CHAPTER THREE:

FAMILY, FRIENDS AND FUTURES

Marinette entered the front door of her parents' two-story home, the overhanging bell jingling brightly in the darkness.

The main floor served as the walk-in bakery, and judging from the lack of customers and lantern light, they had already closed shop for the day. That only left the second level – the living space of the Dupain-Chengs.

A fluttering of footsteps sounded from above. "Marinette? Is that you?" sang a delicate female voice.

"Yes, Maman. I'm home," Marinette called back solemnly.

She locked the door and trudged up the stairs. The rickety wooden boards screeched under her feet. The noise went well with the pit of sadness in Marinette's chest. After the incident with Chloe, Alya and Nino had treated her to some hearty music and a warm pint of cider. Although she was forever grateful to have wonderful, supportive friends like them, Marinette could not easily ignore the hateful words that Chloe had burned into her memory.

Who would bother caring about something as low as that?

She hated being treated this way. She hated feeling helpless and useless. But what was she to do about it? It was her word – a commoner's word – against the word of the mayor's precious little princess. As much as Marinette wanted retribution, she knew acting out of anger was not the answer, nor would it change the people's perspective of her.

So, Marinette took a deep breath and inhaled the lingering smells of fresh bread, cinnamon, cloves and melted butter, held it all in for two seconds, and then let it out with a soft smile. Much better.

She reached the second floor, which was nothing more than a kitchen, a dining area and a bedroom all meshed together into one room. Her parents' bed was tucked snugly into one corner, while Marinette's cot stood by the circular window overlooking the town. There was also a fireplace, where a large soup pot was boiling over a steady fire, a small dining table with three chairs (one of which was wobbly and in need of fixing), and two trunks overstuffed with clothes.

It was definitely an eyesore, but it was still home – filled with simple food, a warm fire, and love.

Tom was lading the soup into three bowls. He paused to glance over his shoulder and smile at his daughter from underneath his thick, brown mustache. "Ah, Marinette! You're just in time for dinner. Wash up and take a seat. Sabine, can you get the bread?"

His wife – a petite woman with hair like Marinette's and eyes of deep silver – sprang to attention and carried the cutting board over to the kitchen table so she could slice the small loaf of bread. Baked fresh, as always.

Marinette placed her basket beside her father, taking her book out as Tom thanked her. Then, she put the book with her small collection under her bed and went to the wash basin to clean herself up.

"How was work today, dear?" Sabine asked, dishing out a slice of bread onto each plate. "Did you have a good time?"

Marinette shrugged as she soaked the washcloth. "I'm almost done with that bridal gown, and Mrs. Mendeleiev came in asking for a new spring hat."

"At the start of winter?" her mother inquired.

"She likes to be prepared. Anyway, she couldn't decide between flowers or ribbons. I suggested both, and showed her some combinations that would go well with her eyes." Marinette dabbed herself a few more times before drying her hands on her dress and taking a seat at the dinner table. "She liked three of them, and took the samples home with her so she could think about it."

"Well, that's good," Tom said as he sat down. His chair (the wobbly one) protested to his great weight. Tall, broad-shouldered and muscular, the baker looked like a brown-haired giant at first glance. But once you got a good look at him, you would see a cuddly bear who loved his family and enjoyed treating his customers.

After a few slurps of soup, Tom looked back up at Marinette and asked the question she had been dreading to hear. "Did you have a good time at the market?"

Marinette swallowed, the cream-of-onion suddenly gnarly in her mouth.

She loved her parents very much, and she didn't want to burden them with another grueling tale of Chloe Bourgeois. Tom had a habit of being overprotective, and he could get angry at anyone who caused trouble for his family, no matter whose daughter it was. The last thing Marinette wanted was for her father to make a public scene with Mayor Bourgeois, and who knows what Chloe would whisper in her father's ear just to make herself look like the victim.

"I… I got a new book today," she offered pleasantly, "and then I hung out with Alya and Nino." She caught her mother's discerning eye, but didn't dare meet it. "Which reminds me: Madame Bustier was wondering if you wanted to meet up for dinner later this week."

