Autor: Lucifer
Genre: Fanfiction, Miraculous, Adrien/Cat Noir, mental growing,
Summar:
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The late afternoon sun danced on the surface of the Seine, golden light flickering through the ripples as Adrien carefully stepped onto the narrow ramp leading to Luka's houseboat. The wood creaked beneath his shoes, and with every step, the weight pressing on his chest seemed to lift—just a little. The air smelled of river water, old wood, and something else entirely: music.
He hadn't even entered yet, but he could already hear it—soft chords filtering through the open door, blending with the sound of laughter.
"Adrien! You made it!" Luka called from inside. "Come on, we're just getting started!"
Adrien offered a quick nod to his driver, who gave a courteous bow and returned to the car. Alone now, Adrien stepped inside—and warmth greeted him. Not the physical kind, but the kind you feel in your ribs when you're exactly where you want to be.
Juleka sat cross-legged in the corner, tuning her guitar while Rose bounced around her with boundless energy. Nino tapped rhythmically on the keys of a slightly battered old keyboard. And Marinette—Marinette was off to the side, perched on a stool with her sketchbook resting on her lap, pencil moving furiously across the page. She looked up when she noticed him, her eyes widening.
"Oh! Hi, Adrien!" she said, too fast, cheeks flushing.
"Hey," he said with a small smile. "Good to see you guys."
He lowered himself to a cushion on the floor, finding comfort in the boat's chaos—the scattered instrument cables, the faint scent of tea, the scratchy rug beneath his hand. It was messy. Real. Free. Nothing like the sterile luxury of his home.
"Alright, people," Luka said as he tested his strings. "Let's run the new piece again. But this time—more soul, yeah?"
The music started, and Adrien let it pull him in. His voice, while not the strongest, wove naturally into the rhythm. For the length of that song, he wasn't the model, the heir, the obedient son. He was just Adrien—singing, smiling, alive.
When they finished, Rose flopped backward dramatically.
"That was awesome! But you know what we still need?" she said, sitting up. "Outfits! Something wild for the show!"
"I've got a few ideas," Marinette chimed in, flipping to a clean page in her sketchbook, already scribbling with a grin.
"What if we dye our hair?" Rose added, eyes lighting up. "Just temporarily! Like, really cool, bold colors!"
Adrien blinked. "Hair dye?"
"Yeah! Like pink streaks, or blue tips, or something totally nuts!" Rose was practically vibrating with excitement.
"My mom's got some washable stuff at home," Luka said with a shrug. "I can text her to bring it over."
"Let's do it!" Nino said. "I call green."
"Purple," Juleka muttered, smirking.
Everyone was laughing, throwing out suggestions, debating who could pull off neon colors or whether glitter was going too far. Even Marinette joined in, sketching little versions of them with multicolored hair.
Adrien chuckled, feeling the joy around him. It was contagious. For a moment, the idea tempted him. A different look. A different him.
But then came the image: his father, arms crossed, voice cold. "You are an Agreste. You represent our brand."
Rose turned to him. "What about you, Adrien? What color would you pick?"
His smile faded, just slightly.
"I… I don't think I can," he said quietly. "My father would… probably not take it well."
The room went still for a beat. Marinette looked up from her sketchpad, concern flickering in her eyes. She didn't say anything, but Adrien felt the unspoken words: You shouldn't have to live like that.
Rose nodded quickly. "No problem! I'll go first then!" she chirped, trying to lift the mood.
At that moment, Luka's mother appeared with a basket full of hair dye tubes. The chaos resumed—laughter, shouting, color everywhere. Marinette offered to help match shades to outfits. Adrien smiled along, but a quiet ache settled in his chest.
He didn't realize how much he wanted to say yes.
***
It was dusk when Adrien climbed into the car. The others had waved him off with teasing smiles and bright hair, still caught up in the moment. Marinette had looked at him one last time—he'd caught that glance—and something about it stayed with him. A gentle, silent encouragement.
The car door closed behind him with a quiet click, sealing him in with the faint scent of leather and silence. Outside the window, the world blurred past—Paris painted in twilight blue and streetlight gold.
His phone buzzed. A text from Nino:
"You sure you don't want that green streak, bro? You'd rock it 😎"
Adrien smiled, but it faded fast.
