Hi! I'm brand-spanking new, but I watched season one and got obsessed, and when that happens I just start writing. I'm glad I found this place; content is always great and I'm so glad to be part of the community!

Just as a quick rundown before I begin:
- This series covers some sensitive topics. In particular, one of the main characters (an OC) suffers from depression, anxiety, and anger control issues, partially because of trauma and past events. If you have experience with these types of issues and/or they make you uncomfortable, please feel free to stop reading right here. And know that you're not alone.
- Story-wise, each "chapter" is intended to be written in such a way that it feels episodic, just like the actual show. I hope to post every few days, no later than once a week, but I do have my own personal original world I am supposed to be writing in - this is my "I need to take a break from that and write something just for me" project. But when I do post, expect a full story, not just a fragment of one.
- There are a number of OCs (Heroes, Villains, Kwamii) that are going to pop up. The main focus of the story, however, is intended to be both exploring life in this world as not the main protagonists of the show to some degree and (of course) pushing Adrien and Marinette together, because they're perfect and deserve each other.
- Having only watched season one, some things may not be accurate. Sorry about that. It is intended to be something of an AU however, so if something isn't quite the same just assume it's because of that.

That all out of the way, this episode is the origin story, the background on what's actually going on before we dive into the actual meat of what I have planned. You, dear reader, are about to meet a boy recently moved from England, who is struggling with some things and is tasked with a lot of responsibility by another Kwamii Guardian who is concerned that things are about to get much, much worse...

Rothan wanted to love Paris. He'd always wanted to live here, be able to see the sights and discover its hidden gems, perhaps even meet a pair of the coolest people on the planet. How could he complain when he was now living in the city of his dreams, his mom had a great job as a lawyer, and everything was going his way? Things could not be more perfect.

And yet, staring out his bedroom window in their new flat, Rothan was very unhappy. Moving here had been great, but it had also caused a few memories to surface, memories he had done his best to manage for the past year. No. We're not doing this again, especially not in Paris. The boy shuddered as he considered the consequences of his temper and roiling emotions and growled. He needed to get out and clear his head, before things got out of hand. His mother wouldn't be home for an hour or two anyways. Grabbing his satchel, the boy checked the mirror and ran a hand through his long, messy, spiky brown hair. Dark green-grey eyes stared back at him, taking in the all-black ensemble of shirt, jeans, leather jacket, and boots. I look like an emo. Or a try-hard bad boy. He chuckled dryly, shook his head, and headed for the door. Not that anyone should care. And if they do, I'll deal with it.

As Rothan hit the streets, he let his mind wander to his plans for his next writing project. There was a short story contest for one of his favorite magazines coming up, and that might be fun to enter into. Alternatively, he'd yet to work on his personal pieces since their arrival in Paris, and with the start of school right around the corner, he really needed to add a little to his slow-growing anthology of stories. And there was freelance editing he had due soon, and all sorts of other projects he wanted to work on. In short, the boy could probably write for hours and not even be close to finished. Not that I mind much. I've got a few million stories tucked away that someday I'll get around to telling.

The sun, the breeze, and the hustle of city life was slowly easing Rothan's mood, and he drifted down the street mildly oblivious to the world around him. He was so lost in another world that he wasn't paying enough attention, and he found himself on a bridge staring out over the river, not sure where he was or how he had gotten there. At least I have my GPS to get me home. Swinging his legs over the railing, he leaned back against a light pole and grunted something incomprehensible, letting the sunshine soak to his core. His mother used to compare him to a black cat with the amount of time he spent dozing in the sun. He didn't particularly care for that comparison anymore, but there were days that he missed it. He paused, realizing what he was doing, and chided himself, his previous bad mood returning at a rapid clip. Don't even start that. You're not a child anymore, as much as you'd like to be. Sixteen was barely an adult either, but Rothan didn't think of it that way – or at least he tried not to. He drew slow, calming breaths, closed his eyes, and tried to relax. He might have succeeded, too, had someone not come in from behind.

"Excuse me, but, like, you're in my shot." Rothan's head whipped so hard it popped, making him wince and making his mood even worse. "I'm sorry?"

"I need you to move!" The blonde-haired, designer-clothed girl, hair in a high ponytail, looked at him with a prissy disdain it took everything in his power not to snarl at. "We're taking a picture, and you're in the way!"

"Ah, I see. You're taking a picture right here, in the middle of this empty bridge, with no one else around, right where I'm at?" The black-clothed boy rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Smooth, real smooth."

"It's not my fault you're sitting in the best place to take a spot on this bridge." The girl's red-headed friend gave him a shy, apologetic wave as the blonde huffed and stamped her foot. "Who do you think you are, anyways?"

"I could ask the same of you, jerk." Suddenly Rothan was on his feet and glaring right back into the little snob's face. His fists were balled so tight they were white, and he forced himself to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Not here!

