Chapter Text
When Marinette was four years old, drawings started appearing on her arms. At first they frightened her, but her mamma assured her that they were only drawings from her soulmate. Whatever he wrote or drew on his arms would appear on hers and vice versa. After that, she always carried around a marker and would tell her soul mate stories on her arms. She drew him flowers, cakes from her parent’s bakery, the funny dog she saw outside her window, anything she could think of to show him. He wrote back in music notes and cats and silly stick figures. She insisted she learn to read and write so that she could really talk to him. Together they practiced their ABC’s and eventually held conversations. They couldn’t tell each other their names on their arms, but that was ok. He was her boy, and she was his girl. Their arms were never without ink for years to come.
When Marinette turned six, she decided she wanted to really talk to her boy. So, she asked her mom if she could call him. She looked a little surprised, but said that if his mamma would give him the phone number she would call him for her. It wasn’t long after that, that neat and unfamiliar handwriting appeared on her arm. She showed it to her mamma and she dialed the phone for her and let her have it. When a lady picked up, she cleared her throat and spoke in her most adult voice.
“Hello, I need to talk to my boy.”
“Alright, here he is.” Marinette waited impatiently while the phone was handed off.
“Girl?”
“Boy!”
They talked for hours. They could finally say whatever they wanted, and it was much faster than writing it down. While they talked they drew each other pictures. It was only the first of many conversations.
They were eight before they told each other their names.
“Marinette is a princess name! It’s pretty and magical just like you!”
“If Marinette is a princess name then you have to be my knight. Knight Adrien.”
“Together we save all of France from an evil sorcerer who enslaves people to make them fight us and try and capture our magic! Knight Adrien and Princess Marinette to the rescue!”
“I think you mean Princess Marinette and Knight Adrien. I, obviously, am the more powerful one.”
“Well duh! You’re not royalty for nothing! I am but your humble sidekick.”
“Nonsense, we’re partners. What’s a princess without her knight?”
“And what’s a knight without his princess?”
"I love you, my princess.”
“I love you too, my knight.”
For years, these daily phone calls were enough for them. They told each other everything. They made up stories of their adventures together. Marinette and Adrien, best friends, storytellers, and soulmates.
When they were eleven, Adrien’s mom started getting sick. He wouldn’t tell her much about it, but she knew he was worried. She got worse and worse, until one day Marinette called, and an unfamiliar voice answered the phone.
“I need to talk to my boy.”
“He isn’t here,” the man responded, and hung up.
When she tried calling back no one answered. She tried writing messages on her arms, but he never responded. Marinette grew desperate. She called multiple times a day and covered her arms in flowers and words, anything to try and get him to respond. But he never did. Finally, after a week, whenever she called the number she had long sense memorized, the line was disconnected. She cried for a week and refused to come out of her room. She wrote on her arms hoping for a reply, but none ever came. Finally she wrote just one sentence.
Just tell me if you’re alive.
No reply came, and Marinette promised never to write on her arms again.
The next morning, she came down stairs with her arms scrubbed clean, and for the first time since she was small, there was no trace of ink anywhere.
“Hey, princess, what happened to your drawings?” her papa asked.
“I’m not a princess anymore. I can’t be a princess when my knight is dead.”
Her parents never brought it up again.
Every year on Adrien’s birthday, Marinette broke her promise. She would draw only one thing. It was a black cat cuddling a ladybug, his favorite animal and hers, with the words A Princess and her Knight surrounding it. She never expected a response, and she never got one, but it was her way of remembering the soulmate she never met.
School was harder after that. All her classmates had soulmates who drew them pictures, and eventually some of them met them. She watched her classmates fall in love with their soulmates and send them messages, and ached at the loss of hers. She took to wearing long sleeves, even when it was warm. She never told them what happened to hers. She let them assume what they wanted. Some thought they were fighting. Some thought she was one of the rare few born without one. Chloe was a member of the latter group. It all came to a head when she was fourteen.
