The Last Request

"—MON!"

A scream? He ponders frustratingly a moment, as the small voice continues to echo throughout the endless void around him, until it slowly dies out. The voice is familiar, but he cannot seem to place it with a face. If he focuses a little more, perhaps he can…auburn hair? …No…that's not right…it was raven…wasn't it?

"SI—"

It calls out again. He wonders if maybe the voice is someone that he knows. Maybe it could help him lead his way out of this place…where was he again? He couldn't remember… it hurts to remember.

"That's right, my darling…"

A smooth voice begins to vibrate from deeper into the space…Oh. What a lovely sound. He moves closer to the origin. Its' soft and caring whispers were like little strings pulling him along,

"Stay here with me, and I will end your hurting."

Yes. He wishes to say. But he remains silent. He cannot speak, or use any of his senses for that matter. Nor did he seem to care. All he wanted was to find the voice and / finally? / find a safe haven. Moving closer to the deepest part of the void, he begins to feel his consciousness slip. Eyes slowly closing, he could almost fall asle—

"SIMON!"

Marc—

The memory of a name abruptly stops.

"No, no, no. We can't have any of that now…"

The soft voice resonances deeper into the abyss, leaving the poorconfused man to his thoughts. Marc? Was that someone he knew? He was fairly certain that that voice was a girls…a little girl…and not just any little girl…it was his little girl's voice. Not Marc. Marcy.

"Oh no."

It was snowing. Or perhaps it was the remnants of a blizzard? It didn't matter. Where was his little girl? Was she ok? Oh glob. What had he done? He looks around; the scene looks similar to an aftermath of a battle royal. Frozen bodies of mutants played as statutes around the lone standing man, while there were probably more hidden within the deep snow. Frantic, the white-eyed man pushed his way through the wreckage. Careful to ignore the bodies, he notices a dull pink stuffed animal, poorly stitched, with blue buttons. Blinking, he picked it up. Wasn't this toy something that she liked to carry around?

"She…loved this thing…right?" He questioned aloud, turning it in his hands, further noticing its torn faded condition.

Disregarding a rising urge within himself to abandon the useless thing and forget the search, he tucked it under his arm and moved on in pursuit for his little girl. Without warning, his eyes finally glanced upon a small limp figure, half buried in the snow. Rushing over, he dug out the form of an unconscious, frail, and oddly-skinned little girl. Scooping her up into his arms and brushing frost that had clung to her dark hair, he was able to look closer at her grey face. A name ghosted before him.

'M...M…My little girl?' He wracked his brain for the name.

But each time it seemed the memories themselves gave him the cold shoulder; and would not allow him to access them for the answer.

"Forget. Forget her. Forget. Move on. Leave her. She is no one to you. Forget her. Forget!" A near silent mantra whispered throughout his skull.

His grip on the child slipped as he brought one hand to claw his head, trying to will the voice away—which unfortunately only made it much louder.

"Be quiet!" He shouted to the voice, hoping his ferocity would scare it off.

"Rid yourself of that retched child. She has only been a burden to us both." Apparently, that was not going to happen.

He examined the girl closely, noticing a large gash on each of her legs, freezing burns on her arms, and a small cut on her cheek.

"She's wounded!" He looks around for medical supplies, "Hello?! Is anyone out there—"

"I don't think you want to do that. You might grab the attention of more mutants."

"She'll die if I don't do something!" He shot back, irritated with the indifferent tone of the voice. Somehow, he felt as if a ghost of a smile had reverberated through him.

"Oh, there is a way to save her~" There was a silence between the two, allowing the voice space to continue.

"You must send the creature back to where it came from. A place called the Nightosphere. There, she will be in 'good' hands." A lick of irony slid in the voice, but it was not picked up by the man.

