A/N: Hey guys, I'm back with another fanfiction! Why? Well the only real reason was because I was recently learning about the French Revolution in my history class and I thought it was so "intriguing" that I wanted to make a story on it. The only connections I could make with that is Miraculous Ladybug, so here I am! I made the rating into T for some minor gore and vampire sin or something. I don't know yet. ;)

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MPOV:

Darkness. Dreary...so dreary. The drafty castle I live in seemed to swallow up anything remotely happy or cheerful, but I guess, if you had to choose between living with bloodthirsty Frenchman who want your head or live in a rickety old castle, you would choose the latter. The wind swirled my hair menacingly, slicing my cheek with its bitter touch. I shivered, pulling my arms around me, my bare shoulders shaking as I froze.

I was out on the terrace of the castle, staring out into the doomed city of Paris. Revolutions had broke out. Famine, pain, and suffering increased in the common peasants who lived there. The weak king and unpopular queen have just recently been executed with the terrible killing machine they call the "guillotine." I shook my head in bewilderment. What would become of Paris now?

The dark gray clouds parted revealing a faded crescent moon. I looked up toward it, hopefully. But for what exactly? I had no idea. Every person's wish in France right now is for the executions of many innocent lives to end. A new era shall appear, an era in which there will be no peasants and no nobles, a place where everybody is free and equal. I await for that day to come, although I doubt it will happen when I'm still alive.

Tears came sloshing down my face as I remembered the day when my own parents were brought to be executed. Getting an order wrong for a certain noble family...

We were in my family's bakery. My parents were stacked up with orders and supplies were running scarce. A haughty looking woman with high cheekbones walked in through the front door, her muted white blonde hair swept up in an elegant updo. Behind her, a girl with honey blonde hair done in a classic French braid around my age stomped in grumpily after her. Both were wearing fine clothing, silk probably imported from China. The Bourgeois family.

I can still remember Chloé, the daughter of André and Audrey Bourgeois. I remember her piercing sky blue eyes staring right into my bluebell ones. She made life hard for me before, picking on me, teasing me. The first time I met her, I wanted to be her friend. She always dressed très chic, easily making friends with anyone she pleases, having boy admirers fall down at her every will. I learned from my mother that night that peasants and nobles do not mix. She warned me that if I were to make friends with Chloé Bourgeois, I would be heading for a mass of hurt and shame. Then again I was an ignorant teen back then, and I ignored my mother to try to make friends with this noble girl.

One of the most stupid mistake of my life. I came in her presence, brushing off the dirt that always seemed to be getting on my skirts. My dark hair was messy, so I hastily combed through it with my fingers, knotting it into a thick braid that fell just beneath my shoulders. As I strode over to introduce myself, I tripped on a stray rock lying in the middle of the pathway. I fell down, ripping part of my skirts in the process and scraping my knees. She and her noble friend...or more like servant...Sabrina gasped at my haggard appearance and my clumsy fall. They burst out laughing.

Chloé walked to me hands on hips. "Just what do you think you're doing here, peasant?" She kicked dirt in my face, laughing at me, mocking me. I opened my mouth to speak but her smirk made me close it. I walked home with a numb feeling in my stomach, surprisingly this time, it wasn't because of the fact that I was always hungry.

Anyway...the bakery. I avoided eye contact with Chloé as much as possible, pretending I was busy cleaning out our clay stove, or kneading the dough. I saw her walking in dainty steps over to the flour sacks and knocking one down. "Oh my!", cried my mother as she rushed to clean and salvage what was the rest of the flour. That sneaky little bastard...I thought to myself. She didn't even apologize. Her mother was suspiciously inspecting our bread, I guess to see if it was top quality or whatnot. I could hear her hurrumphs and see her disapproving looks. Finally, she paused her inspecting to speak with Papa, her foot impatiently tapping the worn down wooden floor.

