ORIGINS PART 4

It was before dawn when Gaspard awoke. His body was used to waking early - a baker's natural clock. His father was already awake judging by the smell of baking bread wafting up.

He threw the covers back and heard an unexpected, "Ahh!"

Jumping at the small cry, Gaspard froze. Glancing over at the coverlet, he saw a tiny, black head with a large frown appear from under the thin quilt.

"What was that for!?"

"You're still here!" he said stupidly, watching the black cat roll his green eyes with irritation before coming to float in front of his face.

"Of course, I'm still here. I thought we established this last night. My question is why are we up before dawn?!"

"I have to help run the bakery. Papa has a cake to deliver and I need to take care of the shop until he gets back."

"What about my cheese?" the kwami moaned. "You need to figure out a way to get it for me."

"There's a fromagerie several blocks down around the back," Gaspard said thoughtfully before he frowned. "Now I think about it, my problem won't be finding the cheese, but buying it. All the money we make goes to running the bakery. I don't have any to spend on other things."

"Ask for a wage or something!"

Gaspard scowled. "I couldn't do that to Papa!"

"You have to get the money somehow! Say that you need it to buy a gift to impress a girl!"

"Impress a- wait, what?" Gaspard stumbled with the notion. "He'll see right through that! I've never… shown interest… in a…"

He couldn't finish the statement as the vision of black shining hair, crystal blue eyes, and a flowing crimson dress tossed over his mind. Okay, so he had, but she didn't count. He didn't even know her name! He knew he'd never see her again anyway! So, technically, he hadn't shown interest in anyone.

Even though he had…

Ugh, whatever, she just didn't count!

"Just make it up! Tell your father you're considering wooing a dame or whatever else men do these days. It's important to get me cheese!"

"I know, I know, I get it!" Gaspard said exasperated. "I'll see what I can do."

Standing up, he realized he never changed into his pajamas and sighed. Straightening his suspenders back on his shoulders, he brushed out his wrinkled pants and tucked his loose shirt back into his waistline. Spying his apron on the floor, he walked over to pick it up.

"I guess I'll just hang up here starving…" Plagg sighed dramatically, flopping on the messy bed.

"I told you I'll figure out how to get you cheese, okay?"

"I already told you how to get it! Tell your father that-"

"I can't tell my father a lie. I refuse, Plagg."

Gaspard tied the apron on and ran his fingers through his messy hair.

What had he gotten himself into?


"You want to come with me to lessons?" Solene asked Tikki as she unbraided her hair. "I have to keep you with me encase I have to transform, right? Oh, I can't wait to transform! What kind of disguise will I have? Can I change the outfit to whatever I want?"

Tikki giggled from Solene's shoulder. "It's magic. It'll conform to whatever it thinks is best for you."

"I hope I get a sword! Something swashbuckling!"

"Swash...?" The little kwami looked confused before her large eyes grew wider. "Oh, dear, someone's coming! I'll hide in the drawer!"

"Wait! It isn't-" Tikki slipped into the drawer, phasing through the wood and handle, "-open…"

The raven-haired girl stared where her kwami had disappeared before she shook her head in awe.

"Solene! Are you up?" The older voice pricked from the doorway and she heard the hard rapping of knuckles.

"Yes, Marjoline, I'm up," she called, picking up her brush to comb her hair. "I've got to get dressed. I'll be down for breakfast in a bit-"

"Actually, you've got a guest waiting for you downstairs!"

"What?" Solene hurried off the cushion to open the door. Marjoline's brown eyes were shining as the morning window light hit the old maid's face. Solene had seen this expression before.

"Oh, no..." She groaned and her excitement she'd felt before instantly deflated.

"Albert Pernell is waiting for you in the front parlor. He arrived early this morning." Marjoline burst into the room and grabbed Solene's arm in passing. "He'll be expecting you. We've got to get you in that light blue! Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

"Why is Albert here?" Solene yelped as her maid rushed her back to her vanity. "I thought he was out of the country on holiday! The far east or something! Very far away from here! And I have lessons, remember?"

