THERMOPYLAE
Day 1
"Alright, class, beginning today I'm assigning a pairs research project," Marinette's history teacher said. "And no, Chloé," she added in a bored tone, "you're not pairing with Sabrina. Or Adrien. Unless you get lucky."
Chloé crossed her arms and pouted as the room erupted in snickers.
The teacher took a bowler hat off her desk and walked down the aisles. "Take one slip of paper from the hat," she instructed. "Each slip has a number on it. There are two slips with each number. The matching numbers will be the pairs."
"Why can't we pick our own pairs?" Chloé whined.
"Because when you go out into the real world, you won't always get to choose who you're going to be assigned to work on a project with by your employer—for those of you who are actually going to have jobs. Think of this as experience with how the real world works."
"The real world works however my Daddy, the Mayor, says it works," Chloé huffed.
"Yeah, well, your daddy the Mayor isn't in charge of my classroom," the teacher muttered.
When Marinette's turn came, she reached into the hat and withdrew a slip with the number '4' written on it. Once the teacher had finished passing around the hat, she returned to her desk and picked up a notepad and pen. "Alright, if you have number one, raise your hand."
Nino's hand shot up. Nobody else's did. The teacher frowned.
All eyes turned suspiciously to Chloé. She crossed her arms defensively. "What?"
Adrien got up, walked over to Chloé, and took the slip of paper that laid in front of her. He looked at it and rolled his eyes. "Chloé's number one," he said.
"Makes sense, she dresses like number one," Alya whispered. Marinette snickered.
"Alright, alright," The teacher said. "Thank you, Adrien. Chloé, you're partnered with Nino. Don't try to get out of it." She wrote it down on her notepad. "Who's got number two?" Sabrina's hand shot up, as did Juleka's. Sabrina flinched when she saw who she'd been partnered with. "Number three?" Alya's hand went up next, as did Rose's. "Good. Number four?"
Marinette raised her hand.
So did Adrien.
Marinette nearly fainted.
Once the teacher finished assigning the pairs, she pulled a paper bag out from under her desk. "Alright, now for the other surprise," she said. "Normally, I'd let you choose your own research topics, but this time, I've prepared a list of topics which I will be assigning randomly, just like we chose the pairs."
Everyone groaned.
"Oh, come on," the teacher said. "I get so little joy out of this job, at least let me have fun tormenting you all a little." She gave the class a teasing smile; several of them chuckled good-naturedly. She clapped her hands. "Alright. I'm going to draw topics out of this bag and assign them to each pair in numerical order. First, group one—" She reached into the bag and began rummaging around, pulling out a yellow slip of paper. "Nino, Chloé, you get to research the Meiji Restoration."
"What?" Chloé cried, offended. "Why do I have to do Chinese history? Why can't it be French history?"
"The Meiji Restoration is Japanese history," the teacher corrected. "And just for your information, I've chosen topics of interest from the beginning of recorded history to recent events from across the world. You get what you get, and what you and Nino got is the Meiji Restoration." Ignoring Chloé's rolling eyes, she pulled another slip from the bag. "Group two, you're doing the signing of the American Declaration of Independence. Group three, your topic is...piracy in the Caribbean during the 17th century."
"Yes!" Alya squealed.
"Group four," the teacher said; Marinette perked up attentively, as did Adrien. "Your topic is the Battle of Thermopylae."
"Aww, DUDE!" Nino groaned. "That's so much more awesome than the Meiji Restoration!"
"Hey, samurai are pretty awesome," Alya pointed out.
Nino considered. "Well, okay, yeah, but Chloé's gonna find a way to make 'em suck. Just watch!"
Adrien turned in his seat and smiled at Marinette. "Guess we're gonna be learning a lot about Spartans together."
Marinette barely heard the rest of the teacher's assignments and instructions; the heat that crept up her face refused to fade for the rest of the period.
* * * * *
By the time the school day ended, Marinette had mostly managed to recompose herself. Alya had texted her the details of everything she'd spaced out on: they had two weeks to research the topic, write a detailed report, and create a presentation. The project counted for twenty percent of their grade for the term. That alone had been a much-needed glass of cold water to the face; focusing on the sheer weight of the grade would make it possible for Marinette to work side by side with Adrien.
