"The loneliest people are the kindest. The saddest people smile the brightest. The most damaged people are the wisest. All because they do not wish to see anyone else suffer the way they did."
Flame Princess
They told her to start a fire. There was a chill this morning in the Fire Kingdom, they said; the first of the long and dreaded Cold Season. To the non-Flamish, it simply felt another sweltering day in the Grass Lands. Fire People however can grow deathly ill in the Cold Season, and seek alternative methods to warm their hovels, or occasionally bask near the rivers of molten lava whenever possible. Although she chose to wear her black iron set, Flame Princess heeded their warnings and threw some firetimber in the great hearth behind her seat, at the end of the jagged obsidian long table. She absentmindedly spooned and sifted through her lunch of propane soup as the council filed into the conference hall one by one.
Cinnamon Bun marched in first, spear slung behind his back, and took his seat at her right hand as her personal champion. Then at her left came Seismic Pool, a snuffly little steward whose shape was the semblance of a squat, lumpy candle. His head shuddered with every snort.
"Are you faring well against the Cold Season?" asked his queen. She cared for her subjects, especially those she closely valued like Seismic Pool.
The old steward smiled at her weakly as he took his seat. "No more than usual, Your Grace," he wheezed. Sickly was a word commonly associated with the Fire Kingdom's eldest resident, and every day Flame Princess feared she may find him one day extinguished in his sleep. But he still had a few years left - in time however Seismic's flame will snuff out on its own, and there was nothing she could do about that but wait.
Together came Magmeius the Magma Mage and Flambo, sitting beside Pool and Cinnamon Bun respectively. As per usual, Magmeius had forgotten some important bauble or report in his solar. Flame Princess granted the court sorcerer leave to retrieve it with a curt nod, and he skittered out tittering like a schoolboy. Before he returned, the final councilman hovered in, sneer as present as the sun.
Flame Princess studied his sly smile, wondering what it meant. She never liked it, no more than she liked him as a person. Even when doing something as simple as taking a stroll through the courtyard he had a way of looking like there was this grand scheme he was planning that only he was privy too. She found it effortless not to like him. Flame Princess regarded the kingdom's treasurer with a skeptical eye. "Why are you always the last here, Fire Count?" she asked with chilly courtesy.
The crackling ball of fire smiled wide, as he always did before speaking. "Apologies, Your Grace," he rasped. "As the kingdom's treasurer, it is my duty to oversee every exchange made and keep constant updates on how full our coal mines are."
The princess nodded. "Mm-hm. And how full are they?"
"Gorged, Your Grace." The Count's long pointed nose twitched, and he chuckled in that sleazy way of his that always gave Flame Princess shivers.
Every day she swore that if it weren't for his skill at maintaining wealth and counting coins, Fire Count would be tossed in a river within half a heartbeat. Nothing about him she liked, the foremost reason being he bears a striking resemblance to her father. That, and he was once ruler of the Fire Kingdom, decades before her father's father reigned. The Count's rule is famous for how short it lasted (three days to be precise) before he was literally cut down by the hero Billy after he tried to marry the old Cotton Candy Princess.
Now he is chained, bound by primeval curses that forces him to serve his kingdom as its stout servant until "the lava rivers harden and fire and water can mingle as one," as the old incantation goes. So far that hasn't happened, and to this day Fire Count remains one of the kingdom's most infamous residents. But curses or no, Flame Princess trusted nor liked him one bit, save for his skill in keeping gold.
They all sat in silence for Magmeius to return from the solar. Meanwhile Flambo hoarded and snacked on the bowl of coals left in the center of the table and babbled away about nothing no one cared to hear. The court sorcerer sprinted in seconds later, breathing hard out of the exhaust ports in his stone body as he fumbled through a stack of papers. Flame Princess gazed about her council, mood still as dour as it had been since her return from the Candy Kingdom.
My most trusted advisers are a naive pastry, a Flambit, a dying old man and a fool and a usurper. What does that say of me?