"I am the MAYOR's daughter!" she shrieked, her anger building as well. "And you're going to regret talking to me like that."

"No, I don't think I am." Rothan didn't bother holding back a snarl this time as he hoisted his satchel onto his arm. "I'd use more choice words but I'm a gentleman." He turned away so she couldn't see the irrational tears stinging his eyes. "Take your damn photo."

His legs were shaking, his fists trembling, but he refused to show weakness. He refused to show weakness. So, he held his head up high, put his hands behind his back, and took slow, steady paces away, ignoring the furious shouts from behind him. No weakness. Then why was he breathing like he had just run a mile, and his eyes burning like he had walked through a cloud of smog?

No weakness.

"How interesting." From inside his hidden room, in an undisclosed location, Hawkmoth looked out over the city. "A young man who struggles to control his temper. A bit emotionally charged today. A perfect target for my next victim." Holding out a hand, he let a small white butterfly fall into it and slowly turn a dark black. With a cruel smile he released it into the sky. "Go, my little Akuma, and show them your power!"

After several long moments of waiting and sipping on a martini, he felt it – the deep connection that meant his Akuma had found his target and bonded to a personal item. "Why hello there," he purred, smiling at the thought of his latest plan. "Are you a bit lonely today? What if I could offer you a helping hand?"

"Hawkmoth." The voice was hoarse and raspy, like he'd been crying. Even better.

"What a clever boy, too! I can give you the power to rewrite reality how you see fit, you and that little pen of yours. You could have whatever you want, if you'll do one small favor for me in turn."

"The Miraculous?" Hawkmoth paused. Even after so many possessions, so many victims, something felt… different about this one. Or something had changed. The feeling he had noticed seemed to have shifted, from something large and powerful that he could control to something small, hard and dangerous. Catching himself, he quickly tried to placate the boy. "That's right. I would greatly appreciate it if you could bring me those, in return for these powers. What do you say?"

There was a tiny pause, a hesitating conflict that Hawkmoth knew, he felt he was going to win. He was so close; he could taste those Miraculous now…

"No."

"What?" Hawkmoth's mood went from pleased to stunned in fractions of a second. "But I thought –"

"You thought what? You could manipulate me at my lowest, during one of my bouts? You're the worst, you know that? Taking advantage of innocent people, taking advantage of ME when I barely have control over myself. For that you're going to pay, someday."

"Why you little –" Teeth grit, Hawkmoth tried to keep his temper, and failed. "I will get what I want, someday, and you will regret speaking to me like that, brat."

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" The little, hard ball that he had felt suddenly exploded, a wave of psionic force hammering into his brain and knocking him off his feet. The connection he had held was abruptly terminated, and the supervillain clutched his head in agony. The world was swimming, and he could barely focus. Reaching out to press a button on his remote, which had clattered to the floor, he closed the blinds on the window overlooking the city before he hit the intercom. "Yes, sir, what is it?"

"Natalie," he whispered, and heard a frightened gasp before he passed out.

The blast had affected Rothan as much as it had Hawkmoth, and he was on hands and knees staring at the ground as a wave of nausea washed over him. Swallowing down the bile, he crawled over to the river and tried to steady himself. That mental shout had taken all of his strength, he realized, staring at himself in the dark blue water and trying very hard not to see double. He hadn't gone far from the bridge, but he was very lucky there was no one around to see that, especially that nasty Karen of a girl. Sitting back, he slowly made his way away from the edge again and put his head back, letting it rest on the cobble wall he had been leaning on a few minutes before.

And then he cried. A hard cry, not like the occasional tears he allowed himself in his room or the snotty sobs he would endure while in his therapy sessions. This was a real, hard, deep cry that left him gasping for air and his face covered in tears, the kind of cry that made you thirsty and sleepy all at once. After he finally caught his breath, he sighed, drained and ready for a nap in the sunshine. He would have ambled home and gone to sleep on their little balcony if he wasn't so wiped right that second. He almost fell asleep right there, but a tickle on his nose woke him up, and he looked down to see a large purplish-black butterfly sitting there, seeming to be as confused as he was.

"Shoo," he ordered, shaking his head, and the butterfly rose from his face and tried to fly away. But to the boy's amazement, it was more like a drunken stumble before it hit and clutched the wall, completely worn out. Sadness went to amusement as he watched the insect stutteringly fly about, unable to get a grip on its location, and Rothan burst into a fit of giggles as it tried to figure out desperately what was going on. "Easy, little butterfly," he whispered as it began to fly again, realizing that it would not be choosing another victim anytime soon. "Over here…"

It fluttered to him after a moment of hesitation, and the boy grabbed a pencil box from his satchel. Opening it, the butterfly darted inside, apparently glad to have a place to rest. Closing it gently, he gave it a small pat and put it away, retrieving a small handkerchief to wipe his face. "Don't worry, little friend. I'll get you to Ladybug and back to normal as quick as I can."