"Your English can wait. He must have arrived back a few days ago. Now is your chance!"

"Chance!?" The raven beauty watched in horror as the maid laid out the blue gown and spread the undergarments over the bed. "No, no, no! Marjoline, don't start with this again! He's thirty years older than me! He stares at me! He's creepy!"

"And rich! And would be able to give you a life even better than what you have here! And he obviously cares for you to be coming all this way this early in the morning."

"One would call it a rudeness to arrive so early without invitation…" Solene scowled. The elder maid shot her an exasperated look, motioning her over so she could dress her. "I mean, does he have nothing better to do than come here?"

"Apparently not, so that means you don't have anything better to do either. You'll take breakfast together with your father in the dining hall. You better be on your best behavior. You keep that short temper in check, young lady. Show gratitude for him coming all this way to call on you."

The undergarments buckled and the pins snapped. The corset tightened. The blue gown tossed over her head. She groaned as her hair - once a messy, lumpy tangle - was suddenly smoothed and braided beautifully over her shoulder. A tiny flower barrette was tucked into her raven locks. She saw Marjoline frown at the budded earrings, but she never mentioned them. Instead, she grabbed a silver necklace with a light blue teardrop stone and strapped it around her neck.

The entire process took less than ten minutes. Truly, Marjoline was a master at perfection when motivated.

"You'll make a lovely impression after all this time. He'll think you're an angel! Now get down there!" Marjoline held the door for Solene, but the girl's blue eyes danced hesitantly to the vanity drawer.

"What are you waiting for?"

She sighed in surrender and swished out the bedroom with her corset stomach souring.

Sorry, Tikki…


"Ah, there you are, mon fils!" His father's boisterous voice greeted as Gaspard appeared in the back room. "I've just finished filling the éclairs. Mind taking over?"

"Sure, Papa," he said, his voice flatter than normal.

Dark eyes narrowing worriedly, he watched as his son walked over to the pastries, his steps a little less cheerful. He was in the same clothes as yesterday. His blond hair was a mess and his usual sharp green eyes were dulled. Turning to busy himself with stocking the freshly baked baguettes, Marcus went to the front of the store.

What could have possibly have changed his son's demeanor so drastically from the night before? He had seemed perfectly fine - actually happier than usual - when he'd gotten back from the Expo. The lace design he'd drawn for the cake was a beautiful piece of artwork. The bakery had made a ton of money from his éclairs. Everything seemed to be going just fine.

Gaspard entered from the back with the tray of new éclairs. Setting them on the counter to open the display case, his son's green eyes were locked with deep thoughts. The baker felt a twinge of sadness. The last time that look was in Gaspard's eyes was the funeral. Something must have happened to him. Bad dream?

"Is everything alright, my boy?" Marcus asked, turning his back to his son and focusing on straightening the baguettes. He could feel the tension like an invisible wall.

Gaspard cleared his throat. "Yes, Papa. I didn't sleep well last night."

"There is time to go splash some water on your face if you need to wake up a little more."

"It's alright."

Watching his son's slumped shoulders, a strange thought came over Marcus. A flicker of a memory crossed over: a blonde beauty sitting beside him at the school house. A sour feeling swirling inside his stomach. Happiness and melancholy flashing back and forth in his moods at just the thought of her…

Could it be?

"Gaspard," Marcus started, turning to his son and those shaded green eyes slipped to his curiously.

How to word this right?...

"Are you… have you…?" Oh, why was it so difficult to talk about something like this? Never had Marcus needed Eliza more than this moment. She was always so much better at speaking than he was. Especially when it came to feelings.

"Have you met... someone?" he finally asked, trying to keep the cringe out of his voice.

His son's eyes grew as wide as bagels and his mouth fell open. "What?"