She forced her woes into the back of her mind - it was time to play the princess. "Hello everybody. We'll start with Fire Count. What's the status on our treasury?"
The Count summoned his stone counting-tablet in a puff of smoke. He held it between two wispy fingers and skimmed, sneering all the while. "Our coal mines flow, Your Grace. We will be able to get our castle well and through the Cold Season."
I wonder what that tablet really says. Does it even have any writing on it? Flame Princess chose to ignore her rampant thoughts. She had a kingdom to rule; no time to dwell on uncertainties that inevitably don't matter. "And what of the peasants?" she was quick to ask.
The Count exchanged a glance with Magmeius, which immediately told Flame Princess they knew this was coming. That made her a little angry, but she counted to ten and kept her cool. "Your Grace, I would just like to say that all of us here admire your connection to the commoners, and your dedication to helping even the lowliest of men and women," said the Count.
Flame Princess slouched in her chair. She understood what was happening here, even if no one else at the table did. Knowing he was untouchable because of his curse, the Count was free to lie straight through his pointy teeth just to spite the honesty-driven Flame Princess. So when he said, We admire your connection to the commoners, what he truly meant was, I think you have a gentle heart, and one day you're going to regret it. She always found herself wondering if the Count realized his code had been cracked a long time ago.
Normally Flame Princess brushed aside his impish games, but today her mood was blacker than ash. "Don't ass-kiss me, Count," she snapped. "Say what's on your mind and be done with it. I heed all of my council, even yours. No need to butter it up."
The Count burst into a cackle that said, 'Look at the fire in this one!' Flame Princess swallowed a growl. "I mean what I say, Your Magnificence." He ran a fiery finger down his stone tablet while humming a mild tune, and then tapped on some scribbling halfway down. "Aha. It is as I feared." He looked up. "My Queen, no one can deny that you've made some large steps in turning this kingdom into a true utopia within just a year of your reign. But the sudden shift in focus to help the poor folk has been running our gold reserves dry." He purred on dry. A shiver ran up the princess's spine, beneath her black plate. "If I may, we should leave the commoners to their own devices, at least for the Cold Season. Our resources will have more than enough time to replenish in the short cold months, and still we would - "
"No." For once, the Count frowned. "I thank you for putting out your suggestion, Fire Count. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to decline; leaving the commoners whose love I have just begun to earn in their most desperate time of the year is not acceptable."
The Count's body flared in his seat - for a moment his glow stretched halfway across the black obsidian table before receding back to his own area. "My Queen, who is forever as wise as she is generous, our coal and treasury stockpile will endure a severe beating if we don't impose some kind of a tax. If we were to raise the price of coal - "
Flame Princess raised a hand to silence him. "They're not called 'commoners' for their wealth, Fire Count." At her left, Cinnamon Bun snickered, and the princess allowed herself a chuckle. But she saw Magmeius and the treasurer exchange a glance colder than ice, and Flame Princess found her elation whisked away in a single breath. They think of me as a child. Well I'll show them.
"Increase the production of Fortifier," she suggested. "It's cheap to produce and preserves high body temperatures. Distribute them to the commoners at a reasonable price. If you must inflict taxes, do so on the nobles, or cut military funding. We have no need for an army at the moment; we haven't been in a war in over two hundred years."
Her word seemed to take everybody by surprise, even Fire Count, who floated there gaping like a fish out of water. Flame Princess allowed herself a smile. I can play this money game too, Count.
But he hasn't ran out of shots yet. Though it took him quite a bit of stammering before he could find the ability to speak properly again. "We have powerful allies in the upper class, Your Grace," he said, speaking low. "They may not take kindly to being appointed the steep taxes needed to raise production of Fortifier, no matter how cheap it is to produce."
"You mean my father has powerful allies in the upper class." If he had the ability to do so the Count would be red in the face, she knew. "I have spoken, Count. See to it that my word is carried out."
