Chapter Text
Waking up after a night full of partying with the god of wine was a literal headache. Groaning slightly as he pulled himself up into a sit on the edge of his bed, Adrien clutched the offending part of his body. He should know better, but really - how could one refuse a party like that? It afforded too many good opportunities. Like free wine. A sly smirk curled one corner of his lips despite the thumping of his brain. It had been a good night.
Cracking open an eye, he winced at the offending sunrise. It was too early to be awake but awake he was. Slipping on his robe, he stumbled to his feet and made his way to the shower, hoping the warm water would ease the ache.
“Fun night?” snickered a little black cat-like creature that floated just out of range as Adrien stood in the rush of water that didn’t do much for the ache in his head. Especially with the taunting from his ever present companion. With a small snarl, Adrien cupped a handful of water and threw it at the cat, who dodged with a cackle.
“What’s in the plans for today, Plagg?” Stepping out of the shower, Adrien’s voice was muffled slightly by a towel covering his head as he dried off his blond locks. “Should we go see how the rest of them are doing after the party last night?” He smirked, knowing full-well that the majority of the immortals would likely be strewn all over the place in various states of disarray from their all-night revelry. A perfect opportunity to cause some mischief. It was his job designation after all.
Adrien, God of Mischief.
He took pride in it.
Dressed in a casual robe for comfort, he plodded his way to the pantry and pulled out some food. For all his immortality, he still needed to eat. Or at the very least, attempt to fill the stomach of Plagg, his animal spirit. One of the perks of trickery was his ability to transform himself into a black cat. His cat form could cause so much more trouble than his human-like one.
Throwing a chunk of cheese at Plagg, Adrien grabbed himself some coffee to try and counteract the effects of the night before. He sat in silence for a while, watching as the sunrise strew a golden glow over the mountain valley that stretched behind his small wooden hut.
Some gods liked big and flashy, but Adrien preferred simplicity and a clear view of nature. It wasn’t like he spent much time at home anyway, simply returning when he felt tired or needed to hide after a prank sparked some level of anger.
Coffee gone along with much of the thumping of his brain, he turned to Plagg. “Shall we?” The little being nodded.
Throwing open the door to pay a visit to the rest of his merrymaking friends, he nearly tripped over an unexpected bundle of white silky fabric on the step. It was likely his startled yelp that roused whatever was hidden within. Slowly, a shape formed from the silk - a young woman - her face appearing in an opening, with a hood around her head. She sat humbly on her knees, rubbing eyes that had been closed in a deep sleep, not even a moment before.
Adrien froze, unsure where this woman had come from, and why she was sleeping on the ground in front of his door.
Her eyes were a startling shade of blue. That was all he could think as she opened them to gaze up at him before taking a moment to look at his house and the rest of their surroundings.
“Where am I?” she whispered, looking slightly confused. Pushing back her white hood revealed dark hair tumbling over her shoulders and a clearer look at her face - splattered softly with freckles. A soft blush tinted her cheeks, likely in response to his unmasked scrutiny.
“Are you my husband now?” Her voice was shy, the blush deepening. Adrien blinked in surprise. Husband? Who was this girl? He glanced over at Plagg, floating beside his shoulder. The cat just shrugged then grinned. A grin that Adrien returned with a sudden thrill of excitement that all his tricks gave him.
“Oh yes…. Today is Bride Day, isn’t it, Plagg?” He could barely contain the glee at the thought of how his father would react to this.
“Yes, yes it is,” purred Plagg.
Stretching out his hand, Adrien reached for his new “wife.” She blushed again, gently placing her hand in his and letting him help her to stand before he led her into this home and closed the door quietly behind them. The grin didn’t leave his face. No need to draw unwanted attention just yet.
Marinette looked around the humble house with a combination of confusion and surprise. It didn’t seem like the home of a ferocious and deadly being like the Fire God. Then again, the man she had opened her eyes this morning didn’t fit her expectations either. Not imposing or scary as she’d long imagined the god to be.
Admittedly, the brilliant sunrise that lit him from behind when she’d first seen him had made him look like he’d been on fire - a silhouette of fiery gold. Still, she was thankful that instead of an angry, dangerous old man, she had discovered a breathtakingly handsome man with golden hair and eyes as green as the leaves.
She wasn’t quite sure how she had arrived at the doorstep of the Fire God.
The day before had been one of ceremony and ritual all blurring together. Her mother’s face, soft grey eyes trying not to cry. Her father’s arms pulling her close, his thunderous voice claiming pride in her. Hands of the elder women dressing her in an elaborate white robe, smoothing out her hair, their voices offering soothing advice to a young woman who had no idea what to expect.
Night fell as the village danced around the central fire, drunk on rice wine and the pulse of the beating drums. She’d been forced to drink a strange red liquid that had burned her throat and made her cough, leaving her unsteady and dizzy. She’d been pushed into a special chair, pillowed high with colourful cushions, while a priestess called to the gods in a sing-song voice and arms raised.
Kagami and her mother had stood at the edge of the frenzied crowd. The older woman had stood proudly straight and determined while Kagami herself had hidden her face in shame.
The night had dragged on, the dancing figures and sounds of celebration merging in front of Marinette’s eyes as whatever potion they had poured into her took effect. Colours swirled in a way that both made her wonder and made her nauseous at the same time. She wasn’t sure how long it had lasted.
In the past, Bride Days were usually over by midnight - the village fire blossoming into an inferno at the darkest part of the night before the wind of the Messenger would whisk the new bride away to the Fire God. But her sacrifice had taken longer. Maybe the Fire God was rejecting her for taking Kagami’s place.
