Chapter Text
A.N.: This story takes place sometime in the middle of season 2 of Miraculous: The Adventures of Lady Bug and Cat Noir. It also takes place during spring break of Freshman Year for the Hillwood crew. I don't know much about how the French school system works, so I'm kinda just assuming they have something like spring break over there. I'm sure someone'll correct me at some point, and I'll have to walk something back, but until then, I'm just going with this.
All dialogue is translated from French unless otherwise indicated.
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HEY MIRACULOUS: CITY OF FIGHTS
Chapter 1: Paris in the Springtime
Tom & Sabine Boulangerie et Patisserie
In all the world, there were few more pleasant places to wake up than in an apartment directly on top of a bakery. In the mornings, the savory scent of baking baguettes, complemented by the sweet aromas of macarons and pastries in various stages of development would waft upward and gently rouse Marinette DuPain-Cheng from her nightly slumber.
For a few more moments, the petite dark-haired young teen allowed herself to bask in the luxury of lying there, caressed by her bedding and the smell of fresh baked goods.
"Rise and shine, Marinette!" intruded a high-pitched voice on her dreamy reverie. She awoke with a start, nearly falling out of her bed before catching herself. "I told you not to do that, Tikki," she grumbled, trying to recover her dignity.
"Sorry," the source of the intrusion, a tiny red sprite covered in polka dots, apologized. "But I couldn't exactly let you laze the first day of Spring Break away, could I?" she teased.
"Your concern for the efficient use of my time is very touching," Marinette replied sarcastically.
"Well, think about it… more free time means more free time with Adrien…" she reminded her.
Marinette had to concede that. By now, the little sprite (actually a kwami, a tiny fairy-like creature bound to a totem that mystically granted the wearer superhuman abilities – but that'll be important later on) knew her master very well, and knew exactly how to motivate her… and the prospect of being around her crush certainly qualified. "That does sound nice," she admitted.
"Plus," Tikki added, "Every minute that you don't spend close to her is a minute that someone else can… someone like… Chloe…"
Marinette's eyes narrowed. "Chloe…" she growled. The thought of that spoiled, conceited, self-absorbed harridan getting near Adrien made her blood boil. Granted, the girl tended to have that effect on everyone, but especially her. Hurriedly, Marinette showered, dressed, and tied her hair into her trademark twin pigtails, pausing only to grab a croissant and say goodbye to her parents before dashing out.
"I thought that would get your attention," the kwami said smugly from her comfortable position nestled in Marinette's purse.
"Don't get smug with me, Tikki. Remember, don't bite the hand that feeds you macarons."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Oh, I wouldn't starve you… but maybe the next one will be black licorice-flavored. Or sour quince…"
Tikki shuddered. "Point made."
--
She arrived at Parc du Buttes-Chamont, where she and her friends had arranged to meet that morning.
Her best friend, Alya Cesaire, was already waiting on a bench near the lake. "This is surprisingly early for you, Marinette," she teased.
"What can I say," Marinette replied innocently. "I wanted to get as early a start on Spring Break as I could."
"Of course. And I'm sure it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that we'll be spending the whole day with Nino and Adrien."
"Well… I mean… we're gonna be here, they're gonna be here…"
Alya dropped the pretense. "Look, I spent a lot of time setting this up. Getting Nino to make Adrien clear his schedule alone was a chore and a half. You know what a stickler his dad is. Getting a full day off, especially before a shoot, must have been like pulling teeth." The Creole girl gave her bestie a pointed look that screamed You better not blow this.
The girl must have infinite patience, Marinette mused. Time and time again, she'd tried to arrange it so that Marinette would have a chance to come clean about her feelings for Adrien, and time and again, Marinette would spectacularly blow the opportunity. She had no one to blame but herself, of course, herself and her tongue-tied-ness and her clumsiness and her general all-around awkwardness - but could you really blame her? Adrien was not just any boy, he was the son of one of Paris's most prominent fashion designers and, and in his own right a renowned male model. Marinette didn't just have a crush on a boy, she had a crush on perfection itself!
