Author's note: What? CwT is writing a multi-chapter fic on purpose? Weird. This story is rated "Mature" for a reason, name graphic violence and one smut scene.
She was waiting when the vampire returned to her cave home. In the dark, in the silence, in the tension of the moment, she was waiting. She sat on the right side of the horribly uncomfortable couch, careful to avoid placing too much weight in the center; her vampire's trophies were stored there, an open secret that they both knew that she knew but never spoke of. She sat in a pair of light purple jeans, right leg crossed over the left, pink sneakers still. Her hands were settled neatly in her lap, dark purple sweater adequately concealing her nervous breathing. Her crown was conspicuously absent. Given the nature of the situation she thought its presence grossly inappropriate. This conversation would not be pleasant, she already knew that. It wasn't the first of its kind. It was never pleasant.
Bonnibel Bubblegum could already see the incoming talk play out in her mind. The vampire would come through the door and pretend that she didn't know the princess was in attendance, that she couldn't hear her heart pounding. The younger woman would cut straight to the chase, not bothering with pleasantries, and certainly not willing to let her lover hide from her own behavior. They would challenge one another's reasoning and motivations. There may even be accusations and, if it got really bad, there may even be a nasty row. Neither would back down, they hadn't for five centuries. No. It was formulaic by now. The half-demon would enter her house and evade the candy woman's gaze, who, in turn, would fixate until she watched her squirm, knowing that she couldn't let the other woman avoid this topic forever. Because if Marceline Abadeer was good at one thing, it was running from her own globin' problems, and it was up to her lover to hold her accountable.
Princess Bubblegum frowned, her frustration growing. In the back of her mind she wondered if the older woman was delaying her return purposefully, trying to avoid taking responsibility. Fortunately for the candy princess, her unwavering sense of logic trumped that mental accusation. This conversation was no easier for her other half; it was, if anything, so much the more painful as it was not only a tragedy of facts it was also a crisis of identity. The part of herself she allowed to feel empathy ached to take that pain away from the vampire, to metaphorically kiss and make it better. But this situation wasn't metaphorical. It was very real and had some very real consequences. If our roles were reversed, would she wait for me? Bubblegum sighed. This wasn't the first time that idle curiosity crossed her mind and made for an interesting thought experiment.
The doorknob turned slowly, as if the woman on the other door were trying to make as little sound as possible. The door opened a crack before falling still. Bonnibel knew that on the other side of the door her girlfriend was taking one last opportunity to steel herself against the coming storm. The candy woman's sympathy was fleeting. This will be as bad as she wants it to be. It's her choice. For a brief moment she allowed herself a sense of smug satisfaction; this would become a battle of wills, and she knew something Marceline didn't. When the door opened the princess shoved that thought to the back of her mind with the rest of her mental weaponry.
True to form, Marceline didn't meet Bonnibel's eye when she finally slinked through the door, feeling every bit the invader in her own home that she knew the princess wanted her to feel. It was a strategy she had seen her employ before on other dignitaries, unsettling them while on neutral or even home territory. It was a method of exercising intimidation, to silently make her presence into a tactical force. Knowing about the approach did nothing to grant her immunity from it though, and the undead monarch found herself just as affected by it as any other victim. It didn't matter that she knew her princess was wrong, all she could do was mentally squirm under her piercing gaze and hope that it wasn't obvious. She permitted herself a woe-is-me sigh, but only internally. But it is obvious. She knows me too well. She knows how to break me.
As required of her in her girlfriend's presence Marceline touched down to the floor, closing the door quietly. She unslung her bass from her back, resting it blade-down against the side of the door. The blade was absolutely filthy, caked in a rust-colored liquid barely dried and flaking, and the younger woman wasn't sure how to feel about that. Given the circumstances, though, she wasn't surprised by its condition. Marceline looked like she hadn't changed her outfit in the entire time she was gone. Her black combat boots were covered in an unidentified substance, and her non-skinny black jeans were torn in maybe a dozen places. Bonnibel was surprised they were still in one piece. Her shirt, despite being solid red, did nothing to hide the blood stains. At least she tied her hair back, she thought with only mild approval. She had also yet to move from her position, paralyzed by indecision, hand frozen just above the bass. It was pitch dark out, and while Marceline had no idea exactly what time it was it didn't bode well for her that Bonnibel was willing to not only leave her castle at night but determined enough to wait for her to come home. The older monarch didn't want to speak first. That was part of the tactic as well; the one who spoke first lost. They were relegated to the submissive role, and it was a role she fell into easily around her lover. In any other circumstance she would even enjoy it.