The people of the village started to stumble over one another, exhausted by the long night of dancing and celebration, worries of a rejected sacrifice itching at their addled consciousness. Marinette couldn’t move, her body heavy with the effects of the ceremonial liquid.
The promise of sunrise has teased on the horizon when the wind suddenly picked up and the fire exploded into a wild flame. Her heart had stuttered in a moment of panic before she suddenly felt herself scooped up from the chair. Wind whistled through her ears, fluttering against the silk of her dress, and the village disappeared out of sight.
From there, it was a blur - the sensation of moving in both slow motion and double time all at once. She couldn’t keep her thoughts straight, couldn’t keep her eyes open. Her eyes had closed, body cradled in the arms of what she assumed was the Messenger.
When the motion had stopped, there had been some loud laughing and lurching from the person holding her before she found herself on the cold ground.
The next thing she knew she was looking up at this man, his eyes wide with surprise, with a small floating black cat beside his shoulder. A man who was now her husband.
She still felt a little dazed, her white gown heavy, her feelings swirling. She was thankful that her village and family would be safe from the wrath of the angry Fire God but worried about what to do now to bring honour to her family.
She clasped her hands together in front of her, meekly bowing her head. “What would you have me do, husband?”
The sound of his sudden outburst of laughter was enough to make her snap her head up to stare at him. He all but glowed while he laughed, head thrown back with his eyes closed. When he opened them again, they danced. All she could do was offer him a timid smile in return.
“Come,” he said, walking through the small house towards the bedroom. She panicked for a moment, swallowing loudly, eyes wide, afraid to follow. He just laughed again when he realized her worry. He took a step back towards her, placing his hand on her cheek, with a soft smile. “Not THAT. I just wanted to find you something else to wear. Unless a bridal robe is what you would prefer?”
His eyebrow twitched with amusement. Her cheeks were on fire, embarrassment and shock at his gentle touch on her face mingling together.
“No, husband. Thank you.”
She followed behind him this time, keeping her head low while her feet struggled to stay off the hem of her dress. Angry thoughts of how impractical bridal gowns were despite how beautiful they are filled her head.
“What is your name?” he called from the bedroom as she stepped into the doorway. Her feet failed her, taking purchase on her dress and sending her stumbling forward with a soft cry. She thrust her arms out in front of her - hoping to catch herself before her face hit the ground. Instead, he was there, catching her mid-fall. Her face pressed against his chest instead of the floor. She blinked for a moment before hastily pulling backwards in a flustered flailing of arms. He chuckled, eyes twinkling.
He refused to let go of her hand this time, pulling her to his bed and ordering her to sit before vanishing through another door. She took the opportunity to look around - not that there was much to see. The room was startlingly bare with only a single large bed and a small table. The walls had no decorations or ornamentation. A window took up most of the wall across from the bed - revealing a breathtaking view of mountains and sky.
She could hear his voice on the other side of the wall, muffled enough that she couldn’t make out what he was saying. The laugh that followed made her smile a little.
Her whole life, the teachings of the village had spoken of the Fire God with a slight sense of terror for the anger that he threatened to incur on them if they didn’t do what he said: a bridal sacrifice every spring, never letting his fire go out in the middle of the village, giving him the first of the harvest. She had been scared of what waited for her as his newly acquired bride, but this - a smiling, laughing, handsome young man - this was not what she had expected.
There was a small thump on the wall that made her jump slightly before he appeared in the doorway with a sheepish grin and an armful of material.
“Ok, so…. I found a robe that might fit you for now. I’ll find you better clothes soon. I suspect that you might want to freshen up after a night sleeping on my step. The room next to this has a shower and whatever else you might need.” He shoved the clothes into her hands. Pausing, he just stared at her for a moment.
“Do you need help?”
Marinette sat frozen, startled by his question. Her white bridal robe was a complicated design, one that had required several hands several hours to wrap it around her body. In truth, she hadn't thought much about how she was going to get it off. A crimson flush tore across her face when she nodded, eyes unable to meet his. She dropped the new robe onto the bed as he took her hand and pulled her to stand in the middle of the room.
Her dress was beautiful, he had to admit as he admired the way that it was wrapped and pulled around her. Carefully, he began to pull at the wrappings around her dress, trying to loosen one of the ends to start pulling her free. It was a tedious and slow process, one that they did in complete and awkward silence.
Adrien’s mind raced with the implications of being so close to what should be one of his father’s wives at the same time as trying not to think of the fact that he was literally unwrapping said beautiful young woman from her clothing in his bedroom. A young woman who thought he was her husband. That line of thinking could get dangerous. Enjoyable, but dangerous.
Plagg sat quietly on the table by the bed, watching him closely - making Adrien even more aware of his actions. Finally, the last of the ties came undone, tumbling to the ground at the woman’s feet. She wiggled her way out of the last of the decorated robes, standing in front of him with a flushed face in a simple white undertunic.
“Thank you,” she whispered, eyes on the floor. She was even more petite than he’d thought, and he had an unbidden thought of wanting to run his fingers over her skin to see if she was as soft as she looked. A quick shake of his head brought him clarity.
“I’ve got an errand to run. I’ll be back soon.” His voice was shockingly gruff. With that, he bolted, the little blur of black following behind him. When the slammed the house door behind him, he leaned back against it for a moment. What the hell was wrong with him?
Plagg just leered knowingly at his shoulder.
“Shut up,” Adrien growled, flicking at the cat. “Let’s go cause some trouble.”
His speedy disappearance left Marinette startled. Gathering all the pieces of her bridal wear, she gently and carefully laid them all out on the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles. Silently, she made her way to where he’d said the bathroom was. It was small and simple - more for practicality than design. The water, however, was warm and cleansing. Shucking her undertunic, she stepped in and washed the craziness of the last 24 hours away.