The Adventures of Marvelous Honeybee and Loup Gris

by tristinai

My name is Elsa. A girl like anyone else. But when fate calls upon me to fight the forces of evil, I become the Marvelous Honeybee! (Jelsa, Miraculous Ladybug AU)

Author's Note: Here's a one-shot I wrote, inspired by the Miraculous Ladybug animated series I have been watching! This AU is inspired so Elsa and Jack do not take on the Ladybug and Chat Noir alter egos, but have their own kwami. Set in Paris, France, I wrote this one shot with the sense that this would read like an episode from the tv series. There are going to be obvious changes: Elsa and Jack are Lycée students (Senior high school), unlike Marionette and Adrien, who I feel are implied Collège students (Junior High School). I used the French education system throughout this fic so please refer to the end notes for more information. Also, I apologize if the French is a bit too Canadian. I went as far as to research French surnames for the OCs after I realized I kept giving them typical French-Canadian surnames. Metric system and Euros are used. Also did my best to translate as much of the French as possible (and tried not to go too over the top with it). As a Canadian, I studied French in my youth so I tried not to take for granted that I grew up in a bilingual environment. I also tried to use the French sparingly.

Some other important changes:

For the sake of adding more realism to the setting, some of the characters have been given French equivalents of their names.

Jack Frost is Jacques Faust-Beauchamp

Emily is Émilie

Agnarr is Antoine Dubois

E. Aster Bunnymund is Emmanuel Aster

Fred (BH6) is Frederick Montagne

Although the fic starts out with a French summary, the English translation of this is in the summary this fic is posted under. One last thing: Jacques' alter-ego is Loup Gris, which means "gray wolf".

Warnings: Bad language, terrible puns. Also, mentions of bullying between the students.

---

The Adventures of Marvelous Honeybee and Loup Gris

Je m'appelle Elsa,
Une fille comme les autres.
Mais quand le destin me choisit pour lutter contre les forces du mal,
Je deviens Marvelous Honeybee!

"Don't forget he's behind you!" the voice screeched in her head.

Elsa tumbled to the left, somersaulting away as she felt "Fredzilla's" claws swipe across her back. It tore a small line into the yellow leotard but, luckily, didn't cut too deeply into her skin. The cool, autumn air nipped at the exposed surface wound, making it sting like a paper cut.

It's like fighting an oversized cat, she thought, irritably.

But if it was a game of cat-and-mouse then Elsa, much to her dismay, was the mouse. For the last quarter hour, the Marvelous Honeybee, Paris' famed heroine in yellow and black spandex, has spent most of the battle dodging fiery breath, tumbling away from the creature's claws, and sprinting across rooftops to get it off her tail. Her battle strategy, or lack of, was making her an easy target. She needed to rethink her approach before she became Paris' once famed, extra crispy heroine in yellow and black spandex.

"Prepare to die, Honeybee!" the raspy, laidback voice called.

The blue akuma paused for a moment, its entire body shaking as it cackled. But Elsa was not fooled: she had already seen the extent of its abilities. The way that its wide torso contracted, it was about to—

Merde! Elsa mentally cursed. (1)

"Language!" the voice in her head chastised.

Elsa stepped back, her foot teetering off the ledge of the rooftop. A large, blue-yellow flame burst from Fredzilla's mouth. She twisted her body away, attempting to regain her balance on the ledge but felt her body begin the descent eight stories below.

Why does it always have to be a rooftop battle? She thought, already feeling dread set in.

Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she desperately tried to reach for the ledge. But as she reached out to grasp at anything, she realized she was only clawing at air. She was slipping, falling to her death. At only 15, it hardly seemed fair! Sure, the possibility of death came with the job description but she could already think of far better ways to get out of tomorrow's algebra test.

I'm sorry for letting you down, Lykke…

Just then, she felt something wrap around her wrist. The black material twisted around up to her elbow, gripping her tightly. No longer plummeting to her death, she swayed against the wall of the building, twisting so that most of the impact went into her shoulder each time her body hit the wall. Her blue eyes then darted up to get a good look at her savior. Another masked vigilante, wearing gray spandex with unruly, silver hair, grinned wolfishly down at her, his black whip in hand.

"I always knew you'd eventually fall for my charm," he chuckled. "Just not this literally."

She wanted to groan aloud but had enough self-control to keep her internal monologue internal.

I'm starting to wish he had let me fall.

"Elsa!" Lykke reprimanded in her head.

The vigilante pulled Elsa back up, wrapping an arm securely around her petite waist. He leaned in close, one of his pointed, gray ears brushing against Elsa's hair. She already had her eye roll prepared as he whispered huskily into her ear.

"Miss me, my lady?"

"Duck," she sighed.

His clear blue eyes blinked behind his gray mask in confusion. She pushed him down onto the roof, tumbling away as another blast of fire nearly burnt both of them to a crisp. She may have taken more pleasure in seeing him face plant than she dare admit.

"Thank you, my lady!" Loup Gris said, grinning at her.

The gray spandex wearing vigilante, better known to Paris as Loup Gris, was both the king of bad puns and Honeybee's partner against the forces of evil. In the beginning, when they had first learned of each other and decided to team up, Elsa had welcomed his assistance against Pitch Black's akuma. But his constant recklessness and flirtatious jokes eventually began grating on her nerves. There were some days where she couldn't help but wonder if she would have been better off fighting the akuma on her own.

"So, like, someone better give me their marvelous thing!" Fredzilla said. "Or I'm about to serve loup grille with a side of abeille frit."(2)

Despite speaking in Frederick's chill tone, it was clear the akuma was getting frustrated. Its three yellow eyes glanced from Loup Gris to Honey Bee, before making its decision.

"Feel the burn, wolfie!"

It lunged towards Loup Gris, swiping at the masked hero. Loup Gris dodged, leaping to the side and lunging forward to bounce off Fredzilla's back. The impact had the akuma stumbling forward until it lost its footing and crashed onto the rooftop.

"Wolfie?" Loup Gris exclaimed. "The name's Loup Gris. But the ladies," and this time, he leered at Honeybee, "can call me mon petit loup."(3)

Elsa had to swallow back against her desire to gag.

"You, on the other hand, are no friend of mine, my fire-breathing nemesis," Loup Gris declared. "You're not even a master of puns! I mean, if I had the power to set people on fire, I would have went with something more fitting."

Is he seriously doing this right now?! Elsa wanted to think her partner had more sense than to lecture their enemy on catch phrases. Then again, sensible wasn't exactly on top of the list of words she would use to describe him.

"Burn-appetit, Loup Gris!…or 'Prepare to become flame mignon!…"

As the akuma tried to get back up, Loup Gris kicked it back down, continuing his list.

"…or why not, 'The best defense is a fire-arm!' and then try to set my arms on fire…"

Elsa felt as if her ears were starting to bleed. And looking at the akuma, she could tell it was a shared sentiment. It was time to end this.

Elsa's eyes glanced over the akuma. There had to be something that was storing its dark energy. An object that channeled the akuma's negativity and gave each one its unique abilities. Something like—

"Loup Gris! His tail!"

Loup Gris seemed miffed to have been interrupted. But as he looked to where Elsa was pointing, a wide grin spread across his face. On the akuma's tail hung a small, bright green whistle on one of the spikes. Elsa always saw it around Fred's neck at school.

Loup Gris tore the whistle off its string, flinging it towards Elsa. Once the akuma became aware of what was happening, it screeched and struggled to get back on its feet. But it was already too late.

Pulling off the silver stinger on the back of her belt, Elsa unfurled it until it became a silver, metallic fan. She threw it towards the airborne whistle, the sharp fan spinning like a disc as it cut through the air. As always, her aim was true and it sliced the whistle in half.

"Nooooo!" the akuma groaned. "Mssr. Baptiste said I'd have detention for a month if I lost that!"

Elsa felt bad. Their school's principal was not known for making light threats. Many were surprised when resident class clown Frederick Montagne had been chosen as hall monitor but the school staff was hoping the new responsibilities would distract the wily student from his usual antics.

Unfortunately, it didn't stop her jovial classmate from becoming Pitch Black's latest threat to the city.

The two pieces of the whistle clattered onto the red tile of the rooftop. Dark energy wisped out of the broken whistle, curling up towards the sky like a recently doused flame. A small, black butterfly emerged from the leftover pieces and began to flutter away.

"No so fast, little papillon,"(4) Elsa said.

Her fan boomeranged back into her hand. Flattening it, she stretched out her hand and waited until the black butterfly landed on its surface. She then swiftly closed the fan and returned it to its conic shape. Although it appeared as if nothing was happening, she could feel the tremor beneath her gloved fingertips, indicating that her magic was cleansing the tainted butterfly. After a few moments, she opened it and smiled as a white butterfly flew away.

"My face," someone mumbled.

The once blue akuma had reverted back to a teenage boy. Sprawled face down on the rooftop, Fred's lanky frame made one attempt at pushing himself up before collapsing once more and passing out. Elsa bent down to check his pulse, nearly breathing a sigh of relief when she felt his strong heartbeat.

"He'll be alright," she said.

Loup Gris pointed to the rooftop. "I can't say the same about this roof."

The damage the akuma had done was quite extensive. A lot of the rooftop and part of the side of the building was singed to dark charcoal. Even the park below, where the akuma had first attacked, was littered with broken statues and burnt flora.

"Nothing I can't fix," Elsa declared.

Opening her fan, she flung it straight up into the air. It spun and released light energy, the same kind of energy used to heal the butterfly. All around them, the damage left by the akuma was repaired, returning everything to the state it had been before Fredzilla had attacked.

As she retrieved it, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Saving the day had taken its toll on her. Her transformation would be wearing off shortly.

"We need to go," Lykke reminded her.

"Another day, another victory. All made paw-ssible by Loup Gris and his lovely Honeybee," Loup Gris declared. He gripped her hand, twirling her close and dipping her dramatically. Her lose braid dangled mere centimeters above the red tiles. "And now, ma Cherie (5), how about a kiss for your wolf in shining fur?"

More like the ham in wolf's clothing, she thought.

Miraculously, Elsa somehow avoided rolling her eyes once again. As Loup Gris leaned in close, his lips puckered in expectation, Elsa laughed nervously, pressing a gloved finger to his lips and halting his advance. "Another time. My marvelous is running out."

Understanding the gentle rejection in her tone, Loup Gris simply smiled and helped her stand upright. "But of course, my Honey. I will give you some privacy."

Bowing low, he once again took her hand in his, kissing it gently. Elsa was annoyed to feel heat splash across her cheeks. But for anyone who could hear her inner dialogue, it was a toss-up for whether the embarrassment came from his exaggerated gallantry or her forced association with him in their line of work.

"Until next time."

He winked and then took off across the rooftops. Once he was no longer in sight, Elsa felt her yellow and black leotard disappear in an eruption of sparkles until she was standing in her pale denim skinny jeans and white blouse. She could feel her golden bee pins glow, a pair of accessories she used to decorate her braid. As the glow faded, a small figure apparated (6) in the air beside her.

No bigger than the palm of her hand, the small, yellow and black creature floated in front of her face. Its large, golden eyes blinked at her curiously while its black antennae sensed the air around them. Although wingless, it still resembled a bee, with black horizontal stripes on its midsection and a black tail that was pointed like a stinger.

Recalling her recent frustration with her partner, Elsa couldn't help but groaned. "Remind me why we have to work with him again, Lykke?"

The Kwami smiled. While Elsa found Loup Gris' behavior difficult to put up with, Lykke always managed to be the voice of reason and seemed to welcome the vigilante's carefree attitude. "He's like us, Elsa. He has his own kwami and was chosen to stop Pitch."

"Couldn't his kwami have chosen someone more serious?"

Or less annoying, Elsa silently added.

"He's more serious than the last person Fang worked with," Lykke said.

Elsa thought the kwami had to be joking. However, Lykke regarded her with the same blatant honesty she always used when offering her insight into the double-life Elsa had only recently taken on. Not long ago, Lykke had told her that the kwami chose new companions when the old ones give up this life or…well, the alternative could have happened if Loup Gris hadn't caught her when she fell.

He's saved my life as many times as I've saved his, I'll give him that.

"I guess I should thank my lucky stars, then," Elsa muttered sarcastically. If this was the vigilante's behavior incognito, she would hate to meet him in person. Though she would be lying if she said she hadn't considered who the guy was beneath the gray mask.