An ugly scowl formed across his shuddering face. "As you command, Your Grace." I've wounded his pride. He's not like to forget that.
Flame Princess turned to her master spy. "Flambo, you've been gone for a couple days. What's the word in the rest of Ooo?"
The Flambit wiped his mouth of some flecks of coal. "SP, yous got the floor!" He gestured to the steward before resuming his snacking.
Seismic Pool shuffled through a bundle of stained papers, enchanted so they wouldn't burn, that Magmeius slid to him from across the table. After mere moments of skimming through every sheet, faster than any man Flame Princess has seen read before, he set them aside and moaned into his folded hands. "Flame Princess, my darling queen, I fear with this I must be blunt."
The princess felt a giant hand crushing her chest. Is it Finn? Did I wait too long? "What is it, Seismic?" she asked gently.
The old candle sighed. It clearly pained him to tell her this. "Sophia has passed away last night."
Sophia... Flame Princess's mouth hung open but no words came. She couldn't find words to speak. "Slime Princess? She...she's dead?"
"Mm. A flu. I'm sorry, princess. I know you looked to Slime Princess in the first days of your reign for wisdom. She will be missed." Flame Princess felt Cinnamon Bun's hand move under the table, and give hers a reassuring squeeze. She returned the gesture. My knight, my friend. "But that's not what brings concern," continued Pool. "If what Flambo reports is accurate, then her sister Blargetha has inherited the crown."
I didn't even know she had a sister. "What is there to be worried about?"
That was when Flambo spoke up, sounding surprised as he spoke between mouthfuls of coal. "You mean t' tell me that ol' Finny never told ya?" She shot him a look. "Ah, righto...naw, but I'm serious! That Blargetha dame is baaaaad news, lemme tell ya: a while back, she tried givin' her sister the boot and transform Slime Kingdom into an army to take over Ooo. Not even kiddin'. Luckily our boy Finny stopped her, so yeah, things were good."
Fire Count found the whole tale incredibly amusing. "An army?" He saw this to be a perfect opportunity to tug at Flame Princess's nerves. He looked to her, sneering wide and said, "Cut back on military spending, Your Grace?"
With a slam of her fist she snapped at the Fire Elemental, "Enough!" Her voice lashed like a whip. "I will hear no more of that. It could take years before Slime Kingdom turns into a military state, and besides, she has Elder Plops giving her council and keeping her in check."
"Sit and wait!?" shrieked Magmeius, always the worry wart. "Sit and wait?! We, the Fire Kingdom, one of the most powerful nations in all of Ooo, suggests to sit and wait for the Slime Kingdom to come knocking at our doors?" Your sire would have never stood for this, was what his tone implied. Flame Princess shot him a glare. Sometimes that rock could never hold his slippery tongue and think for a moment.
It's sometimes a wonder how Father ever stood this poor little sorcerer. Most days he was more of a librarian than a professor of pyromancy, squatting in his giant library waiting for no one seeking his "wisdom."
"Relax, Triple M," Flame Princess said with a semi-forced smile. "Assuming that the Slime Kingdom does try and make war, it still has to get through the twisted labyrinth of the Jungle Kingdom, the might of Candy Kingdom and its close allies the Earldom of Lemongrab and Lumpy Space."
Magmeius regarded his queen as if she's gone mad. Lava dribbled from his stony pores like smoking blood. "Slime Kingdom is forty thousand strong, Your Grace. And the Earldom and Lumpy Space are forces to be reckoned with, yes, but their alliance with Candy Kingdom is, well, 'alliance' may be too kind a word."
"And what makes you say that?" If there was one person she trusted to give a detailed report on anything in Ooo, it would be Magmeius, as worrisome and clumsy as he might be.
