Disclaimer: I don't own Miraculous Ladybug or the concept of Coccinelle the Vigilante. I'm just borrowing her for a bit because she's pretty. :3

ORIGINS PART 1

The mid-morning weather was perfect for month of May. The day promised to be cool and pleasant for the Exposition Universelle. Her bedroom window, overlooking the lovely front gardens, shimmered with sunlight, the iridescent curtains swaying in the light, pleasant breeze.

Solene's blue eyes clenched as the laces snapped her spine to a straight line and the burgundy corset cut across her breast. Holding her breath, she clutched tightly with whitening fingertips to the bedpost as her old maid yanked relentlessly, tightening her waist to a narrow point. With a light sigh, feeling the laces being tied off, Solene brushed a bit of flyaway raven hair out of her face and turned with her arms up to be drowned in red fabric. Her vision was covered in lace and ribbons for a moment before the lovely crimson gown filtered perfectly over her small frame.

"Thank Dieu for corsets. We may snag you a husband yet!" The elderly woman smirked as she straightened the ruffled cuffs of Solene's red dress. It dipped low at her chest - yet high enough for modesty's sake - and flared from her bound waist to fall into layered ruffles down to her ankles. Her maid's wizened fingers zoomed straight to Solene's chest and pushed up her small breasts without another word. Solene jumped back with a gasp.

"Marjoline!" She winced as she hit the bedpost with her elbow. "Stop already!"

"Gotta fluff up your girls a little more, ma coeur. You're finally starting to fill out." The elderly woman nodded approvingly as Solene straightened the little she had with blushing cheeks. "Took you long enough. That Bourgeois brat has already gone to the next size in undergarments!"

"How do you know that?" Solene asked, hating the envy that swam inside her stomach. Claudette Bourgeois would have that kind of rumor spreading about her. Not quite friends, not quite enemies, Solene knew the high-class girl only suffered through her presence at social gatherings because her father was a large patron for the newest, most popular symbol in Paris: The Eiffel Tower. With this Exposition today, the Montilyets would go down in history.

And that gave Solene a status - a very rich status.

"I shop with her head maid -who refuses to shut up about it. To gushing about something like that," the maid snorted, "seems her figure is the only thing going for her. Too bad that's all young men these days seem to care about."

"This entire getup is pointless. I'm not going to find a husband at the Exposition. I don't care about attracting anyone."

"Ah, yes, all you care about are your silly stories. What's the new one this time?"

"Books are not silly!" Solene snapped back, truly offended. "And it's called Treasure Island. It's amazing-"

"Before you go in La-La Land spouting off book nonsense, I don't read, I will never read, and I don't care about it. Now sit so I can do something I care about, which is make you presentable for this affair."

Sighing and rolling her eyes at Marjoline's turned back, she followed the old maid across the room to her vanity and plopped on the cushioned seat with a huff. Marjoline's hands instantly began parting her thick dark locks to twist into elaborate designs.

Having been with the Montilyets for more than three decades, the old woman was more of a mother than maid. Especially when she started going off about all the available bachelors that floated in their social circle. Having lost her own mother when she was a child, Solene took comfort in the fact she had someone as dependable - if not a bit deranged - as dear Marjoline.

And speaking of deranged…

"You just wait! You can meet a suitable potential under the most unexpected of circumstances," Marjoline said with a wise glint in her brown eyes. The gray wisps escaping her bun, she gave the young girl a wink in the mirror before snatching a pin from the vanity. "Besides, you shall be a belle of the party at this Expo. Mark my words. If that young rascal, Bernard Abelin, would just look your way for a moment, he would never give that Bourgeois chit another glance."

"Urgh, Bernard?" Solene made a face. "He's just as conceded as Claudette! They deserve each other!"

"He is handsome, old money, great prospects, and a tie to the royal line - through his mother's family tree if I remember correctly," Marjoline argued around a pin in her mouth. Sweeping another elaborate twist, she scowled. "He would be a perfect match for you."

Solene rolled her eyes and Marjoline clicked her tongue critically.

