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Nathalie Sancoeur had never been meant to be a mother.
Except no that’s not quite true; because there had been a time that had been the future path her father had planned to carve out for her. Back when Nathalie was a squalling infant, back when he had considered bestowing his name on her it would have seemed obvious that an heir must beget an heir of their own.
At that point she had not yet disappointed him. Her facility with languages had been as requested, if after a concerning stumbling block at first when she had used Italian and English and French words interchangeably in melange-sentences her monolingual, chosen for their perfect native speaker accents, caretakers had struggled to understand.
Her physical statistics had been ideal. Tall, athletic, flexible. She’d taken to martial arts like she’d been born to do them. Just as she’d been designed to.
Her academics-
Her academics were good. She’d had as brilliant a memory as anyone could ask for and a work ethic they hadn’t even needed to beat into her. Only that hard work was the very issue, because she hadn’t been meant to have to work. She’d been meant to be a prodigy.
She’d thought it unfair at the time. She passed every exam each year with top grades; she wanted to scream out what more did they want from her?
Now she looks at Felix graduating university before he was even a teenager. She looks at the boy in Adrien’s class who the Council’s Machine had stolen the programming for a space shuttle from rather than having her multinational company develop it. She finally, belatedly, sees what she had been meant to be.
Even her father had graduated early, and she’d been a regression in comparison, rather than the progression of their line she’d been meant to be.
Her appearance had been an disappointment. She wasn’t actually ugly her father had admitted once. But she had been meant to be beautiful and she wasn’t beautiful.
Her eyes drooped too much at the ends. Her lips were too thin- not even small in the ways cultures that valued smaller lips preferred. Her chest was too flat. Something that might have been forgivable given her athletic ability and the benefits it brought there. But she didn’t have the narrow hips of that type of skinny model ideal she might have been able to claim membership of otherwise, even with nearly no fat on her they were too wide; her bones stubbornly sticking outwards in that way that demanded generous breasts able to balance them out. That she was pale was not necessarily a disaster but the bright red she went under the sun, or when embarrassed, or when she drank was. Even her nailbeds were apparently too short.
She hadn’t needed to meet Emilie or to organise thousands of models over the years to understand the truth of the shortcomings of her appearance and what she wasn’t but she had done all of that and it had certainly reinforced her self-awareness of it.
Nathalie Sancoeur had never been meant to be a mother.
Failed experiments in eugenics were not meant to reproduce. Everyone had been in agreement on that.
No one had hidden that from her. She walked into that hospital under her own power and been told exactly what they planned to do, and the benefits of it to her; no periods, reduced parts that cancer could sprout in, and of course no chance of pregnancy.
Many woman would envy you, a nurse had told her, perhaps under the impression that Nathalie had been frightened and needed comfort. The woman’s smile had been a little too bright like she didn’t quite believe what she was saying. Even Nathalie had recognised that and her lack of social adeptness had been one of her many disappointments.
And men will be delighted with you, a man she’d only known from how he trailed behind her father had smirked. She hadn’t really understand that then. She hadn’t planned to get involved with many men, hadn’t understood why anyone would even want to. Not until years later. Not until she’d met Gabriel.
When they’d wheeled her into the hospital for the hysterectomy she’d known what she was losing and she had never thought to blame them for it. She wasn’t planning to become a mother either. It was as they said convenient for her to have it done. Even now she still doesn’t regret that operation. She’s still glad of it.
The only part that had concerned her was the downtime during her recovery. She’s not someone that does well doing nothing, never has been. She’s always known she needed to justify her place, her life.
That’s why she’d found ways to make that recovery time useful too, and had never thought that years later she’d be in the same place stuck in bed and only able to research while others went out and did things again
Sometimes she’s surprised that she was allowed to live. But then even a failed experiment can still leave behind something useful. She hadn’t been the child they wanted but she could be a tool.
Ironically they’d left her her ovaries.
There had been, she understands, consideration of taking them. Of having her eggs ready for extraction and study to see if they carried the selfsame faults she did. Of having building blocks for embryos for their experiments. The dangers of early menopause had stayed their hand.
