[AN: Chapter two? Chapter two!]
Knighthood: Part Two
A golden hue of the sun's rays showered down upon the earth, the vegetation below still shimmering with the early morning dew. A perfume hung in the air, a sweetness that carried the bird songs further, crisp and full of mirth. The breeze, announcing the very end of Spring, became one in the air with a heat that hinted at a bountiful Summer.
A beautiful morning, Marshall thought, if the sun didn't always wanna fucking kill him.
He soared just above the treetops like a phantom dressed for winter to ensure not a bit of his skin was exposed to be burnt. Thick blue jeans and a varsity jacket made up the majority of his shield, accompanied by a pair of leather gloves, black rounded sunglasses, and a wound scarf that sat over the lower half of his face. A ridiculous getup, to be sure, but an easier pain to bear than scalding open sores.
Hidden eyes scanned the castle grounds as Marshall neared his landing, confirming his suspicions. Dozens of methods of arrival, each unique to citizens and royals of Aaa alike, had already found their places from a valet where they patiently awaited the owner's return. No one but a few stragglers, probably not even on the list, hung around outside near the guards, probably mid-fifth-attempt to lie their way in.
He was late late.
Now, there were perks with being the Marshall Lee; For starters, he was iconic enough, even with how he looked today, to be able to slip right by the guards with naught but some confidence and a couple of finger guns. He was privileged - and cursed - enough to know some of the best of the best and the worst of the worst that Aaa had to offer, meaning stories (oftentimes embellished, which he didn't mind) preceded him.
The vampire stepped into the archway of the castle's foyer. Before him stood a mixed blend of royals, aristocrats, and civilians alike, chattering away to themselves.
The royal announcer took a breath. So did Marshall.
"Marshall Lee Abadeer of the Night-O-Sphere," the announcer's heavily accented voice bellowed, "King to the Undead, Unholy Prince to the Damned, heir to the Demonic Throne."
…But there were also bad sides to being Marshall Lee. Like a switch, half of the room seemed to stop, necks craning, eyes locked on the newly intruding figure. There had been a time, he supposed, where the gawking and fear had amused him, feeding some vicious part of his ego. But just as the Vampire King never knew death, it seemed the same for the ravenous aristocrats; There was always some next generation, usually more of a nitpick than the last, with a refreshed drive for the bigger fishes in the pond.
In little ways, everything stayed.
He shirked the thought, hands slipping into his jean pockets as he continued his march into the den of beasts. In spite of how he detested playing, a thousand years had made him well aware of the game's rules; Eye contact was a direct challenge and an invitation for the swarm to invite themselves in, wielding gossip-dipped daggers behind every word presented with a smile.
He already knew what they thought of him. He didn't feel like a refresher course today.
And so, he continued through the room, thankful for the excuse to wear sunglasses, the smallest of silver linings that Bubba had decided to hold the ceremony so early.
"Marshall?"
Fuck.
He knew that voice.
A fang pecked at the inside of his cheek as he halted, wondering for but a moment if maybe, just maybe, one of the guests' ridiculous gowns would be big enough for him to duck under the fabric, never to be seen again. While it wouldn't be the first time he turned one of these asinine affairs into a real party, he knew the reality; He'd already been spotted.
Glob-damn it.
He swiveled back on his heel for his vision to be overtaken by an array of pink, most of it fine embroidered silk while bits of bubblegum skin peeked out here and there. Atop the whole flowery display sat a face he could have gone all day without seeing; Renaissance angelic features, face gently dusted with fine marble powder*. Soft lips curved into a smile. One that didn't reach his eyes.
"Hey." Was all the vampire could initially manage.
"How do you fare?" The prince asked, maybe a little loud. He then leaned in close, "You reek of cannabis." He hissed, "What took you so long?"
Several replies sat at the tip of Marshall's forked tongue, ready to pounce. They ranged all the way from witty and confident with 'You can't rush perfection', all the way to a dull strike below the belt of 'Ask your mother'. On any other day, he would have leapt at the opportunity to spit out such words, watching that stupid little face flush even further in horror.
But today wasn't just another day he was saddled with Mr. Perfection. Mr. Never-Pleased. No, today was Fionna's day, and admittedly, guilt had pooled somewhere in the pit of Marshall's gut.
"Work." He decided, which technically wasn't a lie; It just so happened that being a rockstar consisted of and usually ended in parties.
"Yes, well," The grin widened, "I do hope it was worth it."
With that, Bubba feverishly turned, seeming fully prepared to leave the vampire be when he stopped, glancing over his shoulder.
"Fionna's been looking for you. She was in the East drawing room, last I saw her."
—-
Granted, Fionna didn't hate it when Bubba accompanied her at parties; Being chaperoned and claimed as family by the patriarch of the country meant anyone who gave her grief would have one hell of a time later. She loved him, deeply, and if left to her own devices would probably give anyone who spoke ill of him a swift kick to the groin.
But with that being said…
She'd discovered a liveliness in her recent years, now trusted and old enough to be on her own, when she was left to mingle about by herself. Slipped away were the days where she was given a fraction of acknowledgement, spoken down to with especially pronounced smiles, nods, and 'Are you having fun?', which seemed to be the only question adults thought children could answer. In their wake came an era of rooms brimming with those eager to hear the adventures of the Hero of Aaa, hanging on her every word.