"No eye-rolling, young lady! Men don't want a sassy wife."

"Who says I want a husband?"

"Not this again…" The maid groaned while pinning another portion of her hair.

"I don't!"

"Bite your tongue!"

"I'm serious, Marjoline!" Solene frowned at herself in the mirror despite her hair becoming a beautiful twist around her head. "Why is it every single social event I attend always revolves around if I can get a man? I'd rather just stay home if that's the case!"

"And lose to that Bourgeois brat? Not while I still draw breath!"

"Claudette Bourgeois can have them! She can have all of them! I don't want to get married! There is absolutely no one in Paris who is worth my time! The City of Love doesn't exist!"

"Your dramatics do you no credit, young lady." The old woman scolded before a sigh escaped her lips. She finished the last pin in Solene's hair. Her arms dropping to her side, the young girl caught the tired look in her eye before she could cover it. "Someday you will grow up and find someone worthy of you, ma coeur. You'll find the one meant for you. It may not be Monsieur Abelin as I would want, but there is someone out there for you. Just… don't write romance off too easily."

"I'm not built for such nonsense," Solene dismissed, turning away from her vanity and standing to brush her skirts. With a defeated exhale, she reached over and snatched Marjoline's wrinkled hand, pulling the old woman close. Wrapping her arms around the maid's thin shoulders, she whispered, "I promise you if I ever find anyone worthy of my time, I will grovel on my knees and proclaim that you were right and I was wrong for an entire fortnight."

"Make that two fortnights," Marjoline chuckled and returned the hug.

"It's not going to be Bernard though."

"You're too good for him anyway, ma coeur."

"Gaspard! Grab the croissants!"

"Yes, Papa!" The young man called from the back, flicking the blond hair out of his brilliant green eyes.

He snatched up the tray of newly baked croissants and balanced both it and the basket of wrapped macarons on his shoulders as he shuffled out the back room. Upon entering the front of the bakery, he hurried to the heating rack just as another customer stepped up. His father, Marcus Dupain, was a thick man with dark hair and heavy arms built for baking. His son, however, was quite the opposite: tall, lean, and fair as a sunflower. He was strong in his own right, but he took after his mother in appearance.

Watching his son from the corner of his eye, a sly grin slipped on his lips at the blustering young woman who blushed as Gaspard handed her the basket.

"Pour vous, Mademoiselle." Gaspard Dupain smiled at the young woman, who grasped the basket with both hands and stumbled out of the shop as if hit by an arrow of love.

"Four baguettes!" Marcus shouted, taking the next order.

"On it!" Gaspard instantly leaped over the counter and slid to the wrapped baguettes. Plucking out four, he handed them to Marcus with a sideways grin.

"Busy day, Papa!"

"The loaves in the oven are ready, mon fils!" Marcus ordered, and his son's green eyes widened charmingly before he raced to the back of the shop to pull them out.

"You and your son make quite the baker's pair." The older gentleman laughed as he placed his baguettes into his shopping satchel.

"I can't run the shop without him." Dupain grinned and gave the man his change. "He's not bad for business either…" Glancing over the gentleman's shoulder, they both looked at the chattering group of ladies standing in line behind him. The line was almost out the door. "You are fortunate to get here so early, Monsieur Révérer. We will be closing temporarily today to sell our pastries at the Exposition. I wanted to test the new éclairs."

"New éclairs? Got a new recipe?" Révérer asked interestedly, moving aside so the young lady behind him could order.

Dupain nodded. "Gaspard thought it up. Baker's instincts are the only thing he inherited from me."

"I'll take one then!" The gentleman announced, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

"Dozen croissants, please," the girl said breathlessly as Gaspard appeared from around back once more carrying six large loaves on a tray. Her dark eyes followed his back and Marcus struggled to hide his laugh. Turning to the rack, he plucked up the plump croissants with tongs and put them into the wax paper spread on the long counter top just as his son finished loading the bread. Letting Gaspard take over the girl's order, which made her blush and practically swoon, Marcus opened the glass case of delicacies just below the counter. Snatching up an éclair, he handed it to the gentleman.