The mage must have seen this as his moment to shine, because he began to babble excitedly under his breath as he shuffled through his stack of wrinkled yellow papers. Looking at it, one could be forgiven for forgetting that that had once been a compendium detailing every kingdom in the wide land of Ooo. Some dynasties took up three pages, front and back, while lesser ones like the Hot Dog Kingdom barely took up half. Magmeius's beady red eyes widened when he drew four, one that just barely filled a side on the recently-established Earldom of Lemongrab (and thus was the page with the least amount of stains and tears) and three on Lumpy Space.
He laid them out in front of Flame Princess. "The Earldom is only five-hundred strong," Magmeius explained, pointing at a tiny scribble the queen couldn't quite see before he swiped it away. "Lumpy Space, while one of the few kingdoms with air power, has always had strained relations with Princess Bubblegum. And the Third Earl of Lemongrab has had zero contact with any of the other kingdoms, so his loyalty to the Candy Kingdom is still up to question." He yanked and stuffed all of the pages back into his pile, lava weeping from his pores as his own way of sweating. "What I'm trying to get at, is we shouldn't cut back on military spending and try to forge an alliance with the Candy Kingdom, should the worst come to pass."
Old Seismic Pool suddenly spoke up then, which actually gave Magmeius a start. "And how many wars has the Slime Kingdom been in, my young friend?" He worked his lips in and out awaiting a reply. Magmeius placed stiff hands over his pile, and offered a slight shake of his head in answer. "Correct. The Slime Kingdom is one of the most respectable nations to be found across Ooo. It may be gross, it may smell like warm garbage, but it is respectable. It hasn't been in a single war, and our queen is right: it could take years before it makes a complete turnaround into a military state. Slime People are benign by nature to the point where its almost a fault, just as Candy People are instinctually complete boobs and Fire People backstabbers and liars."
Cinnamon Bun looked to his little princess when Pool mentioned that last part - he saw the firmness of her jaw, the spark in her eye, even if no one else at the table could. Only he understood what she yearned for her people. Perhaps Flame Princess and Blargetha aren't quite so different in that respect. All of them are my father's dogs. They always will be, even long after he's extinguished. Except for Cinnamon Bun, my shining knight.
Just for that one glance he gave, the princess offered him a smile of thanks, and he beamed brighter than the sun. My knight, my poor knight. He wants me. He loves me truly, and not as a knight loves his queen, but as husband loves a wife. Her chest ached for the pastry with a heart bigger than it had any right to be. He gave up everything to be with me. Does he know that she knows? Sometimes Cinnamon Bun made it so obvious that she almost felt embarrassed for him. Flambo would always report to her of rather provocative whispers among the commoners regarding her relationship with the non-Flame Person.
"Your Grace?" Seismic Pool leaned closer, his head whirring as he did. "Your Grace, what would you have us do?"
Flame Princess gave a start, sucking in a bit of air. The Four take my teenager attention span. "About the Slime Kingdom?" Pool nodded. "I say wait. All's we're doing is bleating like sheep about knives in the shadows and statistics that could be made irrelevant tomorrow. We should see what Blargetha decides to do, what kind of council she's being given and such. Flambo, I want a daily report on the Slime Kingdom, you got that? Good. Is that all you found in the field?"
"Well I've finally found where they've moved Finny." Flame Princess straightened her back, taut as a bowstring. "The guy's at his Tree Fort. He seems to be doing okay - he was even having a sleepover or somethin' with Jake and the Vampire Queen. I dunno why but I actually went in there and accidentally woke the kid. But don't worry, I got outta there quick as a rabbit, for reals. And good thing too because behind me I heard alotta shoutin'. Not sure what that was about."
So Bubblegum moved Finn to his place. Good, good. "You performed amiably, Flambo. I'd offer you some coals as a reward, but..." She glanced at the empty bowl beside the Flambit's paws and the two of them shared a giggle. Fire Count hooted like that was the funniest thing he ever heard.
"So last but not least...Cinnamon Bun: what's the word on my people?" Her voice indicated no enthusiasm whatsoever, and for good reason. I can't close my eyes and pretend everything's okay, as much as I'd like to.
