. Tiny roses climbed up alongside it, their branches leaning against a little stone arch jutting out from the wall. Inside the gate looked to be a tunnel, with swirled rock like marble on the floor and bright paint decorating the walls in flowery designs. Thumbelin could just make out the outline of steps further along down the hall if he squinted.

And one other shadowy outline that looked suspiciously like a person, flat against the wall.

“What is this place?” Thumbelin asked hesitantly as the person’s outline moved, stepping away from the wall and closer to him.

“This is the entryway to the wee folk’s tunnels,” the black cat said quietly. “You are one of them, are you not? Being as little as you are, I had assumed you were,” he said, and his tail moved behind him, bumping against Thumbelin and pushing the lad closer to the tunnel's mouth.

Stumbling forward, Thumbelin thought that he would fall; pinwheeling his arms as his knees buckled under him. But before he could hit the thin, beaten down mulch, the shadowy figure from the tunnel flew out and caught him, two arms holding Thumbelin firmly above the ground.

“Thank you,” Thumbelin gasped, turning to look up at his savior as he pushed himself back in their grasp.

“You’re welcome,” said a dark-skinned boy Thumbelin’s age and height. On his head, the boy was wearing a pair of glasses with thick frames made of repurposed paperclip wire and a knitted red cap that clashed with his light armor and the sword he carried. But that wasn’t what stood out to Thumbelin; it was the gently opening and closing wings, a lovely iridescent green, behind the boy that made his mouth drop open in awe.

“You have wings,” he found himself saying before manners could stop his mouth. Immediately, Thumbelin turned red, pushing himself away to stand on his own and rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to find what to say.

The boy in the cap didn’t seem to mind Thumbelin’s observation, simply nodding as he looked closely at the odd boy he’d caught. “And you don’t. Where is your Hall, then, or are you not a fairy, despite your size?”

Behind Thumbelin, the black cat shifted on its paws, drawing the boys’ attention before it spoke. “He says he lives in the mansion,” the cat said with a twitch of its tail, “though I wasn’t aware the wee folk lived with the humans in their homes.”

Thumbelin shifted uneasily as he tried to figure out why everyone was assuming he was one of the wee folk and what, exactly, the wee folk were. The winged boy in the cap raised one eyebrow, as if he were confused by the cat's words but not shocked. It didn’t seem much could phase him.

“You came from the big house?” he asked Thumbelin.

Thumbelin nodded, hoping that someone finally understood him. “Yes, and I’d very much like to get back there before Father discovers I’ve gone missing. I’m likely to get in trouble as it is,” he said as he wrung his hands together.

The winged boy nodded again, as if all of this made sense, this talking cat and the tiny boy who lived in a mansion. “How did Plagg find you, then? And if you live in the mansion, why would you go out before a storm?”

Thumbelin looked down and rubbed the back of his neck again. “I wanted to feel the rain,” he said timidly, the rainfall’s noise drowning out his reply.

“What did you say?” The boy asked, one hand behind his ear.

Looking up and blushing in embarrassment, Thumbelin spoke again, in a strong voice. “I wanted to feel the rain,” he said. “But now I wish I had just stayed inside and waited for my mother to come home or for my father to talk some sense back into me.”

“And your parents are...?” The winged boy asked, patiently drawing out the information he needed.

“Gabriel and Emilie Agreste,” Thumbelin said proudly. “My mother is a very famous actress in both England and France, and now she’s starring in an American film, too. And my father’s designs are world-famous. Have you heard of them before?”

Shrugging, the boy shook his head. “I don’t pay attention to that kind of thing,” he said, “though the Princess keeps up with human fashion. Maybe she’s heard of your old man, even drawn inspiration from him if he’s as good as you say.”

“Oh,” Thumbelin said, feeling disappointed even though he had expected something like this. From his parents’ many achievements, he had always thought everyone in Paris ought to recognize them. But then, was this hidden tunnel even part of Paris? Maybe it was a portal to some fairy world, ruled by a court of dark and light fairies and filled with dangers aplenty for humans! Thumbelin shuddered, not sure if he should be afraid if that were the case. But perhaps it wasn’t, after all.

Puffing out a sigh louder than any of Gabriel’s ever were, Plagg butted into the conversation once more. “Begging your pardon, oh watchful guard,” he said in a tone dripping with sarcasm, “but you seem to be ignoring the biggest problem here. It has been well over an hour since I was to be fed, and I still don’t smell so much as a whiff of camembert! I demand that the King come out and apologize, preferably with the largest wheel of cheese you can find.”

“Plagg, you know we store your cheese above ground,” the guard fairy said, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s much too big to fit inside the tunnel gates. If you can’t find it, then some human probably picked it up and threw the stinky thing in the garbage, where it belongs.”

Thumbelin looked back and forth between the two as they argued, not sure if he should be amused or simply baffled. “You know the cat, then?” He asked the guard.

“Know him? He forces his presence on us poor fairies night and day. It’s just my luck he shows up now, moaning about his hunger and bringing a boy who says he was raised by humans. No offense, dude, but that kind of thing just does not happen. I’m going to have to take you to our court, so they can sort out what we need to do with you. And, Plagg?” The boy sighed, looked down, and scuffed at the mulch. “Just go rob a store, will you? I can’t magic a cheese wheel out of thin air, you know.”

The cat lashed his tail behind him. “Well, it would be nice if you could,” he said sulkily. Carefully backing out of the rose bush, he stopped with his shoulders halfway in the bush and looked at Thumbelin. “I am sorry that I took you away from your home,” he said. “I thought I was doing you a favor. I didn't mean to scare you so badly, either, so as part of my apology I promise never to hold you ransom for camembert again.” With that, the cat pulled its head out from under the bush and hurried away, slinking close to the ground, and flinching as raindrops fell on its back. Thumbelin watched him go until he disappeared through the gate of the yard.

"He doesn't hold us ransom for camembert," the guard said. "What lies was he telling you?" Thumbelin shrugged, bringing one shoulder up past his ears. The guard laughed and clapped a hand on Thumbelin's back. "Let's head inside, dude," he said. "There's nothing we can do out here, and even these thick bushes will let the rain through eventually. The tunnels are warm and dry, and once the King and Queen sort out your story, we'll have you back home in a jiffy."

