Chapter Text
Not many fairy tales begin in a city like Chicago. Usually they start in an idyllic kingdom, where everything is fine and dandy until some lunatic bursts in to ruin things. Then the damsels are in distress, the dashing heroes must mount their white chargers, and the sidekicks must be prepared for their employer to get married – and if they’re really lucky, the sidekicks will find love, too.
That’s how things usually go. We’ve heard it thousands of times. But this story is different. Because it does begin in Chicago.
But don’t worry! We will get to the idyllic kingdom. You can’t, after all, name a kingdom something like “Belgravia” and say, “Well, that sounds like a place that a fairytale-like story would never happen.”
Not to mention that in this story, Paris is the capital of Belgravia. And it’s Christmastime. Christmas in the City of Love. Of course this is a fairy tale (or a rom-com, but same difference).
But every story has to start somewhere, and this one starts in none other than the Windy City.
And so we begin.
———
Ah, Christmas in Chicago. I don’t believe there’s anything like it. The usual hustle and bustle is punctuated by the joy of the season. People are smiling as they go from store to store, doing their Christmas shopping. The lines are long at the airport as people leave and arrive to visit family and friends.
Red, green, white, and gold deck the halls and windows everywhere, and it is no different in the Dupain-Cheng bakery.
“Merry Christmas,” Marinette Dupain-Cheng, owner and chef of said bakery, handing an older lady her bag of Yuletide confections, “and come back soon.”
“Oh, I will,” the woman said with a wide smile. “Your bakery is the best-kept secret in Chicago.”
Marinette raised her eyebrows, pleased. “Oh? Well, then, I’m counting on you to spread the word.” She winked and the woman grinned. “Take care,” Marinette said, waving as the woman left.
Marinette turned around and walked away from the counter, dodging a couple employees as they moved from display case to kitchen and back. At the other end of the area behind the counter, she reached the side of her sous chef and best friend, Luka Couffaine. At the moment, Luka was working on an exquisite cake for a Christmas party for the city council.
“City Hall needs this by five,” Marinette said. “How are we doing?”
“Ready when you are, boss,” Luka replied, delicately adding a finishing touch.
Marinette looked over the cake approvingly. “And that is why Luka Couffaine is the best sous chef in the business,” she said, grinning at him.
Luka chuckled self-consciously. “Stop.” Marinette raised an eyebrow. “Okay, carry on,” he said with another laugh.
The bell at the door tinkled cheerfully and a little girl with glasses and full, dark hair ran in. “Dad!”
Luka grinned and swept her up into his arms. “Alya! Hey, pumpkin! How was writing?”
“Good,” his daughter said as he set her down. “We went to the dance studio and practiced reporting on the group performing The Nutcracker .”
“Yeah?”
“Hi, Marinette,” Alya said, walking over to the counter. “Are there any sugar cookies left for your favorite goddaughter?”
“Well, you are my only goddaughter,” Marinette said, her eyes narrowed teasingly.”But for you there will always be sugar cookies.” She reached over to a plate on the counter and handed a cookie to Alya.
Alya took it, then looked up at Luka. “Aren’t you gonna tell her the news?”
Marinette stared curiously. “What news?”
Luka rubbed his neck nervously. “I, uh…” Alya nudged him and Luka went on. “You know the Christmas baking contest you’re always talking about?”
“Uh-huh,” Marinette said cautiously, starting to feel suspicious.
“The really fancy one at that Christmas festival in Belgravia?” Alya cut in. “That only the best pastry chefs in the entire world get invited to? And it's on TV?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well,” Luka said, “when you broke up with Nathaniel, I wanted to cheer you up. So I sent in a photo and our recipe for the Christmas Castle Cake, and…” He stopped and rummaged in his pocket for a moment.
“And…” Marinette prompted.
Luka pulled out a cream-white envelope and handed it to Marinette with a nervous smile and a sung, “ Ta-da .”
Marinette took the envelope, broke the red wax seal, and withdrew an invitation made of the same smooth, heavy paper as the envelope. The edges were embossed with gold and curly red writing was in the middle. She read it aloud. “ At the behest of the Royal Family of Belgravia, the judging committee is pleased to invite you to compete in our 56th International Baking Competition. ” She looked up.
“Can you believe it?” Luka asked, now looking excited. “They pay for everything.”