Her champion looked just as miserable as he breathed deep before starting. "There has been a rise in domestic problems," he began. "Because of your honesty policy, there have been commoners who are so honest that they hurt others feelings. While this may not seem like a problem on the forefront, owners of business have taken to abusing this policy and denying specific customers or even entire groups of people service. On the other hand some are keeping so close to 'old traditions' of keeping secrets that when they do get found out there's...trouble. Magmeius, if you'll please. Thank you." Cinnamon Bun flattened out the paper that the mage had crumpled in anger earlier in the week and read from it, "There has been forty brawls in the past month - " Flame Princess muttered 'Forty'? completely aghast " - and some of the more disturbing reports details the usage of water. Don't ask me how that got into the city. And there's been talk in the streets concerning Finn the Human. Angry talk. They say you lied, or that you had a part in his kidnapping. That knucklehead from a couple days ago who wanted you to take care of the Lich Baby is spouting some nonsense that you're secretly his thrall. And those who are keeping to the 'old ways' laugh in open about how your new law is failing, and soon...so will you."
Flame Princess would have been mad. She should be furious in fact. But apart from the talk concerning Finn (which did bother her because she knew that that was all her fault), it's the exact same song and dance from the last council meeting, a month prior. She coolly waved a hand off in dismissal. "Words are nothing but hot air. Let them talk. All rumors die down, sooner or later."
Cinnamon Bun nodded stiffly. "Okay," he said, sounding uncertain. "And what about the street fights?"
Oh. Right. Almost forgot about those. "Boost the number of Flame Guards patrolling the streets. We have more than stationed around the castle. Is that all?"
Cinnamon Bun made a gesture that resembled one shaking their head. "I'm afraid not. To put it bluntly, Your Highness, the pot is about ready to boil. There's so many liars and patriots running amok that everyone gives each other this nasty look whenever they pass by in the streets. And with the Cold Season upon us it's only going to get worse when they start fighting over space along the lava banks, or kill each other for some Fortifier once that stuff hits the shelves."
"Do we need Magmeius to create more Flame Guards?"
Cinnamon Bun opened his mouth to answer, but the lump of coal piped up first, black smoke fuming from the fissures along the top of his head. "A novel idea, Your Magnificence, but creating more Flame Guards will only result in more mouths to feed and bodies to keep warm. If I may put forth a suggestion, perhaps we can start recruiting commoners into the Guard with promises of warmth and whatever it is the peasants desire."
"And then we'd actually have to start paying them," groaned the Count. "More gold wasted away, on top of producing surplus Fortifier. And we can't necessarily pay them in food and warmth, things they can get for free and without the health risk. Hrm. We could try distributing military aid, Your Grace. Just enough to keep everybody on their toes." Magmeius and Pool and even Flambo seemed to like the notion.
But Flame Princess shook her head at the suggestion. "No. I will not have my people cowering in fear like we're some ruthless dictatorship. History won't compare me to the Fat Earl of Lemongrab - I won't let it."
The treasurer simply looked at Flame Princess and frowned. "As you say, Your Grace." She felt a chill run down her arms. Flame Count settled back into his seat at the end of the table, his flame turning the obsidian table into a sheet of beaten copper.
Suddenly Cinnamon Bun coughed into his fist. The princess tilted her head. "Is that all, Cinnamon Bun?"
The pastry shifted in his seat, beads of liquid sugar rolling down his broad homely face. "If you don't mind, my beautiful queen, I would rather have Flambo or Pool say the rest."
He was already sliding the report to the Flambit on his left when Flame Princess said, "I'm asking you, CB."
Cinnamon Bun looked to his princess, deep black eyes filled with nothing but pity. "My queen," he muttered, purposely avoiding her gaze by looking past her head, "when you named me your personal bodyguard after overthrowing your father, you told me you wanted complete and total honesty, always."
