Tie That Binds

Some people spend their whole life looking for their soulmates.

They’re a minority, of course. Most find their soulmate upon reaching adulthood, once they’ve got the agency to move on their own. While looking for your soulmate is no longer a legal obligation, many are still those who choose to follow the strings tied around their fingers, to pick their college and job and life depending on where the rope leads them.

That being said, precisely none of it applies to you, as you cannot even remember the time before meeting them.

“Sashy! Wait for me!” Marcy runs after you, laughing. A green thread runs from her left pinkie to your right one. Your own left hand is tied in blue, all the way to Anne- who is herself tied right back to Marcy, in the happiest of triangles.

“C’mon, Marbles!” Anne grab Marcy’s hand, dragging her along. “Come on, let’s go!”

You laugh, seeing them together, and you think you may be the luckiest girl on earth.

Your parents were not soulmates.

Obviously. Else they’d have stuck together. You ask your father, once, why he didn’t just marry his own soulmate. We’re not interested in that sort of relationship, Sasha, he’d replied with a soft smile. Being soulmates isn’t about romance. It’s about having each other’s back, always.

You’d thought at the time that it made sense. People grow apart and feelings change but soulmates, soulmates always stay together. Marcy, Anne and you will stay together. You will make sure of it.

Marcy is good, at his whole soulmate thing. She’s the wit to your strength, the strategist to your determination. She makes the plans to bring your craziest ideas to life, agrees with most of your thoughts, and the two of you happily enable each other.

Anne is… less good at it.

It’s not her fault. She doesn’t know how the world works yet. She’s too nice. Her family is too kind. She goes against you, every once in a while, citing morals and rules and a thousand other boring intangible things so much less important than the fun the three of you could have. 

She’s lucky you’re her soulmate. A lesser person would take offense from the repeated disagreements. You know how to guide her back to the right path. This is how soulmates are meant to be; always in agreement, always together, supporting each other no matter what.

This is how soulmates are meant to be, and you will keep the three of you this way. You’re not letting a single thing tear the three of you apart. Nothing. 

(Not even yourselves.)

And then Anne’s birthday happens, and the music box, and this terrible light, light, light, boring into your eyes burying itself into your heart, and there is not a single thing you could do to keep them by your side.

Your cell is cold and humid. The toad is ugly and cruel. But the strings are still bright around your fingers, which means your soulmates are still alive, and if nothing else this keeps you upright.

You get free, eventually; get yourself crowned lieutenant, and find yourself leading the toad army. You did not expect to find the rebel frog by following Anne’s string, but you are certainly not complaining at the time.

Until everything goes to shit, that is.

“Come on, Anne! I’m your soulmate! Listen to me!” 

Toads don’t have the concept of soulmates . Neither do toads, and, from what you’ve gathered, neither do newts. She may have- befriended some them, but they could never, ever approach what the two of you have. She’ll choose you. She’s your soulmate. She has to.

She does not choose you.

“They’re not just frogs,” Anne snarls, teeth bared, angry eyes, a face you have never seen on Anne before, “they’re my friends! ”

She swipes her sword at you. Soulmate strings are not physical things, not the way flesh and bone are. But when the blade goes through the blue thread, for a second, you think, you fear-

It does not matter. Toad Tower crumbles and you find yourself dangling over the edge, Anne’s hands firmly clasped around your wrist.

“Hey. Hey. Look at me.” She calls. “Everything is going to be okay. Just hang on, alright?”

She’s lying. She’s so obviously lying. Nothing is okay. You’re about to die, and you’re going to drag Anne down with you, and she’s your soulmate but she almost cut the string that binds you, and-

And she’s not lucky to have you as a soulmate. She’s never been. You’re about to drag her down as you always have. You’re poison, you’re rot, your toxicity runs through your strings like a disease, you’re about to die and so will she-

“Maybe you’re better off without me.”

You let go of Anne.

Soulmate strings are not physical things, not the way flesh and bone are. You see Anne strangling to grab onto your thread, to pull you back up. You do feel the tug- but it’s not enough. You fall, and you fall, and

You don’t remember what happens next.

So. You survive.

Unfortunate.

That’s fine. That’s fine. You can still fix this. The three of you are soulmates. You’re bound to be together. You can fix this. You can fix this.

You find the girls into the ruins of some temple or another. Surprisingly, it goes rather well. Anne is eager to get you back on her side, and Marcy never really cared about the morality of your actions before. Things are fine. It’s all going according to plan. Things are fine.

You betray them.

Well, no. that sounds a bit too strong. More accurately, you betray the king of Amphibia. Your soulmates just so happened to be on the same side as him. The difference is important, and you trust them to understand it.