"Will you be at the Expo?"

"Celebrating the opening of our Paris' masterpiece? Wouldn't miss it!" Révérer's eyes lit up at the éclair. "I'll also be looking for you for another one of these!"

"Gaspard will be there instead of me. I have a cake to make," Marcus said proudly. "He is taking the cart."

"I will try to see him there then!"

The gentleman left with a cheery wave and the morning continued. Gaspard and Marcus served the customers as a perfect team, practically reading each other's thoughts. As the line finally began to dwindle, Marcus counted the leftover baguettes and was pleasantly surprised to find only three remained from the twelve dozen he'd baked early that morning. The éclairs and macarons to be sold at the Exposition were getting bundled into the small cart by Gaspard; however, many of the pasties in the case had been sold. All in all, the morning rush couldn't have gone better. Sending the last customer off with two loaves of white bread, he locked the door and let out a deep exhale. The steady chaos of the day made the silence seem almost foreign. Heading around back, he spied his son carrying the delicately wrapped pastries out the back door to the cart. Picking up a basket of leftover croissants, he passed Gaspard on the way out.

"Closed the front?" His son asked.

Dupain grunted for 'yes'. "Last customer's gone. As soon as we get you packed up, I'll get started on that cake."

"Don't frost without me!" Gaspard's light voice called and Marcus let out a loud laugh, setting the basket into the wooden cart. The day was beautiful, clear, and lovely. It was a perfect for the Expo. He hoped his son would have fun despite working through it. Knowing Gaspard, however, the boy'd make sure to sell every single piece of pastry before even looking at the tower. Dependable, reliable, and kind to a fault, Marcus counted himself blessed to have such a helpful son.

Especially since Eliza's passing two years ago...

"If these éclairs sell well, I'll consider making them a staple in the display case," Marcus said as Gaspard's blond head appeared at the doorway. "And since you are doing all the grunt work going today, how about I let you pick the frosting and design for this cake."

Settling the last of the pastries into the cart, his son sighed and smiled. "Actually, I'm a bit nervous to go to the Expo. I wonder what kind of people will be there."

His father chuckled. "The people there are customers. Just given them the ol' charm and we'll be sold out in no time. Better change out of those flour-stained pants though. You'll never find a belle that way."

"Papaaa…" Gaspard rolled his green eyes, but his smile grew wider. "I'll change, but only to look more presentable for our store."

His son turned back to the bakery door and Marcus couldn't help himself.

"And comb your hair!"

He had to do this quickly. It would only be a matter of days before the akumas began to appear.

The young boy, his thin eyes peering through a worn newsy cap, waited near the wall, watching across the street as the father, Marcus Dupain, locked the heavy door for the day. Straightening the heavy satchel strapped to his shoulders, he fiddled with the green bracelet around his small wrist.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" A little green head poked from the satchel's leather flap. "You don't have the means for traditional tests of skill. You cannot guarantee that he'll be a good fit. It might turn into-"

"Wayzz…" The young boy sighed and shifted his light-brown eyes to the small turtle creature. "What other choices do I have? With the temple destroyed..." an ancient pain laced behind his eyes that didn't match his youth, "...I have no one else."

"But you've got me, Fu," Wayzz murmured quietly. The boy's lips curled affectionately, his small fingers continuing to play with the jade bracelet.

"We still need protection. A line of defense. With the Butterfly taken, he has the power in his hands to overwhelm even your shields, Wayzz. Think if he gets his hands on the book? Or other Miraculous?" Fu shook his head, his hand lowering to grab the satchel protectively. "No. This is the best course of action. It's what Master would have done. Paris is an old city with powerful magic at its core. There have been some splendid Chosen from here."

"But whomever you choose will have no training, no true understanding of their gifts!"

"That is what their kwami is for, right? You taught me."

"Not that I had a choice in the matter."

"We both didn't, my friend."

A hard cross of silence fell between kwami and human.

