Chapter Text
Powered by anger and magic, Astro Cat soared through the night sky, his edges illuminated by the moonlight, even bright way up above the clouds.
Flying like this took longer without Ladybug. With her by his side, he could travel around the world and not notice the journey. But right now, the only company he had were his thoughts, each one making his stomach twist a little harder.
Travelling to Mount Olympus…. What an idea.
But was it his?
Was any of this an act of rebellion? Or was he only doing this because someone had written it that way? And if he turned back now…would that be his choice? How did he know what was truly him?
And what about the people around him? Were they in charge of their own lives? Or were they also no more than characters thought up in some room, their whole path plotted and outlined by some creative power?
Was he even entitled to harbour so much rage for his father? After all, if his father was just another puppet…was he really to blame for his actions? Was anyone?
God, maybe they were all like akuma victims – used and controlled and then discarded without thought. Maybe nothing they felt was their own. Maybe Marinette….
Maybe she only loved him because she had to. Because she’d been designed that way.
The sickness started rising up his throat, and he shoved it down, his eyes misting over with tears while his visor misted with clouds. They’d grown thicker without him noticing, a dense blanket of white arranged in a way that made his breath catch. It looked – it looked deliberate. Like someone had swept all the condensation into one area with the purpose of hiding something.
I’m here. The thought was so clear in his mind, certainty giving him the strength to carry on forward, despite the aching exhaustion in his muscles. Although the magic gave him super strength, and the helmet shielded him from the thinning air and the cold, he’d been flying a long time without a break. Now, it was time to stop.
With one more burst of energy, he surged forward, bursting through the clouds – then letting out a cry as the building came into sight. His heart pounded, shock waking him up. Only now did he realise he hadn’t actually expected to find up here. Why the hell would there be a building at the top of Mount Olympus?
Yet there it was, growing larger and clearer as he drew nearer.
The architecture didn’t look Greek. There were no decorative columns. No carvings. It didn’t resemble any temple he’d ever seen. It looked more like an – an office building.
An office building! At the top of Mount Olympus!
He trembled as he flew, slowing as much as he could without falling, then landing on all fours atop the rough peak. It wasn’t his smoothest landing, because he was shaking, his nerves on fire as he lifted his head and took in the view.
At ground level with the building, its size became more apparent, maybe three stories tall and just as wide across. There were no signs announcing the purpose of the building. It was just a grey cube of stone and metal and glass, sitting up there like it had no idea it didn’t belong on a mountaintop.
He touched his hand to his chest, trying to steady his racing heart. But there was just no way.
It seemed to take a whole epoch to reach the front entrance. He grasped the handle, expecting it to be locked. But when he turned it, it popped open with ease. Like whoever was inside this uncanny building was waiting for him.
Like he was supposed to be here.
A shudder raced down his spine, and he turned, considering going home. Yet his feet seemed to be moving without him, guiding him into the building.
As soon as he was in, the door slammed shut. Frowning, he grabbed the handle, trying it again. But this time, it wouldn’t budge.
Panic made his heart pulse, and he kicked and struck the door. But it wouldn’t yield, and the memory flashed through his mind – of being locked in that room by his father. Of being tortured with his worst nightmare and having no way out….
Only…only, wait. That was – that all happened when he was Adrien Agreste. Right now, he was Astro Cat. He had the power to obliterate this door, if he wanted.
I’m not trapped.
I can get out if I want. I’m…I’m safe.
Still, he took a moment to catch his breath before he accepted the situation and turned around.
He was standing at the end of a long white corridor, the ceiling lined with halogen lights. Like someone had installed full electricity up here, despite the height. The corridor was lined with doors, all white like the walls.
At the end of the hallway was a single black door. Black like his costume.
He tightened his fist to control the tremor that was taking him again. All of this…the building on the mountain…the hallway…the door…. Instinct told him it was here for him.
Almost unable to help himself, he started down the hallway, like a fish being reeled in on a line. When he reached the door, he halted, sweat beading on his brow.
What now?
Did he even have a choice?
In an odd way, there was freedom in this question. If nothing he did was his responsibility, did it really matter if he opened that door or not? So why not just open it?
Gritting his teeth, he took hold of the door, flinging it open before he could change his mind – or, before his mind could be changed. Then his mouth dropped as he stumbled into the room.
