"The greatest love comes from those with the biggest hearts, and the biggest hearts belong to those who love as if they have nothing to lose."

— Forbidden Love

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Chat Noir remained stilled; conflicted—torn between the reality of Marinette's condition and with his own personal faults. It dawned on him that all of this mess probably could have been avoided, had he been sterner and more protective. He watched her torn expression, eyes wide as he tried to gather his thoughts together and formulate the right words that she needed to hear. Words of encouragement; words of assurance; words that hopefully could comfort her in such a dire situation. But he found himself unable to speak his thoughts. It was difficult, to say the least. What do you tell the woman you love so dearly after she confirms she is pregnant with another man's child?

It hurt—because he knew it wasn't his own (and he had no right to even assume that they would ever have children together) but he also knew that it would never be Marinette's fault. She was forced into an act that she never wanted to participate in. In fact, if anyone was to take the blame for such a horrible situation, it should have been him.

He should have been more observant; should have sent his guards to kill those men the moment they stepped into the forbidden forest. If Chat Noir had done things differently, Sir Nathaniel would've never been able to kidnap Marinette to begin with. If he had done things differently, Marinette would not have been taken advantage of and used for someone else's pleasure. Had he done things differently, Chat Noir would not be stuck in this bed, possibly paralyzed for the rest of his life!

But then again, what was the use of dwelling over the past? Things could not be changed, no matter how hard he wished for it.

Not everything ends like a fairytale, he supposed.

Even if his life literally revolved around magic.

And just like magic, Marinette had managed to slip away unnoticed before he could even respond to her confession. He supposed that he had stayed silent for too long, leaving his love to grow frightened; discouraged; disappointed; and scurry away, anticipating that she would hear something negative leave his lips. But he would never! Never would he shame her for her predicament! Chat Noir wanted to be as supportive as possible, but how could he do so if he was restricted to his bed?

Not physically able to rush after her, Chat Noir silently prayed that she would return. He waited, in which he assumed were a few hours (because he had no way of telling the time), before someone else entered into his cottage. His hopes lifted, turning to the sound, but when his father emerged through the door and not his love, his expression fell.

His father seemed to notice this. "You are awake."

Chat Noir watched closely as his father stepped carefully into the room. "How long have I been asleep?"

"A few days at most." The king replies, his expression downcast and saddened. "I would not accurately know, considering miss Marinette has been the one caring for you since your collapse."

Of course, Chat Noir would not expect anything less. He had awoken with Marinette at his side and his father had been nowhere to be seen. Typical.

Even at his deathbed, his father was absent.

Chat Noir furrowed his brows. "Of course. Why should I expect anything less? You were not there when your wife laid in her deathbed, and you were not here when your son laid in his."

It was a low blow, and Chat Noir knew such words were painful to his father's heart, but he did not care in that moment. When would the king learn to put his family first, instead of only caring about who would rule after him in a world that wasn't even worth living in?

The king's expression darkened. "You watch what you say to me, boy. You have no idea of what events unfolded during your mother's death sentence. I did everything I could to keep her alive."

"Apparently, you did not do enough." Chat Noir growled in return. Instinctively, his eyes reared to his father's staff — something the king had proclaimed that wielded magical powers and that could fix all things that were broken. Funny how his father never seemed to use it. "You have so much power in your hands, and yet you never use it. Why is it that I still lay here unmoving before your presence? Could you not heal me now?"

There was a deafening pause — a long silence that stretched far too long. When his father effused to respond, Chat Noir pressed forward. "Or would you rather let me die like mother?"

"Enough!" The king's voice suddenly bellowed; a tone that would have set anyone else in their place. But not Chat. Oh no, Chat Noir had long ago stopped fearing his father's voice. "You may think that my staff is a gift... but I can assure you, everything comes with its price. If magic did not come with its consequences, boy, everyone would want it; everyone would use it; everyone would worship it. There is a reason why we suffer so much. I stopped using my staff when I realized that it caused us more pain than it did joy."

It was a story his father continued to repeat like a broken record but refused to explain. There were so many questions in need of answers, and Chat Noir was tired of being left in the dark.

Chat Noir rolled his eyes. "Bullshit—"

"I did not come here to argue." The king interjected before his son could even dare put in another thought. Chat Noir grimaced slightly at his father's interruption, attempting to dig deeper into why his father was so hesitant to use the magic he had been blessed with as a young ruler. "I have only come to inform you that once you are healed, we will begin your inauguration. And you may marry miss Marinette, as you wish."

