Crona's eyes blinked open, and he was looking at what looked like endless grey skies. The only salvageable shreds of his memory laid in three concrete facts: his name was Crona Gorgon, his blood was black, and he had a brother named Ragnarok within his flesh. "I can't deal with this." That too, was a phrase that struck him as familiar as he tried desperately to find more—more things to recognize, familiar surroundings, something. But, in the vast plains, he had nothing. Nothing but himself, and the three facts he knew.
Crash!
An ear-piercing thunderclap echoed through the plains. Crona jolted back out of surprise. Sweat formed in beads along his forehead. What should he do? What could he do? Just then, he felt a bit of liquid drop onto his robe. Then another. For a second he could've sworn they as tears, but as they congregated on his head, face, and everywhere else, he came to the obvious conclusion that he was in the midst of a rainstorm. Drops and drops fell from the sky, growing more plentiful with each passing second, much to his displeasure.
Crona's worry slowly began to overtake him as the nature around him grew harsher. Just for a moment, he summoned his rational mind, and redirected his thoughts. Find shelter. He thought to himself. He observed his surroundings and looked desperately for something to hide under, if only for a little while. His eyes shifted from one location to another, until he could faintly make out a mountainous region in the distance. Purely driven by instinct, he forced his thin legs to sprint.
As he made his way towards the shelter, he could more clearly identify the overall look of the mountain. From the foggy distance, it did look rather tall, but as Crona's vision began to collect itself, it appeared to be what looked like a cave. The outside of the cave was very shady looking, sharp stalagmites sticking out like thorns to a rose, and scattered junk everywhere. Crona began to turn around, pondering whether to brave the fierce storm or venture into this suspicious cave. Just as he was about to go back into the downpour, a flash of lightning caught Crona off guard, and quickly made up his mind. He was going into the cave.
"Hey, Lord of Evil speaking, I'm too busy with evildoing get to the phone right now, if you got a soul or two to spare, let me know after the-" Beep. Marceline hung up the phone in anger, and stormed off to her room in a sulk. For nearly a month this cycle had gone on, from the tense waiting period as the phone rang, the hopeful sound of her father's voice, and the crushing disappointment of the same, dull message that haunted her very nightmares.
"Hey dad, just incase you forgot, you've got a daughter too…" Marceline muttered to herself as she levitated slightly above her bed, staring at the plain ceiling. To take her mind off things, she reached under her bed and fiddled around a bit until she finally grasped hold off her prized possession, a family heirloom to be passed down from generation to generation. Her family Axe, which she had craftily tweaked to dual-function as a Bass Guitar. On a shelf next to her bed, there was her Journal, and a pen with red ink, which she also grabbed. These three things served as her emotional outlet to the stresses and pressure of her natural life. Within each page of that small, packet of paper held together by mortal material, held a story to tell, of tragedy, of success, of sadness, of things only certain individuals can comprehend.
"Daddy, why did you-" As Marceline's spark of inspiration began to spring to life, something interrupted her: her sense of smell. She quickly dropped her Bass and her Journal on her bed and let her sense of smell guide her. She could sniff out a human being, albeit not a normal one. "Probably just another mutant, no big deal." Marceline thought, it had definitely had blood, though something was rather… off about it, though Marceline didn't question it. It was time to prove to herself that the Vampire Queen had not gone soft.
Crona tiptoed through the shallow water, as to not awaken any possible monster or beast within the caves. What he saw just a little bit ahead baffled him. "A h-house? I don't understand… Who would think to live out here?" He said to himself. Uneasily, he continued to quietly wade through the water. Then, something stopped him dead in his tracks.
A shadow figure quickly shifted across the wall of the cave. Crona could've sworn it was something. His body began to shake involuntarily as the shadow only came closer. His heartbeat became quick, practically to the point where he could feel it bursting out of his chest. The shadow figure drew closer, and closer, and then… It stopped, the shadow began forming together to create a human-esque shape, a silhouette. He could hear footsteps coming closer and closer towards him. Nervously, Crona summoned Ragnarok's Demon Sword form. As soon as the fleshy lips on the Longsword formed, he immediately piped up.
"Croooona! You stupid idiot! Because of you, I can't get out! You're lucky I can't punch you right now!" Ragnarok yelled, clearly angry.
"Wait, I don't understand… How are you 'stuck'? And how is this my fault?" Normally Crona wouldn't talk back towards Ragnarok, but his worries were somewhat cleansed knowing that his normal abuse would be limited to verbal abuse.