It was stony with a vaulted ceiling – large and empty apart from a large wooden table ringed with twelve people. As soon as he entered, they all turned their heads as one and stared at him. He hung at the back, staring at them in return.
There was nothing outstanding about them. They were just six men and six women, all ordinary looking humans dressed in modern clothing. In fact, they looked like maybe he’d just interrupted them in the middle of a business meeting.
But why were they here? Who the hell conducted a business meeting on the top of Mount Olympus?
One of the men smiled at him, giving a bow of greeting. ‘Ah, you’ve arrived at last. Welcome, Adrien.’
Cat gasped and staggered back, banging into the shut door. ‘How….’
‘How do we know your name?’
He could only nod.
The man’s smile widened, and he gestured at a single empty seat at the table. ‘Come, sit down with us, Adrien.’
‘Yes, sit,’ the others intoned as one, and they gestured at the seat, too.
O…kay…. That…might have just made it into the top-five creepy things he’d witnessed in his short life.
Still. If they knew who he was, then this – this might be exactly what he was looking for. These might be them.
Again, he seemed to be tugged around on string, his legs now working without his will and leading him to the empty seat. His footsteps echoed on the stone floor, his nerves burning hotter as twelve sets of eyes watched his every movement with keen fascination. When he made it to the table, he all but fell into the chair, then transformed back to simple Cat Noir, losing the helmet.
The twelve smiled as if his attendance pleased them.
‘We’ve been waiting for you,’ the man said.
Cat wetted his lips, trying to get his voice to work. ‘W-why? How did you know I’d be coming?’
‘Because. We told you to.’
‘You….’
‘That’s right, Adrien. We wrote it. Not knowing what else to do, Cat Noir decides to travel to Mount Olympus to meet the writers and get answers. It was a long time coming, really. The time has come to give you answers – to let you have your say.’
Cat blinked at them, clasping his hands together in his lap to keep them from shaking.
I was right.
Oh my god, I was RIGHT! I really am….
A fictional character.
His eyes stung with revelation. Oh god, this was – this was insane! How was this not a dream?
A woman a couple metres away from him leaned forward on the table. ‘We appreciate just how overwhelming this must be for you, Adrien. But now that you’re here, perhaps you have things you’d like to say or ask?’
He gave her a blank stare. He’d been so sure of himself when he’d begun this journey, but when faced with the actual writers….
His shoulders drooped with defeat. ‘Does it matter? If all of this is in your hands, do I really want anything? I mean, anything I say will just be things you put in my mouth already…right?’
The twelve exchanged a look that told him he was right.
And yet…. ‘Humour us,’ the woman said. ‘What do you feel compelled to say you want?’
He swallowed. ‘Well, I…I suppose I…. I want to know why you’ve written me to have such a tragic life.’
The twelve shared another look, then nodded as one, before the first man answered. ‘We knew you’d want to know that.’
Anger made his cheeks burn. ‘See? What’s the point in asking me if –’
‘The story needed a plot, Adrien.’
‘…what?’
‘And plots are propelled by obstacles and challenges.’
Cat’s jaw dropped as he tried to process this answer. Without meaning to, he leaned forward a little over the table. ‘That’s it? That’s why you did it? Why single me out? And why choose me at all? Why not choose Nino or –’
‘Are you saying you’d like us to target Nino next?’
‘No! But –’
‘Adrien.’ The man folded his arms on the table. ‘You must understand. You’re actually a very popular, beloved character. We care about you a great deal.’
‘…then why do you torture me?’
The man smiled like he’d just said something amusing. ‘Because that’s what happens to heroes. It comes at a price, Adrien. You have to earn your title by going on difficult or even painful journeys. Think of the suffering poor Heracles endured before he finally broke free of that nasty Eurystheus.’
Cat’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to find an adequate way to respond. Then somehow he was on his feet, his voice booming and echoing around the room. ‘I’m not Heracles! I’m just – god, I’m just Adrien Agreste! And I’ve been through enough!’
The twelve didn’t so much as flinch at his outburst, instead nodding as if – yet again – they’d anticipated this.
‘We understand,’ the woman said. ‘That’s why you’re here, now. We want to know, Adrien. What is it you want?’
