A/N: This is continued right off of ch. 2. so if you haven't read it, or don't remember right where it lead off, I'd suggest going back and re-reading.
"Marshall...What happened?" Fionna asked slowly. He was gripping her waist, flying at top speed. She didn't want to make him mad and fall into the distant trees, that were flashing by down below.
The stressed vampire didn't answer right away. He continued to look straight ahead. It was hard to hear with the wind whipping at her covered ears, but she thought she heard him sigh.
"I told you, I was drunk. I'm so stupid! I'm not even sure what I did!" He yelled out, hysterical. "I haven't even heard anything from him all day, since I woke up on my couch. The only thing that reminded me was that pink stone with globbin' red on it!"
Fionna could tell he was on the verge of tears. She grabbed the umbrella from Marshall's cleanched hand so he could wipe his nose. "It's okay. I would've heard something, or Cake would've, if the...if the worst possible happened."
Marshall felt slightly reassured by her words. It was true, Fionna would've had gotten a gumball knight at her door first thing in the morning, if, if something had happened to the Prince. Their beloved Prince. So, if he was still alive, why hadn't Marshall had furious guards pounding on his door this morning? Surely they knew it was him who committed this horrible drunken crime?
The Kingdom was nearing; they saw the glare of the shiny rooftops, the bright pink that drenched almost all the buildings. The peppermint cobblestones were swept clean, in soft oranges, greens, purples, and blues. Wait, how could they see the coblestones? Marshall dared a sneak at the sun. Singging the tip of his nose and answering with a cuss word under his breath (and a small snicker from Fionna) he saw it was right smack in the middle of the sky. Why were the streets empty, especially in the middle of the day?
"Where is everybody?" Fionna asked, voicing his thoughts.
"I...I don't know..." He answered, worried once again. Usually it seemed everyone in town was usually out, specifically on weekdays. As he looked more closely though, he saw through the mini-sized windows, that curtains were shut tight as they past. With his strong hearing he heard some of the doors lock as well.
Great, everybody know how terrible a person, no. He didn't even diserve that title anymore. People don't hurt the others that they love. Rogue creatures that belong to the night do, though. No wonder he was the king of all of them, the worst all of them.
"Um, Marshall, where are you going? The door's that way, you just went past it," Fionna glanced up at him, thumbing back over where the grand doors were.
"Oh, sorry, just used to taking the more direct route, I guess," Marshall said, embarrassed. He was headed towards the balcony, leading right inside to Gumballs room. It was pretty much the only room he knew in the whole palace. It wa the only room he needed to know. That's when he had started remembering what they had done in that very room, when Fionna cleared her throat.
"Um, Marshall?" He looked down at her, raising an eyebrow. "If you don't mind, why you don't you start thinking of nuns, or sick kittens, or something else besides what you're thinking about now, please?" She said strangely, but then kicked his thigh. Oh. Oops.
"Sorry," he muttered with a smirk, then looking back down at the door, he added, "I'll take that umbrella now."
She handed him the handle as they landed in front of the large doors. "So, do we just go in, or knock first, do you suppose?" He inquired, never having used this very public entrance.
Fionna looked at him. "Dead kittens, Marshall." He whistled, and looked away. Fionna rolled her eyes, and knocked on the door.
"Should I be here? I don't think I should be here. Maybe you should just go in. Everyone's hiding because of me, anyway."
"No, you have to go in. I'm going too, so if they don't let you in, I'm not going either." Fionna said strongly, but there was a hint of nervousness about her injured friend. He gets bruised by a punch on the arm with that fleshy skin. What could he look like now?
He sighed again, but it was cut short with the sound of the inside of the oak door being unlocked, releaving a huffing Peppermint Maid, obviously having a long morning. "Oh! Hello Fionna! What a suprise, being such a long time and-" she cut off from rambling then looked at Marshall with beady eyes. "Marshall Lee, we did not expect you back here again." Marshall didn't look up, but gave a single half-hearted wave in greeting.
"Um, hello, Peppermint Maid, uh, could we see...could we come in and see the Prince?" Fionna stuttered. She cast a sideways glance at the vampire, whose face was shrouded in the shade of the umbrella, but was she could see it was masked in shame, looking down at his withered converse.
"Well...yes, please step in, you two." Peppermint Maid opened the door wider and stepped far to the side, noticably keeping the greatest distance between herself and Marshall possible. As she shut the door slowly, Marshall folded in the umbrella and hooked around his narrow wrist.
"As I was about say was, well, you see...the Prince, is, well, has not spoken yet, since," She quickly looked at the worried King and then back at Fionna, "since last night. He is being held in another room besides his own, where the, uh, stains are being removed. We think he has the ability to, but is just mentally tramatized. So, we gave him a notepad and paper..."
She paused, patting the pockets in her stained apron, stained from what, Marshall nor Fionna wanted to know.
"Ah, yes, here it is. He wrote it this morning after regaining conscieness. He also wrote not for anyone else to read it. No one has, not even myself," She pulled out a small piece of folded paper and handed it to Marshall without meeting his gaze.
Mashall gulped. Anything could be on this paper. 'Its over', or, 'I hate you.' He looked over at Fionna, who was staring at him intently.
"Well, open it," She encouraged. He nervously looked back at the white parchment in his hands, then tried handing it over to Fionna. She shook her head. "It's not for me."
Marshall quietly unfolded the paper, reading the message inscripted, expressionless.
Then, silently folding the paper, slipping it into the pocket of his jeans, he pitched the umbrella, opened up the door, and was gone.
A/N: Sorry if you think this too short. But I thought this would be a good place to leave off for a bit. Again, lovers favorite, and haters, comment, how could I make it better? Hope to hear from people! Next chapter coming soon!