Deflecting from her own obvious motivations, Marinette remarked "Oh, and you getting to spend the day with Nino has nothing to do with anything, I'm sure."
"Don't change the subject, girl," Alya retorted. "You are going to walk right up to Adrien, and what are you going to do!"
"Probably fold like a towel!" Marinette replied honestly.
Alya facepalmed. "What am I going to do with you." Her phone went off. "Ah, text from Nino. 'I'm almost there.' Well… moment of truth, Marinette. Don't try to wimp out this time," she said, poking her friend playfully in the ribs.
"Uh… Alya…" Marinette turned her friends head so that it faced where Nino was indeed approaching them… alone.
"Ughh…" Alya groaned. "What gives, Nino? You were supposed to bring Adrien!"
"Yeah…. About that…" The Franco-Morroccan boy rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "There was kind of a last-minute change of plans…"
Alya rubbed the bridge of her nose in irritation. "Don't tell me… his dad signed him up for some sort of young enterpeneurs' seminar or an Ancient Greek class or some other thing that'll sap what little free time he has left."
"Actually, he told me he had to run to the airport. Some old friend of his is coming in on a plane from America…. Randy or Rhoda or something like that. Don't worry, he said he was going to join us later."
"Well, looks like you get a brief reprieve," joked Alya.
"Reprieve from what?" asked Nino.
"Nothing. Hey, let's hit Toussaud's. I heard they just put in a superhero exhibit."
"You and your superheroes," Marinette said, rolling her eyes.
"Can I help it if they're fascinating? The colorful costumes, the daring feats…"
Marinette chuckled inwardly. If only her friend knew…
--
Charles du Gaulle Airport
It was hard not to notice the girl striding down the hallway. Even at her fifteen years of age, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd (it should have been hyphenated, but due to a typo on her birth certificate she was stuck with a British beef dish for a middle name) had been blessed with the tall, slim body of a fashion model (understandable, as her mother had actually been one before settling down), with dark brown eyes and lustrous black hair cut in an asymmetrical bob framing a face that hinted at a blend of Celtic, Romany and Korean origins. From neck to toe, she was clad entirely in designer originals, from her blue Nera Lang tank top and candy-apple red Geordi Alarmi jacket, to her black Gabriel Agreste jeans and red Oleg Caprini boots. The only thing that didn't fit the profile was the small butterfly clip in her hair, purchased at a retail cost of $1.99, but precious to her beyond belief, not for its cost or contribution to her appearance, but its source.
The girl's walk was bold and purposeful, daring onlookers both to look and to look away, as she strode to baggage claim, not missing a step as she carried on a phone conversation with her friend back home.
/"I simply can not believe this is happening, Helga,"/ Rhonda gushed. /"To think, Teen Miss Online would send me to cover Gabriel Agreste's new line of swimsuits! I just can not get over it!"/
/"I can't believe your parents let you go on your own,"/ remarked Helga.
/"Well, you know… they probably trust that I am mature enough to handle myself on my own. Actually, I think daddy's just gratified that TMO's footing the bill so he doesn't have to. Though his credit card will be getting a workout… if I find the time to shop, that is. This is technically a working vacation after all."/
/"My heart bleeds. I couldn't imagine the torture of being in Paris, on someone else's dime and horror of horrors, not getting in shopping time! You lead a charmed life, Princess."/
/"Jealous much?"/ Rhonda teased.
/"Hardly,"/ denied Helga. /"What interest would I have in the city of romance…"/ Her voice took on a dreamy quality. /"…art… the finest pastries known to man…"/ Rhonda grinned, knowing her friend couldn't see it. The girl might put on the appearance of being a stone-cold bitch, but Rhonda knew that at heart, Helga had the romantic soul of a poet. And the appetite of a sumo wrestler.