He stared at his reflection in the car window. His perfectly styled blond hair, the designer coat, the practiced expression.
You'd rock it…
He would have liked to try. Just for fun. Just for one evening.
But he couldn't. Because his life didn't belong to him.
That truth hit him harder than usual tonight. Maybe because he'd seen what freedom looked like. The others got to laugh and experiment, to make mistakes and be themselves. And he?
He was a mannequin wearing someone else's dream.
As the car turned into the private drive leading to the mansion, Adrien leaned his head against the window. For a moment, he let himself wish—wish for something he couldn't even name yet.
Something different.
Something his own.
***
The bedroom was silent, wrapped in soft shadows cast by the moonlight spilling through the high windows. Adrien lay on his side, arms curled close, the sheets tangled around him. His breathing was even, peaceful on the surface—but behind closed eyes, his mind churned.
The dream began simply.
He was standing in the photo studio at home, dressed in the newest Agreste line, lights flashing all around him. Nathalie stood to one side with her tablet. His father's voice echoed from somewhere behind the lights: "Straighten your shoulders. Chin up. Smile less."
Then the setting changed.
He was in class, pen poised over a worksheet, and the teacher called his name. Adrien turned to answer—but instead of his voice, he heard his father again: "You have no time for distractions. Focus."
He blinked, and suddenly he was at a piano in the mansion's music room, fingers poised to play. But before he could touch a key, the lid slammed shut, trapping his hands.
"Not that piece. It's not suitable."
Each shift came faster now. The school hallway. A photo shoot. A fencing match. A commercial set. Over and over, someone was pulling him in a direction—demanding, correcting, expecting.
Then came silence.
Adrien opened his eyes and realized he was alone—in a wide, endless space of pale marble and golden light.
He turned.
And saw the bars.
A cage.
Beautiful. Ornate. Shimmering like sunlight through a crystal chandelier.
It enclosed him completely.
He reached out, fingers brushing against the bars—and found them ice cold. He turned again, searching for a door, for a key, for anything.
But there was only more gold. Gold and glass. And eyes.
He was being watched.
Hundreds of eyes—hidden behind curtains, behind mirrors, behind the perfect surface of the cage.
"Don't embarrass the family."
"Your image must remain flawless."
"You are Adrien Agreste."
The voices swirled around him, overlapping, loud and sharp and endless. His breath hitched. He backed into the center of the cage, hands covering his ears—but the voices only grew louder, pressing in on him like fog, like hands, like steel.
His knees hit the floor.
He screamed—though no sound came out.
And then—
A crack.
Tiny at first. A thin, glowing fracture across the golden bars.
Then another.
Then dozens more.
The cage shuddered.
Light spilled through the cracks, blinding and warm.
The bars shattered.
Glass and gold burst outward like shards of sunlight, and Adrien was thrown back—arms spread, face to the sky. For a moment, it felt like falling. Then—
Like flying.
The voices were gone.
No weight.
No eyes.
No one to please.
Just wind. Sky. And silence.
And he laughed.
Freely. Wildly. Joyfully.
Not because someone told him to. Not because a camera was on.
Just because it felt good.
He felt like—
Like Cat Noir.
Adrien stirred in his sleep. A faint smile touched his lips as the dream faded. By morning, he would barely remember it. Only a vague lightness would remain, like a breath he hadn't known he was holding.
And for the first time in a long time—
He would wake up feeling free.
***
The Agreste mansion was quiet.
Too quiet.
The security systems were state-of-the-art. Motion detectors, infrared cameras, reinforced doors—no expense spared. Gabriel Agreste guarded his secrets like a dragon hoarding gold.
And yet…
Felix was already in the west corridor.
He moved like a shadow—silent, precise, deliberate. His gloved fingers danced across the locked panel beside the study door, inserting a slender device with practiced ease. A soft click, and the security lock blinked green.
Behind him, Kagami waited in the darkness. She stood perfectly still, her breath calm, katana strapped to her back—not out of vanity, but readiness.
"Time?" she whispered.
Felix glanced at the watch on his wrist. "Four minutes before the next patrol sweeps past the gate. We're good."
He pushed the door open slowly.
Gabriel's study was exactly as expected: cold, modern, and meticulously ordered. Every surface gleamed. Every item had its place. But Felix wasn't here for the décor.
