A/N: Hey, this is MutedRain and MaybelleValentine with an AU for you! We hope you enjoy this mystical, magical fanfiction.

Update: We apologize for the inconvenience, but the italicizations of thoughts, stressed words, and onomatopoeia were lost when transferring this chapter onto Wattpad. That has been fixed, but the effects won't show up for a couple days at most.

Chapter 1
"Welcome to Butterfly Village"

There was, once upon a time, in the Kingdom of Adelaveth, a village among the flat, grassy outskirts of Mallowcrest fief. It lay quite away from the castle, a quickly built but now refortified town, a result of a war long ago. However, no signs of war remained and any traveler would swear the village had always been a placid haven of butterflies. The village harbored a lazy community, villagers finishing the essential work at a lethargic pace. The summer sun glared unforgivingly down at the humble village, and the toiling folk below lingered in the shade, moving into the heat only when necessary. Others were more than happy to stay indoors, locked up in their cool homes and protected from the harsh rays of the afternoon sun. Not that it wasn't like that on most days. With nothing spectacular ever coming the village's way, the people lived through the same dull routines for years, and as far as they were concerned, as long as there was food on the table and water in the well, they were living life to the fullest. Life had become predictable and nothing more than a leisure, and at the time the aching weather was only offering another excuse for yet another lazy day. Of course, there were a few young folk with some energy left in them, but it seemed that the only things that were somewhat exciting in the dreary town were the butterflies flitting about. It were as if the village wasn't a people's village at all but rather a butterflies' village. Thus, the name: Butterfly Village.

Although Butterfly Village was often labeled as boring for its uneventfulness, it was by no doubt a peaceful, carefree town. A few folk busied themselves with errands, going out to pick flowers, tend to their crops or simply go out for a little walk despite the hot weather.

An old lady hobbled along the pebbled pathway through the village, her walking stick padding alongside her. She was frail, and her whole form quivered as she walked, her robes sliding over the uneven trail behind her. Thinning blades of grass punctuated openings in the cobblestone. Her eyes were focused on the ground before her, but her gaze soon lifted to stare at a speckled sparrow, its feathers a velvety red, resting in the nook of a tree to the side of the path, claws clutching the gnarled bark of a branch.

It was staring straight at her, peculiarly enough, and it tilted its head before prying its beak open and letting out a little chirp. The bird then turned with short hops to look at something ahead of the lady, something just up ahead on the road. It turned back to her and then back ahead, indicating for her to look as well. "Tweet tweet! Tweet tweet!" A loose leaf feathered the air and drifted to the ground.

Margaret's expression morphed from one of deadened interest to one of affection, her gaze softening, mouthing a quick 'thank you' before wheeling around to spot a few maidens chatting and giggling a few feet from a wooden stand where a woman was selling flowers.

The woman was short and stout, a white coif pulling back her dreadlocks. The tendrils of hair just brimmed the top of her shawl, which blended with the color of the shaved bark on every tree in the village. Her matching gown swished as she turned from the group of maidens and stared straight at the old lady, who stopped in her tracks, eyes widened.

The lady immediately whipped around and headed straight back to her hut. It was a pain (not literally, but she hated acting like an old hag) to shuffle all the way back to the miserable hovel. The houses around it were stacked like cookies on a plate; and they were just that—cookie-cut homes with the same floor plan, the same exterior build, with its door and windows all aligned and straw roofs with duplicate eave-lengths hanging shade over the front porch and narrowly around the sides, and the same amount of gardening space around them, all as if molded from a single, original design. But there was no time for originality when they were built. It was easiest to replicate when building in large quantities. It was also the fastest way to go. She reached her doorway sooner than she'd anticipated, and made an act of struggling with the latch. Finally, the old woman opened the door, awkwardly twisting the rusty knob and dragging herself into the dwelling as the door creaked shut behind her.

As soon as the door had hid Margaret from the eyes of the village folk, she swiftly moved to lock the door from the inside, slotting the bolt into its place. She then swirled around to inspect the pitiful area, her blue eyes first darting to the one window in the house. The makeshift curtains were still drawn over it, as was expected considering that the cloth was nailed around its edges to the border of the window. It could never hurt her to be too careful anyway. Satisfied that she was not being watched, the old lady energetically stepped to a little dresser just to her right. After having opened a drawer, the woman stood tall and still. Her face grew expressionless and she delicately closed her eyes. Deliberately, her old features began to falter, wavering off her in waves of subtle light.

