Author's Note: Sorry about the delay, it's been crazy busy over here. I hope I can get the next one up faster, but it'll probably be a lot shorter. Things will be back to normal in a week or two, hopefully.

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4. Marceline's Kck Kck Wedding Armor

There was only one person lying on the bed in the Ice King's matrimonial chamber (as usual), but this time, it wasn't the King himself. Marceline lay on her back, cuffed hands on her stomach, staring at the ceiling with a sly grin on her face and a nasty, nasty little plan turning gears in her mind. She didn't mind that the bed was hard, cold and, well, made of ice, partly because one thousand years of un-death had numbed most of her nerve endings but mostly because she didn't let any little thing like encroaching frostbite get in the way of some sweet, well thought-out payback.

"Look, my little devil, no matter what happens to you out there, no one can rob you of your wits. If you're quick enough and crafty enough, they'll get you out of any jam," her father had told her one day, nine hundred years before, as they picnicked together and watched the damned squirming in the fires of the Night-O-Sphere. "Well, unless they suck your brain out or something, but that's only like a fifty-fifty chance. Now, gimme those French fries. I'll keep them safe for you."

As much as it pained her to admit it, Marceline had taken her old man's lesson to heart, and for centuries on end she'd lied, tricked, and connived her way through a life of excess and degeneracy most high-ranking demon lords could only dream of. She'd managed to weasel her way out of much stickier wickets than this, and without nearly as much effort. She chuckled softly. Tonight would be a cakewalk, and a hoot to boot.

The door slid open and a pair of seriously annoyed penguin seamstresses waddled in, struggling to carry a full-body mannequin into the room. On the mannequin was Marceline's wedding dress, fresh from what must have been its hundredth re-design and much, much weightier than the Ice King had planned when he scribbled it in crayon so the seamstresses would have something to jump off of.

"I hope that lunatic likes it this time," one of them said to the other (for purposes of convenience, all Penguinese will be translated into English for the duration of this chapter). "If she makes me sew one more spike or armored plate onto this thing, my flippers are gonna fall off!"

"You said it, Edna. I'm sick and tired of lugging this thing around. I think my back is about to come out!" said the other, huffing and puffing. "You gotta wonder how that little beanpole will even move in it. Can His Glorious Majesty even lift this thing? If this bruises his self-esteem, he'll keep us up all night with his bawling again, I just know it."

It had been like that all night. When the seamstresses introduced the original wedding dress, Marceline had hopped off the bed, paced around the mannequin a little, and rubbed her chin, possibly pensively. "I'm not so sure about this," she would say, squinting really hard. "It's just not me, you know? I'm not feeling it. This needs a little spark, a little something. Maybe if you guys added, oh, I dunno, big spike-studded shoulder pads or something, it'd be more my style. Oh, and put a nice, solid breastplate on it, too, won't you? Something that can take a few hits and still keep its shape."

The penguins looked at each other, shrugged in a "Well, whatever floats your boat" sort of way, and rolled the mannequin out of the room, ready to work on the adjustments. That was the first time. They'd been in and out of the room countless times since then, greeted each time by a vaguely irritated Marceline who demanded more and more changes. A sturdier helmet, better back support, a good mace attached to the forearm, if possible… the poor penguins had been at it all night.

"Hey! What did I tell you about knocking?" Marceline growled.

"Why, the ungrateful little…" said the penguin who wasn't Edna, named Mabel.

Before she could finish her sentence, Edna quickly reminded her that Marceline was in fact much bigger than both of them combined, and that she should probably stay quiet and hope this was the last time they'd need to put up with the petulant vampire that night. "Steady, girl! Remember, the sooner we can get her to accept the darned dress, the sooner we can grab some shut-eye!" she said.

Mabel had a deep breath, counted to eight (that's as high as penguins can count), and forced a smile.

Meanwhile, Marceline stood up to inspect the wedding dress again. She tugged on the chain mail, looked at her reflection on the polished metal, and tapped it softly with her knuckle, producing a dull clang. "Hmm," she said.