"Is there anything I could get for you, Mademoiselle?", he asked. There was a bead of sweat running down his neck. Her eyes traveled to the display case of the various breads we made. She jabbed a finger at the petit fours, a popular yet pricy dessert pastry. "I guess I'll settle for two of these." Papa nodded and began taking two of them and placing it in a small wicker basket. Mrs. Bourgeois took the wicker basket. "CHLOÉ, stop messing about and let's leave, NOW." Chloé grumbled and humbly followed her mother, but not before giving me a look of disgust.

As they closed the door behind them, I could not help but let out a sigh of relief. I giggled as I heard my parents do the same. Rarely any nobles set foot in our bakery, but when they do, we make sure to make the place and ourselves are as presentable as possible, even if that means tidying up as we serve. I thought things would be normal the next morning. Wake up at the crack of dawn to start making the dough for bread for the day, awake the embers in the stove, and count the money we had from the previous night.

Instead, I woke up to a horror scene. My sweet mother had accidentally swapped the sugar for salt in the petit fours, causing the ones we gave to the Bourgeois family extremely salty and distasteful. It was the year 1789, food was extremely scarce back then, even more so that there will be no money to replace any missing ingredients or remake of a certain pastry or bread. Once the ingredients run out, that pastry or bread is never made again.

I remember the French officials barging in to my home (also the bakery) and roughly grabbing my mother and father to the barred carriage, with an impatient looking coach driver trying to control the rearing horses. I was screaming, my voice straggled over the shouts and yells of the angry nobles outside the bakery who were doomed the petit fours. I didn't know what was happening. I cried out to my mother and father as we fiercely hugged for one last time. "Stay, safe...", I remembered my mother whisper to me. "NO...

y-you can't leave!", I heard myself choking out. I tried following them however I was rudely pushed back by the officials. An hour and a half later I heard the cannons fire two times...then silence. Shutting my eyes tightly, I covered my mouth to keep from screaming in agony. They are gone. My parents, Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng were dead.

I was only sixteen then. I felt my heart break as my life crumbled beneath me. My parents were my only family. I had no siblings, no grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins. If a person were to be executed that easily, how long would I have before I'm next? That night as I lay in bed I realized that I could not live in this place anymore, that I had no purpose here any longer, so the next thing I knew, I was throwing everything I owned in a handmade bag. I crept into the bakery and snatched a stale loaf of bread from the display case. I noticed that I needed to be extremely careful. One wrong move and I would get sent to the guillotine to be executed.

I started working my way down the path, out of the common streets of Paris, carefully aware of my surroundings. The wind was fearsome even back then. I pulled the threadbare shawl around my shoulders tighter. It was not before a couple of hours when I discovered something quite odd in the distance. I walked closer. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary but...I gasped. The howling wind gave way to ripples in what appeared to be an invisible wall. I cautiously put my hand in, eyes wide in shock as I watched it disappear. Turning my head back to get one last glance at my city, I stepped into the wall disappearing from plain sight.

I rubbed my eyes again and again, but could not the shake the image of the grand castle in front of me. Most importantly...why was it hidden? Who even lived here? The wind was howling even more so now, soaking in to my bones. With nervous hesitation I walked up the stone steps to the entrance of the castle.

My hands were shaking as I knocked the vast, dark colored, wooden door. No one replied. I turned around to head back the way I came from, hoping there was a tree or some shelter to take cover. The door creaked open from behind me. I gasped, my body paralyzed with fear. I turned my head slowly to see it has open on its own. About ten feet into the castle, I watched as a black cat warily gazed at me from across the room, its green eyes following my every movement as I crept into the castle entrance.

Welcome to my story, where events are never expected, and shocking truths can be discovered just about anywhere...

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A/N: I hoped you like the story so far! I have a general idea of what I'm going to do in the next chapters, but I'm always open to suggestions and ideas.

This is my second FanFiction I decided to create, if you know me than you would know that my first fanfic is also a Miraculous Ladybug FanFiction named "Deep Blue". So...if you're into mermaids and romance follow that story as well as this one! :)