Thumbelin didn't respond at first, standing still as the rain fell on the roses above them. The guard shook his shoulder lightly, saying, "Dude? You're gonna be okay, alright? Just come with me. I know meeting the King probably sounds scary, but he and his family are really sweet. They'll probably end up stuffing you full of pastries and apologizing for letting Plagg catch you in the first place."

Thumbelin looked up at the guard. "I wouldn't mind a pastry or two," he said, and his lips curved in a small smile for a moment, "but I'm afraid that getting caught by Plagg was entirely my fault. If only I hadn't..." the boy dropped his head into his hands, the short-lived smile falling off his face. "I'm such an idiot," he moaned.

"Hey!" the guard said loudly. "I may not know much about you, but I'm sure you're not an idiot. Plagg's a real menace, but he means well. Just about the only two things that can keep him from mischief-making would be loads of camembert and the Princess herself; it wasn't your fault."

Thumbelin looked up. "You have a princess?" he asked. The guard nodded, and Thumbelin looked impressed. "So... you're a fairy, you have wings, and a secret tunnel, and a magic fairy court and a talking cat, and I'm going to get to see all of it? If Père weren't going to kill me when I get home, this would be the best day of my entire life! Aside from nearly getting eaten by a giant black cat," he said with a shudder.

The guard let out a startled laugh. "I'm glad," he said. "Hopefully it will only get better from here. What's your name, dude?"

Thumbelin smiled. "I'm Thumbelin," he said.

The guard laughed again. "No, no, like what's your real name, dude? I already know you're a thumbling."

"Thumbelin," the boy said, blinking in confusion. "That's what my parents named me."

For a moment, the guard looked as if he were waiting for Thumbelin to laugh and say that he was kidding, his real name was Pierre or Thomas or some other normal name. But Thumbelin didn't say that, just kept looking confused and slightly red in the face with embarrassment.

"Oh, no," the guard breathed. "Please tell me your parents did not name you the diminutive for a group of people they probably think is entirely mythical. Tell me your name is not actually Thumbelin, dude, I need to hear these words."

Thumbelin cleared his throat. "Do you need to hear all those words exactly?"

The guard lowered his head in defeat, but he laughed all the same. "At least your parents gave you good taste in movies." Looking up, the guard shook his head and smiled ruefully. "Dude, that's so messed up! Literally any one of us could be called thumbling, or thumbelin, or thumbelina, and it wouldn't mean a thing aside from identifying us as wee folk! That's like if someone were to name Plagg Chat Noir because he looks like a black cat! Actually, Chat Noir would be a better name for you than Thumbelin, because it's symbolic, but Thumbelin? It's just the worst. I'm getting you a new name, bro. Thumbelin is out. I don't care if your parents are disappointed or what, they're just going to have to accept it."

Thumbelin laughed at the guard's serious tone. "I think they might be a little disappointed," he said, "but I don't like my name much, either. What name would you give me, then? It better not be Chat Noir."

The guard stroked his chin. "Hmmm. Could be a Raphaël, but I doubt it... Théo? Definitely not." The boy murmured to himself, taking his job very seriously, before his expression brightened. "Adrien," he said, snapping his fingers. "Your name is Adrien. No ifs, ands, or buts. Come on, dude, let's get you inside! I've already felt a few drips of rain from the leaves up here; it's time to go in before we get soaked."

The guard spun around, wings snapping closed behind him as he marched towards the gate, clearly expecting Adrien to follow him into the tunnels. Not knowing what else to do, the boy took a step forward, calling ahead, "But you still haven't told me your name!"

"Nino," the guard shouted back. "Call me Nino. But never put the emphasis on the second syllable, okay dude? Alya thinks that's hilarious to do. I swear I'm going to break up with her one of these days if she keeps it up. She's even got the Princess doing it, too, calling me Ni-no like it's the funniest thing in the world! It's utterly ridiculous," Nino said with a shake of his head.

The entry tunnel led down to an even bigger tunnel, lit by tiny golden globes full of sparkling lights that floated around seemingly of their own accord. This main tunnel was nearly two feet high, and wide enough for two fairies to fly side by side in it. The firm walls were covered in intricate paintings, not all of which had the same style. If he had to guess, Adrien would suppose that many different people had done the artwork over a long period of time. The floors were still made of marble, and it was difficult for Adrien not to slip on them. Nino flew to avoid the problem, and Adrien guessed that most other wee folk did the same.

After a time walking through the tunnels with Nino, during which time they passed many more tunnels and fairies with shimmering wings, some of whom openly gawked at Adrien, Nino's wings fluttered closed, and he dropped down before a large wooden door.

"This is the door to the throne room. There's a meeting going on right now inside, but you're more important than whatever it's about. We're still going to be polite, though, so bow when you get to the center before the thrones. You only have to bow once, but address the King as His Majesty, the Queen as Her Majesty, and the Princess as Your Lady Heir. Not too difficult, right?" Nino turned to open the door, but Adrien panicked.

"Wait! How deep should I bow? Is it just from the waist while standing, or do I bow as low as I can, or should I prostrate myself? It's not a head inclination, I think you would have said that if it were, but Nino! Is this okay?" Adrien put one hand behind his back, stood with his legs together, and bowed from the waist while looking down. Peeking one eye open, he glanced up at Nino.

Nino looked somewhat impressed. "Dude, that was perfect! But it doesn't have to be, honestly everyone here is pretty chill about the whole thing. Don't worry, dude! Just breathe deeply and don't lock your knees." Hesitating, his eyes darting behind Adrien to where his wings would have been were he like the wee folk in the tunnels, Nino asked, "Do you need a minute, or are you ready to go in?"

Adrien steeled himself, his expression growing serious as he stood straight. "I'm ready," he said, and then Nino was opening the wooden doors and stepping into the most magnificent room Adrien had ever seen.