For two weeks.
Together.
*I'm so doomed.*
During study hall, the students were allowed to go to the library and start working on their projects. Marinette blushed and fumbled her way through getting out materials to draw up a plan as Adrien started gathering books. When he sat down next to her, he heaved a disgusted sigh. "I've probably got better books on Greek history at home," he muttered.
"You, uhh...you like Greek history?" Marinette asked.
"I'm not a fan of it or anything," Adrien said, "but my father wants me to be versed on a wide range of subjects." He rolled his eyes. "I think he expects me to be Bruce Wayne or something," he added with a wry chuckle. "Anyway, this should be an exciting project."
"I'm not even sure what Thermopylae is," Marinette admitted, her cheeks red. "Umm...sorry."
"That's okay," Adrien said with a chuckle. "I've never actually really studied it myself, but I know the basics. Or at least, the part that's most famous. Thermopylae is famous for the three hundred Spartans who managed to keep a huge army out of the pass for...I think it was three days? They were up against thousands of enemy soldiers and they all died in the end, but they went down fighting and gave the rest of the Greek army time to prepare." He looked over the books he'd pulled. "I think that's how it went, anyway. I bet we'll find out a lot more when we start looking through all this mess."
"Wow," Marinette said, blinking. "That sounds like something out of a movie. One little ragtag band of heroes, fighting impossible odds to protect their homes from evil invaders."
Adrien laughed. "It really does! But I think a lot of stories like that are inspired by Thermopylae in the first place. Except usually in fiction the heroes survive and go home. The Spartans, well..." He shrugged. "They didn't get a happy ending." His eyes clouded slightly. "Sometimes, heroes don't get to go home."
They spent the rest of study hall working quietly to sort through the books, setting aside those which contained useful information and returning the rest to the shelves. When school released for the day, they gathered up the books they intended to use and checked them out, then walked out of the library along with the rest of the class.
Adrien lingered awkwardly; Marinette noticed and moved aside as the others went past them. Adrien fidgeted, which made Marinette fidget and duck her head.
Adrien ran a hand through his hair. "So, umm...we'll need to work on this outside of school," he said.
"Y-yeah," Marinette agreed.
Adrien shuffled his feet. "Listen, umm..." He ducked his head. "I was thinking...I was sort of hoping maybe..." He cleared his throat. "Would it be okay if we worked on this at your place?"
Marinette blinked, a faint flush creeping up her cheeks. "M-my place? My house? You, over at house, my, work on, together...?"
"If that's a problem, I totally understand—"
"NO!" Marinette blurted out. She then closed her eyes and trembled, seeming to force herself to calm down. She opened her eyes again and smiled a bit too brightly. "I mean, it's...it's fine. Great! Great. Fine. Working together at my house, I mean. I'm just...surprised." She ducked her head shyly. "I mean, I'm surprised you'd want to..." She looked up. "I mean, why?"
Adrien shifted nervously, scratching at his cheek. "W-well," he said awkwardly, "it's just that..." He blushed. "Remember when we were practicing for that video game competition?"
Marinette nodded, her blush intensifying. "Y-yeah..."
"When I was at your house, I felt..." Adrien shrugged. "Relaxed. Comfortable. Your place is really comfortable. And relaxing." His eyes turned sad. "My house...it's cold, intimidating. It feels more like a museum than a home." He sighed. "I don't...really tell anybody this, but most of the time, when I'm at home, I feel...a little on edge."
"Adrien..." Marinette's eyes filled with shared sadness, shining with unshed tears. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and gave Adrien a genuine smile. "We'll work on our report at my place. Just bring over whatever you think we'll need."
Adrien smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Marinette." He shifted awkwardly, then took out his phone. "Umm...and I guess I probably need your number. And you need mine."
"Huh? O-oh yeah!" Suddenly, the nervous, stuttering, blushing Marinette was back. "Phonbers, because num...phone..." She fumbled her phone out, trying to unlock it from the wrong side and nearly dropping it.
Adrien blinked. "If...if you don't want me to have your number, that's okay, I—"
"No, no, no!" Marinette cried as she sorted out her phone. "S-sorry," she added sheepishly. "I just..." She ducked her head. "Yeah, let's exchange phone numbers."