"Now, listen carefully, there is a special way to summon the portal to the Nightosphere—"

It surprised the man that he actually found the strange item he needed within a small tied up bag inside a somewhat destroyed pack nearby, just like the voice had said. Unbinding the pouch, he found a small glass vile of the milk-like substance. Following the next part of the instructions, after placing the child safely beside him, the man dug a small hole into the snow, until he reached the ground where he drew a small goofy face. Biting the plug off the vile, he doused the face with the liquid inside, which hastily absorbed the substance.

The man looked around as if waiting for the voice's next instruction. But before he could even open his mouth to ask what to do, he gasped as a sudden pain struck his mind, his eyes tightened shut as his claws dug into his scalp. It felt like someone had thrown a clawed hand into his brain and started to play with the muscle inside. Squishing the sloshing the mush of his brain, until something had clicked within.

His eyes, glowing as white as snow, shot open, "Maloso vobiscum et cum spiritum!"

A distant rumbling shook the ground around them quickly becoming louder until a flaming opening split the land with the goof face drawn on it in half. The man's eyes dimmed, along with the pressure that had taken over his mind; he stared into the flames as if in a trance. His senses slowly came back to him as he cried out and frantically backed away from the hellish hole that had formed in the ground.

The yelp had caused the sleeping child to stir from her bed of snow. "…mon?"

The man turned, and scooped her tiny form up in his arms again.

"Don't worry; I'm going to get you to where it's safe."

Too weak to stay awake the girl nodded and fell back into the embrace of the man. Standing above the hole, he examined Marceline's dirty face. Wait. Marceline? Was that her name?

"Glob it. That one slipped right past me."

"You! Are you junking up my memories?!"

There was a pause before the voice spoke up again.

"Yes. I am rearranging your memories; for your own well-being, my king."

"My well-being?!"

"Now Simon,"

Simon. That name. It was so familiar… It was…Simon…Petrikov. And…it was…his name… "Ugh. Another one, right past me."

"You even took my name?!" The shout died in an eerie silence.

Distant roars and inhuman grunts danced around him and the unconscious Marceline.

"Now look what you've done. You called them back! Quickly, drop the girl!"

But Simon's grip on her small frame intensified as shadows of dismembered and grotesque creatures closed in the pair.

"You have to listen to me! If you don't she could die, and you, severely injured!"

The creatures drew closer.

"Why should I listen to you? You keep messing me up!"

They were only a few couple meters away. Simon eyes widened, shivers racked up his spine. If he ran as fast as he could, maybe he could—

"Let. Go." The voice commanded.

His hands moved before he could think, releasing the girl and dropping her into the fiery portal—which cleanly sown itself back up. Simon's eyes widened even further, a choked scream stuck in his throat as he fell to the ground and dug into the earth that had swallowed her up. Marcy! Marcy! Oh my glob! What have I done! I'm coming sweetie! I'll—

"Enough, Simon!" The voice, his crown, bellowed.

Unlike all the other times, the crown had a much more powerful grip on his decisions. Unable to control himself, the crown forced him to give up on his pointless struggle to save his precious Marcy. Shaking in resistance, the crown took steps for Simon away from the hole to face an oncoming army of mutants.

"Now, to deal with these nuisances…"

Simon couldn't remember much of the fight. Screaming and screeching, small hand gestures that lit up with a bright blue glow, perhaps some green fluid spewing in places. But overall of the flashing images, all he could see was white.

Simon stood on an icy hill, staring out at a destroyed metropolis.

"Hey." He called to the voice.

"Yes?"

"You're going to get rid of all of my memories, right?"

His mind was already deciding which building would be his future castle of ice.

"That's the plan."

"Well. Can I have one last request as Simon Petrikov?"

There. No wait. That building over there seems pretty tall and proud. A king should have the noblest castle after all.

"Anything for you, my king."

There was a slight pause.

"Can I just… please remember her?"

He shut his eyes as he felt the magic begin to expand within him.

"...I shall see what I can do."

Smiling, the man once named Simon Petrikov saw no more.

Ok, so. I'm not very good at writing. My preference is drawing, but I wanted to give a whirl at this fanfic stuff. I was just chilling last night, and this came to me. I don't really know anymore. So… Yea.