I spent the day looking at wedding dresses online and I'm probably making my choice based on whether it can be adapted for cosplay at some point. My fiancée is completely ok with that, she's an even bigger nerd than I am. So this chapter is for you, Wifecake.
Is there something up with my account or did entirely 0 people read the last chapter? I dunno if this website is just screwing with me or if my traffic stats are wrong, I'm usually getting like 100 hits a day when I post a new chapter. And my traffic graph hasn't moved in forever. Just asking, if you're out there PM me or leave a review please and let me know, I'm a bit confused.
Content Warning: Some unpleasant descriptions of dead things, fairly graphic injuries.
"Ja'an," he spoke her name quietly, the jagged hole of his mouth caused him to slur alarmingly. "Your reputation is inescapable and I have need of your services. Ralquinn will provide you with the details. I want the future heroes Jake the Dog and Finn the Human delivering to me alive and as unharmed as you can manage. I have plans that require them to be as whole as possible."
Ja'an knelt before the Dark Majesty's earthen throne and she bowed to her new employer, trying hard to keep the obvious dark anticipation from spreading across her face. Her pointed ears flicked forward attentively. The Dark Majesty was a worthy master even when he was only partially made flesh and their goals aligned beautifully in this matter, all but for the small aspect of leaving Lord Evil's delicious daughter alive. Sweeping her muscular body upright again, she stood to attention to receive her new orders.
"Be warned, Ja'an." he continued, empty eye holes turned to her eager face. "Failure to deliver will cost your life. I want them alive and whole. You may hurt but do not kill the vampire Abadeer. The daughter is a weak halfbreed but her father's wrath is something I wish to avoid until I am strong enough to be certain of victory. That cannot happen if you fail to deliver the children to me whole."
Ja'an stiffened and looked into the terrible face with badly concealed shock. She'd been entertaining a vivid fantasy of slowly ripping Abadeer Junior's spine out through her back like a cooked fish that was being deboned, maybe taking some of that lovely soft hair to braid as a trophy necklace once she was done, cooing to her that she was such a pretty corpse. Briefly Ja'an wondered if the Dark Majesty could read minds. Probably, she decided. Who knew what powers he still possessed in his new derelict form?
"Your own colourful history with the vampire is well known to me. Leave her be while you fulfil my wishes. Once I have the heroes whole and undamaged and am returned to my full strength you may violate her as much as your heart desires. But until I am restored to my former self you will not touch a silken hair on her head. The necessity of travelling to find the future heroes has weakened me considerably. I am no match for Lord Evil while I am in this form and you will not bring his anger upon us until we can be certain he is no longer a threat. I do not know if I possess a soul for him to harvest, I do not wish to know."
He gestured downwards with what she supposed would pass for a hand in his grotesque mimicry of a body. There were not enough slabs of flesh clinging to the shards of greying bone to even be a full corpse, where whole chunks of his body parts were missing a dark magical fog filled but did not entirely obscure the writhing mass of maggots and putrefying flesh underneath. Dark Majesty was rotting away as she watched; she'd need to work quickly before he disintegrated entirely. His remaining body was twisted beyond her recognition; his stretched skin was the colour of the underside of a day old corpse. Two dark empty holes served in place of eyes and a jagged gash where a mouth should have been opened to show blackened stumps of teeth and only half a tongue, the rest a wet writhing mass of pale worms.
Ja'an had seen worse, but not recently. It made her glow warm and bubbly inside; her kind had always had a deep appreciation of the macabre. Dark Majesty was more grotesquely beautiful to her now than he had ever been in his previous form. It would be almost a shame to present the children to him and allow him to ascend back to his former glory but what he would lack in aesthetics he would make up for in ruthless evil. She knew her master was not firing on full cylinders right now and that disturbed her, it was something that she needed to fix as quickly as possible. The very fact that he had contacted her instead of simply dealing with the future heroes himself bothered her. He looked different too, somehow flabbier and younger where he still had flesh, like he'd been rolled from uncooked pastry before the ravages of travelling back through time had pulled away great chunks of his body. She could only imagine what horrors had been visited upon his future self to change him so profoundly.
"My other operatives have already failed me in this, Ja'an. You will not fail. Ask Ralquinn how his dear friend The General is feeling now that he has been unburdened of some of his more troublesome organs, I'm sure you'll agree that you'd rather keep your most useful body as intact as possible. I will not tolerate failure. If you do disappoint me I am sure Ralquinn will be only too happy to sample the various delights your torture and eventual death can offer him."