"You seem… out of sorts this morning - and I don't think it's because you're tired." Marcus swallowed in his tightening throat. "I… I acted the same way when I was around your age. It started when I first met your mother. I was so happy when I was around her and-and when she left the room, I felt sad. You were very happy yesterday evening and this morning…"

Gaspard's jaw had yet to close. He stood there gaping until a knock on the door surprised both Dupains. It was Sara, the flower girl that sold wildflowers outside their bakery. Marcus watched Gaspard's eyes flick to the girl outside the window and his mouth closed with an audible snap. She'd been a longtime friend of his son's for a quite a number of years. She'd recently grown into her sharp red hair and large brown eyes. She was a beauty with a sweet countenance. Dupain's gaze switched from his son to Sara.

Could it be...?

Gaspard slipped around the corner to unlock the door. He opened it and Sara smiled up at him.

"We aren't open yet, Sara," he said softly.

"Oh-Oh, I know!" she stammered with a cute blush. "I-I just thought… you'd like a flower t-to decorate your bakery."

"Ah, I see." The young man's lips curled up for the first time that morning. "That's kind of you. Papa?"

"I'll get the money for you, Sara," Dupain announced with a wave.

"No, no, please! I wanted to give it to you!" she rushed, digging in the large woven basket in her arms for a large red chrysanthemum. Holding the flower to Gaspard, her blush grew. "Like a present."

"That's very thoughtful, Sara, but we insist on paying for it." Gaspard took the flower and turned to Marcus.

However, something stopped Marcus from getting the money. Something in the way Sara's doe eyes flicked up and down his son's turned back. Something in the way her toe scrapped the doorstep shyly and her hands fiddled with the handle of her basket. There were many girls who held torches for his son - the young women who flocked the bakery every day proved that point. But there wasn't many who knew him personally. Who were actually friends with him. Sara was different. She was almost family.

What if she could be… more for Gaspard?

"You know what, Sara. We appreciate the flower. Merci." Marcus nodded. "We'll pay you next time."

Her expression grew from shy to elated happiness within an instant. Gaspard, however, quirked an eyebrow.

"Are you sure, Papa?"

"She wanted to give you a present this morning, son. I think it is very generous of her."

Glancing down at the flower in his hand, the chrysanthemum's petals draping beautifully, the young man sighed and turned back to Sara with a smile. "Well, then, thank you, Sara. We'll make sure to put this on our display case this morning. It will definitely lighten up the pastries."

"Oh, yes, the display case! It-It would be perfect there," she replied with a flash of disappointment crossing her features. "Good luck with the bakery today, Gaspard."

"Good luck to you as well," he returned with a shadow of his smile back on his face. Shutting the door, he held the flower for a moment and Dupain could have sworn his son's pupils dilated slightly at the sight of it. With a sharp exhale, he hurried to the backroom to fill a cup of water for the flower.

Coming into the front and setting the flower on the delicacies case, he cleared his throat and Marcus looked to his son curiously. His pale cheeks were tinged pink and his face was spilling with nerves.

"I… I have a favor to ask, father…"

Eyebrows raising at the formal 'father', Dupain leaned on the counter and nodded.

"I was… was wondering if I could… borrow some of the money I made from the éclairs. Not a lot!" He added quickly. "Just a small bit. And if I could stop somewhere before you leave to drop off the cake."

Not even bothering to hide the grin from his face, Marcus marched to the side and reached for the key at his belt to unlock the money drawer. Fishing out several coins, Gaspard gasped when he saw the amount.

"No, that's too much-"

"Au contraire, I feel as if this isn't enough, my son." Dupain smiled, handing him the money. "I wish I could give you more. I would not be able to run this place without you. If you ever need anything, please just let me know. We are a team. And as team members, we have to support each other."

Stepping up and placing a hand on Gaspard's shoulder, he smile grew proud.

"Good luck, son. She's grown into such a cute girl."

The utterly lost look on Gaspard's face almost made Dupain laugh.

The poor boy doesn't even realize his own feelings, he mused with an inward chuckle. I better help him out.

"Get her something nice." He nodded without waiting for a reply. "Maybe from a Bijouterie."

