A/N: I've been writing for quite a long, long time, but it's only just recently that I've returned to the world of fanfiction. Certain life circumstances have beaten my writing mojo into the ground, so I'm starting somewhere with a little bit more leeway and less need to dump all my creativity into a single vat of consumerism. So, here is my latest project: The Tales of Farfalla, evidently inspired by the wondrous show created and directed by Thomas Astruc, and produced by Zagtoon.

As per usual, this piece is a work of non-canon fiction. I claim no ownership of any characters, ideas, or concepts, aside from those I introduce of my own imagination. Similarities are also coincidental, be they from real life, or other fanfictions of this kind.

Please rate/review, and if you like the story, feel free to favorite/follow it. Constructive criticism will be taken into major consideration; nonconstructive and vitriolic comments/criticism will be flagged, reported, and likely deleted. Thanks!

Full Summary

Papillion's latest Akumatized victims have become far craftier for the combined wits of Ladybug and Chat Noir. And, to make matters worse, Akumatized victims have doubled from the original one – leaving Ladybug and Chat Noir spreading themselves thin to stop both Akumatized victims from wreaking havoc on Paris. Will the two be capable of triumphing over Papillion's latest power boost? Or will they need a new Miraculous Superhero to abet them in their endeavor?

Giulietta Bisset isn't particularly special – her home life is average, to an extent. She had always dreamed of visiting her father's home-land, the eponymous Paris, city of lights. Her father had always spun tales of Paris' beauty – and what attracted her the most were those tales of radiant flora which glistered with dew-drop effervesence. However, stipulations had to be outlined, and she had to live with a stranger of a grandmother she never truly got to know, as well as attend a French school, at that. Her French is somewhat poor – but she can hold a conversation. Luckily, she learns quickly!

But those are the least of her problems, for she will have more than a new life-style to adapt to – but a whole new identity, at that.

Prologue

Within the pitch-black dome of darkness, scintillating butterflies rose as the spiral panel revealed the idyllic sight of the capitol of France, Paris. Within resided a gussied up man with a platinum colored mask, smiling devilishly as his harsh blue eyes leered at the sight with excitement mixed with anger. His leather clad fist squeezed into a ball, quaking with furor and ferocity. His other hand gripped his cane, which he slammed onto the metal masonry below him. With furrowed brows, he gritted his teeth.

"Ladybug and Chat Noir – soon, I shall have your Miraculouses, for I have a plan which will certainly overwhelm the two of you," He warned, ominously. "It is time for me to cease testing the waters. No longer will I give any semblance of leeway. Now that I have studied you both accordingly, it will be time for me to unleash my true power upon the city of Paris!" He cried out dramatically, raising his arms, and subsequently his cane. Each butterfly around him dithered and darted about obliquely, their flitting wings calling out – like screams.

The room in which Papillion resided within soon went blank with the same darkness it harbored, the spiral panes closing shut and the butterflies placing themselves to rest. It was very much evident that Papillion had something terrifying in store for Paris' favorite heroes. The question, however, is if Ladybug and Chat Noir will be capable of handling this new threat with the same dedication and determination they've showcased so far? Or will Papillion's wrath truly be known, effectively tossing Paris' angels asunder?

Chapter One: What's A Miraculous?

The roaring engines of airplanes cast great anxiety within Giulietta – which made her clutch her heart with even deeper uncertainty than she had when she was on it. It was cantankerous, and truly cemented within her that her introversion sometimes went a bit too far. But, plenty was said about her for not crumpling to the floor in panic. After all, she was currently alone in Paris' international airport, holding onto the handle of her carry-on bag and gripping tight to another bag she had slung over her shoulder. Each passerby seemed to be busy doing their own thing, and eventually all singular conversations amalgamated into one, white noise pervading her ears and making the scene before her all that much intoxicating.

Luckily, she wasn't going to pass out any time soon. Any trepidation she harbored was quickly assailed by the fact that she came here for a reason – and that was to grow, to become something more than the wreck of nerves she tended to be. Perhaps if she had medicine prescribed to her, she would have a better time handling her emotions, but her parents refuted the facts about medicine – almost as if they knew that they would come to damage her in the future.

Each step was taken deliberately, making her way through crowds of regularly important business people and tourists. She would mutter 'pardon me' and 'excuse me' both in French and English whenever she shrugged past another, hoping that she didn't jostle them to the point of anger. She wouldn't know how to handle anyone she doesn't know screeching at her at the top of their lungs – it would be mortifying, that much is true. Giulietta was lucky that her anxiety wasn't incredibly severe – but it could get bad, and very quickly.

The airport's architecture was certainly something, and everything was virtually straight-forward. Her verbalizing and understanding of French was a bit wonky, but when it came to reading it, she immediately understood as if she were reading English or Italian – and this helped her immensely in navigating through the winding mess that an airport could be. With a small smile gracing her rose-tinged, yet somewhat pallid, complexion, she continued to travel to where her grandmother would be. She'd seen pictures of the woman, and spoken to her various times, but she never truly met her – the woman was an enigma, this much was certain.