He grinned as he looked up and smiled into the sunshine, feeling the best he had in days. For once things were going his way, and he wasn't about to complain. Even after such a rotten few hours, how could he? Did I really do that? Did I make that Akuma so disoriented when I fought back? Rothan was amazed – he hadn't thought that was something even possible. And maybe it wasn't unless Hawkmoth's guard was very down. But even if they never found out, the pair of superheroes would get a day of rest, and he could be glad that he was the one giving it.

With a sleepy hum he set his phone's GPS and began to make his way home, completely ignorant of the storm that he had just caused.

Tikki had gone into a tizzy, almost forcing herself into her partner's earrings before the girl had managed to calm her down. "We have to GO, Marinette! Something just awful has happened – I can feel it!"

"Everything is fine, Tikki. There's no Akuma on the loose, and patrol isn't for a few hours. It's just another quiet day in Paris, thank goodness." Marinette turned back to her textbook, her tongue stuck out in frustration. "Now, can you explain this to me? I don't quite understand –" She paused as she heard an unfamiliar ringtone in her room and looked around. "What is that?"

"Eep!" Tikki turned red –well, redder than normal, anyways – and giggled shyly, then hiccupped again as another burst of music came out of her mouth. "Cat Noir is calling. You'd better answer."

Marinette blinked. Why was her partner calling now? Was everything alright? Unwillingly, she stood up. "Alright, Spots On, Tikki."

Once her transformation was complete she flipped open her yoyo and saw Chat's worried face looking back. "Hello, minou. Is everything okay over there?"

"I'm purrfect, thanks, but I was more worried about you. My Kwamii was freaking out, said something terrible has happened, and my first thought was that –"

"Hawkmoth had gotten me? No, I'm fine," the girl told him, raising a worried hand. "But it's so odd, my Kwamii is saying the same thing. Do you think something is really wrong in Paris?"

"I'm not sure but –" There was another buzz from the desk, this time from Marinette's phone. "What's that, Bugaboo?"

"I thought we agreed you would stop calling me that."

"You agreed. I said no such thing."

Marinette harrumphed and checked her phone. "It's an alert from the Ladyblog."

"You follow it?" Suddenly Chat noir sounded flustered, and she had no idea why. "I mean, you're Ladybug after all."

"Someone's got to make sure that the nosiest reporter in the city is led in the wrong direction." And Alya would be crushed if I didn't. Win-win. "Let's see, why is she – what in the world?"

It was Cat Noir's turn to be worried. "What's wrong?"

"Strange blast of light seen on river's edge. Culprit unknown, but no damage seems to be done. Could this be another Akuma attack, or is there a new villain or hero on the prowl?" Marinette went from mildly concerned to panic attack in less than a second. "This is NOT good! It looks like Chloé sent the tip in, but the photo is so grainy that you can't make out what happened. We need to get over there right now and look for clues."

"I'll meet you there." Chat hung up and Marinentte sighed. So much for homework. Locking her door so no nosy parents peeked in, she put her yoyo back into weapon form and sighed. "Guess you were right, Tikki. Let's go."

Rothan had made it most of the way home when his phone blew up. First it was a notification from the Ladyblog, and then a series of frantic texts from his mother wanting to know where he was and she knew he liked to go and walk about and that bridge was so close to home and OH MY GOSH ARE YOU ALRIGHT. Rothan sighed. This was not going to be a text message conversation. Dialing her number, his mom's phone rung only once before she picked up, letting out a choked sob. "Rothan, thank goodness. What's going on? I saw the news and I –"

"Easy, mum. Yes, something did happen. I was there, but I'm okay. There –" He hesitated, not wanting to make her panic. "There was almost an Akuma attack."

"ALMOST?" The shriek made Rothan pull away from his phone, and he looked around for a place to stop and explain things. Ducking into a nearby café, he patiently listened as she continued to rant. "You were there to see it? Oh my gosh, Rothan, that means you were close! Are you alright?" She paused as a new horror sunk in. "Honey, please don't tell me –"

His voice dropped an octave. "Yes, it was me." As another choked sob came from across the line, he hurried to comfort her. "But I'm fine. I fought him off. I don't think this Hawkmoth fellow is used to people telling him where to go. Actually, I know it." He gave her a dry chuckle as he patted his bag. "I currently have a very drunk butterfly in my satchel. Kind of cute, actually."

"You captured it?" Through his mother's relieved tears, he could hear a note of surprise. "What did you do?"