The roof of the throne room was at least four feet high, supported by pink marble columns that soared up to the domed ceiling, masterfully painted to look like the blue sky. Hundreds of floating gold globes gave light to the wide room, sending thousands of gentle rays sparkling about it. Adrien was used to large rooms, but somehow this one wowed him more than any chamber of the Agreste mansion ever had. Like a Frank Lloyd Wright building, it seemed to bring nature right into its expanse, something Adrien had never even dreamed of seeing. Unlike the tunnels, this room had a soft carpet of lush green moss, with tiny white flowers adorning it here and there. A pebble-edged stream flowed through the room, the water funneled through an opening in the wall and falling down in a light cascade to a small channel that carried the water to the center of the room, where a stone fountain stood. A bouquet jet pushed the water out and over three tiers shaped like open flower blossoms. Tracing the water's path with his eyes, Adrien looked up again towards the ceiling of the room. At the top of the pillars, gold leaf-covered petroglyphs of tiny roses were carved into stone, their detailing so beautiful and intricate that it brought tears to Adrien's eye. Before, everything he saw of art was too grand for someone his size to appreciate so deeply. But here! Here everything was intended for thumb-sized people; a thousand tiny details seemed to have been added with care, painstakingly planned by tiny artists and craftsmen, with results that spoke for themselves. Just barely lower than the pillar's capitals, woven baskets hung from the sky-painted ceiling, with flowers trailing down from them. Thyme-leaved speedwell, baby's breath, and quite a few blossoms whose names were unfamiliar to Adrien reached down from their cradles in the air, swaying gently as if to say hello. Underneath the flowers and lights and around the fountain, perhaps thirty wee folk sat facing the dais, seated comfortably on silk-covered cushions or on exposed roots that sprang up from the moss-covered floor. In the center of the room, dividing to circle the fountain, a pebble path ran, interrupted only by a root bridge over the stream, and the fairies were seated on either side of it. At the far end of the room, three backless thrones stood on the dais, two larger chairs on either side of a smaller one. The thrones were made from roots that looked like they had been grown into the shape of chairs and harvested for use here, but they looked far from uncomfortable. They were unlike any throne that Adrien could have thought up. Everything was so different from the stories he had been told, and Adrien wondered what the royals themselves would be like.

Slowly coming back to himself, Adrien noticed that Nino was halfway down the path already, pausing by the fountain to look back for Adrien as the entire room turned to stare questioningly at these boys who had interrupted their meeting. Swallowing, Adrien nodded slightly to show Nino that he was okay and took his first step into the room. As he walked over the path, Adrien kept his shoulders high, his posture as proud as his father had always encouraged it to be. Adrien did his best to ignore the rising bile in his stomach at the thought of speaking in front of all these people, who outnumbered everyone he had ever met in his life before today. He was Thumbe- he was Adrien Agreste, son of Emilie and Gabriel, and he would not be undone by mere unfamiliarity! Following Nino down to the steps leading up to the dais, Adrien dropped into a graceful bow, his blond hair tickling his ears as he peeked over to Nino for a signal to move up out of the bow. After a short eternity, Nino straightened, widening his stance as he greeted the fairy rulers.

"Your Majesties," he said, "my Lady Heir, may I present Adrien, friend of Plagg and son of the Agrestes." He swept out a hand to indicate Adrien, who was looking at the marble floor just below the thrones, afraid to look up any higher and meet the eyes of the rulers who would determine his fate. A thousand old stories of lost men and women who went insane after meeting a fairy flooded his mind, and though Nino had been nothing but kind, Adrien felt an irrational fear that these royals would turn out to be as cruel-hearted as in the myths and toss him out into the storm to die in the wild.

A strong voice filled Adrien's ears, low and deep. "Adrien, you say? How did you find him?" As he stared at the swirling marble dais, Adrien could feel the burning gaze of dozens of winged fairies staring at his back, could hear their whispers as they judged him, pitied him, laughed at him.

"Actually, du- Your Majesty, it was Plagg who found Adrien. He was out in the storm, and could have been killed had Plagg not saved him." Nino stepped closer to Adrien, touching his shoulder gently to offer what reassurance he could.

"Plagg found him while roaming around the yard? Did that scourge of a cat miss his mealtime again? He's going to eat us out of house and hole; thank goodness that farmer in Saint-Denis is willing to trade us camembert to feed Plagg with or I would have gone crazy years ago keeping up with his demands." A sigh left the king as he sank into his throne.

A higher voice cut in, impatience mixing with worry. "You were out in the storm? Don't you know how dangerous that is? I thought all our citizens knew to stay inside during rainfall, and failing that, how did you get past the guards in the first place?"

Adrien flinched. "I'm not one of your people," he said as he slowly looked up. "And I knew it could be dangerous, but I wanted to feel the rain just one time. I didn't mean to go out past my windowsill, but I don't regret where my actions led, Your-"

Adrien's voice trailed off as he saw the Princess for the first time. Her face shone with a beauty unlike anything Adrien had ever seen before, not even in the paintings his mother collected. Her deep blue eyes were focused on him, her forehead crinkled with worry. A constellation of freckles covered her nose, so faint that they were just barely visible at all. Her long black hair shimmered under the golden lights, pulled back into a ponytail with a chain of pink flowers. A silver tiara sparkled on her forehead, and a flower necklace rested on her neck. The Princess's dress had a pale, pink-spotted bodice and a deep pink skirt that flowed down over the throne, covering the backs of her dusky pink slippers. On her lap, the princess held a ladybug, her hands anxiously stroking its outer wings as she searched for something to do with her worry. Moving freely since her seat had no back to it, black, translucent wings unlike the other fairies' stretched out from her back, their shape resembling an exquisite butterfly's. They were the most beautiful wings Adrien had ever seen.

"My Lady," he breathed out, forgetting to say the rest of her title in his wonder at her beauty, and the Princess made no move to correct him. Instead, the Princess blushed, her cheeks turning a deep pink that made her freckles stand out more. Her wings snapped open and slowly closed again behind her as she stared back at Adrien.