Ja'an shivered at the thought of it, not entirely in horror. She's been a plaything of Ralquinn in the past; his sadistic tendencies and fascinating genetics more than enough to get her off.
She nodded sharply to show she understood her master's directions and he returned the nod then dismissed her with a wave. Ja'an was the very best assassin money could buy, she was no two-penny mercenary borrowing her father's sword and going off starry eyed to find adventure and fortune. She had killed so many people in so many ways that their faces blurred together in her memory and she could no longer remember a time before she'd known the thrill of snuffing out a life in various depraved and corrupt ways.
But she would not cross his Dark Majesty; even in his current weakened state he was a dire prospect to battle and she was not sure he could even be killed in any conventional way. His body could be further degraded but he would always remain in some form, a spirit or wraith. She hurried from his cavern towards the room where Ralquinn would meet her to fill her in on the fine details of her mission.
Ja'an was paid to kill, not kidnap children, and she briefly wondered at his Majesty's use of the term 'future heroes'. She didn't know all the details and it distantly worried her, details were the only safety blanket she had between living through another mission and ending in a bloody gurgle on the end of her target's edged weapon of choice. Shaking herself to rid her brain of such foolish musings she snorted in derision at her own eagerness to know all of her master's secrets. This was no ordinary hit and Dark Majesty was no ordinary employer. She had always said curiosity would be the death of her if she let it. She had a job to do and would be well paid for it. So far as she was concerned that was the beginning and end of the story; if Dark Majesty chose to employ a master assassin to kidnap two common children then it was his gold to waste.
She crept warily down the long damp corridor until she came out into a smaller cavern. When she entered the room was empty except for a table, a set of chairs and a huge iron ring driven deep into a peg in the wall. That gave her a moment to consider all the wonderful things such a sturdy restraint could be used for, especially with Ralquinn in the mix. He did so love tying his victims up. A quick sniff confirmed that the ring smelled of blood and magic; he must have tortured The General here. She flicked a glance over the rough furniture and decided she wouldn't give him the benefit of choosing whether to stand over her or not. Instead she leaned against a wide flat root protruding from the bare earthen wall to wait for her favourite competitor to grace her with his presence.
Ja'an did not enjoy being underground, this far into the earth it was uncomfortably warm and she felt claustrophobic. Her tail twitched in annoyance. She flicked one elongated paw across an ear, removing a clod of dirt that had fallen from the ceiling of the cavern. Ja'an wasn't particular about her looks but it absolutely wouldn't do to be too unkempt in front of the fabulously immaculate Ralquinn. And she hated having dirty fur. No matter how ragged her armour looked and how many battle scars criss-crossed her snout she refused point blank to tolerate a speck of dirt on her thick red pelt.
As though he'd heard her think his name Ralquinn materialized silently in front of her, reclining casually on his bare wooden chair and flicking indolent eyes over her. He sighed as he took in her battered armour and unusually grubby paws. She bared her teeth in reply and hunched her shoulders, ready to pounce if he chose to take it further. Ja'an would kill him in a heartbeat if he mentioned her paws. It was just so damn hard to stay clean when she was literally surrounded by damp earth. Opalescent green eyes locked onto weirdly slatted golden ones challengingly and Ja'an's hair began to stand on end. Eventually Ralquinn broke eye contact and kicked out the chair opposite with a snort, relaxing back into his casual pose and snapping his long fingers to cause a decanter of dark liquor and two glasses to appear between them on the table.
"That's an invitation to sit, Ja'an." he drawled in a carefully practised bored tone. "I'd have said it in my prettiest mouth words just for you but the pit you were raised in didn't have those kind of fancy manners and I'm afraid it would only confused and terrify you."
Ja'an reached into the pouch hanging from her belt and with a blur of speed flicked a morning star directly into his face. No matter who he may resemble she refused to take that kind of cheek; Ralquinn was good but he was not worth a ritual offering. The tall grey demon let the morning star get within an inch of his shimmering eye before it disappeared with a tiny pop.
"I see you've never gotten tired of that particular parlour trick. It gets old, the rest of us have to depend on actual skills to get by. How have you been, Ral?" she asked, conceding silently that he had won this round. She sat carefully and picked up the decanter, eyeing the liquid inside. It was the colour of old bloody pus and smelled like a festering wound, she inhaled deeply and relished every pestilent note. Oh he knew how to woo a demon, did Ralquinn.