And they did, though Adrien couldn't quite contain his curious, puzzled look at Marinette the entire time. "Well...okay then," he said. "I have to go to fencing, then I've got a photo shoot, but I'll be in touch later, okay?"
"Okay!" Marinette smiled that too-bright, nervous smile, waving stupidly without moving as Adrien walked off.
A few minutes later, a hand landed on Marinette's shoulder. "Are you gonna be okay?" Alya said quietly into her ear.
"Not even close," Marinette replied, still waving at nothing.
* * * * *
The makeup artist was running half an hour late, and the photographer was throwing a tantrum. Adrien ignored the man's ravings, sitting off to the side and thumbing through one of his library books. He and Marinette had split the load so they could take notes on their own time and compare notes when they got together to work.
"The history of ancient Greece?" a voice Adrien had not expected to hear today said. He whipped his head up to see his father, Gabriel Agreste, approaching, hands clasped behind his back.
"F-Father!" Adrien gasped. He swallowed nervously. "What are you doing here?"
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "My last appointment of the day cancelled on me and I found myself with a half hour opening in my schedule, so I decided to get some fresh air and observe your shoot." He frowned. "What is that photographer complaining about, and why aren't you in makeup yet?"
"Makeup artist is late," Adrien said. "That answers both of your questions."
"Ah." Gabriel frowned. He examined Adrien's book. "Is this for school?"
"Yes," Adrien said. "Actually, I'm glad you're here, because I need to talk to you about that."
"Oh?"
Adrien braced himself and looked up at his father. "I've been assigned a major project for history class," he said. "The entire class is working in pairs. This project is twenty percent of our grade for this term." He frowned. "I know what my schedule is normally like, and it's not really fair to put my classmate's grade at risk because I'm not able to pull my weight on the research and writing. I need to do my fair share of the work."
Gabriel nodded absently. "And your project is on ancient Greece?"
"The Battle of Thermopylae."
Gabriel's eyes almost—almost—showed emotion. "A very interesting and challenging subject," he said.
"Right," Adrien said. "So anyway, I was thinking...it isn't really fair to make Marinette do more than her share of the work because of my schedule. We have two weeks to work on this project on top of all our other homework." He swallowed nervously. "Do you think...maybe..." He looked up, forcing himself to meet his father's implacable gaze. "I mean, it's only fair that I have time to work on the project with my partner, right?"
Gabriel regarded him sternly. "Your schedule is important, Adrien. Very important."
"So is twenty percent of my grade. And Marinette's," Adrien said in a faintly challenging tone. "You remember Marinette, right? She made the bowler hat with the pigeon feather."
"Ah, yes, that girl," Gabriel said, nodding. He withdrew his tablet from his jacket and scrolled through it, his eyes and the tightness of his forehead intense. His nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply. "Very well. I will have Nathalie adjust your schedule for the next two weeks. You will still have photo shoots on the weekends, but you will have time to work on your school project."
Adrien let out a shaky, relieved breath. "Thank you, Father."
Gabriel nodded curtly, then checked his watch. "I have other business to attend to," he said, turning away. He paused briefly. "Adrien," he said over his shoulder, "I expect you to achieve perfect marks on this project."
With that, he walked away.
Before Adrien could think too much about what had just happened, a breathless makeup artist rushed up to him and started hurriedly and haphazardly preparing him for the shoot, with the photographer screaming in her ear the entire time.
* * * * *
Marinette scurried around her room, taking down every piece of Adrien memorabilia—all the pictures, magazine covers, the chart of his schedule, the sweaty towel she sniffed every morning.
"Where'd you even get one of his sweaty towels?" Tikki asked as that last thing was shoved under Marinette's bed.
"I don't tell you everything," Marinette sang. She scrambled over to her computer and changed the desktop background, then flumped down in her chair and started spinning. "Adrien's coming here," she sighed dreamily.
Tikki giggled. "Do you think you'll be able to concentrate on the project?"
