Chapter Text
Even though she would never admit it, Marinette could remember every detail of the night she met Chat Noir.
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Marinette was barely 8 years old when her parents, Tom and Sabine, were tragically killed in a fire at their small home bakery. Marinette had escaped with nothing but the clothes on her back and a small stuffed toy lovingly named Tikki her mother had sewn for her first birthday.
Now it was days before her eighteenth birthday and she lived a servants existence in the attic of her foster family's home.
When she was young, she was grateful for the roof over her head and food on her table (or more often than not; the food scraps at her feet). But as she grew older, she wished for resentment against the cruel woman who took her in and locked her away from the world, and the two sisters, and they insisted she call them that, who would mock her relentlessly. But for Marinette, the resentment never grew past a prick in her throat.
You see, kindness was embedded in her blood and formed the only identity of herself Marinette had known. Her mother insisted that she stay kind to all people she met, no matter how nasty or cruel. "Where there is kindness, there is magic" Sabine had cooed, lithe fingers braiding a young Marinette's hair.
Her mother, who always smelled of bread and spices, was the kindest woman you would live to meet. A woman with soft eyes and an open heart, who took bread out to the beggars on the street each morning, and soup each night.
Marinette remembered the smooth tone of her voice as they walked along the cool streets one summers morning. "Why must I always be kind?" Marinette had asked, lifting her skirt to step over a young boy's feet. Sabine had placed a warm hand on her shoulder, stopping her and placing a loaf of fresh, warm bread in her hands, cocking her head towards the boy, before stepping back to allow Marinette to place the loaf in his lap. "It is easy to hate, to be unkind to another person." Sabine smiled, pushing the boys blonde hair away from his eyes as she dropped to her knees. "But it is easier to love, much easier to be kind." The boy lifted his eyes as Sabine stroked his hair, smiling as he lifted the loaf to his mouth with shaky hands, not before offering a crooked smile, green eyes sparkling as he ate. She stood once again and took Marinette's hand, placing her other thumb against the young girls cheek, offering a soft swipe. "In this life, kind people do not always face the easiest path, but kindness is good, and good always triumphs evil." Sabine stepped away, continuing her daily dance down the dirty streets of Paris. Marinette could feel the warm air that blew on her face that morning, even now, when that day was nothing but a distant memory.
But it does not do one good to dwell on the past, Madame Bourgeois would mutter, putting her back to work with a new chore, despite Marinette's aching feet and heart. Chloe and Sabrina would laugh, comparing her to a young Cosette from Les Miserables (Marinette's favourite and only book of which they tore apart and tossed into the fire no less than a month ago) as they believed that they were prettier and that Marinette's head was always in the clouds. But Marinette was sweet and remained kind and could do nothing more than turn her cheek, which only infuriated her sisters more and the taunting would continue throughout the day, becoming more relentless as Chloe became more aggressive. Eventually they would tire themselves out, and Marinette would be left alone to do as she pleased before once again being locked in the dusty attic.
At the request of Madame Bourgeois, Marinette was not to leave the house, and she hadn't once since the day she arrived, with the exception of her birthdays, were she was allowed to walk into town and buy a single sweet to enjoy. On those days, she was free to dream to her hearts content, to offer a smile and a "Good Morning!" To all those she passed. These were the days Marinette most enjoyed, the days where she was free and alive. Marinette would dream of her birthdays, the smell of grass, a blue sky, a soft meadow where she would lay and just feel the sun, soak it deep into her bones, just enough to last a year.
As this year was a special occasion, she hoped Madame Bourgeois would allow her to stay out a while longer, dreamt of the endless possibilities those few more hours of freedom would bring. She could visit a tavern and have a meal instead of a single sweet. She could browse a boutique and feel the soft silk between her fingers. She could stumble across a handsome and fair prince who would fall in love with her and sweep her off her feet, taking away from her awful family and riding into the sunset. A lonely girl could only dream.
But Marinette knew in her heart that Madame Bourgeois would never agree to such an idea, so she never asked, keeping the idea locked safely in her mind for further daydreaming.
Instead she had begun collecting coins from beneath the furniture, from tabletops and nooks and crannies. The cook had given her as many as he could find beneath the stove, and the maids as many as they could sneak from her sisters vanities. And although Marintte felt wrong about stealing, the servants insisted that she accept them as gifts for her kindness to them through the years. Marinette had planned to sneak out much earlier in the morning, before the very crack of dawn, and spend those early morning hours doing what she pleases. She thought to buy herself a loaf of bread and lay in her favourite meadow and enjoy the whole thing by herself! Then she could spend the day wandering freely until an hour before supper when she had to return. Although she may suffer the consequences of leaving unannounced, surely they'd be less harsh then those she would face if she were to miss curfew.
Now she sat enveloped by the fullness of her ratty working skirt, and weaved the small blunt needle through the fabric. She let out a small yelp when she pricked her finger, quickly popping the digit into her mouth to avoid another mess to clean. She had almost finished sewing together a purse that she could use to hold her coins and hide under her skirt so it would not be found by Madame Bourgeois or the curious hands of her nosy sisters. She chuckled to herself, humming a tune as she pushed the needle back through the other side of the fabric (of which she cut from her own skirt). She had begun to reach for a new length of thread when her sisters burst into the attic, sending Marinette into a frenzied panic as she frantically hid her creation.