"Oh, you know. A little of this and then sometimes a little of that. Working for Dark Majesty isn't everything I'd hoped, but it has some fascinating opportunities for torture. Just before I came to find you I got to eat the liver out of the chest of a general who had displeased my Lord. He's still alive and his body is slowly poisoning him now that his liver is gone, I left him to stumble around the grassland and amuse himself while he slowly died. Just fascinating. Urgh, Ja'an that's barbaric!" he added as Ja'an picked up the decanter and swigged straight from the top of it, ignoring the fine crystal glass he'd materialized for her. It seemed an overdeveloped sense of manners ran in the family, too.
The liquor burned as she swallowed, bitter and somehow a salty metallic. Ja'an was certain it had at least some dead flesh in it, she swabbed her rough tongue across her split lips appreciatively and smiled at the feel of it aching in the small open cuts in her mouth. It was wicked strong; too much of this and she'd be staggering around unable to see straight. Best to pace herself, then.
"Anyway," Ralquinn added, taking the decanter and wiping the top with the delicate silken handkerchief he usually stowed in his top pocket then pouring a glass for himself, "I'm sure you're just dying to hear all the gossip from the Nightosphere, hm?"
"Not particularly, no."
She frowned, he knew she never wanted to hear of that place again. Ralquinn may enjoy riling her but he knew better than to prod at that particular wound. He'd never asked what she'd been exiled for and other than knowing it somehow involved her fascination and rivalry with Lady Abadeer and that Lord Evil had intervened he'd never asked. He sipped his drink and raked his eyes over the other demon, taking in more than just her clothing this time.
"So." he murmured after a few minutes. "You're looking just as toned as ever. Would you like to see what new tricks I've picked up recently?"
He popped open the top three buttons of his impeccable white shirt and winked at her, showing off the ragged scars running down his thin grey chest. "Exquisite, aren't they? I'd very much like to give you some to match. Beautiful Ja'an, your eyes are like glowing coals. I want to rip the skin from your back while yellow butterflies flutter all around us."
"You're such a charmer." Ja'an replied with a crooked smile. And he was; in demon circles Ral had a reputation as a sadistic Casanova. She considered for a moment, she had no pressing business just yet and Ralquinn was legendarily talented. She still had scars from when they'd tangled together in the past. Besides, she liked the way he smelled, liked the way the light threw shadows of muted colour through his sable hair. She shrugged out of her armour to reveal the oxblood coloured fur underneath and he leaned across the table to dig his nails into the loose flesh of her back, pushing harder and breaking through the skin when she purred with pain.
"Exquisite." he breathed as his long teeth scraped across the bone of her shoulder.
In his many years of adventuring Olgar Snow Blood had had many opportunities to bear the blood-stained body of a beautiful naked woman in his arms. Never had he thought in his wildest dreams that he would one day be tearfully bringing the Queen of Vampires back from battle to give her a true hero's burial and comfort her grieving widow.
He couldn't look at her still pale face as he wrapped his cloak across her exposed flesh to preserve her dignity. His tears flowed freely down his cheeks and through his thick beard. Olgar was consumed by guilt; he'd thought so badly of her, harboured outright hostility to her simply because she was a vampire. But then when the test had come she'd stood up and fought for the people she loved more bravely than he could have ever imagined. He'd been so very wrong about her and now he'd never have the chance to apologise.
She'd fought like nothing Olgar had ever seen, the furious demonic and vampiric energy had actually been used for good, slaying enemies with barely more than a thought. What a hero she could have been! And little Finn, to lose his parents and then his adoptive mother so close together, his heart broke for that angelic little boy who was more wise and accepting than a century old hero. Finn had known that Marceline was good, Olgar should have trusted him. Everyone knew that innocent babes could feel evil intent; if Finn had loved Marceline then Olgar should have accepted her too. Perhaps if she'd felt more trust him him she would still be alive.
And oh, the princess! He was certain she'd never recover from this blow. When she had come running into their room in the night calling for aid in her chambers and wearing nothing but a sheet and some strange small wounds on her shoulder Eagle hadn't seemed the least surprised, just unslung her longsword and followed. But Olgar had been perplexed; had she been attacked whilst getting undressed? Or somehow lost her clothes when the invaders had broken through? When he'd rushed into the royal bedroom to find swarms of mercenaries being ripped apart by a dark and equally naked winged fury he was beyond confused, until the creature had turned and he'd squinted at her face. It took him a moment to recognise her but all at once he remembered she could change her form when angered.