“When is it?”
“We’d leave Friday.”
Marinette’s jaw dropped. “Luka, we can’t just close up shop right before Christmas.”
Luka shrugged. “Turns out we can.”
“Belgravia’s like a fairy tale,” Alya said. (See? Just like I told you.) “We’d get to stay in a cottage. They even have a handsome prince.”
Marinette smiled and put the invitation back in the envelope with an air of finality. “Well, it is an honor just to be invited.”
Luka groaned inwardly but kept his expression casual. “Hey, Alya, don’t you need some milk with that cookie?”
His daughter looked up at him with a knowing smile. “Sure. But just so we’re clear,” she added as she turned to walk away, “I’m on team ‘Let’s Go Visit the Handsome Prince.’”
Once Alya was gone Luka let his exasperation show. “Couldn’t you be spontaneous for once in your life?”
Marinette snorted. “You know I’m not good at spontaneous.”
“This could put us on the map,” Luka pointed out.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Marinette walked around the counter to check a display in the window.
Luka followed her. “Come on, Mari. Ever since you broke up with Nathaniel, it’s like you’re scared to do anything different. You plan your life down to the last minute.”
“Well, it’s good to have a plan,” Marinette protested, avoiding his gaze as she fiddled with the displays.
“John Lennon once said that life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”
Marinette gave him a look. “What, and you can’t argue with a Beatle?”
“No.”
Marinette rolled her eyes. Luka’s father was the rock star Jagged Stone. Of course he would consider a famous musician’s opinion the last word. Jagged had probably known John Lennon. “An event like this would be a lot of work.”
“They’re giving us the entire afternoon to prep the kitchen and two days to relax and go sightseeing,” Luka said evenly.
Marinette sighed as she walked away and started pulling on her coat and scarf. “Well, maybe if they gave us more notice.”
“Mari, come on,” Luka pleaded. “It’s not good to stay at home at Christmas and feel sorry for yourself.”
Marinette turned to look at him. “Look, Nathaniel and I were together for three years. Christmas was a really special time for us.”
“Well, maybe it’s time to move on.”
She smiled sadly. “I am just not ready to.” Then she opened the door and walked outside into the bitter, cold air.
Christmas had always been Marinette’s favorite time of the year. Some people she knew got so stressed about gift-giving, traveling, and other Yuletide activities, but those things brought Marinette so much joy. Especially while she was dating Nathaniel. They’d had so many traditions and fun memories that made her heart twinge as she looked around the snowy streets.
Without any real idea of where she was going, she walked down the sidewalk, dodging a few people carrying stacks of presents. Eventually she reached an elderly man who was ringing a bell, standing by a Christmas tree and collection bucket, and smiling at passersby.
Marinette stopped and pulled out a few dollar bills and dropped them into the bucket. The man smiled at her. “Merry Christmas.”
“Thank you.”
“Christmas sure is a magical time of year, wouldn’t you say?” the man asked, his eyes twinkling cheerfully.
Marinette nodded, smiling. The man’s joy was a bit contagious. “Yeah, I just wish I had someone to spend it with.”
The man smiled and leaned a bit closer to her to speak almost conspiratorially. “Christmas wishes have been known to come true,” he told her.
Marinette tipped her head, a bit confused by the significance that he laced into that simple sentimental statement. Then a flash of red in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she looked to her left. Not far away, just coming out of a building and laser-focused on his phone, was none other than Nathaniel. Marinette’s heart skipped a beat. “Um, excuse me,” she said to the old man, who just smiled and nodded.
Marinette walked quickly over to Nathaniel, smoothing her raven-black hair. She quickly brushed at her face in case something had gotten on it, then stopped a few feet away from him. “Nathaniel?”
He looked up, startled. Then he smiled. “Marinette, hey.”
“Hey,” Marinette replied, wishing she could come up with a better response.
“I was thinking about you the other day.”
Marinette’s heart rate went even faster. “You were?”
“Last Christmas? That lodge in Vermont?”
“Yeah, that was pretty terrific.” She felt her cheeks heat up and tried to keep from smiling like an idiot.
Nathaniel’s phone trilled and he looked at it, then looked up with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, I have to go. I’ve got a train to catch and I don’t want to miss it.”
The castles that Marinette had been mentally building got hit with a wrecking ball. “Oh,” she said, trying not to sound too disappointed. “Where are you going?”
