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Damian walked through the streets, his hood over his face to prevent being recognised.
In this disguise he looked just like a peasant. He wasn't thrilled at this prospect, but at least it was a reprieve from his mother's constant onslaught of galas.
She wanted him to take a noble wife and Damian just did not like any of the approved girls. Too snooty, too obnoxious and overall too obviously after the crown.
He noticed a small army of Palace guards, probably looking for him. So, he ducked into a nearby building.
Once he was sure the guard passed he turned around to see a girl his age behind a counter and staring at him with wide eyes.
"Why were you running from the guards? You didn't steal anything did you? Or hurt one of the prince's? You can't be in here, we don't harbour criminals in this establishment. Shoo!"
Damian rolled his eyes, "Tt - I'm not running from the guards, more like hiding."
She glared at him, "Well, why are you hiding from them?"
He walked over to the girl, looking around the shop, "They don't want to arrest me if you're worried. I didn't commit a crime. I just happen to be… A person of interest to them."
The girl squinted at him, "Hmm. Well if you make anything more interesting in this bakery, I'll fetch the guards myself."
Damian raised his hand, "On my honour."
She seemed satisfied, before her eye caught something on his face, "Sit."
She bustled in the back before bringing back bandages, "You have a cut in your face."
It must have been from when he took a shortcut through the woods.
He sat down like she asked and she cleaned the wound.
"I'm Marinette."
"Damian."
"Like the Prince?"
Shit
"In a way."
She grinned at him, "If I didn't know better I'd say you were the Prince," He stiffened, "But luckily for me, I do know better than that."
For the first time in months, Damian's lips quirked up.
…..
Damian would come to Marinette's bakery every day. Eventually, they got so close that he began to fall for her. Which only made him more disobedient when his mother expressed her wishes for her son to marry.
Damian finally grew the courage to ask Marinette to court him, when there was a knock on his chamber door.
"Damian," His mother said, entering, "Because you have ignored my demands for you to get a wife. I have taken things into my own hands."
She gestured towards the door, "Come in!"
A girl his age with sausage hair an a gaudy orange dress entered the room.
"Damian, meet your bethrothed, Lila."