"Some people are just to angry to be controlled, I guess. I have a bit of a headache but I'm doing okay. Just don't tell anyone! You know I hate –"

"Interviews," she finished, a small chuckle escaping. "I know. How can I not after how many you've had to sit through with me?" Her voice grew serious again as she continued. "Honey, I am so sorry this happened. We should have never moved to Paris, not in the state you're in. I can send you home to stay with your uncle if you like –"

"Mom, it's alright. We knew the risks." Rothan smiled sadly as he held up a finger to the server who was trying to take his order, then mouthed a silent, needy please at her. As she sighed and nodded, he returned to his phone. "I'd rather be here with you and know we're together anyways. Paris might not be the safest these days, but it's great if you're a lawyer!"

They both shared a small laugh, and she sighed. "I know. Still, it was too soon after –"

"It wasn't." The steel in Rothan's voice surprised even him. "I need to find some peace, and the best way to do that is to face things head on. And what better way to do than to be looked in the face by someone who would like to use it? I'm not going to let him hurt us. Okay?"

"Alright. Be careful, sweetie. I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too. I'll see you in a bit – how does Italian sound?"

"Lovely. Love you, kiddo."

"You too, mom." He hung up and looked at the server who had returned. "Sorry, overprotective parent. We've had a … rough year."

"You're good." The girl gave him a look filled with curiosity, and Rothan realized she wasn't much older than he was, maybe even a little younger. "Did you really…"

"Not a word." Rothan raised a cautious hand. "Last thing I need is for the paparazzi to be following me around. I don't need them to think I'm some sort of friend of Ladybug or something."

"Your secret is safe with me." She stuck out a friendly hand. "I'm Lyra. Nice to meet you."

"Rothan." He returned the gesture, not realizing how much his hand was shaking until it was in a firmer grip. I'm more tired than I thought. "You work here?"

"My parent's place actually." She smiled, grey eyes studying him through light blond bangs. "You do realize you're going to get a visit from her at some point? And Cat Noir?" She stared dreamily into the distance and Rothan stifled a laugh. She blushed. "Sorry. I must look stupid."

"I get it, celebrity crush." He waved a hand. "I don't think there's a single girl in Paris who doesn't have one on that black cat." He raised an eyebrow and smiled. "You do know he's absolutely head over heels for Ladybug, though, right?"

"And that girl doesn't even seem to notice him. He could use a break, poor kitty."

Rothan gave a solemn nod. "You're absolutely right." He would not mention he was a desperate LadyNoir fan, even though he really wanted to. "You go to school in the area?"

"Collège Françoise Dupont. You?"

"Same. It will be my first year in the country. I'm pretty excited."

"That's great!" She shot him a smile. "It will be good to know someone there. I'm… pretty shy."

"Really? I can't tell." This elicited a laugh, which he shared. "I'm a bit of a loner, but it will be good to have at least one friend."

"Yeah." They shared a smile, then Lyra facepalmed. "Oh my gosh, you're probably thirsty. I'm so sorry."

"No sweat. What's good here?"

"Do you like coffee or tea?"

"Tea. It's about the only food I like from home, actually." He made a face. "Britain was great, but everything is so bland. Either that or I just have really hard to please taste buds."

She laughed again. "I have just the thing then. I'll be right back."

Rothan smiled after her. She's nice. I haven't talked to anyone like that since – Wow, over a year. He stared a his hands, which seemed to have stopped trembling from exhaustion. Have I really turned into such a moody mess? I didn't really have any close friends back home, but I really started to drift after… Well, I guess the fresh start has changed things for the better.

Lyra returned with some sort of tea latte for him and a small espresso for herself, and he raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to be working."

She shook her head. "My parents are letting me take a break. You absolutely needed someone to talk to. I can sense those kinds of things."

"Thanks." He let her sit down across from him, and they eased into a conversation about their day, the lives, and the secrets of Paris. Lyra explained that the girl he had run into was known as Chloé Bourgeois, and while she was, in fact, the mayor's daughter, the grapevine told her she was unpleasant to be around and was going to be in her class, at the very least. When pressured for information she wouldn't divulge her sources, but when Rothan teased her about getting ahold of class schedules and she turned beet red, he grinned. "I'm curious, alright? It wasn't that hard – I have a knack for that sort of thing."

"Considering computer science?"

"Engineering, but it comes with the territory. You make it sound like I was hacking!"

"Weren't you?"

"No – well, not exactly, anyways." She shrugged. "It's not my fault they leave schedules up for everyone to see on the school website, and that I managed to make an account a little early."

"Are we in the same classes together?"

"I'll have to check. I'd like that though."

After almost an hour of talking like this, Rothan stood and stretched. "I need to go. I kind of told my mom I would make dinner, and," he lowered his voice so the other patrons couldn't hear, "I'm really tired still from today."

"That's fair. I need to get back to work anyways." They both got up, and without thinking Lyra gave him a quick hug before grabbing their drinks. "I'm glad I could help today."

"I really appreciate it." As will my therapist. "Hopefully I'll be seeing you in a few days?"

