Yebe, yebe, yebe~~~ Maggie is BACK. :D Surely, now you have seen me and my tragedy prowess in action at my last story, now I am back for some more o

Now, for some disclaimer. This story is really just some sort of restatement of a Fiolee story made by a good friend of mine. It was entitled "Decretum". It's a really good story, guys! So good that it inspired me to make an elaborated version of it (with the author's permission of course ^_^) But, before you read this, I suggest you read Decretum as well. Ya know, for comparison and such .

Okay, then ^_^ Please enjoy Berceus!

-v-

A breathe and the mask on his face was discarded...

-v-

He was dead.

For once since that fallen monarch had so, this was the King's first time to acknowledge that fact with earnestness and bereavement instead of demented joy. He need not be, although, for whatever had transpired during those dark days had nothing to do with him. He was out of this, after all, seeing that he had turned his back from the kingdom of sweetness and all that and went back home to rule his own.

But, nevertheless, he still grieved, even if in such a subtle manner he wondered how in hell he even noticed.

In his mind, he still remembered those words that came out of a certain cat's lips as the Candy King lay on his death bed, frail and hopeless.

Everything will be fine, Your Highness! Fionna will come back with a cure for you; that I guarantee...

A small grim line formed itself in the Dark King's lips.

...So, keep holding on for her... Please...

A shiver ran up his spine as those words played on rewind in his head, but soon a manic, somewhat inquisitive grin conjured itself on his pale countenance as he reflected on those words.

What if she did? He wondered silently. In time at least... Would she have been enough to stop you from leaving...?

If the answer was 'yes', then he didn't know what he should feel at the thought of holding her back.

Should he be happy he was now gone and free to meet his maker...? Or be sad, instead, and pretend he has a heart that can feel compassion for his once-called comrades?

The grin diminished in color. Suddenly, everything about him seemed monochromatic at the thought of the blonde adventurer.

So, so pitiful Fionna... So very pitiful... What have you become?

He remembered her clearly that day. The white tattered dress, destroyed from treading the dangerous paths to reach his domain, the long blonde hair that was pulled back, and the tiara that nestled on top of it all.

She was... so beautiful, he remembered.

Marshall, I need you...

"Need" was such a powerful word at that time. He had never heard those thin yet rich pink lips pronounce it with such contempt, yet with so much sincerity as well.

He never knew it was possible to combine those emotions before.

Ah, the things she makes him realize. It was surrealism.

It was unreal.

H-he needs you, Marshall... Your power... The whole kingdom needs you... I need you... Please, as the Queen of Candy Kingdom, I beseech you, Lord of the Nightosphere...

So, so pitiful...

Save him, Marshall...

So very pitiful...

"Knowledge is power"—it was the unspoken truth of the universe, or at least the belief of those that have been left. He himself had never succumbed to its meaning, not until he saw himself the fatal consequences of it when reaching the point of extremities.

Too much is never good, after all...

Save him...

Why should he save him? He died of his own stupidity, despite his well-renowned brains throughout the land. He died for trying to know the secrets of death—something that his world wildly disapproves. He had defied all the earth's accepted beliefs—what gives him any right to achieve salvation, especially from him of all people...?

But, then she came, and things began to tilt in his well-balanced head.

She chose him, hasn't she, and for this he wasn't surprised. It was already an obvious fact ever since he had first known her. There was a meaning to her blushes and stuttering, and that fateful day was it. The day of white and gold, and church bells and vows... Those fanatical things...

But what he had never expected was the reaching of the farthest point of what he had once dismissed as a petty crush.

"How far will you go for someone you love?"—the vagueness had always left him hanging. He never believed there was a length for love's extremes, until he had seen it for himself. The way she stared up at him with so much contempt and hatred and disgust...and then the way she suppressed them all and even let her pride go so low for the sake of someone whom she loves...

She truly loves more... He wasn't surprised.

But to throw away that love for the likes of him?

What have you become, Fionna?