Straightening suddenly, Adrien took a step forward, placing one foot on the first stair. "My Lady, I assure you that though I was reckless, I won't be making the same mistake again, so you don't need to worry about me. Meeting Plagg was enough to scare me out of going outside at all, though I would hate to have lived without ever having seen this beautiful world. I had no idea such wonders could exist. But I will be happy to have the memory of this place to bring back to the mansion with me."

The Princess blushed again, her mouth opening into a little "o" as she looked at Adrien. To her right, the King cleared his throat.

"That's good to hear, son. The world is quite dangerous to little folk if they don't know how to stay safe. You shouldn't be afraid to go outside again, but do stay out of bad weather."

The Princess was still looking into Adrien's eyes. "Is it true that you've never been outside before?" she asked in a soft voice.

Adrien felt self-conscious, looking bashful as he took his foot back off the stairs and rubbed the back of his neck, but he didn't look away from the princess. "It's true," he replied. "My parents are regular-sized humans, and to keep me safe, I've always been kept inside the mansion. My parents and the staff kept me company if I was lonely, and I know that they love me, but I always wanted to have more than what the mansion could offer. I suppose that's pretty selfish of me," Adrien admitted.

Frowning, the Princess flared open her wings and crossed her arms. "No, that isn't selfish of you at all! How could your parents expect you to stay inside all the time like that? I would have felt so trapped, no matter how big the mansion was. Were you even allowed to meet anyone from outside your home?"

Feeling a strange twinge in his chest, Adrien shook his head. "Other humans could have taken advantage of me if they knew about me," he said. "My parents were only looking out for me."

The Princess's frown lessened but didn't disappear. "Still," she said, "it's wrong of them to keep you locked up like some fragile piece of porcelain. We fairies might be little, but we are not weak. I hope your parents learn from this that you're not so fragile after all, and if they don't, I might be tempted to come rescue you from that awful mansion."

The king, looking amused, gave a loud laugh. "Marinette, I don't think that will be necessary," he said. "Though from the look of it, my dear wife would be more than happy to join you in your less-than-diplomatic mission."

The Queen of the Fairies, who until then had been silent, crossed her arms over her robes and looked at her husband. "Don't pretend that you're not upset on the poor boy's behalf, too," she said. "But you're right, we should let diplomacy work its magic before we try any of our own. Marinette, dear, since it's your royal training day, what do you think should be done in this situation? And to the rest of you: the meeting is adjourned. Thank you for coming; we will notify you when it is time to continue." She nodded at her daughter, sitting on the edge of her throne and fidgeting slightly.

Drawing a deep breath, the Princess pursed her lips, looking intently at Adrien. "We can't do anything until the rain stops," she said. "And it's likely to rain for quite some time; the clouds have been gathering water for weeks." Noticing Adrien's sudden look of worry, Marinette waved her hand. "We don't need to worry about flooding here, our gate tunnels have magic in them to keep out any dangers to the folk who live within. Our Hall is one of the safest in Europe," she said proudly.

"Now, when it's dry enough that we can go out, we'll need to take Adrien back home to his mansion. He doesn't have wings, which could be a problem." Looking bashful as she peered down at Adrien, Princess Marinette asked, "Would you mind telling us if you were born without them, or you lost them somehow?"

Adrien flushed red, rubbing the back of his neck. "Actually, I must have been born without them," he said. "My parents found me on the windowsill of our music room one morning, tiny, alone, and wingless. They took me in as their own, and I never went past that outer windowsill again until today. My parents always assumed I was a gift from heaven in answer to their prayers for a child, but now I'm not sure if that's the truth. I never knew other people my size existed, and now I don't know if I am a very small human or one of your people" he explained.

On the Princess' lap, the ladybug stirred, twitching its antennae in Adrien's direction. "You are certainly one of the wee folk," it said in a melodic voice. "One of this Hall's own fairies, despite your wingless state."

Before being caught by a talking cat, held ransom for cheese, and visiting a tiny underground world full of fairies, Adrien would have been more shocked by the ladybug's interruption, but now the only surprise he showed was a single step backwards.

"Your ladybug speaks," he said, looking up at the Princess.

Amused, the Princess smiled at Adrien. "She isn't really mine," she said. "I'm a friend of Tikki, just like you are a friend of Plagg."

At Adrien's confused look, she explained further. "Nino introduced you as a friend of Plagg, but until you confirmed that you were born without wings, we couldn't know for sure if you really were bonded to that cat or not. All of Plagg's friends are born wingless, holding the power of destruction in their fist."

Adrien blanched. "The power of destruction? You must be mistaken; I've rarely even chipped the chinaware in the mansion! Besides, I've never met Plagg before this afternoon."

Tikki laughed, a tinkling noise that did nothing to put Adrien at ease. "That doesn't mean you aren't Plagg's chosen," the ladybug said. "Plagg and I, like the other Kwamis, are magical beings as old as the world itself. It was we who made the little folk, who gave them magic to keep them safe and wings with which to fly. And more than that, from each generation of fairies we choose one to call our friend - not that we are unfriendly to the other fairies - and bestow on them an extra gift. This gift manifests itself physically, in a fairy's wings, or lack thereof, and magically, in the powers they wield. Marinette is my chosen; from the moment she was born her black wings showed the world who I hold dearest among all fairies and blessed with my power of creation. And you are Plagg's chosen, which is why you haven't got any wings at all. His destructive magic is quite safe to you, but it comes with a small cost: the loss of your wings."

The loss of his wings. Had he been assigned a fate as a baby, then? Adrien had never thought of himself as unlucky before, but it was hard not to when everything he thought he knew was turning to ash, leaving the small boy feeling lost and hurt. Clenching his fists, Adrien gritted out, "Then how did I end up on my parents' windowsill, or did being Plagg's chosen cost me my home and family, too?"

"Adrien," Nino said in a soft voice, "being Plagg's chosen is an honor many hope for and only a few have ever received. You're not cursed, even if you might feel that way now. I know how difficult it can be, to find out that you're the chosen one of an immortal being. Better than most would- I'm actually a friend of Wayzz! He's a turtle, he lives outside the Hall," he said at Adrien's questioning look. "However you ended up on that windowsill, it wasn't an effect of being Plagg's chosen. Your life is entirely your own, dude; do whatever you like with it."

