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Lore Episode 25: The Cave (Transcript) - 11th January 2016

tw: body horror, cults, death, kidnapping

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

During his historic journey aboard the HMS Beagle, Charles Darwin spent over a month on an island off the coast of Chile known as Chiloé. It wasn’t his final destination, but he still managed to work and collect information and specimens, including a small, endangered fox known now as “Darwin’s zorro”. He also witnessed the after effects of an earthquake and made note of a rainbow that transitioned from the typical semi-circle to a full circle, right before his eyes - but it was the people he encountered that seemed to impact him most. He later wrote: “They are a humble, quiet, industrious set of men. Although with plenty to eat, the people are very poor, and the lower orders cannot scrape together money sufficient to purchase even the smallest luxuries”. He also noted seeing a pair of black-necked swans, but thankfully Darwin didn’t have the same view of birds that the local people did, and still do, actually. One local historian recalls how, when he was a boy, a hunch-backed heron flew low over his fishing boat. When he told his father, the older man grabbed his shotgun and waited for the bird to return. Why? Because for as long as anyone could remember, the people of Chiloé have believed that some birds are more than they appear. Some people, it seems, believe they are warlocks. Seeing one was a bad omen, hinting that someone close to you would die. All of us are ruled by authority to some degree, whether it’s through our government, our religion or our family ties. Often, it’s all three. But there’s another governing body, one that’s as old as time itself, and on Chiloé, it controlled people for centuries. Sometimes, you see, people are ruled by fear. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

The Incas called it “The Place of the Seagulls”. They stayed away from the area, believing it was the border between their empire of prosperity and safety, and the cold, dark wilderness to the south. Chiloé isn’t a large island, perhaps less than 100 miles from north to south, but it’s certainly the largest in the collection of small islands there off the coast of Chile, and to visit it is to go back in time: green hills, mountains in the distance, dark waves of the south Pacific lapping on the shore where colourful houses are built on stilts to stay above the mud and the rocks. Darwin described it as beautiful in 1835. He wrote of the mixture of evergreen trees and tropical vegetation, with the rolling hills and thick forest – and all that green, Darwin postulated, was due to the enormous amount of rainfall. Grey skies and wet soil are a constant of life in Chiloé, then as it is now, and while most people have never heard of the place, the unique churches there have an architectural style that’s earned them classification as UNESCO World Heritage Sites. There are churches, of course, because Jesuit missionaries built them shortly after arriving at the beginning of the 17th century. But don’t let these European artefacts fool you; the culture the Jesuits encountered when they arrived was far outside their realm of experience. The Chiloé of old was home to a vast collection of myths and legends that informed almost every aspect of life, and because much of the economy and culture of the island was built around the fishing industry just as it is today, many of those stories have elements of the sea in them. One example is the legend of the ghost ship known as the Caleuche. According to the stories, the Caleuche patrols the waters off the coast of the island, moving both above the water and below. The ship itself is a sentient being and has the ability to sense when someone from the island has drowned. After they die, these people are brought onto the ship by two sisters and their brother, where their new life can begin. That life consisted of both an eternal party aboard the ship, as well as working as sailors in the transport and unloading of illegal cargo for the island’s merchants. Even today, there are many in Chiloé who claim to have seen the ship, still patrolling the cold waters offshore.

There are other legends that haunt the island as well. Stories speak of the Trauco, a sort of forest troll or little person who lives in hollow trees, deep in the forest. Their task is to protect the trees, but they have also become a convenient scapegoat for unwed mothers. The Trauco, so they say, is irresistible to virgins who wonder into the forest, and those women frequently return home pregnant. La Pincoya is said to be a woman who appears to fishermen along the coast. She is described as young and beautiful, but her hair is covered in wet kelp, and the locals consider her to be an omen, although the outcome depends on the circumstances. If she appears facing the sea, your fishing nets will overflow; if she’s facing you, though, those nets will be empty; and in the rare instances when she appears right in front of a person, legend says it is best to close your eyes and run as fast as you can, lest she seduce you and lead you down into the sea. And one more legend is that of the basilisk, a creature that appears elsewhere around the globe. In Chiloé, though, the basilisk is more than just an enormous snake. Here, it also has the head of a rooster, and hatches from an egg. Some stories tell of how the basilisk will nest beneath a person’s house. During the night, it will slither out and suck the air from the lungs of the people sleeping inside. For as frightening as some of these creatures and stories might be, though, none of them compare to the legends of the Brujo de Chiloé – the warlocks of the island. They have struck fear into the hearts of the locals for centuries. They have shaped many aspects of their culture. They have been blamed for tragedy, for loss, and even for illness and death. Most frightening of all is the simple fact that, unlike all the other legends found on the island, the Brujo were real.