Marceline took a deep breath she didn't need, exhaled, and started the dance. It wasn't like her to lead, but the only weapon she had ever been able to wield successfully against the princess was the element of surprise.
"No."
An uncharacteristically firm tone.
"Marceline-"
"Absolutely not."
An exacerbated sigh. "Just hear me out-"
"Bonnibel. No."
Full first-naming her girlfriend. A true sign of irritation if there ever was one, but Bonnibel Bubblegum was nothing if not stubborn, whether the situation warranted it or not. She had no intention of backing down. Unfortunately, the vampire queen shared her sentiment, and the two at odds was a horrible calamity to witness. She sat impassively, eyes locked firmly on the queen. "You're only doing this to yourself, Marceline." The tone was matter-of-fact, and Marceline bristled. "I'm not doing anything to myself, Bonnibel." But that was a lie, and a cheap one at that, not worthy of Bonnibel addressing. "You're needlessly prolonging an unpleasant situation that has an unavoidable outcome because you can't-" Get over yourself. "...come to terms with reality."
Finally finding her courage Marceline turned, glaring in full force, standing squarely in front of her companion. "You don't know what it's like, Bonnie." The moment that traitorous phrase was out of her mouth the vampire winced, regretting it. It wasn't a defense, it was a buying question, an opening for her lover to start systematically dismantling her argument.
The princess didn't bother hiding the smugness in her smirk. Give her enough time and Marcy will always trap herself. It might be one of the things the younger woman liked most about her. It made the power dynamic of their relationship so easy. "Enlighten me, Marcy." Her tone shifted then, becoming softer and more gentle. This was a strategy reserved solely for her vampire, the portrayal of gentleness and acceptance being vital to wearing down her resistance. Bonnibel never used their relationship as a weapon. A bargaining chip, however, was a different story.
To her credit, Marceline's glare didn't waver, nor did her resolve. Try all you want, Bonnie. You'll never win this fight. I have a winning streak to maintain. "For such a brainlord you sure have some really stupid ideas sometimes." Princess Bubblegum scowled in response. Marceline wasn't just being unreasonable, she was being childish and it was beginning to grate on her nerves.
"Just hear me out. Okay? If after I've finished you still disagree-"
"We'll argue some more?"
Bubblegum bit her tongue. She hated to be interrupted, and her lover knew it, but she supposed she wasn't wrong. The candy leader had no real intention of backing down, she just had to find a way to make Marceline see reason. "Marceline, look.. I know how you feel about this. You've been very vocal about it for hundreds of years, and if I didn't think it absolutely necessary I would never dream of venturing the idea. Your concerns are far from groundless," she noted Marceline's eyes quickly shoot to her family's heirloom before returning to her own, "but right now this is the lesser of all evils. For flub's sake, Marcy, it's the only thing stopping us from-"
"Making your royal duties easier?"
She saw that coming a mile away but did nothing to stop its impact. After the initial sting she realized that Marceline had come to match her own tone, even with the biting comment, and began to feel hopeful that she would win this argument for the very first time. It was unusual for Marceline to fall in step so quickly, and the princess hoped that it was a sign that the vampire was finally, finally, too tired to keep fighting. She just required a little push. "Come with me Marcy. Let's go home. I want to show you something." After a moment of hesitation Marceline turned, placing her hand on the knob. Her thoughts turned briefly to her precious bass, with its broken strings and clogged frets, desperate for the tender love and care only she could provide.
"Take it if it makes you feel more secure."
Marceline was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how deep in her mind the candy princess was. That didn't stop her from grabbing the weapon while opening the door, or leaving the relative safety of her house, nor did it stop her from scooping her lover up after securing the entrance, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back. The pink woman relaxed, resting her head against the vampire's chest as they began to make the flight back to the castle. The journey was silent, but the displeasure soon gave way to something much more comfortable. It was just two halves of one being soaring through the night sky, the only two beings in the world that could appreciate such an intimate moment, the only ones even eligible. As they approached the castle Marceline considered her options.
You have no idea what you're asking of me, Bonnie. You didn't see it. You've never seen it.