And why would I save him, my dear Queen? Hmm? What will I possibly gain from lending you my power...?

She loved him too well. That was her flaw.

He banished me from your Kingdom. He left me no choice but to come back to the home I have resented and was forced to rule this place instead. He...

The feeling of her soft, smooth skin still lingered on his fingers, making them involuntarily fidget, much to his dismay.

He even took my Queen away from me...

I was never yours Marshall...

True. She was never his. But, he wanted nothing more than just that. To have her. To own her.

Who wouldn't want to bear the Last human on Earth in his own grasps?

Hmph. Hmph. Well, then...

You won't do it?

I never said I wouldn't... All I'm asking for is a reason to do it... I don't like doing things as repulsive as this without a price at stake...

W-what do you want...?

He felt himself lick his lips for no apparent reason. The taste of her blood on his lips? May as well be the most delicious feeling of all... She had always been his favourite treat, but back then he was holding himself back. He wanted his lust for her delectability to grow... And now that he had reached that point that the mere scent of her skin lingering two metres from him can drive him absolutely mad with hunger, he'd do anything...

Even if it means rescuing the unpromising ruler from his impediment.

So, do we have a deal?

Hmm... I don't know, Fionna. What if you're misleading me?

I won't do that, Marshall. That's not my thing.

I know. But, your walking piece of candy shit can make you do things even I wouldn't expect... How can I trust that you'll keep your promise?

I promised Marshall... And I always. Keep. My. Promises.

And she had kept it, indeed.

Sad to say, she was never able to reach him in time. He died while she was trying to convince him of her sincerity. She had no choice but to watch from the sides, dumbfounded, as his body was tended to and sent to its final destination. Never had he seen such broken-hearted eyes, especially from hers. She had been heartbroken many times, don't get him wrong, but this was the first time—the only time—he had seen her manifest it so greatly that she never stopped weeping, up 'til this time.

Fionna had never cried like this for anything. Most especially not for him.

But, of course, why would she cry for him? To her, he was now a nobody. A King of all things evil and the source of Black Magic if ever she intends to need it.

But, now, his image shall be different. He shall make it different.

From a friend... to a King... to an enemy... to a dark genie...

...and lastly to a killer...

"Marshall..."

He slowly turned and stared at her, who in turn, looked up at him with that same contemptuous stare. Marshall couldn't help but feel amused.

"So, you've come, my dear Queen..." he purred, floating down from his pedestal while performing his mock bow at her. He was never the one to be of respect to any other loyalty other than himself. To him, he was the only King... No other else...

"Why? Whatever would you permit yourself think?"

"That you wouldn't come..." he slurred, gliding around her in a playful manner. "You never paid respect to the time and direction and will of death, so much that you even attempted to turn its tide... Why else would I doubt if you could respect a deal made out of desperation?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I always keep my promises..."

"Promises were meant to be broken, Fi," he whispered, finally settling himself in front of her.

"Not the way I've been brought up to believe..."

His face had suddenly stoned. "You weren't even able to save him, Fi..."

"That's the sad truth I have to face..."

He tried to watch her again. To see if the determination in those clear blue eyes will waver, even if just a little bit.

"Why did you choose him?" he muttered under his breath. "What have you seen in that moron? He only thought of himself... he never even loved you... He only took you out of pity..."

"You question me choosing the person who've been nothing but nice to me," she sassed. "Well, I'd rather have someone who feels nothing but pity for me than that someone who had wanted nothing else from me but my blood..."

He felt hurt at that moment. But if ever it actually reached the old Marshall, he never showed it to her.

He had enough of putrid emotions such as this...

-v-

A breathe and the mask was veered back on his face.

-FIN-

I would like to thank JustSittin'OnCityRooftops for her absolute generosity in lending me the idea of her story ^o^ Thanks, baby ^o^ If you guys are interested with the story, here's le link :3 : s/8775481/1/Decretum

Thank YOU too, dear reader, for lending me your time :) hope to make an update soon ^o^

Please review :D

LoveLots~