MultiplePersonas: Hey, folks! Welcome to my newest Ladybug fic!

PA2: Ahem! I think you mean our newest Ladybug fic. And this one was my idea!

MP: Let's not start that argument again. Besides, this is a time to celebrate! We've been working on this one for months!

PA2: Yeah, tell me about it. Let's just lay it all out now, folks; this is a long one.

MP: But in easily-digested portions!

PA2: An odd metaphor, but accurate. Don't worry, it's not x-number of Party Animal length chapters.

MP: Hey, leaving that one as a oneshot was your idea! But yeah, we've divided this one nicely - though I still say it feels like a video game.

PA2: And I still say that that's part of the appeal. What's the point of writing fanfiction if you don't take any liberties? *PS. That last bit of MP's line won't make sense for a few chapters, so don't worry.*

MP: You can decide for yourselves. Just enjoy the ride.

PA2: On that, at least we can agree. Happy reading!

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Frau Märchen:

A Miraculous Ladybug Fic

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Chapter 1: Once Upon a Time

"'Once upon a time'," Ms. Bustier began. It was the last class of the day at College Francoise Dupont, and Ms. Bustier was getting heavily invested into her lesson. "Truly magical words. So simple, so elegant, and vague enough to reflect the timeless nature of the tales. More importantly, though, they distance the tales from both our modern time and our modern reality. They set up the idea that anything and everything is possible, that frogs turning into princes and spinning straw into gold are no more uncommon than the sun rising in the morning. They are some of the most important words in literary history, and have served as the inspiration for many a dreamer."

Dreaming was exactly what some of the students were doing. Chloe had her phone out, texting away, and Alix and Kim had fallen asleep in their chairs. On the other hand, Rose and Mylene were paying rapt attention, and most of the others showed a polite interest as well.

Among them was Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a pretty half-Chinese girl with big, expressive blue eyes, who was honestly somewhat surprised. Ms. Bustier was a great teacher, and she had demonstrated her appreciation for fairy tales on many occasions, but Marinette had never heard her give a lesson with so much energy before.

I think she's had first-hand experience with being inspired, she thought as she looked at Ms. Bustier's animated expression. She was a skinny woman with short red hair done up in a bun, and bright, joyful green eyes that took up half of her heart-shaped face. As usual, she was wearing her favorite pale blue jacket and seafoam blouse. She's so passionate about this.

"From the very beginning, fairy tales were created not only to entertain, but to impart lessons as well. While the stories and motifs are so old that it is nearly impossible to pin down a true 'original' for most of them, there is strong evidence pointing towards the Brothers Grimm as being the ones who brought them into the mainstream. Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm became famous for collecting folk and cautionary tales from all over their native Germany and compiling them into their various collections. While today people tend to view the romantic connotations above all others, most older versions of fairy tales, or 'Märchen', as they are called in German, were morality tales, and featured many a darker element. From Little Red Riding Hood's death at the jaws of the wolf to Snow White being revived not by true love's kiss, but by a jostling of the coffin carrying her all-but-deceased body, fairy tales are far from the child-friendly stories they tend to be perceived as," Ms. Bustier continued.

As she talked, Marinette felt a nudge at her elbow, and turned to see her best friend, Alya Cesare, grinning at her. "Imagine what it'd be like if you and Lover-boy were in that Snow White," Alya whispered, glancing over at Adrien Agreste, Marinette's barely-secret crush, sitting right in front of them. "It doesn't get much more romantic than having your prince wake you up by trying to drag your carcass back to the palace."

"Alya!" Marinette whispered back. "We should be paying attention!" But Alya's words had sparked something in her mind. She stared at the back of Adrien's head, a soft smile edging its way onto her face. Even from behind he was gorgeous. His blonde feathered hair and perfect skin alone would have been enough, but combined with his kindness and modesty? And those beautiful green eyes, and that coy smile with those sparkling teeth? She could see it now, herself lying in a glass coffin, as Adrien stepped up to her, kneeling down to press his lips against hers…

"Um, Marinette? What happened to paying attention?" Alya muttered, waving her hand in front of her friend's face. It was no good. She was completely gone. Sighing, Alya started writing down an extra set of notes.