"I get that feeling that I'm not going to like what you're going to say," she said gloomily.
The knight nodded, his little flame hat producing a thin finger of smoke that floated up into the dark stone ceiling. He took a deep breath and said, "The honesty policy is a complete disaster."
Flame Princess's mouth hung agape, and it wasn't because of the ugly truth concerning her new law, that much she already knew (though she certainly tried to ignore it). Cinnamon Bun, you always supported my efforts to transform the Fire Kingdom into a place of honesty, she thought, looking into the guilt etched into his face.
"The commoners are talking," he continued without heed. This was no time to be coy now, both he and his princess knew. "Flambo must have told you by now, there is little love for the way we have been running things these past months. Everyone is aware of how you refuse to kill your father. But the insolent... At first there was only a few, and they kept their chuckles behind closed doors. Now it seems that they're everywhere, and they laugh about you in the streets, restaurants and such. No one takes you seriously anymore, not like they did when you were the fabled daughter of Flame King, who was just as ruthless as he if not more and was forced to live in a lantern because her power was so great. Even when I'm sitting in the same room as bullheaded liars they openly call you 'the Cold-Fire Queen', as a mockery to how your power must have diminished when living in the outside world and you've grown soft. Supporters of the 'old way' talk openly of how things were much better when your father was king, and imply that things would return to normalcy if you were...removed from the throne."
That was a lot to take in, but the only thing that stood out in Flame Princess's mind was, "They hate how the council is running things, is that what you're telling me?"
Cinnamon Bun stared at his queen, big black eyes shimmering brightly against her glow. "You most of all, Flame Princess."
"Me?" The surprise was like to choke her. Anger and grief and a little bit of despair rattled her hands. She hid them under the table. "But...but why?" I thought everybody loved me...
"You are, forgive me my queen, but a child. Among the commoners, it is said that you have naive ideals. And this council, more or less, has been established since your grandfather ruled. Seismic, the Count, Magmeius; they've been around when times were better under Flame King, but you were not. And then you swaggered in one day, with policies and rules that go against Flamish nature. They still regard me as a...a half-baked fool. They say you employed a spy to ensure that everyone remains completely honest, uncaring if it's an intrusion of their privacy. They say you're in league with Princess Bubblegum to run the kingdom into the ground in return for a seat on her council when she 'succeeds in taking over Ooo'. They say you threw the mighty Don John into a lantern with your father because he dared take matters into his own hands - "
"HE WAS A TRAITOR!" she roared. Her hair burst into searing gold flames. Everyone stared at her with giant red eyes, save for the black bulbs of Cinnamon Bun. Ten, nine, eight, seven... Her hair returned to it's normal contained flicker, which she ran her fingers through. "Yes, I'm a naive child and a terrible queen, and I am coward and a liar and grotesquely fat, we can't forget that." Her hands coiled into fists, wrapped around locks of wispy orange hair. Perhaps father was right about me being weak, and it's not because of the poisoned tea. Flame Princess stomached all she cared to hear. "I've heard enough for today. Leave me to my thoughts. We shall gather again before the week's end."
Later that night the princess was leering over her balcony, beholding the red rivers that flowed through her kingdom like veins on dark skin. She thought about everything - her childish views on honesty, the little civil war going on in her kingdom. She wept for an hour over Sophia the Slime Princess's untimely death.
Bad things happen to good people, I suppose.
Flame Princess's body yearned for drink, but when her cup-bearer came with her routine evening tea, the queen had roared at him and sent him running for the hills. Her mood was as black as the rock of which her kingdom was built, and there was only one way to lighten it.
I need to clear my head. I need to kill some things. I need...I need to help Finn. Perhaps that will clear her mind, helping her friend return to normalcy. I could focus on my kingdom once I get that taken care of. She waited long enough for the seed to grow, now it's time to see what kind of flower it is.