Once more, Fred started groaning as he slowly regained consciousness. Knowing that her presence on this rooftop would only raise more questions, Elsa nodded to Lykke and opened her book bag so the kwami could hide inside it. Then, carefully walking towards the edge closest to the fire escape, she hopped down onto the platform and began descending the stairs.

Just as she was about to slip away and disappear in one of the many narrow alleys that made up the center of Paris, she heard Fred's voice carry loud and bewildered from the rooftop above.

"…how the hell did I get up here?"

.

Somewhere beyond the hustle of the city's center, in a place filled with shadows, a lone figure stood before a giant screen. This lone figure, as tall and foreboding as his face was pale and unforgiving, grew increasingly frustrated as the events of the battle unfolded before him. His yellow eyes, hidden beneath a dark mask, darted between Honeybee and the akuma he had sent, like how a cat waits in the shadows, tracking its prey until it is ready to pounce. But as the battle came to its close, it became apparent that the prey would once more slip through his fingers.

The wide screen now panned in closer to the unmoving form of Frederick Montagne. With the akuma taken out, Honeybee released a shower of bright sparkles across the rooftop, taking away the charring left by the akuma's attack. Pitch Black could feel the rage bubbling beneath the surface and his clenched hands that remained at his sides began to shake.

"Foiled again!" he said, his raspy voice hitting a low octave.

The screen overlooking Paris shut off.

Moving with ease through the shadows, Pitch tried to contain the angry fit brewing inside of him. He could twist shadows into nightmares, infuse the glowing butterflies that fluttered around the room with a dark energy that could twist the purest of hearts into an abomination that would unleash havoc on his enemies. So why couldn't he steal two trinkets from two lousy teens? How many months has it been since he began pursuing the Marvelous with nothing to show for it? How many times was he to be made a fool by Honeybee and that insufferable Loup Gris?

He needed a new plan. And this time, he was going to be victorious.

.

15 year old Elsa Dubois-Lindahl was like any other seconde (7) student. She did her best to complete all her homework, spent her afternoons helping out at her parents' café, and had her moments where she bemoaned the trials of being a teenager to her best friend, Tip Tucci. In other ways, she wasn't so typical: she often felt more comfortable with her nose in a book than engaging in the gossip mill that permeated all corners of Ecole Lycée Sacre Coeur (8). Oh, and there was that little detail about her being Paris' masked heroine.

For the most part, she led a busy life. It was any wonder she kept her grades up. And despite her worries about this morning's algebra test, another late night of reviewing paid off. Falling to her death via battle against the forces of evil was no longer a preferable option to tackling another of Mssr. Michaud's stress-inducing tests (though she had her days when she would rather face the akuma).

Stifling a yawn behind her hand, Elsa straightened her posture and tried to appear attentive. These late nights were taking a toll on her but the last thing she wanted was to disappoint Mme. Lévêque, who always relied on her to show some interest in the history lessons while everyone else was on the verge of passing out.

"—and do you recall which body of work by Denis Diderot contributed to the prevailing anti-aristocratic rhetoric of the time? Anyone? Mssr. Beauchamp?"

All eyes turned to where Jacques Faust-Beauchamp was snoring quietly at the back of the class. A few of their classmates snickered while Mme. Lévêque loudly cleared her throat. When that failed to awaken the snoring student, his best friend, Emannuel Aster, elbowed him sharply.

"Ng?" Jacques yawned, blinking his blue eyes tiredly.

When he noticed the irate look their middle-aged history teacher was giving him, Jacques straightened his posture immediately. His unruly, wild brown hair, that had the appearance of being perpetually wind-tousled, now stuck out at odd ends from the angle he had been sleeping.

"I asked you a question, Mssr. Beauchamp."

Jacques blushed a deep shade of red. "Uh…could you please repeat it?"

"She would but she doesn't speak 'moron', Frost," Hans said loudly, earning him another chuckle from the other students. The glare on the instructor's face managed to silence most of them, who squirmed under her scrutiny.

Jacques looked like he wanted to retort but Emannuel was shaking his head at him. Elsa felt genuinely bad for her classmate for being put on the spot like that.

"Mssr. Westergaard," Mme. Lévêque began, "since you seem so eager to interject, perhaps you can answer the question."

"That's easy," Hans said, smugly. "Everyone knows that Diderot's Discours was very influential in the Enlightenment period."

Elsa's brows furrowed in confusion. That's not even a work by Diderot…

"Actually," she interrupted, "while it is true that Jean Jacques Rousseau's Discours," she emphasized the author's name, making it clear to Hans how incorrect he had been, "was an important contributor to the rhetoric in the late enlightenment, I believe Mme. Lévêque was referring to Diderot's Encyclopedie."

Many of the students laughed as Hans' smug smirk was replaced with an embarrassed scowl. Elsa caught Jacques gaze and flushed when he smiled gratefully at her. She normally wasn't so blunt in correcting her classmates, especially since she was a bit self-conscious about showing off in class, but Hans had crossed the line of civility when he had openly insulted Jacques.

"Very good, Mlle. Lindahl," Mme. Lévêque said. "Now, if only your classmates showed a similar enthusiasm for philosophy."

Elsa flushed under the praise. But Tip, who was sitting to her right, gave Elsa a small thumbs up.

"Miss Know-it-all," Hans mumbled.

The snide remark used to cut Elsa more deeply, especially in the first few months of starting high school. "The only reason you ever say anything in class is to make yourself look better than everyone else," Hans had told her back in September. That was after only a few weeks of sharing classes and her knowing little else about him, other than his shared name with the mayor of the city. The following instances of his criticism and bullying of her made her more nervous about responding to anything in her classes.

"He's just jealous," Tip had reassured her. "Another rich boy with nothing but his dad's name to get him through life. Don't let him get to you."

Eventually, his comments rolled off her thicker skin instead of sticking to her like glue. However, this comment wasn't without an audience: the dead silence that followed Mme. Lévêque's praise seemed to amplify his remark.

"Interrupting again, Mssr. Westergaard?" the teacher said, cocking a brow. If she was unimpressed with him before, she was even less impressed now. "Perhaps we can discuss your behavior after class? Yours as well, Mssr. Beauchamp."

Hans glared daggers at the back of Elsa's head, as if it was her fault. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end but she refused to shrink in her seat, wasn't going to let him have the satisfaction of upsetting her.

Jacques, on the other hand, groaned loudly and dropped his head on his desk.

.

"—sleeping in class again, Jacques? This needs to stop."

Mme. Lévêque had already switched to using his first name. He knew he was in trouble.

The seconde year student shuffled a bit anxiously, shifting his weight between his feet as he balanced his shoulder bag. He tried not to move it around too much since he knew Fang, his kwami, was probably chomping away on jerky in there. How was he to explain to his teacher that he was up late saving Paris?

"I'm sorry, Mme. Lévêque. It won't happen again," he promised. But Jacques knew this was a promise he wasn't able to keep.

Ever since becoming Loup Gris a few months ago, Jacques has struggled to balance his vigilantism with being a teenager. The nights he wasn't up late saving the city, he was running to shoots or hastily finishing the homework that just wouldn't stop piling up. Whatever spare moment he had was spent with either his younger sister or with him passed out on any available surface. And now, that too was also happening in class.

Fang told him he would eventually get the hang of it but Jacques couldn't help but wonder when that would be. He just seemed to fall behind farther in school and most days were a struggle to get up in the morning.

Still, he couldn't help but think, I wouldn't give it up for anything.

Not when he got to be by her side, even if only temporarily.

Mme. Lévêque sighed, breaking Jacques' train of thought. She tapped her pencil against her desk. "I want to believe you, Jacques. But I have a feeling this will happen again. I know you model part time for your father's company. However, I think it is time him and I have a discussion on your ability to balance work and school."

At the mention of his father, all warm thoughts of the mysterious Honeybee were replaced by the cold, sinking dread that only Vincent Faust-Beauchamp could make Jacques feel. Just the idea of Mme. Lévêque speaking to him made the color drained from Jacques' face. His father, the CEO of L'hiver Technologique Inc (9), a company that specializes in winter wear and sporting equipment, was an incredibly busy man. He hardly made time to spend with his own children. Jacques had begun modeling for their ad campaign in the hopes he could get more of his father's attention. The last thing he wanted was for this to be added to the list of disappointments that seemed to drive a further wedge between him and his father.

"M-Mme. Lévêque," Jacques stuttered. "There's no need, really. I'll study harder. I'll even do makeup assignments. Just please, don't—"

A loud yawn interrupted their conversation. Jacques looked over his shoulder to see a very bored Hans leaning against his desk, nonchalantly standing with his arms folded. Jacques glared at his classmate.

"Another sob story, Frost? Save the crocodile tears for dear old daddy."

Faust, Jacques had to keep himself from saying. They've been classmates since attending collège (10) together but Hans always purposely got his name wrong, if only to belittle him in front of the other students.

"I really don't see why I need to be here," Hans complained.

"Because you insist on antagonizing your classmates during the lessons, Hans," Mme Lévêque said.

"I did not give you permission to refer to me by my given name," Hans retorted, icily. "You will call me Mssr. Westergaard or my father will be hearing about this."

"You will be addressed with a title befitting a monsieur when you stop acting like a child," Mme. Lévêque replied. From the way her fingers gripped her pen, Jacques could tell Hans was really stepping on her toes right now. He was surprised she managed to keep her cool this well since the tall redhead had a tendency to bring out the worst in their teachers.

It's going to be collège all over again, Jacques thought, with a grimace. Hans had antagonized their homeroom teacher most of last year to the point where the poor man had gone into early retirement.

"And now, to the point at hand, if Mssr. Westergaard has no other grievance he wishes to add." When Hans said nothing, Mme. Lévêque continued. "I can't teach my lessons if every time my back is turned, one of you is sleeping and the other is talking down to everyone else. I expected better out of both of you, especially considering who your fathers are."

In Hans' case, his family may not have been as wealthy as the Faust-Beauchamps, but the Westergaards were respected politicians that participated in all sectors of civil service. A good handful of Hans' twelve brothers were either lawyers, judges, or policy makers. There was one serving on the board of education, a fact Jacques only knew since Hans let everyone know last year (and most likely the answer to their homeroom teacher's early retirement) while another one or two were senators. Hans' father politically could boast the most clout since he served as mayor of the city.

Jacques genuinely felt bad for having caused a problem in History class. But from the look on Hans' face, it was clear that the redhead didn't have the same guilt wearing on his conscience.

"Is that all, Mme. Lévêque?"

Mme. Lévêque struggled to hide her shock at Hans' exceptionally rude behavior. "I expected an apology at the very least and the promise of improvement, Hans."

"That's Mssr. Westergaard," Hans said, his tone only increasing its frosty edge. "And if anyone should be apologizing, it should be you, Mme. Lévêque. Class ended 10 minutes ago and I am already running late for my private fencing lessons. Do you know how expensive it is to get ex-fencing champion Pierre Lapointe to train you? Ah, right. On that pathetic salary you make, you can hardly afford that broken down Pinto you drive or that hand-me down Chanel coat."

Mme. Lévêque gasped. And while Jacques would often let Hans' obnoxious comments roll off of him, he couldn't stand the hurt look on his teacher's face.

"You've got a really pissy attitude problem, Westergaard," Jacques said, clenching his hands into fists. "Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?"

Try speaking to her like that again when I've got my gray mask on, he thought, angrily. It went against everything Fang had taught him, to use his abilities against a civilian, but Jacques had never been this tempted to break the rules.

"Oh, she taught me all I need to put up with insolent swine," Hans replied, smirking, "because she's actually around."

The insult that had been carefully veiled in such an offhand comment cut Jacques deeper than anything else Hans could have said. Absent from his life since she left his workaholic father 6 years earlier, Jacques has never quite forgiven Marie Faust-Beauchamp, nee Favre, from taking her settlement money and travelling the world, with only the occasional postcard and hardly a care for the wellbeing of her children. It was her absence that made his father bury himself deeper in his work and left their once perfect family in tatters.

Jacques could feel his nails digging sharply into the palms of his hands as he forced himself to not wipe the smirk off his classmate's face.

"That's quite enough," Mme. Lévêque said. The warning look she gave Jacques made him, reluctantly, unclench his fists. Turning back to Hans, she added, "Your father will be hearing about more than your rudeness to your classmates."

But Hans was more than finished with this discussion, even if Jacques was not ready to let him leave the room in one piece.

"I'm sure he will," Hans sneered. "You can forward your remarks to my butler, Guillaume. I have more important matters to attend to."