“I’m spending the week with my boyfriend Marc and his parents.”
Marinette blinked several times. “Well. That sounds… big.”
A small smile curled Nathaniel’s lips. “It is.” Then he met her gaze again. “Do you have any plans for Christmas?”
“Yeah,” she said quickly. “Big plans. Super huge.”
He tipped his head disbelievingly. “Like what?”
Marinette bit her lip for a moment. “I… will be competing in a holiday baking contest in Belgravia. No, in fact, I got to go and start packing my big old suitcase right now. Lots of work to do. Gotta prepare, you know? Big plans.” She shut her mouth, cutting off her nervous rambling.
Nathaniel just smiled indulgently. He was all too familiar with Marinette’s quirks. “Well, good luck, then. I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“Thanks,” Marinette said, her face turning scarlet. “See ya.” And with that she turned around and walked away.
“So much for Christmas wishes,” she remarked to the old man as she passed him.
He just chuckled, that same twinkle in his eye. “It isn’t Christmas yet.”
Marinette quirked a half-smile in his direction before walking away.
———
Fu watched Marinette walk away. He smiled to himself. Off to Belgravia, then , he thought. Let the Christmas magic begin . He had four wishes to help make come true, and he wasn’t going to waste a moment.
———
Marinette strode back to the bakery and walked in. Luka looked up from reading Alya’s latest composition.
Marinette took a breath and smiled. “I guess we’re going to Belgravia!”
Luka’s face lit up like a lamp and he let out a whoop. Alya cheered and ran over, throwing her arms around Marinette, who laughed and hugged the girl back.
“What changed your mind?” Luka asked.
Marinette shrugged and decided not to mention that she’d run into Nathaniel. The last time that had happened, Luka had almost punched the other man square in the jaw. “I guess… I just want something different. And it’ll be cool, no matter what happens in the competition.”
Luka grinned and gave her a side hug. “Come on, let’s go and pack.”
———
The scene couldn’t have been more idyllic as the plane touched down in the Belgravian International Airport in its capital city, Paris. The mountains outside the city were dusted with snow and the silvery-green of the forests looked enchanted.
Marinette, Luka, and Alya rented a car and drove to their cottage in the woods. They pulled into the driveway and parked. Alya bounced out of the car. “Wow, it’s Clara’s house from The Nutcracker .”
Marinette and Luka got out, too. Luka grinned as Marinette said, “Yeah? Well, if the Mouse King shows up, I am out of here.” Alya giggled.
Together they got their luggage out of the car and into the house. They looked around, seeing a small but comfortable living room, kitchen, and dining room. A set of stairs led to the bedrooms. A crackling fire was in the fireplace in the living room. The design of the place was altogether charming.
Marinette smiled, impressed. “It’s beautiful,” she said.
“It is, and we get to live here for a few days,” Luka replied. “Aren’t you glad you came?” Marinette laughed and playfully shoved him.
“Hey, could we stop in town?” Alya asked. “They have a huge North Pole Christmas fair with Santa, and elves, and everything! And maybe we could even get some stockings for the fireplace.”
“We’re supposed to be at the Dupont kitchen at noon,” Marinette said. “It wouldn’t hurt to be a little early.”
Alya looked pleadingly at her father. “Please?”
Luka looked at Marinette with fond exasperation. “I mean, aren’t you being a little, I don’t know… neurotic?”
Marinette looked insulted. “I am being organized, okay?” She gestured emphatically with a piece of paper. “We have a schedule.”
“Let me see that,” Luka said, snatching it out of her grip. He looked it over, then exclaimed triumphantly. “See? It says ‘time to have fun.’”
Marinette rolled her eyes. “Where?”
“Right there.” Luka pointed at a completely blank space at the very bottom. He grinned wickedly. “In invisible ink.”
Alya giggled and Marinette folded her arms stubbornly. “Luka…”
“Mari, we won’t be there long. We’ll get to Dupont in time. I’m sure that they already have everything prepared, and we’ll just have to make sure the set-up is to our liking.”
Alya turned her big brown eyes on Marinette and the baker had to relent. “Fine, fine, I guess we can go for a little while.”