We know the Brujo were real because they were brought to trial in 1880. Almost overnight, what was once little more than a whispered legend - as sort of Chilean bogeyman, if you will – took on flesh and bone, and what the investigation uncovered was truly shocking. Let’s step back, though. It’s important to understand where the warlocks came from, and the short answer is that we don’t really know, but there are ideas, and many of them hold promise and truth. The most common theory is that something powerful was formed as a result of the collision between the indigenous culture and the Catholic faith of the Spanish when they first arrived. The ingredients for this new breed of legend had been there for a very, very long time, though. On one side, we have the machi – these were the traditional shaman of the Chilean culture, the healers, the wise people. Their realm was that of revelations, interpretations of dreams and serving as the oracle for their community. On the other side, there was the kalku – these were the practitioners of black magic, considered to be the witches and warlocks by most people. Unlike the machi, who sat at the centre of their society and were documented religious figures, the kalku were more mythical, spoken of in stories and whispered about at night. The kalku are described as machi gone bad, those who became more interested in selfish gain than serving the community. I know this will be a gross over-simplification, but think of the machi as the Jedi and the kalku as the Sith, the light side and the dark, and as Han Solo recently said, “It’s true. All of it.”

Enter the Spanish conquistadors. They arrived in 1567 and brought countless stories with them of European witches, but the culture in Chiloé has always been very male-driven, and so the idea of a female witch was converted to the male warlock in the public narrative. This melding of religions has actually happened in many countries across the centuries, where the Catholic faith would meet ancient beliefs and rather than wipe it out, would blend with it, unintentionally becoming something new. And that’s how the Brujo were born… maybe. Some scholars make reference to a story from the 17th century of a Spaniard named José de Moraleda, who met them machi and wanted desperately to impress them. He challenged them to a magical duel, and after they brought in one of their best machi, Moraleda was defeated. As a prize, the Spaniard handed over to them a book of spells that he claimed had been gathered from around the world. It was with that book of spells, the legend says, that the Brujo built their cult. Some still refer to it by its original name – the Recta Provincia, “The Righteous Province” – and according to them, this secret group manipulated the culture on the island for two centuries. Initiation into the group was complex and drenched with the occult. The first step was to wash away any remnant of Christian baptism, and they did this by bathing in one of the local rivers for 15 nights in a row. Some of them were instructed to murder a relative or a close friend, and then, when all of that was completed, they had to run around the island naked while invoking the devil’s name. The Brujo maintained their power over the people of Chiloé through an odd mixture of supernatural rumour and mafia-like control. They would most commonly force local farmers to give them produce or money, but they were also known to bribe local authorities and even created a shadow government that ruled in the places where the Spanish didn’t reach, and rather than use violence or traditional weapons to enforce their policies, they used the threat of a curse. Ultimately, it was this game of blackmail and protection rackets that brought an end to their reign over the people of Chiloé, and so in 1880, over 100 members of the cult were arrested and interrogated. Many were released when they turned out to be nothing more than machi looking for nothing more than a community to belong to, but some were held for trial on the charge of murder. The darkest revelations from the trial, though, were never believed. The supernatural creatures, the book of spells, the secret, hidden cave where the cult maintained their seat of power – all of this was passed off as folklore and superstition. However, eye-witness testimony says otherwise.

The trials revealed many new details about the Brujo and their beliefs, practices and inner workings. Some almost sound like they were pulled right out of a children’s book, they’re so simple and benign, while others are downright chilling. For example, one of the men on trial in 1880 revealed that each warlock carried a pet lizard with him. This lizard, according to the man, would be tied to the warlock’s forehead and, because it was magical, of course, it gifted him with powers. These warlocks were even said to communicate and interact with the ghost sailors aboard the Caleuche, using seahorses as aquatic carrier pigeons to pass messages back and forth. Other stories spoke of how the warlocks recruited new spies for their sect. According to the legend, these warlocks would kidnap young women and would give them a special elixir to drink. Once ingested, these girls would vomit until their stomachs and intestines lay on the ground at their feet. Then, lightened of their load, they would transform into birds and do the bidding of their master. None of this, though, compares to what the Brujo were said to have kept in their cave. One of the men on trial in 1880, an elderly man named Mateo, claimed that in the 1860s, he had been asked to visit the cave to feed the creatures kept there, and although his testimony was rejected by the court as fantasy, some have been left wondering. The cave, it is said, was difficult to locate, and rightly so. It contained multiple magical items, including the books of spells the group had received from the Spaniard Moraleda, as well as a bowl that was said to show the future to those who looked into it, and because these were objects of power for the warlocks, they needed to be carefully guarded. The entrance was a door hidden beneath the grass and soil in a rocky canyon near the coast and, with it, a metal key. Mateo told the court that he opened the entrance to the cave only to find two creatures inside that nearly defied description. One was called the chivito, a humanoid creature that was briefly described as “goat-like” and walking on four legs, but it was the other thing in the cave that Mateo had no trouble describing because, at first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than a bearded man. This man, though, was deformed – not mildly or by birth, but intentionally and drastically. He was called the imbunche, and although the one that Mateo witnessed appeared to be old, he said that they typically began as infants.