He arrogantly picked up his bag and made his way to the door.

"Hans, you are not dismissed," Mme. Lévêque said angrily.

He didn't bother looking back as he stepped through the doorway. "Oh, I believe I am, Mme. Lévêque. Nice chat."

He slammed the door behind him, making the history teacher flinch. Jacques, on the other hand, was fighting every instinct that told him to teach a well-needed lesson in "respect" to his insubordinate classmate. But after 4 and a half years of shared classes with the youngest of the Westergaard sons, Jacques knew he had to pick his battles. Today was just another reminder of why he should have transferred the day he learned Hans was once again in the same school as him.

He looked apologetically to his teacher. At the very least, he could make up for the lack of humility shown by Hans.

"Again, I'm really sorry about sleeping in class…" he started.

Mme. Lévêque's expression softened. As on edge as Hans had made her, she seemed pacified by having at least one of her students show her some respect.

"I understand it can be difficult, Jacques," she started, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But you need to try and improve your behavior, not to mention your grades. How about instead of cutting back on your modeling, I offer another suggestion?"

.

He smiled at me, Elsa thought, a giddy shiver running down her spine.

She retrieved her algebra book from her locker, placing it in her bag. Ever since class had ended, she had been on a little high. She had hardly exchanged more than a look with Jacques Faust-Beauchamp but the gratitude she had seen in his dreamy blue eyes was enough to make her heart beat a little faster. It also helped chase the discomfort left by Hans, whose vitriol was no doubt directed at someone else by now. She swore he was born with a permanent chip in his shoulder.

"Still floating on cloud nine?" Tip asked, leaning against the locker beside Elsa's. She smiled knowingly at her best friend.

"I-I have no clue what you are talking about," Elsa said.

But she couldn't hide the hot flush that filled her cheeks.

"Girl, you have it as bad as everyone else in Jacques Beauchamp's personal fan club," Tip replied, giggling. "And before you go on denying it: I'm your best friend. Have been since we were out of diapers. Don't even try telling me you're not getting all gooey-eyed because a young, hot model smiled at you like you told him he won the lottery."

Elsa had never talked about her crush on Jacques. Truth be told, she was a bit ashamed to fall so hard for someone with a pretty face. Many of the girls at their school worshipped the ground he walked on simply because he had become the new face of one of France's hottest sporting brands.

But it wasn't his face being plastered everywhere that made her fall for his shy grin or expressive eyes. It had all started a month before at Collège Jean de Brébeuf (11)…

.

It was late afternoon in the middle of November and there were still trees bearing their typical green leaves. The turn of the season had crept slowly this year, bringing an unseasonable warmth to September and October. Although there was a faint chill was in the air, Elsa was still wearing the same blue coat she used on the chillier summer nights.

Standing by the gates outside her sister's school, she glanced once more at her watch. It was already nearly 5 pm. Her sister was probably just finishing practice for the school play. Elsa had offered to go to the auditorium to find Anna but Anna had insisted that Elsa wait out here since she didn't want Elsa to watch her perform before the play was ready.

"It will ruin the surprise!" the 12 year old had insisted.

Despite Anna being so secretive about the play, Elsa was incredibly proud of Anna for having earned the role of the Snow Queen in the Nutcracker. Unlike Elsa, whose talent was showcased in the sketches that littered her books or the creative designs she made on the baked goods at the café, Anna had a beautiful voice and a boisterous energy that made her a natural on the stage.

As Elsa remained standing near the gates, a crack in the sky broke her thoughts. Within moments, light rain poured down. The soothing pitter-patter of the drizzle sounded almost musical on the quiet street, but Elsa was still worn from a battle she had fought earlier. If anything, the sound reminded her of how tired she was and her strong desire to curl up in bed the moment she got home.

Just my luck, she thought.

She rifled through her book bag.

"Lykke, do you see an umbrella in there?" Elsa whispered. She tried her best to shield her books from the rain as she continued her search.

The small, yellow figure crawled over Elsa's pencil case. She looked up at Elsa, her large, golden eyes twinkling. Elsa almost wanted to smile as she noticed the cookie crumbs on the kwami's face. "Sorry, Elsa. I think you left it in your room."

Elsa was about to say something else when the sound of a car door closing made her lift her head. She carefully closed her book bag. The last thing she wanted was for someone to think she was talking to herself.

"Hey, you're…Elsa, right?"

A figure emerged from the limousine that had pulled up by the gate. Carrying a small, gray umbrella, the teen approached Elsa, his gait and blue eyes sparking an odd sense of déjà vu. But as he stood beside her, politely holding the umbrella so that it protected her more than himself from the rain, she realized she was looking at her classmate.

"Forget your umbrella?"

She shook away the strange feeling that had overcome her. "Oh. Hello, Jacques."

They've been classmates for only a few months now. Strange how this was the first time they ever communicated outside of class.

Remembering that he had asked her a question, she blushed. "Ah, yes. I—I must have been in a hurry today. There's really no need to—"

"No, no. I insist," he said, with a smile. Rainwater dripped onto his designer coat, probably more expensive than anything Elsa owned. She felt bad but she could see how determined he was to be chivalrous to a classmate he hardly knew. "What kind of person would I be if I let you get drenched out here."

She was surprised at how kind his smile was, reaching his eyes. It made her pulse flutter in a way that she wasn't used to.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, she tried to think of something to say before the awkward moment stretched any longer.

"Do you know someone who goes here?"

He glanced behind her shoulder at the school and nodded. "Yeah. I'm waiting on my sister. She's got my hair color, pretty brown eyes—don't tell her I said that, she'll never let me forget it!—about a meter and a half tall. World class loveable terror." With a grin, he added, "you can tell her I said that last part."

Elsa giggled. Jacques was always so quiet in class, mostly because he seemed to try and sink into the desk and avoid getting called on by their instructors. She didn't know he had a sense of humor. "She sounds wonderful."

"A wonderful pain-in-the-neck," Jacques said, with a teasing grin. "She's gotten worse since getting a part in the school play. She now uses the excuse of 'dramatic license' to push around her big brother at home."

Her and Jacques exchanged a laugh. For the first time in a while, Elsa felt at ease with someone other than her family or Tip. She wasn't the most social student in her class and often felt shy when interacting with her classmates.

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods?" Jacques asked.

"I have my own ginger-haired 'loveable terror' to pick up. She's also in the school play," Elsa answered.

"Does she also spend every night pacing the halls and belting out notes?"

"She did that before she tried out for the play."

Jacques grasped his chest. "Trust me, I feel your pain."

They chatted a bit longer, mostly discussing the latest homework from their French literature class. The more they conversed, the warmer Elsa felt. She had always brushed Jacques off as just another pretty face and was surprised to learn how much he cared about his family.

"—so I'm hoping my dad will ease up a little and, you know, just spend some time with us," Jacques admitted. His face reddened and he laughed a bit shyly. "Sorry. I doubt you wanna hear all about the rich boy's 'daddy issues'."

Elsa shook her head, her expression soft. "I don't mind."

They both exchanged a shy look.

"You're really easy to talk to, Elsa," Jacques said.

Elsa wanted to say more but was interrupted by the patter of rushing footsteps.

"Jacques!" a young girl said, squeezing in between them and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. As Jacques said, the siblings shared the same shade of hair. One thing he hadn't mentioned is they also shared the same smile, one that could light up an entire room. Just looking at the affection shared between them made something warm bubble up inside of Elsa.

"Émilie, how was practice?"

The 11 year old bounced giddily, not caring that she was hopping around in the rain. "It was so amazing! I got to try my sugarplum fairy costume today! It is so pretty, Jacques!"

"I can't wait to see it," Jacques said, grinning.

"Elsa! Elsa!"

Anna bounded over, immediately ducking under the umbrella and hugging her sister. The umbrella barely fit two people so Jacques stepped out from underneath it but still balanced it so the sisters would not get wet.

"This is sooooo cool! You have to see it!"

Not even waiting for Elsa to so much as greet her back, Anna began rifling through her things. Grabbing her used smart phone from her bag, Anna started flipping through her saved files until she found what she was looking for.

"We were at practice today, going through the usual scales—you were totally great, Émilie—when Henriette showed me this video that was just uploaded on Youtube!"

"It's so cool, Jacques, you need to see it, too!" Emilie agreed. She also pulled out her iPhone 6 and looked for the video.

Both Elsa and Jacques exchanged a tired, but knowing, smile. Elsa was exhausted and really just wanted to get home, but she could never deny her sister anything that made her this excited. Jacques must have understood since he regarded Émilie with a similar patience.

"Here!"

Both Émilie and Anna played the video, slightly off sync. It showed a blurred image of a girl dressed in yellow and black leotard, bouncing across the screen as a man wearing a Kabuki mask pursued her. The akuma, who had called himself 'Yokai', was soon knocked away by a gray vigilante with silver hair.

Elsa colored as she realized that a civilian must have taken this video not even an hour ago.

"It's Honeybee!" Anna exclaimed. "See? That's her right there! I told you she was real!"

Elsa had hoped to escape media attention. Posing as the Honeybee was already a difficult secret to keep from her family. The last thing she needed was for her face to be all over the internet.

"Seems pretty legit to me," Jacques said quietly, taking the phone from Émilie. There was something strange about his tone that piqued Elsa's interest. He sounded almost…affectionate?

"Anna, what has mom told you about using your phone at school?" Elsa started.

"But this wasn't during class. It was just at practice," Anna complained.

"Anna…"

"I'm sure she meant nothing by it," Jacques said. He winked at Anna. "It's not every day you get to see a cute vigilante in action."

Despite trying to pretend she was annoyed, Elsa's heart skipped a beat. He thought Honeybee was cute?

"Please try to stay more focused next time," Elsa said. But seeing the disheartened look on Anna's face, Elsa squeezed her shoulder gently. "Even superheroes need to stay on task if they want to save the day."

This seemed to satisfy Anna and brought a smile back to her sister's face.

"We should get going, Em," Jacques said. "Dad said he'd try to make it to dinner tonight."

His tone sounded hopeful but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Elsa, who had a close knit family, couldn't imagine what it would be like if either of her parents didn't make an effort to have their typical family meal every night. It was where they exchanged stories about their day: everything from the crazy antics at Anna's rehearsals to the ridiculous customers at the café. It brought a touch of normalcy that Elsa needed to balance the abnormal since discovering her Kwami, Lykke.

Unconsciously, she found her fingers touching the golden, bee-shaped pins that held her braid in place.

"Take this. You need it more than I do."

Jacques' fingers brushed hers as he put the umbrella in her hand.

"I couldn't—" she started to protest.

But his chuckle cut her off. "We see each other 5 days a week. You can always give it back to me later."

Her skin tingled from where it had made contact with his. She wanted to try and give the umbrella back to him once more but the words seemed to stick to her tongue.

"See you at practice, Anna!" Émilie said, waving as she got in the limo.

Their driver was standing with the door open, waiting for Jacques to join his sister.

"I'll see you at school," Jacques said. He hopped into the limo. "Nice meeting you, Anna."

Anna waved goodbye to the Beauchamp siblings while Elsa held the umbrella, only managing a small smile. She was too busy trying to make sense of the feeling that came over her when their fingers had touched.

"That's Jacques Beauchamp from the L'Hiver ads, right?" Anna asked, her voice a little starstruck.

Elsa nodded weakly.

"Wow," Anna said."…your boyfriend is so cool."

Elsa's face reddened. "He's not my boyfriend. He's my classmate."

But the sly look Anna was giving her told her that Anna knew something Elsa didn't.

.

"Earth to Elsa!"

Tip snapped her fingers in front of Elsa's face, causing the blonde to jump.

"Stay focused," Tip said. With a knowing smirk, she tilted her head, her dark curls bouncing. "Lover boy's at your 3'o clock."

Elsa's eyes widened. Sure enough, there was Jacques. And he was coming this way.

She tried to appear nonchalant as she reorganized the books in her locker.

"Hey, Elsa."

With a squeak, Elsa dropped all her books, along with her notebook. Much to her embarrassment, the notebook flipped open to a page where she had sketched Jacques napping in class. From the corner of her eye, she could see Tip face palm.

"I'll help you with that."

"There's no need to…" Elsa started.

However, Jacques was already on his knees, gathering her books. When he reached for the notebook with the sketch of him, he grinned. "Hey, this is pretty good. I didn't know you could draw."

Standing up, he handed the stack to Elsa. "Mademoiselle."