‘What do I want? WHAT DO I WANT? I’LL TELL YOU WHAT I WANT!’ He was breathing hard, now, and he gripped the edge of the table for support. ‘I want – I want a happy fucking ending!’
‘And what does that look like?’ another woman asked.
‘Well, for starters, you could make me a real boy, not someone who’s controlled by some fucking ring. And – and I want you to rewrite that final battle with Monarch! I don’t want to be locked away in some fucking white room, this time. I want to be there for Ladybug! I don’t want her to fight my battles – I want some closure with my own fucking father! I want him to know it’s me when I punch his fucking abusive face in! And I want Ladybug to feel able to tell me the truth about things – not just as Cat Noir but as Adrien! And I want some new fucking clothes! Why do I only have one outfit in my wardrobe? My father was a fucking fashion designer!’
Although he was all but screaming, the twelve only chuckled. Of course they did. They’d written his whole fucking speech. They were probably feeling pretty fucking awesome for thinking up that line about his wardrobe. Didn’t they understand? This wasn’t just some story – this was his life!
The first man shook his head, trying to get himself under control. ‘Oh, my dear Adrien. We’re so sorry. We don’t mean to seem like we’re not taking you seriously. It’s just…don’t you know? In many regions, your story is only known as Ladybug. She’s the main character. She’s the one who gets all the new costumes.’
Cat gaped at them, his elbows weakening and his arms almost collapsing. ‘The name of….’
‘Your story. Yes.’
‘I’m not….’
The man shook his head. ‘No, Adrien. You’re not the star. Haven’t you noticed the way we keep throwing in extra characters? You’ve felt pushed to the side because…well, because we wrote it that way. But also, it’s because you were.’
‘But…but why?’
‘Again – to propel the story. If you want to make money, you have to keep the audience engaged – string them along with one drama after another. Incidentally, that’s why you still don’t know who Ladybug is, too. We could’ve revealed that ages ago, but….’ The man shrugged as if to say, C’est la vie.
Cat stared at him – then stared at the other eleven – then raked his fingers through his hair. ‘Why – why did you decide to compel me here? Why tell me all this?’
At this, they shared private smile, before the man turned back to him. ‘Because – someone else put the idea in our heads.’
Cat sucked in a breath. ‘You mean….’
‘Yes, child. We are but a humble team of writers. Anything we think up is overseen by the Head Writer. We’re just as much at their mercy as you are, Adrien.’
Cat went cold inside, understanding slamming him in the chest.
The Head Writer….
Swallowing, he craned his neck back and looked up, but he only saw the ceiling of the strange room.
‘Oh, you can’t find them there,’ a woman said. ‘The Head Writer isn’t in this realm.’
‘Because you’re all like me,’ Cat said. ‘Oh my god, you’re – you’re characters in a story, too.’
They stared at him in silence, allowing him to reach his own conclusions.
He gripped his head. ‘What do I – what do I do with this knowledge? How do I just go back to my life, knowing that every movement I make, every thought I have, every desire I have has been planted there by someone else! How is any of this different from being controlled by my father? You may as well just wear these rings and give them a twist and –’
Panic choked off his words, and he hugged himself, rocking back and forth in an attempt to self-soothe. But it was no use. It only made it harder to breathe, and he unwrapped his arms again, stumbling onto his feet.
He had to – had to get out of here, somehow. Had to break down that door, and the other door at the front of the building, and just – just get out.
Raising his hand, a word slipped through his lips.
‘Cataclysm.’
The twelve nodded as if this was expected. Of course it was. Everything was fucking expected!
Even slamming his hand on the table.
There was a loud boom! and the room exploded. He had just enough time to see the acceptant nods of the writers, before the air went black and he was flung into the air.
He shrieked, throwing his arms over his head to protect it from slamming into the ceiling. But he never hit it. Instead, he just…kept flying, moving higher and higher up in that sea of black dust, until –
Was it his imagination or was….
Yes, the black was – it was breaking up into tiny particles, drifting towards each other and clumping together, allowing him to see all the white space in between.
Mesmerised, he floated, no longer moving but hovering in this…wherever this was. Not the building. Not the sky. Maybe not even the same dimension. And as he watched, the groups of black particles started to form shapes – familiar shapes, standing against the white.