Eyes now blown wide, the feline restricted to his bed shot his father a look of unbelief. Chat Noir couldn't believe what he was hearing; was his father serious? Here his son lay, almost succumbed to death, and the king was not even concerned for the present time of his son's health. "Do you not see?" He asked, his voice higher than he intended it to be. But suddenly, Chat Noir felt almost vulnerable in front of his father. "I will not be able to rule after you, father, and I certainly will not be able to marry Marinette. My life as I once knew it is ruined."

"What on earth are you talking about?" His father asked, perplexed. "Of course, you will rule after me, whether you like it or not. Do not test my authority. You should be grateful I am even allowing you to marry someone of your own choice."

"I cannot believe that you do not know," Chat Noir chuckled dryly, eyeing his father in a disbelieved look. "Did Marinette not inform you?"

"Inform me of what?" The king raised a solemn brow.

"Were you not informed that your son would now remain paralyzed from his shoulders down for the rest of his days?" Chat Noir almost spat out, his disgust for his father even greater when he realized how oblivious the king truly was to the situation. He felt hot tears stain his cheeks as he eyed the man whom he called his father, and Chat Noir would no longer be ashamed for letting himself be weak before the man. Damn, him. Damn this man whom he called his father. "I am basically no longer good for anything; here to remain for the rest of my life. How can I possibly be a king? How can I possibly lead our people? How could I possibly be a good enough husband for Marinette when I cannot even walk? I cannot even provide for her like a husband should provide for his wife... I cannot even care for her, father. If anything, she would be obligated to care for me, and I do not wish to become a burden upon her life like such."

"Marinette is a free spirit, father. She has dreams; she has goals, and most importantly she has taught me that my life should be lived by my own standards. She has taught me what it is like to truly live, to chase those dreams and make them a reality. I cannot possibly expect her to stay with me after what has happened... I could not bear to tie her down to such a fate when all her life she has been trying to escape the bounds of her family. Imagine what kind of a man I would be if I demanded she stay by my side... I would not be any better than the other men of this world."

The king remained silent — broken between the reality of his son never being able to walk again, and his son's vivid description of his true love. Perhaps, his son could be selfish just this once. It was clear as the sun in the sky that Chat Noir loved Marinette with all of his heart and would have sacrificed his happiness a million times over to keep her happy. It reminded the king of his days when he was once married to the woman he had eventually learned to fall in love with, only to have her taken from him when he longed for her the most. Maybe once the king's marriage had been arranged, and maybe once he had not loved his wife like a man should have, but he learned to love the woman of his child with all of his heart — a type of love he now saw in his son's eyes.

"I...I did not know of this," the king murmured, his voice barely audible. Uncertainty clouded his features as he stared down at his son, silently praying that he had heard wrong when he then asked, "Are you certain that you will never walk again?"

Chat Noir nodded slowly, his eyes guilty averting away from his father's. "Yes father."

And suddenly, the king felt torn once again between the safety of his son, and the safety of his people. He had once again failed someone he loved — not only his wife, but now his only son. The king looked down at the staff in his palm, it's power something he had once vowed to never use again. But now, determined as ever, the king would not make the same mistake twice.

"Father?" It was then that Chat Noir noticed his father's intense stare at his staff. "Are you alright?"

The king slowly nodded, refusing to meet his son's gaze quite yet. He inspected the staff in his palm, twisting it in his fingertips and watching as it shimmered in response, it's magic practically begging to be used. It was said that it did lure in the weak with its power so that it could consume those whom it tricked and haunt them with its consequences. The king knew this and had forbidden it once he had discovered the reality of withholding such a power in one's grasp. That controlling such a power came with consequences. Consequences that could not be anticipated or chosen.

But today, the king was willing to take the risk. To sacrifice whatever the staff desired for the sake of his son. He would do it, no questions asked, and he would rejoice gladfully once his son could stand on his feet once again.

Chat Noir cleared his throat unsurely, drawing his father's attention once again. "Well... if you are alright... I was hoping that since you are here, you might be able to fetch Marinette for me. She sort of left abruptly, and we were discussing something of quite importance. I am worried for her."

The king nodded slowly. "Indeed. I shall fetch her for you. In the meantime, I will send in the maids to dress you for a descendent of the wing ritual."

"Descendent of the Wing?" Chat Noir's eyebrows rose far up his head, bewildered by his father's words. "That is a healing ritual, father... one you have not preformed since... since..."

Since his mother had passed. But he could not seem to say it. It had been so many years ago—Chat Noir had only been just a lad—when his father had performed it last. On a human out of all creatures, had stumbled into their world many years ago, injured from a battle and seeking help from fellow warriors. Unfortunately, he had stumbled upon their civilization instead. Filled with compassion and longing to grant his wife's wishes of peace, the king agreed to perform a 'Decedent of the Wing' ritual—a ritual that granted any healing proprieties to any injured body, mind and soul.

