Marinette was princess of France. She was not always happy with that fact, but her parents assured her that all would be well. When she brought up concerns for her future, they always comforted her. They told her that being a royal was not as glamorous as people made it out to be, but it had its advantages. For example, she never had to worry about where her next meal was coming from. She would be allowed to follow her passion of fashion as long as she fulfilled her duties as princess. After all, her parents made delicious food together. At one point, she had made a list of the pros and cons of her life. When her parents had discovered it, they had laughed at the pros, one of them being, "pastries".

Through all of her trials, Marinette was a happy girl. She always had a smile on her face and tried her best to understand others situations. Sometimes, she would run out in the street in boy's clothes so she could play with the children without them going easy on her. No one paid her a second glance, only thinking of her as a peasant's child. Her parents knew and encouraged it- it would be good for her to know her future subjects. Knowing their opinions and some personalities would be helpful when she had to rule. For now, she played pretend royalty with the children. She was mediocre in the games they played, but she was fine with not being the best. One day, in late August, she noticed a boy hanging out on the fringes of the group. She walked up to him and he said nothing. She studied him. The boy looked about her age with blond hair. His green eyes were open wide, observing the game of soccer that she had just subbed out of.

"Do you want to join?" she asked softly. He was obviously startled and jumped upon seeing her.

"Umm… I'm fine, really. I was just watching." He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. She continued to look at him pointedly, waiting for him to say more. He tried to ignore her, but after a few minutes he gave in.

"I don't want to be a bother. I would if I could, but…I'm a tiny bit too shy to ask."

"Rom-hey Rom, can he join?" Marinette yelled. The kid nodded in approval and she turned towards the boy. She smiled in victory. He stared in shock, but her smile was infectious. She noticed that they were subbing in, and she took his hand. He blushed a tiny bit, but she took no notice. She pulled him along with her, hauling him onto the field. 'He had been observing for a while, so he knew the basics, right?' wondered Marinette. She nodded to herself, assured. Her assumptions were soon proved correct. Rom kicked the ball to her after maneuvering around a taller girl named Sara. She kicked it to the new boy, who had run from her side to the end of the field to the goal. He dribbled for a little, closing in the distance. He was surrounded by the defense, but he feigned left, went right, and kicked the ball above him into the air. He caught it on his knee through skill or a miracle, and everyone stood around in shock. He easily tricked the goalie and they had a point. Her team congratulated him while he stood sheepishly. Most of the opposing team was still in shock and the few who weren't were whispering to each other. He walked back to where Marinette was standing. She smiled at him. They continued to play, but the children soon deemed that the boy himself was an unfair advantage. At one point his team consisted of the worst players and Marinette. They were taken as a pair, as was done in the games they played. They were given the kids who couldn't pass, but Marinette stole the ball and always got it to him. He soon was christened Chat Noir. Why did they choose Black Cat? Because him playing was a bad sign for them. They separated the two after a while, deeming her help to be of great help. He had to run harder and faster, but he was able to get the ball. Her absence simply inconvenienced him- the end of the games that had once been two minutes long was now prolonged to four or even five. In their normal games, they took about ten for a single goal to occur. At the end of the day, he was hero and villain to both sides at alternating times. Marinette was proud of him and happy for his achievements. He trotted back to her after his seventh win and he grinned.

"Good job!" she congratulated.

"You too!" They conversed for a while about small nothings. As they were discussing which was better- green or red, somehow-she heard his stomach growl. He continued his speech about why green was connected with better holidays and objects. He ignored the fact that his stomach was practically screaming. Marinette was still half-listening when she launched herself into her thoughts.

This kid was hungry-he had definitely been putting off food for a long time. A day? More? And he seemed so used to it-he just ploughed through his speech. He was still fast and pretty fit, so he couldn't have been starving for very long. He looked pretty average for the lower-class Parisians.

"...would use Christmas as an example but red is involved there too."

"Red is better, on so many levels," she continued before he could argue. "Do you want some lunch? I'm sure-"

"Oh, uh, no thanks. I'm not hungry." She looked at him expectantly, and his stomach seemed to see this was a chance for food. It growled, and it was loud. He looked sheepishly at her and she took his hand. This time, he seemed to figure it was just who she was, and his blush was absent.

"We are grabbing lunch," she declared as she pulled him along.

"I don't have enough money! Besides, I'm not that hungry anyway."

"I'll take care of the cost."

"No, I'm fine."