"I'll awaken only the Ladybug and the Cat," Fu said after a moment. "That will be more than enough to hold back Butterfly's akumas. They will distract him while I find his lair."

"Being a kwami of wisdom, I can spy quite a few holes in this plan of yours - the biggest being if you choose the right people for the job. How much will you tell them? And are you sure you're ready to test? We only just got here a month ago and you already think you have a chosen?" The turtle's voice was lilting skeptically.

"I don't have time to second guess myself. He hands out dozens of croissants to the street children every day. You can see the kindness in his eyes. There's a compassion for people that is rare these days."

"The free food is nice, but how will you test him? Kindness doesn't equate to courage or valor."

Fu didn't answer, but there was a glint of mischievousness in his eye.

The green kwami sighed. "You're not going to tell me, are you? Fine then, can you promise me we aren't going to die today?"

"Not if he saves us."

"Oh, Dieu…"

Solene scratched her chin as the carriage rolled on the cobblestone pathway towards Pont d'Iena. Watching the scenery pass her by, the buildings finally cleared to show the lovely Seine River. The rocking waters sparkled in the bright noon sunlight. Releasing a low sigh, she automatically tuned out the chattering conversations of Claudette and her cronies and thought back to the newest part in Treasure Island. She could just see the pirate ship floating in the Seine, her imagination practically recreating what she's read: Smollett's refusal to surrender the map and "Long John" Silver threatening to attack, swishing his raiser to the sky in fierce declaration. The sea breeze tossing his long captain's coat and playing with the tall, white feather on his salt-eaten Buccaneer hat-

"What do you think, Solene?" A voice cropped through her image of the pirate and she twisted her eyes from the invisible ship to the three ladies staring at her. Having no idea what they could possibly have been speaking about for the past ten minutes, she took a stab in the dark.

"Sounds dull."

"I know? Utterly dull! I would never want to visit that place ever again! Oh, and the lace there was from three seasons ago! Don't they realize red is in?" Claudette broke out in her usual ramble, her light blue eyes slipping over Solene's crimson dress. Much to the raven-haired girl's chagrin, the Bourgeois had somehow figured out exactly what Solene was planning to wear to this Expo and decided to match as close as possible.

"To show how close we are!" Claudette had cooed once she'd climbed into the carriage and saw.

Solene had inwardly cringed.

The carriage slowed as the crowd beginning to grow thicker. Then they turned the corner and the tower was in full sight.

"Look at it!" Claudette gasped, leaning over one of her friends to get a closer look out the window. "It's hideous!"

"I heard it is the tallest man-made structure in the world!"

"Bernard told me that the inspiration for it was from some observatory in New York. Apparently, he was having dinner with Maurice Koechlin, who was one of the senior engineers. He frequently visits the Abelin's home for parties and such. I've asked Bernard to extend the invitation to my family the next time he comes. I'm sure Bernard would do that even if I didn't ask. He's such a-"

Whatever Bernard was, Solene was back to tuning out Claudette as her blue eyes focused on the new symbol of Paris. She had seen the glimpses of the blueprints on her father's desk, but hadn't been able to imagine what it could possibly look like.

And now, standing like France's own Pyramid of Giza, the Eiffel Tower was in full display.

"I thought it was going to be a different color! Why rust orange? Bleck!" Claudette laughed.

It wasn't too long - or in Solene's mind, an eternity - that the carriage couldn't go any further due to the crowd. Stepping out gratefully, Solene grasped the footman's hand and hurried off the street to the sidewalk. As the other girls filed in behind her, she led the way across the bridge towards the monument. Vendors, balloons, laughter, conversations, and the rush of a clear breeze brought the smile back to Solene's face.

She might have said she didn't believe in The City of Love to Marjoline, but right then, she truly felt the beautiful city as a whole.

Gaspard walked the streets of his city, people's eyes sliding curiously to both him and the cart as he passed. He smiled, nodding at a few familiar faces, but all in all, he walked alone to the Exposition, following the meandering crowd. Dressed in his nicest clean white shirt and brown suspenders, he wondered if wearing his flour-covered pants would have been a problem. People of all shapes and dress were out and about, loud conversations and laughter filling the air. No wonder the bakery had such a good morning. It was only a few blocks away from the Pont d'Iena.