"Dear Cosmic Owl, she hates it," Mabel mumbled grumpily. "I knew it. Here we go, another round of adjustments."

"Shush!" said Edna, jabbing her softly in her penguiny ribcage.

Marceline stood inertly for what seemed like an eternity. Then, she started nodding slowly, and finally, she spun on her heel. There was a great big smile on her face, much to the seamstresses' surprise. "I love it!" she declared.

"Oh, gracious!" said Mabel, nearly collapsing on the spot.

The vampire rubbed her hands together, which was pretty much all she could do with them at this point. "Yup, this is exactly what I want to get married in. Really hardcore death metal, just the way I like it. Let me try it on," she said.

Edna and Mabel nodded in unison and attempted to pull the dress off the mannequin, without much success.

Marceline choked back a giggle. In a minute's time, she'd be free.

"Careful, careful, you're going to topple it!" she said, steadying the mannequin with her bound hands. "Look, I'm a big girl, all right? I can totally dress myself… I'll just need you to help me out of my handcuffs, first."

The penguins exchanged untrusting glances.

"What do you think, Edna? Sounds a whole lot like a trick to me," said Mabel.

Edna shrugged. "Probably, yeah," she said. "But, you know what? That's some other penguin's problem. If she puts on the dress, our work is finished. Go ahead and take off the cuffs, it's way past our bedtime and I for one could use a few winks."

"Gotcha."

Mabel dug around her knapsack for the key, successfully procuring it shortly thereafter. With that business taken care of, Marceline smiled and rubbed her wrists, because that's what people do after having their handcuffs taken off.

"Dynamite," she said, turning to the mannequin and the dress thereon. "Thank you, ladies. Just one more question before I try out my new threads. How well do you think this puppy would do against a thousand-strong penguin infantry? One armed with harpoons, for example?"

Mabel and Edna looked at one another.

"A thousand?" said Mabel. "How much is that?"

"I think it's, like, eight, but a bunch of times," said Edna.

"A bunch of times? Wow, that is a lot."

"I don't think even a dress as kck kck as that one could hold its own against so many brave penguins," Edna added, rubbing the bottom of her beak.

"What a pity. The King's bride-to-be won't like that at all."

"Well, we're not going to tell her that, are we?"

Mabel grinned widely. "Oh, I do love it when you get crafty."

Edna turned to Marceline and put on her serious face. "Your dress can absolutely, positively withstand a thousand penguin-borne harpoons. Maybe even more," she said.

Marceline stared at her blankly. "Yeah, I didn't catch a word of that," she said. Her penguinese had gotten a little rusty following a few centuries of disuse. "How about this. Two squeaks for yea, one squeak for nay."

"Your dress can absolutely, positively withstand a thousand penguin-borne harpoons. Your dress can absolutely, positively withstand a thousand penguin-borne harpoons."

"Ah! That's useful information," said Marceline, already sliding into her dress. She didn't put on the spike-studded wristbands because her wrists were still sore from all that handcuff business earlier, but given that she was now shielded by a couple dozen pounds of solid, metallic armor, she thought she could afford the small negligence.

She floated to the closet (it took a little effort this time, what with all the extra weight) and hunted for her bass guitar and umbrella in a jungle of identical blue robes. She found them, strapped them both to her belt, and turned back to the seamstresses. "I'm off to see my future hubby now," she told them. "You guys have been a ton of fun. Go ahead and get out of the palace while you still can, why don't you? I'm about to rock the house and it would be a shame if you two got caught in the debris."

She winked, blew them a kiss, and drifted out of the room. Don't worry, Finn... I'm on my way...

Mabel shook her head. "They say it's bad luck if the groom sees the bride in her dress before the wedding," she said.

"Good!" Edna replied, throwing her flippers in the air. "After all she's put us through, that little brat has it coming!"

To be continued...