That tone. Similar to the month before, there was something about the way he said it that triggered a sense of déjà vu, even though he had never called Elsa that before. Elsa's mind tried to connect the pieces but all she was drawing was a giant blank.

Get a hold of yourself, she mentally scolded.

Then, seeing that drawing of him on top of the stack, she hastily shoved the books into her locker and slammed the door a bit too loudly. A few students glanced curiously in her direction while she tried to control the wild blush heating her face.

"I didn't mean to—that is, sometimes I—you know, History class can get a little dull…" she babbled.

"What my friend is trying to say," Tip cut in, "is she likes drawing random things in her notebook. She's crazy good at it. You should see the one she drew of Aster."

Elsa nearly breathed a relieved sigh. She could always count on Tip to have her back. And, apparently, to speak sense when all Elsa could do was stumble through a sentence.

"I'd like to check it out sometime. But don't tell him if you did his ugly mug any justice. Otherwise, I'd never hear the end of it," Jacques said, jokingly.

Jacques and Aster seemed the most unlikely of friends: one was a pretty boy model, the other a football obsessed striker for the school's team. Most of their interactions were spent exchanging banter but Jacques would always be front and center at Aster's games while Aster tagged along for any photo shoots nearby.

"Free food," the tall, Aussie exchange student always claimed.

Elsa was almost surprised to see Jacques without his usual hulking friend at his side.

"Where is Aster, anyway?" Tip asked.

Jacques shrugged. "Football practice, I bet."

"In December?"

"It's 16 degrees out. The way this month is going, we should rename it Septembre partie Deux (12)," Jacques answered. "What's with this strange weather anyway?"

"Global warming, evil corporations, methane-gas releasing cows from overproduction of beef," Tip said, listing them off on her fingers. "Pick your poison."

"I get enough poison from Mme. Lévêque," Jacques said, with a small groan. "By the way, thanks for sticking it to Westergaard, Elsa. It means a lot to me."

Elsa laughed nervously, toying with the end of her braid. "He was being impertinent. I—I don't like it when he talks down to you like that."

The grateful smile Jacques gave her made her melt a little on the inside.

"I was talking with Mme. Lévêque after class and—I hope you don't mind me asking this. But she was saying I should try studying with you a bit. You know, if it doesn't bother you."

Elsa's eyes widened in surprise. "M—me? You want to study with me?"

She could see the victorious grin Tip was flashing at her, which only made Elsa feel more shy.

"Sure! I mean, I'm not the best student," Jacques said, scratching the back of his hair with a chuckle, "but I promise I won't sleep on you. We might even get through more of the lesson if we work together. So how about we get together later this afternoon and review our notes?"

Elsa's heart was racing. Spending all afternoon with the guy she was secretly crushing on? Were she less composed, she would have pumped her fist in joy. Or maybe sing scales at the top of her lungs, like Anna was prone to do these days whenever in a good mood. But then she felt her hopes for a study session dashed as she remembered the promise she had made to her father that morning.

"I would like to," she admitted. She was unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice, "but I told my father I'd help out at the café this afternoon."

"Oh," Jacques said, looking a little crestfallen. "It's no big deal. Some other time, then?"

"I couldn't help but overhear your predicament," a saccharine voice said. Vidia Vanier, another one of their classmates, sidled up to Jacques and looped her arm through his. She looked coyly at Jacques with her large, dark eyes. "I am free this afternoon, if you're looking for a study buddy."

"Mme. Lévêque told him to ask Elsa," Tip said. She may have said it politely enough but her annoyed expression said she was anything but impressed with the intrusion.

"I'm doing well enough in the class. I'm sure I can give Jacques all the help he needs," Vidia practically purred.

"She spends most of that class checking her appearance in her compact," Tip mumbled quietly to Elsa.

A fact that often put Vidia on Mme. Lévêque's bad side. Then again, very few in the class ever seemed to pay attention. "Well enough" could really apply to anyone who managed to stay awake for most of the period.

Elsa was hoping Jacques would politely decline. But her heart sank as color splashed over Jacques cheeks. It shouldn't have surprised her: Vidia had an outgoing personality and she was a cheerleader. Her popularity kept her at the top of the school's social pyramid and if Jacques was the campus King, she was easily the school's Queen Bee. It also didn't hurt that she was incredibly beautiful, with her dark features and long, skinny legs.

"You should study with Vidia," Elsa heard herself saying. Tip looked at her as if she had lost her mind. But Elsa wasn't going to protest out of some unjustified jealous fit: Jacques needed help and she just didn't have the time.

"If you're okay with that…" Jacques started. But he seemed very hesitant.

"Come, Jacques. It will be fun! We can go to my house and study in front of the fire place," Vidia suggested.

"…I think we'd get more done in the library," he tried to say.

But his suggestion fell on deaf ears as Vidia began listing all of the things they could do at her house.

Before Jacques could protest, she was dragging him down the hallway.

"…can you believe that girl?" Tip said, shaking her head. "She practically put her claws in the poor boy."

Elsa knew Tip was trying to make her feel better but the truth was, she had nothing against Vidia. Sure, Vidia was a bit of a flirt, but she got by in her classes and was by no means undeserving of her popularity. She was everything Elsa was not: a social butterfly with a beautiful face.

"Mistletoe!" someone shouted.

To her horror, Elsa watched as some students pointed to the green plant, wrapped in a red ribbon, hanging above Jacques' and Vidia's heads. Jacques was blushing furiously while Vidia was hiding a giggle behind her hand.

"I need to go to work," Elsa said.

"Elsa…" Tip started to say, looking worriedly at her best friend.

She mumbled an 'Au revoir' (13) to Tip, quietly picking up her bag and walking down the hallway in the opposite direction. She did not want to see Jacques kiss Vidia, nor did she want to admit that she wished she could have that effect on him. She was above something as petty as a school girl crush.

…then why did it hurt so much?

.

His last victims were weak. That was the problem: the akuma had latched onto people who had their own demons but strong hearts. Callaghan had seemed perfect: a father angry over the death of his daughter when her employer violated the safety regulation of the laboratory she worked at. Yokai should have killed Honeybee and stolen her marvelous but deep down, the man was only grieving and hadn't wanted to harm anyone.

Then there had been Angelique Boudreaux. The middle-aged news anchor was released from her position for someone younger, more attractive. Pitch had hoped her desire for vengeance would have made Madame Gothel a force to be reckoned with. But her anger, prompted by hurt pride and vanity, made her cower beneath his expectations for her. Sending her against Loup Gris had been like watching a kitten hiss at a large dog.

Don't even get him started on Fredzilla: that had been an act of desperation and poorly thought out since the teen had hardly a vicious bone in his body.

No, Pitch would have to choose carefully this time. He needed someone who was afraid. That's how it always started: the fear. It was fear that bred anger, anger that led to the dark energy he could twist and transform until it became the destructive akuma who terrorized Paris.

There were many potential targets: the blonde girl with jealousy in her heart. But, no, she was too sad. Her akuma would hardly do the trick.

The boy afraid of falling behind in school. But there was now hope in him as he pursued a solution to his problem. He would be of no use to Pitch Black.

Pitch needed someone more afraid, someone angrier. Someone who already had the desire to cause pain and would be willing to get their hands dirty.

The redhead.

Yes, he thought. You will do nicely.

.

Hans stormed into his room, slamming the door behind him. He was still shaking in anger after his conversation with Mme. Lévêque. How dare she speak down to him like that? Did she not know who he was?

He had a brother who worked on the local board of education. With a few false rumors, he was sure he could get Lars to fire her. Create enough of a scandal and she would never be hired again in France. Then he would show her the price of messing with a Westergaard.

But no. He wanted to do something more devious. He wanted to make her pay.

Staring at his reflection in the vanity, his green eyes flashed. His vengeance needed to be swift and sweet. By now, she had no doubt informed his father of his behavior and if there was one thing Hans dreaded, it was another scolding about how he was the biggest disappointment in the family.

"Not even a real man," his father had all but spat in his face when they last spoke. "This…infatuation of yours. It needs to stop."

He would show all of them for how they treated him.

"That's right. You will show them," a voice whispered.

His green eyes flickered to a shade of icy blue. Hans blinked at his reflection in surprise. For a moment, he swore his reflection had been smirking at him.

What is going on with me? He wondered.

Suddenly, one of the windows flew open, a cool gust of air pushing aside the curtains. A small, black butterfly flew into the room, fluttering next to Hans' face. Hans glowered at the insect and attempted to swat it away.

"Awaken, Jötunn!"

It was that voice again.

Hans glanced over his shoulder. He couldn't tell where the voice was coming from.

When he looked back at the mirror, he gasped in shock. The reflection staring back at him was one he didn't recognize. His skin was deathly white, littered with cracks like breaking ice. His pupils were gone completely, his eyes glowing icy blue. Most terrifying of all, his reflection no longer mirrored his own movements: the reflection had a cruel smile on its face, its mouth open in what seemed to be a vicious cackle.

Hans tried reaching towards the mirror in disbelief but as he did so, the black butterfly landed on his hand, touching the family signet ring he wore. As it came into contact with the family heirloom, an icy cold blast enveloped Hans, making his blood to run ice cold. He buckled over with a silent scream, feeling as if his entire body was being ripped apart and hastily sewn back together. Everything blurred until it eventually faded to black.

.

La Petite Fleur was a small café located in the Montmartre district in Paris. The quaint pastel blue and cream colored building housed a café on the first floor, famous on the street for its lattes and croissants, while the upper floors were occupied by the Dubois-Lindahls. Antoine Dubois was a Parisian native, born and bred in Montmartre, while his wife, Iduna Lindahl, had moved from Norway 20 years earlier to pursue a business degree at L'Université de Paris. Shortly after their marriage, the couple purchased their home in Montmartre and converted the lower level to a café, where Antoine could pursue his dream of serving baked goods while Iduna got to be the proud owner of a business.

Like most weekday afternoons, a few regulars were already seated inside enjoying a warm drink while others came and went to pick up freshly baked goods after a long day at work. Elsa remained active at the register, taking orders and preparing drinks while her father continued baking in the back. She kept a pleasant smile on her face, always welcoming customers with a cheery 'Bonjour' and asking the familiar faces how their day has been. But the smile never quite reached her eyes.

All she could picture was Jacques and Vidia, standing beneath the mistletoe. Jacques would still have those flushed cheeks, his blue eyes shyly closing as he tilted down to kiss Vidia softly…

Stop torturing yourself, she mentally scolded. You didn't even see them kiss. You don't know that's how it went.

But she had serious doubts that Jacques would be running in the opposite direction from any affection he received from Vidia.

"How are we doing with the banana chocolate chip muffins?" her father called.

Elsa nearly jumped in surprise, her train of thought broken. Her father was still in the kitchen, baking away to restock inventory.

Pushing away all thoughts of what had happened after school, Elsa checked the display. "There's only 2 left, Papa."

"I'll bring out the new batch once they finish baking."

Already, she could smell the banana muffins. The rich, mouth-watering muffin was usually one of their best sellers but recently, the red velvet craze had most customers buying those cupcakes by the dozens, especially with upcoming Christmas parties. In fact, Iduna was currently in the office taking orders for the coming weekend.

"I think it's died down a bit," Antoine said, poking his head out from the kitchen. "Could you make a list of what we have left in stock?"

Elsa nodded, pulling out her notepad and pen. She started with the display, jotting down what remained after a busy afternoon. She also checked the premade wraps they kept in the fridge and what was left of the daily soup. So far, she welcomed the distraction of work since it kept her from thinking about Jacques.

"Are you okay down there, Lykke?" Elsa whispered.

She kept her book bag in a cubby beneath the counter. As she looked inside, she could see the yellow kwami playing a game on Elsa's smart phone. With a small smile, Elsa handed the kwami a freshly baked oatmeal cookie.

"I don't know how you humans play this," the kwami said.

From the low score, Elsa could tell that the kwami was struggling with Candy Crush. Lykke took the proffered cookie and began munching happily on it.

"You'll get the hang of it. I have only another hour or so. Then I'll take you upstairs and we can play Sims on my laptop," Elsa promised.

The kwami was surprisingly fond of that game, especially since Elsa showed her how to make a yellow Sim. On the nights when Elsa was studying and there were no akuma causing havoc, Lykke would often be found making sim versions of herself and trying to get Sim Lykke to the highest tier of her career. It amused Elsa that Lykke got so much enjoyment out of making her Sim do mundane things.

The bell jingled.

"A customer," Elsa whispered.