/"Tell you what, Hellcat,"/ Rhonda promised. /"If I find a good patisserie, I promise to send you enough sweets to potentially put you in a diabetic coma."/
/"I knew there was a reason I let you hang out with me, -huh? What's that? Oh, Arnold says that if you see the Pigeon Man, tell him hi from him." /
/"Well, I wasn't exactly planning to go looking for the guy… I mean, doesn't he like, not talk to people ever? But sure, if I run into one aviator-helmet-wearing rando among the two-odd-million people here, I promise I'll say hi."/
--
Not far away in the reception area of the airport, Adrien Agreste waited. Handsome by any standard, and every bit as intelligent as he was good-looking, the boy, with his unruly blond hair and sparkling green eyes was one of the most well-known faces in Paris, the envy of the boys and the desire of the girls. Which was why he was currently clad in a hoodie and sunglasses, hoping to not attract the usual attention.
He thought back on how he had first met the Rhonda, over five years ago. It had been at a reception at the Louvre, and with the adults all occupied with their own business, the children were ignored and forced to find their own fun. And so, he had found himself in the company of one Rhonda Wellington Lloyd. At first he had found the girl to be overly snooty, conceited and self-absorbed, showing very little interest in anything but talking about herself and her family's wealth, but as they spent more time together she began to let her façade drop and act more natural. Since the two both found the reception to be dreadfully boring, they decided to entertain themselves by taking their own tour of the museum, taking turns coming up with funny interpretations of the various installations (though Adrien wondered if, in fact, Rodin's Thinker actually originally was titled "I Shouldn't Have Ordered the Chili".)
They'd gotten together a few more times during her stay over the next few days , during which time she also befriended his only other friend at the time, Chloe Bourgeois. Adrien had to confess that he'd developed a bit of a crush on the raven-haired girl by the time she'd had to leave (he mother had gotten food poisoning from tainted foie gras at a party at Chloe's father's hotel, and after a full day of vomiting, she was pretty much done with Paris), but with the unlikelihood of them ever seeing each other again, he managed to put it out of his head. They had corresponded for a while via Skype and e-mail, but due to Adrien's increasingly busy schedule, the two had fallen out of touch until she had contacted him just yesterday, letting him know that she was going to be in Paris and woudn't it be nice if we could meet up? Apparently, her fashion Vlog had amassed so many followers that she was considered an "influencer", and she'd been tapped by Teen Miss Online to cover his father's show tomorrow. Of course, at this point Adrien had gotten over her years ago, but he was still pleased to hear from her after so long, and pledged to pick her up from the airport, saving her and her patron the price of a cab.
A rustle from his pocket interrupted his train of thought. A tiny figure resembling a small black cat poked his head out and yawned. "Don't tell me she's still not here," he whined.
"Checking out your baggage takes time, Plagg," Adrien chided the kwami (yes, as you may guess, this creature was cousin to the aforementioned Tikki and like her, bound to an item of great power… but again, we will discuss that later).
"What's so special about this girl anyway… does her father own a Camembert farm?"
"I swear, you have the most specific one-track mind ever," grumbled Adrien.
"Hey, stranger," a voice came from behind. Adrien whirled to face his ex-crush, who returned the favor by crushing him in a tight hug. Funny, I don't remember her being a hugger, Adrien thought.
"Rhonda. You've, uh… you've changed," he said. She'd been pretty back then, of course, but now she was downright stunning. Not the least of it was her smile, genuine now and not haughty.
"Yeah, puberty'll do that," she remarked, smirking. "Speaking of, look at you, handsome. Honestly, I thought I'd be the one who was the supermodel by now."
"You certainly talked about it enough," Adrien teased. To be honest, while he was truly over Rhonda, he couldn't help but wonder if she had found someone. "So… how's life in the states treating you? Anything exciting going on?"
"You mean, besides a Vlog so successful that a major publication flew me out to Paris? I know what you're really asking, hot stuff," she chided, wagging a finger. "Yes, there is someone in my life."
"You got me," Adrien admitted. "So, what's his name?"
"Her name is Nadine and she makes every day a treasure, thank you very much. What about you, Blondie? Surely someone has snatched up a catch like you by now."
