Coryphée
A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction
By Mintaka14
Chapter Six – Coda
"I heard," one of the seamstresses said from her workstation, "that the results of the concours are going out today."
And of course, the backstage staff knew before the dancers themselves had even received the letters of offer or rejection. Marinette shifted on her stool and frowned down in concentration at the old costume she was unpicking, one laborious stitch at a time.
The names of the new premiére danseuses and premier danseurs were tossed around, and Marinette only paid them half a mind, until someone asked, "What about the new sujet? Who got that one?"
"Oh, Mireille Caquet got the promotion," someone else said, and Marinette put down the seam ripper in surprise.
"Not Lila Rossi?" she asked, and the girl across from her started laughing.
"Not in a month of Sundays," Nicolette snorted. "That one's never going to make it out of quadrilles, I can tell you that, and bad luck to her. Always so rude, and I don't envy anyone who ever gets her for fittings." She giggled. "We always make sure Mlle Rossi gets the last pick of the gowns and wigs, the one that's always just a little bit too tight or a colour she doesn't like much."
Marinette couldn't help the gasp of laughter that escaped her.
"Did you know her?" someone else asked Marinette.
"Of course she did," Nicolette said. "Marinette was in the corps until she grew a brain and got out."
Marinette just smiled and picked up the seam ripper again.
"Besides, I heard there've been discussions going on," Pascal said from his workstation as he concentrated on the placement of another sequin. "Lila Rossi pissed off the wrong person, and the Director of the Conservatory himself got involved. They're not going to renew her season's contract when it finishes soon."
That provoked an uproar in the atelier, and Marinette's seam picker fell from her fingers to bounce on the floor.
"But… she was a permanent contract! She said she was permanent."
Pascal was shaking his head gleefully. "No, no, chérie. She was a seasonal."
There was a knock on the atelier door, and a ripple of excited murmuring ran through the room.
"Marinette," one of the seamstresses said in a singsong voice. "Your boyfriend's here."
And Luka was leaning against the doorframe, his gorgeous blue eyes only on her.
"Ready to go, melody?" he asked, and Eloise Marchand waved her off with an indulgent smile.
"There's nothing that can't be done tomorrow," the costume director told her. "We'll all be packing up soon anyway. You go and enjoy your evening."
Marinette ignored the giggles and sighs as she carefully put away the costume she'd been working on and gathered up her things. It was all good-humoured, and Nicolette whispered, "You're so lucky" as Marinette passed her.
"I know," she whispered back, and then Luka took her hand, his smile lighting up, and she followed him out the door. All the way down from the sixth floor they talked about inconsequential things, and how his search for an apartment was going.
"I mean, I love the Liberty," Luka sighed, "and I'm going to miss Ma and Jules, but I'm really not going to miss Jules banging on the wall or making comments any time you come round."
Juleka had been having way too much fun with playing spoilsport lately. Marinette felt the embarrassed fire rising in her face, and changed the subject. She eyed Luka thoughtfully, and brought up a suspicion that she'd had since Pascal had shared his piece of gossip.
"I heard a rumour today that Lila's seasonal contract with the company is getting cancelled, and that the Director of the Conservatory of Music was involved. You wouldn't have had anything to do with that, would you?" she asked, and he cast his eyes up.
"I may have had a conversation with my mother's ex-boyfriend who just happens to be the Director of the Conservatory," he said with feigned innocence. "The subject of Lila may have come up."
"Luka!" She shoved his arm gently, and then sighed. "I could almost feel sorry for her. She was never going to get ahead in the company, and I think she knew it."
"She put glass in your shoes," Luka said, and she shouldn't have found that rumbling growl in his voice as sexy as she did. Distracted by that thought, it took her a moment to realise that he was watching her.
"Do you wish I hadn't said anything?" he asked her, and she subjected that to some consideration.
"No, I think I'm glad you did. If she's done things like that to me to get what she wants, she'll do it again to someone else if she's left unchecked," Marinette said. They'd reached the entrance hall, and Luka held the door open for her. "That recording was only going to hold her back for so long."
He took her hand again as they crossed the courtyard and passed under the huge and embellished stone archway, and steered her in the opposite direction when she started to turn towards the metro.
"How do you feel about dinner at Midi12 tonight?" She gave him a startled glance, and he shrugged self-consciously. "I finished my thesis today, and I feel like celebrating, and galette."
Marinette stopped and flung her arms around him. "Luka! Why didn't you say anything?"
"I still have to edit a couple of things, and get my supervisor's okay on it, but… it'll be ready to hand to her when she gets back from Madrid in a few weeks. The research component's all done."
She glowed up at him. "We definitely need to celebrate."