———
“ Don we now our gay apparel, fa la la la la la la la la! Troll the ancient Yuletide carol, fa la la la la la la la la! ”
Marinette, Luka, and Alya joined in the applause as the choir finished the song, then kept walking down the street of the Christmas fair. The street was lined with vendors selling various Christmas goodies.
“Stockings!” Alya cried, rushing over to one of the vendors, whose table was, indeed, covered with stockings in all colors and designs.
“I’ve got some more over here,” the elderly vendor said, showing Alya a different pile of the large, colorful socks.
Marinette narrowed her eyes in confusion as she and Luka approached. Where had she seen that man before? He noticed her staring at him and met her gaze. She blushed. “I’m sorry. You look so familiar.”
The man smiled kindly. “I’ve heard that before.”
“Well, you weren’t in Chicago last week, were you?”
He tipped his head and looked at her mysteriously. “How could I have been in Chicago?” He chuckled to himself and spread out more stockings.
Luka was looking around and had missed the exchange. “They really go all out for Christmas here, huh?”
“It’s in honor of the Royal Wedding,” the old man explained. “The Prince is getting married to the Duchess of Montenaro on New Year’s Day.”
“Is she pretty?” Alya asked.
“We haven’t seen much of her. The Duchess is what you’d call camera-shy. Doesn’t allow her picture to be taken.”
“Well, maybe she’s just a really private person,” Marinette suggested.
“If you want to get a look, you might still catch her,” the old man told Alya. “I heard she was touring the set for the… royal baking competition.” He turned to give a significant look to Marinette as he said the last three words.
She stared at him. Huh?
Then their attention was caught by a woman tapping a microphone on a small stage nearby. She announced something about a Christmas story writing competition and declared the winner. Applause rang out.
“That’s the Children’s Journalism Academy,” the old man said.
Alya looked at him and smiled wistfully. “I love writing,” she said. “It would be so cool to be part of something like that.”
“Maybe you can,” he replied.
“Really?”
“I hear they have a summer program.” The man looked at Luka, who tried to hide his misgivings as he exchanged a look with Marinette.
The woman on stage was now reading the story out loud. “Could we go listen for just a little while?” Alya asked. “Please?”
Luka looked at Marinette again, who smiled. “Five minutes. You guys go ahead. I’ll take care of this.” Luka smiled gratefully and he and Alya walked closer to the stage. Marinette turned back to the old man. “Uh, one of each, please,” she said, digging in her bag for her wallet.
“Are you people in a hurry?” the man asked as he wrapped up the three stockings.
“I’m trying to get to Dupont a little early to set up for the competition,” Marinette said, pulling out some money. “I’m one of the contestants.”
“Well, you know what they say,” the man remarked. He handed Marinette the stockings and went on, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”
Marinette gave him a bemused look. “That’s the second time someone’s said that to me in the past week.” And it didn’t have much to do with what I said. Did it?
He gave her a twinkly-eyed smile. “Maybe you need to hear it.”
Still confused, Marinette just said, “Right. Merry Christmas.” The man wished her the same as she walked away across the street. As she crossed, a car came barreling down the road. It honked its horn and she barely got out of the way in time. “Hey! Slow down!” she shouted. “Would you watch where you’re going?”
———
Prince Adrien of Belgravia looked from his newspaper at the sound of yelling. “Who’s shouting?” he asked.
“A tourist, sir,” replied Mr. Phillips, the driver and the palace butler.
“Hmm.” Adrien went back to his newspaper.
“Probably from the States,” Phillips added.
“Probably,” Adrien said absentmindedly, already forgetting the incident.
The main story in the newspapers was, of course, focused on his upcoming marriage. He reread every line in the article, searching for something that one of the reporters might have found out about the Duchess. He had met her a few times before, and while they had gotten along, he hadn’t felt that he had really gotten to know her .
One could usually count on the press to dig up something about anyone, but for the Duchess of Montenaro, they had just about the same information that he did.
Adrien sighed quietly. He knew his duty, had been preparing for it since the day he was born, but that didn’t make him happy about it. His soon-to-be bride had so far turned out to be an unsolvable mystery. He hoped that when he unraveled it, he would find someone he could grow to love.
As a prince he was denied the privilege of falling in love before marriage, but love could grow within matrimony. And the Duchess was a good woman. She would make a fine wife and a fine queen someday.
Yet unlike most grooms, Adrien found himself dreading the upcoming day of his wedding.