Sabine took the hint that her daughter wanted desperately to change the subject, so she replied with a smile, "We'd love to. In fact, Tom, we should fix up that Secret Soufflé of yours."

"That's a splendid idea!" Tom exclaimed. "It's been a while since we've spoken with Caline… and she's never tried my famous Secret Soufflé!"

Marinette gave her mother a look of gratitude before digging back into her dinner. She felt like a soufflé herself – all sad and deflated from having to hide the truth from her parents. But Marinette knew she could handle Chloe. She would endure all the taunting and humiliation for the rest of her life if need be, as long as her parents didn't suffer for it.

Once the dishes were washed and put away, Tom went downstairs to double-check the inventory for tomorrow while Marinette got dressed for bed.

She barely made it to the small cot by her window before her mother approached her with a knowing gaze. "Now, tell me what really happened today," she said gently. "Trouble with Chloe again?"

Marinette sighed, that painful lump in her chest returning. "She… talked about you this time."

Her mother's eyes blinked, but they showed no sign of distress.

Sabine Cheng was born the daughter of a wealthy merchant from Paris. But that had all changed almost eighteen years ago, when she left her family and her dowry behind and came to Villeneuve. Even though she was seventeen now, Marinette still hadn't heard the whole story of why her mother had run away. Some of the townsfolk believed Sabine had fled from an arranged marriage – a common occurrence amongst noble women. Others whispered there had been a great big scandal involving the local baker boy, Tom Dupain – one that Monsieur Cheng, Marinette's grandfather, tried to cover up. A few argued that he had disowned his daughter long before she even met Tom.

Whatever the reasons, Marinette believed her mother left for the right ones. Sabine was kind, loving and wise. She could never be painted as a disgrace in her daughter's eyes.

"People talk all the time," Sabine said, brushing her hand over Marinette's shoulder. "In a place such as this, the one thing people look forward to is gossip. You just can't let it bother you. Someone will say one thing today, and someone else will say it tomorrow, but then the next day they'll say something different." She grinned. "Even when I was a girl in Paris, people liked to talk about me all the time. Until one day, a few of them found themselves imitating me."

Marinette nodded sadly, and took her mother's hand. She met her eyes. As mother and daughter, they were both so different, yet so similar. Marinette knew she could tell her mother anything and never be judged for it. Why couldn't it be the other way around? "Please, Maman… tell me just one thing about Paris. About… what happened."

The luster in Sabine's eyes was snuffed out like a candle, but she maintained her calm character. Sighing, she beckoned her daughter to sit on the bed beside her. The moon was out tonight and, against the backdrop of clouds and snow, it made the entire village light up. That same light illuminated the pale sadness on Sabine's face.

Finally, after what felt like minutes of silence, her mother spoke softly, "I had a good life. I thought it would stay that way if I stayed in Paris. I was wrong." She reached up to touch Marinette's cheek. "I decided I didn't want anyone to decide what was best for me… what they thought was best for me. So, I came here with your father, and then we had you, and both of us have been the happier for it."

Marinette tried not to look disappointed. It wasn't quite the full story, and her mother knew it, but Sabine obviously didn't want to go too deep into her past. It must have really been terrible if she will barely speak of it, Marinette thought. She squeezed her mother's hand caringly.

That's when Sabine pulled something out of her apron with her other hand.

Marinette recognized it at once: a small, green music box with golden metal workings along the edges, and the initials "SC" inscribed on the top. The wood was worn-out and faded in several places, but it still had a special place in her mother's heart… and Marinette's.

Sabine smiled and open the lid. At once, the cogs and wheels inside began spinning, and the little metal comb strummed along the studded cylinder. The chimes it made came together to form a beautiful song.

"Your lullaby," Marinette said, smiling.

"Our lullaby." Sabine held for both of them to see. Then, as the main melody chimed in, she sang sweetly:

"How does a moment last forever?

How can a story never die?

It is love we must hold onto

Never easy, but we try."

Marinette joined her mother with her own soft soprano:

"Sometimes a happiness is captured.

Somehow, a time and place stand still.

Love lives on inside our hearts

And always will."