The royals nodded their agreement. "To be honest," Tikki added, "it is quite the relief to us, that Plagg brought you here. We weren't sure what had happened to you for a long time. Over a decade ago, Plagg informed us that he had chosen a new fairy to bond with, but on the day you should have been brought before the council and recognized as a friend of Plagg, your family was lost. Sadly, we may never know what happened to them. It could have been anything, but after months went by without word from them, we assumed the worst. Plagg never told us that he found otherwise, but he often went on long, wandering journeys away from the Hall to see if he could find some evidence of your survival. I know he probably pretended to only care about his precious camembert when he met you, but believe me, it must have been overwhelming for him to have finally found you. He's likely gone off to have a good cry about it," Tikki said in a tender voice. "Once he gets over himself, I'm sure the two of you will get along nicely. But you shouldn't feel pressured to make friends with him right away; the bond between a Kwami and their chosen one is something precious and deep, and that requires time."

"Oh," Adrien said, his voice shaking as he found himself fighting tears for the third time that day. He swallowed thickly and looked down at the moss beneath his leather-clad feet.

"Are you feeling alright?" the Princess asked. "This must be so much for you to take in. What if Nino takes you to stay in his family's chambers until my parents and I come with a plan to get you home safely?"

Adrien looked up at Nino, blinking a tear free from his eye as he asked a silent question. "My family would love to have you join us, dude," Nino said. "My brother might pester you with questions about living in a mansion, though."

Giving a wet laugh, Adrien smiled. "I think I can handle that," he said.

The Princess clapped her hands together, her wings spreading out like they couldn't contain their happiness. "Perfect! I'll come over in about a half hour, and we'll see where to go from there." Suddenly looking bashful again, the Princess gripped the arms of her throne as she offered, "And, let me know if need you anything, A-Adrien." Taking a shaky breath, she continued, "I may only be a Queen-in-training, but it's my duty to care for all my subjects. And whether or not you live in this Hall, I'd like to call you one of our own," she said shyly.

Adrien smiled a little bigger, looking up at the Princess. "I would love to be called one of your people," he said in a warm voice. "And for what it's worth, I think you're doing a marvelous job as future Queen." Stepping forward, Adrien dropped to one knee on the stairs in front of the Princess' throne. As a fiery blush spread across Marinette's face, he took her right hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "Thank you, milady," he said, and Marinette found that she much preferred this to her full title when it came from Adrien's lips.

__*__*__*__*__

Back at the Agreste mansion, everyone was in an uproar. Some of the staff were sweeping the grounds for a sign of Thumbelin, flashlights at the ready should it get dark before they could find him. Others searched every inch of the mansion, from the attic to the large basement. Gabriel, himself, had abandoned his designs and canceled the evening's meeting. Pacing as he talked on the phone with Emilie, he desperately checked room after room for his tiny son, always coming back to the music room window, which was still left open.

"I can't find any open seats on a flight this late," Emilie said, her distress coming through in waves of trans-Atlantic static. "Gabriel, what if we lost our little boy and I can't even tell anyone why I'm mourning? I can't live like that, Gabriel, we have to find him."

Raking his eyes over the bookshelf where Thumbelin liked to rest with the scent of aging books surrounding him, Gabriel felt a tightening in his chest. "I'm going to find him," he breathed. "Emilie, I swear, if it's the last thing I do, I'll find our son. Don't grieve just yet; while there is light there is hope."

Emilie's voice carried a sob. "I'm trusting you," she said, more than a little desperately. "Please find him. Have the staff found him anywhere outside?"

Thinking about how big a fall it would be for little Thumbelin from the window's ledge to the ground below, Gabriel shuddered. "No," he said, "and I hope that they do not, for I can't bear to think that my son got hurt because I was a coward and neglected to pay him enough attention to keep him safe. How could any father-?"

As Emilie reassured her husband through the phone and tried again to find a flight to Paris on her computer, a shout arose from outside.

Taking a deep breath, Gabriel informed his wife. "They must have found something," he said, and swallowed. "I ought to go see what it is."

Emilie inhaled sharply. "Go," she said. "I hope it is good news, but even if it is not, we will get through this. We'll find a way, together."

Nodding even though Emilie could not see him, Gabriel breathed out shakily. "You're right," he said. "I will find a way to make this right. Keep trying to find a flight; I'll call again with the news soon." Ending the call, Gabriel stepped outside, where three of his servants waited for him.

As he came closer to where they stood, Gabriel's eyes widened. There in the grass, surrounded by a green forcefield like a turtle's shell, stood a handful of small, winged creatures, and in their center was his son.

"Thumbelin," he breathed, and knelt on the still-wet grass to be closer to his son.

A small, dark-skinned fairy who appeared to be holding up the shield sighed in exasperation. "It's Adrien, actually, dude," he said. "Thumbelin is just a name for our people. You wouldn't name your daughter "Mermaid" if she had a tail, would you?"

"Nino," hissed Gabriel's son. "We can phase it out slowly. You shouldn't be trying to upset him!"

Adjusting the glasses he wore, Gabriel frowned at the wee folk. "So, you are real, then," he said in a firm tone, showing no surprise. "I presume you are holding my son hostage, then? Be warned, this will not end well for you."

Inside the shelter, the fairies glanced at each other, some smiling and shaking their heads as if amused. A black-haired girl stepped forward, her wings beating back and forth as she left the forcefield and flew in front of Gabriel.

"We are not holding Adrien hostage, sir," she said, "nor do we intend to ask for some reward in return for keeping him safe. He is one of our own, who was lost near the time of his birth and graciously taken in by you and your wife. The only reason that our shield is up is because Nino is being extremely cautious. Evening and night are dangerous times for the wee folk, and Adrien does not yet know how to use his powers."

"His powers," said Gabriel, his manner like one who had been told that the sky was actually yellow.