An hour later, Ms. Bustier paused in her lesson and looked around the classroom. Marinette had awoken from her stupor by this point, but much of the rest of the class were barely paying attention.

"Perhaps I should give another example," Ms. Bustier pondered, staring at the students' dazed expressions. "Ms. Raincomprix," she said, turning to Sabrina, "what is your favorite fairy tale?"

Sabrina, taken off-guard, adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses and ran a finger through her ginger hair. "Um, Cinderella, I guess," she replied, unsure of what was about to happen.

Ms. Bustier smiled. "That's a very popular choice," she began. "Glass slippers, fairies, a trip to the ball, it's a favorite among young girls. But in the Grimm version of Cinderella, or Aschenputtel as she was known in German, things were quite different. Not only was there no fairy godmother, the role instead being filled by a hazel tree planted at the grave of Cinderella's mother, and no glass slippers, the shoes instead being gold, but her stepsisters also cut off pieces of their feet to fit in the shoes, and later had their eyes pecked out by birds. The elements we tend to associate with Cinderella, most notably the aforesaid glass slippers, came about in the version written by our country's own Charles Perrault, but many people consider the Grimm version to be the authentic one. Personally," she continued, shrugging, "I see both versions as equally valid, but there's no denying that the Grimms' version more closely matches what many would consider an 'original' or 'traditional' fairy tale, with its gory punishment of the wicked."

More students were staring forward now. Trust blood and violence to catch the attention of teenagers.

"Speaking of darker turns to common fairy tales, there is a very popular collection that has much more interesting roots than one might think. Nowadays, when people think of Alf Layla-wa-Layla, otherwise known as One Thousand and One Nights or the Arabian Nights, you'd think of Aladdin and Ali Baba, enjoyable adventure stories for children. While those stories tend to be represented fairly well in most collections, barring ones that take heavy inspiration from the Disney version, they aren't even featured in the earliest known version. What's more, the vast bulk of the Arabian Nights is more violent and much, much raunchier. Filled with descriptions of sex, both lyrical and frank, it was considered to be improper reading for women and children when it was first popularized. Only relatively recently has it become acceptable to be read in said circles, either edited or unedited."

This got the attention of the rest of the class. Where violence had failed in getting their full attention, sexual talk had succeeded.

Noticing the clock and deciding to take advantage of the surge in interest, Ms. Bustier clapped her hands together. "Now, I'm sure that many of you are wondering why I decided to have a fairy tale-focused lesson today. Well, I wanted to showcase just how important fairy tales were to our culture, and also to make you all aware of the new elective course that will be hopefully starting up very soon."

All of the students, even Alix and Kim, focused on Ms. Bustier, who was smiling. "After months of preparation, I've laid all the groundwork for an elective course of my own, focusing exclusively on the study and analysis of fairy tales from all over the world. I spoke about it with Principal Damocles, and it should be announced to the collége at large tomorrow. Technically I shouldn't even be telling you this, but given what we've been through together, I wanted to give you advance notice, and express my sincere hopes that I will see all of you attending it."

At that, the entire classroom began to buzz with whispered conversation. "In the meantime," Ms. Bustier continued, raising her voice, "I want each of you to choose a fairy tale - any one at all from any country or time - read the original version, then write a one-page report on what you were able to glean from it. It can be a lesson, a moral, an aspect of the culture, even a comparison between the original and the most popular version if you find notable differences, as long as it demonstrates insight. Tomorrow, we'll talk about your reports and have a general celebration of the starting of my new course. Class dismissed."

Now talking excitedly, the students filed out. Marinette was about to follow them when she heard Ms. Bustier's voice. "Marinette, can I speak to you for a moment before you go?" she said.

Puzzled, Marinette turned back. "Uh, sure, Ms. Bustier," she replied. "What do you need?"

Ms. Bustier smiled at her. "Oh, it's nothing serious. I just wanted to place an order for your parents' bakery. Do you think they could manage two dozen gingerbread men by tomorrow? In case you couldn't tell, I've been working on getting this course off the ground for a while, and I think some sweets would be a great way to celebrate finally getting it done."