The music quieted and slowed down, and Sabine closed the box. "I have no regrets in my life, Marinette," she said, "because I have the one thing that will never go away: my love for you and your father. Sometimes, a simple life is the best life. And simple… is safe."

Marinette wished with all her heart she could believe that. She wanted to. But that longing inside her continued to burn steady, and not even her mother's words could snuff it out. Marinette wrapped her arms around Sabine and pulled her close.

"Never let go of what really matters," her mother murmured against her neck, "and you will never be ashamed of who you are."

Marinette nodded, and gazed out the window at the glowing landscape of snow, brick rooftops, chimney smoke and trees.

If she looked far enough, she could see the edge of the world. A world without limits. A world of possibilities. A world that would accept a girl like her.

Maybe, just maybe, there were such things.


The next morning, the sun was shining bright, the sky was a clear robin's egg blue, and Marinette felt ready to take on another day.

When she went for her lunch break, Marinette decided to head out to the town square, taking her fairy tale book with her. Almost everyone was busy unloading shipments of food and blankets to stock up for the winter, so they were too busy to notice the odd, blue-haired girl reading by the grand fountain.

Marinette was in the midst of reading "Little Red Riding Hood" when she heard a tiny voice call to her, "What are you doing?"

She looked up and spotted Manon, the five-year-old daughter of Nadja, the widowed laundress. Nadja was a nice woman, but a traditional one who had resorted to bringing her daughter to work with her after her husband died. Manon was carrying a small bundle of blankets in her little arms, but her big, brown eyes loomed curiously at the book in Marinette's hands.

The blunette smiled. "Reading," she said casually. "Would you like to hear a story?"

Manon gaped at her as though she were being offered a croissant.

Marinette beckoned her over. "Come."

And for half an hour, Marinette and little Manon sat together on the edge of the frozen fountain. The little girl's arms were propped up on top of her pile of blankets as she followed along with the words and pictures. When the story was finished, Marinette decided to show Manon some basic words. Turns out, the child was a fast learner.

"All right," Marinette said, pointing at one of the sentences. "Now, put all the words together. Ready? "The Big Bad…""

""The Big Bad… Wolf…"" Manon said, squinting at the page. ""…rrrr… ra… ran…"

"Very good."

" "ran… th… throw…"

"Through," Marinette corrected.

Manon giggled. ""Through… the dark… wood"."

Marinette beamed at her. "Great job! That was amazing!"

The little girl grinned proudly, flashing her big buck teeth.

"Manon! What on earth are you doing?"

The pair looked up to see Nadja, a tall crane of a woman with dark reddish hair, shooting daggers at Marinette with those hard brown eyes.

Manon didn't seem as distressed as Marinette was. "Mama!" she cheered. "I'm learning how to read, just like Marinette!"

Marinette quickly closed her book and straightened in her spot. "I was only showing her a few words," she insisted.

"Manon," Nadja broke in, clearly uninterested, "come here at once. We're going home."

"But, Mama –"

"At once, young lady!" Nadja's voice cracked, causing several heads to turn in their direction.

"What's going on here?" boomed a deep, cold voice.

Oh, great. Marinette stiffened as Monsieur Damocles, the school headmaster, approached in all his bulky, bearded glory. Together with those leering eyes and that frazzled grey hair, he looked like a storm cloud.

"Well, well, well… Look who it is," Damocles announced for all to hear, a thick sneer on his face. "The lowborn literate."

Marinette frowned at him. The headmaster had always been insulted by the fact that a girl somehow figured out how to read all by herself.

"Teaching another poor girl to read? Isn't one bad enough?"

Some of the onlookers whispered in agreement, most of them old men and women.

Marinette stood up, willing her spine into a steel rod. "Perhaps if you would try to teach a girl, you'd be surprised how quickly they learn," she stated boldly.

Damocles bristled. "Insolent child! Perhaps if you would hold your tongue more often, you wouldn't be so – !"

"That's enough, Headmaster," a bold voice spoke out like the strokes of a drum, silencing the crowd.