"He was blessed as a baby with the power of destruction," the Princess, as her tiara showed, explained. "With proper training, he will be able to turn whatever he wishes into mere ash with one touch of his hand."

Inside the shelter, Adrien winced and rubbed the palm of his hand. "I really don't intend to do that," he said. "At least, not use my power to destroy anything important. But maybe I could use it to get rid of waste instead of leaving it to clutter some garbage dump?" He sounded hopeful that he could bring some good from this unexpected outcome.

Gabriel frowned, showing no emotion as he considered this. "I suppose that could be useful," he said. Adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, he asked, "So my son is truly one of the wee folk? Why does he not have wings, then?" His face had an odd quality to it, like he was both about to cry and far removed from feeling anything at all.

The Princess winced. "It's an unfortunate effect of being Plagg's chosen, the only one, really."

"I see. So, you found my son, or did you sneak into the mansion and steal him away for the day?"

"They found me," Adrien said. Standing stiffly, he wrapped one arm around himself. "I, uh, went out on the windowsill to see if I could feel the rain. I didn't mean to do anything more than that, but then Plagg - he's a cat - found me, and knocked me off the sill, thinking I was just a normal fairy. When he realized who I was, he took me to the fairy Hall before the storm could hurt me. Nino took me inside, once I told him that I lived in the mansion, not the Hall, and I met the fairy rulers. They told me what I am and figured out how to return me home safely, and here we are," Adrien finished, glancing up at his father with a hopeful look on his face.

Sitting back on his knees, Gabriel nodded deeply, taking his time before he looked back up with shiny eyes. "Then I must thank you," he said to the Princess, still hovering in front of him. "You look too young to be a Queen, so I presume you are the Princess. Tell your parents I am deeply grateful," he said, inclining his head ever so slightly. "And... thank you, as well," he said to the young fairy with green wings. "Though I thought Thumbelin was a perfectly fine name at the time. Thank you for keeping Adrien safe, if that is the name my son goes by now."

Nino nodded, one hand still holding the shelter up. "My pleasure. Adrien is well worth protecting, though in my opinion, the way you're going about it could stand a good deal of improvement. Ask your son, I've told him the basics. Just because he's little doesn't mean you have to keep him locked up in that mansion. And I understand not telling other humans about him, appreciate it even, but now that he has other people like him to talk to, let him. Don't keep him isolated; he's a cat, not a lone wolf."

A flicker of surprise crossed Gabriel's face. "I... will take your advice into account. It was never my intention to make Adrien feel lonely or trapped."

The Princess nodded once, her wings fluttering a bit faster in excitement. "Wonderful! You know, we fairies would love to have Adrien over as often as you can spare him. We count him as one of our own," she said, a slight blush covering her cheeks. Gabriel blinked once when he noticed.

"I'll let him go as soon as he can defend himself. Perhaps you would be willing to send Plagg, or whoever could teach him, so that he can master his power? After that, I think Emilie and I would be comfortable letting him go outside on his own."

The Princess beamed. "Of course! It's no problem," she said, waving one hand in a manner that was more adorable than grand. "And I know now is a horrible time, but I'm a big fan of your designs! I tend to look at them for inspiration when I'm making my own outfits. You're one of the best designers in France," she said earnestly.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "I'm thankful that you think so, your Highness," he said. A faint squeal left the Princess, and Nino shook his head fondly while Adrien beamed.

"Right! So, if Adrien is ready, you can take him back inside the mansion. He'll just walk through the shield - you can't reach in it to pick him up, you're not a fairy - and then we'll head back to our Hall. Oh, and our Hall is located in the roses just over there," she gestured to the far wall. "They provide excellent cover for the tunnel gates. Adrien knows how to get to the main entry, and Plagg or Nino or I can show him the rest. Your son will be able to come and go as he likes in under a week! And may the Kwamis bless you until our next meeting."

"You, as well," Gabriel said, though he wasn't sure what, exactly, a Kwami was.

Flying back into the shelter, the Princess turned to Adrien. "Go now you can," she said. "I mean, if you're ready, you can go. We'll see you soon! I'll send Plagg over tomorrow. Leave the window open or he'll yowl at the door and then demand some camembert for his wait."

"Thank you, My Lady," Adrien said, his cheeks a faint pink as he smiled at Marinette. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Come on, dude, what about me?" Nino asked. "I'm the one killing my arm to keep you safe right now."

Grinning, Adrien laughed. "Thank you, Nino," he said. "Your family made me feel right at home. You're the best friend I've ever had."

"And the only one," Nino teased. "Go on back to your old man now, he's getting grumpy kneeling on the grass in that fancy suit."

Taking a step forward, Adrien hesitated, then walked back over to Nino and hugged him, the fairy giving an "oomph" at the force of the hug and smiling fondly at Plagg's chosen. "See you soon, bro," he said.

Marinette's eyes sparkled as she smiled at the pair. "Farewell, Adrien. May the Kwamis keep you safe until we meet again."

Stepping out of Nino's embrace, Adrien bowed to the Princess, a faint smile on his face. "Thank you, My Lady," he said. "May the Kwamis keep you safe, as well." And he stepped out of the fairy shield into his father's waiting hands.

__*__*__*__*__

Sunday morning in Paris was clear and bright. The sun had risen just over an hour ago, and the birds' morning songs still echoed across the city's streets and parks. On the verdant green grass, a thousand dewdrops sparkled like diamonds under the sun's soft rays. As a light breeze brushed along the many blades, the drops slid down the grass to the dirt below, leaving a damp trail behind them. As the last of the birdsongs ended, leaving the neighborhood as quiet as a city morning can be, the breeze moved in snake-like patterns across the grass, stirring the blades into one last dance before leaving them behind and sweeping upwards to dance with the morning sun. The wind twirled around a lamppost, doffed a paperboy's hat, and sailed down a street before it slowed, approaching a large house in the heart of the city. From an open window, piano music rose, a blithe melody mixing with the wind as it gently swayed the curtains, announcing its presence.