"S-sure! Yeah! Of course! I mean, it's a huge chunk of my grade! And his!" Marinette's eyes widened. "Oh my god, Adrien's counting on me not to tank his grade in history! And...but...what if..." She started to hyperventilate.
"Calm down, Marinette," Tikki said. "You've got two weeks, remember? Besides, Thermopylae isn't all that hard a subject. It's mostly just getting past the myth that the entire battle was just the three hundred Spartans against a million Persians. King Leonidas actually had a force of about fifteen hundred men in the rear guard. It's just that the Spartans were the ones that—"
Marinette sprang up and grabbed Tikki from the air, staring at her with wide eyes. "You were there?!"
Tikki phased through her hands and hovered just out of reach. "At Thermopylae? No, but I know a lot about it."
"Oh my god that's awesome, you can help out so much!"
"Sorry, Marinette, but this is a research project. You and Adrien have to show your sources, remember?" Tikki gave Marinette an apologetic smile. "Besides, how would you ever explain to Adrien how you suddenly know so much about Thermopylae?"
Marinette slumped with a heavy sigh. "No fair," she whined.
"How about this? When you go through your notes, I can give you hints on which sources are more accurate and which ones you can ignore!"
Marinette smiled. "Thanks, Tikki. That'll be a big help."
* * * * *
"You were there?!" Adrien exclaimed.
Plagg nodded. "I was there. Your Miraculous belonged to Ephialtes at the time."
Adrien blinked. "Wait. Isn't that—"
"Yeah, the same Ephialtes who betrayed the Greeks and told the Persians how to get around the pass." Plagg sniffed at a chunk of Camembert.
"But...that means you helped a traitor who got a lot of his countrymen killed," Adrien said with a sick grimace.
Plagg idly flicked an ear. "Yeah, Ephialtes was an idiot," he said. "Not every Miraculous wielder is worthy. We've been around for thousands of years. There isn't a single Kwami that hasn't had to put up with a turd or two." He shrugged. "Anyway, he was killed ten years later, Athenades stole the Miraculous off his corpse, then some other stuff happened and that was that."
"What do you mean 'that was that'?" Adrien demanded. "Come on, you can't just leave it like that!"
"It's got nothing to do with your report, right? You can't exactly claim to have an eyewitness to the battle in your pocket." Plagg swallowed his cheese whole. "Plus, you'd have to explain anything I tell you to Marinette when it probably isn't in any of your books."
"Well...! I mean, yeah, obviously I can't get you to help with the report, but I mean the stuff that happened after!"
Plagg snorted and flipped upside down in the air. "Telling you my life story would take longer than you and your grandchildren will live," he said lazily. "Maybe I'll share a little more when you don't have a project to work on with your girlfriend."
"G-girlfriend?" Adrien spluttered, his cheeks red. "She's not—"
Plagg grinned cheekily, opening one eye. "But she's very cute, no?"
"W-well...she is that," Adrien admitted, ducking his head sheepishly and smiling.
"So why aren't you over there right now?"
"Because I'm exhausted," Adrien groaned. "And I've got other homework to do tonight anyway." He pulled out his phone. "I should at least call her."
* * * * *
Chloé snarled, scowled, and fumed at the boy sitting at HER table, in HER suite, in HER daddy's hotel.
"Aren't you ever going to leave?" she sneered.
Nino glared up at her from his open notebook. "Yes, at 20:00, so I can get home for dinner," he said. "Until then, we're working on this project. And by that I mean we, not just me, so you'd better start opening some books!"
Chloé snorted. "I have better things to do with my valuable time than sit around doing stupid work," she informed him.
Nino groaned and checked the time.
It was 18:30.
He'd been at Le Grand Paris since 17:45.
It felt longer.
After school, he'd chased Chloé down, only to watch her drive away in the back of a car her father sent for her. He'd made his way to Le Grand Paris, only to run afoul of an obstructive doorman. Talking his way past the doorman had taken cunning, threats, and an actual call to Mayor Bourgeois to explain the situation, after which the mayor had conceded that twenty percent of his daughter's grade was not a trivial matter. Nino was allowed into the hotel and escorted to Chloé's suite, where Mayor Bourgeois himself was waiting, and the mayor cajoled his bratty daughter into begrudgingly accepting that Nino would be coming over after school each day to work on their project.