Rolling the cart, his mind idly skimming over various flavors of frosting he could put on the cake when he got home, he almost missed the loud scream. A thunder of hooves on cobblestone and someone ahead of him shouting, "runaway horse!" stopped him completely. His green eyes quickly slipping to the streets, he finally spied the horse, a red roan, galloping wildly with eyes rolling. People parted, men tried to make a grab for it - which spooked the animal further.

And then Gaspard saw something that made his stomach twist. A young boy in a newsy cap was standing in the street, his back facing the rampaging horse.

"Fuyez!" He shouted to the boy, who didn't seem to notice the pandemonium around him. "Run away!" Without another thought, his hands left the cart, his feet moved forward, and he dashed out into the street. The red roan was closing in. Gaspard pushed his long legs-

And snatching the boy's thin waist, he rolled just in time for the horse to thunder past. Holding him close lying on the street, he was panting with adrenaline. His left arm was stinging, but everything else seemed to be working fine.

"Are you alright?" He asked the boy. Releasing the youngster, he rose to his knees and glanced at his arm. A large angry whelp was growing, but his green eyes left his wound to immediately scan the boy. He was foreign, from the Far East. His eyes were light with intelligence. Gaspard hadn't noticed before, but a tattered leather satchel was strapped to his thin shoulders. His shirt was streaked with dirt and his pants had small holes at the knees.

Another poor lost child on the street.

"Are you alright?" he asked again, gently.

"Merci, jeune homme," the boy said, with a taste of an accent. He bowed his head politely. Gaspard started with surprise at the 'young man' comment.

"That was very brave of you. I would have been dead if you hadn't saved me."

"I just did what anyone else would have done," Gaspard said with a smile and bashfully rubbed the back of his blond hair. "You try to stay out of trouble, okay?"

A sudden thought crossed the young man's features and he grinned. "Oh, wait! Come here!" He stood and gently touched the boy's shoulder, guiding him back to his momentarily forgotten cart. Crossing the street, Gaspard's hand left the boy to open the top. He fished out an éclair and held it out to him. The boy took the treat and stared at him with a look of incredulous surprise. His thin eyes slipped from Gaspard's smile to the tasty éclair in his little fingers.

"I don't have any money."

Gaspard laughed good-naturedly. "You don't pay for a gift. Are you headed to the Exposition?"

The boy nodded shyly, his head ducking sweetly.

"You can walk with me if you want," Gaspard offered. "I'll make sure no more horses get you."

"I-I have to go…" the boy mumbled before turning to run off down the street. Gaspard blinked, watching him disappear in the crowd, before shrugging and picking up the handles of his cart once more.

"You almost killed us!" The kwami hissed angrily once Fu had swiveled down an abandoned alleyway. "A rampaging horse! Are you insane?"

"He's perfect!" Fu grinned, taking a huge bite out of the delicious éclair and spoke with a mouth full. "I told you he would pass my test!"

"But who is he perfect for? The Ladybug or The Cat?" The turtle asked before he scowled again. "I can't believe you just stood there! It took everything for me to not come out and save you myself! I may give you longevity, but you can still be physically killed, Fu!"

"Are you done with the lecture, Wayzz?" Fu sighed. "Be excited! We found one!"

"Yes, I'll admit he's a good choice. But what about-"

"The yin to his yang?" Fu interrupted with a thoughtful look. His young eyes slipped to the bustling crowd outside his alleyway. "I'll have to keep looking. They are out there somewhere. Guess we are going to the Exposition."

The kwami groaned. "You're not going to try and kill us again, are you? Jump off the tower? Drown in the Seine?"

"Hmm… not a bad thought, mon amie," Fu chuckled before tucking the kwami back into his satchel.