Now, this next part isn’t for the faint of heart, but it’s necessary to understand the level of cruelty and barbarism that this cult practiced. According to writer Bruce Chatwin, who visited the island in 1975, the locals still maintain a good amount of folklore around the creation of the imbunche. The warlocks would kidnap a male, six-month-old child, Chatwin recorded, and then deliver it to the one known as “the deformer”, who lived inside the cave. This man’s job was to shape and disfigure the infant’s body. Its head would be twisted daily until, after many months, it faced backwards. Limbs and fingers would be disjointed, and even its ears and mouth would malformed by the deformer. The final characteristic, according to Chatwin, is the right arm. It would be bent backwards and the hand slipped in to an incision made on the right shoulder blade, and the wound would be sewn up, leaving the arm permanently affixed to the child’s back. Why this was done is something that history has forgotten over the years, but the impact is just as powerful today. Left to guard and inhabit the secret cave of the warlocks, the imbunche was seen less as an act of torture and more as the creation of an essential part of the cult’s society. When one imbunche died, another would be created to take its place. This is the level of darkness these real-life warlocks were capable of, this is what powered the fear they used to enslave and control the people of the island, and this is what many of them confessed to on the stand, that spring in 1880. As a result, many of the accused were sentenced to long prison terms. These were men who had killed, who had cursed neighbours and blackmailed businesses for protection money, and yet the courts couldn’t make their rulings stick. Just one year later, nearly all the warlocks were released. The reason? It was impossible to prove they had belonged to a secret society of black magic, as horrible as the stories had sounded. No one, they thought, could be that evil.

In a world where authority often falls to those with the most wealth, the most weapons or the most connections, it’s unusual to find cases where some other power allows people to rule. But if the story of Chiloé teaches us anything, it’s that fear can be just as powerful as any government official - fear of death, fear of poverty, fear of the unknown. Those who called themselves part of the Brujo in 1880 were card-carrying members of a cult that wielded fear like a weapon. Thankfully, the trial helped to put real faces to the shadows that had plagued the people of Chiloé for centuries. Whether or not they received punishment for their crimes was secondary – the warlocks had been exposed, shattering their illusion of fear. But while many saw the trial as the end of that nightmare, there are some who aren’t so sure. In 2006, the local court there in Chiloé issued a restraining order against Manuel Cardeneus and his brother-in-law. Due to a physical altercation they had had with the 66-year-old farmer named José Marquez, they were prohibited from coming within 10 meters of the old man. When asked why he attacked the farmer, Cardeneus said it was because of an illness his father had been suffering through. Pain had become a constant part of the man’s life, and it had gone on long enough. Cardeneus claimed that his father’s illness had begun after an encounter with Marquez all the way back in 1992. The pain hadn’t stopped since then, and after consulting with a local shaman, they were told why. According to the machi¸ the farmer had cursed their father with black magic, which begs the question: did the trial of 1880 really wipe out the cult of the warlocks, or did some of them slip through the government’s net, living on to spread and grow their sect into the 20th century and beyond? After all, neither the cave nor its occupants were ever found.

[Closing Statements]

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ashtheshortstack · 6 years ago

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Garlic in the Cauldron - Ch 7

Garlic in the Cauldron

Adrien Agreste learned from a young age that witches were the enemies to vampires. He was taught to kill on sight, drink them dry, and never look back… however, meeting a witch named Marinette threw his entire world off balance.

Ch 7 - Bleeding Love

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With each passing day, Alya’s suspicions continued to grow. Marinette was definitely keeping her at arm's length. The subtle hints that her best friend gave her (whether Marinette realized it or not), and the way the raven haired girl would just stare off into space and smile sometimes had Alya coming to one conclusion: her best friend was crushing hard. Maybe even in love.

But why wouldn’t she tell her? Alya knew something had to be up. Marinette had never hidden her crushes from her. Not even in awkward teenhood. She remembered Marinette’s emotions fleeting from boy to boy as a tween. One day it was the boy who sat behind her in training, the next it was the boy who came into the bakery asking for a magic macaron.

