Real talk: And we're back! Thanks for all your input guys, I'll be sticking to longer chapters with longer breaks between them. It's probably better this way anyway; whereas Rehearsal featured graphic violence all the time mental stuff is kind of the theme of Opening Act, so I imagine it'll take a bit more effort on both of our parts to digest.
Content warnings:
Bare-bones recap
Hearing helpful voices
Jan's back
PTSD
Bonnie CAN learn lessons, guys!
Self-Neglect
Angst
Naked lady
References to past lady-sexing
Silver.
Always silver.
A dagger, long, curved, gnarled, twisted. Corroded, stained, tarnished, tainted from its crimes.
She was tainted from her crime.
She wanted to say she was helpless to stop it, but every night she would grasp the blade in pink talons, feel herself grin, and plunge the blade into soft, helpless flesh. She wanted to say the flesh begged for it, but she knew better. There was another way. There had to be. She knew because she was smiling, telling herself it was For The Greater Good. But then she was a fantastic liar, so could she really trust herself?
And then the flesh would crumble away and the perverse, violent glee would fall away, the weight of reality crashing over her. As her stomach soured she goes to throw the wretched weapon away, only to find it fused to her hand. After all, she was the weapon. Always had been. The dagger had just been a tool, after all. The means to enact her will.
Only here would she be judged for her crime, but it wouldn't be her to pay the price, to take the punishment for her guilt. It was the deep garnet eyes as the light left them. Until that moment they had always said 'I trust you', but now they said nothing at all. And as her happiness fell to ash all pretense drops, and she sees herself for what she is.
Silver.
Piercing green eyes shot open, pink flesh drenched in a cold sweat. Instinctively her hand reached out to the other side but there was nothing there, no second occupant to share the massive bed, and Bonnibel Bubblegum sighed at the futility of it all, hand curled around open air. Once upon a time a beautiful woman with a melodic voice and devil-may-care smirk shared her - their - room. Once upon a time she would wake up to cool skin pressed into her back and strong arms holding her, affectionately, but also preventing her from leaving the embrace. And the princess would laugh, telling her to get off while doing absolutely nothing to support her claim that she really totally definitely needed to go do royal junk, and if the other monarch didn't behave she'd send her to the dungeon to 'cool her passions', or something else outlandish. It didn't deter her. It never did in hundreds of years.
Logically - and she was quite good at logic - Bonnibel had known that it was unlikely Marceline would make a complete return to Ooo immediately after the traumatic experience she had suffered. The vampire had spent the better part of a century - subjectively, at least - with her psyche shattered, parts of herself literally trying to destroy one another in an effort to be the last woman standing, the one piece of the whole to return to the real world, to leave the twisted and deranged wasteland, where malice flowed like veins of blood. It had taken everything and everyone and every drop of luck that existed in any reality to rouse the vampire as one whole being. Without Finn's courage and Jake's insight they never would have succeeded, and she owed them more than she could ever repay.
Bonnibel knew that it might be years before her love was truly her old self again, and that it was entirely possible that she may change in some ways without even being aware of it. The princess especially knew that she had mountains of work ahead of her in redeeming herself for her countless sins, her long history of abusive tendencies and sociopathic traits. What exactly had possessed Marceline to agree to hearing the candy golem out, to talking before taking any rash action, was beyond the younger woman. It was utterly irrational and made absolutely no sense. But then… Marcy is never rational, and I've never appreciated that more than in this moment.
After Marceline's brief reintroduction to Ooo through the gift of her moon and stars she had returned to the Citadel; it was quite clear to everyone involved that she was exhausted, and there was the Sky Ball of Death to contend with sooner rather than later, a fact of life no one was looking forward to teaching her. And so Bonnibel, Finn, and Jake had escorted their friend back to her room in the Citadel, where the princess had tucked her into bed, wrapped her in every blanket she could find, slid a silence-cancelling bud into her sensitive ear, been pried away by her champions, and let her rest.
In spite of everything, Bonnibel had still hoped that the vampire would at least dip a toe out of the Nightosphere, at least poke her head out of the pocket dimension. She had been prepared for anger, indignity, disgust, any number of emotions that were totes valid responses to everything. She deserved them, but she was determined to show the other woman she had changed, for realzorz. More than anything, though, she was ready to wait, something she wasn't always the best at when it prevented her from getting her way. But she had promised herself, and silently promised the older woman, that she would sit in Ooo patiently, ready to join Marceline in the Nightosphere the moment her queen was herself ready to confront the woman who was her mate, whether she wanted her to be or not.
What was that pre-War expression about the plans of mice and men? Because what she hadn't been prepared for was their conversation being delayed if not outright prevented not by Marceline herself, but by her father.