Solene felt Claudette's arm wrap around her own and she sighed. Escorted by several officials to the higher-class area, she had passed underneath the tower and was standing in the lovely gardens of the Champ de Mars. Walking to a table with goblets of water, fruit punch, and champagne, she took a water and forced herself to daintily sip the drink. Red parasol shielding the wonderful sun from her face, she glanced at the long crowd that surrounded their private party. Her blue eyes slipped to the vendors, the passing men and women happily playing the available games, the children running back and forth with laughter. She sighed again as Claudette's continual rant ended on a questioning note and she knew she needed to respond with something again.

"How dull."

"This is what I like about you, Solene! You think everything is beneath you!" Claudette chirped.

That comment made her stomach curl with irritation. Despite Claudette's gushing compliments, Solene could taste the faux behind it.

Oh, what she wouldn't give for a companion with a sense of imagination! Someone who she could dream with and would actually talk about something interesting for once. Or they could say nothing at all. Silence would be nice, too.

Unfortunately...

"When are we going to go up the tower already?" Claudette complained. "The sooner we climb these stairs and break our backs, the sooner we can head back and I can take a long hot bath. All this work was for nothing, Solene! The Abelin's aren't even here! Bernard won't even see my new dress! You have totally called it! This Exposition is dull!"

It wasn't dull on the other side of this party. The streets looked fun...

Closing her eyes and gathering her courage, Solene gently unwrapped her arm from Claudette's and kept her voice polite and cordial - through clenched teeth. "I need to speak to someone about something important. I'll be gone for just a moment. Wait here for me, Claudette."

"Hey, wait-"

But the raven-haired girl was already hurrying away in her full skirts, trying to pretend she was running with dignity to a certain destination. Dress swishing around her feet, locks of her dark hair escaped Marjoline's lovely twists. The wind seemed to brush her forward, pushing her towards a new unknown.

She passed several officials who quirked their eyebrows up at her peculiar behavior, but she ignored their powdered wigs, champagne flutes, and haughty eyes. Instead, she crossed over the grassy line that separated her and everyone else. Breathless and looking at the miraculous crowd of her city, she finally felt the fullness of the Exposition.

She raised her parasol.

And smiled.

The Tower was magnifique!

Gaspard's green eyes lit up at the number of Parisians that had come for the Exposition.

Lifting the cart's lid and letting the natural scent of baked goods draw a crowd, he had already sold quite a bit before a splash of red suddenly caught his eye.

Holding out a package of macarons, his hand froze, his lips fell open, and he felt as if a thunderbolt had struck inside his head. Dark hair wrapped in elegant twists, ocean blue eyes slipping over the busy crowd, the girl looked around as if she was an angel visiting earth for the first time. A parasol of crimson lace rose over her delicate head and, as a smile lifted on her mouth, his heart rushed in his ears. Feeling a sickly twist in his stomach, the customer yank on the box in his hand and he let go with a blink of surprise. With tongue dry, his gaze slipped back to the red vision and he almost cried out as she turned to head towards the tower.

He still had several customers waiting, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Please excuse me for one moment," he said with a croak. "I will be back shortly."

Closing the top of the crate, he stepped away from the cart and hurried after her. His footsteps followed her path, trying to close in the gap between them. His green eyes were glued to that vibrant red.

Suddenly, she stopped and, as if by magic, she turned her head to catch his gaze. Blue rocked into green and his feet caught on the cobblestone. He stumbled clumsily forward and barely caught himself before colliding into her. Straightening up, he blushed as she looked up at him curiously.

"Bonjour," he said lamely.

"Salut." Her voice was lovely. Soft and dignified. Her confusion was palpable on her beautiful face.

Gaspard's hand shyly rubbed the back of his neck. His face felt hot. Embarrassment and something warm fluttered inside his rib-cage. She was looking at him wonderingly with those startling sapphire eyes. Her skin was clear and pale. Like a snowflake. Gaspard forced his gaze to go no lower than her neck, but he could see the defining line of cleavage from his viewpoint. She was unambiguously beautiful, like one of those flawless porcelain dolls at the store a block down from the bakery. Gazing up at him from thick eyelashes, she was obviously waiting for him to say something.