Funn
Mister Jake had left for the Candy Kingdom that morning. He didn't really say what for, but he just needed to talk to Princess Bubblegum. It's not my place to know, Funn told himself after he was alone. Jake-I mean, Mister Jake, would have told me if it was.
He was staring out the window letting his fingers warm on the sill. His belly rumbled for food, and even though Mister Jake has made it explicitly clear that he had free range of the refrigerator, Funn didn't want to eat. Not because he felt it wrong to abuse the dog's kindness (though that was part of the reason) but because it's just so hard to eat. For six months straight Funn had only known the grey wash in a bowl, and sometimes the occasional rat. He had grown so used to just tilting his head back and letting the slop slide down his throat, as nasty as it was. But silverware provides a whole other challenge, and its hard to eat any of Mister Jake's wonderful meals with just four fingers. It made him feel useless, especially when he had to have his hot dog cut one night.
But it tastes so good. Funn smiled at the memory. His smile grew when he realized what he was doing. Smiling. He could have giggled like a child, it felt so wrong. Sure, there was no one around to wipe that grin off his face. And yet...and yet...
"Finn? Do you want to play hide and seek?" The boy made sure his smile was gone before turning. He found BMO standing there on the floor, cute smile displayed on his screen.
Do...I? Funn could almost hear Mister Jake in the back of his mind, What do YOU want to do? The boy really didn't know. BMO was not master of the house but he's still a companion of Mister Jake...and the old boy. You aren't him anymore, Funn. He's just another familiar face, and so is Mister Jake and Princess Bubblegum and Flame Queen and Queen...no, Marceline. Just Marceline. Remember her name, Funn. And remember yours.
It seems that BMO noticed Finn's silence, for he offered a shrug of his tiny plastic shoulders and said, "If you do not want to play, then that is alright. Do you mind if I join you in looking outside?"
"Not at all." Funn liked BMO. He was the only person he had met so far that has not cringed or showed any reaction to his horrific appearance. Not that he cared before, mind you, but Funn found it a breath of fresh air that someone from his old life didn't seem to care how he looked.
Though BMO still preferred to call him by his old name. No one's perfect. I know that better than anybody. Let them heave, let them blench. My esteem perished in Master's dungeons. When I felt that bite of a knife, or the burn of pleasing others, a distasteful look has no more power than the world's smallest ant.
BMO clambered up Mister Jake's sleeping drawer, and with a little hop the gaming robot was on the windowsill. He sat, hands folded over his broad chassis. "The Grass Lands are beautiful, are they not?" he said.
Funn nodded, and not because he felt he had to. The hills loomed up and down, going on seemingly forever as an ocean of grass, so green and lush that Funn wanted to cry. "So beautiful," he said, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "Grob, it really is." A small breeze picked up and drifted into the house, carrying with it smells of a hundred different flowers. He smelled it slowly, savoring every scent, while BMO did the same despite his lack of a nose.
BMO, BMO. The little weird robot that wanted to be flesh, Funn recalled.
"The world is still beautiful," said the robot.
His suddenness gave Funn a little start. "What do you mean?" he asked.
BMO turned to face him, frown presented on his screen. "I do not know what you went through, Finn. I feel sad though when I see you, and when I look into your eyes, there is only fear. You do not need to be afraid, Finn. You are surrounded by friends now." Funn was about to open his mouth in protest, but BMO quickly said, "And do not say you are broken, because you are not. You may be hurt. You may never fight again. But you can still make us laugh, and you can be a good friend to me and Jake and the Princess Bubblegum and everybody. A knife or some big mean Master will never take those things away, even if you think they already did. Even if they boast that they did.
Funn had no idea how to respond, to any of that. He just stared at BMO, blue eyes shimmering like ice on a hot day, until finally he said, "But I don't want to displease anyone. I can't return to being that other boy, I don't deserve it. But Princess Bubblegum and Mister Jake want me to, I can tell."