It would have wrecked her utility to weaken her bones, to possibly disrupt her emotional equilibrium, and even the short-term risk of damage to her memory could not be deemed acceptable.
She hates herself to this day that she finds herself thankful to them for that as if they made that decision for her sake and not for their own.
She hates that it might have been the whispers of the Miraculous, and how well they had matched up to her skillset as she had finally been doing something that she believed she’d chosen herself in studying archaeology at university, that might have saved her.
It makes sense that a mistake might be let live, might have her health prioritised, when doing that means she might be able to help find the replacement process for generating the perfect child she failed to be.
She doesn’t want to be thankful to the Miraculous. Not for saving her from an early menopause then, or from death now.
Resurrection or not the Miraculous killed her.
Restoration by Ladybug or not the Miraculous have wrecked Paris.
Reproduction made possible or not the Miraculous tore apart the family created so.
Ideally Nathalie would prefer to destroy the Miraculous jewels, the kwamis collateral damage as their energy took its original form and flew off through space, rather than have to serve them.
But then Nathalie is quite used to poisoned bargains she wasn’t asked to agree to. Just as with her father what gives her life demands her life revolves around them.
Even apparently after letting her die once.
They did bring her back after all. She can’t forget that as the girl who wears one half of that pair talks to her like they’re a team.
Nathalie Sancoeur had never been meant to be a mother.
Gabriel had apparently disagreed. She’d never understood that. She’d thought that he knew what she was. Why she had no life of her own and only existed as a shadow of his.
But once in atelier sat against her desk with his head in his hands in despair he’d looked up at her when she entered and told her that she’d be a wonderful mother one day and he’d meant it, a fondness for her softening the grief-in-advance that made harsh planes of his face.
She hadn’t even known that he’d heard her speaking to Adrien.
Or how he could possibly think that one data point meant something, especially compared to the many many times she’d avoided Adrien and his incomprehensible babble only Emilie and Gabriel could make sense of back when the boy was a toddler.
That now he was old enough that she could have some idea how to talk to him that she’d used her distance from the situation to be able to offer some of the comfort that his father, drowning in his own self-recrimination for failing the love of his life and the terror of losing her, meant nothing.
It meant at best that she was capable of thinking of other people. Which had admittedly somewhat come to as a shock to her. Sympathy was a rot, her father had told her once. Best ripped out before it destroyed the whole. Her apparent lack of it had been one of the only ways she hadn’t disappointed him even as others had tutted over her being too cold as a child.
That care for at least one other person, or more honestly two, or perhaps even three, had crept into the cavity where her heart should be was something she blamed Adrien’s parents for. It was impossible to watch people who felt as deeply as they did, as deeply as Adrien also did, and not be affected.
Really she should have been thinking about how Gabriel could possibly recognise what she was doing as what a parent should and show no guilt over the fact he wasn’t doing it himself, nor make no movement to go do it, or even talk to his son at all.
She’d excused it as she always had back then. She really had believed that one day Gabriel would be able to tell his son yes, that he’d found the solutions and that everything would fix itself.
Gabriel didn’t fail, and Nathalie had only failed in being herself, and they had the might of the Council behind them. She’d never thought they wouldn’t win.
But hindsight was a wonderful thing.
And even now she wondered what Gabriel had meant back then, if it had meant anything, or just been an off-hand comment. If he had really thought that in that happy ending they’d been supposed to grasp for themselves that after healing Emilie she’d go off and have her own family.
It’s irrational but in her darkest imaginings, the ones where Gabriel had made good on those promises his body had made hers and had in the deepest night in his (or her, but that was his too really anyway,) bedroom ( or in bright daylight of his atelier) and unified them both she’d been sure that unlike what her father’s assistant had said all those years ago he wouldn’t have been happy to know she was neutered, that her body was even less capable of harbouring life than Emilie’s.
That maybe he’d be thinking of a little boy or girl that looked almost as like her as Adrien did Emilie but with his eyes or his height, or his warm skin tone.
But that’s her extrapolating from datapoints that don’t even exist, worse even than Gabriel ever had been and inexplicably too when she doesn’t even want to go through pregnancy, when she’d never understood Emilie’s yearnings for it.