The sea of bodies parted, and in marched Theo Barbot – the Champion of Villeneuve, to which he was commonly referred. He definitely looked like it, with those hunter leathers and that quiver full of black-fletched arrows. He strolled over to where Marinette stood, his brown eyes harsh as a raging tide against the shore.

His two partners, Max and Kim, walked beside him, clapping their hands like they were trying to scare away a flock of chickens.

"Okay, people. Come on. Make a lane," Max called in a bored manner.

"One side, one side," Kim howled. "Don't make me say it twice."

Theo looked at Marinette and smiled at her. His eyes were etched with a deep, reverent look that Marinette knew too well. It wasn't that she didn't like Theo. Merely… she knew what that look meant, and it always made her feel uncomfortable.

Theo addressed the crowd like a general to his troops. "You should all be ashamed of yourselves," he declared, earning a collective gasp from the townsfolk. "This is not how normal people behave. Marinette didn't mean any harm, so there is no cause for concern." He eyeballed Damocles again, this time with something like cold amusement. "Am I making myself clear, Headmaster?"

Damocles's face turned beet-red behind his grey beard, and he made a noise that sounded like he was choking on his own phlegm.

Theo turned back to the crowd. "All right, everyone. Return to your business, if you would be so kind."

It took a few seconds for the people to process the hunter's words. Finally, they all dispersed in different directions, murmuring to each other.

Nadja glowered at Marinette before eyeing her daughter. "Manon, don't make me tell you again." She jabbed a finger at her feet.

The little girl hung her head down and gave Marinette a glossy-eyed pout before scooping up her blankets and hustling over to her mother's side.

The younger ladies in the crowd flashed bashful smiles at Theo before sauntering off, as though they had just seen a knight in shining armour coming to rescue a fair maiden. Marinette was just grateful they were now leaving her alone.

Still, it made her fluster to know that she had been scolded in public, and all just for teaching a little girl how to read! She brushed the snow off her dress and marched off without another word.

"Marinette, wait!" Theo called, sprinting to her side at once. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Theo," Marinette said as she walked on, not meeting his eyes. "I appreciate the help, but I can handle myself."

"Don't worry about the headmaster," the hunter said, obviously not taking the hint. "He never liked me either. I understand what it's like to be scolded by him."

Marinette sighed between her teeth and grounded to a halt. "It's not fair! All I did was try to teach a child how to read!" She swiped a hand through the air. "And they all just stood there and looked at me like I was some kind of criminal!"

Theo's mouth twitched awkwardly, as though he was struggling to find the right words to say. "These people…" He shrugged. "They're never going to trust the change we're trying to bring." He placed a hand on Marinette's shoulder, again with that sense of awkwardness. "That's why simple folk like us have to stick together."

Marinette glanced down at Theo's hand, then his eyes. Then, she gently removed his hand. She knew he meant well, but sometimes he could be so… dense. "I may be a baker's daughter, Theo, but I'm not simple." And with that, she started walking away, eager to put some distance between her and the town square.

"No… no, of course you're not!" Theo stammered, hustling after her with apologetic eyes. "I mean, I know you're not. It's not simple for me, either."

Marinette saw the dress shop in sight, but now Theo was walking sideways beside her, hellbent on keeping his eyes on her face. It only irritated her even more.

Ever since he got back from the war several months ago, Theo had never been able to take his eyes off Marinette. In fact, he always tried to make small talk with her each time he saw her in town. Not to mention the countless bouquets, chocolates, and gifts he would often send her way. Marinette had tried to be courteous with him in the beginning, even flirt with him a bit. Sadly, she quickly realized that Theo only liked her because she was, as he so plainly put, "better than all the other girls".

But Marinette didn't want to be "better" than anyone. Yet in this town, charm and beauty were the only traits everyone cared about.

"You know, Marinette," Theo said, speaking softly now. "Everyone thinks I have it all. I mean, I'm a war hero. I have a rustic hunting lodge in the mountains, quiet and far away. I'm a killer with a bow. I raise and train dogs. But, despite all that, my life is… incomplete."

The way he said that made Marinette pause, and her stomach turned into cottage cheese. Is he saying what I think he's saying?