Alya couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that Marinette was hiding something from her. If she tried to bring remotely anything up about dating, Marinette seemed to bristle and change the topic. It had been going on for almost two months, and Alya wasn’t going to stand for it anymore. She wanted to know what was going on in her best friend’s life. And she’d do whatever it took to find out.

Even if it meant setting up a stake out across the street from Marinette’s home. Alya hovered on her broom, hidden just out of sight of the bakery. She began noticing the pattern… Every other night, Marinette would leave on her broom then come back hours later. She always had a stupid, dopey smile on her face when she returned.

Was Marinette sneaking out to see a boy!? That was crazy! A goody-two-shoes like Marinette never seemed like the type! She didn’t know she had it in her. Alya was kind of proud, actually. Maybe, Marinette’s teenage rebellion phase was just coming a little late. Marinette did have the weight of the witch race on her shoulders according to the oracle, after all.

Even so, if her bestie was sneaking out to be with a guy, she wouldn’t tell anyone! But, he needed the best friend approval test for sure. She needed to meet this guy. There had to be something wrong with him if Marinette was hiding him from everyone.

If he dark spice dealer… Alya would have a cow. While she knew Marinette had her earrings that were supposed to protect her, if she resorted to black magic to take out Gabriel Agreste then Alya would have to talk some sense into her best friend.

That evening, when Marinette snuck out, Alya followed her. She followed her to the forest just outside the coven, which made Alya’s dark magic theory even more plausible. Her heart roared in her chest, no matter how much she willed it to stop. She was terrified to learn the truth. There were so many things Marinette could be doing. Training with Master Fu? Practicing spells on her own time? She could just be taking a late night walk every other evening to handle the pressure.

Alya was stunned with what she saw to say the least. Marinette was laying out a picnic blanket? Whoever she was meeting was already there. She was meeting a guy! This kid was blonde and had bright green eyes. He wasn’t a warlock she’d seen in their coven… maybe he was from a different one? Couldn’t have been a dark spice dealer… those people are green with dark eyes from the effects of dark magic.

That was a relief at least…

So what was it? Why was Marinette hiding him? Alya watched as they shared a laugh, Marinette’s cheeks were flushed. Oh jeez. The girl had it bad for this guy…

“Alya!” Trixx hissed, growling.

Alya hushed her familiar with a finger to her lips, whispering in a harsh tone. “You’re going to get us caught!”

Trixx quickly changed into her fox form, teeth gritted as she snarled. “That boy is a vampire!”

“What!?” Alya quickly covered her mouth.

The boy… the vampire seemed startled. She assumed they must have been far enough for Marinette not to hear… but not him. He grabbed his hood, shoving it over his head. She assumed to shield his probably pointed ears.

With her cover blown, Alya emerged from the woods. Her wand was hot and hissing as she drew it. Fingers shaking, she held the wand up. “Get away from her!”

Marinette was clearly stunned to see her. Her blue eyes were wide with panic. “W-Wait, Alya!”

“I don’t know what kind of trance this vampy put you under, but we’re going to break it right here and now!” Alya demanded through gritted teeth.

She was seething. How dare he do something like this to her best friend! He probably knew she was the witch from the prophecy! He was creating an in to their coven! He was going to kill them!

The vampire scrambled back, only pissing her off more. Alya held her wand more confidently. “Don’t you move, blood sucker! I’ll turn you into a damn toad faster than your head can spin!”

As she went to cast the spell, Marinette’s hand suddenly swatted her wand out of her hand. “No!” she screeched.

Alya gaped, watching her wand fly and hit the earth a few feet away. Now, what would she do? She was defenseless! “W-What are you doing!?” she shouted at her friend.

“You don’t understand!” Marinette cried, tears welling in her eyes. Her hands were trembling, bottom lip quivering. Alya realized… she really had no idea what was going on here. Marinette swallowed, shaking her head. “Please, don’t hurt him,” she begged.

Alya couldn’t believe her ears. She gawked at her. The vampire made no moves to attack. He just sat there, green eyes blown wide as he watched them both. She couldn’t believe Marinette even had her back turned to him. Let alone was telling her not to hurt him.

“Marinette… Just what is going on here?” Alya asked, hands going sharply to her hips.

“He’s—he’s my friend,” Marinette sputtered quickly.

Noting how the vampire grimaced at those words… Alya knew that was a fucking lie. They were much more than friends. Marinette may be a good liar, but Alya could sniff out bullshit when she knew it.

“You’re telling me you’ve been sneaking out for months to canoodle around with a vampire!?”

“Have you been spying on me!?”

