Chapter Text
When he was younger, Adrien’s parents used to love to tell him stories.
It was the one thing that tied them all together, an intricate ritual with steps that were always followed. At the end of a day, not every day, but often enough, his mother would ask him if he wanted a story before bed. Without any hesitation he always said yes, no matter how old he had gotten. Then it would begin.
It started when she gathered him up in her arms. The smell of irises and roses floated all around the air near her, a combination of perfume and shampoo that blended till Adrien could only associate it with the feeling of being safe in Maman’s arms. When he had gotten older, she had just wrapped her arm around his shoulders, but it still provided the same comforts as being cradled close to her heart.
Since Emilie disappeared, Adrien had taken to going into his parents room when he knew his father wouldn’t notice, sneaking into his mother’s closet and picking one of her sweaters to hold to his chest and bury his face in. If he kept his eyes closed tight enough, then he could sometimes trick himself into thinking that she was there holding him.
But in the time before, that hadn’t been necessary. The next part of the ritual started when Adrien was with her. They would leave his room, going on an adventure to find where Father was working that day. Gabriel changed his working area nearly daily, claiming that he had his best ideas when the space around him was fresh. They had spotted him in the library, the piano room, once even standing in the kitchen, scribbling on parchment paper instead of his sketchbooks.
When they found Gabriel, Emilie would bat her eyelashes at him, and Adrien would hug himself to his father, propping his chin up to rest on the man’s chest. They never told him what they wanted, he didn’t need to be told to know. Under the dual pressure of two sets of puppy eyes, Gabriel would always surrender, not bothering to put up a fight. The sketches would be put away, the fabrics stored for future use, and the three of them would travel to Adrien’s bedroom as one.
Adrien always rushed in first, taking a running leap onto his bed and diving under the covers. Without a doubt his mother would laugh at his exuberance and his father would gently scold him for being silly, but there was no heat in it. His father’s nagging those days had always been softer, tempered by Emilie’s indulgent smiles and loving gazes.
Adrien had never considered his father a demanding man before she had left. A distant man, yes, a difficult man to understand, sure, but never harsh with his family. Distantly Adrien had been aware that his father was hard to work for, but it had never been hard for him. Gabriel’s moods were only one of the many things that Adrien realized his mother protected him from.
But in the time before, there had been awkward hugs, more than once on a special occasion, but multiple times a day. His father was never good at expressing himself, and he always gave him weird terrible gifts for his birthday and Christmas, but he did his best for Adrien. There had been fencing lessons in between new collections and trips all around the world, parties where he would put his hand on Adrien’s shoulder and tell those around him with pride about his son’s achievements. But more than anything, there had been stories.
Once he was in bed, his parents would sit on either side of him, his mother on his right and his father on his left. They would each put an arm around him, their fingers linking together behind his head. His mothers iris and roses would join with his father’s sandalwood and mahogany, and Adrien would take a long deep breath, drowsiness already settling in. Then they would start to weave a tale.
His parents had endless stories- myths, legends, fables woven through history that lived eternally in their memory. He loved having a new story to dream about, and his own sketchbooks were filled with scenes from his parent’s tales. A man wearing a lion skin that held up the sky, a woman flying to join the moon, a jackal headed man weighing a heart and a feather. They told the stories together, not one at a time, but their sentences weaving into one another. Adrien often forgot where his mother’s voice stopped and where his father’s began, and truthfully it hadn’t mattered. The stories belonged to both of them, and they belonged to Adrien because Adrien belonged to them too.
Adrien loved to act out his parents' stories in the day. He would run around the mansion, his dearest friend Chloe chasing after him as he would parrot the words his parents had told him the night before. He was a daring prince, a humble old woman, gods and goddesses alike. His parents always said he had his head too far in the clouds, but he didn’t listen when they did. They put his head there, so if they didn’t like it that was their own fault.
But there was one story his parents loved more than anything. They usually never told him the same story twice unless he asked for it, but this story was one that they told him over and over. Every other story his parents told had been passed down to them from someone else, but this was one of their own design.
There was a man with wings, a man who had the ability to fly where he pleased and do what he liked. His wings were big and powerful, but looked deceivingly fragile. Nothing could tether him to the ground, because he could always rise above. The man with the wings adored his freedom, and he guarded it zealously. No one would take it.
The man with the wings met a woman one night. She was hurt, her father had been a wicked cruel man and he had cast her out without reason. She saw the man with wings and begged him to let her have them, to let her fly away. She would give him anything he desired, but she wanted to be able to be free like he was.
