Adrien first brought the idea up to his father.
"It would look good for the brand if I were to meet Cassandra in person. She's in the press a lot, and she probably doesn't have a lot of friends her own age. Maybe I could even convince her to model for us. She's pretty enough," he said, voice as even as if he was discussing the weather.
"She's a dancer so she's probably too short to do any traditional modeling. But, we may could make an exception given her stature in the community. Excellent thinking, Adrien. I will have Nathalie purchase the ballet ticket and ensure you have time to meet with Ms. Taylor after the performance," Gabriel said, dismissing his son with a wave of his hand.
Adrien left his father's office, his body only relaxing when his bedroom door shut behind him.
"Are you sure about this, Kid," Plagg said, zooming around the room.
"I don't have a choice. Ladybug is convinced that Cassandra is our mysterious miraculous user, and she makes a pretty convincing argument."
"Still, say you're right. What are you gonna do? Walk up to her and say, 'Hey, I love the bracelet you seem really attached to. Does it have a magical creature that comes with it?' Or, 'Hey, I know you think that bracelet is yours but I really need you to give it to me. Super-secret superhero business and all.' It's just a bad idea, Kid," Plagg said, grabbing a piece of cheese from his stash and inhaling it in one bite.
"I'll figure it out. I always do," Adrien said, flopping down on his bed.
He pulled out his phone, looking up the dancer on his phone. She seemed happy, professional, reserved. Never a hair out of place whether her long, blonde locks were in a braid, ponytail, bun. Rarely did he see a picture with her hair down even when she was barely ten and in braces, according to the article. The same words kept popping up: brilliant, beautiful, perfect.
'At least she gets called brilliant,' he thought to himself, pulling up one of her more recent photos.
She wore a pair of black leggings and sports bra with pointe shoes. Her long leg stretched straight on the barre, her arms and torso followed, the telltale bracelet still adorning her right hand. While Plagg focused on the supposed miraculous, Adrien couldn't take his eyes off of her own. Hard, determined, and so damn grey. The rest of her seemed so soft and light, like she could be thrown a hundred feet in the air at a moment's notice but those eyes ruined the image. Why did those eyes look so familiar?
"Adrien," he heard and jumped, dropping his phone.
Nathalie stood in the doorway, tablet in hand. If she noticed Adrien's surprised expression, she didn't acknowledge it.
` "Your Chinese tutor is here," she said, peering at him over her small glasses.
"Of course," Adrien said, recomposing himself, the phone long forgotten.
Days passed and soon Adrien found himself getting dressed for the ballet. He straightened his black tie for the fifth time.
"I think it's straight," Plagg said, nonchalantly eating a piece of camembert.
"I can't help it; I'm nervous," he said, slipping his loafers on.
"Who wouldn't be when they're possibly throwing themselves in the tiger's den," Plagg said.
Hey, puns are my thing," Adrien said, cracking the tiniest of smiles.
"You didn't invent them, Kid. I know, I was there."
Adrien sighed, dropping the smile. "Do you think I should've told Ladybug about my plan?"
Plagg shrugged. "She probably would've called you crazy and tried to stop you."
"True," he said, looking at himself in the mirror. He pulled on his suit jacket until it was flush against his shoulders.
"You act like you're going on a date," Plagg said dryly, sitting on Adrien's shoulders.
"This maybe my chance to finally meet another miraculous user, Plagg. One that wasn't taught by Master Fu. One that's not aligned with our side or with Shadowmoth's, hopefully. Maybe she's the answer to bringing him down."
"Unless you and Ladybug have lost your minds and she's just a regular girl who happens to like wearing bracelets. That's always a possibility," he said, swallowing another piece of camembert.
"Yeah," Adrien said, shrugging. "Thing is, if we're right, she's had the tiger miraculous for most of her life. I couldn't find a single picture without her wearing it, and she's been a ballerina in the public eye for almost as long as I've been a model."
"Do you consider that a good or a bad thing," he asked, looking at his holder.
"I don't know."
A single knock was the only warning Adrien had before Nathalie opened the door.
"The car is ready for you, Adrien."
He sat in designated seat, leg bouncing like it would catch fire if it sat still for more than ten seconds. He wiped his uncharacteristically sweaty palms on his black pants and willed his rapidly beating heart to calm.