"I'm looking forward to it. You take care. No more – erm – adventures."

Rothan narrowed his eyes but couldn't stop the smile quirking at the edges of his mouth. "You sound like my mother. I'll be careful."

He headed for the door, then gave a quick salute. Lyra responded with a happy wave, and he set out, feeling an unusual whistle build in his chest. It had been a sucky day, but it had gotten better. He couldn't ask for much more.

"No trace of anything. No superpowers, no strange signals, nothing." Ladybug was feeling around for clues, while Cat Noir scanned the area. "Any luck?"

"It was over an hour ago," he sighed. "Whoever it was probably had the bright idea to take off."

"You're hopeless, Chat."

"I'm hilarious."

"You keep telling yourself that." A buzz from Ladybug's yoyo made her stop. "You're not butt-dialing me again, are you?"

"I'm a cat, not a donkey." Ladybug couldn't help but crack a smile at the veiled joke. "No, M'lady, I am not calling you."

"Then who –" Ladybug flipped open her phone and saw her tracker was open. The odd part was not the fact that it was still on – they had used it to find their way to the scene, after all – but rather the little picture that was now nearby and moving at a decent clip. "What is that?"

"Hmm?" Chat looked over her shoulder and saw the blue, stylized scarab beetle making its way across the rooftops. "A villain maybe?"

"Doesn't explain how we can track them."

"Then maybe –" he gasped. "Could it be Hawkmoth?"

"Silly minou, it would be a butterfly if it was him, remember? Besides, we know he's got that hidden from us somehow." She looked at it again, her brow scrunching. "It's almost like… it's an entirely new Miraculous. Something we've never seen before."

"That's not paws-ible." Chat stopped mid-pun. "Is it?"

"Firstly, that was horrible."

"Hey!"

"Second, I don't know. Maybe?" She sighed and closed her yoyo. "Only one way to find out!"

The pair of teen superheroes took off, Marinette keeping a close eye on the rooftops for any sort of personage. After about five minutes, they saw a blue-and-gold clothed, masked figure examining an apartment building, greying hair pulled into a tight bun and holding a small box in one hand, a large blue book in the other. Ladybug could barely believe it. "It is a new Miraculous user," she whispered, "But how?"

"No time. We've got to stop her, talk to her. Maybe she knows what's going on - or is behind it." Chat was already leaping away before his partner could say anything, and she sighed. "Wait up!"

They bounded to the roof where she was standing, both spinning weapons. "Who are you?" The girl demanded, defensive stance at the ready. "A new enemy?"

The figure never turned around but cursed under her breath. "I really don't have time for this. He's going to be back any second."

"Who?" Chat gave the newcomer a concerned look, but she shook her head. "Not for you to know, I'm afraid. I guess I'm doing this the old-fashioned way. Sorry, Knutt. We'll get this straightened out eventually."

The older woman flipped open her blue book and began to mutter, pointing at herself and then the building, and Ladybug grew pale. "Stop!" she shouted and lunged with her yoyo. Just as she was about to make contact, however, there was a puff of blue smoke, and the lady was gone, leaving the toy-turned-weapon spinning in the air. She gave in a quick yank and it zipped back to her hand. "Where did she go?"

Chat opened his baton. "Disappeared off the map too. I don't know about you, but that seemed awfully weird."

"Tell me about it. What was she doing?"

"No idea. I don't think we completely blue it though."

Marinette needed a second for that one. "Chat, oh my gosh."

"That was pure gold!"

"Ugh." She rolled her eyes and looked at her yoyo-phone again. "I need to go. But we'll continue the search tonight, while we're on patrol. Alright?"

"Fair. Fa –" The black cat paused and corrected. "I mean, my family won't be happy if I don't get back soon."

"Right. I'll see you later, alley cat."

Both ran off in opposite directions, each worried about what had just happened and each other. So lost in their own thoughts were they that they didn't even see the brown-haired boy snapping a picture of the two with his phone, an expression of awe across his face.

Rothan didn't get the chance to examine the photo until later than night, well after the sun went down and the two resident heroes would be out on patrol. Window open in case they dropped in, small box of chocolates waiting on the ledge, and a busy young man writing at his desk – this had become more habit than thought over the week he'd been in town, and a part of him knew it was silly. They're not going to stop for tea and crumpets while on patrol, you dork. Still, the other side of him half-hoped he would get to meet the two of them, and he was really hoping the Akuma, now sitting in a glass jar in the box, would increase their interest. It was more active now, and he figured that Hawkmoth was starting to recover, but by the drunken stupor that it had he could tell it would be a day or two yet before the supervillain would be back in action.