She carefully closed her book bag and stood back up. She nearly did a double-take when she saw who was standing there.

"Bonjour, Elsa," Jacques said, with a grin.

"J-Jacques," Elsa said, flushing.

The navy coat he wore really brought out his eyes. It made it hard for her to think when he was standing there, looking both sheepish but so devilishly handsome.

After a few moments, she remembered that she was a barista and he was a customer. "Oh, uh…what would you like?"

"Hmm." Jacques squinted and glanced over the menu. "What would you recommend?"

"The café crème de Colombie, for your caffeine fix. Or, if you're not a coffee drinker, I'm partial to the Chocolat Chaud à la menthe," Elsa replied. "We also have the peppermint hot chocolate, part of our seasonal menu."

"Mint Hot Chocolate or Peppermint Hot Chocolate," Jacques said. He paused for a moment, as if very carefully weighing his options. "I like a good hot chocolate. What's the difference?"

"Honestly?" Elsa leaned forward, as if letting Jacques in on a little secret. "Not much. Except the peppermint is served with a candy cane."

"For an extra Euro, I get a candy cane in my drink?" Jacques asked, his tone teasing. "Festive. I think I'll go with that."

After paying for his drink, Jacques took a seat at a small table in the corner of the café. Although Elsa had been upset earlier, just seeing him again brought that familiar flutter back. What was he doing here? Why wasn't he with Vidia? School had ended only an hour ago.

"Here," Antoine said, adding a plate with some freshly baked cookies to the tray with Jacques' hot chocolate.

"Papa?"

Elsa gave her father a questioning look.

"The café is not that busy. Why don't you take a short break?"

He squeezed her shoulder affectionately, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

She was about to protest but the light, playful push her father gave her told her that he wasn't taking No for an answer. With a nervous smile, she walked over to Jacques' table and set down the tray.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked, shyly.

Jacques immediately got to his feet, pulling out the extra chair for Elsa. Her cheeks were hot as she sat down. She tried to look up at him but found that her eyes kept darting back down to her hands folded in her lap.

"My father said I could take a break," she explained, quietly. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"Not at all," Jacques said. "I, uh…I was actually hoping to talk to you. When you were done, of course. I just thought maybe I could get some studying done until then. Lucky for me, there's not many Dubois-Lindahl's in Paris so this place wasn't hard to find."

He pulled out the candy cane from his drink, nipping off a small piece of it. Chewing on the candy, he then swallowed it and smiled at Elsa. "Definitely worth the extra Euro."

"You haven't even tried the drink yet," Elsa pointed out.

He took a sip of the peppermint hot chocolate, swallowing it carefully. Elsa was a bit surprised that she was holding her own breath as she waited for his verdict.

"This," he said, pausing for effect, "has got to be the best hot chocolate I've ever tasted."

Elsa hid her smile behind her hand, ducking her head. "You're just saying that because my family owns this café."

"No, I really mean it," Jacques insisted. "My father has our Italian chef prepare our morning coffees. Emilio makes a mean cappuccino but I always find his hot chocolate a bit lacking."

Picking up one of the peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, Jacques took a generous bite out of it. The sound he made as he swallowed it made something hot curl inside of Elsa.

"Did your father make these?" Jacques asked, after swallowing.

"…I made the batter for those this morning," Elsa admitted, shyly. "But, yes, he just baked them."

"An artist and a baker," Jacques said, winking. "Any other secrets you're keeping from me?"

Elsa could think of her secret life as a fan-wielding, yellow-masked heroine but there were some things about herself she wasn't ready to share with the world.

As Jacques munched away happily on the cookies, Elsa recalled his reason for coming to the café.

"You said you wanted to speak with me?"

Finishing off his cookie with a sip of hot chocolate, Jacques set his drink back on the table. "Yes. I wanted to apologize for Vidia. I shouldn't have left with her like that, not when you and I were in the middle of a conversation."

He looked genuinely concerned that he had been impolite, which only made Elsa fall a little harder for him. Many of his admirers only saw him as a local celebrity but Elsa knew him as the kind-hearted classmate who loved his kid sister. That he would be concerned for her, someone he still didn't know all that well, made her pulse race a little faster.

"I wasn't offended by it," Elsa reassured him. "I had to come here and Vidia offered to help you. I didn't want you to take time away from your studies and wait until I was finished work."

"Yes but…between you and me, I don't think she was all that interested in studying," Jacques said. He looked away with a small blush, shaking his head as if he couldn't quite believe what had happened.

Elsa was curious. But she also didn't want to pry into something that wasn't her concern. Instead, she sat quietly and waited for Jacques to continue.

"You know, some of the girls at school get a little weird about me," Jacques started. He took another sip of hot chocolate. "Because of the modeling. I mean, I'm not complaining: my face is out there and I'm grateful for the attention. But sometimes…I just want to be taken seriously. I said I wanted to improve my history grade, so I can keep doing my job, but Vidia…"

Jacques sighed. "Sorry, I must be rambling again. I'm always unloading my problems on you."

"It's okay, Jacques. I don't mind."

But in her head, what she really wanted to know was what happened between them.

"You sure? I didn't think you'd want to spend break hearing me complain about my life," Jacques said.

Elsa shrugged but smiled in encouragement, waiting for him to go on.

"She got mad at me for not kissing her," Jacques said. He scoffed under his breath, not quite believing what had transpired. "Someone must have put mistletoe up and I somehow got dragged under there. And when I didn't kiss her, she got all offended and wished me 'good luck' studying alone. Can you believe that?"

Elsa was surprised: the most popular girl in school had thrown herself at Jacques and he turned her down? Vidia was not used to being told 'No' so Elsa could see how the brunette would have reacted as she did to the rejection.

"Anyway, so I came here, hoping that if you weren't offended by how I acted, you might study with me later?" Then, he quickly added, "Or tomorrow. Or this weekend. It doesn't really matter. I just need to get through this class."

Elsa was flattered that he wanted to study together. And she was ready to set up a time and place. But there was something about all of this that wasn't adding up.

"Why didn't you kiss her?" she blurted out. Seeing the surprise on his face, she quickly apologized. "I am really sorry. I know it's not my business. I shouldn't have asked."

I shouldn't have said anything. Now he's going to think I'm nosy!

Elsa wished there was some hole she could crawl into and bury herself. After all the effort he put into being polite around her, one slip of the tongue had her not showing him the same respect.

But, to her shock, Jacques simply chuckled. "Nah, it's fine. I guess it seems a bit strange—I just shot down the most popular girl in school. In front of an audience."

Realizing what he just said, he groaned. "And I'm sure I'm gonna hear all about it at school tomorrow. I think I may have committed social suicide."

Whether or not Jacques liked it, he was a hot topic among the gossip at school. Mostly because everyone thought it strange that he never seemed interested in the girls. It even started a rumor about him and Aster, to which Aster had scoffed, "Trust me, mates. If I was shagging that, I would be the one spreading that rumor."

"But it just didn't feel right," Jacques added. "I couldn't kiss her because…well, I'm not into her."

Elsa was a little surprised. Jacques had seemed friendly enough with Vidia when she saw them together earlier.

"Oh."

"There's someone else I like and…" Jacques looked down at his drink, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. "I was kind of hoping my next kiss could be with her."

He likes someone? Elsa thought. She tried to think if there was anyone at school she ever saw Jacques with. But besides Aster, and the occasional flock of fangirls who mooned over him, Jacques mostly kept to himself. He was as much a mystery to her as everyone else.

It made her hopeful. Maybe Jacques kept his interest that bottled up. Maybe he liked someone in their class. Maybe she's sitting right across from him.

"—no matter how hard I try, she always seems so…annoyed by me," Jacques sighed.

Elsa blinked. Again, she found herself lost in thought and hadn't realized he was still talking.

He ran a hand through his hair. "I compliment her, she spurns me. I try to tell her bad jokes, she glares at me. Hell, I even saved her from falling off a—um, uh—down. Saved her from tripping. She pushes me!"

And just like that, her hopes were dashed. She had certainly never shown irritation the few times Jacques complimented her, nor has she ever heard his jokes.

"I don't know what to do," he groaned, dropping his head on the table.

Elsa couldn't believe what she was about to say. But she hated seeing him like this.

Time to be a good girl instead of a jealous one, she told herself.

"It might be that you are coming on too strong," she said, gently. She thought of Loup Gris and his bad puns and sugary pet names. Her partner against evil would annoy her a lot less if he laid it on less thick. She doubted anything Jacques said was as obnoxious as Loup Gris' attempts at flirtation but she could understand if Jacques' love interest felt intimidated. "Maybe she's shy and feels uncomfortable when you're being too forward with her?"

He lifted his head, staring thoughtfully at his half-finished drink. After a moment, his lips curled into a small smile. "You know, maybe you're right. I never thought of it that way."

Although she smiled back, she felt a hollow pang in her chest.

"You know, you're really good at this, Elsa," Jacques said. He sat up straighter, taking his cooled hot chocolate in his hands. "You're good at listening to people. Keep it up and eventually you'll know all my secrets."

As he shifted in his seat, Elsa's eyes caught the silver chain hidden beneath his shirt. She wasn't sure why such a minute detail interested her.

"I doubt that," she said quietly, mostly to herself.

"Elsa."

Antoine came over to their table, throwing his coat over his apron. Aware that he was intruding, he quickly added, "I'm sorry to cut this short. But your mother has left to speak with a possible client and I need to pick up Anna from rehearsal. I'm Antoine Dubois, by the way."

Jacques stood up, accepting Antoine's hand with a firm shake. "Jacques Faust-Beauchamp. A pleasure to meet you, sir. Thank you for the cookies."

As Elsa stood up, Antoine wrapped an arm around her, squeezing her to his side. "You should be thanking Elsa. A fine baker she'll make, if she takes up her papa's trade."

He kissed her temple, earning him an embarrassed laugh from his daughter. "Papa! You said you were going to get Anna."

"Right. Mind the shop, Elsa. It was nice meeting you, Jacques."

As her father opened the door to the café, a cold gust of air blew it open, sending in flakes of snow. Antoine waved goodbye and shut the door behind him.

"Huh…" Elsa said. A warning bell was going off in the back of her head.

She stepped closer to the window, taking a peek outside. Sure enough, after a month of strange weather, it was finally snowing outside. And coming down hard. From what she remembered from the weather forecast, there had been no mention of snow, let alone temperatures that would even lead to cold weather.

"When did this start?" she asked aloud.

It was almost as deserted outside as it was in the café. Only a handful of people could be seen out on the Rue des Martyrs and the street was completely covered in freshly fallen snow. But the strange thing was that if Elsa squinted and looked beyond their street, rooftops a few blocks over had no sign of snow.

Jacques stood beside her, frowning. "I don't like the look of this…"

A bone-chilling roar shook everything on the street. Like a mini earthquake, Elsa stumbled into Jacques, who gripped her tightly to keep both of them from toppling over. She held onto him until the shaking subsided, her hands grasping his coat.

She could smell the faint trace of his cologne, something earthy with the hint of pine. The way his hands clutched her petite shoulders made something warm bubble in the pit of her stomach. Deliriously, she wondered how she had been so lucky to end up here, especially after—

Another roar broke her train of thought, reminding her of the impending danger.

Papa's out there! She thought, her eyes widening.

"W-what was that?" she asked, shakily.

She reluctantly pulled away from Jacques and glanced back out the window.

"There!"

She looked to where Jacques was pointing. A large, snow creature with giant icy spikes coming out of its back, was storming down the street towards the café. Its hollow, black eyes lit up to a pale shade of blue as its mouth opened and a gust of icy wind shot forth, freezing a nearby vehicle into a solid block of ice. It seemed that as this abominable snow creature moved, the snow storm that was assaulting this street also followed it. There was no doubt in Elsa's mind: Pitch had unleashed another akuma on Paris.

"I need to go," Jacques suddenly declared.

He rushed over to the table to retrieve his bag.

Elsa also needed to get away. She had to get Lykke and transform before this thing did any more damage. But she wasn't about to let her classmate run headfirst into danger.

"Jacques, it's not safe out there," she protested. She stood between him and the door as he made to leave. "Stay here. We can hide until this thing is gone!"

"The school's down the street," Jacques said. "I need to make sure my sister's okay."

His concern was written all over his face. Elsa would hate it if any one tried to come between her protecting Anna.

The sooner you let him leave, the sooner you can transform, she reasoned.

It was only the two of them left in the café and Lykke was just underneath the counter.

