Chapter Text
For as long as Marinette, she was told she was there for one purpose, and one purpose alone. To be the best. She was sold for money to the League, her father didn’t want her and her mother was forced to sell her or get rid of her. At least that’s what she’s always been told. She was five when she was entered into a tournament by her mentor, whoever would win an unknown prize.
The tournament is at the end of the year so she convinces her mentor to let her put in more hours of training and tactics. She stayed up late practicing her technique and she was focused more one mastering clumsiness or using it to her advantage. She spent her free Sunday, studying the school work that she was assigned but had to put off due to her excessive training. She had hope that the prize would be freedom.
The day of the tournament was fast approaching and it wasn’t until the final week when she learned some additional information about the competition. It was open to all ages between the ages of four to thirteen. It turned out, she was the youngest competing. She was a bit nervous now, she may be trained to take out people larger than her, but she’s never done it outside of training.
The day of the competition hit her like a bullet, she was nervous as heck lined up with the rest of the competitors. Everyone was dressed in their uniform and looking professional and emotionless, and Marinette was no different. Then her nerves spiked… Mistress Al Ghul and her son, young Master Al Ghul were standing above them.
“Good day, today you compete for a prize, which you will know when or if you survive this,” Talia greeted the competitors.
“Yes Mistress!” they reply in sync.
It was an all-out brawl, a battle royale, a fight for the title of victor. Some of the older kids charged her, probably thinking to get her out first. She dodges, before doing an attack from behind, the girl falls. She marked with a color from above, showcasing her elimination.
“I’m gonna get you brat,” she growls standing. Marinette just ran off the find someone else, or have someone else approach her. She was lucky there were to kids just a bit older than her, fighting it out. She attacks the girl with the upper hand. She does a throat upper punch. The other boy, seeing an opening, goes for a high attack. He left his lower-half open, she took advantage of it, using his momentum she tackled him to the ground. She proceeded to straddle his midsection and deliver blows to his face. He gets marked as an elimination so she moves on to another group, taking them out one at a time till she was left face to face with an eleven-year-old.
“I’m going to kick your ass, that prize is going to be mine,” he snarls, circling her.
“We’ll see,” Marinette responds curtly. He rushes her and tries to slides to try and tries to kick out her feet from under her, but she jumps over his kick. She grabs his man bun and jerks his had back. His head hit the ground. Marinette wraps her legs around his torso, trapping his arms, and wraps arms around his neck. He kicks his legs, trying to break free of her hold.
“Enough!” Talia commands. Marinette releases the boy and stands at attention, waiting to see what the Mistress would say. “Your name?”
“Marinette, Mistress!” She responds, looking up to her.
“Age,” Talia asks, her voice is the type that commands respect.
“Age five, Mistress.”
“Adequate work, Marinette, you are the winner,” Talia announces.
“Thank you, Mistress.”
“Sabine!” Talia calls over her shoulder.
“Yes, Mistress,” a woman responds, stepping forward.
“Bring her to meet with me later,” Talia said, walking down the balcony, the young Master Al Ghul following behind her. Marinette releases the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. A feeling of relief and realization washes over the petite girl. She had won. She had won!! She had beaten everyone, all that time, effort, and pain had been worth it.
She leaves the arena, just to be intercepted by Sabine. “Marinette, time to go,” She says tersely, before walking off in the direction she had just come from. Marinette silently follows the petite Asian woman. She enters a dimly lit room where Talia stood. Marinette bows her head.
“As I said before, you did well taking everyone down and I’m assuming you entered or were entered because of the prize?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Your prize will be decided soon,” Talia said, Marinette must have shown some sort of confusion. “Permission to speak.”
“Mistress, you didn’t know what the prize was?”
“We wanted to see who would win,” She explains. “Dismissed.”
Marinette bows her head before leaving the room. She returns to her room to work on or her studies.
Back in the room with Talia, Sabine enters and interrupts her thoughts. “You have a prize in mind for her don’t you.”
“Of course I do, I just have to inform my father of the plan,” Talia states. “Have you worked with her before?”
“Yes, Talia, she’s a hard-worker, strong, and burns with determination,” Sabine responds.
“You’ve been my best advisor and strongest ally, should I go through with my plan?” Talia questions.
“As a mother, it wouldn’t be in your best interests, but as a leader, you are making a strong choice in establishing the League’s future,” Sabine explains.
“Damian will understand, he is the next leader,” Talia sighs, before wiping any concern and any hints of doubt from her face. “Sabine, inform my father I have a plan to secure our future.”
Noticing Talia go into League mode, Sabine nods, and leaves. She carries out her orders before heading to bed.
Talia’s meeting with her father would be a tough one. She doesn’t know how he will react to her plan, but she hopes it goes well. She sits in the dimly lit room and waits. Ra arrives right on time because punctuality is key.
“Talia, what is the meaning of this meeting?” Ra commands, sitting down.
“I witnessed the competition this morning, we have our winner,” Talia says, before throwing a file on the table. “Marinette, five years old. Half-French, and half-Asain. I think I have her prize.”
“That would be?”
“Betrothal to Damian,” She states.
“Is she faithful to the League?”