“Only because you haven’t been telling me the truth!”

“This is low, even for you, Alya!”

“Says the one snogging with a vampire!”

“You don’t know what I’ve been doing!”

______________________________________________________________

Adrien watched, unsure of what to do as the two girls bickered with one another. Obviously, that was Alya. Her best friend she had mentioned to him many times. He knew that Marinette mentioned Alya could be nosy… but spying on her and following her out here was something neither of them expected. He assumed Marinette hadn’t been feeding her enough lies to satisfy her.

“Just leave us alone, Alya!”

Alya seemed entirely exasperated by the entire situation. Honestly, if Adrien was in the same position, he’d probably feel the same. The night he met Marinette, he was entirely overwhelmed by her kindness even after he’d almost drank her blood. Their relationship was taboo. It made sense that this would be the reaction to it.

“What if he’s an Agreste, huh!? What then!?”

Wait… what was that supposed to mean?

“A-Agreste?”

The girls paused, stunned at his voice. Marinette’s eyes were wide as she stared at him. Slowly, Adrien pulled the hoodie off his head, gazing at both of them. Plagg hopped down from the tree, suddenly joining into the situation.

“Adrien, I wouldn’t go there…” Plagg warned.

Adrien shook his head. “No, I need to know. What’s wrong with being an Agreste?”

“Ha! Told you!” Alya smarmed, hands going to her hips.

The look Marinette gave her was menacing. There was a fire in her eyes he’d never seen. She was so angry that her friend would even insinuate that he could even be an Agreste. But he didn’t understand…

What had his father done?

Taking a small step towards him, Marinette eyed him carefully. “A-Are you? Are you a member of the Agreste clan?”

Swallowing thickly, he nodded. “I-I’m more than just a member, Marinette.”

His love went sickly pale. Her blue eyes went wide as the gears seemed to turn in her head. Marinette’s hand clutched to her chest. “O-Oh my God... Your mother—Your mother is the vampire the covens banded together to kidnap.”

Adrien couldn’t understand. He didn’t know what was going on. “What are you talking about? You already knew my mother was killed by witches.”

“You—You were the vampire’s son. You were supposed to be killed with her, but you weren’t. Oh—Oh my God…”

His head was whirling. What the hell was she talking about!?

A beat of silence passed.

“Your father… is Gabriel Agreste?”

Suddenly, he figured that being Gabriel Agreste’s son wasn’t just a bad thing for him. He knew what cruelty his father was capable of at home. He knew that his father wasn’t a good man. But by the reaction of both witches in front of him, this what Plagg meant when the familiar said there was a lot that Adrien didn’t know. He felt so ignorant. He couldn’t understand.

Shifting his weight from side to side, all Adrien could feel was shame. He couldn’t look at her. He felt guilty. And didn’t even know what he’d done… “Y-Yes.”

“Your name is Adrien Agreste.”

“Yes,” he said weakly.

Marinette let out a sob. Her knees buckled as she fell to the ground. Her palms went to her eyes, hiding the fresh tears he knew were covering her cheeks.

“Marinette…” he took a step towards her.

But she held up her hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Please, don’t,” she muttered. “I-I can’t. Not right now. We can’t—We can’t do this.”

Chest growing tight, he wanted to reason with her. Wanted to beg for her forgiveness. “M-Marinette, please. What did my father do!?”

She shook her head, hugging her arms tightly around her stomach. It was like… she couldn’t even look at him. Was she disgusted with him now? She looked to Tikki who had remained silent since her and Plagg joined the fray. “Did you know?”

“Yes,” her familiar answered. It was the quietest he’d ever heard her. She seemed so ashamed of herself as she hung her tiny head.

“And you didn’t tell me!?” Marinette was so furious. He felt so much guilt that her anger was directed at Tikki. Wasn’t this his fault?

“I-I tried, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to ruin what you two had.”

“So, you just let me suck face with the vampire who is the son of a monster!?”

Tikki didn’t answer. Her beady blue eyes met his. With every hiss of Marinette’s words, he felt his heart crack a little more. A monster… she thought his father was a monster. She wasn’t wrong. He knew that. But the way she said it with such distaste. She didn’t even mention that she loved him.

Did she think he was a monster too?

He should’ve told her. The day he met her. He should’ve said “my name is Adrien Agreste.” She could’ve tucked tail and ran. Never fell in love with him. Never felt this pain or hurt. If he’d simply uttered his last name, she never would have been put in this situation. One that could have been easily avoided if he hadn’t been so stupid.