They landed on the balcony of Bonnibel's bedroom. Immediately upon dismounting the princess took the queen's hand, pushing open the glass door as she lead her inside. This physical contact, too, was part of the tactic, a way of enticing the vampire to not run. Marceline was aware of this as well, but had no motivation to break the embrace. A change in location wouldn't change the outcome of a fight they've had so many times before. To her surprise, however, they bypassed the bed chambers entirely, and she frowned, feeling suspicion gnaw at her heartguts. "Bon, where are we going?"
The princess's pace was quick and determined. "We're meeting Finn and Jake in the laboratory later."
A growl emerged from the back of the vampire's throat. "You didn't think to tell me that detail?"
"Why? Would it have stopped you?" The smug tone was back, but it lacked any real bite, and Marceline wasn't sure how to interpret that. The entire situation was turning highly unusual; they never left her house for this argument, they never went back to the castle, and they certainly never involved other people. The vampire monarch tensed.
Princess Bubblegum continued to lead Marceline deeper into the castle, finally coming before the massive laboratory door after several agonizing minutes spent in absolute silence. There she stopped, pausing momentarily before turning to face her girlfriend while squeezing her hand. "You know I care about you. This is how things have to progress. There are procedures." A thin thumb brushed reassuringly over a pale wrist as garnet eyes narrowed.
"Procedures you wrote."
Her response was a nod, Bubblegum refusing to take the painfully obvious bait. "Exactly. My kingdom requires-"
A grey fist suddenly slammed into the wall, cracking it. "I'm already a queen, Bonnie, what more do you need?!" To her shock the shorter woman merely smiled sadly, turning to unlock the laboratory door before tugging the angry woman inside.
The door's slam reverberated within Marceline's very core. Bubblegum offered her hand one last reassuring squeeze before dropping it, turning to enter the lab proper. "So, where are the two-"
Bubblegum saw her opening and struck. "What do you do when you go back to the Nightosphere, Marceline?"
That gave the other woman pause; she sensed the trap but had no idea how to disable it, and so she merely blanked. The candy woman turned to face her as she reached the one empty steel bed in the entire laboratory. The room was filled almost to capacity this evening. Every other bed had raw materials from the nearby dextrose mine piled high, and the computer desk was littered with documents haphazardly stacked. The sink seemed to be housing a head-sized glowing green lump, but was too far away and at too odd an angle to decipher any further details. On the floor, the beds were flanked on all sides by towers of boxes of all sides, all taped shut, all too tall for even Marceline to peak inside. Odd, she thought. You're normally so organized. What have you been doing, Bonnie? With a start she realized that the one bed that remained free of clutter was also the one bed that featured four-limb restraints that the candy woman swore up and down were definitely not lined with silver. The vampire wasn't sure how to feel about that.
Still, the young princess's question hung in the air and Marceline eyed it warily, but didn't dignify it with acknowledgement. The younger monarch tilted her head. "I just know you profess to hate it there, yet you return every so often. In fact, your visits have been increasing in frequency over the past two centuries. Why?" Marceline's expression remained blank and impassive. Silence filled the lab, separating the two like an ocean and Bubblegum braced herself for its impact. When the vampire refused to do the candy woman the decency of responding she pressed harder. The pink princess hated to be ignored, and while years of experience had taught her how to keep the irritation from her voice, Marceline's ears still registered it. They always did. "Marceline. You've been gone for over two weeks. You came back to Ooo, to your cave, not the castle I might add, covered in blood. Why?" The question had become a statement, a slip in vocal tone that signaled Bonnibel was reaching the end of her patience. When she was once more denied an answer she took a deep breath, straightened, and pressed her lips into a fine line. Fine. The thought lacked affect. She gave her lover one long stare, one last chance to mend how difficult she was being, and when she was denied one final time she turned her back.
"Alright, Marcy. You're not giving me much to go with here, and I can't have you shut down on me." I need you too much. She didn't say that part, though it hung heavy in the air. All-too-late Marceline realized that her mate was entering a mindset best described as 'clinically detached', a state of being where the undead monarch was merely the blocker of progress, the holder of answers, the interrupter of progress. It was never good to be on the other side of this mentality. Marceline knew from experience what would happen now, but she had realized it too late to stop it. She was, at least for the time being, demoted from courtier to, at best, science project. Of all the positions the two engaged in this was perhaps her least favorite. Of all her paramour's moods, disconnected hurt the most.
There was only one way out.
"...I'm sorry."
