"My father," he started again, "was a murderer. He was a terrorist, and he hurt so many more people in his lifetime than I think he ever anticipated." He paused, his eyebrows furrowing even more. He cleared his throat. "But he was still my father, despite the fact that in some ways - in most ways - he wasn't there for me. And even though I knew before all of this that he was imperfect and cruel, I still hoped he would find love and happiness amid all his cold detachment. I still hoped he would one day learn to love unconditionally. "I don't know if Paris can forgive him, and I don't know if I can forgive him. But I do know that I cannot spend the rest of my life hating a dead man, nor can I spend the rest of my life loving the ghost of what my father could have been." He stopped, clearing his throat and absently smoothing down his hair. "I have to live with the legacy of what my father has done, and that kills me. We all have to live in a world without the people that he took from us, and that kills us all. "But even still," he said, a tear finally tearing down from his glassy eyes, "I can't help but miss him, even knowing what he was. He was my father. I hate him, and I love him all in the same heart. He was my father."
— Bone Tea, a Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir fanfiction by @peachcitt.
Read it on AO3