Adrien gulped, taking a step back. Hot tears burned his eyes. This was his fault. Entirely his fault. He hurt her. His existence in her life was a mistake. He loved her. He loved her. And he’d destroyed that by not knowing the truth. This was taboo. They’d both known it was. He should’ve been smarter. This never should have happened.

Marinette noticed him move, her eyes meeting his. There was fear there. Was she afraid of him again? The last thing he’d ever wanted was to see her so afraid of him again. And he’d blown it. He messed up everything.

“I…I have to go,” he said quickly.

“A-Adrien, wait! I didn’t mean—”

He didn’t.

He left. Flying home with tears in his eyes.

Plagg would tell him the truth. Now.

________________________________________________________________

Plagg gave him space at first. The only sounds filling Adrien’s room were his heartbroken cries muffled into his pillow. He didn’t understand what he’d done to deserve such a horrible fate. He fell in love with a witch. And now, it was time to face those consequences. He was so angry with himself for doing this. For hurting her.

For falling for her.

Finally, he heard Plagg patter onto the bed. Sniffling, he looked up from his cotton pillow, peaking up at the creature. The pillow was soaked from absorbing his tears and was damp as he kept it pressed beneath his nose to hide his rosy cheeks.

Plagg sighed, lying down on the bed. “Whenever you’re ready, kid…”

Nodding slowly, Adrien let the pillow fall into his lap. “Tell me.”

“I guess I should start with… this entire vampires vs witches war was started by your father.”

Fingers clenching the pillow, he could’ve sworn he heard the fabric ripping beneath his nails. “W-What?”

Plagg nodded, a sorrowful gleam in his eyes. “Your father went into a frenzy, and instead of attacking a human, he attacked a witch. After discovering how strong witch blood made vampires, he decided to continue hunting down witches and feeding on them instead of humans. Well, there’s a lot less witches in this world than humans, and he was leaving evidence behind. Every victim had vampire bite marks clear as day on their necks. Your father could have healed the wounds and covered his tracks… but he never did. It was like he wanted to be found.”

That sounded so much like his father. What bothered him the most was that he had no idea this was truly the type of man he was living with. Gabriel was underhanded, sneaky, and aggressive. Everything vampires were “supposed” to be. But even Adrien thought his father was sickening to be around.

Speaking up, Adrien pulled at the thin material. “So, my mother…”

“After the evidence kept gathering around your father, majority of the covens decided to unite and take matters into their own hands. They—They tried to take you.”

He gaped, staring at the familiar. “W-What!?”

Plagg was struggling to continue, he could tell. But Adrien had to know the truth. Not matter how painful it was. “They tried to kidnap you and use you as a bargaining chip to get your father to stop murdering witches. Your mother offered herself instead.”

“Were they planning to kill me?”

Shaking his head, the cat hummed. “No. Their intention wasn’t to kill anyone, just simply to get Gabriel to stop killing for the safe return of his wife. But, as you may have noticed, your father doesn’t take being put in a negotiating position very tactfully. He gathered your clan… and slaughtered an entire coven as a message.”

Adrien gulped. No wonder Marinette thought his father was a monster. He even agreed with her. Chewing his lip, he held in a sob. “Plagg… I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t you, Adrien. Don’t take on your father’s burdens. Emilie—Emilie knew what had to be done. Your mother sacrificed herself in hopes that it would stop your father. She told the witches who held her captive that killing her may have enough consequences to stop him from continuing down this path,” Plagg paused, taking a deep breath. “Your mother wanted nothing more than to prevent what has happened to you. She didn’t want you to be caught up in this again. Your mother died to protect you. She begged the covens to keep you a secret and say that they killed you as well. And when your father found out that witches assumed his son was dead… well, clearly he locked you away so people would believe it.”

So much information overloaded Adrien’s mind. That’s why Marinette was freaking out. She never would have assumed that he was Gabriel Agreste’s son because he was supposedly dead. All of this…. All of this was because of his father! His mother’s death wasn’t on witches, it was on his father. She died because of him!

But Plagg… Plagg knew so much. Adrien eyed the familiar. “You… sound like you know first-hand.”

The cat grimaced. “Let’s just say… when I came here that it wasn’t the first time your father had killed one of my owners.”

That made sense. He was sure that Plagg was probably sick of his father by that point. He’d chase the culprit down too. He couldn’t imagine Plagg’s surprise to find him locked up in his room all day. Plagg probably thought Gabriel’s son would be a monster in training, not a naïve vampire who knew nothing about—well—being a vampire.

“As soon as I met you… I knew you were going to be great. You may see falling for Marinette as a major problem right now, but Adrien, I can assure you. It wasn’t a mistake. This is your fate. Your destiny is intertwined with hers.”