"And is that so bad?" asked the robot. Funn couldn't decide whether or not that was a trick question before BMO continued. "We become different people, always. On the day we come out of a mommy's stomach to the day we sink into the ground and rejoin our mommy, we are never the same person." BMO pushed himself to his little feet so that he was at eye level with Funn. "You can call yourself something else, that is true, but in your heart of gold you will always be our mathematical friend." He thumped his plastic chassis, where his heart would be if he had one. "Do not fear your friends. We love you, Finn. And never doubt yourself. You are stronger than you think you are." BMO waddled forward and pat Funn's hand, right on the nub of his thumb.
Funn showed him his ugly smile, brown and broken and all, and the little robot did not mind one bit. In fact, his own grew a few pixels broader. "BMO, you are just full of surprises," he said. It was the only thing on his mind at the moment.
BMO laughed gaily. "No I am not, silly! I'm filled with tech, see?" He popped open his chassis and showed Funn his wiry innards, copper rings and the works. When he sealed himself once more, BMO gave him a light slap on the wrist. "Tag! You're it!" In the blink of an eye the little robot was suddenly dashing across the bedroom on little legs, giggle still heard as he scampered down the stairs.
I suppose it wouldn't hurt to just play one game. Funn stood, the old wood of the floor tickling the soles of his feet. However when he took a step, he was perhaps too eager as he lost his balance. He shot out his hand, saving himself by pushing against Mister Jake's bureau. The force of it made the whole thing rock, and for a moment the boy feared that it would fall on top of him and crush him.
Instead, the only thing to fall was a little grey box, adorned along the bottom with a series of buttons. When it hit the ground, a violet light shone from the port hole on the top and a holographic of a dog that looked much like Mister Jake but with a hat appeared, standing before a fireplace. It spoke as Funn bent over to pick it up.
"Finn! If you're seeing this prerecorded holo-message, it's because you finished the dungeon that I made for you. I'm proud of you. You're going to do great things in this world. I love you, son."
Funn took back his stool and set the thing on his lap. For the longest time he just stared at it, thinking all the while, That was...Joshua. The old boy...Finn's...father. His real father. For reasons he couldn't quite explain a lump formed in Funn's throat. And he hit rewind and listened to the message again.
I shouldn't be touching this, he told himself when it was over. Mister Jake's like to take my entire hand off if he just walked right in here and saw me touching his stuff. And yet there was no fear eating at his guts, oddly enough. Then he grew bold, and something was making him move his hand up to the console and hit Rewind.
"Finn! If you're seeing-" Fast forward "-the dungeon that I made for you. I'm proud of you-" Rewind "Finn!-" Fast forward "-the dungeon that I made for you. I'm proud of you-" Fast forward "-I love you, son." Rewind. "I love you-" Rewind "-Finn!" Fast forward "You're going to do great things in this world-" Rewind "-Finn!" Fast forward "I love you-" Rewind "-you're going to do great things in this world."
Rewind.
"You're going to do great things in this world."
Rewind.
"You're going to do great things in this world. I love you, son."
Rewind.
"Finn!"
Stop.
'Dad's Dungeon' is probably my favorite episode in the series just for that one scene. Gawd, it's just so sweet and heartwarming.
Anyways, Fire COUNT. See what I did there?
I'd like to point out in the section with Flame Princess that everything discussed in there will become important later on. And did you notice how Flame Princess wasn't heeding any of her council's advice, and instead was insisting that they do things her way? That was intentional. Flame Princess has always been a headstrong, independent girl, and I can actually see something like that happening. And mind you that she doesn't exactly realize that she's doing this - it's not on purpose.
Anyways, I don't know why but I really loved how the scene with BMO and Finn played out. It just felt so...uplifting and sweet. Also I ate dinner using only the four fingers of my left hand like Finn. It really is kinda awkward.
Also, I am aware that BMO does have a literal heart of gold. Remember: this is from Finn's POV we're reading, and he has forgotten some things about his friends, like how BMO wants to be a real person.