As he worked, he stopped to pull up his phone and look at the shot he had taken. It was great, the afternoon sun catching behind the two heroes and half-silhouetting them, a lovely romantic picture that made him smile. Not that the moody boy would admit it, but he was a huge romantic and LadyNoir fanboy, and he really wanted to see them get together. Maybe, someday. It would be a boost to my confidence, for sure. If they can make it, in a world that always seems to be against them… maybe I can too.

The boy started to return to his writing, but then noticed a dark shape in his vanity mirror, laying on the bed behind him. "I don't remember that box being there this morning."

It was long, thin, and small, a pretty blue decoration on the lid and a note underneath it. A present from Mum? No, she would have just given it to me. Where did that come from?

Walking over, he picked it up and flipped open the note, reading aloud. "Dear Rothan, I apologize for how sudden this likely is. I got jumped by two well-meaning heroes today and things went a little off the rails. Inside is a gift I think you'll find quite to your tastes. Hope to meet you soon. And it's signed LL." Sitting on the bed, he opened the package and almost laughed out loud. "Fingerless gloves? No way!"

He'd always wanted a pair, but his mother believed they looked ridiculous and had firmly (but kindly) told him that if he wanted a pair, he would have to save for some himself. He'd been looking at a nice pair for a while now but with his incessant writing it was hard to save for a pair of gloves and pencils, pens, and paper. "It's certainly not a gift from Mum," he mused, "Unless she got a huge bonus. These are nice." They were light, almost silky to the touch, and had two strange grey embroideries on the wrist, that almost looked like blades. "Well, I'm not complaining. Let's try these suckers on."

They fit perfectly. He marveled at how breathable they were, how thin and delicate they made his hands look, and how well they fit with his regular getup. They were, in a word, ravishing. But as he examined them in the light from his vanity lamp, he felt his hands getting warm. Very warm. Practically hot.

"Ooh, oh, ouch!" He snarled, shaking his hands in irritation. "What the heck?" As he spoke, however, there was a blinding flash of white light and he fell over onto the bed, momentarily unable to see. "Whoa!" Once his vision cleared he found himself staring at the ceiling, very confused. What just happened? My hands don't hurt anymore, but that was… not normal.

Sitting up, he looked around his room, blinking stars out of his eyes. A sudden noise distracted him, and he glanced at the vanity, where his satchel lay open. There was something… digging inside of it? Standing slowly, he crept over and heard a muffled voice, old and wizened. "Hmm. I don't… Let's see… Perhaps… This will do nicely I think. And… Oh! Delicious." Rothan's eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he saw a small green creature, no more than four inches high, come out of his satchel, a pencil sharpened to a nub in one hand and a carrot stick from his snack stash in the other. It crunched the root vegetable and hummed a happy tune before looking up at his new host. "Ah, hello."

Rothan squeaked in alarm, and the figure held up a hand, sudden concern in his eyes. "No panicking! It's alright, I swear. I'm friendly."

"The heck?" Rothan backed up two steps and nearly fell back into his bed. "What – who –"

"Oh boy." The green creature looked at him with large red eyes, and Rothan realized how decidedly mantis-like the being looked. "I knew this was a bad idea. How many times have I warned that Knutt that people need this to not be sprung on them?"

"Knutt?" Somehow Rothan's voice was working even though his brain was not. "Who's that?"

"He's –" The creature paused and shook his head. "No, too fast. Let's start with the basics – what do you think those are?" He gestured at Rothan's gloves with his half-eaten carrot stick. "These are quite good by the way. Did you rub them in jalapeño juice?"

"Uh, yeah." Rothan just stared for a second before he looked back at the gloves. "I – um – No idea," he managed to squeak.

"I'll give you a clue. Your celebrity crushes have something similar."

"I do NOT have a celebrity crush on either Chat or Lady –" He paused as the words sunk in and looked down. "Holy smokes. These are a Miraculous?"

"You're a bright one, much brighter than some of my other partners." The small creature beamed. "That's right, these are my Miraculous. My name's Staffe, and it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Rothan."

"No way," the boy breathed, a small smile creeping up his face. "Wait, you said your Miraculous? What does that mean? What are you?"

"I'm a Kwamii. Like Ladybug and Chat Noir, I live in your Miraculous and give you some special powers, when you need them and call on me." Staffe lounged back, leaning on his makeshift – well, staff. "We have a lot of things to discuss."

"Wait, hold up. Why me?" Rothan was both excited and confused, his eyes gleaming in a way they hadn't since… Well, likely since last year, the Kwamii realized, his heart already going out to his new ally. Poor fellow. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm honored, and I'd love to help protect Paris. But don't Ladybug and Chat Noir have it under control?"

"They're just two people, and Lady Lapis doesn't think it's enough."

"Who?"

"My guardian. I'll take her to meet you soon enough. Her partner is Knutt, the Kwamii of Knowledge, and he gives her limited foresight ability. Not enough to be an oracle, but premonitions. She believes that Hawkmoth is about to get more powerful and gain some new allies as well. They recently discovered that there are other evil Miraculous users that are headed to the city, although how and from where we can't tell."