Adrien sighed. The truth was, he did have his eye on someone… someone very special. Unfortunately, that someone had about as much interest in him as a cat had in an Olympic-sized swimming pool. "Sadly… still single."
"Oh, come on. What about Chloe? You two were thick as thieves back then."
"Uh… No, I'm not with Chloe,"
"Aw,, that's a shame, you two would have made a cute couple."
"Eh… I never really thought of her that way…" Certainly not these days, Adrien added mentally. While she had indeed been pretty much his only friend in his lonely, isolated youth, and he still had a certain fondness for her based on those days, in truth, he had to acknowledge that Chloe had long since become a spoiled, conceited brat. It was only his hope that someday she'd regain some of her kindness that made him continue to count her as a friend.
Adrien was eager to change the subject, lest he be forced to warn Rhonda that her old friend was not the girl she used to be. "So, I see you packed light," he teased, noting the three massive suitcases on the dolly behind her.
"Of course," she joked back. "It's a short trip, so I only packed the absolute essentials."
He pulled out his cell phone. "You know… the shoot's not 'til tomorrow. How about I have Gilbert deliver your baggage to the hotel," he nodded toward his hulking chauffeur, who silently took possession of Rhonda's luggage, "and that'll free us up to just… hang out? I was gonna go meet my friends after this… maybe you could join us?"
Rhonda yawned. "Actually, I'm kinda tuckered out from the trip… I think I need to settle in at the hotel for a bit. But maybe I can meet up with you later on?"
"That works for me. I have a feeling you'll get along with them great."
--
Rhonda Lloyd surveyed the hotel room TMO had arranged for her. It wasn't the best L'Hotel Bourgeoise had to offer, but she could hardly look a free hotel room in the mouth. Besides, it offered what she most needed right now: privacy.
You see, it wasn't just Marinette and Adrien who had secrets. Rhonda herself was concealing one of her own, and it was a doozy.
Once alone in her room, she shed her jacket, revealing two slits in the back of her top. She removed her boots, freeing her feet from their constraints. Next, she closed her eyes and relaxed, as her skin shifted from its ordinary hue to a vivid mauve. The third and fourth fingers of each hand melted together, while her five toed per foot merged down to two. Her nails all turned black and grew into claws. A pair spurs sprouted from her back through the slits in her top, unfolding into large, draconic wings. A lithe, fur-tipped tail snaked out from her spine through a similar opening in her pants, and a second pair of arms sprouted just below her first. Her canines extended into fangs, her tongue turned bright blue and split at the tip, her ears tapered to points, horns extended from the crown of her skull, and her eyes, now gold and boasting vertical pupils, were joined by a third opening in her forehead.
This was Rhonda's secret… some two years after meeting Adrien, an alien virus had caused her to mutate into this strange form, and while she'd made good use of the power her new form had granted her in her career as the superhero Joule, and while could still take on a human form when she needed, from time to time she was inconvenienced by her need to regularly revert to this form to rest her cells. She didn't have to do it for too long, but she couldn't exactly hang out with Adrien's friends looking like this, could she?
In the meantime, she had a hotel room all to herself. She flopped down on the bed and flipped on the TV, which was tuned to the news station, reporting on the most recent exploit by Paris's resident superhero team, Ladybug and Cat Noir. Seems they had foiled the scheme of Punchline, a comedy-themed villain who'd paralyzed half the city in laughter before being finally taken down.
Wouldn't mind getting a chance getting to work with those two, she mused.
After all, while this was a working vacation, there was no reason she couldn't have some fun.
--
A.N. Well, I've finally gotten to this story, which has been in the planning stages for well over a year and a half! It's my first time writing the Miraculous cast; I hope I did okay with them.
If you're wondering "Why the heck is Rhonda a purple monster girl", you might want to check out the other stories in the Weird Sisters series, beginning with Body Issues (which contains a crossover with, and spoilers for, the series Gravity Falls, so fair warning).
Adrien's chauffer hasn't been given a name in the series as far as I know, so I chose Gilbert in honor of his French VA Gilbert Levy.
Next: A villain! A team-up! Stay tuned!