The man with wings had a secret, his wings came from a magic jewel. If he lost the jewel, or if it was stolen, he would no longer have his wings. The woman was beautiful, and she was desperate, but the man loved his wings more than anything. He couldn’t give his wings to her, but he could teach her to fly on her own. The man brought the woman back to his castle in the sky, and together they created a new magic jewel just for the woman. Her wings weren’t like his, they came in a thousand colors with eyes at the end of every feather.
The man made the woman a wife, and the woman made the man a husband, and they were happy. She had tethered him, but he wasn’t resentful. He had taught her to fly, and she had given him something to love other than his freedom. His castle in the sky was no longer empty.
They were so happy that one day their love made something new, not a jewel this time, but a little lion cub. They knew that their cub was the strongest, the bravest, the best one of all. Their cub would rule the world, he just needed his parents to help him. They crafted their cub jewels of his own, not just one, but dozens. The man and woman only had wings, but their cub could do anything. Their cub would become king, the world would kneel at his feet and swear their loyalty. They would come to that castle in the sky and put a crown on the child’s head, and his parents would look on in joy knowing that they made it possible for their son to be mighty.
Adrien didn’t understand the story much, but his parent’s always seemed so happy when they told it. They would squeeze him just a little tighter and share secret adoring gazes above his head.
When Adrien had gotten his miraculous, the story had flitted through his mind, but he hadn’t paid it much mind. He had been too focused on the exhilarating joy of freedom, the giddy excitement of being able to fill the dreams he had as a child of being a hero like in the wonderful stories that filled his mind.
He should have paid more attention.
When the stories had been taken from him, because his mother had been taken from him, being Chat Noir became Adrien’s new sanctuary. It wasn’t the same as the warm safety of his bed and his parents, but it was a sanctuary all the same. The wind rushing past him as he ran on rooftops, the adrenaline pumping his veins as he battled evil with a girl who made his heart swell and his stomach swoop. It was its own kind of safety, the safety in not having anyone’s expectations pressing down on him, of just getting to be exactly who he wanted to be.
Being Chat Noir was easy, almost easier than being Adrien Agreste. People looked at him with adoration, not because he was pretty, but because he saved them. They wanted to take pictures with him not to say they met a famous model, but to boast that their hero cared enough about them as a person to stop and take the time to get to know them.
When his father’s berating dug too far, or the isolation started to grow too heavy, Adrien knew that just a few words would give him all the freedom he needed. Sure, he and his Ladybug were fighting an evil monster, but that’s what heroes did. Chat Noir had no doubt that they would defeat Hawk Moth one day, that he would slay the dragon just like the knights did and rescue the princess, although his lady rescued him far more often then he did her.
One day the fight would be over, and he and his lady would be able to reveal themselves. He hoped by that point she might love him the way he loved her, a hope that grew as her bemused annoyance slowly began to give way to affection. Even if she didn’t feel the same, he would still always have her. Ladybug was his, just as he had been his parents. Nothing could take her from him, she promised she would never abandon him.
His parents had been right. He had his head too far in the clouds. What his parents had never told him was why it was bad to do such a thing.
Because eventually everything was forced to come back down to the surface. Even dreams.
Adrien’s dreams died quietly in the midst of chaos. A final fight between him and his partner and the villain that threatened their home. Hawk Moth had set a trap for them, holding Rena Rouge hostage and using her miraculous to create an illusion of the rest of their team. He said he would kill them if they didn’t hand over their miraculous, one by one. It was no question, Adrien wouldn’t risk his friends who had quickly become his family, and it was the same for Ladybug. They had gone into the darkness hand in hand, no plan but not alone. Never alone again.
The fight was messy, bloody even. Hawk Moth threw akuma after akuma into the air, calling nearly all of his previous creations to existence. There was something about him during this fight, something twisted and wrong. The Hawk Moth of the past had been cold, calculating to the point of cruelty. This man was unhinged, probably a side effect of the months of using both the peacock and the butterfly miraculous. It was most likely why he only wore the butterfly now, knowing he would need his mind to have an advantage over the heroes of Paris.
They fought all through the city, demolishing buildings and setting things ablaze in fire and ice. Chat Noir’s life flashed before his eyes time and time again, but he went beyond his own limits to be there for his lady.
