A/N: I have no excuses or hopes to bring up. Last year's writing published now. I hope you're all well x

Chapter 3: Late Introductions

Outrun a vampire? Really, Bonnibel?

The first thought that occurs to the princess' mind bites at her ego. Clearly, running wasn't a smart decision and yet, her feet had taken up the challenge anyway, and before she knew it, the light treads of the other maids could be heard beside her. She looks up and around, and sure enough ribbons and apple tattoos had followed her – at too fast of a pace. The walls around her as well as the animation of portraits during her run come to a stop.

She pauses her dramatic escapade, a little embarrassed at her sudden run but still curious… They'd caught up in a matter of seconds.

Are they vampires as well? But they don't have fangs.

As if having read the princess' thoughts, Mary begins adjusting her apron, calmly stating, "no deary, we aren't vampires, it's all a part of the Vaiding really. Trains you up, if you know what I mean".

But no, she didn't know what Mary meant and she surely couldn't ponder it over the deep pants of breath she was dragging in and infusing out of her lungs.

"Vaiding," she pants out. Physical exercise wasn't her strong point in anything. Endurance? Unheard of. "What's Vaiding?"

Terry offers a huge grin as she replies, "it's something even someone as stout as me is good at".

"When trained right," Lizza points out thumping her palm onto Terry's shoulder. "Apple-y butt here took near 2 months to get to speed!"

Well that explains a lot about Vaiding. These ladies…

"We're totally ignoring your question purposely! More dramatic and all!" Lizza beams, beckoning to the others for high-fives as she twirls locks of her hair with one hand. They return them much to the princess' surprise and annoyance. "Don't worry about Lady Marcy, you'll totally come to love her! Well, not like that!"

"Questions will all be answered in due time deary, patience is a-"

"For imbeciles! We just like to keep you waiting!" Lizza receives a good slap to her head at this point and Bonnibel questions just what form of company she'd been thrown into – vampire that required fist bumps and maids that galloped like horses and vaiding and that? Anything was a blessing from what she'd been through, so she accepted the people around her, as odd as they were. But would she have to live with the vampire? She feels a twinge of pain circumventing her neck, despite there being no cause for such a thing, her mind unwillingly imagines the sharp dagger-like teeth plunging into her neck, searing through skin and flesh, constantly stabbing over and over at healing skin but still repetitively striking shards of pain. She fears the vampire lady of the house, but more than that, she hates her. These monsters, they're demons, living their lives happily while others suffer. It put to waste every ounce of torture she'd gone through, had it all been so easily disregarded? Then again, why did she expect them to care? Was it the genuinely unusual friendliness they seemed to place on a platter? Bonnibel realised for once in a long time that, she'd forgotten to care about herself. Who else would care for her now? The country, people, world, life she'd grown up in was gone. Replaced by the dark spoilt plain of her current world, with these unknown people and eternal questions. Kindness or spite, death wasn't being granted soon and she was to face the tribulations set in front of her. If her people remained or not, even to invisible eyes she was a princess to herself. And she wouldn't back down. She cared for herself and if not she, was to ask compensation for her pain, who would? Her family, lost forever. She knows it isn't right to hate those who aren't responsible, but the lady was involved, she was a vampire and Bonnibel hated her. What a servant is to a disgusted master, was Lady Marcy to Princess Bubblegum. Ironic. Bonnibel thinks, as she looks at the maids gloves encasing her hands. I'm the servant and slave here.

"Okay, when you're done staring at your hands like some dramatic weirdo we can get some work done! Glob we are maids y'know!" Lizza "totally" destroyed the escapade into her mind. And she'd still embarrassed herself. Escapades a.k.a running away wasn't working at all.

Bonnibel nods, no longer searching for answers, just willing to accept.

Weeks would progress before the Princess eventually learnt what Vaiding was, but before all the hints here and there, she swept, wiped, polished and washed the entirety of objects within the domains of the vast Abadeer mansion. She questioned not anything she was told to do, carefully completing her tasks if not a little obsessively and keeping to herself much more than she anticipated. The master of the house, Sir Abadeer was away on vampire government matters for 2 weeks and order had fallen into the head maid's hands, as heir to the house was much too busy with nothing to care. Bonnibel had grown accustomed to the company of squeaking plates and the constant chatter of the other maids around her, but total recluse had fallen to her as she spent more and more time away from everyone, particularly making sure she avoided Marceline.