“It’s all she knows. In that file, there are some pictures from the competition earlier, training regime, and school records.” Ra grabs the file and looks through it. There was a silence for a while that filled the room.
“I approve,” Ra said, closing the file, before leaving her alone.
“Sabine, bring me, Damian,” Talia says,
“Yes, Talia,” her voice came from muffled from behind the door. Five minutes later a knock came, breaking the silence. “Enter.”
“Mother, Sabine said you wanted to speak with me,” Damian said, sitting down in the seat Ra had been sitting in not too long ago.
“We have found you a bride, you’ll marry when she turns nineteen,” Talia said, getting right to the point. “Your grandfather already agreed, and there the girl is dedicated to the League, she’ll do as we say.”
“What if I don't want a betrothed?”
“It’s what's best for the future of the League, you do want that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, but a betrothal?”
“Mother knows best, and this is what’s best for the future,” Talia said, looking over at her son, the future.
“Who is she?”
“The winner from the tournament,” Talia states, watching his reaction, but as he was raised to do, he showed none.
“This is her prize? I’m a prize.”
“More like a little toy for you to use for your pleasure.”
“Have you informed her of this plan?”
“No, but as I said, the League is all she knows, she won’t reject the idea.”
“She may not reject the idea to your face, but as she gets older she may despise the idea.”
“It will be too late by then, she’ll have already drunk the drink that binds you two together.”
“What do you mean by that?” Damian growls.
“It’ll be explained at the ceremony,” Talia said, standing, thus prompting Damian to stand. “Dismissed.”
It was during Marinette’s daily training when she saw Sabine again.
“The Mistress would like to speak with you,” Sabine states, it seems that all fighting and training cease as she speaks.
“Yes, ma’am,” Marinette says with a bow of the head.
“Follow me, she’s waiting,” She pauses looking around the courtyard. “As you were!” She shouts, the courtyard unfreezing. The walk is quiet and quick. When they arrive at a door, Sabine quickly knocks, receiving a mumbled, enter, she opens the door. When Marinette entered, the Mistress just as before stood in front of her. Marinette bows her head while saying. “Mistress, you wanted to talk to me?”
“We came up with a prize. You’re to be Damain’s betrothed and mother of future heirs,” Talia said, her voice lacking any emotion.
“What?” Marinette asks, her training failing her, Talia raises an eyebrow to her outburst. “I apologize for my shock Mistress, but I’m five.”
“You wouldn’t be getting married now, you will be the day you turn nineteen. Right now, we have to prepare you for the ceremony of bonding,” Talia explained. “We also want you to be use to each other after the fate of the future of the League lies in you and Damain’s hands. Do you accept, mind if you even think of rejecting, we will have to kill you.” Talia subtly threatens.
“I accept my task with eagerness to further the League, thank you for this opportunity Mistress,” Marinette says, bowing out of gratitude.
“Great the ceremony is next week, you will be announced as betrothed and you will be moved from the barracks into out private sector,” Talia says.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You will continue to uphold all you do.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You will hold up the Al Ghul name, you will bring pride to the League.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Oh and Marinette, good luck with Damian, treat him well or I will cut you dead and I won’t make it look like an accident.”
“Of course Mistress.” (Yes Talia just did give the shovel talk to a five-year-old).
“Dismissed.”
The rest of the week was spent looking over things for the ceremony and getting traditional attire ready. She was nervous and a bit disappointed that she would never be free of the League, but maybe she could build a life here. She realized this betrothal might not affect her now, but in the future may be a bit of a nuisance.
“Marinette, it’s time to go, the ceremony is starting soon,” Sabine said, appearing in Marinette’s room.
“Yes, ma’am,” Marinette said, standing to follow the woman. She was dressed in a traditional chuba, Tibetian dress, it was a blue base with green sleeves. (I did a bit of research -literally a google search- blue means purity and healing and green mean balance, so i think they fit well).
She enters the chape like room, and everyone rises as she enters. The young master is kneeling facing away from and facing the altar and the Mistress and Master. She heaves a deep breath in and out before making her way down the aisle. As she walked by, the people around her kneeled down. When she got to the front, just as she practiced she bowed, her head facing the ground, and held out her hand in front of her. The Master placed a goblet in the young Master’s hand, and a different in her hands.
“Rise,” The Master commands, lifting his hand in the air. “Bring the knife.” Sabine approaches them from the side and hands the Master a jagged looking blade. “Your hands.”
Marinette inhales deeply, holding out her left hand. The young Master holds out his right hand and the Master uses the knife to cut deep into his hand. The Master does the same to her hand, leaving her hand with a gash and bloody. The Mistress takes their hands and lets a bit of blood drop into the goblet. The goblet inside glows as the blood mingles with the drink.
“By this goblet, you two are bound. If you are unfaithful the potion will burn you,” The Master explains. “Do you accept this honor for the future of the League?
“I graciously accept this honor,” Marinette says, as Talia wraps their cut hands together.
“I accept this honor to bring the League into a stable future,” Damian says, their hands held together by a red sash.
“I now introduce the newly betrothed Al Ghul, Marinette,” The Master announced, turning the two to face the room of people, their followers.