"Evil Miraculous users?"

"Where do you think Hawkmoth gets his powers from? Anyways, the Spider, Spitting Bug, and Roach Miraculous were all stolen from the previous Guardian about a century ago, and Knutt says he can sense them coming to Paris. It's bad news if they making allies with Hawkmoth – they're all quite dangerous."

"That's not good." Rothan suddenly looked worried. "Why didn't she just go tell Ladybug?"

"Erm, well… It's complicated. Ladybug is part of the Zodiac Miraculous team, whereas Lady Lapis and I are members of the Swarm. We don't always get along. But don't worry," Staffe raised his hands to calm the now even more agitated teen. "That's hopefully going to change now. You're going to be allies, and no one is going to complain."

"Right." Rothan put on a steely face and smiled, but his new partner could tell he was still very anxious – which was very understandable, considering he had just been thrown into what amounted into a turf war, a villain crisis, and a very strange new set of powers. The boy was quiet for a bit. "You know my name," he finally said, very quiet. "What else do you know about me?"

Staffe paused, considered lying, then decided against it. "All of it. Knutt briefed me before I came. Rothan, I am so, so sorry."

"It's alright. I don't mind if you know, I don't think. You seem nice enough."

"It still can't be easy for you."

"No, it's not." They both sat in comfortable silence for a while and then Staffe flew up to his shoulder. "If you ever need to talk about it, I'll be here."

"Thank you." Pause. "You do understand, though, I need to tell Mum about all this? Because of that?"

"Yes, I do. Knutt does not agree with that thinking, but if you got hurt and your mother had no idea why, you would both be very upset. It won't ease her worry so much, but it's better she knows that I'm helping to protect you."

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

"Anytime. As long as you do your best to not spread it around, you'll both be fine. Now, I'm actually quite looking forward to meeting your mother, but I think I should talk you through some basic things first…"

"I know this is a lot, Mum. And you're handling it very well." Rothan's voice was quiet, soothing, trying to get her tense shoulders to relax as she sat on the couch. "But think of it like a job – just like you have, except with really weird hours."

"It's just so dangerous." Her voice was halting, worry evident. "Rothan, what you're doing is very noble, and it's a big step up, and I'm very proud of you. But, with all of this, everything that's happened," she gestured erratically, then set her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry. I know you've always wanted to make a difference. But isn't there a safer way to do it?"

"Ma'am, with all due respect," Staffe flew up near her and gave her a kind smile. "I'm sure there are safer ways to make a difference. A writer's voice can be one of the strongest." He gave Rothan a wink, and he smiled. "But this isn't just because he wants to make a difference. It's because we need him, very badly, if we are going to survive the next onslaught. Knutt was very clear about that." He sighted, rubbing his eyes. "I have to say it, but this may actually be the only way to keep the both of you safe."

She nodded. "I think you're right, or at least strongly believe that you are. And I believe you're responsible enough for this. As long as you're okay, I'll be happy."

"I guarantee you, Mrs. Terresia, with me he can be in no safer hands." The kwamii gave her a serious salute. "Not to mention I could imagine no safer place than the hands of the Ladybug."

"Well, I sincerely hope Rothan doesn't end up in Ladybug's hands." She gave her son a sly smile as she continued. "I'm pretty sure that's exactly the opposite of what he would like to do."

"Mother!" But she just smiled and laughed, and he knew everything would be alright. She didn't joke when she was really upset. He went over and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Thank you for understanding."

"Thank you both for telling me, for being honest."

"I always do my best. I don't want you to worry."

She gave him a smile. "I know. So, how is this all going to work?"

"I'm going to stay in school as much as I can, unless there's an Akuma attack and I need to go fight. Patrol can be early mornings before school, when I'm usually up writing anyways. That's a quiet time, but in the off chance that something happens I will be watching. Otherwise, I think things will be mostly regular, except when duty calls."

"So, you won't be gone all hours of the day?"

"Yeah. I mean, I may not be here, but I won't be traipsing about as a superhero. It's a responsibility, not a toy. Besides, you know how stir crazy I get."

After a moment she nodded. "I think that sounds fine. As long as you get good grades and can still take care of your basic chores and stay safe."

"I will, mother." He paused for a moment. "I do need to go run an errand really quick. I still have that Akuma from this afternoon, and I need to deliver it to Ladybug before something happens and it escapes. They should be on patrol, and I won't be more than an hour tops. Is that alright?"

"As long as you get to bed at a reasonable hour." His mother smiled. "Before you go, I want to see the suit. That way I know what to look for."

"Alright, can do." He gave Staffe a serious look and nodded. "You ready?"

"Absolutely."

"Then let's do this. Staffe, Scythes Out!"