"Absolutely!" Marinette said, her face brightening up. "You can count on us!"

"Fantastic!" Ms. Bustier replied. "Just ask your parents to give you a list of the total costs, and I'll make sure to pay them as soon as possible. Also, I'm giving you permission to come to class a little late tomorrow, so that the treats have all the time they need, and so you have time to finish up that report in case you decide to get involved with the baking yourself."

"Sounds good to me!" Marinette giggled, before turning and rushing out the door. "See you tomorrow, Ms. Bustier!"

"See you tomorrow, Marinette," Ms. Bustier said, before leaning back against her desk with a sigh of relief.

"Well, you look like the cat who's got the cream," an aggrieved voice said. Groaning softly, Ms. Bustier turned to see Ms. Mendeleiev in the doorway. The purple-haired science teacher was looking at her through her rectangular glasses with a frustrated expression on her sharp, triangular face, her bony arms crossed over her chest. While the two were friendly most of the time, there were plenty of times where her strict and short-tempered personality made talking to her...difficult.

"May I help you, Ms. Mendeleiev?" Ms. Bustier asked.

"Unless you change your mind and stop encouraging our students to spend half the day dreaming away, then no, you may not," Ms. Mendeleiev replied.

"Marie, please. I understand that we don't always see eye to eye, but I don't understand how my running an elective does anything to affect your own relationship with the students, nor how it hurts your ability to teach," Ms. Bustier said, getting up and walking over to the angry science teacher.

Mrs. Mendeleiev took a deep breath. "It's the principle of the matter, Caline," she said. "Students are here to learn. That's the reason that they're here; to become prepared for what the outside world has to offer. Literature and poetry most certainly have their place, and it's an important one. But a course devoted entirely to fairy tales? Quite frankly, I can't see any purpose for that apart from giving you a way to devote more time to your obsession," she continued, her gaze softening a bit. Granted, she still looked quite annoyed, but it was the thought that counted.

Ms. Bustier placed a hand on Ms. Mendeleiev's shoulder. "I understand where you're coming from. Really, I do. And I'll be the first to admit that I can get a bit...worked up over fairy tales. But I've been working to get this course approved for months, and my efforts are finally paying off. Besides, I truly think that it's going to be a wonderful way for the students to explore avenues of literature they never gave much thought to before. You can see that, can't you?"

After a moment, Ms. Mendeleiev sighed. "I suppose I can. But I'd be careful about spreading the news around too much. I heard Damocles in his office earlier, and he was muttering something fierce about having trouble finding a way to fit something in. Given that yours is the only new elective I can think of..."

"I'll worry about that if it comes up, but I've got a good feeling about this," Ms. Bustier said, smiling. "Now, want me to brew you a cup of tea? I have to stay late to get some work done, so I was about to make myself some."

"Only if you save some for Armand. I'm sure the man must be exhausted after a day of having to look after those children," Ms. Mendeleiev said, as the two walked out of the classroom.

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Marinette happened to live right across the street from College Francoise Dupont, above the Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie, which was widely considered to be the best bakery in Paris.

"Hello, Marinette," her mom greeted her as she came through the door. Sabine Cheng was a petite Chinese woman with Marinette's sparkling eyes. "How was school, dear?"

"It was great, mom," Marinette replied. "Ms. Bustier's starting a new elective class on fairy tales, and she wanted to order two dozen gingerbread men for tomorrow."

"Fairy tales?" her father said, peeking in from the kitchen. He was easily three times his wife's size, but you could tell by looking at him that he was a gentle giant. He had a small but well-trimmed mustache and Marinette's kind smile. "Gingerbread men? Sounds like a fun day!"

"Maybe we could throw in some candy apples, or pumpkin bread," Sabine suggested.

"Go easy, mom," Marinette warned. "I don't think Ms. Bustier wants a full-on party, and I don't want her thinking we're trying to inflate the bill. Anyway, I've got a report to write. See you! Let me know if you need any help!"