It was so faint Bonnibel was momentarily convinced that she had misheard it. When her mate looked away from her, dropping her eyes to the floor, she knew she hadn't imagined it. Part of her took immense satisfaction with this unexpected apology, proud that she had somehow been able to get the flighty woman to reflect on her own poor behavior and come to the realization on her own that her behavior wasn't something sustainable. Another, larger part of her, however, disliked seeing her other half with that self-deprecating glint in her eyes.
"Why are you sorry, Marcy?"
With a groan of frustration the vampire collapsed onto a nearby stool. Resting her elbows behind her on the metal table she lifted her head to stare at the ceiling, to have something to focus on that wasn't pink and perfect. For almost a solid minute she said nothing at all, but soon the awkwardness of the situation won over her emotional discomfort. "For this entire situation," she started. "The one that I'm putting you in." She paused, waiting to see if the candy golem would interject, only continuing once confident that she had her leave to voice her opinions. "I'm not an idiot, Bon. You need a ruler to level up your throne. Someone with an actual kingdom. I could have one, I just…" She trailed off, not confident in her ability to finish that thought.
"Then why go back?"
The vampire shifted uncomfortably, gaze unconsciously shifting to the small window on her right, her one chance of escape. Never before had she been so tempted to run, the lump with the consequences. To make it outside, away from clinical gazes, from the suffocating atmosphere. From Bonnibel. Some deep part of her, the part that relished in her almost primitive nature, pushed to flee, and it pushed hard, almost overwhelmingly. Almost. The older woman felt herself tense, involuntarily resisting that temptation, gaze snapping away from the window in an instant. The voice echoed in the back of her mind, and not for the first time. Stay put. Even now her younger lover was deep, too deep in her mind to let her escape. Was the half-demon complaining? With a frown, she realized she wasn't sure.
Unfortunately, the princess mistook her mental reverie for obstinance and had made a decision in the vampire's mental absence. "Marceline, look at me." Razor-sharp teeth grit in frustration. "You know what I want," she started. "I want you."
"You have me."
It sounded like a plea, which Bonnibel mercifully didn't acknowledge. Instead she crossed the distance between them, stopping before her companion. "You know what I mean, Marcy. My kingdom has law. In order for me to ascend my throne I need a suitor. A royal suitor." A pink hand caressed a grey cheek; the vampire had begun to bite the inside of it and she doubted the older woman even noticed, so busy was she looking anywhere but at her. "You meet that criteria," she encouraged, "but…"
Marceline gave a sigh of defeat. "...I need a kingdom of my own, and being the last of my kind doesn't cut it."
Princess Bubblegum let the tension hang in the air until it threatened to fester. "Why do you go back, Marcy?"
A grey hand came up to meet the pink one, cupping it. For a long moment the vampire was silent, lost in thought. When she finally spoke her voice was tight, controlled, and very unlike Marceline. "I get it, okay? I'm the one who has to watch all those dignitaries," she spat the word, "try to court you. I'm the one who had to watch Finn throw himself at you, knowing I couldn't do a lumping thing to stop him. I hate seeing you parade those stupid suitors around, Bonnie. I hate seeing the way they look at you, I hate seeing the smiles you give them. Those are my smiles. When they join you for dinner they sit in my seat. They bring you gifts, they tell you boring stories, they try to claim what belongs to me." A growl formed at the back of her throat, her eyes involuntarily pinning as her mind replayed all of the injustices for her, against her desire.
The princess was floored. While Marceline's jealous tendencies were never a surprise now was not the time for them to rear their ugly heads, and she had expected her to have the good sense to realize that on her own. Pink cheeks flushed in infuriation."I wouldn't allow any of those things to happen if you would just let our relationship be a matter for the public! You can't claim me without doing the work for it, you donkus!" Marceline shrank back. It was very rare indeed that her lover raised her voice at her in anger, true anger. But it's not like the vampire could argue that point, and even she wasn't bullheaded enough to fight her on it. When she didn't retaliate Bubblegum continued, animosity having failed to subside. "I'm a princess, Marceline, and one day I will have to marry royalty. As far as the kingdom… no, as far as all of Ooo knows I'm eligible and without a suitor, and so it is perfectly within the rights of other kingdoms to send their eligible princes to win my hand. I've denied them all - they know I don't date - but I can't exactly refute their attempts without making it public that I'm already being courted rather successfully, and someone won't let me do that!" Her words were cold enough to chill even the undead queen, who had fallen silent and suddenly felt very, very small. It had been decades since she had been on the receiving end of such vitriol. "Do you know how hard it is for me, Marcy? You can galavant and, and… party the night away while I'm forced to spend my nights entertaining dignitaries. You can ignore your birthright, sing to the moon, knowing with such security that when you do meander back to me I will let you back in my bed." She stopped for effect. "Why do you-"
Abruptly, Marceline took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm not an idiot, Bon. If I took over the Nightosphere I would have an actual kingdom again, and you could acknowledge me as your mate. Girlfriend. Whatever! So I go back sometimes… just to try-" To be good enough for you. She let that part go unspoken. Bonnibel's look was unreadable and the half-demon bit her cheek in her discomfort.
