Where Does the Red String Go? -Miraculous Ladybug AU Soulmates

Prolouge

"When you fully trust someone without any doubt, you get one of two results: A person for life or a lesson for life."

The Marionette's strings were tired of working.

It had been manipulated too many times.

Its red painted face and black hair soon chipped off with age, its wooden body slowly withering to minute dust.

The performers used her for their own use. Forcing her to perform puppet shows, deluding her into believing it was love.

Two performers controlled her, the expert puppeteers for their show. Together they used her strings, show after show. Applause after applause.

She was forced to move, her limbs controlled from above. Told to act, to speak, to dress. She was tired. Of all of it.

But no one would save her.

Her only hope was one of the performers would set her free. Remove her strings, remodel her withered body. Whisk her away on a life full of happiness. She dreamed and dreamed and dreamed of that day, her painted black eyes shining will longing.

And one day her dream came true.

One performer gave her a chance. He allowed her to control her strings for one performance. She performed spectacularly, wowing the audience with her movements. But the performer did not treat her well, breaking her wooden limbs and scraping off the paint on her face.

And so she turned to the other performer.

The other performer whisked her away. He gave her dresses, a new body, everything she could ever dream of. The other performer seemed like the answer to all her wishes. But the performer still had her strings, although she did not know it.

The Marionette was conflicted by the two. Did she want freedom, or riches? She danced and performed each show, her limbs slowly breaking as she tried to make her decision.

And so she chose the performer who gave her riches, for he was the one who answered all her wishes. Except one.

The other performer joyfully danced with her, bathing her in expensive riches. She was happy. Contented. She had everything she could ever dream of.

But she forgot who the performer truly was. A puppeteer, skilled in the art of manipulating that no one could ever detect him. So she could have never known his true nature.

Time passed, as the Marionette grew prettier, her face and limbs reworked. Yet she still did not know what the performer had been doing to her.

And it seemed like she would never find out.