Besides he hadn’t needed to even kiss her in his attempt to make her the mother of his child. No, he’d just dived into death after Emilie and chose to push her and not his wife back out into the land of the living to look after Adrien.
Because it’s pretty clear that’s what Gabriel’s aim had been when he made that Wish even if she could argue with herself all day and night over why the reasons he’d made that decision.
But Gabriel hadn’t been working with all the data. Just like he hadn’t known that she couldn’t have children naturally he also hadn’t known that Wheat was her father, and of what had been tried to create perfect children before the Miraculous.
And that Adrien could not be safe with her.
Nathalie Sancoeur had never been meant to be a mother.
Ladybug-- Marinette – apparently disagrees.
She’d seen Adrien become an orphan and either convinced by Gabriel or by something, though Nathalie can’t think what, Adrien himself has said to her about Nathalie she thinks Nathalie is the solution to that.
That’s why Nathalie isn’t in prison. Why Nathalie had been kept out of prison. It’s true that Gabriel’s manipulation of the girl into keeping his crimes secret would have made it difficult for her to expose Nathalie to the punishment she deserves but it’s not impossible.
Not at all. Not when Monarch had apparently taken control of Gabriel’s product and threatened his son. Who could have let him in as easily as Gabriel Agreste’s coldhearted stuck-up assistant, the one who’d survived his sacrifice taking down the supervillain who’d terrorised the city with nary a mark to show on her?
But then Marinette wouldn’t think of that sort of thing. She’s creative obviously, and knows how to work with what’s she’s given. Nathalie would never be able to work out half the Lucky Charms Ladybug gets even though she’s been studying the Miraculous and how they work since before Marinette was even born.
Where Nathalie could beat her easily is in terms of vindictiveness. Oh Marinette can get angry, she’s seen her turn that on Gabriel. The girl might even be able to hold a grudge – she’s a girl not an angel whatever her fans might think of Ladybug.
But she’s not vicious; she fantasises about defeating her enemies not hurting them, and it’s terrifying how willing, how desperate she is to believe the best in her opponents like she can force the world to be better by sheer force of personality.
Some people might find it impressive. Nathalie finds it hubris.
Marinette barely knows her. She has no reason to think Nathalie would make a good mother to Adrien. No reason to believe that Nathalie isn’t lying about not being at Gabriel’s side to the end. No knowledge even of the other options Adrien has.
It’s true that Nathalie doesn’t want to hurt Marinette. And that Nathalie doesn’t want to hurt Adrien. And that Nathalie would give her life for Adrien.
It’s also true that Nathalie is reporting to a council of people whose aim is to take Marinette’s Miraculous and that she’s not even warned the girl of the Council’s existence , never mind that she’s working for them.
Of course she’s lying to them to.
That counts for something? Maybe? She’s not really sure.
Gabriel had saved her in the end and died himself in the process and Nathalie still can’t untangle how she feels about that.
Maybe Marinette won’t be able to either when Nathalie follows his example.
If she ever figures it out that’s what Nathalie’s done.
Nathalie can’t risk leaving any warning behind and having Ladybug find out too early and try to convince her that it doesn’t have to be like this. She can’t risk it when the new user of the Butterfly Miraculous seems to know things about them that they shouldn’t and Nathalie can’t remember why- can’t work out how they knew where and when to grab that Miraculous in the first place. She can’t risk it when Gabriel let himself become more and more enmeshed in Tomoe’s technology over the years and she doesn’t know how much of the house is watching her every move and reporting it back to the woman she’s supposed to be serving now.
Marinette might figure it out. Ladybug is smart after all. And she’s latched onto Nathalie enough that she’ll want to see the conflagration she plans to create as a good thing.
She might even mourn Nathalie. The girl has got used to having Nathalie there, having Nathalie knowing. But at least Marinette has her own family, her own mother. Nathalie’s absence for Marinette-
-the worst thing about it is that it will lose the girl Adrien. Without Nathalie here to supervise him Adrien’s family will move more quickly and take Adrien away from Paris and any from Marinette.