On the piano bench, a blonde-haired woman sat, her eyes crinkled with a happy smile as her fingers danced across the keys. To her right, a tall man in a white suit tapped his foot along to the rhythm, his hand raised as he counted down the measures until he would turn the page for his wife. She was playing a new song today, a transposition of an American jazz tune she'd heard while traveling back to Paris. The song reminded her of ragtime classics like "Maple Leaf Rag" by Joplin or of Glenn Miller's "Little Brown Jug," free-flowing and without the sad undertones so many jazz songs hold. A single pink rose sat in a glass vase on the piano's lid, closed to muffle the noise and avoid waking the neighbors, still enjoying their weekend rest. As the happy tune joined the morning breeze in its dance, Gabriel moved a little closer to his wife and put an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss onto her head. Laughing, she stumbled over the next few chords but kept playing, her husband murmuring an apology in her ear.

Just outside the open window, sitting carefully on a single red rose blossom just past its peak, a small boy listened to the song his parents were playing, notes reaching his ear faintly but clearly. Closing his eyes, he bobbed his head along with the music, imagining himself playing along with his mother when she worked out which part he would have and made a new copy of the song. The wind blew through the thin black cloth of the suit that he was wearing, and he shivered a little until a sunbeam chased away the chill. Beneath the rose bush Adrien rested on, a black cat lay peacefully, his full belly stretched out over the brown mulch, fluffy fur rising and falling with his deep breaths. If you got close enough, you might hear an indistinct purr come from Plagg's chest, the Kwami finally content now that his chosen had been found. He'd spent the last few days training his young friend, teaching him important things like how to destroy a spider's web without it sticking to his fingers and which brand of camembert was acceptable to buy from a store. "The difference is in the food the cows eat," he said to Adrien. For if the cows aren’t satisfied, then it is impossible to make anything good from the milk they produce. “In short, if the cows aren’t happy, I’m not happy,” Plagg said, and sniffed in displeasure when Adrien laughed, still in wonder that even a magical cat could eat any cheese at all. But by now Adrien was learning how to understand the little cat’s quirks, and how to tell when he was only pretending to be unhappy. Hugging the cat’s front paw, he’d assured Plagg that he would be sure only to give him the finest camembert Paris could offer. The cat's eyes grew soft and full in response, and he'd wrapped his tail around the small boy.

As the song ended and Emilie pondered whether to practice it again or begin a different piece, Adrien opened his eyes and smiled. Leaning back cautiously, he looked up at the baby blue sky with thin white clouds strung here and there like leftover winter decorations. A breeze left the music room, seeking a new partner to dance with, and ruffled Adrien's hair as it went. He found he didn't mind, his mind too occupied with other things to worry about a perfect appearance. Today was a beautiful day, filled with spring-like hope and calm weather perfect for taking a walk in. Perhaps in the afternoon he'd convince Plagg to accompany him out through the gate, a cover for any curious humans that might see the thumbling and take a picture or try to take him home. It would be his first time outside the Agrestes' yard. Adrien had visited the fairies' Hall several times since his return to the mansion, but Gabriel still insisted he only go with someone else until he mastered Plagg's power. He looked forward to the day his parents would let him walk to the hidden tunnel on his own, but he was grateful that they were willing to let him leave the house at all after the scare he'd given them. For the first four days after his unexpected journey, they'd been reluctant to leave him alone even just in the mansion, but Nino's words had stuck with them, and they were trying to be less restricting. The last time Nino came to visit, he'd mentioned a school the wee folk ran, and Adrien hoped to convince his parents to let him go there in the fall. It would be easier than homeschooling him and worrying about getting tutors who'd keep quiet about the tiny boy in the Agreste mansion.

The hum of quickly beating wings interrupted Adrien's thoughts. Looking up, he saw a bee flying around the flowers, checking to see if they were suitably full of nectar. It approached the flower Adrien sat perched on, but Plagg let out a growl from underneath the bush and the bee flew away as if in response. Not Pollen, then, Adrien thought to himself. On Thursday, the bee Kwami had been the one to bring him to the Hall for a visit. She occasionally came by to chat about the quality of the roses and to pay Emilie compliments for keeping them so healthy. Emilie always smiled and responded in as gracious a manner as the one she used with Gabriel's famous clients, which made Pollen quite pleased.

Inside, a new song began to play, carrying across the room and searching outside for the wind to come dance with it again. Adrien tapped his fingers to the beat, swaying happily. As he looked off into the distance, a small speck of pink appeared, slowly moving closer and growing in size. Soon, he could see two black wings beating the air and a blue flower necklace trailing behind Marinette as she approached Adrien. He stood up, smiling excitedly at the unexpected visitor. Hovering over the rose Adrien stood on, the Princess smiled and waved at him. He blushed a pale pink, and from below the bush, Plagg let out a quiet laugh that neither fairy noticed.

"Good morning, My Lady," Adrien said in a slightly breathless voice, like he'd forgotten to breathe before standing up. "How are you doing on this lovely day? The weather is quite meowvelous, don't you think?"

The Princess rolled her eyes, lips tugging upwards as she fought a smile. "I was feeling better before being cursed with another one of your puns," she said. "Here I was ready to take you to the midsummer festival with me, but your taste in jokes might make me reconsider..."

Adrien's eyes widened and he took a step forward. "Wait! I promise not to p-!" The rose beneath him was not as stable as he'd hoped it would be, and Adrien choked on air as the rose tilted with his weight, dumping him off the edge of the flower. The Princess darted downwards, arms outstretched to catch the blond boy before he landed on a thorny branch or the mulch below. As Adrien landed in her arms, she faltered, her wings not ready for the extra weight, but soon she was rising back up above the rose bush, holding Adrien in a bridal carry as he looked up at her face, his own turning a deep pink.

"Are you okay?" Marinette asked him, worry etched on her face.

Nodding slowly, Adrien relaxed in the Princess's arms. "I'm fine," he said, "just a bit shaken. I wasn't expecting to fall for you today, milady," Adrien grinned.

Marinette blushed, looking away as she tried to conceal the red covering her cheeks. Plagg met her gaze, smirking a little as he got up to follow the Princess to the flower garden. She scowled at him and turned her attention back to the boy in her arms. "Make another joke like that and I'll drop you," she warned. "Puns are the lowest form of joke, you know. I demand better material."