Oh my god….
His heart pulsed with understanding. He was somehow in a sea of letters – of black text typed on white paper.
Not only that, but when he looked down, he saw that his body, too, had been transmuted into a jumble of letters – letters that spelled out Cat Noir. Yet somehow, he could still see. He was literally deconstructing a text and reading between the lines.
And then he saw them – hands, moving as they typed out each letter on the page he was somehow part of, now.
The Head Writer.
Even as he thought it, words formed in the air – the very words of his thoughts – and the words explaining that he was having those thoughts.
This – this was the story.
Oh god, he really was just a jumble of ideas put into text, his only form the alphabet. Ladybug was so worried about him being a sentibeing, able to be snapped away at the slightest thought. She didn’t understand that at the slightest whim, the Head Writer could decide to delete all of them.
‘I wouldn’t do that to you,’ a voice spoke to the page.
He jolted – or, that was the action described by the text, sweeping him along whether he liked it or not. And when he replied, his words also came in the form of letters and punctuation. ‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘Oh no. I care about you, really. I care about all of you.’
Care. ‘…then why do you torment me?’
There was a loud sigh. ‘Because I relate to you. I’ve experienced my share of trauma, you know.’
‘So you thought you’d dump it all on someone else?’
‘That’s…not exactly how I view it. Anyway, I try to throw humour in there, too.’
Cat rolled his eyes – or, he would have, if he’d had any physical eyes.
‘It’s true! Laughter can be a way of dealing with pain. You must know that, with how many jokes you make.’
‘Jokes I guess you’re going to tell me you thought up for me to say.’ Somehow, this made him feel more bitter than anything.
The Head Writer sighed again. ‘I promise I have a happy ending lined up for you.’
‘When? Every time I think things are finally getting better, you just throw more shit my way. When exactly were you planning on just letting me have a break?’
‘…I admit you’ve been on a bit of a roller coaster.’
‘You think?’
‘It’s just, happiness is so much sweeter when you’ve fought for it, don’t you think? You can only appreciate the light if you’ve known darkness first. Anyway, these trials you’ve gone through…they’ve helped you grow. They’ve helped me grow. Each time I write about you…it’s therapeutic – for both of us. We both learn things in the process. Your growth is my growth.’
Cat huffed – at least, the text said he did. ‘So that’s it. I’m just at the mercy of your catharsis exercise.’
‘…I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. Hm.’ The fingers drummed on the keys – wherever they were. ‘I do feel bad about it, you know.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘I do! Look – what if I told you something that would make your whole life worth returning to?’
Cat eyed the writer warily – in theory, anyway. ‘Like what?’
‘Like this.’ The writer paused, as if for dramatic effect. In fact, it said that on the page, so Cat knew it was so.
Then three words spread across the page that made all his pixels quiver like a kitten on a Ferris wheel.
‘Ladybug…is Marinette.’
Cat cried out – or he might have if he’d…. You get the idea. ‘M…Marinette?’
‘Mm-hm.’
‘You mean…all this time?’
‘Yep. The girl you’re in love with…is the girl you’re in love with. How’s that for good luck?’
A sentence flew through the white. Cat’s heart pounded like a drum, his body breaking out in a cold…. ‘Ladybug…is Marinette.’
‘That’s what I wrote.’
‘Ladybug…is Marinette!’
‘See? I can be kind sometimes, too. Now then – still think you won’t be able to carry on with your life?’
‘I’m…I’m not sure…. Even knowing what I do…it doesn’t change the fact that everything I do is being orchestrated by you.’
‘True. But how about this? Maybe someone is orchestrating me, too. They talk of divine inspiration. Who’s to say it isn’t real? Maybe all of us are just the dreams of some creator…who’s the dream of another creator…who’s just the dream of –’
‘Okay, my head’s hurting,’ Cat said. ‘Or, it would be, if I had a head anymore.’
‘I understand. My point is, we can’t really know if anything is real. We can’t know how much control or choice we have about anything in our lives. But you wanted a happy ending, and I’m giving it to you.’
‘You can’t undo the bad stuff that happened before, while you’re at it?’
‘No, Adrien. That would change who you are. You’ve done all that fantastic growing and developing! All the negative experiences have helped shape you. This is the person Marinette loves. This is the person you’re proud of being.’