It took about ten minutes for Giulietta to appear from the sea of people – of which she was apart of. Her deep chestnut eyes explored the surroundings, and noted various kinds of people living their own lives – minding their own business. Her brows furrowed, concerned. What if she doesn't discover her grandmother soon? What if she gets stuck in the airport, never able to return to Italy?

"Ah! Giulietta!" She heard an elderly voice call out, in French, of all that – though her name and the call wasn't too indistinguishable from Italian or English.

Her eyes darted about for a few seconds before they homed in on the elderly visage of a woman which looked far too much like her father – yet more feminine, and more ashen. Her brows bobbed and a small smile erupted on her veneer as she half-walked, half-ran towards her estranged grandmother. She didn't jump into her arms, nor did she hug her or give her a kiss. The elderly woman also didn't dare to do the same. They may have been family, but they truly didn't know each other – not just yet.

"It is so great to see you, Giulietta," Cadence Bisset spoke, in a heavy and thick French accent which took Giulietta a half-second to decipher, before responding back.

"It is great to see you as well, grandmother," Another smile, cordial and pleasant.

"Come now, dear – it is time for you to meet your new home! You will certainly love my garden – your father has spoken to me wonders about your love for flowers. You are much more like me than you may believe," She guffawed, before placing her arm over Giulietta's shoulder – and the young lady allowed her to. It was indeed something that Giulietta held a passion for – gardening, the themes and meanings of flowers. She felt a certain zen and peace whenever she focused on such activities – a connection.

Grandmother Bisset led her granddaughter to her car, to which the two soon entered and were on their way to discover Paris – at least in Giulietta's eyes. Pictures were one thing, but nothing was comparable to the true, physical experience. Giulietta's eyes were completely glued to each passing scenery. There were so much greenery that she wondered if there were dedicated, day-to-day gardeners employed in Paris. It was such a mysterious city. . . So much so that it even harbored its own pair of superheroes, which Giulietta found deeply difficult to believe. But, when she saw them on the news, she understood. At first, it was heavily incredulous, but perhaps it was one thing to look forward to meeting these valiant champions.

If she dared to, at least.

Caught in her own reverie, Giulietta didn't immediately hear her grandmother speaking about the new school she would attend, or about the strange occurrences in Paris as of late. Likewise, she didn't hear her grandmother gushing about Giulietta's deep maroon hair.

"It reminds me so much about my own mane when I was your age, dear," She continued, ruminating on her past beauty – which she still very much held, although not with the elasticity she once enjoyed. "I am so glad you get to enjoy it as well – those double braids truly do your hair justice as well," She pointed out, chuckling a little.

Giulietta only caught part of that as she turned her head to look at her grandmother, quirking a brow, but then acknowledging her compliment accordingly.

"Braids look wonderful on you as well, grandmother," She spoke, slowly and deliberately as she tried to fashion her Italian accent into that of a French speakers. Needless to say, it didn't work too well. She was far too used to speaking Italian and English with her parents and friends. Often times, French words and context escaped her – and she didn't even dare to think about the conjugations. It was a good thing she caught the language quickly, however – aside from her father speaking French with her her entire life, she grasped the grammar quickly.

Just speaking it was a perennial challenge she hoped to triumph over someday.

"Your French certainly needs some work, my dear – but not worries. The school I spoke to you of, College Francois Dupoint, is a wonderful school. You will certainly adapt to French much faster there," She assured, gracing her with a smile all too similar to her own, and to her father's. The two were definitely more alike in more ways than one.

It wasn't long before the Bisset women arrived at Cadence's small cottage, located in a much more rural location of Paris. It was a bit ways of, but perhaps it was worth the scenic travel to it. The cottage itself was oneiric and made Giulietta audibly call out in awe as she settled her eyes on the amazing carpentry before her. A gothic gate surrounded the premises, but the contrast between the gate and the alabaster cottage certainly would make any passerby take pictures of it. It was like a fairy-tale, with a manicured lawn adorned with all types of orchids, lilies, roses, sunflowers – each color coded, and set aside religiously by type.

The cottage itself was two stories high, embellished with ornate designs and a circular window which was perhaps owned by the attic. Every other window seemed to be curtained closed, the curtains evidently elegant and perhaps even satin. For a few seconds, Giulietta couldn't help but stare. Little by little, any regrets she harbored about coming to France was dissipating. Perhaps this was a great idea after all. And so far, her grandmother was a wonderful person – someone she could certainly relate to.

Definitely in more ways than one.

"Come now, dear – I'll get you settled in. Your room will be on the second floor!" The elder woman explained, taking Giulietta's luggage out of the trunk. Giulietta quickly assisted her grandmother with the hefty carry-ons. After all, it was her luggage, and she was responsible for them.