"A jewelry store…?" His son whispered under his breath, glancing at the money in his hand. The subject dropped on that awkward note and both males gratefully went back to their morning routine - Gaspard a little more flustered and confused at the turn of events.

They missed the red-haired figure peeking through the window, her brown eyes wide with excitement.


The fine china had been set, the curtains rolled back to let the morning sun in from the tall windows, and the summer table-liner was spread with all kinds of lovely breakfast foods. Picking at her fluffy eggs and ham, Solene stared at her fork determinedly as Albert's grey eyes continued to slip to her face from across the table. The conversation stifled and the atmosphere was so tense it was hard to breathe.

Her father, sitting at the head of the table, gave a small huff and motioned to Albert.

"How are the vineyards doing with this weather? It has been unusually warm as of late."

Albert, his eyes still not leaving Solene, picked up his water glass and took a quick sip before answering, "We are expecting the warm weather to help with the fermentation of last year's crop. With this kind of heat… things should be ripe well before schedule…"

Solene wondered if she was reading too much into that comment or if that was an innuendo directed to her - and realized, regardless if it was or wasn't, it still made chill bumps of disgust rise on her arms. Appetite completely lost, she set her silverware on the plate. She could feel both men staring at her now - each with completely different aura.

Unwanted lust verses terrifying disapproval.

Which eye to look at?

Her father's eyebrows were crunched on his forehead. His powdered wig immaculately groomed, his pale face painted white, he gave her a snipping look - glancing at Albert, herself, and back to Albert with non-verbal language so clear, she'd have to be blind to not understand it.

Speak to him. NOW.

"Thank you for coming to visit, Monsieur Pernell," she said with no emotion.

"If I had known you'd grown into such a vision, Mademoiselle Montilyet, I would have come home much sooner," Albert said, spearing a tomato with his fork and slipping it into his lips. Chewing, he continued, "I am planning a gala at my estate next month to showcase what I've discovered in my travels. I am hoping you will join me as my honored guest. All manner of high society will be present."

"Of course, Albert. She would be delighted," her father answered for her. "And speaking of showcasing, have you happened a chance to see our new Eiffel Tower?"

"I have not had that luxury, unfortunately. We came in from ship to the west. However, if I would be highly motivated if I could escort your lovely daughter-"

"I've already seen it!" Solene said quickly and the condemnation from her father swam thick and hard through the room. With a blush and heat rising up her neck, she turned to Albert bravely. "We visited it yesterday for the beginning of the Exposition Universelle. It was very exciting and-"

"Yes, yes, that is quite enough, Solene," her father interrupted sharply. "Please don't take her comments to heart, Monsieur Pernell. If you wish to see the Tower with her - she would be happy to go with you."

"I look forward to it." Albert nodded kindly, but the glint in his eyes made them look almost silver.

She forced the shudder away and stared at her eggs. Wishing she could just crawl out of the room and go back upstairs to Tikki, she spied the sweet muffins and remembered something. Lifting a finger, a maid came close and she motioned to whisper in her ear.

"Can you get me some cookies wrapped in a napkin and leave them on my vanity? I might be hungry later."

The maid blinked and nodded before heading out of the dining hall.

There was a lull in the conversation - scratch that - more like a gaping chasm of silence before Albert turned to her father, his long fingers unlacing from where they'd rested on the table near his plate.

"There is a matter I wish to discuss with you. If you would be so kind as to-"

A manservant opened the door and immediately bowed. "I apologize for disturbing you. There is a telephone call for Monsieur Pernell."

"Ah, I see you have upgraded to the new technology as well, Montilyet," Albert commented with an impressed quirk of his lip. "Please, excuse me. I'll be right back."

Albert left the dining hall - shooting Solene a look akin to hunger over his shoulder. Her back hit the chair with an overwhelming schlump of relief and another wash of disgust shivered down her spine. It was a sad day when she actually wished to be upstairs with her studies. She'd be bored out of her mind with histories, but at least she wouldn't be picked apart by lustful eyes and disapproving glares.