"Bye, Marinette!" Tom and Sabine said in unison as Marinette ascended the stairs, then the ladder to her room. It was a converted attic that housed her bed, desk, tv, and such. It was a little cramped at times, but Marinette preferred to think of it as "cozy". Photos of Adrien plastered one wall, his handsome face staring back at her from each one.

As Marinette sat down at her desk, a small creature, like a cross between a fairy and a ladybug, with a disproportionately large head and enormous blue eyes, flew out of her bag and up to her face.

"So, Marinette," it inquired. "Do you know which story you'll choose?"

"Not yet, Tikki," Marinette admitted, booting up her computer. "Let's take a look and see what we can find." she said as she glossed over several popular fairy tales. "Red Riding Hood, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Rapunzel...man, those Grimms really loved the 'damsel in distress' character, didn't they?"

"It was a common theme back then," Tikki sighed. "The Ladybug at the time tried to convince them to add something different, but they didn't want to appear too radical. They were more interested in collecting stories from the locals than coming up with original ones anyway."

Once again, Marinette was speechless at the casual revelation of Tikki's age. It was one thing to know in the abstract that she had been providing people with the power to transform into Ladybug, the costumed superhero currently protecting Paris from Hawk Moth and his akumas, since at least Ancient Egyptian times. But to know that she had interacted with historical figures like that...it boggled the mind.

"You really knew Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm?" Marinette asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, no," Tikki admitted. "I'm a kwami, and we're supposed to be kept secret. I was always either in Ladybug's bag or earrings when she talked to them, which wasn't often, anyway. Still, they were fairly nice people, especially after Ladybug saved them from whatever evil force was trying to harness their storytelling abilities."

"What do you mean?" Marinette asked.

"Stories have power, Marinette, and so does belief," Tikki said. "The Brothers Grimm didn't have any magic to speak of, but their ability to gather and popularize old folktales was a magic in and of itself. There were plenty of unsavory forces who wanted to use that. If they were to enter into a story, and it were to be told and retold, they could have harnessed that belief to increase their power, maybe even become immortal. Luckily they never succeeded, because whatever they ended up doing, it wouldn't have been good for the Grimms or the world.

"But enough about that. You should get this report done as soon as possible. See any good stories? I was always partial to Thumbelina, myself," Tikki finished, giggling.

Marinette giggled, too. For all that Tikki was a being of incredible power, she was also sweet, caring, and a bit of a goofball. Those traits helped make the moments of ancient wisdom much less unsettling than they could have been. "Well, what kind of stories did they tell before the Grimms came along?"

Tikki shrugged. "Myths, mostly. Plenty of cultures had folktales and stories that would eventually be categorized as fairy tales, but much of what was told back then were what people today consider myths. Lots of religious stories turned into modern fairy tales with the advent of new religions, you know."

"For example?"

"Well, there's Cupid and Psyche. Nowadays it's seen as another version of Beauty and the Beast, with some Cinderella and even a little Sleeping Beauty. But it originally came from an ancient Roman novel, and was based in the religious beliefs at the time. It wasn't a fairy tale, but a religious allegory told to highlight a scene in the book. And even before that, the characters appeared in Greek artwork from as early as six hundred years before the novel was written. While it's seen as a fairy tale now, back then, it had a great deal more relevance."

"Interesting," Marinette said, pulling up a word processor. "Ms. Bustier wasn't kidding about fairy tales being complex. It's too bad that most of the class didn't seem to think so."

"You can't blame them too much," Tikki responded. "Ms. Bustier's a good teacher, but even I could see that the lesson was more of a way for her to show what she knew, instead of something really meant to teach them. They still should have paid more attention, but I understand why they didn't."

"Is that such a bad thing? It's something she's really passionate about, so she deserves a chance to talk about it every once in a while. And now that she has this course, she'll be able to talk about it as much as she wants."

"Yep!" Tikki said brightly.

"Now, think you can tell me the story? I think I've got the subject for my report."

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"No, Plagg!" Adrien insisted to his own kwami, who looked like a cross between a fairy and a black cat, with big green eyes and a sly grin. "I'm not doing my report on 'The Boy Who Wanted More Cheese'!"

"Aw, why not?" Plagg demanded, taking another bite of his wedge of camembert.