"Marinette. Mother has some exciting news! Come down quick!" Chloe yelled from the doorway. Marinette nodded and rose to her knees, dusting her skirt and tucking the purse and sewing materials back under the floorboard she had popped up. Chloe huffed as Marinette scrambled to gather herself, before slamming the door impatiently and screeching from the stairwell for her to hurry up. So Marinette did what she did best (what she was told) and followed Chloe and Sabrina's path down the steps, through the halls and into the dining room to find the two girls standing expectantly in front of their mother, who looked every part the evil witch from Chloe and Sabrina's fairytale books.
"Marinette, so kind of you to finally join us." Madame Bourgeois had sneered, causing Chloe to burst into a fit of giggle which Marinette dutifully ignored. She offered a polite curtesy as an apology and fell into line next to the two girls. Madame Bourgeois looked down at them with icy blue eyes before her red lips parted into a toothy grin. "My daughters, my beautiful, lovely daughters." Marinette couldn't help but bite her lip to suppress a smile, because even though she was unkind, at least Madame, deep down, did love her like she loved her own daughters. Marinette's heart swelled with pride as she looked up through her lashes at the woman. "-And Marinette of course, sweet, simple, homely Marinette." If there was a way to describe how quickly Marinette's heart crumbled, she was yet to discover it, so she simply blinked away the prickle of hot tears and nodded her head curtly. Madame Bourgeois continued swiftly, stepping back towards the elegant dining table to retrieve her tea cup. She took a soft sip from the beautifully detailed China before turning back to the three girls, cup steady as her smile returned. "We have been invited to the Prince's birthday ball, where his father will select a suitable candidate for marriage. Both of you-" Madame placed a hand lovingly over her heart. "Are eligible candidates, and one of you will soon become a Princess." Madame Bourgeois spread her arms in a dramatic motion.
Marinette was unsure of how long they stood in stunned silence before Chloe positively erupted into tears, as she would finally become the princess she was destined to be. Marinette stood to the side and watched the girls as they began to plan their strategy to catch the Prince's eye, and was almost hyper aware of three things. One, the ball most definitely fell on her birthday. Two, she was obviously not invited, nor was she eligible for marriage. And three, the hot tears that had prickled before were now streaming down her face. She lifted a hand, wiping the tears away with the pad of her thumb before straightening her back. Madame Bourgeois turned and handed her a long roll of parchment, on which included every chore she had to complete on the day of the ball. She quietly excused herself, and headed back to her room, only when she had reached the small dirty mattress she called a bed did she allow the tears to fall, allow her to curl in upon herself and cry.
A year of waiting, of dreaming suddenly snatched from her hands in seconds, and Marinette could still not muster up the ability to hate her new family. She didn't feel kind, she felt stupid. She was a stupid, foolish girl who should have never taken her mothers stupid, foolish advice. And as quick as those thoughts arose, they were dashed with sharp pangs of guilt. 'You are just upset Marinette, disappointed about all that is happened. Don't taint the memories of your mother with such unkind thoughts.' A soft voice spoke from the back of her mind. She liked to imagine that the small voice of reason in her head was not in fact her subconscious, but actually that of Tikki, her only toy, only friend and only tether to her old life, who had somehow magically come to life inside her mind.
Marinette stood from her bed and looked out her window, she didn't know how long she had been crying, but now it had become dark, and she could imagine close to midnight, and when the guilt in her stomach had receded, it was replaced by adrenalin and she knew that she would not be able to sleep.
Instead she set to work finishing her coin purse in record speed and quickly and soundlessly filling it. At the very least, she could begin saving for next year, and have an extravagant day all her own. But the thought of that didn't satisfy Marinette and she craved more. She craved adventure and excitement and more.
She craved freedom.
Twelve minutes before the clock struck midnight, Marinette crept from her room after pricking the lock with her sewing needle and a whole lot of hope. She tiptoed to the front door, and slowly placed her hand on the cool metal handle before giving a sturdy tug and- nothing. The doors were locked and she had no idea how to pick them. She slapped a hand to her forehead before looking around the large home, eyes flickering over all exits, doors, windows, and chimneys. She had just hatched a plan to escape by crawling under the house from the hatch beneath the stairwell when Madame Bourgeois turned the corner. Marinette froze, her heart pounded in her chest as she leapt into the shadows of the next room and hurriedly climbing back up the stairs to the attic. Once there, she locked he door behind her and prayed silently before she slowly cranked open the rusty window frame and evaluated her options, she saw no other choice but to jump, and to aim for the soft bushes below and hope she landed safely. 'Be free or die trying has always been your mentality, I suppose.' Tikki giggled, and Marinette laughed softly too. She then drew in a deep breath, swinging her legs over the windowsill on into the cool night air, and on the count of three, she pushed herself out from the ledge and prepared for impact.
But impact never came and now Marinette could feel the warmth of someone's strong arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders and knees. She opened her scrunched eyes to meet a evenly wide pair of catlike emerald green ones, and they were painted with concern. Once her heart rate and breathing returned to normal, despite the fact he was still holding her and still looking deep into her eyes, she drew a breath and whispered her thanks, throwing her arms around his neck and enveloping him in a hug, during which he stiffened slightly. When she drew away, he relaxed and smiled crookedly.
"Well it's not every day mew get to save the most beautiful girl in the land from falling to her death."