Hush {{ Ladynoir }}

Chapter Three

~Warning: origin spoilers!!~

She seems sad, standing in the moonlight. Slowly, he approaches her, unsure of what to say. She extends her hand gently, but it quickly falls back at her side.

"Don't look at me," she whispers as she begins to weep. "You - you can't see me like this!"

"Shh." He reaches up and caresses her tear stained face. "It's okay. It'll be okay . . . "

The texture under his hand is no longer skin, he realizes. The wetness is not from her tears. He draws his hand back to find it stained red.

Her sky blue eyes are the last thing he sees before she collapses into his arms.

Adrien gasps, waking in a cold sweat. The sun illuminates the room around him and indicates that it is already late morning. Heart still racing, he climbs out of bed and trudges to the bathroom. He turns on the faucet and splashes his face, hoping the cold water will wash away the lingering nightmare.

"Morning, sunshine," greets Plagg sarcastically, floating into the room. Adrien reaches for a gray hand towel and shoos his kwami out of the way.

"Not in the mood."

Plagg's mind turns as he tries to think of something to say, but he instead retreats back into the room. Adrien stands there at the mirror, carefully examining his reflection. His heart no longer plummets into his stomach; now it's just an irritating numbness.

An loud knock on the door interrupts his thoughts. He rushes over and pulls it open to find Natalie, her face showing as much expression as a stone. "Good morning, Adrien," she says monotonously. "Breakfast is ready."

"Thank you. I'll be right down."

Downstairs, the table is set with two plates consisting of eggs, croissants, and sausage. The two seats are across from each other on the grand dining room table. It's only the two of them eating this morning, which doesn't make much of a difference than before. The late Mr. Agreste preferred to eat in his office anyway.

Adrien wonders if he crossed any of his father's thoughts while he was dying.

Eating silently, he is less than focused on the usual meal on his plate. Natalie does the same, and he can only guess what she is thinking. Finally, she interrupts the silence.

"As you know, your father willed his company to you, Adrien. Have you given any thought as to what you're going to do with it?"

Under any normal circumstance, the question would be inappropriate, considering Gabriel only passed away two days before. But Natalie understands that Adrien feels no grief, and he is grateful for that.

"No. Well, yes. There's a girl I know, her name is Marinette. Her designs are incredible and she's going to Paris University of the Arts on scholarship next year. I may hang on to it for awhile until she's ready to continue the line."

"Oh?" she remarks, eyebrows raised. "You do realize this is a business. You can't just 'hang on' to it for a certain amount of time."

Adrien turns half a croissant over with his fork. "Unless I marry her."

Natalie's eyes grow wide. "Marry her!? For business purposes? Adrien, that's preposterous!"

He laughs. "Calm down, I'm joking. I don't know what I'm going to do yet. I'm surprised he didn't will it to you."

"Well," she says, folding a napkin on her lap, "I would be more than happy to help you out. After all, I do have the experience. I hope I can be your assistant should you decide to keep the company."

Nodding, he takes a small bite. "Of course. But I'm not sure what to do yet. I'll figure something out soon, though, I promise."

~~

For a prim and proper businessman, Gabriel Agreste owned so much clutter. Once admitted to the hospital, Natalie began packing up his belongings for safekeeping. Adrien never thought much of it, nor did he really care.

But he knows going through his father's things was a good thing to do. He steps into his late father's office, the afternoon light flooding the room and reflecting off the marble floors. The air is stiff and hot, unusual for this time of year, so he opens the balcony door and every window. Once a cool breeze circulates throughout the room, he begins unpacking.

Shuffling though cardboard boxes, he hopes to find family relics, important hand-me-downs, or any information about his mother.

Oh, to be able to find her.

All he comes across in a box of random items are an old stopwatch and a photo of himself as a child. So he moves on to the next box.

The process continues as he finds miscellaneous items that have no real meaning. A sudden ache creeps up on his shoulder and he decides to take a break. He stands, stretches, and reaches down to pick up the assorted items, until he hears a faint noise coming from the corner by the empty bookshelf. Thinking it was his imagination, he shrugs and makes his way out the door.

Again, the noise. This time, it sounds more like a whimper, like a hurt animal.

Gingerly, he approaches the towering stack of boxes. He puts his ear to each one, but all sound hollow and nearly empty. The noise sounds again when he listens to the bottom one, and there it is. He takes off the top boxes one by one until he reaches it. It's labeled in a bold DO NOT OPEN and PROPERTY OF GABRIEL AGRESTE.

Upon opening the mysterious package, Adrien finds it is empty, aside from a purple creature smaller than his hand and a butterfly-like brooch.

A kwami and its miraculous.

"Wh-who are you?" the creature whimpers.

"No," he whispers. "No. Plagg!"

The black kwami, that normally hides in his inner pocket, is not there.

"PLAGG!"

"Where is Ga -- my master?" cries the kwami.

Adrien's head is spinning, his thoughts drowning him, barely allowing him to breathe.

"He's dead!" Adrien shrieks. "Your master is dead!"

He takes off out of the room, unable to stay a moment longer. Barely able to see, tears sting his eyes, threatening to flow over. He rushes into his room and slams the door.

"Plagg! Where are you?"

A black blur emerges from the open mini fridge, where cheese has been spilled all around. "Sorry man, I just found out you restocked. What's going on?"

"The kwami. The purple kwami, the butterfly. What's its name?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"What is its name!? And why is it in my home?"

Plagg hesitated. "Nuru, it's Nuru."

"Why is it in my father's office?"

"Adrien, what are you talking about?"

"My father was Hawkmoth," he whispers.

"What?"

"My father!" he cries, the tears now flowing. "My father was Hawkmoth, my enemy! He nearly killed me for this stupid ring!"

Adrien yanks the silver ring off his finger with such force it nearly breaks. It flies across the room as Plagg is sucked back into it, and hits the ground with a tink.