Picking up her fork to push around more breakfast, she heard her father give a low sigh.

"It is a honor he came to see us this morning, Solene. We are the first he has called upon since his return from the exotics. We should take this visit as a testimony of his regard for you."

She couldn't stop the curl of revulsion on her lips.

"Why must he call on me? Claudette would have been overjoyed to receive him."

"Straighten up and stop this at once," her father growled lowly under his breath. "You will go to the Eiffel Tower if he wishes it. You will hold his arm if he wishes it. You will attend the gala and you will smile, laugh, and charm because I wish it - do you understand?"

"Your doll is at your command," she murmured darkly at her plate.

If he heard her, he refused to acknowledge the comment - instead, choosing to take a sip of his tea.

It was a few tense minutes before the door hurriedly opened. Both Solene and her father jumped as Albert stormed into the room.

"I apologize for the brisk departure, but I have urgent business to attend-"

"Is everything alright, Albert?" Her father leaped from his chair with the concern of a proper host.

Meanwhile, Solene's heart soared with relief.

"There is a matter that needs my attention at once. I will part for today. Thank you for your hospitality."

Solene, remembering her manners and washed in elated joy, stood from her chair and gave Albert a swift curtsy followed by a dazzling smile.

"I hope you are safe going home, Monsieur Pernell."

He stopped mid-step - turning to her with a flicker of hot want in his eyes as they raked up and down her blue gown.

"I will be counting down the minutes until next we meet, Mademoiselle. I promise I will return again soon."

With that pledge on the horizon of Solene's future, he bowed low at the waist and departed.


The black kwami had laughed for a solid ten minutes when Gaspard had come back up to his room to show him the money and tell him how he got it.

"See? You didn't necessarily lie. Your father came to the wrong conclusion on his own!" The kwami had let out another chortle. "I can't believe it. This is too hilarious!"

"Yeah, glad you're having a good time with it," Gaspard had sighed, bracing his chin bitterly on his palm. Sitting on the unkempt bed next to Plagg, he had told the cat that he was planning on going to the fromagerie at around noon - once the morning rush had ended. Plagg had seemed to be unable to contain himself with glee at the prospect of all that cheese, so, nestled in the side pocket of Gaspard's apron, the little kwami was along for the ride.

Noon on the dot, his father waved him out the back door and Gaspard took the alley before turning to the left for the three block walk to the fromagerie.

"Cheese, cheese, gooey-oozy cheese…" A voice was chanting in his apron.

"Hush, Plagg. You can't talk if you are coming with me," he hissed at his pocket before nodding nervously at a passing couple who was glancing at him curiously. "You're making me look weird. I won't bring you next time if you can't behave yourself."

"Gaspard!"

He glanced over his shoulder at the call and a brilliant redhead was racing up to him.

"Sara," he greeted kindly. "What brings you here?"

"I… I had another flower… if you wanted one… just for yourself…" She was blushing, hesitant, and her hands were shaking so hard her basket quaked. "I wanted you to… to have one… not just for the bakery… but because… I gave it to you…"

He blinked, confused. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand what you're saying. You've already given me a flower. Do you want me to buy one this time?"

"No!" She cried out and blushed harder. "I wanted you to have one because… I-uh… I-"

"I am so sorry to interrupt, Sara, but I've really got to go," Gaspard said at Plagg's sharp kick on his thigh. "Can we talk later? I've got to get my shopping done and get back to the bakery before Papa leaves to drop off the cake for the Hambert's wedding this evening."

"O-Oh, right…" Her eyes fell from his face to the cobblestone at her feet. "I… I will leave you to it then."

"Au revoir, Sara!" Turning on foot, he hurried down the street, his green eyes slipping from shop to shop. The cheese store was a white-washed front with tiny buttresses lining the top of the small roof. Gaspard had always thought the shop was quite tacky with its fancy getup. Stepping into the store, he was confronted by cheeses of all shapes and sizes. Turning to a rack in the corner, he scooped Plagg out of his apron and tucked him into the collar of his shirt.