It should have been frightening, and on some level it was, but more than anything Adrien was filled with passion, determination. This was the kind of story his parents would have told him as a child, and in their stories the heroes always won. He would win too and show them that they were right to think that their little cub was the best.
He and Ladybug had fought hand in hand, not unifying their miraculous but unifying themselves. Together they had Hawk Moth down, the akumas breaking their hold on the victims they took. Their monster was vanquished, tied to the foot of the Eiffel Tower by his lady’s yoyo. They walked as one towards him, Ladybug reaching out to take the butterfly broach off of the evil man that had stolen it.
It was the crowning glory moment. Adrien knew exactly what would happen now.
They would see the face of their enemy, and they would win. He would forgo their normal fist bump to hold Ladybug in his arms, give her a kiss on the cheek or even the lips if she allowed. She would laugh and call him her silly kitty, returning his embrace. Hawk Moth would be taken away, and then it would be just him and her. They would let their transformations fall, and he would get to look properly into those catching bluebell eyes. He would know her name, the name he had been craving to hear for years.
They had defeated the darkness together, and Paris would finally be safe. Adrien would be able to go home and reveal to his father everything he kept secret, and the pride would shine in his eyes again as he told everyone about the great achievements Adrien made as Chat Noir. With no secrets, they could go back to the way that things used to be. His father wouldn't have to be as harsh, not with Paris’s greatest hero. Maybe his mother would hear about it and come home too, but that was a hope that Adrien never allowed himself to think of, even if he did dream it. If she didn’t come home, it was okay. His father would finally admit his love for Nathalie. They would get married, and then they would be there when he married Ladybug.
Ladybug grabbed the miraculous on Hawk Moth’s collar, ripping it away and letting his suit fade away.
In his place was Gabriel Agreste, glaring at them both with eyes dripping in hate, the fires that were still raging behind them casting his face in deep shadows. Adrien’s father was in Hawk Moth’s place. It was Adrien’s father’s voice that shouted at them, screaming about how they had ruined everything. It was Adrien’s father’s hands that clawed against Ladybug’s wire to try and reclaim the butterfly miraculous.
Hawk Moth was his father.
Adrien had helped plenty of people in shock before. Most of Hawk Moth’s victims ( Father’s victims) were confused after they had been released from his grasp, but that confusion quickly turned to panic and shame. As Chat Noir he had spent lots of time reassuring these people that were terrorized ( by his own father) that their reactions were perfectly natural.
Was it natural now that he couldn’t breathe? That he couldn’t feel his body at all? His parents had always told him he had his head in the clouds, but Adrien had never felt like this before. It was a complete disconnect, like he was watching everything in a play or reading it in a book.
He saw himself as Chat Noir standing next to Ladybug, while his father furiously tried to escape and shrieked at them about how they could never understand why he had done what he had done. He watched Ladybug say something, probably a statement about justice or responsibility that would have sounded perfect at the end of a novel.
Adrien saw her carefully place the butterfly in a black box with red markings, letting that box fall through her yo yo and into a safe place. Ladybug was holding her fist out to Chat Noir now, looking at him with a confused expression when he didn’t even turn to look at her. Adrien was supposed to do something now, wasn’t he? He was supposed to have Chat Noir tap his fist against Ladybugs, or something more than that. Whatever fantasy he had a minute ago was gone, burning into ash in the wind like the city behind them. Ladybug lowered her fist down and grabbed the day’s lucky charm (a sketchbook of all things) and threw it in the air. The red sky turned blue, the moon casting new shadows on the scene below. Red still stood in the air, mingling with blue as the police lights came closer. Blue and Red back and forth. Fire and calm, Hawk Moth and his father, Adrien and Chat Noir.
The magical ladybugs hadn’t fixed everything. Adrien’s father was still tied to the tower, frothing at the mouth with fury. They had to come back and fix that, replace his father with whoever really was Hawk Moth. The ladybugs had never missed anything before, how could they forget such an important detail.
Ladybug was calling his name now, using her sweet little nicknames that usually made Chat Noir melt like putty in her hands. Would she still want to call him those tender terms when she knew he was the son of a monster? When she found out that her Dear Chaton was nothing more than a supervillain's spawn? Would Ladybug even be able to look at him when she knew her hero wasn’t at all like she thought he was?
Adrien couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t make his body do the motion. He was just stuck in the air, floating somewhere and wishing that the man with wings would save him like he had saved Adrien’s mother.
There was a hand on Chat Noir. On...him. Adrien came crashing to the surface, taking in a strong lungful of air and instinctively rearing away from the touch. He had no idea if it was friend or foe, but anything was a danger right now.
