Marinette had been told for as long as she could remember to never enter the rings of mushrooms in the forest.
Faerie rings, her parents called them.
As a young girl, she had always obeyed them, carefully skirting the edges of the mushrooms, perhaps brushing a finger over the caps of the mushrooms if she was feeling daring.
But now, as she grew older, she found herself disillusioned with the fairy tales that had made up her childhood, as well as her daily life.
As the baker’s daughter, Marinette had always been well-loved by everyone in her village. As sweet as the desserts they sold, she had gotten a wealth of suitors when she had come of age, delighting her family, especially when some of the suitors had come from higher classes than hers.
She had liked Nathaniel, the sweet artist who had painted pretty flowers on canvases she still had hung up in her room. Luka had been better, playing her music that still played in her head to this day when she lay awake at night. Kim had courted her at the behest of his family, though their childhood connection had made that awkward, especially since his heart clearly belonged to the fisherman’s daughter, Ondine.
Despite all of these suitors, her hand had been promised to the wealthy lord’s son, Adrien Agreste. While the boy was nice enough, she found their relationship to be lacking. Groomed his entire life to be the perfect heir, it was as if his personality had been carved from him. Marinette found their relationship to be lacking, though it was clear that the boy was trying his best to be a perfect gentleman.
Marinette wanted more. She wanted witty, fast-paced conversations, spontaneous walks in the garden under the stars and someone who looked at her as if she’d hung the moon instead of with polite interest.
To put a word to her situation, she was feeling stifled.
But Marinette could not do anything. She was the perfect girl everyone expected her to be, only expressing her emotions to the ladybugs that gathered on the marigolds in her garden.
“Hello, Marinette.” She stifled a groan at the politeness in the tone, at the utter lack of warmth or even a hint of love.
“Hello, Adrien.” She dipped her head in respect.
He held out a bouquet of roses to her, which Marinette accepted with a small polite smile of her own.
“Would you like to join me?” She inclined her head at her gardening implements.
A flash of confusion passed over his face. “Gardening? That is not a job for a lady.”
“The point of it is that it is a pleasure, not a job. It is relaxing.” She stroked the leaves of the plant, which almost seemed to perk up in her hand.
“When we get married, you cannot continue this activity. It is unseemly for a lady to have dirty hands.” Adrien almost seemed to be reciting this from a manual, as if he had memorized a book of what the perfect lady looks like.
“That is what gloves are for,” she could not help but snip back.
He seemed at a loss for words.
She sighed. “Adrien, this is how I find my peace. Taking this away from me would be cutting an irreparable part of me out.”
“Power requires sacrifice.”
“Is that you or your father speaking?” She almost regretted her words when he flinched, but found that she could not apologize for them.
“There are simply some things that you must do and things that you may not do. I am sorry, but this is the way that things are and in marriage, you agree to be the lady that I need by my side.” He showed a small amount of pity, but his mask had been carefully cultivated.
