Chapter Text
For 17 years, Marinette Dupain-Cheng lived happily with her parents. They were not the richest in France, but what they lacked in money they made up for with love. As bakers, they worked hard every day to serve their customers, but they always made enough money to sustain their household of three.
Marinette knew she was fortunate. She could read and write, though many other girls of her age were not able to. Her parents had no problem allowing her out into the village, when she was not needed at the bakery, of course, and so she had ample opportunity to learn about her world, as well.
For years, she had known she wanted to become a tailor. (Truthfully, she dreamed of creating beautiful clothing that even the nobles would take notice of, though she knew she was more likely to spend her days mending the townspeople’s ragged clothing. But her parents had always encouraged her to dream, and so she continued to hope that someday, if she tried hard enough, her work would be admired all over France.) In her spare time, she made her own clothing. What she couldn’t wear herself, she would sometimes sell, and she liked to think that the occasional bit of extra income was helpful to her parents.
And yet, in the summer of her 17th year, her family’s luck ran out. It had been a hard year; there had been a famine, and while her family had not suffered nearly as much as the farmers had, they had not been able to make as much money as usual. Thus, when debt collectors came to their home one day, they simply did not have any money to give.
“Monsieur, please, I was given 20 years to repay the debt. It has only been 17; there is still time. I-“
The man, who Marinette thought had introduced himself as Roger, did not wait for Tom Dupain to finish his statement.
“By order of King Gabriel Agreste, you, Tom Dupain, have three days to find the money, or else serve as a laborer in the castle for 10 years. It isn’t hard to understand. Now, if you’ll -“
“WAIT!” Marinette cried, not caring that she was cutting off a man who could throw her in prison. “Um, Monsieur, if someone from his immediate family, say, his daughter, were to offer to take his place, would such a thing be allowed?” she asked as politely as she could manage. Her mother and father made a strangled noise in unison, but she did not turn to look at them.
“I suppose in this instance that it would be allowed,” the officer replied.
“In that case, if we cannot get the money in three days, please come find me, instead,” she said, her eyes shining with determination.
“Whatever, girl. You’d be as decent a servant as any.” He shrugged, then gave her father a glare. “I will be seeing you in three days, Monsieur Dupain.”
And with that, he left their home, uncaring of the pain he left in his wake.