His frantic eyes searched around him, flitting away from his father ( His Father. It was really His Father. His Father had tried to kill him over and over. His Father had been the one putting him in danger. His Papa had been the one to stab him through the shoulder with a knife tonight, aiming for his heart and only missing because Ladybug had thrown her yoyo to redirect his hand at the last second.) and over to Ladybug.
She must have been the one that touched him, her hand was still out in his direction. The same hand that had taken the butterfly miraculous off of his father. The touch burned on his arm, and Adrien vaguely wondered if this was what akumatization felt like. It was crawling up his arm and into his chest and squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. She called to him again.
Chaton? Kitty? What’s wrong? Where did he begin to tell her? Did he start with the man against the Eiffel Tower? With the disappearance of the person who was the foundation of his world? Did he start with being given a silver ring, or with the stories of heroes that his parents had fed to him night after night?
He couldn’t. He didn’t know how. He wasn’t strong enough.
Adrien didn’t realize he was running until he was already far gone. He had slipped out of his body again at some point, and came back to find himself kneeling on a random rooftop panting from exertion. The magic ladybugs fixed all of his injuries, but the pain always lingered. He could feel each of them singing in a discordant harmony, every one reminding him of who exactly had hurt him. Stab wounds and bruises and sharp cuts, all given to him by the man who was supposed to make sure no harm ever befell him.
Adrien deliriously wished that the magic ladybugs hadn’t taken his injuries away. Now he was bleeding out from a pain that didn’t exist but lived on in his body, and he wasn’t sure if the physical hurt more than his breaking heart. There was no way to tell. He looked back to make sure Ladybug wasn’t following him, but he knew she hadn’t. She would still be with the police, helping them to arrest Hawk Moth and bring him to jail.
To arrest Gabriel. Hawk Moth didn’t exist anymore. Adrien felt his stomach flip, and he barely had time to lean to the side before his dinner came back up. Acid burned his throat, and he gasped, retching and coughing. The ring on his finger beeped its warnings, and Adrien let himself fade out again, trusting his body to go somewhere safe. The sanctuary of his parents had been broken when his mother disappeared, and the sanctuary of Chat Noir was poisoned now by all he had learned, but Adrien had to have someplace left that was safe.
He came back again as he fell to the floor of his bedroom from the open window. He collapsed in a heap, the burdens he bore finally becoming too much to carry. Cats don’t always land on their feet, apparently. A hysterical giggle spilled past his lips as his face pressed into the carpet.
The familiar rush of transformation went down his body in a wave, taking away the shield of Chat Noir and only leaving Adrien Agreste in its place. Plagg was clearly exhausted, barely able to hover, but he still crawled his way over to Adrien’s side, burrowing next to his neck and purring loudly. Adrien gave another tiny laugh, nestling close to his little cat god. Plagg didn’t try to speak to him, and Adrien was grateful. He wasn’t sure he knew how speaking worked anymore.
“Adrien?” Someone was calling his name. Adrien didn’t move, closing his eyes and curling closer to Plagg who’s purring only increased. The carpet was warm, and Plagg would protect him. He couldn’t be Chat Noir right now, and he didn’t want to be Adrien Agreste. Maybe if he didn’t answer, he wouldn’t have to be either.
Footsteps carried close to him, and his name was said again, this time in a hushed horror as whoever it was saw the kwami currently attached to him. Adrien opened hazy eyes to see sensible black pumps standing before him. He trailed his eyes upward to see Nathalie standing above him, her hands covering her mouth as she looked down in terror. Hovering by her head was a small creature, dark blue with pink eye feathers. It swirled around her, and then gave a tiny gasp of joy.
“Plagg!” It cried, swarming to Adrien’s side and trying to pull his kwami away from him. Plagg gave a growl, a gutteral sound that resonated through Adrien’s entire body. It wasn’t the sound of a house cat, or even a stray from the streets. It was ancient, weighted with purpose and intent to kill. The other kwami was terrified and reared back, hiding behind Nathalie’s head. Said woman gave a shocked gasp of fright, but Adrien wasn’t afraid like they were. Plagg would protect him. Once the threat was gone, Plagg’s growl subsided, and he went back to his previous spot, the rumbling purr starting up again.
“Adrien,” Nathalie spoke in a tiny voice that was nothing like her, “What happened?”
He closed his eyes, letting himself fade back out.