"What do you do when you go back there?" Marceline swallowed the tangy dead blood from her cheek. She hadn't even realized it was there, though she was now painfully aware of her flesh stitching itself back together. It made speaking cumbersome, and she hoped it would go unnoticed. Bonnibel had rules about absent-minded self-mutilation. "Mostly make my presence known. You know, send a message about what kingdoms on the surface world are off limits or I break faces and junk. Make it abundantly clear that you're off limits and I will not hesitate to murder every would-be assassin in increasingly creative and barbaric ways."
"Do you visit your father?" Garnet eyes slitted, narrowing suspiciously. She didn't know where this was going but she didn't like it. When she didn't respond Bonnibel tried a different way. "What would it mean for you to take over the Nightosphere? You never talk about it." And I deserve to know. She didn't say that part.
Marceline seemed to debate internally as to how much she should reveal. "I would rule over the whole place, Bon. I would sow chaos, rule with an iron fist, you know? I'd have to stay in one place, handle paperwork, play golf with Death. No more touring, no more harassing surface-dwellers for fun, no more random adventures with Finn and Jake." She hesitated at this point, but continued. If she failed to reveal everything it would constitute a lie by omission, and she didn't want to be on the receiving end of that lecture. "I would need to take the old man's amulet. It's… well, it's kind of hard to explain what it is exactly, but it's the source of most of his power, and it'd be the source of mine. But it's dangerous, Bon. Wearing it…" She shuddered at the memory, but Bubblegum wasn't going to let her off that easily. Her hand wrapped around its grey companion, offering a reassuring squeeze as she led the older woman to sit on the single bare steel bed, rather than its stool counterpart. Marceline offered a tired smile; only now was her journey starting to catch up with her. Leave it to Bonnie to notice before I did. She wasn't kidding about the candy woman being in her head.
"Finn mentioned it."
Now she was awake. Suddenly her summoning the two champions was beginning to make more sense. Why else would they be involved if not to rat her out?
"Oh."
Not her most eloquent response, but what else was she supposed to say?
"What was it like, Marcy?"
Her voice had become very soft, a tone of voice reserved solely for the vampire, as so much of the princess was. The half-demon wanted to argue, wanted to refuse point blank to answer the question, but green eyes were pleading with her own and she could feel her typically iron will bend. That falter was reserved solely for the princess, as so much of the vampire was. Her own voice was strained, forced to recall something her mind was hoping to block out for centuries more.
"It feeds off of you. It takes those dark aspects of you, the ones you try to control, and it amplifies them. It enhances you, yeah, but it does it by drawing out the worst in you. Pieces of yourself you don't want to admit are there. It'll find them, and it'll shove them in your face, and the urge to act on them is irresistible." Marceline paused, closing her eyes. "In daddy's case it brings out his sadism. He's literally Lord Evil after all. It allows him to focus on deriving power by subjugating others, torturing them for no real reason except stuff and giggles. He's had it long enough that he can relish in it. And he does. All the time. Loudly."
"Marceline, when the boys were trying to rescue you from the Nightosphere… what did you feel?"
Marceline stayed silent for what felt like hours, hoping that her princess would lose interest. She didn't, and she was forced to spill her secret. "Rage, Bonnie. Just… anger. I could feel every repressed aggressive feeling jump to the surface. Every injustice. If it was a thought I'd logicked out that just made it worse, because I became acutely aware of all the flaws in the my reasoning, and that just made me madder. There's no coming down from that. If they hadn't gotten it off of me I could have killed everything. Can you imagine the destruction I could bring to the surface world? Ooo isn't exactly fortified against a rampaging demon. Your kingdom is made of sugar for Glob's sake. I could wang the place to pieces, eat everyone red, kill everyone else… maybe even go back to drinking blood. And I would like it. I could destroy… everything." Her eyes opened to allow her to stare at the ceiling.