"I stuck in this dumb sword form! I can't get out of it, no matter how hard I try! And it's all your fault because…. Hey! Shouldn't you be worried about getting your skin torn off!" Crona quickly shook his head and directed his attention towards the 'person' in front of him. He took up a shaky battle stance, and tried his best to look intimidating.
Marceline blinked. At least two of her senses were playing tricks on her right now. First of all, where did that guy's sword come from? It was almost like some magic show, it formed in mid-air in a purple-ish liquid. Second of all, that sword of his talked. Marceline couldn't even describe that on her own. Marceline quickly gathered herself together, and a maniacal smirk formed on her face as she pointed her Ax at the stranger.
"Heh. Looks like today's you're unlucky day. Sucks to be you, am I right? Too bad you had a run in with the Vampire Queen." She rather smugly. Her satisfaction only grew as she saw the terrified moment of realization on the stranger's face. The Stranger himself also looked quite odd. He looked about a year or two younger than Marceline, wearing a black robe covering most of his body, with light-pink hair that nearly went down to his neck.
Quickly, Marceline raised her Ax and slammed it on the stranger fiercely. As she looked down to see what she expected to be a bloody corpse, the Ax had only made contact with the mud below. The stranger had just barely jumped away in the nick of time. Swiftly, she lifted up the Ax and flew over to the stranger, attempting to decapitate him with overwhelming, rapid horizontal slices, who only avoided them by mere inches. Eventually, Marceline began to back the stranger into a corner of the cave. Frustrated, she raised the Ax once more, and prepared to end the brawl with one fell swoop…
Marceline expected to feel a satisfied "SHING" of the sound of sharp metal cutting flesh, but the blade seemed to make the sound of Metal hitting a rock. The Ax just seemed to… stop. It had very clearly hit his head, but he showed no signs of pain. Nonchalantly, the stranger removed the blade from the top of his head with his hand. What caught Marceline off guard was his hand, it was covered in blood… Black Blood. Granted, in her 1000+ year lifespan, she had seen some pretty weird stuff, but this, by far, may have been the strangest.
"Um…. I'm not very good with girls, I don't really know how to talk to them." The stranger said, not making eye contact. His cheeks were glowing red with embarrassment. With that, Marceline grew furious.
"C'mon already, you should be dead!" Marceline cried. Stepping up her game, she transformed into a demonic, giant bat form about two times her own size. Recklessly, she charged directly at him, and shoulder-bashed him. The stranger was easily overtaken by the sheer force behind the attack and was flung against the cave wall.
"Alright Marcie, go in for the kill" She thought to herself. Marceline shifted back into her human form, and crept towards the fear-paralyzed stranger. For the last and final time, she raised her blood-red Ax above her head and prepared to get her first kill in ages.
It was just then, that something stopped her, dead in her tracks: her very conscience. The Ax stopped, as if she had hit an invisible barrier mid-cut. Her grip on the Ax was growing shaky. Was this really what she wanted? To please a father who hadn't spoken to her in over a month? No. She had better things in life to do then follow in the footsteps of some lame dark lord. Without a word, she turned away from the stranger and walked back to her house with her fists clenched.
"I haven't gone soft… I just…" Marceline thought to herself, searching her mind for a valid excuse.
Crona rubbed his eyes as his mouth hung wide open in awe. He put his hand to his chest as he felt his skyrocketing heart rate start to die down. He heard the sound of a door being shut behind him, and saw this as an opportunity to escape. Crona slowly climbed out of the crater in the wall, and with every ounce of remaining strength, he ran.
"Smooth move, Crona! Because you had to run into a Vampire Cave, you almost killed us!" Ragnarok said, steaming with rage.
"I don't know how to deal with monsters! They're terrifying…" Crona said, his shoes made a soft, scrunching noise as he ran through the puddles of the cave.
"Terrifying, huh?" Crona immediately came to a halt in his escape. He could faintly see the exit, but it was being blocked, by the vampire. This was it. It was over. Ragnarok quickly dispersed back into Crona's bloodstream. His mouth opened, but it made no noise, just hung open, like a gate to Hell. His whole body shook with fear as he awaited his final fate, all while the Vampire stood there with a malicious grin.
The Vampire lifted up his limp body by the collar of his robe. Her words were cold, and her breath sent chills down his spine. "Congratulations. You've just landed a spot as my Henchman. For the rest of your life." The words pierced Crona harder than any hit he had suffered in the previous battle. His life was over.
AN: Hey fellow readers, thanks for taking the time to read this huge first chapter. I'm going to try my best to flesh out Crona and Marceline's character traits beyond 'Crona's a scaredy cat' and 'Marceline has daddy issues'. Constructive Criticism is welcome!