"This way," Elsa said.

She slipped her hand in his, trying to ignore the way her skin tingled on contact. She led him through the kitchen to the back entrance, which exited out onto one of the small alleyways tucked away off Rue des Martyrs.

As Elsa went to open the door, it flew open from the powerful wind that was brewing in the mini storm. She didn't like letting him leave and had to remind herself once again why she was doing this.

"Promise me you'll hide!" Jacques shouted above the wind. His hand was still in hers, even as he stood in the doorway.

"Promise me you'll be safe!" Elsa shot back.

Jacques squeezed her hand.

As he stepped out into the storm, Elsa struggled to shut the door behind him. It took all of her strength to get it to close. Once it was shut, she leaned against it with a small sigh. If she closed her eyes, she could still picture Jacques smile, the weight of his hand in hers…

"Elsa!"

Everything in the café was shaking harder than before. The akuma must be closer!

Elsa blinked open her eyes, coming face-to-face with Lykke. The yellow and black kwami was floating worriedly in front of her face.

"Right!" Elsa said.

She could already feel the warm glow of the golden bee pins she wore in her hair.

"Time to transform! Lykke, stripes on!"

A warm, yellow glow emanated along her skin as Lykke merged with the golden pins. It no longer felt as strange as her first transformation, the yellow light becoming like a second skin in a burst of sparkles. Her civilian clothes faded away, replaced by yellow and black spandex. Yellow spandex covered her chest and shoulders completely, the material darkening down her arms to the black gloves she wore on her hands. Over her hips, the spandex formed a tiny mini skirt, with three black stripes circling her waist and thighs. Similar to her arms, her yellow leggings also followed a gradient pattern until they became the black flats she wore over her feet. Her weapon, the fan folded into a stinger, appeared behind her on the belt she wore.

Adding the final touch to her costume, her hand swiped in front of her face. A yellow mask with horizontal black stripes formed around her eyes. Her transformation complete, Elsa tightened her hand into a fist, a determined look in her eyes.

"Let's show Pitch he picked the wrong day to build a snowman!"

From inside her head, she could hear Lykke giggle.

.

It was freezing outside. His navy, fall coat did little to protect against the storm that seemed to escalate the closer Jacques trudged towards the main street. He was already wading in nearly 20 cm of snow and it was building up by the minute.

"I hope you're ready, Fang!" he shouted.

A gray head poked out of his book bag, chomping happily on a piece of jerky. The gray, dog-eared kwami seemed to be two thirds head, his small body fitting easily into Jacques hand. Jacques blinked his eyes closed as his face was pelted with snowflakes when he tried peeking out of the alley and onto Rue des Martyrs.

"Let me finish this last piece," the kwami whined.

A loud roar caused everything to shake violently. Jacques tripped into the snow, dropping Fang with a surprised yelp.

"That's enough!"

Jacques lifted his head, brushing the snow off his face. It stung fiercely at his exposed skin, sending an almost violent shiver down his spine. He was normally not that bothered by the cold, spending many vacations skiing up in the Alps. There was definitely something supernatural about even the snowstorm the akuma had made.

The snow storm stopped. In the street in front of him, Jacques could see a yellow and black figure pointing up at the surprised, 5 m tall snow giant.

"This ends now!" the girl said.

Honeybee!

When had she arrived?

Already, Jacques could feel his heart begin to race.

"You cannot stop Jötunn!" the creature bellowed.

It swiped angrily at the heroine, who easily dodged out of the way. But as she landed on her feet, the creature's eyes glowed blue. Its icy breath froze the main road on Rue des Martyrs, causing Honeybee to lose her footing.

Jacques scrambled to his feet in panic.

"Fang! Where are you? She needs our help!"

A tiny, gray head poked out of the snow near Jacques' feet.

"My jerky…" the kwami said, floating up in a shower of light powder. His big, yellow eyes looked around forlornly for his lost snack.

"Fang!"

The kwami pouted, his ears and tiny tail drooping.

Pulling out the silver chain from beneath his shirt, Jacques shared a look with Fang.

"I'll get you more jerky later."

The canine tooth hanging from the chain began to glow.

Fang's ears perked up. "Venison?"

"Sure." Jacques wasn't fond of the smell of jerky but whatever kept his kwami happy and battle ready was good enough for him. Smirking, he said, "Fang! Paws up!"

In a flash of blue-gray light, the kwami merged with the glowing tooth. The blue-gray light spread to Jacques hands, his clothing transforming into his dark gray uniform. As he passed his gloved hand over his face, the energy materialized into a gray mask. He could feel his large, pointed ears burst through his brown hair, the roots all along his head tingling until his hair color faded to a frosty silver. The necklace he wore on his neck grew longer and slipped down over his hips, becoming a black whip. The fang, his Marvelous, transformed into a spiked dog collar, tightening around his neck.

With a playful howl, Jacques bounded on all fours, crawling up onto a nearby car. Grinning wolfishly from ear-to-ear, his head moved from side-to-side, following Honeybee and the giant snow creature as they slid across the makeshift 'rink'.

"Time to show this Jötunn how to 'paw-ty'," Jacques said.

Bouncing off the car, Jacques slid across the ice towards Honeybee. She was struggling more than he was to keep her balance so Jacques doubted she was much of a skater. The giant snow creature was trying once more to grab her so Jacques unfurled the whip around his waist and aimed for the Jötunn's right claw.

"Hey, Jötunn—it is Jötunn, right?—snow doubt about it, that's a pup-posterous name," Jacques declared. He didn't so much as see but sensed the pained look on Honeybee's face at being subjected to yet another of his infamous bad puns.

The whip wrapped tightly around the Jötunn's claw. But as Jacques yanked on it, the force causing him to slide a few paces back, the claw broke and crumbled into powdery snow.

"I'm gonna call you 'Marshmallow'," Jacques said, snickering.

The Jötunn roared angrily.

"Is this really the right time to be antagonizing him?" Honeybee asked. She flailed her arms to try to keep her balance but Jacques pulled her towards him, letting her crash against his chest. She looked up at him in surprise, her wide, blue eyes like pools of liquid cerulean. Her hands were pressed against his chest and he could feel his heart pounding wildly.

"Ma Cherie, we really need to stop meeting like this," Jacques said, grinning cheekily.

To his dismay, he received the usual sound of displeasure from his flirtatious advances.

"Didn't your classmate tell you to tone it down?" Fang sang in his head.

You weren't supposed to be listening to that!

"Loup Gris. Now's not the time," Honeybee sighed. She indicated to the one-armed Jötunn.

"Pfft. It's a snowman having a bad 'snow' day. We can just knock it off its legs and—"

With a loud CRACK, snow tumbled off the Jötunn's shoulder, forming around the stump. The snow hardened and extended outwards, forming a new claw complete with icicles spiking from its 'fingers'.

"…I had no idea it could do that…"

It propelled its body into the air, attempting to pounce on the two heroes. Honeybee pushed hard on Jacques' chest, forcing him to slide backwards a few meters while pushing her in the opposite direction. The Jötunn landed where they had just been standing, slamming its fist down towards Jacques. He rolled his body out of the way, wincing when he heard those giant fists crack the ice on the road.

"Paw-thetic," Jacques taunted, sprawled out on the ice. He ungracefully got back to his feet. "You can do better than that, Snowflake!"

The Jötunn pulled one of the icy spikes out of its back and flung it at Jacques. Using his whip, Jacques cracked it against a nearby streetlamp and pulled away just as the spike imbedded itself behind him. It cut through the spandex on the back of his leg, leaving a small trail of blood from the wound. Jacques flinched but it was more from the cold than the cut.

"I thought we agreed on Marshmallow," Honeybee teased, sliding up beside Loup Gris.

"Oh, now you decide to have a sense of humor. Whatever happened to 'don't antagonize him, Loup Gris, you handsome devil!'"

Honeybee glared when Jacques' attempted to mimic her voice. "That's not what I said!"

It may be going against the advice Elsa had given but he had to admit: Honeybee was adorable when she was angry.

But she wasn't the only one who was angry. As they bantered, the wind around them picked up, whipping up Honeybee's braid and tousling Jacques' silver hair. The icy wind stung at their faces, the snowflakes biting at their skin like mini daggers. It made the wound on his leg sting fiercely but Jacques didn't let his discomfort show. Their visibility had just dropped significantly, making it hard to find the Jötunn in the sea of white.

"We need a plan!" Honeybee shouted above the wind.

She placed her hand on his shoulder. Jacques felt a blush splash across his cheeks. He wasn't sure if she was just trying to steady her poor balance on the ice or avoid losing him in the snowy haze but he would take what he could get.

"We'll need to draw him out!" Jacques said. His eyes dropped to the whip he held in his hands. Then he exchanged a look with Honeybee. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Honeybee gripped one end of the whip. "You did say all we need is to 'knock it off its legs'."

With a worried glance, she looked down at the blood staining the ice. "Are you sure you can do this? That cut doesn't look good."

Jacques eyes widened in shock. "Aww, you're asking if I'm okay? You do care about me, Honeybee. Maybe after we take Marshmallow out, I'll let you kiss it better."

The salacious look he gave her had Honeybee shaking her head. But his teasing was enough to convince her that he was better than he actually felt. He didn't want her to worry about him when they needed to focus on taking down this akuma.

"I'll take its left; you go on the right. Say whatever you can to draw it out!"

"Why am I drawing it out?" Jacques demanded.

"Because you're the annoying one!" Honeybee said, smiling sweetly.

Before Jacques could protest further, she was already sliding away.

"Touché."

Fang!

Holding his end of the whip, Jacques slid towards where the storm seemed thickest. Due to the magical properties of his weapon, it could extend a few meters by will and had saved him from falling to his death on more than one occasion. Even if this plan didn't work, it was a small comfort to feel Honeybee tugging on the other end.

"Hey, Marshmallow!" Jacques shouted. "Yeah, that's right—2 to 1. It's Marshmallow now! You can fang-k me later for it!"

The ground around Jacques began to shake violently. His large ears perked up, trying to pinpoint where the shaking was coming from.

….there!

"What did you call yourself again?" Jacques continued, slipping forward as the ice around his feet broke apart. "Jötunn? More like 'Jötun-not ready for this jelly! 'Cause my body's too—"

The Jötunn loomed over Jacques like a mountain, a dark shadow falling over the surprised hero. It was as if the snow creature emerged from the ice itself, completely blindsiding Loup Gris. He could see its huge, sharp icicle fangs, its mouth opening wide as it roared in Jacques' face. Its breath was as cold as ice, frosting the tips of Jacques hair.

"…bootylicious?" Jacques finished, his voice squeaking.

The Jötunn's eyes glowed bright blue. Evidently, it was not a fan of 2000s American top 20 hits.

I should have gone with Gangnam Style.

Jacques yelped as it blasted its freezing breath. He took off to circle the creature counter-clockwise, wrapping his end of the whip around one of its legs. He narrowly missed tripping over a spike jutting out of the ice.

"Now, Honeybee!"

It was hard to make her out at first but a yellow blur was soon sliding towards him, the other end of the whip enclosing around the Jötunn's free leg. Jacques pushed off the ice, hopping over her end of the whip. The Jötunn was now bound and swiped frantically at the two vigilantes.

"Ready?" Jacques shouted. He winced painfully, feeling like a thousand needles were stabbing into his leg each moment the wind whipped against his body.

"Ready!"

He ducked his head to avoid one of the Jötunn's claws. "Pull!"

Bending his legs, Jacques threw his entire weight into tugging on the whip. The creature howled in frustration and attempted to move its feet but all it did was make the whip cut into its snowy limbs quicker. As the whip sliced into its legs, the force threw Jacques off his feet and his body crashed onto the icy road. The Jötunn tried to grasp at something as it fell backwards, cut off from its legs. It flung its claws out and hit Honeybee, throwing her into the spike Jacques had almost smashed into earlier. The ground shook hard when the Jötunn's body hit the road, powder flying up and eliminating what little visibility they had. But Jacques hardly cared about the danger still present as he scrambled to his feet, his heart in his throat: he had to find her.

"Honeybee!" he shouted.

His body was sore, pain shooting up his leg. He stumbled and fell but quickly picked himself back up. He made for where he had last seen her, his hands helplessly swiping at the falling snow.

He would take back all the taunting. He would stop calling her those pet names she seemed to hate. He would never speak another word to her again, if that was what she wanted. He would do anything to know she was still alive.