Adrien sighed. Plagg was a good friend, and he was unimaginably grateful to him for providing the opportunity to let his true self loose as Cat Noir, assistant defender of Paris alongside his beloved Ladybug. But most of the time, he was useless when it came to anything outside of turning him into a superhero and eating ridiculous amounts of cheese. "Because it speaks to you, not me," he replied. "And because literally no one else has ever heard of it before. I don't want to pick something obvious, but that story is way too out there."

The two of them were housed in Adrien's palace of a bedroom at Agreste Manor, digging through the bookshelves of the second floor to find a suitable story for Adrien's report. So far, they'd been having little luck.

"Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty," Adrien said, flipping through his old storybooks. "An awful lot of romance in these stories."

"Fashion of the time, I guess," Plagg said. "Hey, why don't you pick one of them and talk about how it makes you think of Ladybug? I'm sure you'd be able to write a page on that in no time!"

Adrien blushed and swatted Plagg aside. "No way I'd blow my secret identity over something as silly as a school project!" he snapped. "I just need something with values I strongly believe in."

"Like what?"

"You know, being true to yourself, determination, that sort of thing."

Adrien's fingers ran over a thin book caked with dust. Interested, he pulled it out and took a look. "Oh, I remember this! Mom used to read it to me when I was little."

"'The Steadfast Tin Soldier'?" Plagg asked, reading the title aloud. "I remember that one. Isn't that pretty romantic, too?"

"There's more to it than that, Plagg!" Adrien snapped. "It's about overcoming adversity! You know, I think I've found the subject for my report…"

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"So, Caline," inquired tall, thin gym teacher Mr. Armand D'Argencourt, twirling his already curly mustache. "How many students do you expect to take your elective?"

Ms. Bustier took a moment to blow on her tea as she thought about her answer. "That's difficult to say," she replied. "I'd aim high. You know students - if they think it'll be an easy class, they'll come flocking. Don't worry, though; I intend to give out plenty of assignments."

The three of them were seated around a table in the teachers' lounge, and Ms. Bustier was alternating between drinking her tea, chatting with her fellow teachers, and flipping through her massive leather-bound collection of fairy tales, coming up with various lesson plans.

"On what, though? I would think that analyzing these stories would be very cut and dry, would it not? Especially for the more common ones," Ms. Mendeleiev asked, taking a sip from her own cup.

"You'd be surprised. It's the same as with any other form of literature; there are as many different potential interpretations as there are readers. Besides, I have a wide selection to choose from, so I'm sure I'll be able to stump most of them at one point or another," Ms. Bustier said, tapping the cover of her collection.

"Hm," Mr. D'Argencourt mused, staring at the book. "Perhaps there is some merit to such a class."

"Speaking of that, Caline," Ms. Mendeleiev said, also looking at the book, "I've been wondering, where did you get that book? It seems quite old, and quite valuable."

Ms. Bustier smiled. "I'm not sure about valuable, but you're right about it being old. It's something of a family heirloom. Have you ever heard of Andrew Lang?"

"Yes, actually," Mr. D'Argencourt said. "My family kept a copy of his works in the house. He was one of the first major fairy tale collectors of the modern age, right? Published them in his 'Fairy Books,' if I'm remembering correctly."

"Yep," Ms. Bustier replied. "Supposedly, my great-great-grandfather actually knew him closely, and as a result was given this specially produced collection of several of his stories. Personally, I think it's more likely that he picked this up in some old bookstore somewhere, but it definitely looks the part. I guess you can say that this is what inspired me to start studying fairy tales to begin with."

"Quite a claim to fame," Ms. Mendeleiev commented. "And you're sure you want to bring it into a school? There's quite a lot that could happen to damage it."

"Like I said, I don't really care about the value," Ms. Bustier told her. "I'm always very careful with it, but as long as the print stays legible and the pictures stay clear, I can handle it getting banged up. Besides, this book is pretty sturdy. It's taken a fair bit of abuse over the years, being dropped and tossed around. It can handle a classroom full of rowdy teens or," she said, chuckling, "being kept near three teachers drinking tea."