Fate… Fate and destiny seemed to be witchy mojo that Marinette mentioned everyone once in a while. Then she started using words like “soulmate” and it terrified him even more. It was so ironic that out of all the witches he met, it was one from the coven where a young witch was supposed to defeat his father.

And maybe that would be the day he waited for. Maybe, when all of this was over… he could reunite with Marinette. She certainly had a distain for him after that evening. The witch was absolutely furious with Tikki for not telling her that he was an Agreste.

“Did you tell Tikki who I was… or did she figure it out?”

“A little of both.”

Adrien let out a dry laugh. “So, all that time in the tree wasn’t spent talking about soap opera gossip like I thought, huh?”

Plagg grinned. “Nope, just about the two stupid young adult love birds we were trying to protect. Which, I’m sorry about by the way. Trixx is a sneaky familiar and can make other familiars unable to sense her as well as her owners. That sly fox is nothing but trouble.”

“D-Do you think Marinette will ever love me again? After the war is over?”

“She still loves you, Adrien, she’s just… a little shocked right now,” he assured.

“This wouldn’t ruin things between us? How do you know?”

“A little buggy knows a lot about her owner.”

________________________________________________________________

Adrien sat in the usual tree he hid in while waiting for Marinette to arrive. It’d been a week since he’d last seen her. Since he’d learned the truth. Even if she didn’t want to be with him, he figured he owed her an apology. Whether he’d meant to or not, he’d lied by omission. He didn’t know his last name held so much weight. How heavy of a burden it was…

While Adrien didn’t expect her to show, he couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed when she didn’t. Marinette had a cellphone, however, since his father kept him in the dark ages Adrien didn’t own one himself. He had no way to contact her.

Sighing, he leaned against the bark. His foot dangled idly to the side.

“Did you really think she’d show up?” Plagg asked, licking a paw as he lay on a lower branch.

Adrien shrugged, picking at the bark beneath his nails. “I was hoping,” he muttered, voice wavering as he tried to hide the disappointment that ached in his chest.

He missed her.

Plagg stood, stretching his back with a groan. The familiar hopped up into the branch with Adrien, making the leaves at the tip of the branch rattle. The vampire watched, a bit stunned, as Plagg climbed towards him and crawled into his lap. There was a purr buzzing in his throat as Adrien timidly scratched his head. It was… nice. He’d never noticed that Plagg’s fur was very soft. It was comforting while he felt so awful.

“What are you going to do, kid?”

Stroking the cat, Adrien gazed down at him. Plagg was looking at him so expectantly. Like Adrien should know the answer right then. But he didn’t. Adrien had been lost many times in his life. However, this was the worst. This was the lowest he’d ever felt. Losing Marinette was losing the greatest light that had ever entered his life.

“I need to go talk to her.”

Plagg’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? That’s risky.”

“She’s worth it. I have to know how she feels.”

_______________________________________________________________

When Adrien found himself perched on the railing of her balcony in his bat form, he was at a loss. He didn’t know how to approach her. Didn’t know how to apologize. Where to even begin. He was nervous… terrified, even. The last thing he wanted was to see her fearful of him again. Disgusted with him again. The thoughts plagued him as he balanced there, waiting for something to happen.

What if she never wanted to see him again? The idea of the love of his life hating him because of his father’s actions was almost too much to bear. He loved her. With every part of his being. He longed to be with her again. His heart ached at the thought of her. His chest was so tight, heart pumping harder than it ever had in his life.

Swallowing, he gathered his nerves. Returning to his natural form, he bent down, knocking on the trap door as anxiety overwhelmed him. His fingers trembled as his knuckle rapped against the wood.

Plagg stood next to a potted plant. Adrien was too uneasy to note the little detail that the familiar could easily knock one of those over. He was a cat. And a little shit. He’d probably do it in a heartbeat.

The door creaked open; Marinette’s expression was suspicious as she timidly opened the door. Her eyes blew wide at the sight of him. She yelped, quickly slamming the door back down.

“W-Wait! Marinette, please, we need to talk.”

“I can’t,” came her muffled reply.

“Please, Marinette…” he begged, voice hoarse. Hot liquid stung his eyes. God, he couldn’t cry. Not now. He had to speak to her. “Please. Plagg told me everything. I know what my father did. I’m sorry I was ignorant and didn’t understand. I wish I had known…”

He reared back in surprise when she flung the door back open. Her brows were pinched, eyes hard as she stared at him. “You really didn’t know?”

“I didn’t know anything, I swear. My father has kept me in the dark my entire life. I had—I had no idea my mother sacrificed herself for me. My father locked me up and hid me from the world to make everyone think I was dead.”

