Distorted Fantasy

'Dreaming' Lady

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN MIRACULOUS LADYBUG OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS, WHO BELONG TO THOMAS ASTRUC!

A/N: I'm so thankful for the amount of feedback the prologue got— thank you all so so much!! <3 <3

Thank you for reading !!  XOXO, Mokyubun

Warning(s): none :)

Her vivid blue eyes fluttered open to see a room of which she was not familiar. It was a small bedroom— filled with unfinished gowns and tattered fabrics. Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. What was she doing here?

The seventeen year old hopped out of bed and took a quick look into the mirror at her bedside. It was dusty and covered with smears, yet it still showed her reflection quite nicely. She was wearing a deep brown dress, which had blue sleeves that reached her elbows. A vivid blue handkerchief was styled into her navy locks and acted as a hair elastic. Perplexed, the young woman frowned. Who's clothes were these and why was she dressed in them? She had so many questions and no answers at all. The last thing she remembered was—

"Mariella!" A high pitched voice shrieked from the downstairs corridors. "Where is breakfast? It's already nine o'clock!"

"M-Mariella?" Marinette choked on the name. "Is that my name?" She slightly cocked her head and sighed. If this was some messed up dream, she might as well play along. "Coming!" The teenager hollered back, still not sure as to what was going on. Her feet gently thumped across the hardwood floor and down the grand staircase.

Her sweet blue eyes met with two women; the first was tall and slender, like a model. Her beautiful blonde hair inched down her back, like a cascading waterfall of sunshine. The other, who was just as lovely, had short orange hair that, Marinette swore, sparkled as the sun's rays kissed it.

"Excuse me?" Marinette weakly spoke as her heart began to race.

"Mariella!" The blonde spun around so that her dazzling blue eyes could intimidate the blunette even further. "You're late! What kind of maid is late?" She huffed.

Marinette could only blankly stare at the woman. "C-Chloé? What are you doing here?"

The blonde's gaze narrowed. "How dare you address me by my first name AND question me in the same sentence!" She harshly spoke, putting a strong emphasis on the 'and'.

The ginger perked up, also seeming annoyed. "It seems as if she has forgotten her manners." She giggled while lifting a hand to grace her lips, as if she was trying to hide her growing smile.

"Well? Don't just stand there," Chloé placed her hands on her hips, "Mother isn't going to be very happy with you. Go make us something to eat." She smirked, loving the power rush.

Marinette's head was spinning. What was she doing— dreaming about Chloé and Sabrina?

Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed from across the room. An exquisite older woman, that of luscious blonde hair, entered the conversation. She was clothed in what seemed to be the finest of emerald green silk, and her neck bore the richest of jewels.

"Mother!" Chloé and Sabrina cried in unison.

"My dearest daughters," Mrs. Bourgeois spoke without even laying eyes on Marinette, "How are you this morning, girls?" Her voice was smooth and refined, yet it sent chills down the blunette's spine. Before the girls could answer, Mrs. Bourgeois continued, "I have very important news. I'm pleased to announce that you two have been blessed with an invitation to the Prince's Ball— he is to choose a wife tonight."

The expressions upon the sisters faces' lit up in response. "R-Really?" Sabrina asked. "That's so soon, I need to start getting ready immediately!" The ginger giggled ecstatically.

"M-Me too!" Chloé said with a gigantic smile plastered upon her face. "Come on, Sabrina!" The blonde hollered while tugging on her sister's sleeve.

As the two trotted up the stairs in glee, Marinette turned to look at Mrs. Bourgeois. Everything seemed so similar— not just the people, obviously, but the scenario as well. The Prince, the ball, the step-sisters. Why did this all feel so predictable?

Then, something clicked. Many years ago, Marinette's mother used to read her various fairytales before bed. As a result, the young girl was well versed in the stories. This scenario was beginning to feel a lot like one of the tales her mom used to read her.

Wanting to test her theory, Marinette asked, "Ma'am, am I invited too?"

"That is preposterous! Why would a lowly servant like you be invited to such an exquisite event? The Prince deserves someone of the utmost beauty, like your sisters." Mrs. Bourgeois' cold words added to the thickening atmosphere.

Still piecing things together, Marinette continued, "But isn't every woman in the village invited?" Everything depended on this question. If Mrs. Bourgeois responded in a particular way, the blunette's theory would be proven true.

"H-How did you know that?" The older woman creased her brow and scrunched her nose. "Fine. If you can get all of your chores done and find something adequate to wear, you can go."

Bingo.

Marinette's crystal blue eyes widened in shock— she finally figured it out.

This was the story of Cinderella.

But, in this case, she was 'Mariella'.