He'd almost fallen over with shock. What could the vampire woman being doing naked in the princess's bed chamber and angry enough to transform like that? And the princess herself was equally naked but for a sheet... Then the vampire took a crossbow bolt to the chest and for a second he'd thought she was done, shot through her heart. The princess had screamed in rage and fear, the kind of scream borne from a deep emotional connection. Olgar had screamed that exact same way years ago when a pike had gone through Eagle's stomach, he still saw the fountain of blood burst through the coppery flesh in his nightmares sometimes and cried out for her in his sleep.
The truth hit him like an anvil, why two women of similar circumstances would be naked together in a private chamber with the bed sheets and their hair in disarray and suddenly he couldn't look at either of them, instead just focussing on unsheathing his sword and hacking away at the mercenaries in embarrassed confusion. Before the attack they must have been– or at the very least he wondered if it was the first time they'd– it had brought a deep blush to his cheeks to even think those thoughts. Princess Bubblegum was so sweet! And with that awful vampire! Olgar was shocked to his soul that she would ever consent to bed someone of such a questionable alignment. Then the enemies pushed forward and he was lost to the battle, no time to think about who the princess was or was not sleeping with.
Emerald was down with a hand axe that she hadn't seen in time buried deep in her side. With a single thrust he'd pushed his broadsword through her attacker's neck right up to the hilt, that's when he heard the signal for them to retreat. But the vampire was crazy, too far gone in righteous anger for her son and lover, she'd followed them despite his cries for her to stay and check the princess was safe. He couldn't leave Emerald, she'd saved all of their lives more than once and her breathing was coming in bubbling gasps, specks of shining green blood flecking her lips.
As they rushed her to the palace doctor he'd thought no more of the vampire, only of his dying friend and injured wife. Eagle had taken an arrow through the calf. It wasn't life threatening but he worried over her like always because that was just what a husband did. Her enchanted mask could keep her body free of poison but infection could set in just the same, he'd lost a younger brother that way long before they'd met and deep wounds still made him skittish. He'd noticed a jagged gash on his forearm but disregarded it, it would soon be just another scar to add to his collection. Olgar was rather proud of his scar tissue, gathered over a century of adventuring.
Time had blurred as the royal doctor rushed to save Emerald. She was stable but unconscious; a machine half mechanical and half magical of the princess's own design was helping her breathe until the hole in her lung could heal. The princess herself had come in after some time cradling Finn and Jake, she'd found a more suitable robe from somewhere and was attempting to soothe the babes as they howled in terror and shock.
"Peppermint, have you seen Marceline? She's somehow the only one who can get these guys to quiet and go to sleep, even if she's not in the mood to sing to them I think it would good for her to just be close by them."
Her strange little butler had scurried off and Olgar suddenly remembered that the vampire had chased their remaining enemies down the passageway. She'd be back by now, no doubt. But the butler returned after some minutes with the terrible news that the vampire couldn't be found within the palace and the horror on the princess's face had made Olgar re-evaluate the relationship between them. He'd thought perhaps it was something casual, a way to relieve tension when they were besieged in the palace with an unknown enemy somewhere in the kingdom stalking innocent children. But nobody looked that distraught over a fling and the princess was not the sort of woman to choose her bedroom partners without thought. It had been no passing flare of passions or midnight madness that had led to them coupling together, they were quite seriously involved.
And what he'd taken for jealous rivalry between them when he had arrived had been unresolved romantic tension. Olgar felt so blind he could have smacked himself in the face; and of course Eagle had known the minute she laid eyes on them! Women had mysterious senses regarding romantic connections, it explained why she'd not been even a little shocked to find the vampire completely naked and angrily defending the princess in her bedroom. In their bedroom, Olgar corrected himself. Surely they had a domestic arrangement; suddenly small things that didn't quite seem right about the royal bedchambers made more sense. Where had Marceline's axe come from? It must have already been there. And all her clothes? He'd never seen her use a guest suite yet she changed her outfit at least once a day, logically she must be changing in the room she thought of as her own and the only bedroom he'd seen her enter or exit was the princess's.
For everyone's sakes he was glad they'd resolved whatever problem they'd been having when he arrived, now satisfied the vampire was no threat he could be glad that two such strong and gallant women had found each other and come together into a staggeringly powerful pairing. But now the princess was clinging the babes to her chest and shaking with fear, she would not be calmed or persuaded to sit while her lover was still missing. With a nod from Eagle, Olgar had left her to the care of his wife and Joshua and slipped away to see what had stopped Marceline from coming back. No doubt she was wearing the hearts of her enemies as a necklace but they would need her to return from her bloodlust madness soon.