"It's like… like a puzzle," Theo added, moving to stand right in front of Marinette, almost toe-to-toe. He was so close now; she could feel and smell his breath. It was a little garlicy, and she tried not to grimace. "And there's a special piece missing from it."

Marinette let out an uneasy giggle. "I can't imagine what that would be," she said. Please don't say it, please don't say it.

Theo cocked an eyebrow at her, as though her words amused him. "Truly?"

"Well… maybe… a watch?"

He chuckled. "No, silly. A wife."

The book slipped from Marinette's hands and crumpled onto the snow-covered ground. It was still so bright and warm out, but she suddenly felt frost coating her veins. "A… A... w-wife?" she croaked.

"Yes," Theo beamed at her. "And I think I've found the right one."

Well, now… this was definitely not how Marinette imagined her day would go. The argument with the headmaster was one thing, but… Theo proposing to her?! Alya would laugh herself hoarse. Marinette's mother wouldn't believe it. Her father… well, Marinette was just thankful he wasn't here to see this.

Theo took Marinette's hands in his and held them up between them. His smile was genuine and warm; almost childish, in fact. "They say you've never truly lived until you see yourself reflected in another person's eyes," he said.

Marinette's eyebrows crinkled, and she wished she could slip away through a crack in the ground. "And… you're saying you can see yourself… in mine?" she asked nervously.

"Absolutely. We're very much alike, you and I. We're both fighters. We're different. We're unique."

"Theo, I –"

"You are the brightest, most beautiful woman I've ever met. And once you have children of your own… why, you can teach them all how to read, and no one would ever dare tell you differently."

"Theo!" Marinette exclaimed, her voice cracking through the frigid air like a whip. She pulled her hands out of his caressing grasp and bent down to pick up her fallen book. "I'm… I'm not ready for marriage, and I'm certainly not ready to have children."

The hunter stared at her blankly for a few good seconds before offering an empathetic smile. "Well, you may not feel that way now… but in time…"

Marinette sighed and squared her shoulders like a teacher trying to host a lesson. "Theo," she said firmly, "you are the Champion of Villeneuve. I'm just… me. You and I… We could never make each other happy. No one would accept me as your wife. I can't give you what you want."

She tried to slip past him, but he caught her by the arm and spun them both around until her back was to the dress shop and he was back in front of her again. This time, Theo's eyes had that predatory gleam in them, like he had just ensnared a delicious doe. It made Marinette's instincts flare up like a warning bell.

"Look around you, Marinette," Theo said, beckoning to the snowy streets with both hands. "This is the world we live in. We have to accept what we are given… and take what we can get." He sank to one knee before her, his voice thick with desperation. "I will protect you from all the cruelties of this world, I swear it. We can go live in the countryside, and you don't ever have to concern yourself with anyone except your family. Our family."

Oh, God, he's serious.

"I will be a good husband to you, Marinette," Theo went on. "I mean… What other man in this town could ever care for you like I do?"

Suddenly, Marinette found herself going back in time, looking at a sneering Chloe Bourgeois and listening to very similar words: Who would bother caring about something as low as that?

If Theo was the only one in Villeneuve who would ever want to marry her, then maybe…

No. Marinette's resolve smashed through her frozen stupor like a pick axe. She wouldn't throw away her dreams of a better life – of adventure and wonder and possibility – just so she could have some sense of content with a husband who didn't truly know her. Theo was a good man, somewhere amidst all that pomp and circumstance, but he wasn't the one for Marinette. Moreover, she would not run away from her problems – she would face them head on.

Marinette lifted her chin, her bluebell eyes speaking volumes of pity. "If you really cared for me, Theo," she said, adamant in her decision, "then you would know full well that I don't intend to spend the rest of my life in a rustic hunting lodge, raising children or playing with dogs. So, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to marry you."

Theo stared up at her, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes clearing with something like confusion.

Knowing she had nothing else to say, Marinette turned on her heels and practically ran through the shop entrance before closing the door shut.


Theo remained kneeling there in the snow, his eyes following his blue-haired beauty until she slipped behind the door of the shop. Only then did he finally stand up.