However, all use of magic comes with consequences. And the expense of his wife seemed to be what the staff had once desired.

"Since before your mother passed, yes." The king nodded slowly, "I shall perform it once again on you."

He wondered what it would desire next, once the ritual was to be complete.

"No..." Chat Noir whispered, his eyes filled with concern as he watched his father's expression darken. "No, you cannot. I forbid it! At to what expense, father? You yourself have warned me that the use of magic comes with consequences... and you wish to use it now? What will happen when the consequence becomes too great?"

"That is a risk I must take." The king argued.

"No!" The blonde retorted, wishing he could stand to prevent his father from walking out that door and attempting to dawn the use of magic once more. "What I said earlier... about you not wanting to save mother with your staff... I did not mean it. I do truly understand that something bad will happen once I am healed, and I am afraid that the damage will be too severe. Please father, reconsider. My happiness is not worth the entire village."

But the king begged to differ. He could not remember a time when his son had been this happy, and if he had a way to bring back that happiness, he intended to do just that. "This is a choice I have made. Prepare for the maids to enter; I will fetch Marinette for you, and then we shall begin the ceremony."

The king turned his back to his son without another word. But unlike those times in the past when he had turned with disappointment, he now turned with purpose; determination; fulfillment that for once, he would put his family before his people. Even as Chat Noir shouted and pleaded for him to reconsider, the king strode forward without a glance over his shoulder and exited the hut, a new and intended purpose in mind.

He would heal his son, no matter what the cause.

And he would find Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

He found Marinette by the river his wife had once taken their son to as a young child. It had been a place that seemed to bring peace to her mind, the valleys outstretching as meadows with mountains out in the distance, and the stream there to flow beautifully down the rolling hills. Marinette was seated in the tall grass with her knees pulled up to her chest, and as the king slowly approached her side, he noticed the dandelion she idly filled with in between her thumb and index finger, mindlessly watching as the gentle breeze brushed away a few of its peddles.

The king remained standing as he watched her, clearing his throat to catch her attention. "My son is asking for you, dear."

She seemed to already feel his presence, for she did not bother to look up as she replied, "I am sure that is the last thing he really wants right now. Only the gods know how ashamed I must feel."

"Ashamed?" The king asked softly. "Heavens, no. Why would you feel such a way?"

"Some things have happened that I wish would have never occurred... some things I wish I could redo and take back..." she tries to explain without an explanation, and the king doesn't dare pry any deeper into it. "My mistakes have hurt Chat Noir, and I just do not see how I could possibly still stand by his side with such a... a burden along the way."

The king simply rose a brow, his lips cut into a straight line. "I have absolutely no idea what you mean by such a phrase my dear, but I can assure you, my son is far from not wanting you at his side. You should have heard the way he spoke so highly of you only moments ago."

To this, Marinette lifted her head, a somewhat hopeful look in her eyes. "He was speaking highly of me?"

"Oh yes," The king nodded. "He wants nothing more than to be by your side."

The ravenette rose a confused brow. "I do not understand. Prior to our conversation—"

"Only the gods can tell what your conversation was about." The king interrupted, leaning forward to offer her a hand. Hesitantly, she turned to meet his gaze and took it, and the king gently pulled the young woman to her feet. "All I ask is that you return to his side. He specifically asked that I fetch you for him, and I would like you to have your final moments with him before I perform the descendent of the wing ritual."

"The Descendent of the Wing ritual?" Marinette folded her arms over her chest protectively, eyeing the king somewhat skeptically. "What in the bloody name is that? And why would you perform such a thing on Chat Noir?"

The king rolled his eyes. "To heal him, of course."

"Heal?" Her eyes suddenly lit up with the hope that Chat Noir could be cured from all paralysis, which brought such an immense joy to her soul. "You can heal him?"

The king had simply nodded, to which the young girl had smiled widely to. He watched as she gathered herself and thanked him in a rush, quickly bounding off as quickly as she could back to Chat Noir's hut. But as the king watched her retreat, his expression fell yet once again.

Yes, he could heal his son.

But to what expense?

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HEY everyone! I have an announcement to make!

"Forbidden love" has reached #1 under the tag 'Miraculous Ladybug'! I was so shocked when I first saw it, and although these ratings are constantly changing, it wouldn't have been possible to reach without all of you fabulous people. So, thank you SO very MUCH for helping me achieve such a goal!

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