And Nathalie sympathises she really does. What Gabriel did keeping the kids apart from each other was wrong. But they’ll have more chances as they get older and can travel to visit each other again and keeping Adrien and Marinette alive and free has to supersede keeping them together in importance.
Nathalie Sancoeur had never been meant to be a mother.
It’s ironic then that though she can’t have children she’s part of how three of them were brought into the world.
That when she leaves this world eventually, and it won’t be too long now until then, that will be her legacy. It might be the only good thing she’s done.
She isn’t a good person, but because of her there are at least two good people out there and…it would be hypocritical of her to be too judgemental of Félix. Especially when it’s quite possible that she’s just jealous of him for managing to break his chains, for managing to kill his father, when she’s never been brave enough to.
Until now. Because now it’s necessary. Gabriel might have been-
Gabriel wasn’t the man she’d thought he was.
That’s a nice simple, true, way of putting it that stops her from loosing hours berating herself and loosing her mind over him and not realising how long she’s been at it until Adrien announces he’s back from school.
But he had at least always been a bulwark between the children and the Council. He had at first, and even then again at the end in his twisted way, wanted the best for Adrien. He wasn’t her father. He wasn’t Colt.
And as long as they had trusted him to fulfil his quest the Council had all been satisfied to leave the children to their parents to raise.
But he’s gone now. And he’s left Adrien in Nathalie’s care. And Nathalie will do anything for Adrien. Even if that means locking the doors behind those who conspired in his creation and killing them all and herself.
Nathalie Sancoeur isn’t the mother of any of the children created by the Peacock Miraculous but she can be their liberator.
Adrien would still ask her not to.
It’s obvious in how he looks at her. In how even as a child when he’d barely known her he’d asked if Daddy and Nathalie were going to stay for his birthday. In how he purposely sits by her for lunch. In how he asks her questions and values her opinion. In how he’d smiled back when Gabriel had invited her to breakfast with them, how he’d smiled when he’d spotted his mother’s ring on her finger.
Adrien loves her.
And Nathalie loves him. But she doesn’t know how to love him. She wasn’t made like that. Wasn’t brought up to do that. She wasn’t expected to be caring just efficient. She isn’t Emilie.
But she can save him. She’s going to save him. And to stop that destroying him she cannot be his mother.
So she doesn’t hug back when he clings to her like she’s all he has. She’s stays professional not maternal.
She has an out. His grandparents are coming for him. Both sets. They’re not good options for him- neither of them, he’d hate living with the Graham de Vanilys but they have the wealth and status to be a fortress protecting him, and if it wasn’t for his friends and girlfriend he’d likely love living with Grassettes but they have no power and can’t keep him safe.
Not until Nathalie takes out the threats to him.
Marinette and Gabriel and oh Emilie too would all judge her if they knew the relief that guiltily squirms in her stomach when his grandparents arrive and she knows that soon that umbilical cord will be snipped; that no one will expect her to be any kind of mother to Adrien any more.
Until the akumatisation. Until his grandmother trots out some saying that Jagged Stone had definitely never uttered and it turns out-
That Nathalie Sancoeur is a mother.
She didn’t ask to be one. She didn’t mean to be one. But she is.
Adrien’s decided that she is.
And that fact makes all her plans crumble into dust. Adrien’s arms around her trap her on this earth. She’s not meant to be Adrien’s mother. She think of herself as Adrien’s mother, and she doesn’t deserve to be Adrien’s mother.
But to Adrien she is anyway.
And Nathalie had found a Miraculous and made Emilie a mother and stole her away from her son in one fell swoop. She’d let Gabriel abdicate his responsibility as a father and turn into a monster and been unable to reach him and pull him back.
And means that she can’t take another parent away from him even if that parent is her.
When she hugs him back it’s not joy she feels. The acceptance she makes in returning his gesture are her arms building her own jail cell. It’s only long conditioning that stops them shaking as they do so.
Her plans drift away on the wind and she has no idea what she’s going to do or how she is going to save Adrien and his girlfriend anymore. She’ll manage somehow. She has to. Only she has no idea how.
She wonders if this is how Emilie had felt when she’d seen Adrien’s scrunched up newborn red face.
If this is what being a mother feels like.