It wasn't long before Giulietta was settled in. Within the cottage, things weren't as unimpressive. It was still gorgeous, yet it was a typically decorated house when it came to an elderly woman. Elegant vases, wooden tables, and varicolored tapestries here and there. The kitchen wasn't anything special, nor was the bathroom – but what did catch Giulietta's senses was the eternal smell of lavender which permeated the household, and this soothed her immensely. She felt at home already, within the cozy cottage.

On the second floor, grandmother Bisset opened Giulietta's room for her, which was rather basic. A floral carpet covered much of the wooden floor, with a wooden bed covered with a mint-green, vine-designed comforter covering it. Her dresser seemed to be wooden as well, accessorized with a circular mirror and more than enough drawers to fit her things. She had a wooden armoire, and a window which allowed her to feast her eyes on the beauty which was her grandmother's garden. A garden, may she add, that she will certainly assist with in her free time.

"This is wonderful, grandmother, thank you," She gushed, clasping her hands together as she went within.

"I knew you would love it dear," She responded, a grandmotherly smile – tender and careful. "Now, make sure you settle in and do what you need to do. You start school tomorrow, and I am sure your father has spoken to you about my knack for making sure you arrive to such places punctually," She stated, emphatically. "Otherwise, feel free to explore. If you get lost, just call me – and make sure you don't return too late!" She advised, heading into the hallway and down the stairs, presumably the kitchen.

"Thank you, grandmother!" She called out, before shutting her door slowly and exhaling, looking at her room once more. Her own room, she supposed. . . She hadn't had one in a while. She shared a room with her mother back in Italy. The two women were always living on the essentials – for the most part, at least. She was elated, yet her nerves began to act up again.

School tomorrow. . .

"What if I make a mistake? Or what if they don't like me? Or what if I say something dumb? Or what if. . ." And she continued to reel and rail herself about the possibilities of causing a huge blunder, speaking to no one in particularly but herself. Perhaps she should've been speaking in French to practice, but instead she rolled along in Italian, and her paranoid episode eventually led her to lay flat on her new bed, another exhalation resetting her thoughts.

"Maybe I should just head outside. . . And explore, and . . ." Soon, her words were drowned out by her own drowsiness – but she didn't fall asleep yet, not quite.

"You don't have to worry! You'll do great!" Came a squeaky voice, which quickly energized Giulietta. She rose, swiveling her head around rapidly.

"Who said that!?" She called out.

"I did, silly!" The voice came once more, this time giggling a fit. Giulietta's furrowed her brows once more, in concern and anger, before settling her gaze on the small, violet bobble-headed creature before her. The creature looked to Giulietta with glittering, tyrian purple eyes – and an incandescent smile. It flitted and rose to level itself with her gaze, and Giulietta pursed her lips.

". . . Who are you. . .?" She questioned, tentatively.

"I'm Naaru! A Kwami! And you've been chosen to be a Miraculous holder!" She exclaimed, quickly darting towards a small, hexagonal box and placing it on Giulietta's lap. Within was a black bracelet, with a butterfly-shaped charm stolidly fitted to it. Giulietta, despite how non-plussed she was, grasped the piece of jewelry cautiously and stared at it.

"I. . ." She paused, then inhaled. "What's a Miraculous? And. . . What's a Kwami? Uhm. . ." Her thought-process trailed off from there. She had so many questions, but for some reason this situation wasn't as disconcerting as it should be. She wasn't sure what to feel, though. Perhaps she did fall asleep and was just dreaming – and if she was, then this was certainly a strange dream.

"A Miraculous is the bracelet you have in your hand! It'll help you transform into a super-awesome, punch-packing superhero! Like. . .! Like, uhm-! Like Ladybug and Chat Noir!" She explained, nodding proudly and placing her chubby nubs to her hips. "And I'm a Kwami! I make you into the superhero!"

"Uh . . . Like. . . Ladybug and Chat Noir? Superhero? But. . . I'm not. . ." She wasn't anything special. She didn't harbor the same capabilities as Ladybug and Chat Noir. The amazing and death-defying feats they posed on a nearly daily basis was something that she knew she could never challenge. . . Was this truly real?

". . . This is going to make things so much harder," She whined, diverting her gaze from Naaru and looking to the ebony bracelet once more.

"It'll be okay, Giuli!" The Kwami spoke, flitting into Giulietta's personal space. "You'll do great! You don't have to worry. I'm sure Ladybug and Chat Noir will totally help you out! And uhm, they're going to need you really soon, too! Because, uh, bad things are going to happen – I can feel it!" Her encouraging words soon devolved into those of warning, yet still keeping true to her excitable nature – as if whatever catastrophe was imminent wasn't completely a big deal.

The fact that this was happening to Giulietta was enough of a big deal for her, though – and she wasn't sure how she could ever fully assess the situation before her.

A Miraculous? A Kwami? Super heroism and super powers? Working with the eponymous Ladybug and Chat Noir, protectors of Paris from the Akuma attacks?

Just how was she going to manage all these changes?