“Poor little Marinette. I guess even fate is choosey when it comes doling out soulmates.” Most days, Marinette was good at drowning her out. But that day was his birthday. Her traditional drawing already marred her wrist. “Who would want to be your soulmate? Even if you had one I would bet he would be the scummiest, the most disgusting-“
“He was wonderful!” Marinette screamed. She marched over to Chloe, poking her in the chest. “He was kind, and creative, and funny! He played piano, and he liked cats. He had blonde hair and green eyes, and he loved me!” She could feel tears threatening to overflow as she screamed at Chloe. “And now he’s dead! He died Chloe! I will never meet him!” She could see the horror growing in Chloe’s face, but she had put up with her for too long to stop now. “He died, and now I have to sit here and listen to you disgrace him. I have to listen to you try and sully what few memories I have of him with your lies. I have had enough! Don’t you think I have suffered enough?” At this, Marinette seemed to collapse in on herself. For the first time, she noticed that the entire school was watching. They were dead silent, hanging on her every word. She felt heavy as her tears finally dripped down her cheeks. She looked back up at Chloe, hugging her arms. Chloe was looking on with horror frozen on her face. It would seem even she had a since of decency. Finally, she whispered to Chloe, “Haven’t I suffered enough?” and fled the school. Tears blurred her eyes as she ran. On her way out, she bumped into a blonde boy she could barely see through her tears.
“Are you ok? Can I-“
“Please don’t touch me.” Marinette choked out and continued on her way out. Once home she locked herself into her room. She refused to come out the rest of the day.
The next day at school, four things happened. First, Chloe avoided her. She wouldn’t look at her or sit near her or talk to her. This suited Marinette just fine.
Second, two new kids were introduced to the class. Marinette was studiously avoiding looking at anyone and was doodling in her sketchbook, so she missed their names. It wasn’t until the girl sat down next to her, that she looked up.
“Hi, I’m Alya, what’s your name?”
“Marinette.”
“Well, Marinette, we’re going to be best friends.” Marinette could feel a smile tugging at her lips as class began.
Third, Ivan turned into a rock monster. Like literally made of rocks. The crazy new girl went running after him yelling about super heroes, and Marinette ran home.
Fourth, Marinette became Ladybug. When she got home, she found a weird box with earrings inside, and a magic talking bug that turned her into a spandex wearing superhero named Ladybug. It’s safe to say the Marinette’s life was never same.
She gradually grew accustomed to her new role and her partner, Chat Noir. They learned to work together and managed to do a decent job of keeping the city safe. She enjoyed having a purpose, even if her partner was a little ridiculous.
Marinette was not very involved in school after her fight with Chloe. Chloe no longer bullied her, but much of her class looked at her with pity. She couldn’t stand it. She eventually discovered that the other new kid’s name was Adrien. Looking at him was a like a punch in the gut. Blonde hair, green eyes, named Adrien. If it weren’t for his subdued and reserved attitude, he could have been her Adrien. She tended to avoid him if only to save herself the pain of digging up old memories. Someone must have clued him in as to why, because he left her alone. She caught him looking at her sometimes, but he never forced a conversation with her.
A year later found her at fifteen celebrating Adrien’s birthday alone. Alya caught her drawing on her wrist before class started.
“What are you doing? I never see you writing on your arms.” She couldn’t see Adrien perk up in front of her and decided to answer truthfully.
“It’s my soulmate’s birthday,” she explained, “if he were alive, he would be fifteen today.” Marinette didn’t notice Adrien slowly turning around in his seat to look at her, she was too busy drawing, but Alya did. “Every year on his birthday I draw the same thing here on my wrist it’s my way of remembering him. See he loved black cats, and I like ladybugs. We used to tell each other stories where I was the princess and he was my knight. This is how I remember him.” She showed the completed drawing to Alya, then rolled her sleeve back down and got her books ready for class.
Alya stared at Adrien’s wrist as the same drawing took shape there. He was staring at Marinette completely dumbfounded, before he turned to meet Alya’s eyes. In them he learned a new definition of fear. Alya was looking at him with murder in her eyes.