While others searched the roofs and gardens he'd climbed into the hole and followed the tunnel down through a hollow wall of the palace and into the ground. He'd jogged a while but been forced to slow when the light grew so faint that only the nocturnal could be expected to find their way and he began tripping over the bodies of the dead mercenaries that bore the wounds of the vampire's terrible axe.
The same acrid scent of magical fire that had hung around Joshua's wrecked home hit his nose and after some minutes of careful walking he found the light growing again, a sickly green of monstrous demon flame. The same fire had flayed the flesh from Goltan Tarrick's bones years before, consuming him when Billy had failed his duty as lookout.
Olgar ground his teeth together in anger. The General had been there. The Guard had stood magically rooted to the spot and had been forced to watch helplessly as The General used his magical fire to slowly torture Goltan to death; only Emerald's colour change abilities had managed to distract The General long enough for the rest of them to escape. Olgar shivered as he remembered the agonised screams of his dying captain; The General had so much to answer for. He had invented monstrous demon flame and he used it to send a message to the enemies of his employers. So far the message had always been the same: you are all going to die. Nobody knew who The General really was but Olgar had sworn vengeance on him three times over all the same, he'd not been heard from in years and now he was back. Finally though, a chance to avenge his dead captain.
And then he'd found her, almost tripped over her limp body where it lay crumpled against the rough wall of the tunnel. It never stopped hurting to see the corpse of a young woman, even after almost a hundred years.
She must have died in the explosion of fire, there were savage looking burns peppering her face and shoulders. The ragged fist sized dent in her skull above her left ear where she'd collided with the wall reminded him too much of the first body he'd ever seen. For a moment he wasn't an old hero crouching low over the body of the Vampire Queen, he was a lad just barely into his teens, discovering the broken and violated body of Piglet Princess at the bottom of a ditch by his village. Goltan had found him weeping over her and asked him quietly if he wanted to join the Guard and help find the ones who'd killed her. He'd never looked back.
Despite their best efforts the General was already long gone; while they were trying to track him he was flaying the skin from every living member of the Piglet tribe that he could find. The few who survived had scattered across Ooo, living in disguise, still in fear for their lives.
Olgar Snow Blood had earned his name when he'd landed a deep blow on The General in the Ice Kingdom four years later, but he'd escaped with his life and Olgar had never managed to avenge the Piglets. Just thinking of it brought bile to the back of his throat and he swallowed down vomit. He would not disrespect them by losing his dinner over their memories. They'd never discovered who had employed The General to destroy the Piglets, that had been over ninety years ago. Whoever it was could be long gone already.
But now Marceline the Vampire Queen was dead. He knew Princess Bubblegum would never forgive him if he left the body of her lover to rot in a burnt out cave so he unpinned his cloak and wrapped her tenderly in it, wiping the rapidly drying blood gently from her face with his sleeve and whispering the Viking prayer for the dead, head bowed and tears running unchecked down his broad face. It was the highest honour he could give her, after seeing how bravely she had defend her family he almost felt it wasn't enough.
His voice cracked over the old words and his tears splashed against her cold cheek as he crouched with her lifeless corpse gathered in his arms. The Allfather could hear him even in the depth of the earth but to be extra sure he grasped the silver raven pendant he wore on a cord around his neck and spoke directly to it.
"Odin Allfather, hear my prayer. At this time a great warrior lies slain in righteous battle. I have shed the blood of foes with this woman and felt the strength of her arm and axe. She has given her life to protect her woman and son. Odin, take this daughter of blood into the sacred halls of Valhalla that she may feast for time eternal with the heroes of old. Odin, let your Valkyries descend and claim her undying soul, let her rest in the halls of my fathers. I shed my blood to you in sacrifice, Odin Allfather. I am Olgar Snow Blood, son of Harald the Hero. Accept my blood and take this soul. In life her name was Marceline Abadeer, Queen of Vampires, but great Odin take her into death as a true Viking, worthy of the title Marceline Axe Fury, worthy of a seat in your eternal hall. So I pray, Allfather."
He pulled a small carved hunting knife from where it was strapped to the side of his boot and ran the blade across his palm, squeezing a few drop of his own blood onto the dead woman's face and using his fingertip to carefully draw the three interlocking triangles of the valknut onto her cold cheek. The valknut was an ancient and sacred symbol, the mark of a slain warrior, the gateway to Valhalla, the symbol of an offering to the Allfather. With a sob he slung her great axe across his back and gently shifted her limp body in his arms to begin the long journey back to the palace. The only thing he could do for her now was to bring her home and prepare her funeral pyre.