The aforesaid teachers all shared a good laugh over that, before returning to their tea. After a few minutes, though. Ms. Bustier got up, tucking her book under her arm.

"Leaving so soon, Caline?" Mr. D'Argencourt asked.

"The opposite, in fact," she replied. "Damocles has a meeting with the school board tonight, so he asked me to stick around and lock up after the janitors leave, which won't be until late tonight. Since this means I'm going to be staying here for the next several hours, I figured I'd get a head start on some grading and planning. See you two tomorrow, alright?"

"You know, we could stay with you a little longer and help out if you'd like," Ms. Mendeleiev said. "We don't have anywhere to be for a little while."

"Don't worry about it!" Ms. Bustier said. "I'll be fine, trust me. Besides, I'm sure you have better things to do than sit around and grade French papers. You two head on home."

"Alright," Ms. Mendeleiev said as she and Mr. D'Argencourt got up from their chairs. "See you tomorrow, Caline. And remember what I told you about Damocles."

"Will do," Ms. Bustier said as she walked out the door. "Will do."

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"And finished!" Marinette said, typing the last word into her document. "One page on Cupid and Psyche, ready to go!"

"Great work, Marinette!" Tikki chirped, flying over to read over the report. "I'm sure Ms. Bustier will love the topic you chose!"

"Well, you're the one who mentioned how many fairy tales it was similar to," Marinette replied, rubbing the back of her head. "Once I started looking it up, it was pretty easy to make an argument about its connections. Plus, it showed me some more obscure stories, which I'm sure will give me extra points with Ms. Bustier." She looked it over one more time, then smiled. "Looks like a perfect grade to me! Now, think mom and dad need some help with the cookies?"

"I doubt they'd say no!" Tikki said. "Even if they don't, could you sneak a few up for me?"

"Sure thing," Marinette said, laughing. Tikki had an appetite for freshly-baked pastries, with cookies in particular being her favorite. She was lucky she lived in a bakery, otherwise there might have been more cause for alarm with how many pastries she was snatching.

As Marinette descended the ladder to the bakery, her parents were just closing up.

"How'd the day go?" she asked.

"Busy as always," Sabine replied, smiling. "We've got quite a reputation. And you?"

"Finished my work pretty quickly, so I wanted to come down and see if you guys needed any help with tomorrow's baking."

"We'd never say no to the help," Tom said, "but we've actually finished for the day. But we could wake you up early tomorrow so you can handle those gingerbread men your teacher asked for. They're for you and your friends anyway, and it'd let us focus on some of the bigger orders."

"Sure thing!" Marinette said. She snagged a few cookies from a nearby tray for Tikki, then climbed back up the ladder, closing the trapdoor behind her. "Here you go," she said, handing the cookies over to the kwami.

"Thanks, Marinette!" Tikki said, giggling as she dug into a chocolate chip-covered treat. "You know," she said between bites. "I was thinking about what you said about the other kids in your class and their lack of interest. Maybe there's something you could do to help."

Marinette raised an eyebrow. "Like what? I'm already bringing cookies to class."

Tikki flitted back and settled into a reclining position. "Not just any cookies, Marinette. These are gingerbread men. As in, cookies that people love to personalize. You see where I'm going with this?"

Marinette blinked and a grin spread across her face. "That's a good idea, Tikki!" she complemented. "Personalized gingerbread men sound perfect! I'm sure they're all going to love them! I'll get on it first thing in the morning!"

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Ms. Bustier continued grading papers and thinking up assignments into the night, growing more and more excited as she did so.

Compare and contrast Snow White's character in Snowdrop versus Snow-White and Rose-Red, she thought proudly as she flipped through her storybook. Yes, that'll be perfect. And examining Cinderella stories from around the world will make for a whole week of lessons!

She was snapped out of her reverie when her cellphone began to ring. Looking at the caller ID, she saw that it was Principal Damocles.

"Hello, principal," Ms. Bustier greeted. "How was the meeting?"

Principal Damocles heaved a deep sigh in response, and Ms. Bustier's face fell. Nobody ever sighs like that when they have good news.