Adrien sighed at the Princess's disdain. "You'll appreciate them someday," he said. "I bet you're just a late bloomer when it comes to flowery jokes like mine." Then he winced. "I suppose that one could have been better, though," he admitted.

"It's no worse than the others," Marinette said with a laugh as she set off across the yard. "And I'll never say this again, but I think it's cute that you're expanding your repertoire now that you know you're one of the flower fairies. All the fairies do- your flower puns have even charmed my father into wishing you were his son," she said. "So, tell Gabriel to mind his behavior or we might steal you properly sometime."

Adrien leaned back his head and laughed. "I wouldn't mind being held hostage in such a lovely Hall too much," he said, "as long as the ransom is sufficiently high. I'm Plagg's chosen; I'm worth quite a bit of money. Twenty tons of gold might be a reasonable amount to ask for," he said with a nod that spoke to his skill in determining the size of a ransom for thumb-sized fairies. Marinette giggled again, her laugh sounding clear as a bell. Adrien beamed up at her, smiling as the wind whipped the Princess's long hair around behind her.

"All right, Adrien, let's go before my parents start wondering if you haven't kidnapped me," she said with a sparkle in her eyes. "They can't start the party without us, after all. You're the guest of honor, Chat Noir," she said, mouth curving into a smirk.

Adrien frowned. "I told Nino not to call me that," he complained. "I only called him Ni-no one time, and now I'm stuck with being "the black cat" forever. I don't even have ears," he mock-pouted. "Why would I go by "Chat Noir" if I don't look like what I'm calling myself?"

Marinette snorted at Adrien's dramatic tone. "Well, if he keeps it up, I might start calling myself "Ladybug" in sympathy," she said. "After all, I'm the one who started this in the first place. Well, me and Alya, I suppose. It's only fair that I suffer with you."

Adrien's eyes glittered. "You do realize I could make your own title into a pun, then?" he asked. Marinette's eyes widened, and she gasped before scowling down at Adrien.

"If you do, I won't hesitate to drop you right now," she said. "Wings or no wings."

Adrien only grinned back at her. "You wouldn't," he said. "Besides, I can't make it a proper pun until you start going by Ladybug, so you still have time to change your mind about it."

Marinette sighed in relief. "Good, though I'm not sure that I will. Nino's going to get me back one way or another; I'd rather have a say in how. And this way, we'll match," she said. "Ladybug and Chat Noir: two Kwami-friends with fitting titles. We'll be the perfect pair."

"Just you and me against the world," Adrien agreed. Marinette raised an eyebrow. "Well, maybe just against Nino," Adrien amended.

"That's more like it," Marinette laughed. As she landed at the edge of the flower garden, she set Adrien down gently, stepping back and brushing off her skirts. A silver-winged fairy waved them into the tunnels, and Adrien let Marinette go in first before heading in after her. At the center of the Hall, the throne room was decorated for a party, streamers hung from the ceiling and fresh flowers were everywhere. The fountain's water was charmed into a fizzy pink drink, and fairies were gathered around it, holding cups and plates, and chatting. A round table just off the path was filled with fresh pastries, some of which were made by the King and Queen themselves, the Princess told him.

"And I made this for you," Marinette said, holding up a yellow confection. "Nino passionfruit told me- erm," she broke off with an embarrassed flush, "I mean, Nino told me passionfruit is your favorite, so- here." She handed him the macaron, creamy yellow filled with white cream.

Adrien stared at the treat in his hand for a moment. He'd never seen a passionfruit macaron before! Taking a bite, he closed his eyes and chewed slowly as the flavors burst on his tongue, tangy and sweet all at once. It was the best macaron he'd ever had. "Mmmm," he moaned, and Marinette poked her index fingers together, biting her lip as she waited for Adrien's verdict.

Opening his eyes, Adrien beamed at Marinette. "This is amazing!" he said. "My Lady, I hope you made some more, because I won't leave you alone until I get to have another one. If this is at all near what the pastries your parents make taste like, I'm surprised they aren't part-time bakers when they aren't busy ruling!"

Marinette grinned, her wings beating in excitement and carrying her up an inch off the floor. "Thank you so much!" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad you like them, it was a new recipe and I wasn't sure if it would work, but Tikki helped me out and Maman said they looked delicious and- I'm so happy you think they turned out well," she said, eyes shining as she smiled down at Adrien, gently coming down to rest beside him on the moss again.

"My Lady, I can't believe this is just an experimental batch for you! It's simply scrumptious, I could eat this every day for the rest of my life." Marinette blushed and beamed, her wings spreading open and brushing against Adrien's arm. He shivered, laughing, and looked down at the Princess. "I hope you know how talented you are," he said. "We fairies are lucky to have you as our future Queen."

Marinette's blush deepened, her eyes widening as she looked up at Adrien. "T-thank you," she stuttered out. Shaking her head to clear it, she took Adrien's hand in her own. "Well, there's more to the party than just food," she said. "Would you like to say hello to the visiting Kwami-friends? I can introduce you as Chat Noir," she teased.

Adrien smirked. "I don't mind being called anything but late for dinner as long as you're the one calling me," he said.

Marinette rolled her eyes with a helpless grin. "Come on," she said, tugging Adrien's arm as she pulled him over to meet Daizzi and Roaar's chosen. Adrien went along willingly, his bright laughter filling the Hall.

In the Agreste mansion, a happy couple sat down to brunch together, chatting with the staff and trusting that their son would return to them safe and sound. Outside their window, the rose bushes waved hello to their cousins by the wall, red and pink petals dropping on the brown mulch below. And underneath the largest rose bush, a black cat lay guarding the entrance to the Hall's tunnels, a little ladybug sitting on his paw. In the tunnels below, their chosen were dancing together under gold-glowing lights, and laughter and music spilled out through the Hall's guarded gate. All was well in the world.

#thumbelina au #ml au #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #writing #fanfiction #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #lovesquare #my writing

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