    Every wrinkle, every mole, every blemish on the lady's skin was suddenly gone. Who stood in the room then was a beautiful young lady. A beautiful young lady in a no-longer-too-fitting dress. Also, a short, curled wig of faded blue rested on her head. The woman huffed in relief, reaching for the handheld mirror in the drawer and taking a look at her face.

    A little smirk pulled at her lips as she removed the wig, causing vibrant, midnight blue hair to cascade down onto her shoulders. "Thank Adelia," she whispered in relief to the reflection and rubbed her scalp before setting the mirror down on the floor. Sighing, she quickly got undressed, redressing herself with an undergown that fit her natural figure.

Swirling around in joy, the woman felt freed from the difficult old form. She stopped soon enough though, shuffling through the drawers and checking that all was in order. Once that was done, she went over to a depressing corner of the room, where she had kept a trunk, made up to contain the belongings of Margaret's dead husband.

Lord had mercy on the man. The young bluenette smiled to herself, knowing full well the man had never existed. Still, anyone married to the someone like old, made-up Margaret would surely wish for death. She shook her head, redirecting her focus to the task and moved the weighted trunk aside easily to reveal a loose stone panel that was made to match the stone floors of the dreary hovel. The panel, having no handles of any sort and perfectly sealed into the ground, would've prove difficult to remove, but the lady hardly hesitated to direct an open hand towards it. The stone was suddenly encompassed by a meek blue glow. The light, which hovered about the object and even rippled now and then, was more like an translucent blue encasing as no light was emitted onto its surroundings. Her hand then flicked upward, willing the panel into the same direction. Directing it onto the floor in the same fashion, the magical woman had effortlessly uncovered the secret exit within half a second.

    The bluenette eased herself into the downward exit, peering about one last time. No one would try and enter at the risk of disturbing Margaret. She'd made sure of it by being an unapproachable, wretched old hag. With that reassuring thought, the woman brought the panel back towards herself and lowered into the hole as she slowly covered the entrance. She left a tiny gap to see the trunk and magically bring it to a hover above the panel, holding it there till the stone was back in place.

    Thud.

The trunk dropped rather loudly overhead. The woman flinched. I was lazy. Her eyelids drooped, unimpressed with herself. Adopting the villagers' habits, are you, Marinette? She moved on, quickly forgiving herself. After all, she should have been at her next destination sooner. The tunnel was dark, as always, and she lowered herself to the bottom, which was a few feet underground, about as low as a grave. And it was without a grave reason that she raised her index finger before her eyes, which fluttered shut, and cleared her mind of all her buzzing thoughts. She sensed a glow from behind her eyelids and opened them to witness a spark of light emanating from her fingertip. She brought it beside her head, illuminating the path ahead of her. In all honesty, it wasn't exactly a labyrinth of tunnels, but it was certainly a library of twists and turns, each one harboring a different story. It was a precaution she took while making the tunnels in the case that anyone tried to follow her. There were even dead-ends—she noted one as she passed a dark opening to her left. She was the one that knew these tunnels best. In fact, no one else even knew of them. Finally, after swiftly turning the corner, she reached the dead-end. It was a horizontal dead-end, however. But it was definitely a vertical turn to her; she approached without any hesitation, simply slowing down to a stop at the wall and levitating upwards, holding her light out ahead of her to spot the approaching slab of rock.

It wailed across the rock as it heaved itself out of her way with a flick of her hand, and she caught hold of the edge of the floor. She peeked out with her head, gasping as she spotted the sparrow that had been sitting in the tree just moments before.

"Tikki! You scared me!" The bluenette smiled with furrowed brows as she admonished the little bird, who twittered in response, hopping backwards and out of her way, then proceeded to heave herself out of the hole, keeping to her hands and knees, and closing it with a stable wave, the usual blue light encasing it once again. She shimmied across the stone surface with her elbows, climbing out from underneath her bed.