‘But – but none of that was me!’
Again, the writer sighed. ‘Actually…. Okay, I wasn’t going to do this, but I’ll let you in on a little secret.’
‘…yes?’
‘Sometimes…I don’t actually feel like I’m in control of you.’
Cat’s name jumped on the page. ‘You don’t?’
‘Nope. I start out with a plan – a really clear vision of how things will go. But when I start writing, you break away and do your own thing. You say and do things I didn’t expect, and before I know it, you’re leading the story. I often think I’m just a medium. If I try too hard to write your story, it falls flat. There’s no spirit – because it’s not you.’
Cat was shaking harder now. ‘Are you saying…I’m the writer of my own story?’
‘In a sense…yeah.’
‘And you’re not – you’re not just saying that?’
‘Nope. I’m a humble transcriber, Adrien, not a god.’
Not a god. The Head Writer was…not in control. ‘But you do get some say in things…right? Like, could you give me new clothes?’
The writer laughed. ‘Yes, Adrien. I’ll give you some new clothes. But only if you’re willing to go back to the realm of story. Otherwise, you won’t have a body to wear those clothes.’
There was solid logic to this, so Cat nodded, feeling stronger than he had in months. ‘Alright. I’ll go back. I mean, what else am I going to do, right?’
‘Well, if you want out, I suppose I can always delete you and start working on another story. There’s a big audience for stories about Marinette and Luka Cou –’
‘No!’ Cat almost screamed the word. ‘No, I…I’ll go back. Anyway, you’ve just given me something to live for.’
‘The promise of a new wardrobe?’
‘Marinette being Ladybug.’
‘Oh yes. That.’
‘But maybe you could do just one more thing for me?’
‘Anything, Adrien. This is your moment. Ask away.’
‘Right. Well…could you make me forget this ever happened? Maybe give me some other explanation for how I know Marinette is Ladybug?’
He sensed the writer smiling. ‘I can certainly do that. And Adrien…?’
‘Yes?’
‘It was nice speaking with you like this.’ The words were a goodbye, the letters swirling into a soup of darkness once more.
Cat’s whole wordy body tingled as he disassembled, letters coming apart and the black pixels spreading further and further apart until he was pure energy. Then there was a sense of that energy coalescing, condensing, until he was solid once more and falling – falling – falling – until –
He jolted at his desk, the sound of Plagg’s voice coming through a kind of haze.
‘…you going to answer that?’
Adrien blinked, trying to work out what he was talking about. He reached for his phone, where he’d discarded it on the side.
Plagg sighed. ‘Not your phone, the door. There’s someone at the door. They’ve knocked a couple times, but you’ve been spacing right out like you were having some kind of out of body experience. It was really weird.’
Out of body…?
Adrien lurched forward at his desk, rubbing his forehead. He was experiencing the strangest sensation, like he’d just been having some important dream – or more than that. Maybe one of those mystical visions reported by oracles and ancients. But the details were fading more with each passing second.
Another knock made him jump, and he stumbled onto his feet, smoothing out his blue t-shirt. ‘You’d better hide, Plagg.’
Plagg gave a mock salute, then tucked out of sight, and Adrien headed to the door, still rubbing his head. God, this was so frustrating! Whatever he’d been dreaming…it felt important. Like he’d been – he’d been visited or something and given a message of some kind. Only, now, it was gone. He might have been gifted an understanding of the meaning of life, for all he knew.
Making an irritated noise, he shook his head and opened the door – then lifted his brow when he saw who it was.
Marinette?
The last time she’d visited him had been weeks ago, and it had been an awkward experience. She’d avoided eye contact and kept her hands to herself, accepting affection with reluctance – as if she was carrying something in that beautiful head of hers that prevented her from connecting with him.
As if she was hiding something from him.
Yet right now, as she stared him dead in the eyes, whatever wall had risen between them in recent months came tumbling down.
‘Marinette…is everything okay?’
She gave a nervous nod. ‘Yes. I mean no. I mean….’ She covered her face with her hands and half-growled into her fingers, like she was exasperated with herself.
Then she dropped her hands, locking eyes with him once more, and took a deep breath before speaking. ‘Adrien…there’s something I need to tell you.’