"I'm afraid the budget has had some unexpected cuts, Caline," the principal said, his voice heavy with disappointment. "Mayor Bourgeois has shifted city funds, and not toward our school."

"You don't mean -?"

"Rest assured, Caline, you and the rest of the staff will remain employed and at your current salaries. But I'm afraid," he continued, sighing again, "that we can no longer afford any new courses."

Ms. Bustier was silent for a moment, then sat up straight, stunned. "No!" she objected, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. "Please, I've been petitioning this for months! You can't take it away when I'm so close!"

"Caline, this is for the best. Honestly, I was probably going to have to tell you 'no' anyway. There's just no real room for a course like that here, especially when you seem to be the only one interested in the subject."

"Please!" Ms. Bustier pled. "There must be a way for me to change your mind!"

"Believe me, I would be more than open to hear you try, but my misgivings aren't the reason the course is canceled; the funding is. I'm simply the messenger. I'm sorry, but I can't see a way for you to start this course."

The phone clicked off, and Ms. Bustier put it down absently. After a few moments, the tears started rolling down her cheeks in earnest. Just cognizant enough to close her storybook and push it slightly away, she collapsed onto her desk, weeping softly.

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Up in a tower room, surrounded by hundreds of white butterflies, a tall, gaunt man in a dark suit and a silver mask stared out a massive circular vaulted window.

"Yes," Hawk Moth, the man responsible for torturing Paris with his akumas, chuckled. "Conflict is truly the essence of all drama; no story can exist without it. No beloved character can ever have it easy. No, they must earn their happy ending." He held out his hand, and a butterfly settled into it. He placed his other hand over the insect, concentrating dark energy within, and when he removed his hand, the butterfly was unharmed, but now black as ink.

"Fly, my little akuma, and evilize this fairytale dreamer!"

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Ms. Bustier kept sobbing, her head resting on the desk. Intellectually, she knew it was ridiculous to react like this. Things could have turned out much worse for her and for the other teachers. But she had been working on this course for months. She'd wanted to share her love of fairy tales with the students, to prove that they had as much value as other literature. And now it was to be taken away before it even began? It just hurt too much.

As she wept, her hand lying on her storybook, she failed to notice the small black butterfly flying in through the classroom window. It settled down on the book, glowing for a moment before dissolving into pitch-dark energy, which was then absorbed into the book. Suddenly, Ms. Bustier lifted her head off the desk, revealing the butterfly-shaped mask of light which appeared around her eyes.

"Frau Märchen," a voice said inside her mind, "I am Hawk Moth. I shall grant you the power to transform the world into your own personal fairy tale. With it, you may take revenge on those who have wronged you, and control those who fail to understand the power that these stories have to offer. In return, however, I ask that you bring me the Miraculouses of Ladybug and Cat Noir. Do you accept this charge?"

"Absolutely," she whispered, smiling. She stood up from her desk, grasping her book tightly as black energy spread from it, covering her entire body in darkness. After a few moments, the energy dissipated, leaving her looking entirely different.

"Ah, now this is power," Frau Märchen said, her voice bearing taken seductive undertones. With a flourish of her hand, she transformed her book into an ornate hand mirror, clear glass set in a gold frame with butterfly designs.

"Mirror mirror, if you know," she said, "show the faces of my foes."

With a flash of light, the mirror projected two screens into the air. Unfortunately, they were both practically blank, showing nothing but a ladybug on one and a black cat on the other, both with question marks next to them.

"Should have known it wouldn't be that easy," she muttered. "Oh well. I'll be fine to wait until tomorrow."

With a snap of her fingers, the mirror and screens disappeared, with the book taking their place. Another snap, and Frau Märchen's body was coated in darkness once more, fading to reveal Ms. Bustier's regular appearance, albeit with a sinister smirk still present.

"Now, there's no time to waste. I must get ready for tomorrow," she said.

Another butterfly-mask of light appeared over her eyes. "And what is your plan, Frau Märchen?" Hawk Moth asked.

"Well, it's obvious, is it not?" she replied. "The best way to get Ladybug and Cat Noir to show up is to cause a disturbance. And I think that making this place the center of my kingdom will be a very big disturbance indeed."