Marinette stood and turned around, seeing that the sheets were still made nicely, folded crisply, her pillow fluffed and ready to be used; just like how she left it. Across the room stood a full-sized dresser. She caught a glance of her reflection in the mirror as she approached it, closing her eyes as her footsteps echoed throughout the room. She caught a glance of her reflection in the mirror as she approached it, closing her eyes as her footsteps echoed throughout the room, the space between each step shrinking. Every bone and every muscle in her body ached as her height decreased, and she could feel herself lose some of the pucker to her lips and some of the pinch to her waist and some of the bounce to her bust. Her eyelids snapped open and she pulled open the dresser doors, only to have her eyes graced with the sight of dresses aplenty. She'd had time over the years to buy quite a few of them, for they would wear out quite quickly if she did not. Admittedly, she had a fondness for fashion. It was a silent passion of hers. Never did she speak of it to others. But of course, as a fair maiden, it is required that I express some sort of interest in dresses. With a series of gestures, she managed to hold all of her hair as flat as possible to her head, and removed her hand carefully, watching her hair in the mirror to make damn sure it didn't move or fall from its spot. And thankfully so. It's a sheer pleasure of mine to talk about it. Her free hand snatched a wig from inside  one of the drawers underneath, swinging it over her head and over the mass of hair, securing it there with a little drag of her finger across the edge, a blue glow gluing it in place. It's almost embarrassing how excited I get over it sometimes.

Step, step, step, step.

She closed the open drawer with a slam upon hearing the noise outside, standing in rigid silence for a couple seconds.

Wait. A subconsciously held breath released itself from her chest. It's just someone passing by. She couldn't help herself as she spun around to check that the curtains over the window were still nailed in place, and sighed with relief. I have nothing to worry about. After opening the dresser drawer again, she slipped out of her underdress, letting it drop to the floor (it deflated with a puff as the bubble of air underneath it was pushed out by the weight of the linen), and began to unravel the other underdress, one that was more fitted to her new size, in the drawer. The bluenette pulled it over her head before taking a bell-bottom dress from a nearby closet and put it on, swiping the sides with a firm hand to smooth out the overlapping folds. She lifted the pile of cloth from the floor and folded it promptly, placing it in the compartment before closing the drawer and doors of the dresser. Finished, she smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she admired her handiwork. A young maiden stared back at her, with her cheekbones less pronounced and her lips with less pucker and her bust with less bounce.  Alright. I'm ready to go. Mary twirled in her pink dress, which flared out at the waist as the fabric swished across the ground, the pigtails of her wig brushing across her neck as her head turned around with glee to watch the spectacle.

That was her favorite part about dresses. They always looked wonderful when she spun around and around. She could continue on for decades of minutes until she became dizzy and the room itself was whirling with her as she giggled and admired the skirt as it twisted and floated on thin air—but she had a mission, and it wouldn't do her any good if her friends walked off before she could get to them in time.

Tikki was perched on the windowsill, nearly asleep with her wings tucked into her sides and her beak pressed into her chest.

She stepped over to her front door, turning the knob and crossing the threshold with a small smile tugging at the edges of her lips, not forgetting to call to the little sparrow with a loud whisper. "Don't go and make a hash of the kitchen again if you get bored. There's a window open for a reason." The bluenette then practically pranced down the street, wheeling around to look at all the buildings with a giddy feeling bubbling up within her. The sky was fluffed with a few clouds and there was a refreshing breeze blowing.

With her dress swishing at her sides as she frolicked along the pebbled street, Mary took the time to appreciate the simplicity of Butterfly Village . The houses and animal pens were simple and honest just as was the community. The folk were straightforward and simple; everything was as it appeared. As she passed Butterfly Inn, the only two-story building in town, she recalled her first visit to the village. Having ordered a "fulsome chicken stew," at the inn, Mary had expected nothing more than to be hoodwinked with a measly bowl of water and slop. She had actually received what she was promised: a meal. A week having had passed since that pleasant surprise of a meal, she'd found that she trusted the folks' integrity and soon had decided, and was welcomed, to live there. Although, gossiping was a favorite pastime of the village, but they had enough heart to never cut one short or play them as a fool, and that alone exceeded the bluenette's expectation of any person. As she stepped over a bulging bump in the tricky trail, she silently thanked her stars for happening upon the isolated place. The pretentious people in the inlands of Mallowcrest were quite the opposite, anyway.

Mentally ending her trip down memory lane, the dolled-up maiden sprung onward to the stall, her pigtails bobbing up and down in a rather cute manner, the bluenette felt. She calmed to a leisurely walk as she neared her giggling friends and then called out a "good afternoon" to the three girls.

The maidens turned, smiles still plastered on their faces; whatever they'd been gossiping about must've been rich because Alya, her good friend, had forthwith ran up to her.

"Hello, Mary!"the brunette greeted, taking hold of Mary's hands and prancing her over to the flower stand excitedly. "Rose found the most beautiful flowers! You wouldn't believe!"