"Which one?" He hissed - green eyes slipping from exotic muensters to green-streaked roquefort.

"Not over here…" the kwami frowned.

The store owner, glancing at his stained baker's apron and messy hair, clicked his tongue prudishly, but allowed Gaspard to roam freely from shelf to shelf - Plagg whispering in his ear.

It was a full ten minutes before Plagg let out a loud gasp - and Gaspard quickly covered with a cough. The black kwami trembled so happily against his neck, Gaspard almost smiled.

He was pretty cute when he got excited.

"That one! That round one to the left! What is it?!"

Picking up a wheel of white cheese, the blond held it up. "Camembert?"

"Yes!" Plagg squeaked. "Yes, yes! That's it! You have to buy that one!"

"Excuse me, Monsieur," Gaspard called, holding up the wheel. "How much?"


Her heart was crushing against her ribs. Sinking to her knees in the small alleyway, she dropped the basket of flowers as the hot tears slipped down her cheeks. Sara pictured his face, his hair, his eyes, his smile - and anger swirled with her heartbreak. She had been his friend for so long. She'd always loved him.

Was it that he really didn't love her? That he didn't care about her at all?

Picking up a red chrysanthemum that was similar to the one she'd given him that morning, she plucked a petal from it.

"He loves me…"

"He loves me not…"

"He loves me…"

"He loves me not…"


Stepping out of the shop, Gaspard almost shouted as Plagg's head popped out of his collar.

"Get back in there! I said you can eat it when we get home!"

"But I want it now…" the kwami whined.

Rolling his eyes to the blue heavens, Gaspard hurriedly scooped the kwami out of his shirt and plopped him back into his apron. Opening the bag, he unwrapped one the numerous camembert wheels now in his possession, and broke the goopy cheese apart with his fingers.

Groaning, he stuck it in his pocket and whispered, "This stuff smells awful! Don't let it get on my apron."

"I'll make sure to lick it off if it does," Plagg sighed with his mouth already full. "This is heaven!"

Wrapping the wheel back up in the package, he started back down the street to the bakery.


He was powerful.

He was magical.

And the taste of a young woman's bitterness was like a precious cream brule on his tongue. He felt it, the sadness, the anger, the tight wish for revenge…

Now was the time to fish the guardian out of hiding.

Then the book would be his...

Grasping a white butterfly in the air, he enclosed it in his hands and impressed his will into the akuma.

"Draw out the guardian by any means necessary, akuma…" he whispered, letting the butterfly go and watching it slip out the top window.


"He loves me…"

"He loves me not…"

"He loves me…"

"He loves me… not…" The chrysanthemum was empty, its petals scattered all around her. No more petals. No more chances.

Holding the empty stem of the flower to her broken heart, she sank to her knees in the alleyway and wept.

The butterfly, a sickly black and purplish hue covering it, fluttered to her and landed on the stem.

"Flower Petal," a voice filtered in her head. Her brown eyes wide, her anger growing, she listened. "I am Violet Empereur. Your flower has been rejected by the one you love. If you cannot have your true love, why should anyone? They should all be flowers to be picked. They should all be flowers given to you."

"I… I…" The stem had grown, bloomed once more with large beautiful crimson petals. "I will have a bouquet worthy of a queen." She replied, with a grin growing on her lips.

Her red hair grew, falling to her waist beautifully. Her skin, always freckled and pale, darkened to a lovely forest green. Her old dress folded on her slim frame like the petals of a red rose. She was beautiful. She was strong.

And she was angry.

"Someone may come to stop you. I want you to do everything in your power capture them and bring them to me."

"Not to worry, Violet Empereur. I will present you with a beautiful bouquet of anyone who tries to stop me."


Tikki gasped, sitting up from the vanity as the door suddenly opened. Slipping into the drawer quickly, she watched from the keyhole as a maid walked in and set something wrapped in a napkin near the mirror. The maid left and Tikki sighed in relief before leaving her hiding spot. It smelled delicious, she decided to take a peek at the napkin and was delighted to find cookies!