"No, you're not," she insisted stubbornly. She continued to drag him behind her, and he gave up trying. She brought him to a small restaurant. She walked inside and motioned for him to stay. She had a few words with the chef and soon a waiter was coming to their table, asking what he wanted. He answered, and the waiter left. He stared at her in amazement.

"How…?" he started to ask.

"No questions asked. You are going to have lunch, and you will not refuse the food unless it is unsatisfactory," she demanded. He nodded, unsure of what to do. They were quiet while they waited for their food. Marinette was desperate for a conversation- anything- so she started to ask questions.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Seven."

"Hey, me too. Do you have any pets?"

"Sadly, no."

"Do you have any family?"

"My dad died. I never knew him, so I'm not sad. I'm an only child. It's just me and my mom. I like it this way. We might be pretty poor, but we're happy enough to have each other."

"Oh. That's good that you have each other." She had loving parents, she knew. They took time off work to help her studies and for family bonding time. She couldn't imagine life without her dad- but if you never had one, she guessed he couldn't miss one.

"What about you? D'ya have any pets or family? I'm guessing you are from a noble family. Am I right?"

"I don't have any pets, and I'm not from a noble family. I'd kinda rather not say who I am."

"Alrighty then. What should I call you?" She looked down at her clothes. She was wearing a red. She looked out the window, and blurt out the first thing she noticed. It was a tiny little red and black insect, feasting on the aphids living off the flowers in the hanging baskets.

"Ladybug. Call me…Ladybug, I guess."

"If we're calling each other by codenames, I guess you should just call me Chat Noir. Do the other kids know who you are?"

"No, they don't really care that much. Unless you win every round." She looked pointedly at him, and they both laughed.

And thus their friendship started. They would eat lunch together, though Marinette still worried about him. In return, he would find small gifts to give her. Some days they would play games with the other kids, but most of the time they hung out together. They were practically inseparable. When other royals came by, Marinette would put on a fake smile and be what was expected of her. She seemed to be the perfect Princess. As soon as she could, though, she would change into one of her "Ladybug Outfits"- various types of clothes that were styled after Ladybugs, yet still blended into the Parisian streets. No one paid much attention to her as she ran past houses and stores, searching for her friend. She had other friends, of course- she was really close with Alya, who had an interesting backstory.

Alya was a princess of a country gone. She had once been the Princess of Gallia, but the monarchy had been changed into a democracy. Her parents let the people vote after noting common frustration, and they were not surprised to see the results-the people wanted a democracy. So, her parents were pretty wealthy politicians, but Alya still visited other countries as an Ambassador. She was Marinette's age, and her birthday was three months difference. Before Chat Noir, Alya had been the closest friend Marinette had. She still visited from time to time, but not often enough to be much of a rival to Chat. Alya had advice on a variety of subjects, ranging from how to dress to what to say. She always had something funny to say, and something kind to do.

Needless to say, no one knew that the princess was Ladybug. The store owners around the block only knew that the pair had the Royal Chips, which were given to those who had helped the monarchs. No one imagined that the perfect princess was running around the town. The years went by. The duo built a treehouse in Parc Montsouris, one of the parks in Paris when they were twelve. They used scraps of wood and metals to create it. It originally didn't look pretty, but with Marinette's skill with a needle and thread, it was covered in pretty cloth. It became their hangout and meeting place. They met up at least thrice a week, sometimes more. They most of all liked to play pretend and sometimes wrote some of it down. They had a joke that one day they would become co-authors and write under their pen-names. Sometimes they would wonder about each other's identities, but they never really asked about it. They were best friends, no matter who they were. Ladybug never really cared about who he was-she knew enough about him. They were best friends, and that was that. That was who he was to her. But to Chat Noir, identity meant more. He knew nothing-she knew he was on the poorer side of the city. He felt that he should know what her real name was, but she had made sure that it was clear-she didn't want to tell him her name. It hurt sometimes, more than he cared to say. She didn't trust him enough, not like he trusted her. He would have told her more about his family, their lineage and stories. But she never asked, nor offered hers. Identity was not a crisis she was going through. Chat tried to understand, but he just couldn't. He ended up pretending sometimes, that she trusted him enough to make herself known and care for who his family was.

Ladybug sometimes saw this, but she refused to change her ways. She tried to ease his inner turmoil by distracting him in their games. Sometimes, they would cook up schemes to prank the older kids who bullied the younger. They surprisingly stopped a great deal of bullying on the streets while amusing themselves.

