Chapter Text
Growing up with headaches wasn’t easy, especially not when those headaches give you glimpses of the future.
Your first “vision” occurred back when you were eight.
It was nothing special now that you think about it, but at the time it seemed revolutionary. At the time you had been wandering outside pretending to be a wizard, making “potions” and such. Meanwhile your father was up on the roof, trying to fix a loose shingle in the home he had built years ago.
As you watched in awe while he stood on his ladder, you quickly felt a knot in your stomach and a pang in your head. Vision spotting, you couldn’t help but drop to your knees, hands gripping your hair as the pain became overbearing. Blacking out, your brain conjured up flashes of images, images you didn’t quite understand.
In the first one, your father was searching for the hammer he had previously been using.
The second one, he saw it out of his reach.
And the third, the empty ladder.
The headache disappeared as quickly as it arrived, your vision coming back into focus. Mind racing, you were left to wonder what exactly happened.
Your stomach twisted as you thought about the implication of the images.
Those were just thoughts, right? Nothing was really going to happen to your dad, no doubt.
You turned to look at him once more. It was just a weird moment, that’s all. Just a silly moment conjured up from your eight year old brain, nothing more.
Unfortunately, you were wrong.
The upside was that your dad was (mostly) alright! The downside was that your dad now had a broken ankle and a fractured collarbone.
After a few more occurrences like this, you decided to come clean about this to the only person who you felt may understand: your mother.
-
After your ninth birthday, you decided you wanted to come clean. Telling your mother about your “visions” wasn’t easy. Granted, you also didn’t exactly have the best timing.
Your mom had been baking an apple pie for your upcoming visit to your Aunt’s house, since you two typically would visit her every few weeks. At the time, you felt like you had to tell her before you lost the nerve. The thought of keeping these premonitions a secret for the rest of your life was too much pressure for your nine year old self to handle.
You walked up to her, fiddling with the sleeve of your sweater nervously. “Mom, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course! What’s going on kiddo? Are you feeling alright?” She asked, raising an eyebrow when she saw the anxious expression you wore.
“I’ve been having… headaches.”
“There’s some Advil in the cabinet if you want any, just make sure you eat something before you take one. I don’t want you feeling sick before we go see your Aunt Martha.” She said dismissively, focusing on the unbaked pie in front of her.
You frowned at her words, realizing you’d have to tell her details for her to understand. Part of you felt worried, afraid of being perceived as crazy by your own mother. “No mom, like I’ve been seeing things.”
She paused, her movements freezing as she slowly turned to look at you. “Seeing things? What do you mean?”
You averted your gaze, shuffling backwards in embarrassment. “Sometimes… my head hurts and I see things before they happen. Just… pictures. Like when dad fell off the roof, I saw the hammer too far out of his reach and then I saw the empty ladder.”
Your mom stared at you, eyes wide, pie momentarily forgotten. For a second, you thought she might laugh, or worse, tell you to stop making things up. Instead, she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly through her nose before wiping her hands on her apron and crouching down to your level
“You saw all that... before it happened?”
You nodded, chewing your lip. “I didn’t know what it meant at first. But then it happened. Just like I saw.”
Your mom reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. She looked at you differently then—not with fear, not with skepticism, but with something else. Recognition.
“I was hoping it would skip a generation,” she murmured.
You blinked. “Skip what?”
She stood up again, glancing toward the hallway where the photo of Aunt Martha hung. “We’ll talk more about this later. For now, let’s just finish packing up. Your Aunt Martha’s going to want to hear this.”
-
You didn’t know what she was talking about until you and your mom arrived at your aunt’s countryside cottage. Your father remained at home, your mother explained the situation to him through hushed whispers while you stood outside the door.
As you two arrived, your gaze landed on your Aunt, who was standing outside and tending to her garden. Your Aunt was certainly an interesting individual, to say the least. Her long black hair was always in a bun, stray hairs always managing to fall in her face. She wore these oversized glasses that constantly slipped down her nose, which never failed to make you chuckle. She had an awful habit of dressing like an old woman, her closet full of cardigans and ankle-length skirts.
Despite her appearance, she always had an outwardly youthful personality. Eccentric was one term used to describe her, as she was always collecting strange paintings and old books. She would talk about her interests with endless excitement, never seeming to run out of breath. The way she would look at you always caused you to smile, the twinkle in her eye never fading.
She smiled as you and your mother pulled into her driveway, excited to see you two. After you two said your hellos, your mother handed you her purse and suggested you take it inside the house. As you walked away, you heard your mother speak slowly. “Martha, she’s having them.”
Martha nodded, glancing at you as you walked inside. They were quick to follow, as you heard your Aunt whisper to your mother that she’s handling it.
They beckoned you into the living room, having you sit across from Martha as you held your mother’s hand. Your mother remained expressionless, obviously trying to avoid appearing as panicked as she felt.
Your Aunt, on the other hand, remained calm. Her gaze, sharp and clear behind her reading glasses, shifted to you instantly. But the look she gave you wasn’t confusion or fear. It was knowing. Something old and hidden flickered behind her gaze.
“Tell me everything.”
You did. About the ladder. The hammer. The pain. The fall.
She didn’t interrupt, not even once. But as you spoke, her expression slowly shifted—brows furrowing, shoulders straightening. Not out of surprise... but something deeper. She looked at your mom, who frowned and nodded. With a sigh, your mom averted her eyes. “I didn’t know what else to do. You’re the only one who’s dealt with this before.”
Martha dropped her gaze. “I stopped having visions about nine years ago,” she said quietly. “They came often when I was younger—short flashes, warnings, truths I wasn’t always ready to see. But one day, they just... vanished. Like a switch was flipped.”
“That was the same year you were born.”