"You've never exactly hid from your demonic nature. How is this different?"
Marceline tore her gaze away from the white monotony of the ceiling, back to her princess. "It's different because I'm not in control. It's not on my terms. If I'm going to tear someone in half I want it to be because I chose to, not because some amulet told me that it'd be fun. I mean, it would be fun. But you know what I mean." Bonnibel nodded. How could she not? The princess had a dark streak of her own, and while she rarely did something as outlandish as rip creatures in half she had her own propensities, her own urges that, should the public be made aware, would result in revulsion and perhaps riots. It was one of the traits they shared, and she emphasized her compassion by taking a seat on the metal table. Encouraged, the half-demon continued her explanation. "It's addictive to have your every twisted urge rewarded. Even you provide me with structure and force rules down my throat, and you like that I'm basically a living weapon." Fair enough, Bonnibel thought, though she would never dare voice her agreement. Instead she reached out, motioning for the red-eyed woman to rest her head in her lap where she could stroke her inky-black hair.
The silence returned, but had evolved into something more comfortable. Although she was outwardly calm Bonnibel's thoughts were racing and she was laboring to wrestle them under control. She succeeded about the same time soft purring resonated from her lap, pink fingers having found a seemingly magical spot behind a grey ear. Not that there's such a thing as magic, of course. Just sensitive skin, gingerly tended to, culminating in a relaxed vampire. It never ceased to astonish the candy golem that she could hold one of the most dangerous creatures in all of Ooo in her arms passively, like a common housepet. Marceline knew her better than anyone, living, dead, or anywhere in between, and Bubblegum suddenly found herself with a deep sense of affection for the older woman, the only one to know that the pink princess could be just as dangerous, if not more so. For all of Marceline's strength she still possessed the full gamut of human(oid) emotions. Even Bubblegum couldn't say if the same could be said of her. Green eyes gazed at her girlfriend's relaxed face with a strange mixture of envy and pity. Reluctantly, she broke the silence. She still needed to win this battle before her champions found them; if the heroes arrived before she could convince Marceline to agree to her plan the vampire would simply shut down, and then she would be back to where she started on this topic. This was the closest she had ever come. She had to press her advantage. "Do you know what the biological handicap principle is, Marcy?" A grey head shook slightly, clearly trying not to detach from the pink hand still petting her.
"The biological handicap principle is a paradoxical scientific phenomenon that suggests certain organisms engage or display extravagant counterproductive traits or behaviors in order to signal other organisms, typically a potential mate, that they are honest or reliable." A red eye half-opened, the purring stopping. The explanation continued. "Like when an animal engages in a behavior that, logically, should hurt its ability to survive in order to signal its strength and desirability." Bonnibel waited to see if Marceline would catch her admittedly clumsy attempt to explain her sentiment for the vampire, but quickly deduced that, no, she did not. While the princess would normally shy away from such emotional displays this was her secret weapon, as science so often was.
"Well, it's like…" She stopped, quickly ordering her thoughts into something coherent for a punk layman. "It's easy to let you protect me. Every night when we go to sleep I always take my rightful spot in your arms. There's no place safer for me. All of my creations were built predisposed to worshipping me. I command their loyalty by design. My will is their will, and it's pretty great, without a doubt. But they have their weaknesses. I know what they are because I built them, and they, logically, try to avoid situations that exploit their weaknesses and harm them. You, on the contrary, actively engage in risky and dangerous behavior on my account, whether or not I express that I want you to. You take it upon yourself to put yourself in mortal danger every day you'd spend with me. You know the risks, yet you possess the will to do what you want anyway. You're an impossible puzzle, a cypher I have yet to crack. It's exquisite really. But there is one important thing I do know: My children were designed to love me, worship me, and protect me. I can count on that, but I can also count on their weaknesses. Their propensity to explode, exacerbated by their innate cowardice are two such weaknesses. But your weaknesses are so very different. Curiously, many of them are about me, which is of course to my advantage. But it isn't about advantage with you. You've protected me for hundreds of years of your own choice. I'm your greatest weakness." Green eyes turned fond as they watched garnet eyes slide close once more.