His eyes locked on the drawer beneath the sculpture shelf.
"He keeps the rings here," he murmured. "Behind a biometric seal."
Kagami stepped forward. "Do you have his pattern?"
"Of course," Felix said with a smirk. "I am his nephew, after all."
With swift, practiced motions, he placed a soft mold over the sensor, inserted a bypass chip, and mimicked the thumbprint pattern he'd scanned weeks ago during a staged dinner.
The drawer clicked open.
There they were.
Two ornate rings, glinting faintly in the dim light. Identical in shape—but pulsing with subtle energy, like they were watching, waiting.
Felix didn't hesitate. He grabbed them both.
The instant his fingers closed around them, the room seemed to grow heavier.
A low hum filled the air.
The lights flickered.
Suddenly—
CRASH!
The side wall burst open. A sentry drone shot into the room, red lights glowing, sirens flaring.
"Time's up!" Kagami barked, drawing her sword in one fluid motion.
Felix shoved the rings into the pouch on his belt and dove behind the desk. Kagami moved like fire—blades slashing through the air, deflecting the drone's lasers with sparks and steel. One misstep, though, and a stray blast clipped Felix's shoulder.
"Argh!" he grunted, staggering.
"Don't drop them!" she shouted.
"I'm not that stupid," he hissed, gritting his teeth.
With one final strike, Kagami cleaved through the drone's sensor core. The machine exploded in a burst of sparks, then collapsed to the ground, twitching.
"Can you move?" she asked, helping him up.
"I've had worse," Felix muttered. "Let's go."
They slipped back into the shadows, disappearing through the emergency tunnel Felix had mapped weeks ago. Alarms rang faintly in the distance, but no one caught them—not tonight.
***
Later That Night – Somewhere Safe
Kagami sat beside Felix in an empty warehouse, binding his wound with firm hands.
He didn't complain. He never did.
The rings lay between them on a cloth, no longer humming, but still heavy with meaning.
Kagami took a breath.
"You're sure you want to do this?" she asked. "Once the bond is severed—there's no going back."
Felix nodded. "That's the point."
"And Adrien?"
"He won't remember. Not clearly. But he'll feel it." He paused. "He'll finally start to become who he's meant to be."
Kagami took the rings gently, placed one in a small containment sphere. Then, closing her eyes, she drew on the ancient energy passed down through generations of guardians. Her hands glowed faintly.
She pressed her fingers to the surface of the rings—once, twice, a final time.
A faint snap echoed through the warehouse.
And the ties that bound Felix and Adrien to there father's design—
Were broken.
***
The morning sun spilled softly into Adrien's room, golden light filtered through sheer white curtains. The city beyond the glass was already awake, buzzing faintly with life.
Adrien blinked, slowly opening his eyes.
For a few moments, everything felt… different.
Not drastically. Not dramatically.
But quietly—like the weight that usually pressed on his chest had lessened. Like a tension he'd never realized existed had finally loosened its grip.
His body was still tired, but something in him felt lighter.
He couldn't remember much of his dream—just flashes. A cage. The sound of metal breaking. And something else…
Freedom?
He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck.
Plagg stirred from his cushion, letting out a massive yawn. "Morning. You look less like a zombie than usual. Did someone finally oil your soul?"
Adrien gave a half-laugh. "I feel… weird. But not in a bad way."
"Hmm. Weird's underrated," Plagg said, floating over. "Better than crushed by daddy dearest's expectations."
Adrien stood and stretched, glancing toward the door. No knock. No call for breakfast. No schedule being read out. Just… silence.
And in that silence, a thought bloomed—small, but stubborn.
I don't have to wait.
He turned toward his closet and grabbed clothes quickly—nothing fancy. A dark green shirt, a soft gray hoodie, black jeans. Something normal. Something easy.
At the front entrance, he paused only to scribble a note on a piece of paper and leave it on the console table:
„I'll get there myself. —A."
Outside, his bike was leaning neatly against the wall, untouched.
He unlocked it, slung his bag over his shoulder, and with a quiet breath, pushed off down the street.
The wind was crisp, the sun climbing higher.
And for the first time in a very long time, Adrien Agreste didn't feel like property being moved from one place to another.
He felt like a person in motion.
A person with a choice.
(End of Chapter)