Was I too direct? he wondered. Not direct enough? Does she think I'm not worthy of her? Is she waiting for someone else? Who could be better for her than I? The thought of such of thing – of someone else winning Marinette's affections – made his blood churn inside his flesh.

Maybe Marinette was just playing hard to get. Maybe she just needed time to think it over. Surely, she had her reasons for refusing his proposal so vehemently.

Theo's stealthy senses picked up two presences approaching. He didn't need to look to know who they were.

"So… how'd it go?" Kim asked with anticipation. "Do I hear wedding bells in the air?"

Theo flicked something off the lapel of his trench coat. "No, Kim" he said dully. "I suspect that's just the winter wind howling in your ear."

There was a brief pall of silence, and then he heard the big hunter gasp. "Ohhhh, dude… She said no to you?!" He let out an obnoxious laugh. "That's a first!"

"She's unconditionally adamant, I'll give her that," Max said. Theo felt his small hand pat him on the back. "Don't worry, Theo. You'll find someone better."

But Theo didn't want someone better. Marinette was better. She just didn't know it yet.

The brown-haired hunter smiled and put his fists on his hips. "Nonsense, Max. A true hunter never gives up on a worthy catch." He licked his lips. "That being said, I could use a drink. Come, gents. Let's head over to Otto's. We'll discuss more on the matter over a hot cider."

And through the sounds of snow crunching underneath his boots, Theo heard Kim whisper to Max, "Should we be worried?"

To which the stout hunter replied, "Not… yet."


Even in the winter time, an afternoon picnic with friends outside of town was always something to look forward to.

And the best part? No one was around to hear you talk… or laugh your head off.

"I still can't believe it!" Alya chortled, her teeth stained purple from a blueberry muffin as she lounged on the furry blanket. "No, wait… I can believe it! Madame Barbot, the Champion's wife."

"Ha-ha, very funny," Marinette groaned, flinging a snowball at her best friend. Alya yelped and scrambled away to brush herself off. Nino chuckled at the sight.

Marinette leaned back on her gloved hands, savouring the pinkish-orange sunshine on her face. Before her, on the other side of the big hill, stood Villeneuve. It looked so much smaller from this distance, with its cookie-cutter buildings and little towers. It almost made Marinette wish she could pick it all up in one hand and shake the annoying parts out. The frost. The headmaster. Chloe Bourgeois. Theo Barbot.

Marinette sighed. "Me – the wife of that brainless, overbearing soldier. Ugh." She moaned to the high heavens.

"Is he really that bad?" Nino asked, looking concerned. "I mean… Would it really be bad, marrying him?"

Marinette glanced at him. "No," she said. "It would really be bad if I married him. We're nothing alike! He only likes me because I'm different, and not because of who I am! To him, I'm like a … a white hind amongst a herd of brown does!"

Alya shuffled over, ignoring her muffin now and patting Marinette's hand. "Well, for what it's worth, I think you handled that situation well," she said earnestly. "Truth be told, I always knew Theo was a bit of a hound dog. I just didn't want to say anything until you did."

Marinette grinned. "Thanks, Alya."

"She's right," Nino agreed, taking a swig of his waterskin. "You deserve better, Marinette. You need to meet the right man."

"It's a small village, Nino. Believe me, I've met them all."

"Then maybe it's time to expand your horizons," the young musician stated, waving a hand at the enormous landscape behind him.

Marinette gazed out at the rolling, snow-covered pines that blanketed the countryside, bordered by cloud-covered mountains that led to worlds and kingdoms beyond their own. Immediately, she could see herself in the great white somewhere, riding out on an adventure like the heroes in her storybooks. Maybe she could go to Paris. Find out where her mother used to live. Meet new people.

But… she couldn't leave her parents behind. And Madame Bustier would lose her hardworking apprentice.

Marinette sighed. "Maybe, maybe not," she finally said, wrapping her arms around her legs as she smiled at the celestial mountains beyond. "Who knows? The right man could be waiting for me just around the corner."

"I'll drink to that," Alya said, raising her own waterskin.

The three friends bumped beverages, their grinning faces red from the cold.

Unbeknownst to them, a phantom wind blew in from the mountains, sweeping through the trees like a rush of sparkling dust.