Nevertheless, they grew older. Eight turned into nine, and nine into ten, ten to eleven. Inevitably, the years rushed by, their friendship never wavering. They trusted each other with their lives, and nothing could change that. Sooner than they expected, they were teenagers. They celebrated their birthdays together, and in late August-the anniversary of their friendship- they met in their treehouse.

The ladder was made of sturdy wood. Ladybug had wanted it to be made of rope, but then she realized that Chat seemed untrusting of it. She decided to let him keep some of his pride and suggested wooden stairs instead. He had happily agreed, trying to cover up his joy by claiming that "wood smells nicer". She made no comment, only gathering the wood required. Soon, she was glad for the decision because the rope they had stashed away got eaten by the squirrely neighbors. They had made a hollow floor to hide belongings in, but somehow the squirrels still found their stashes.

In the year of their fifteenth birthdays, France was suffering from a plague. It was named the Incurable Plague, for no one knew how it was spread or how it was caused. From what scientists could tell, it didn't affect children as severely as adults. The two had discussed it at length on one cloudy afternoon as they prepared their treehouse for the weather. They decided it wasn't much of a threat to them, and not to worry about it.

Ladybug was sure to be early for their anniversary birthday celebration. She had made a cake with her parents and pretend to have eaten it over the last few days-but in reality, she had been saving it. She had given up a week's worth of desserts, but it was worth it. Chat Noir had been insistent that what he would bring would remain a secret. She knew he wasn't expecting decorations, so she decorated. When he finally stepped up the ladder, he almost fell over in surprise. Ladybug grabbed his hand and ensured his safety. He looked around. There were so many colors. She had changed out the cloth-instead of their incognito brown and green shades, she had changed the colors to red, green, and black.

"I wanted to just decorate with red and black, but I guessed you wouldn't like that. It's half your birthday, after all," she said with a teasing smile.

"One day you will see the truth-green is the best color out there." He gestured to the half-green tablecloth, dramatically picking up a green birthday candle in the shape of the number "1", and sat down in his chair. He stuck the candle into the middle of the cake with a twirl of his fingers. She rolled her eyes at his obvious attempt to show off.

"You wish, kitty," she shot back. She picked up her own number, a red-colored one, and stuck it in the cake, making the number into a fifteen.

"Happy fifteenth birthday!" they said in unison. They looked at each other for a long moment, and then they burst out laughing. The joy in the atmosphere was evident. Ladybug took a knife and cut the slice. Chat Noir was surprised to find that the inside was colored. He looked at her pointedly when he saw the red coloring inside of it. She smirked at him.

"Don't tie your whiskers in a knot, Chat. Look at the other half." He visibly perked up when he saw the other half was green. He clapped his hands in excitement and anticipation. She gave him a slice that would have fed three people besides himself, but they both knew his appetite could take it. He rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. He faked an evil laugh, eventually breaking into uncontrollable laughter. Somehow, he managed to utter an entire sentence.

"I shall take over the world with the cake!" She kept a deadpan expression on her face for a full twenty seconds before she erupted in laughter. When their laughter finally settled down into giggles, they ate their cake. Both agreed that it was one of the best cakes that they had ever tasted. Chat smiled as he stepped down the ladder. He made her promise not to look. She closed her eyes and waited for him tro give her the cue. He tapped her shoulder and she opened her eyes. The only sound was her small gasp. Ladybugs and fireflies were flying out of jars that Chat had set up around the tree, on branches and on the floor. The glow from the fireflies made the Ladybugs glow in the night. She looked at him in wonder, looking at the way his face was lit up in delight and by the soft light. Two Ladybugs landed in his hair, and three more on his face. She giggled and he looked at her. His grin grew- if that was even possible at this point- at the sight of Ladybugs crowding her too.

"Happy Birthday, Ladybug."

"You too, Chat. You too," she whispered with tears in her eyes as she hugged him.

"I was going to only have ladybugs, but I figured we'd meet at night and you wouldn't be able to see-"

"It's purrfect, Chat."

"Was that a pun? I don't think I've ever heard you make a pun."

"Neither have you. It'll be my new thing, I guess." In response, he laughed. She didn't think there was a more beautiful sound in the world.

They spent the rest of the night stargazing. It had been Chat Noir's idea to stargaze one night years previous, and it had become a tradition on their anniversary. They would point out the constellations they knew, and they both went through a phase of actually mapping the stars. They spent the night calling out the names of the stars and arguing on who was right. It was peaceful. Neither knew what would soon take place.