Her heart warmed and her stomach grew as she devoured three of them. Reaching for a fourth, a tingling fear slipped into the little kwami. Her head flicking immediately to the window, she frowned with a hitch of understanding washing over her.

Nooroo…

He was awake.

He was being used.

There was an underlying sense of malice, of anger, from his magic - a twisted darkness she'd never felt before.

It was rare that a Miraculous was used with ill intent - especially since those that qualified to wield one usually had to meet the physical, psychological, and spiritual demands of the temple Guardians. Nooroo, his power more a support than a frontline, had never held such a bitter taste.

That could only mean the impossible had happened.

He had been stolen! That was why she had been given a Chosen!

She needed Solene!

Materializing through the glass, she quickly slipped from window to window, looking for her chosen. Rushing past the busy kitchen, the empty dining hall, and several bedrooms, she finally spotted her in a small seating area with a book of histories in her lap. She was blinking boredly, her eyes staring off in the distance. As Tikki zipped around the window to get her attention, Solene's head snapped up and her blue eyes widened. Tikki raced back to the bedroom hoping that was enough to get her chosen up here.

A few tense minutes later, Solene was flying through the bedroom door in a flurry of blue skirts and slamming it shut. Twisting the lock quickly, she raced to Tikki.

"What's happening? I thought you were supposed to be a secret!"

"I am, but something has happened! I need you to be Coccinelle!"

"Right now? Really?" Solene's surprise washed to excitement. "Not only am I going to avoid lessons, but I'll be transforming for the first time! Oh, this is so wonderful! I mean, my father is going to kill me if he finds out I'm gone, but I'll deal with that later."

"I can sense that the enemy is an akuma."

"Akuma?"

"An akuma is a human that possess tremendous power given by another Miraculous."

"Another Miraculous? Not my partner's?"

"No, a separate kwami. From what I'm feeling this kwami's power is being used for evil. The way to stop it is to find where the source of their power and break it. Usually it's an object that seems out of place or coveted by the akuma. Make sure to capture the butterfly that comes out."

"What about my partner?" Solene asked.

"He should be feeling it, too. But remember: only you can cleanse it."

"Find the source of power, break it, and capture butterfly. Got it!" Her shoulder's setting, her blue eyes clear and ready, she gave a small squeal of happiness.

"I'm ready to do this!"

"You can do it!" Tikki nodded encouragingly. "Just follow your instincts. You were made to be Ladybug. I can tell. Now say the words!"

"Tikki, Spots On!"

The magic hit automatically from her feet to her head. Her slippers disappeared and were instantly strapped with brown leather boots that extended all the way up her thighs. Her blue gown faded away to a lovely red tabard that held black dots with a wavy black lace at the bottom edge. Underneath the tabard, a comfortable, white, long-sleeved shirt with a folded collar spread down her arms to her wrists. Brown leather gloves, the same material as her boots, covered her fingers. A jet-black corset replaced her blue bodice and laced around her back. A tan belt strapped around her waist with a black scabbard along with a red and black spotted yoyo. A rapier appeared in the scabbard with a spiral handle - just like a pirate would have. Her hair, suddenly unbounded by the braid, flowed freely over her shoulders to her mid back. A mask of deep red covered her nose and eyes. Watching in the vanity mirror, her booted feet did a small dance of delight as a tan cavalier's hat with a brilliant red feather perched on her head to finish the look.

"Woooow…" she breathed, twisting in the mirror to admire her reflection. "I really am Coccinelle! I look amazing! Like a true vigilante!" A tight feeling hit her stomach and she sensed a dangerous presence not too far away.

The akuma...

"No time to admire my spots. I've got a job to do!" Hurrying to the window, she tossed it open and plucked up the yoyo from her belt. Looking at the buildings around her, she shot the weapon forward and it automatically circled around a chimney across the street.

"Watch out, Paris! Here comes Coccinelle!"

And without another thought, she laughed happily as the yoyo whipped her out of the window and into the brilliant blue sky.