Candles lit the walls of tapestry throughout the large dining hall, plumes of gold and red fog lighting up the stern looking faces of decades worth of vampire lineage. Chandeliers of blue crystal hang in pairs from one set of brass double doors leading in from the mansion's kitchens to the grand double doors leading to outer hallways. Fiona hands trays of food around to the other maids, who rush out to set the gold china pieces of delicacies upon a lace embroidered table. A large bowl is thrust into the Princess' hands, and she stares down at its sloppy, dark red contents. The left thumb of her glove soaks in a little of the liquid on the edge of the bowl, turning its white cotton to a damp crimson.

Twirling one of her braids from left to right, Fiona gives Bonnibel a quick appearance check: pulling back her shoulders, tugging her shirt closer to her chest and giving her a tray to place the bowl on.

"Right, so this is your first Red serving. We're lucky, Lady Marceline doesn't feast on blood like her father, and her mother allowed this practice," she nods at the bowl's goo," 100% dyed red jojo tree sap". She moves towards the double doors, taking a look back at the bustling cooks and maids running about in the kitchen, an occasional goblin carrying trays back and forth. "Just place the platter in front of her and don't be frightened, kay? She really doesn't bite".

The princess was somehow, not very convinced by Fiona, partly because one of her braids had been ties into a messy bun at the side of her head making her look like a blonde teapot.

Yet, she moved past the doors Fiona held open and surely enough, finally the dinner being served had its audience sitting at the head of the table on the far side of the hall. Bonnibel takes a brief look down at the sap in her hand and feels her stomach squelch at the now glistening-in-candlelight goo, even if it wasn't blood.

She takes careful steps forward on the left side of the dining table, eyes follow her from behind slightly opened doors, tracking her progress and watching the Lady of the house. Her pink locks bob behind her under a securely knotted ponytail and come to a standstill as she stops at the edge of the table. Reaching over the arms of Marceline, she places the bowl in front of the vampire, allowing herself to take in the deep navy general's coat the vampire appeared to be wearing; tussles of gold littering its shoulder pads and a few badges posted at its chest. She becomes painfully aware of how close her neck is as she almost brushes past the vampire's face. A tingle of breath hits her jugular vein and a streak of panic nearly kicks in as the idea of being bitten right that instant sinks in, but it's dispelled, for the vampire merely speaks.

"So, you're made of sugar, huh?" Her bloody eyes are lined with arabesque kohl and her hair still in a fray behind the dome of her head. Bonnibel steps back immediately, before answering frankly, "yes".

Marceline places the elbow of her right arm against the mahogany wood of the table, her chin following suit onto her downward palm, her eyes trained on the pink maid before her. "So, you must be sweet huh?"

A litany of giggles and chuckles resound behind the kitchen's doors.

The Princess isn't sure how to respond, her hands are at her sides, but at that moment she wasn't sure if she wanted to punch everyone laughing at her behind the doors or smack herself into saying something witty. But she says nothing and a moment of silence ensues, the vampire watches her downward cast face intently; a second wrist propping up her pointed chin.

A nudge at her back relieves Bonnibel of the moment, her hand pulled backwards as she is turned to head back to the kitchen by Fiona herself – teapot head hair and all. Before she leaves the side of the vampire though, the vampire catches her eyes, a small smile gracing her lips.

Bringing dishes out for the vampire to feast on was something she passed on, and walking where she wouldn't "float" was now a tremendous goal.

Do the work, avoid the vampire, go to sleep.