He'd somehow neglected to mention that Chloé was expected to do her share of the work, making it sound as though Nino would be doing the whole thing himself. Nino was determined to disabuse Chloé of that notion.
"Hey, you think I'm any happier with this than you are?!" Chloé snapped. "While I'm forced to put up with sitting here staring at your stupid face, Sabrina's doing that weird girl's work instead of mine, and my Adrikins has to put up with that Marinette!"
Nino glared at her. "Rule one," he said. "You badmouth my friend Marinette in front of me, I walk out of here, I do the project on my own, and I tell everyone, including your father, you refused to do anything. Good luck not failing history."
Chloé gave an offended gasp, placing a hand to her chest. "You wouldn't dare! I can make your life miserable in so many ways—"
"You already make my life miserable just by existing," Nino said. "But right now, I just want to get this project done. Or did you miss the part where it's twenty percent of our grade? How do you think your daddy will take you failing history?"
Chloé stared at Nino. Nino stared back.
Chloé let out an aggravated sigh, grabbed the nearest book, and started flipping through it.
* * * * *
Marinette's phone rang. As soon as she identified the caller as Adrien, her heart skipped a beat. "Oh God it's him," she moaned.
"Steady, Marinette," Tikki said. "He's just a boy, you're a girl, and more importantly, you're Ladybug. You can do this!"
"R-right." Steeling herself, Marinette answered. "H-hi, Adrien!"
"Hey, Marinette," Adrien's weary-sounding voice said from the other end. "Just wanted to touch base. Sorry I haven't come over to work on the project tonight. Just had a really exhausting photo shoot and I am wiped. We'll have to start tomorrow, okay?"
"S-sure, tomorrow's great!" Marinette said.
"Great," Adrien said. "Oh! I've got some good news. My father agreed to clear my schedule except for weekend photo shoots for the next two weeks so we can work on the project every day."
Marinette gasped, her eyes wide and her cheeks red. "E-every day? That's...w-wow..."
"Well, yeah, I mean, we wanna get the best grade we can, right?" She could hear his smile over the phone and it melted her insides like a popsicle in the sun.
"Of course! Best grade, because it's twenty percent of our grade," Marinette said with a nervous, high-pitched giggle.
Adrien must have mistaken it for nerves about the grade, fortunately, because his next reply was in a confident, soothing tone. "Hey, you're smart and creative, I'm pretty good at doing research, between the two of us, we've got this. No problem!"
"Right," Marinette said. "I can't wait to get to work." She paused. "So, umm...your photo shoot was pretty bad today, huh?"
Adrien groaned. "It was a disaster. Imagine the prissiest, most uptight, most stereotypically gay photographer in France getting in a screaming slap fight with a makeup artist who snapped after he screamed at her for twenty minutes."
Marinette blinked. "Umm...wow?"
"It gets worse, they started throwing makeup at each other until they both looked like deranged mimes. The only way it could've been more surreal is if Ladybug and Chat Noir had to break it up instead of my bodyguard."
Marinette's eyes widened. "Yikes. Wait, this wasn't the spaghetti guy, was it?"
"Huh? Oh, no, this was a different guy. I've only worked with him twice. German, wears spandex so tight it makes me a little uncomfortable to be around him, has this weird leather scarf, I mean, who wears a leather scarf?"
Marinette couldn't fight the giggle that escaped her. "Oh my God, he sounds like a lunatic!"
"He totally is," Adrien said. He cracked a yawn. "Well, I've got homework, then I seriously need to get some sleep. See you tomorrow!"
"Yeah, tomorrow," Marinette said. It took her almost a full minute to realize he had hung up.
"Wow," Tikki said. "You just had a whole conversation with Adrien! I'm impressed!"
Marinette fainted, a goofy smile on her face.
Tikki sighed, shaking her head with a giggle. "It's a start."
À SUIVRE...
Miraculous Ladybug is the intellectual property of Zagtoon, Method Animation, Toei Animation, and Thomas ASTRUC. This intellectual property is used without permission with no intent to profit from said use. The unique content contained on this page is the property of Mythril Moth, and redistribution of this content without express permission is strongly discouraged.