"And you know? That realization made me feel some mixed up things. I wanted to exploit you when I first reached this realization. I wanted to wrap you around my little finger. I wanted the control over one of the most powerful beings in Ooo. I couldn't figure out why you would subject yourself to such masochistic tendencies. I needed to understand, needed to know the limitations of your demeanor. I spent an inordinate amount of time with that desire, forming and testing dozens of hypotheses, which you did nothing to help." The older monarch smirked, not moving. "It took me years of investigation and experimentation, and when I finally solved the conundrum I realized that you must love me. That's what it means to be someone's greatest weakness. And you'd defy all of the logic I hold infallible to be my companion. So, I feel safe around my citizens and my guards, but in your arms I'm untouchable." She paused, letting her speech sink in before going for the kill. "If we can announce our union, if you would consent to publicly profess to being my suitor, then we would never need to separate. You could come out of the light of day, into my arms, where you belong."
Marceline tensed, but didn't pull away. This was a good sign, Bonnibel decided. The vampire had a notorious tendency to attempt to run when she felt cornered, and the reality that she was still lounging comfortably could only be a sign that she was giving the speech serious consideration. Or she fell asleep. When the undead monarch sighed the younger woman allowed herself a smile. Okay, not asleep. Excellent. "Responsibility demands sacrifice, huh Bon?" She said it without any humor, not bothering to hide the ashen tone. Still, she did not move, and the candy woman rewarded this development by placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. When pink fingers intertwined with grey she relaxed. "To be honest, Bonnie, I don't give a stuff about the Nightosphere." Bonnibel frowned. Please say 'but'... "But…" Yes! "I do give a stuff about you. And having responsibility for you. And if that means-" She choked on her words, flushing at the humiliation of having done so. "...I'll try to control the amulet. But that's all I'm promising. Not that I'll take over daddy's position. Just that I'll try to control the stupid thing."
Part of Bonnibel felt almost guilty at having manipulated her girlfriend to get what she wanted, using her heartguts feelings as a weapon to wear down her resistance. She did care deeply for the vampire, and that part of her knew such a tactic was unfair, almost dirty. But that part of her was small and insignificant. The rest of Princess Bubblegum was elated at having finally won this argument after centuries of trying. It wasn't like she was lying, of course. She did truly feel that way for the other woman, but Marceline had been difficult for long enough. It was time to put her millennia of experience to work and rule at the candy monarch's side, she simply wasn't responsible enough on her own to realize it for herself. You'll see, Marcy. This is for the best. You're making a wise choice.
"That's why you're bringing the guys over, isn't it? To convince me to go get the amulet?"
Bonnibel shook her head. "No, Marcy, not to convince you. I merely anticipated that you were ready for this next step in your life, and knowing that they have experience in the Nightosphere I thought you might enjoy having some-" bodyguards "...company when we make the journey."
One garnet eye, thankfully dilated, opened as Marceline raised an eyebrow. "When 'we' make the journey?"
Bubblegum nodded. "Of course! I'm going with you, obvs. And before you object, yes, I'm aware it's a messed up place, but it's part of who you are and I think it only fair on my part to see it." And to keep an eye on you. Marceline nodded absently, opening both eyes. The silence between them seemed to stretch. When the vampire spoke again she didn't bother to contain the nervousness in her voice.
"Bon… if I do try to control the amulet, and it wastes me-"
Bubblegum wouldn't let her finish that thought. She cupped both side of her face, directing it so that their eyes locked. "-Then I'll put you back together again. Stitch by stitch." She offered her softest smile and was rewarded with a slow but clear nod.
Were Marceline a logical creature she would have sensed the danger lurking beneath that comment. She would have outright refused, sticking to her guns, refusing to risk not only her safety but the safety of her friends. But she was not a logical being, she was a forsaken soul, ruled by instinct, that the younger woman could play like a violin. Deep in her heartguts she had always suspected that this would, in time, be her undoing. Despite this, however, she acted impulsively, as she nearly always did. "Alright, Bon. I trust you."
They stayed in that position for several minutes, though they barely noticed. When Finn and Jake finally made their appearance, yelling absolutely nothing intelligent in the vacant hallway, elated to be called on for a grand mission, they found Princess Bubblegum sitting ramrod straight on the metal table, caressing a small black, fluffy bat in her lap. It was dozing, curled back pressed against a pink torso, content.