The wind died down once more. He could still hear the Jötunn rumbling off to the side but it must be losing power, since it no longer summoned its storm. As the snow stopped, Jacques squinted. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of a small, yellow body curled up on the ice.

"H-Honeybee!" he shouted once more, his voice catching.

He wanted—no, he needed to take her in his arms, feel her breath against his face, her pulse thrumming beneath his fingertips…he needed to know that she still lived, needed to hear her frustrated sigh whenever he got out of line. He needed her to be okay, he needed…

He just needed her.

"L-Loup Gris," she groaned.

Her arms shook as she tried to pick her body up off the ice. But after a feeble attempt, she crashed back down. Jacques could see the bit of crimson that stained the roots of her platinum hair.

She's hurt!

He rushed towards her. She was just a few meters away.

But so was the Jötunn.

It growled angrily, its mouth stretching as wide as it would go. Its eyes once again glowed as it slowly crawled towards her. It was preparing its freezing breath and Honeybee was right in its path.

Her eyes widened in fear as she realized what was happening.

No…

"No!" Jacques shouted.

A thick wave of freezing breath left the Jötunn's fanged mouth. Jacques flung himself in front of Honeybee, his body shielding her from the creature's vicious wrath. Her hand stretched up towards him, her watery gaze drowning Jacques once more in the warm depths of her beautiful, ocean-blue eyes. Her mouth was open and she was shouting something but if this was the last thing he was to see, Jacques wanted to see those eyes that haunted many of his sleepless nights.

His entire body went rigid as the blast hit him. Everything was cold and dark.

But at least the last thing he got to see was her eyes.

.

"Loup Gris!" Elsa shouted.

She reached up but it was too late: the vigilante was frozen solid. Her fingers came into contact with cold ice as they pressed against his chest.

"N-no…" she whispered, hot tears stinging her eyes.

Even with the impending danger, Loup Gris had still looked down at her with nothing but fondness in his crystalline eyes. Fondness she didn't deserve.

Can we unfreeze him, Lykke? Elsa asked. She may have said it in her head but even her inner monologue seemed to tremble, fearing her kwami's response.

"I…think so…" the kwami responded.

The hesitation was not lost on Elsa.

Where there's hope, there's a way, she told herself. There has to be.

She didn't want to consider the alternative.

Now, more than ever, the fate of Paris depended on what she did next. It wasn't the time to consider possibilities but to act on them. What was it that her classmate "Gogo" always says?

"Woman up," Lykke said.

Elsa nodded. It was up to her to save the day.

Blinking away her tears, she got to her feet. Her muscles ached from her spill, the worst of the pain coming from her throbbing head. But as she stepped around Loup Gris and into the Jötunn's line of vision, her eyes narrowed in a heated glare.

"You picked the wrong Bee to mess with," Elsa whispered, her hands clenching into fists.

.

Jötunn was weak. It had wasted too much of its energy on the snow storm it inflicted on central Paris. The creature could no longer regenerate its limbs and, to top things off, the stupid thing had frozen one of the vigilantes before Pitch could get his hands on the Marvelous trinket.

No matter, Pitch thought, his eyes darting across the screen. I will break apart that statue and unthaw the Marvelous myself!

There still posed one problem with that plan: Honeybee.

"It's time she met a similar fate," Pitch said, grinning. "Jötunn! Freeze the girl! Then the city! Show them all the power of winter!"

Soon those Marvelous will be mine!

.

With her increased agility, Elsa darted across the vehicles that lined the edge of the street. But it didn't matter: even with the Jötunn crawling on its torso, every surface her feet touched turned to rock-solid ice. It was giving all that it got and no longer holding anything back.

I need to separate it from the source of its power, she thought. If only I had a bit more luck!

She landed on a delivery truck, sliding over the roof and dropping down on the sidewalk. It shielded her from the Jötunn's freezing breath but she still had to act quick.

Pulling her stinger off her belt, she unfolded the fan.

"Lucky charm!" she shouted, tossing the fan into the air.

It spun clockwise in an explosion of yellow sparkles. The yellow sparkles burst into light energy, the energy coming together to form a black and yellow mirror. Elsa blinked up in surprise, catching the medium-sized vanity mirror in her hands.

"…what am I supposed to do with this?" she mumbled.

"Identify the problem before you try to find your solution," Lykke said.

What was her problem?

The frozen delivery truck cracked as it was blasted with more of the Jötunn's icy breath. Spikes of ice formed through the cracks, stabbing Elsa in her side. It wasn't going to hold for much longer.

I can't get close enough to see its power source, Elsa realized.

Seeing…seeing…

As she tilted the mirror in her hands, it caught the low, late afternoon sun. Elsa nearly dropped the mirror as the bright light stung her eyes.

That's it!

But her eureka moment was short-lived. The delivery truck shattered and Elsa had to blindly roll to her side, tucking the mirror against her chest to keep it from breaking. Crouching behind another vehicle, she blinked rapidly to make the fireworks stop exploding in front of her eyes. Everything was blurry but once she adjusted her vision, her mind was already jumping to the next step. The sun was to her left so her best option was to try and get in front of it and angle the mirror while the Jötunn was facing her. It also would help if she could get a bit higher.

Peeking around the side of the vehicle, she used her hand to shield against the shards of ice bouncing off the car. Her eyes fell to the half-frozen, abandoned double-decker tour bus in the middle of the road.

Bingo.

She mapped out her course, her eyes darting from each object.

Car, car, wall, streetlight, bus!

This car was also buckling under the pressure of ice inflicted by the Jötunn.

It's now or never!

Elsa took off at full speed, nimbly hopping onto the first car, then the truck beside it. She needed to be one step ahead of it.

"Faster!"

The truck froze as she pushed off of it, using the force to increase her velocity. She could feel the Jötunn's breath chasing her as her feet touched the wall of the apartment building and she began running horizontally towards the streetlight. Leaping from the wall, the tip of her shoe touched the streetlight and she somersaulted in the air.

She landed gracefully on the open roof of the tour bus. Stretching her arms in front of her, she quickly angled the mirror towards the Jötunn and shut her eyes to avoid blinding herself from the sun.

Anything could happen now: if she angled the mirror wrong, she would feel the full force of the Jötunn's icy breath. If her calculations were correct, the creature would be temporarily blinded.

Before any freezing breath could hit her, she heard the creature yowling in rage.

"Rrrraargggghh!"

Squinting carefully, she looked down and saw the creature on its side, its icy claws covering its face. Something dark and obsidian stuck out on its left hand: a black band sealed around one of its spiked fingers.

I found its energy source!

Setting down the mirror, she pulled out her fan. She flung it with all her strength and the fan whirred through the air, spinning horizontally towards its target. It sliced through the Jötunn's icicle claws, also taking out part of the creature's snowy head in the process. Its fingers fell to the road and shattered on the ice.

Hopping off the bus with her mirror, Elsa rushed towards the black energy smoking off the road. She raised her free arm and caught her fan as it boomeranged back. A small, black butterfly fluttered out of the dark smoke.

"Not so fast," she said.

Trapping it in her fan, she waited a moment before opening it once more. This time, a white butterfly emerged, sparkles dusting off its pale wings. It was cleansed of the dark energy that had cursed it.

"Goodbye, little papillon."

With the butterfly restored, the Jötunn shrank in size, its body transforming into a teenage boy. Elsa blinked in surprise. The ginger hair belonged to none other than her obnoxious classmate, Hans Westergaard. But instead of his trademark smirk, he was doubled over on the ice and groaning, clearly disoriented.

He did all of this?

Jötunn was unlike any villain Loup Gris and Honeybee had faced yet. Sure, he wasn't unstoppable but the power the creature had, its ability to freeze over and create violent storms, was nothing Honeybee had ever seen. Only a person with that much anger in their heart could harness that kind of dark energy.

And as Elsa's eyes rested on the frozen statue of Loup Gris, she wanted to hate Hans. It wasn't just his bullying of her; his arrogance and entitlement made him the obnoxious prat he was, made him treat everyone as if they were undeserving of his respect.

It made him unlikeable but that wasn't why she wanted to hate him. She wanted to hate Hans for his anger at the world, for acting as if it owed him something. Every day, every interaction, he had a choice in how he treated people. And he chose to be angry and contemptuous, making him an easy target for Pitch Black.

But she also knew that his choice was taken from him when he came in contact with the butterfly, no different than the other people Pitch had manipulated. And if she carried that same anger and hate in her heart, she could one day become just like Jötunn, another tool in Pitch's arsenal.

A monster.

She looked away from where Hans lay unconscious, shaking her head. No. She wasn't going to let herself become like him.

She was the hero of Luck. It was time to balance the odds in her favor and bring back her friend.

Throwing the mirror into the air, it exploded in a shower of sparkles. Every sparkle that touched the ice melted it away, restoring Rue des Martyrs to its original state. As Elsa ran over to the ice statue of Loup Gris, the remaining sparkles spread across the figure. In a burst of yellow light, the ice disappeared and the wolf-eared hero dropped to the ground.

Dropping to her knees, Elsa's throat was so heavy, she found herself unable to voice the words sitting on her tongue. She tried turning him over to face her, fearing the worse, but she flinched as her gloved hand came into contact with his shoulder. He was cold to the touch.

"Loup Gris…"

He began shivering violently, curling his body up to trap what little heat was left inside him. Elsa breathed a sigh of relief.

"H-h-h-honeyb-b-b-eee," he shivered. His voice sounded dry and cracked.

She knew their transformations were wearing off. She had never felt this drained from fighting an akuma. But her greatest concern at the moment was getting Loup Gris warm before he came down with hypothermia or worse. Before he—

Don't even think it.

Even thinking of the word made something rip inside of her.

We need to get him inside, Elsa thought. Even if it means revealing who I am.

.

"No no no no NO!"

Pitch blasted dark energy at the screen. The view of Rue des Martyrs sparked and flickered. Seeing the unconscious form of the once akuma laying in the street sparked little sympathy in Pitch's cold heart. All he felt was the bitter taste of disappointment from yet another failed project.

Once the screen flickered off, Pitch Black slipped into the shadows. It was the only place that could calm the rage broiling inside of him. He needed time to rejuvenate, to harness more of the dark energy that he would unleash on Honeybee and Loup Gris.

He vowed to learn their identities. He would then expose them to the world and destroy everything they loved, tormenting them slowly until their hearts grew cold with every defeat. Once they learned the taste of failure, he would crush their spirits completely until there was nothing but the darkness he could twist and use.

Then, he will take their Marvelous and corrupt the power of Luck in his favor.

He will destroy them.

All he needed was to bide his time.

.

Honeybee pushed open the door, pulling Loup Gris into the storage closet with her. His arm was draped over her shoulders, though she also held him to her side so he could put more weight on her. Though her abilities gave her slightly more strength than her civilian form, she had used too much of her powers to restore Rue des Martyrs. Lykke was exhausted and it was by some miracle that Elsa remained merged with her kwami.

Setting him down on a box, Elsa shut the door and flicked on the light switch. The light bulb was mostly dead and cast a weak glow that was little better than finding one's way through the woods by moonlight. But with Loup Gris shivering and limping from his leg wound, Elsa had had few options but to bring him into the nearest apartment building and break into a storage room, especially with both of them about to revert back to their civilian forms. Now, all she needed was to find something to help keep him warm.

"H-h-honeyb-b-bee…" he tried to say.

"Save your energy," she demanded.

Blood trickled down her face and she hastily swiped it away. She had forgotten she was wounded. Maybe her exhaustion wasn't the only reason she was feeling so dizzy.

Rummaging through one of the boxes, she nearly sighed in relief as she pulled out a fire blanket. It seemed she had found the spare safety equipment for the building.

"This will have to do," she said.

Loup Gris was sitting only a few paces from her but as she tried to walk over to him, a wave of dizziness had her tripping forward. Immediately, his trembling hands reached out to steady her. There was no denying the concern on his face.

"Y-y-y-your h-h-hurt," he stuttered.

His hands still felt cold enough to make her wince.

"Don't worry about me. Here."

She carefully slid next to him on the box, wrapping the blanket around both of them. The rough material was meant to contain heat, not provide it. That meant she was going to have to do the providing.

Under any other circumstances, she would have colored at their close contact. But his body felt as if it was emanating an ice cold aura and that was more worrying than her own shyness.