…And naturally, she had to dampen the violent retellings of her adventures when Gumball was present.
She stood in the center of the drawing room, using one hand to gather the fabric of her gown while the other gripped an imaginary sword. Eyes surrounded her from all angles, not a peep escaping from the room's denizens as a collective breath was held.
"There I was," she rumbled with suspense, "trapped at the edge of the cliff, the sugar dragon gaining on me. I thought my luck had run out. I knew if I wanted to live, there was one strike I had to make."
She glanced up, bringing life to the tale as if locking eyes with the beast of old from her tales.
"He charged me-"
The collective gasped like a hive mind, a few hands fluttering to open mouths as Fionna sidestepped, skirt swooshing about her as her free hand thrusted forward.
"-And I stabbed him right in the eye!"
There was a pause before the tension broke. Sighs and exclaims reverberated off the walls, applause rippling through the group like a current. Among it all, Fionna could feel herself beam, tiny golden strands flying this way and that as she took a bow.
Wanting to be sure she wouldn't receive another gently worded scold about how grisly stories were not the best way to entertain guests, she twirled about, scanning for anything of a rosy hue, met with surprise when a deep scarlet caught her attention instead. A varsity jacket, wrapped up as if prepared for freezing temperatures, arms crossed and leaning against the West door frame.
"Marshall!"
She rushed over, arms outstretched, nearly tackling the man in a vice grip hug, all too happy when he returned her crushing hold. She took in a deep breath, reveling in the smell she'd frequently associated with safety. It burned and comforted, reminding her of times since passed; Of whining electric guitars, of being taught how to do her first metal scream after a bad day. Of countless adventures into the wild to help her on her quests, each ending with a cautionary 'Don't tell Bubba, okay?'.
Maybe all of her family didn't see him as family. But if there was one thing Marshall taught her, it was how to live with a little rebellion.
"You made it!" She chirped once the hug had run its course.
" 'Course I did, Fifi." He said with a voice that sounded like a grin, "I might be a little late, but I'm not gonna miss this."
"I know. Thank you."
"Where's your big sis?"
"No clue." She stated, "Best guess would be anywhere with music or the snack table."
"Wanna go hunt her down? Real party's gonna be starting soon."
Knowing she was in a safe place to do so, Fionna tightened her hands into fists and raised them above her head, "Fuck yeah!"
—-
Of all the individuals Bubba had knighted over the years, he could say with absolute enthusiasm that Fionna the Human was the most unique of these circumstances. Not only was the young lady of the ancestral race that had paved the way before the Mushroom Wars, but many past scenarios left him not knowing his knights until they seemingly sprung up, ready to claim their title. Not this time. He'd had the liberty, the privilege, of watching Fionna grow and carry the unending human spirit with her. This wasn't just any knighting ceremony, but felt more a rite of passage to the girl. One that swelled his chest with pride, the sensation near overwhelming.
He stood before dozens upon dozens of seated guests, the freshly tended courtyard gleaming. Mindful of the press, which had melted into an endless clicking of camera shutters, he held his head high as he began his speech.
"Esteemed guests, old friends, I address you today from a place of deep joy. Over the life I have been gifted to know Fionna, I have known one who is truly admirable, courageous, and irrevocably kind-hearted. Already do we owe a debt to her chivalry, to which I know there is immeasurable gratitude. It is with the greatest honor that I should bestow her with this title, welcoming the first knight of a new era."
Lilac eyes flickered out to the first row, spotting the girl he'd grown so fond of. Both she and Cake, the poor things, sniffled one after another, though the roused excitement on Fionna's face was impossible to quell. She immediately offered him a grin.
He continued on, reciting the passage that had barely changed a day since first he spoke it, "I hereby pronounce that on this day, through her turmoil and sacrifice to the Land of Aaa, that Fionna the Human be admitted knighthood. Fionna, approach and kneel."
Wiping her eyes one last time and taking in a big sniffle for good measure, the girl stood, tripping up for but a moment before her sister steadied her. Quietly giggling it off, she gathered herself, still aglow as she neared the prince. She had been in the process of kneeling when again she lost her balance, a hitch of a gasp escaping her as she almost fell forward. Bubba immediately stretched out a hand, taking hold of her arm before she could plummet.
"Are you alright?" he whispered.
She nodded meekly, not meeting his eyes.
Once she'd comfortably knelt and seemed stable, he looked back to address one of the royal staff, expecting to receive the sword for the ceremony. Upon turning, he found a man with wide eyes that gazed beyond his ruler, swimming with concern.
"What is it-"
Thud.
There was a sharp gasp from the crowd, and with it came an increased shuttering of cameras. A cry from a familiar woman's voice pierced Gumball like a blade, filling his mind with images and ideas of what had happened, each somehow more horrific than the last.
"Fionna-!"
There upon the ground, crumpled into a pool of fabric and yellow hair, lay the soon-to-be knight.
He sank to his knees beside her, his breath catching in a gasp. Detached from himself, smoothed out into the edges of his own mind, he watched as his own arms reached for the body, scooping her up to cradle her against his chest.
"Call for an ambulance!"
[And finally, the stage is set. The real meat of the story waits ahead!]