That's all that echoed in the chorus of her schedule, all else was consumed with not screaming too loudly in the middle of a nightmare and thinking about the remains of her lost life. She ponders about the very same even as she polishes various clogs of furniture in one of the dusty drawing rooms. She is so lost in the endless whirlpool of her thoughts, so much so, that she doesn't sense anything or anyone around her…

Marceline's gaze simmers about the soft Intent glare of the princess' eyes as her scrunched up face falls in proportion to the reverent polishing of the room cabinet. A feeling of almost satisfaction tends to linger in ones thoughts if permitted or not-you are able to stare at something without being noticed. The young lady took full opportunity as she began to observe the delicate curve of prominent eye lashes and the rimmed lids - still a little puffy from a night of misery - closing in on each other in light touches.

Such... Interesting eyes.

She keeps away from the word beautiful. Even if it is all that pounds at the thought of the younger girls eyes, so much that she might as well scream it out of her lungs. But rules are rules.

Your thoughts are your own.

Bubblegum's eyes shift lazily from the woodwork, to open widely as she finds that Marceline's face - her captor's daughter's face - a vampire face with all its hidden pointy teeth - was a pointed two centimetres from her own. The light whistle of Marceline's breath caresses her cheek. Her first impulse is of course, to push back on the soles of her feet and take a large step backward. The next is to gasp, as the light pressure at her hips only indicates that the fabric of her apron has found its way tightly clenched in the vampire's hand.

Such beautiful eyes, even when she's freaking out. Oh wait, SHE'S FREAKING OUT.

Marceline immediately jerks her hand back, letting go of the soft white material of Bonnibel's apron in the process and taking a quick look from her hand to the girls face.

Good glob hand, keep to yourself!

"I..." Marceline hesitates, words seem to foam at her mouth but they drown as well, as she refocuses on the light pink orb like pupils that scrutinise her.

Such beautiful eyes.

She sighs, taking a few steps back and swiftly turning to face the other end of the hall. "Nice apron," she states a bit lamely, her back facing the surprised demeanour of the princess. She could almost feel the gaze behind her, penetrating her back.

Marceline was quite used to unusual maids being brought into their household, she'd often make sure that mocking them became a past time. There wasn't anything special about the Candy Kingdom heir, except that she was, well pink and a princess. They hadn't had a Princess for a while, ever since the princess of the flame lord had been transferred. She floats out of the drawing room, making sure not to turn around and further her awkward approach with the pink monarch. She was lady of the damn household, and definitely no queen of rules while her father was away, the maid was her servant – why feel so ashamed? But she could not help but feel a little uneasy and also admittedly creepy. She pauses just outside the doorway, standing with her back against the wall to the left. Her eyes lock with the broad painting of her mother as she tilts her head upward, crimson eyes staring back into hers. The same dropping flared locks, the same carefree smile and a much loved child cocooned in the nest of her arms. Her father was nowhere to be seen, of course, but it did not matter. Her mother preached compassion and kindness, her father waged political war and bloodshed. She liked apples. That was all. She wasn't like either of them, but nor was she in between.

Tchrk! A light clack of wood resounds beside her and her eyes shoot to the space at the doorway. The peering face of Princess Bubblegum is a few centimetres from her own and both their eyes, this time round, share the same flustered startle. Pink clashes with red and that sense of unease returns.

"Looking for someone, Bonni," Marceline croons, purposely dragging the self-dictated name.

Bonnibel on the other hand, politely looks way at the much too close for comfort stare, taken back by the nickname the vampire used so suddenly. Try as she might, she can't seem to muster any feeling of loathing and she finds herself disgusted as a part of her mind wants her to turn back. A part of her secretly wished, like a deep pining, that the vampire would turn away so she wouldn't have to – but of course, vulgar lady of the house wouldn't back down. A part of her, wanted the eyes to stay on her.

Am I sick to be thinking in this way? What the Glob am I thinking at all?!

"No, sorry. I thought I heard something." She pushes down the folds of her dress shirt with one hand, the other holding onto a damp dusting cloth. "Is there anything you require, Lady Marceline?"

Yes, be diplomatic.

"Marcy! Geez, you've been here long enough, learn it Bonni," the wince at such formal mention of her name disappears as Marceline leans forward, "ask Mary to train you for Vaiding." A stern arch of her eyebrows befalls them for a minute second, and then the vampire pushes off through connecting hallways, leaving the princess to once more question Vaiding and find answers as to why her heart was racing not out of trepidation, but, Thrill.