"Hoping to get me to buy some?" the bluenette joked. "Really, you should be running the stall yourself, Alya!"

"Ah, yes chickens and flowers do go together, don't they?" With a smile, the poultry man's daughter answered in a matching tone, her honey eyes twinkling  amusedly.

The three were dressed as humbly as they could've, wearing simple gowns of inexpensive, earthy colors.  Mary felt a little overdressed in that moment, but she shrugged away her concern when Rose and Juleka greeted her.

"Afternoon, Mary," piped Rose sweetly. She had big blue eyes like that of a doll's and her blond hair was shortened to a boyish length, only accentuating her eyes.

Juleka waved silently beside Rose, her eyes of deep amber looking on friendlily through her dark bangs, which she constantly swept behind her ear. She was more the quiet one of the group although not shy like Rose sometimes was.

The four were the bachelorettes of the village, and bluenette felt that perhaps that was why she so enjoyed their company. Men can be pigs.

"And where's Mylène?" Mary questioned, after having addressed all present, her gaze glimpsing around for the stout lady she had seen merely minutes before as Margaret.

"She went to see Ivan. What else is she to do? Oh, they're just the couple!" The outburst of joy came from Alya, who seemed well ready to jump out of her skin. "I'll say, they'll be the happiest of Adelaveth!" She jittered in her place, her hands shaking Mary's own with each little jig she performed.

"Don't upset their luck!" Rose peeped from behind the stall as her azure eyes flashed in warning. The petite girl then proceeded to knock on the tree right by the stand, solemnly mewing under her breath.

Alya at last let go of her friend's hands, only to clasp them over her rambling mouth that had dared to expect too much. The brunette gasped before continuing frantically, "Ah! May Adelef bless them!" She began to skitter over to the tree as well to undo any damage her words might've caused, but her dress tangled with her feet and the brunette nearly fell into the dirt. Luckily, Mary caught her.

After having set her friend back up, Mary tilted her head, amused. "You're acting like quite the jongleur." A smirked skewed across her features as her friend reddened a bit. "Perhaps someone's inspired you?"

"Ah, forget him! He never came back!" The blushing brunette shook her head, denying having any affection for the "someone" her friend had mentioned. "No matter how handsome! I have no care for him!" With that, Alya crossed her arms and gave a swift nod as if to convince herself.

"I'd think otherwise," Juleka spoke, always quick to tease, from where she leaned on the stand, elbows propped onto its table surface. She snickered, unladylike; she never was the one to care about being the perfect maiden, and Mary found that somewhat respectable. From the joking girl's side, Rose giggled softly.

    Step, step, step, step.

    They all turned around to find Mylène and Ivan, who'd just arrived. Mylène appeared to be practically drowning in joy. Perhaps it was a matter of love. Mary smiled; she was happy for them but she couldn't help but feel that love was... overvalued. But the maidens' thoughts were disillusioned when the couple suddenly burst with good news.

    "Friends! There is a traveller!" Mylène exclaimed.

    Alya gasped in disbelief. "Coming here?"

    "She should only be awhile away now," Ivan added, twisting around to look back at the main path. Mary smiled, listening quietly as Alya squealed.

    Rose spoke up. "I hope she buys some flowers!" She readjusted a few of stems.

    "Does the rest of the village know?" Juleka asked, eyes wide. The engaged couple shook their heads.

    "Well, I'm not leaving. I mustn't miss the chance to meet the newcomer!" Alya clapped excitedly at the aspiration.

    "I could go inform my parents; they'd be happy to let the village know," Rose suggested. The rest of the group nodded and encouraged her to do so, and she pranced off.

    The others waited eagerly, staring up the pathway and exchanging their excitement about the matter. Rose was back soon enough to catch the first glimpse of the traveler striding down the street.

    She had her honey blonde hair pulled into a braid that swished behind her back, and her dress brushed the ground as she moved. A rather bulky bag sat on her shoulder. Strangely enough, a black cat trotted by her side.

    A gasp pierced the air and the group tore their eyes away from the newcomer to find that Rose was back. She gawked before squeaking in a hushed voice, "She brings bad luck by her side!" She muttered her prayers for the poor girl.

    And that was it. The first sign.

Mary narrowed her gaze on the cat. Now isn't that interesting?

    "Oh, calm down, Rose. It's only a pet." Alya batted the air with her hand.

"It's rude to stare. We should greet her," Mylène commented as she began smiling and waving at the girl. Ivan waved as well.