The lights dimmed and the dancers took to the stage. They were dressed in white dresses that flowed with their bodies as they flitted across the stage. Adrien scanned the group, not finding Cassandra. Did she figure out about their upcoming meeting and run?
Men dressed in white shirts and pants followed in the ladies' footsteps and the groups merged and broke up into couples.
Soon, the music slowed, the couples parted to the edges of the stage, and Cassandra emerged. She wore a simple black halter dress the flowed to her ankles, silver jewels adorning her waist and the neckline, following the plunging neckline to her chest. Her long, blonde hair was piled on top of her head, baby hairs framing her face. A man followed her onto the stage, also dressed in black. The two danced with each other, a gentle but dangerous push and pull, almost like he was chasing her. Eventually, the man caught her and he tossed Cassandra up in the air, catching her like she weighed less than air.
Adrien watched the girl with fascination and awe, his eyes barely catching the glint of the silver bracelet sparkle underneath the stage lights.
All too soon, the lights came on, and everyone in the theater gave the company a standing ovation, Adrien included. Cassandra and the man she danced with were in the center, surrounded by the men and women in white, and Adrien was gently escorted out of the audience and to the backstage by a burly tree of a man with a black earpiece. He reminded Adrien of his own bodyguard except this man actually spoke.
"Wait here for them to get done on stage," he said and then Adrien was alone.
He took deep breaths, trying to steel his shoulders. Why was this girl so intimidating? It's not like she's going to know who you are, Adrien thought to himself.
Plagg moved around in his jacket pocket, probably annoyed at his holder's rapidly beating heart.
The strumming of a guitar brought Adrien out of his own thoughts. He strained his ears to pick up where the noise was coming from and followed the sound. The sound led him to a door, the name Cassandra Taylor plastered on it in giant, gold letters.
'Now or never,' Adrien thought, cracking the door.
Cassandra's hair was now pulled into a low ponytail, the girl's frame curled around an electric guitar.
I don't wanna die alone
I don't wanna live forsaken
I refuse to let this go
Because my soul is breaking
I don't wanna let you know
That my heart is just so jaded
I refuse to let it show
I refuse to let it go
Wake me up when this is over
I'm tired of living life like it's a dream
Please wake me up when it's all over
I'm tired of living right here in between
I refuse
I've always walked alone
I chose the path less taken
I refuse to let you in
Life's a bitch and I've been shaken
It's not a joke at all
Inside my spirit's fading
I refuse to take the fall
'Cause no one cares at all
Wake me up when this is over
I'm tired of living life like it's a dream
Please wake me up when it's all over
I'm tired of living right here in between
I refuse
'Cause at the end of the day I'm not you
I refuse
"A woman of many talents, I see," Adrien said showing himself into the room, channeling as much Cat Noir confidence as he could muster.
She shrieked, picking up her guitar like she was about to club him over the head with it.
"Who the hell are you, and why are you in my dressing room?" she said in perfect French, despite the English accent.
"I'm sorry," he said, putting his hands up, intimately aware of the fact that she had yet to put down her guitar, "I arranged with my father to meet you. I thought your people would've told you beforehand."
"They probably didn't because I would've refused," she said, slowly lowering her makeshift weapon. "I don't see anyone after a performance."
"I'm sorry," he apologized again, "I would've tried to arrange a different meeting time if I had known."
"Who are you," she repeated the question, her eyes turning to steel.
"I'm Adrien Agreste," he said, noticing the wild look in her eyes when he said his name.
"You're Adrien Agreste, son of Gabriel Agreste," she said, placing her guitar on the plush cream-colored couch with shaky hands.
'Oh, she's a fan. I wonder if this is good or bad for me,' Adrien thought to himself.
"I take it you follow the fashion world then," Adrien said, his posture slipping into the warm familiarity. He never particularly liked meeting his crazed fans but at least this was familiar.
"Is your mother's name Emilie Agreste," she asked, ignoring his question.
'Okay, maybe she's a stalker,' Adrien said, but he nodded his head anyway.
"So, you're the reason I moved to Paris," she whispered to herself, but loud enough for Adrien to hear.
"You moved to Paris for me," he asked, and a light pink covered both of their cheeks.
"Not for the reasons you're thinking," she said, taking a deep breath. "I think I might be your sister."
~Author's Note~
The song used in the story is I Refuse by Five Finger Death Punch. As always, I don't own the show or the music.