You paused, listening to your Aunt’s words. Half of you had a hard time believing her words- the other half was relieved to have someone finally understand you. “You had visions too?” You asked quietly.
She sighed and nodded, giving you a weary smile. “I did. So did your grandfather and his mother before him.”
Your mother ran a hand through her hair nervously before leaving the room. You could tell she was stressed out by this whole ordeal.
“So what does this mean? Is it normal?” You frowned.
She shook her head subtly, her eyes lighting up for a moment as she smiled. “Nope, it means you’re special. Follow me.”
She stood up, beckoning for you over as she made her way down a hallway. As you trailed behind her, you looked up at the various paintings and decorations that hung on her wall. Your aunt was always a bit of a history nerd, but until now you never gave it a second thought.
Eventually, you two made your way into her room. You raised an eyebrow once you saw her reaching under her bed.
“Uh, Aunt Ma-”
“You’ll see. Be patient.” She interrupted, pulling a locked box out from under her bed.
The box itself appeared old, yet deeply cared for. It had a thin layer of dust coating the top, but it looked nearly pristine despite its obvious age. It was a simple wooden box, nothing particularly noteworthy aside from the silver lock holding it shut. The lock itself was hefty, adorned with decorative engravings and a single feather imprint on the back.
Martha gave the box a warm smile, a glint of familiarity in her eyes as she pulled out a key that was conveniently in her pocket. “I’ve had this box ever since I was about your age. It’s been passed down for generations, and now it might be your turn to have it.”
She unlocked it with a click, unveiling a smaller jewelry box inside. Wooden as well, this one was plain, but you felt a strange energy coming from the box. Frowning, you whispered, “What is it?”
Your Aunt cleared her throat. “Inside this box lies a necklace, called a Miraculous. I wore it once, back when this city needed a hero. Of course the time for that has passed, and it looks like it’s chosen a new holder.”
Your eyes widened in surprise. For a second, you thought she was just messing with you. You could hardly imagine it after all. Your Aunt? A hero? What the hell was she talking about?
You looked at her in disbelief. “What do you mean a hero? Aunt Martha, what are you talking about? Superheroes aren’t real.”
Martha just chuckled and shook her head. “That’s because we worked in the shadows, kiddo. Trust me, if the public caught sight of us, that would be a world of trouble.”
You simply looked at her with further exasperation, but let her continue.
“This is the Owl Miraculous, protected by our family for generations. It wields the power of foresight and wisdom, which would explain the visions that each generation has.” She snickered, “Your mother wasn’t given the same visions we do, and she considers it a blessing. Unfortunately, it looks like the power refuses to skip a generation. That’s why she brought you here as soon as you told her.”
Your mind was racing. Powers? Your Aunt had powers? What does all of this mean? So your mother didn’t have it at all- this was all too confusing for your small 9 year-old mind. You looked up at your aunt, but before you could speak, she quickly covered your mouth in a playful manner. “You’ll learn with time, just let me explain.”
She opened the box and took out a gorgeous silver necklace- one with the charm of an owl, whose wings were in front of it in a protective manner.
“This necklace will grant you the ability to become a hero. Once you put it on, you’ll have a guide appear and she’ll show you how it works. For now, I’ll tell you what you need to know, Alright?”
You gave a small nod as she continued.
“A long time ago, Your grandfather gave this necklace to me when I was your age. He told me not to open the box until I was sure I was ready and I needed to act. Of course, I didn’t listen and I put it on the very next day. That’s when I met Nocta, my guide. She led me through my training until the day that the city needed a hero. After years of being one, my time had passed and I decided to step down, becoming its guardian.”
She closed her eyes and closed the box, locking it up and holding it out to you. “Now it’s your turn. I need you to guard this necklace with your life. Your mother may think you’re too young for this responsibility, but if the Miraculous says it’s your time, then I can’t defy it.”
You gazed at the box fearfully. All you did was tell your mom about your visions, that’s it. Now you were being thrust into some sort of passed-down legacy? As cool as it sounded, you didn’t want anything to do with this. You just wanted to be a normal kid.
“Aunt Martha… I don’t think I want it. Not now. Maybe you could give it to my mom?”
Your aunt visibly deflated. “Kiddo, this isn’t up to me. If you’ve had these visions for the past year, then it means that the miraculous has chosen you. I can't force you to take it, but I’ll tell you this: It’ll find you when you’re ready, alright?”
You faltered at her expression. You didn’t want your Aunt to be disappointed in you, but what other choice did you have? You didn’t want it.
She sighed and began to put the box back under her bed. “I’ll let your mom know that she can stop worrying.” She gave you a half-hearted smile as she stood up and ruffled your hair. “She’s clearly raised her daughter to have a good head on her shoulders.”
She smiled as she ushered you out of the room, pulling your mother- who was sitting anxiously in the dining room- aside to talk privately.
Sitting alone in the living room, you thought about your decision. What were you supposed to do? You were only 9 years old, and these stupid visions were robbing you of your childhood.
Your lip quivered as you held back stray tears. Why were you so upset over telling your Aunt no? Was it guilt? Was it disappointment?
You shook your head as you were unable to discern why you felt like crying. Holding back tears, you took a deep breath as you sat alone, waiting for your mom to come back.
After roughly 20 minutes, your mother and aunt came back, neither of them appearing upset. Your mother in particular wore a warm smile, ruffling your hair with a chuckle. “Alright kiddo, let’s go home.”
-
The drive back to your house was silent, neither of you acknowledging your Aunt’s offer- at least, not until your mother spoke up.
Glancing at you out of the corner of her eye, your mother smiled. “Y'know, we’re not mad at you for saying no. It’s your choice after all, and it’ll always be there when you’re ready.”