Palais Garnier loomed majestically behind them. The sky above the streets was still waiting for sunset, but the late afternoon air was starting to grow heavy and the golden light from the cafes and restaurants spilled over the grey slabs of concrete under their feet. It was starting to turn cooler, and the figures around them were hurrying a little now. Marinette leaned into Luka's warmth, and he put an arm around her as they walked.
Marinette shot him a mischievous look. "You do know Papa does much better galette than Midi12?"
"Tom does better pastries than anyone," Luka agreed, then his grin became a little wry. "I'd just kind of like you all to myself for a little while before we have to head home."
"I like the sound of that."
The umbrellas outside the Palais Garnier restaurant were furled behind the stone balustrade and hedge, but they could hear the distant clink of china and cutlery, and the soft hum of voices from the early patrons. Classical statues gazed down indifferently from their perches along the balustrade, and the huge iron streetlamps weren't lit yet. They made dark, spiky silhouettes against the thick blue sky.
"So how did things go for you today?" Luka asked, running his thumb along the edge of her hand.
"Well, it wasn't finished the thesis exciting, but Mme Marchand has me going through the costume archives right now, and I've been unpicking some of the old costumes to try and match fabrics. It's fascinating, the way it was constructed. I'm learning so much, and so much of what I did when I was on stage makes a lot more sense now. She said she'll take me to the fabric warehouses with her the next time she has to source something." Luka grinned at the little skip of enthusiasm that she couldn't suppress. "It's going to be exhausting once my course gets underway, trying to juggle that and the residency program, but it'll be worth it. I'll get to work on the next season costumes – Adrien said his father's sponsoring again, so they're going to be stunning."
Luka was watching her with a half-smile. "You saw Adrien?"
"I caught up with some of the company for lunch today, and Adrien was there."
"How is he?"
Marinette giggled. "He's started sneaking out to date the daughter of one of his father's business associates, so he's happy."
"Sneaking out? Does his father disapprove or something?"
"I don't think so," Marinette said with a shrug. "I think Adrien's just developed a taste for sneaking around. He's got a lot of years of rebellion to catch up on, apparently."
Luka laughed. "You're a bad influence, melody."
"He's heard a rumour that next season is going to be La Bayadère, and I love the costumes for that. The colours are just glorious, and I'm really looking forward to seeing what M. Agreste's take on it is."
"Any regrets that it won't be you wearing those costumes?" he asked.
"Not really. No. I mean, I have the odd moment when I miss that feeling, but I'd much rather be making them than dancing in them."
They turned away from the Palais Garnier in its opulent grandeur, an isolated island of magnificence, into the noisier streets where the rumble and honk of traffic was overlaid with voices and conversation and laughter. Buildings and shops crowded above Marinette and Luka as they strolled towards the crêperie, lost in their own world.
"So, no regrets?" he repeated quietly, and Marinette knew he was asking about more than just costumes. She couldn't help laughing.
"I got away with the heist without going to prison, I got into a course that I'm loving for a career that I'm excited about, and Mme Marchand got me into a residency that most people in theatre design would kill for, even though I haven't got my qualifications yet."
She lifted her hand and brushed her fingertips along the line of his jaw, loving the feel of his breath on her palm as he leaned into her touch.
"And I get to go home with the man I adore," she said softly. "No regrets. Not ever."
There was something in the way that Luka was looking at her that brought a blush to her cheeks and left her heart stumbling in her chest.
"What are you thinking?"
He ducked his head until the blue tips of his hair shadowed his eyes, but she could see the soft smile curling the corners of his mouth.
"I can't tell you, because you didn't want me to get too far ahead of myself. Ask me again when you've finished your degree."
Her eyes widened.
"Oh," she said, a little breathlessly. "Oh. Okay."
They walked a little further. Marinette glanced up at him.
"That's a whole three years away," she said pensively, and his eyes were back on her now. "Would you tell me if I asked when I've completed my residency?"
There was that quality of stillness in the way he was holding himself, as if he didn't quite dare to believe what he thought he was hearing. "That's... June. End of June."
"Is that too soon?" she asked, and gave a faint squeak as Luka kissed her hard, and kissed her again, and again until they melted into softer kisses, heedless of the people passing by. Her hands came up to tangle in his hair, and his arms were around her, pulling her close while life moved on around them. Perhaps there were a few frowns, or a few indulgent smiles, thrown their way, but neither of them noticed.
"June, tomorrow, today, whenever you want," he breathed when they finally came up for air, his voice a little husky. "I'm yours, melody."
And Marinette pulled him down for another kiss, too happy to speak.
Ed notes: Here ends Coryphee, which has been a lot of fun to play with. Huge thanks go to the LBSC crowd - you guys are beyond awesome, and a pack of enablers, the lot of you. I hope you've enjoyed Marinette and Luka in the Paris Opera Ballet, and I'd love to hear what you thought of it. Thank you for reading.