"I wa-was wondering if you wanted to éclair a try, I mean, try an éclair. I-I'm a baker, you see, and I'm selling them."

"Oh." Her simple reply rang like Notre Dame bells inside his ears. "I didn't bring any money with me."

"That's fine! Perfectly fine! I'll let you try one for free! Consider it a gift! You pay for gifts! I mean, you don't pay for gifts!" Gaspard gasped out. "I'm trying to sell them, but you can have one for free! Oh, wait, I already said that, didn't I?"

Washing in his mortification, he was surprised when she lifted a small hand and giggled into her delicate fingertips. Blue eyes gleaming with humor, she smiled brightly and nodded.

"I'd love to try one."

"You would!? I mean, of course, my cart's over here." He pointed over his shoulder and he watched her eyes slip from him to the grassy park. A touch of worry flashed across her pretty face and he turned to glance back. That was where all the aristocracy were having their party.

Where she'd come out of.

"Are they looking for you?" He asked and she blinked back up at him.

"Probably, but I would rather have an éclair." The worry left and was replaced by a heart-stopping smile.

"Absolutely, right this way!" Gaspard grinned happily, motioning her to go ahead of him. Guiding her to his cart, he was disappointed to see the line had grown in his absence. He wondered how he'd be able to give her a free one without angering the rest of his customers.

"Your pastries seem to be quite popular," she commented, her fingers spinning her parasol. "These éclairs must be wonderful."

"They better be. It's my recipe." It wasn't boasting if it was the truth, right? Despite that, his chest puffed as she turned to him in surprise.

"Your recipe? And you have this many customers?" To his delight, she looked very impressed.

"My family owns the Boulangerie Patisserie. I learned from the best there ever was."

The sun hit her lovely eyes so they sparkled and he found himself grinning foolishly into them.

She was so beautiful.

"Baker Boy! There you are! I've been waiting!" An older woman snapped and he blinked in surprise. Beside him, the beautiful girl gigged.

"Your customers await." She smiled brightly, and to his sharp disappointment, she turned to head back to the Tower. "I'll take a rain check on that éclair."

"You promise?" He found himself saying, catching her wrist in his hand. Her breath caught and her eyes flipped from his gentle grasp back to his eyes. Realizing he was touching her, Gaspard let her go as if struck by the lightning. She dropped into a small curtsy, her bluebell eyes lowering like a true lady.

"Of course, Baker Boy," she promised with a bit of a sassy grin growing on her lips. "Boulangerie Patisserie, right?"

"Y-yes," Gaspard stammered and his green eyes couldn't help following her as she left him.

"Look back," he whispered under his breath, waiting and watching. "Look back at me…"

His heart caught in his chest as, before she could disappear completely, she turned back to give him a small wave with her fingers. He waved back like a love-struck fool and the smile on his face was too happy for a simple baker with a long line waiting to buy his pastries.

No, this was something different. Something special.

Also, he was suddenly very grateful he'd changed out of his flour-stained pants.

Light brown eyes watched with interest as the young lady in red walked away from Gaspard, her blue eyes flicking over the tower. There was something unusual about her. Dressed in the fancy getup of high society, there was a spark about her that Fu instantly liked.

And, if she caught the eye of that nice baker, there was something more to her than meets the eye.

He sensed the same kindness, the same gentle compassion that enveloped the boy.

Wayzz glanced at Fu's grin and sighed.

"So, how are we going to test her?" he asked without bothering to ask who.

Fu snorted a laugh. "You know me too well, Wayzz."

"I'd like to think I do and yet you seem to surprise me at every turn."

Fu pressed a finger to his lips in contemplation before a dangerous gleam appeared in his eye.

"Fu?" Wayzz's worried voice broke as a small chuckle escaped the young boy.

"Why are you laughing?"

I'd posted this on my old account, but got some ideas on how to continue it - sooo yeah, taken down, edited, and it now sports plotline that will match with the show (at least until they give more background story and completely make my plans obsolete). -_-