The stranger was then a couple meters from the stall. Rose called sweetly, "Afternoon!"

"Afternoon!" she greeted grandly. She beamed at the group, exchanging names with the maidens as she closed in before noticing the flowers for sale. "My, aren't these a beautiful sight for tired eyes!" She swooped one of them up and inhaled its candied fragrance, savoring the scent with a sigh before placing it back among the flora.

"Would you like that one? It's only three flowers for every mark," Juleka said.

"Did you mean crescent?" Ariel smirked as she picked out three flowers and pressed a few coins into the palm of Juleka's hand. They each had a single crescent moon etched into them. It was their mark. Although people had their preferences, it was common knowledge that marks and crescents were the same. Crescent was the more sophisticated term, though.

The people nearest Castle Mallowcrest often used "crescent." It was a small detail, but it bothered the bluenette enough for her to inquire about it. Marinette opened her mouth to speak. "So, where are you from?"

"Oh, you know... around. One of the neighboring villages. It's on the outskirts, just like this one. It's not of much importance."

And that was the second sign.

Mary laughed uneasily, furrowing her eyebrows as she turned to her friends, who did not seem phased in the slightest. That is, until the newcomer next opened up her mouth.

"What's your name?" she purred, looking directly at Ivan. The maiden folded her hands in front of her and leaned forward as she took a step closer to him, looking up and still smiling as she showed off her pearly whites among... other things. Everyone knew what she was doing. Mylène stood still as the statue of Adelef the God of Luck at the center of the village, dumbfounded for a second and in the process of blinking away her disbelief.

Ivan was also blinking repeatedly as he desperately avoided the maiden's gaze. "I-It's Ivan, ma'am. Yep." He looked down for a second then back up at a random tree. His face was beginning to tint red. And so was Mylène's. But... in an entirely different way.

Mary could just feel the waves of pure, unadulterated hatred just radiating off of the girl.

"Well, aren't you quite the tall one?" Ariel continued. She jerked her head slightly to the side, averting her green gaze from his for a second, and snorted before recomposing herself, rolling her shoulders and taking a deep breath. Her cat strolled around the edge of her dress, rubbing its pelt against the fabric and purring. The feline then yowled at her as she opened her mouth to speak again, and the blonde just broke down in a fit of giggles. But it wasn't long before she was chuckling in the most unflattering, unladylike manner possible.

The rest of the villagers, who'd begun to gather around, exiting their homes and approaching the newcomer, watched the scene with kind gazes. The small group of friends, however, were beyond the point of confusion.

Ariel wiped a tear from her eye as she gave a final sigh and said, "I'm sorry. That was just too rich." She turned to Mylène. Upon seeing the seething look on her face, she asked earnestly, her smile dropping, "Are you by any chance involved with this man?"

Mylène deadpanned. "Yes."

"Oh." Another snort burst from her nose, and she snickered silently for a short second. She struggled to keep a straight face. "Sorry about that. I had no idea."

Mary watched, unamused.What in the blazes is wrong with her?

"Well," Rose began with a clap, breaking the silence and commanding everyone's attention before giving Alya a quick glare, "welcome to Butterfly Village!"

The villagers around them broke out in a cheer, deciding it fine to swarm around the newcomer and ask her questions of how long she was to stay and if she wanted to buy this or that or the other. The green skirt of Ariel's dress twirled as she twisted and turned to try her best to answer them all.

Her dress was green. You can only purchase dyes from areas closer to the castle, if I'm not mistaken. It was another small detail that reinforced the bluenette's doubts.

That was the third sign.

She watched as Rose pulled Alya aside and scolded her for "upsetting Mylène's and Ivan's luck," and as Mylène herself dragged her fiancé off by the hand. He was definitely going to get a reprimanding. But she knew they'd be fine. Mylène wasn't the type to end something for a light and transient reason. Ivan would need to exercise prudence if he wanted to keep her.

But she guessed it wasn't so much his fault as it was Alya's for supposedly "upsetting their luck."

The villagers began shuffling towards the pub, beckoning for Ariel to follow. The maiden stopped for a second in front of a nice looking lady and bowed to her with a smile before freezing for a second and quickly doing a curtsy, and the blonde held the door for her before following her inside. Her cat prowled in after her. Really, the cat hadn't ever left her side even once since the bluenette had laid eyes on her. Almost like a familiar.

Those mistakes, however, did not go unnoticed. The bluenette frowned as she put the pieces together. To her, it was obvious. That's not her true form.