The Kwamii wasted no time, zipping over and flying into his new partner's left glove. Rothan felt a warm tingle up his body, and stretched out, smiling as the suit formed. It was a green so dark it was almost black, with lighter accents on the legs. His hair stayed relatively the same but much more unkempt, and a mask covered his face. The gloves didn't disappear, but they changed to have some strange protrusions at the first knuckle, and also shared that same accent color. He made special note of the simple utility belt he now wore, already thinking about what he could put there – I wonder if Staffe can just move some of my satchel's contents onto it, so I can pack without being transformed. Glass jar, snacks, a little cash – a lot could be useful as a superhero.

As the change finished, he posed for his mother, squatting just a little bit and holding his hands in mantis-like cups. "Ta-da! Black Mantis, at your service!"

She clapped. "It looks great, dear. I'm sure you'll be just fine."

"Thanks, mum. Be back soon, okay? Leave the balcony doors unlocked for me."

"Of course, sweetie. Have fun and be careful."

Rothan nodded and hurried toward the door. He wanted to be well rested for his first patrol tomorrow, so this would have to be a quick trip. Going outside, he jumped to his window ledge, grabbing both the jar that held the Akuma and his bag of snacks, then attaching them snugly to his belt. "Can you hear me, Staffe?"

Yes. While most Kwamii cannot communicate with their partners while transformed like this, my special talents allow me to be a little more available.

"Great. Where do I need to go?"

Knutt tells me there are a few places they always pass on their route. Probably the best one is this way…

Rothan leapt across another rooftop and finally realized where they were going, almost brining him to a screeching halt. "The Eifel Tower? No wonder I feel like it's so far."

Alright. Maybe it's not the closest spot. But I do want you to enjoy your first mission, and what better way than a view of the city?

Rothan bit his lip. "And how am I supposed to get up there?"

Climb. You might want to try those tools of yours.

"Right." Flicking his wrists, he watched as two large silver scythes shot out of those strange protrusions on his hands, looking just like mantis claws. "These act as a communicator too?"

Among other things. They have a host of uses, but only when needed.

"Okay. Is it a hard climb?"

If you're a regular person, maybe. But you have your scythes and I'm helping. It will be a workout, but after a few days it will seem normal. Up we go now.

Rothan had approached the base, and after checking for any guards he leapt up and began to sling his way to the top. His scythes were strong enough that they were able to hold him easily, but never left a scratch in the metal, which surprised the boy. It only took him ten minutes to get to the top, and the view…

"It's breathtaking. Scythes in, Staffe." It was like looking out over a peaceful starfield, and for the first time Rothan realized just how lucky he was to be part of protecting this city. "This is incredible."

"I'm glad you like it. Beautiful, isn't it?" Rothan noticed his partner was breathing hard, but he waved away the concerned glance. "I'm alright. Just haven't done a climb like that in a good few decades. I'll catch my breath in a moment."

"Carrot stick?"

"Oh! Thank you."

Rothan set himself on the edge, and they both looked out for a moment, munching on their snack and Staffe humming a quiet tune – he must be really happy to be out and about. "Thank you for giving me this chance. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't. That's why we chose you." They both shared a smile, and Rothan hopped back down onto the walkway. "Let's hurry and finish this, before mom gets worried. It's still a long ways back." Pulling the jar, a pen, and a piece of paper out of his pocket, he set them in an obvious spot and scribbled a note. Staffe looked over his shoulder in curiosity. "What is this for?"

"No surprises when I show up. Just telling them there's a new friend in town." He left no name, but there was a small smiley face at the end, so he hoped it would be alright. Staffe nodded his approval. "A good idea."

"I thought so. Do you want to send a message to their Kwamii?

"Hmm. Let's make it simple – just tell them that Staffe sends his regards."

"Done." Finishing with a flourish, he patted the jar. "Bye-bye, little butterfly. Tell the dynamic two-o that I said hi." Then he turned to look at his partner, who was smiling, floating at eye level. "Ready to go?"

"All charged up, Rothan."

"Alright, then. Staffe, Scythes Out!"

The transformation felt good on Rothan's body. It felt right. Natural, even. Like it was always meant to be. He grinned as he ran over to the edge of the tower, took one last look around, and then tossed himself over, knowing he could use his scythes to climb down. The wind was in his hair, the cool night air comforted him, and he knew this was meant to be. He was meant to be here, even if it was hard and he didn't understand it all yet. One day at a time. We figure this out together, Staffe.

That sounds wonderful, partner.

Rothan grinned. It was time to head home.

It's a lot of new to chew through, I'm sure. I'm excited to share the next chapter with you in this saga. If you have any questions about background, notice an error, or anything else, you can find me on Twitter at jamesthedabbler or Tumblr at james-brafin.
Until then, be sure to join me next time as Rothan gets to meet his new allies in person. See you soon!