Despite shivering, Loup Gris stiffened when Honeybee wrapped her arms around him beneath the blanket and pressed him intimately against her side. She knew from basic survival training that the best way to warm him up would be for both of them to strip down but she was only 15 and still had her limits. Instead, she shifted so his forehead rested in the crook of her neck, one of the only places where her skin was exposed. The position wasn't necessarily comfortable, with one of his large ears tickling the tip of hers and his spiked collar digging into her collarbone, but it was the best she could offer.

"A-a-already m-m-m-oving to s-s-s-econd b-b-base?" Loup Gris joked. But his vocal chords still hadn't recovered and the sound came out more like a croak. "H-h-haven't e-e-even k-k-kissed y-y-yet."

Elsa had feared her own body temperature was dropping because of his. But the surge of irritation she felt at the remark was bringing it back up. She could always count on him to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

"I'm not opposed to bringing you back out there for round 2 with the Jötunn," she threatened.

She was expecting him to chuckle. Or to follow that comment with something as equally inappropriate or crass. What she wasn't expecting was for him to sigh dejectedly into her neck.

His grip on her loosened but Elsa wouldn't let him pull away from her. Annoying or not, he needed her body heat.

"I-I-I'm s-s-sorry," he said, quietly.

She wanted to tell him it was okay. That she wasn't mad at him for making his jokes. But then she pictured him, the freezing breath hitting his back, his blue eyes locking onto hers as his body froze…

"You should be," she said.

Her cool tone made him flinch in her arms.

"Here you are, making these stupid jokes. You don't even think about what just happened out there," she continued. Her tone only got harsher as she released everything she had been bottling up for the last hour. "The Jötunn was destroying the city! I had to fight it off myself because you—you—"

She was shocked when the tears came. She hadn't been expecting them until everything became blurry. She wanted to blink them back but holding back made her feel more distressed. Before she knew it, those angry tears spilled down her cheeks, dripping into Loup Gris' silver hair.

"—I thought you were dead." Her voice cracked at the admission. "I thought I'd never hear your terrible puns or your maddening flirty comments again. I thought you'd left me alone and I—"

She was no longer just holding him to keep him warm but hugging him tightly. Her entire body was shaking as she tried to hold back her sobs. But still, she couldn't keep the tears from escaping and she cried harder when his shivering fingers gently wiped them away.

"—I'm not worth s-saving," she said, her lips trembling. "And you—you jumped in front of me! You nearly died and—," she pushed weakly against his chest, "—now you're telling me dumb jokes about s-second base! Do you not get that you almost died because of me?!"

She knew she sounded hysterical. But her heart was racing and he was shivering and nothing was making sense. His bright, blue eyes seemed to glow like sapphires in the dark and the more she stared into them, the more she forgot to breathe. She was getting lost in him, in his smell—something earthy, with the hint of pine—it smelled familiar in a way she couldn't quite place, couldn't think with her arms gripping his cool shoulders.

"H-Honeybee," he whispered, his eyes wide.

By some unknown force, she was tilting up and pressing her lips against his. His lips were rough and chapped but all she felt was an explosion of sparks. It made her pulse thrum, made her press a bit further into him, welcome his trembling hands that tentatively touched her waist. She didn't know what drew her to him, what made her have a change of heart. Maybe deep down, she had always wondered about the person behind the cocky smile, the hero who gave as much of himself to this city as she did.

Maybe I've been waiting to see who he really is.

Loup Gris may have acted like a reckless flirt. But the masked hero who jumped into freezing breath – that was the hero she wanted to know.

When they pulled apart, she released a shuddery breath. His eyes studied her curiously, though his lips tugged in an almost hidden smile. She found herself looking away shyly.

It didn't mean she forgave him for being so reckless.

"Promise me you'll never do that again," she whispered.

His fingers gently tilted her face towards him, forcing her to meet his eyes. For once, he had a serious expression on his face. "Promise me you'll never be in danger again."

It wasn't a promise she could make.

"You're infuriating," she said, shaking her head.

"And you're always going to be worth saving," he answered. He took her hand in his and she was surprised that it felt a lot warmer than before. "Paris needs you, Honeybee. And I…I need—"

His spiked collar beeped. His eyes widened.

"—need you to leave," he finished. Dropping her hand, he added, "My transformation's almost up."

"I can't keep this up, Elsa!" Lykke warned.

"Maybe…it wouldn't be a bad idea," Elsa said. Her hand felt cold now that it was no longer in his.

She smiled hesitantly. "If we knew each other's identities…"

Loup Gris looked away. "I…I'm sorry. I'm not ready to share that with you."

She was almost hurt by his refusal. But she saw the way his ears drooped, how he slouched and refused to meet her questioning gaze.

He thinks I won't like him behind his mask, she realized.

She may have considered it before, how immature or insufferable he would be without his anonymity. 'Insecure' would not have been the word she would use to describe him. As they slowly peeled away each other's layers, Elsa was becoming aware of how much of a mystery he remained to her.

Instead of pushing him further, she squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "Another time, then. When you're ready."

When we're both ready.

They exchanged a look. Heat rose in Elsa's cheeks. Her eyes involuntarily darted down to his lips.

Awkwardly, she got to her feet. "I'll see you around, Loup Gris."

He scratched the back of his head, blushing as he looked away. "Uh, y-yeah. See you around."

She closed the door behind her as she stepped out into the hallway. She hardly took two steps before she felt the sparkle of light tickle her skin as her kwami separated from her. But instead of floating in the air beside her, Lykke was on the ground, groaning.

"Lykke!" Elsa cried out, dropping down to her knees.

She worriedly picked up the yellow and black Kwami.

"Want…honey…" the kwami moaned, tiredly.

Elsa sighed in relief.

But her lips still tingled from the warm kiss she had shared with Loup Gris. She unconsciously licked them, her eyes fluttering closed as she relived the moment. He had felt both cold and warm pressed against her. His body may have been cool but his touch awakened a heat in her that had made her stomach flutter. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, except—

Except when Jacques had held my hand, she thought.

And now here she was, pining over two different people.

"When did having a double life get so confusing?" she groaned.

.

Throughout the entire day, Jacques was unable to wipe the grin from his face. He felt like he was floating on air as he went from class-to-class. What little focus he had on his lessons always drifted when he closed his eyes: if he concentrated hard enough, he could still smell the faint aroma of her honey scented perfume, feel her warm alabaster skin on his fingertips, taste her raspberry flavor gloss on his lips…

"You really need to stop daydreaming, mate," Aster had whispered in third period.

When Mme. Lévêque glared at them, they both smiled nervously, praying to any deity that would listen to not be her next victim. Luckily, Elsa was quick to respond, taking focus from her classmates.

Jacques was going to have to find some way to thank her later.

It was now the end of the day. With classes over, Jacques giddily dropped his textbooks off at his locker. It was already Friday and he didn't have a shoot until Sunday afternoon so he had a Saturday of r&r to look forward to. Plus, with the cut in his leg stinging every time he put too much pressure on it, he really needed the resting part. Fang's energy had been nearly drained completely keeping Jacques body alive when they had turned into a wolfsicle. This meant that Jacques' wound would have to heal the old fashioned way.

But that kiss…he couldn't stop thinking about her. Honeybee had kissed him! But what an idiot he had been, kicking her out of the storage closet instead of letting her see the real him. She meant so much to Jacques, more than he could wrap his head around. Yet if she knew that he was nothing but some pretty boy kid with a trust fund…

She was a true hero at heart. A selfless warrior who defended Paris from evil.

He wanted to show her the real 'him'. But he knew that the guy beneath the mask would never live up to what she deserved.

Sighing, he chased away his pitiful thoughts. It was no use feeling sorry for himself. In his darkest moment, she had held him, saving him as she had saved the rest of city. He would take what little warmth she gave him and celebrate this small victory.

"Jacques!"

Jacques stopped in the middle of the hallway as Elsa called out to him. He tried stepping aside as students milled about him, most heading for the main entrance to start their weekend.

Stopping in front of him, Elsa tried to meet his gaze but her eyes dropped shyly to the ground. "Th-there's something I need to give you."

As she started rummaging around in her bag, Jacques couldn't help but smile: Elsa was such a sweet person and…to be honest, incredibly cute. Had his heart not belonged to the yellow and black masked heroine of Paris, he could easily see himself falling for her.

"Where is it?" she mumbled to herself.

Jacques smile faded as he noticed the small cut in her hairline. "That wasn't there yesterday."

She paused her search, eyes darting up to meet his. A small blush warmed her cheeks. "O-oh. I…well…that is…I fell. After you left. While I was…uh…hiding. In the café."

Something didn't sound quite right about her explanation. But he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"I saw you limping today," Elsa said quickly, resuming her search. She seemed too eager to break eye contact with him. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Now, it was Jacques' turn to flush. With a nervous chuckle, he said, "Ah, um…right. I…fell. On ice. You know, after…when I was…going to my sister's school…"

He was a terrible liar. But if she was suspicious, it didn't show on her face.

"Ah, here it is!"

She pulled out a small basket from her bag, one that could easily fit into Jacques' hand. The woven basket had been carefully wrapped in clear cellophane and tied together with a decorative red and green bow. Inside, there was about half a dozen freshly baked cookies, each with its own unique cut and icing drawn design. Jacques had never received any kind of handmade gift before, usually only whatever random designer piece of clothing his father's assistant handed to him on special occasions, and was touched by Elsa's thoughtfulness.

"You seemed to like our cookies so I baked these this morning," Elsa said, smiling bashfully. "I felt bad that we couldn't study yesterday but…if you're free tomorrow, maybe we can review our History notes together?"

He had to admit, there was something about her smile that was making his stomach flutter.

"O-of course," he answered, accepting the basket from Elsa. His fingers tingled when they brushed against hers. "I—thank you. I really wasn't expecting this. I didn't even get you anything!"

"I don't need anything," she said, laughing. "Besides, I still have your umbrella. So let's call it even."

They both laughed awkwardly, exchanging a shy look. Jacques' pulse was racing so fast, it was making him feel a little lightheaded. Deep down, he knew what he felt and who he felt it for. But his thoughts were thrown in confusion as he looked into Elsa's eyes, a shade of blue that resonated a familiarity he couldn't quite identify.

"Merry Christmas, Jacques," she whispered.

"Hey, guess who's under the mistletoe?" Fred snickered, clapping Jacques on the back as he walked by, shiny new whistle around his neck.

Both Jacques and Elsa looked up. Sure enough, their entire conversation had occurred under the mistletoe that had somehow found its way at the opposite end of the hall today.

Elsa's face went an even darker shade of red. It made the pale freckles that dusted her cheeks stand out.

Jacques' face was warm as well. He had managed to anger Vidia yesterday by rejecting her advances under this same mistletoe (and paid for it with her frosty glares all day). But giving Elsa, a girl who hasn't been obsessively hounding over him all term, a small peck seemed innocent enough.

"Merry Christmas, Elsa," he whispered, tilting his face down towards hers.

His eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed against hers. It was like electricity bursting along his skin, her kiss making him shiver and burn all at once. The taste of her raspberry lips was intoxicating, the scent of her honeyed perfume dizzying. It sparked a hunger in him that wanted to press further, push through those lips and taste her as intimately as a kiss would allow.

But Jacques-Faust Beauchamp was a gentlemen through and through. So after a few moments, he reluctantly broke the kiss, shifting to hide his obvious…discomfort. Sure, he was a 15 year old guy but a kiss shouldn't have that kind of effect on him! The only girl who ever had that effect on him was—

As Jacques looked into Elsa's eyes, his own widened in shock.

"Elsa! Let's go already!"

The cut on her forehead…the raspberry lip gloss…

Tip waved impatiently at Elsa.

Those eyes…

"I should—there is—yeah—" Elsa squeaked.

She scurried off to join Tip. Jacques wanted to say 'goodbye' but he only managed a weak wave. His eyes caught the golden bee pins in her braid as she walked away. Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place.

"No way…" he whispered in disbelief.

~*. Fin .*~

1 Shit!

2 Grilled wolf and fried honeybee

3 My little wolf (petit is used as a term of endearment in French)

4 butterfly

5 My dear

6 Harry Potter term for when a wizard or witch magically teleports to another location. In this case, Lykke appears magically at Elsa's side once the transformation wears off.

7 Seconde is the first year of Lycée (grades 10-12) in France.

8 Sacred Heart Senior High School.

9 Winter Technology Incorporated

10 Often referred to as "high school" in English, this would be grades 6-9 in France. For comparative purposes, I will refer to it as junior high school.

11 Jean Brebeuf Junior High School

12 September part 2

13 Goodbye.