He noticed her swallow. “I did. I thought the son of Gabriel Agreste was dead. We all did. It’s why I—I never suspected he was your father. I just thought you had a really shitty dad.”

“Let me in. We can talk about this, please.”

Sighing, she nodded. “Okay…”

Adrien tried to hide the elation he felt. His ears perked, heart flying higher. He didn’t want to expect much, but it was nice to be allowed to explain himself.

So, when he found himself sitting on her chaise, he did just that. Marinette sat away from him on the other side of the room. She was weary, and that was fair. It wasn’t every day that you find out that your—uh, whatever he was to her—was the son of your mortal enemy. Granted, if Adrien had known this entire war was his father’s doing, he’d never pursued Marinette in the first place.

“Plagg told me everything. I’m so sorry for not knowing and for not understanding how much danger I was putting you in. I could have really fucked up. And I hope you forgive me for that.”

Marinette crossed her arms, cocking a brow. “You’re putting me in a lot of danger right now, you realize.”

He gulped. “I do. But I couldn’t—I couldn’t let you go without saying goodbye. Or without letting you know how much I…” he trailed off, fiddling with his thumbs and avoiding her gaze. “How much I love you.”

“Adrien, please, don’t do this.”

Gazing back up at her, he hid behind his bangs. “I do though. I love you so much. You have been the greatest thing to ever happen to me, Marinette. And I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize how wrong of me this was.”

Marinette hugged herself, shifting uncomfortably as her hands rubbed up and down her arms. She shied away, not looking at him. If she didn’t return his feelings, that was okay. He had to accept that.

“If this changes how you feel about me, then I understand. Being in love with the son of the man who literally called for the extermination for your entire race is—is a hard pill to swallow I’m sure. I never meant to hurt you, Marinette, I—”

“I’m the witch from the prophecy!” she all but shouted.

Her volume startled him. Adrien’s eyes blew wide, brows shooting up past his hairline as he gaped. He’d heard her words, but processing them was an entirely different story. Marinette. Marinette was the witch from the prophecy she’d told him. She was the one who was supposed to end the war.

Marinette was the one destined to eliminate his father.

“O-Oh my god,” he finally sputtered out.

“That’s why we can’t do this, Adrien!” she cried, arms curling into her chest. Hot tears leaked along her cheeks. “I’m supposed to kill your father! This is the most twisted fate, and I… I just can’t handle it. I can’t be in love with you knowing that I’m supposed to eliminate your clan. Your family. I’m supposed to hurt you. Get rid of you! And I know I can’t do it. I-I’m going to fail.” Marinette sobbed as she slid down the wall to the floor.

“Marinette, no,” he pleaded. Adrien stood from the chaise, falling to his knees in front of her. He cupped her cheek, pressing his forehead to hers. “You won’t fail. I… I’ll help you.”

Her eyes shot open, gazing up at him in astonishment. “What?” she gasped.

“I’ll help you. I want to stop this war. My mother wanted this to end, Marinette, that’s why she gave her life up.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not. I’m offering.”

She said nothing. Only gazing at him in a stunned silence. Her eyes seemed to search him, looking for any sign of deceitfulness that she could. But he knew there wasn’t any. He was being entirely honest with her. He’d do whatever it took to fulfil his mother’s last wish for peace.

His heart cracked when she shook her head. “I—I can’t. Adrien, this is so much bigger than either of us realized. We’re in over our heads. You’ve told me the kind of monster your father is at home. I can’t imagine how much more brutal he’ll be if he knows that you’re helping me.”

“Marinette, I can handle myself.”

“I can’t let you do this.”

Gently, he pulled her in placing his lips to hers. The kiss made his chest tighten as so many emotions swirled within him. His stomach churned, eyes watering. This didn’t feel like a normal kiss. It felt like goodbye. And it hurt. So much.

Marinette pulled away, giving him another peck on the cheek. “You need to leave. You need to run away from your clan and don’t look back. Forget about them. And—And forget about me. I can’t promise the outcome of this. I don’t want that guilt hanging over you if something were to happen to me.”

Her words stabbed him like daggers. He didn’t want to admit that she could be right. Adrien was so tired of the women in his life having to be noble. Having to sacrifice herself for others. Why couldn’t he do something about it?

“I can protect you,” he insisted, eyes pleading into hers.

Marinette shook her head, pushing him back by the chest. “You need to go.”

Swallowing thickly, he finally gave in. Pressing a small peck to her forehead, Adrien took his leave. When he reached her balcony, Plagg stood there waiting. No pots throw about, thankfully. The familiar asked nothing. And the two of them flew back to the mansion.

Lonelier than it had ever been…

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