“You are a horrible person, and I am done being friend with you!”

The words hit harder than a slap to your face.

Anne raises a curled fist to her face, the one sporting your string. “If Fate has us together, then I reject that fate.” Her free hand goes to her side, to her sword. She doesn’t grab it- she knows better than to taunt a full army on her own. But the intent is clear. “I would sooner cut my finger off than stay by your side. I would sooner tear it off with my bare teeth.”

You send her off. You don’t need her. Amongst the toad, you don’t need any soulmate at all. You don’t need her. This is fine. This is fine. This is fine.

(This is not fine.)

In a strange plot twist, you discover that the king of Amphibia is evil, which means that it apparently falls onto your shoulders to be the good guy now. You try to explain that to Anne.

She does not listen.

You try to argue. To get through to her. You defend yourself against your blows, throws more words at her, but- she isn’t listening. She wants nothing but her fist to your face. Anne, sweet Anne, gentle Anne, who argued with you on Toad Tower, who held your hand as you fell, who gave you a second chance and a third chance and a fourth chance and-

Anne, sweet Anne, gentle Anne, wrapping your string around your neck, choking you on your own ill-fated relationship.

The bridge has burned, you realize. The bridge has burned, and you were the one to set fire to it.

Marcy manages to open a portal back home.

You don’t intend to go through it. You don’t even intend to survive this, honestly. You tremendously fucked up in ways that can never be put into words, and the least you can do to make amends is stall Andrias long enough for your soulmates to bail and live.

But you can’t even do that right.

One: the impact of the wall on your back. Pain blossoming through your ribs. The taste of blood on the back of your tongue.

Two: a scream. Panic. Horror. I’m sorry, for everything.

Three:

Marcy stands before the portal. Andrias is behind her. He is holding a sword. The sword is going through Marcy.

You pull yourself up. Anne reaches out. Marcy falls.

The portal closes,

And the blue string on your finger snaps.

You go to Wartwood. First to hide. Then, when the guilt gets too strong, when you read Anne’s faith in you inked on the pages of her journal- out of duty. You rally the frogs in a rebellion, don the helmet, and get fighting.

Toads don’t have the concept of soulmates . Neither do toads, and, from what you’ve gathered, neither do newts. But- you think they have strings, too. Not literally, not like human do- but the way they speak of Anne, the way Anne spoke of them… they’re tied together. Fate or choice or love or else. They’re bound together, and these ties that make them trust you, these ties that make them fight with you.

They’re Anne’s people, and you will protect hem as such.

You know the exact moment Anne comes back to Amphibia. The string comes back in full force, tugging so strongly it physically hurts, and when you call to come pick her up all the frogs agree with you.

You don’t know what you expect. Something bad, most likely. You’d sever your hand off if she asked it of you, you’d gnaw the string off if that is what she wished. You just hope she’ll play nice until the end of the war. You do need both of your hands to fight.

But of course, this is Anne you’re talking about. She does one better. She does the unthinkable.

She forgives you.

You have hurt her deeper than any blade could have. You have betrayed her trust countless of times. You’ve proven yourself a failure of soulmate, a failure of a friend, a failure of a human- and still, she forgives you.

“Come on,” she says, “let’s go pick up our soulmate.”

If you cry, she’s kind enough not to mention it.

You march to Newtopia. Your army clashes with the robots. You sneak inside with Anne.

What you see is worse than anything you could have ever imagined.

The core is using her face. The core is using her voice. Linked to her with this ugly cable, this facsimile of a string. It speaks of fate and love and choice, how it’s fated to rule the multiverse, how love is nothing but a weakness, how choice is an illusion. As if it knew anything about soulmates at all.

The core cuts off Grime’s arm. It tears your back in half. It leaves you to die.

Fate, love, choice, bullshit, bullshit, none of it matters even one fucking bit. 

You drag yourself up on your knees, lean on your sword. It’s using Marcy’s face. It’s using Marcy’s voice. It’s using Marcy’s body, Marcy’s, Marcy’s, who is your friend and love and soulmate, Marcy who you will save everything else be damned. 

Soulmate strings are not physical things, not the way flesh and bone are. When you tug on the green string on your hand, it doesn’t do much, doesn’t do anything noticeable at all. It only pulls you slightly up. It only tugs the core slightly down.

That is all that you need.

You use the momentum to pull yourself forward, slashing madly. Soulmate strings are not physical things, not the way flesh and bone are. Not in the way electronics are. Not in the way cables are.

This string, this one snaps in half.