Like most things in life Bubblegum had assumed that the portal would respond to her beck and call, allowing her access between the worlds when the moment finally arrived and Marceline was ready. To their collective horror Bonnibel, Finn, and Jake realized all-too late was that the three had only ever entered the Nightosphere through the incantation with Marceline's direct or indirect assistance, and she was distraught to learn that this was simply Not How Things Work in the Nightosphere, that the sheer level of baffling bureaucracy that she had previously admired could actually work against her, preventing her from seeing the love of her endless life.
There were forms to requisition, paperwork to fill out in triplicate - only to throw into various holes and elemental bodies - sacrifices to be made - she hated that lamp anyway - and even then it took Peppermint Butler's curious connections and a legitimate use of the phrase 'do you know who I am?!' before the goal was accomplished: they had an appointment with the Lord of Evil. The fact that the 'goal' had been a stupid appointment left a bitter taste in her mouth, and the entire process was infuriating for so many reasons. Didn't Hunson care about his daughter's recovery? Weren't there exceptions to standard procedures for foreign dignitaries? She knew the man held a low opinion of her at the moment, but couldn't she be granted some leeway, given her position as Marceline's mate, a bond that was out of both of their control.
Her esteemed servant had been there to patiently explain that 1.) Of course Hunson cared, but objectively speaking there was nothing substantial she or either of her champions could offer his daughter to help her recover except emotional recovery, and the man was just as bad as she was at understanding the importance of emotional recovery, 2.) Time had no meaning in the Nightosphere, and was in fact an entirely foreign concept that a man whose existence predated the dawn of it, and 3.) These were the exceptions, this was the leeway. With a look of pity in his eyes he chided her for not bothering to learn, to fail to understand the way her own lover's homeworld - the kingdom she herself had demanded she rule - functioned as an entity before thrusting her in the heart of all of this.
She added it to her 'to-do' list.
Bubblegum sighed and sat up, the thick pink blanket falling away from her, hand reaching up to where her neck met her shoulder, entirely unsure why she was torturing herself but knowing she deserved it. By now Marceline's bite had long since healed, her proclamation's parchment tattered on the castle's wall, her citizens - her sweet, simple children - had long grown to accept the Kingdom's strange new law, and yet the candy golem had failed to grow accustomed to her lover's absence. Not that she wanted to. She refused to accept her absence as the New Normal, actively resisted letting herself grow used to it. She was just Temporarily Away and would be back Any Day Now.
Maybe if she told herself it enough she'd start to believe it. She Had To. And because She Had To she had made it a point not to change anything in her - their - room. The bed was just as luxurious and soft as it had always been, even if it did feel hard and cold. The walls were still smooth pink stone, garish in their bareness. The floor was still lavender stone and cold to her bare feet, the pink-spotted white floor rug unblemished. Her trio of massive golden bookshelves were stuffed to full capacity and full dry, academic things that no she could no longer concentrate on or derive pleasure in reading. Her hand-carved, large pink desk, with its flourished, lavender accents was full of the physical manifestation of her royal life, all documents for her perusing, her signatures, her seal, because even if half of her was missing life still continued on.
She just continued on autopilot. No one seemed to notice. Well, no one except-
"Your Majesty."
Bonnibel almost groaned in annoyance, but refrained. Peppermint Butler had been nothing but supportive from the moment he watched her awaken from the VR nightmare to find his liege soaked in the blood of the woman he at the very least highly disapproved of. It was bizarre, really; he had never approved of their relationship and had always been vocal that she should pick literally anyone else as a romantic partner and have it be an unquestionable improvement, and so she had expected him to use her vampire's condition and their tumultuous status as an example of why their relationship may not be in his princess's best interest.
And yet just the opposite had proven true. While he would never pretend to approve of the older woman he had taken it upon himself to relieve Bubblegum's agony as much as possible, rearranging her schedule to match those rare moments Jan would nervously emerge from the Nightosphere with news and updates, making sure the princess appeared in public only when necessary and for brief stints, fielded calls from Phoebe, and, in essence, assuring that no one who was not already aware of the situation became aware of the situation. As far as the Candy Kingdom and Kingdoms beyond were concerned everything was as it had always been.
She sighed, already knowing what he was going to say.
"I have brought you breakfast. You'll try to send it away. It will be the third time in a row you try that. It's not going to work anymore. Besides, you know what today is. Better eat now, because you won't want to eat what's there."
Only two people in any world were allowed to take that tone with her, and he was one of them. Bonnibel groaned at the futility of it all because he was right, right about all of it. It was only in Marceline's absence that Bubblegum had begun to realize how deeply rooted the half-demon was in her life, and her inability to care for herself would be comical if it weren't so pathetic. But that's what it was: pathetic. She was almost 900 years old, the matriarch of the most powerful kingdom in the world, and here she was being lectured by her own creation because she hasn't been eating. Or sleeping, because of the nightmares. Or even being in her lab, because wow it was quiet without her lover.
The irony that in spite of everything she may need Marceline more than Marceline may need her was not lost on her.
The half-demon had once made a snide comment that she had no idea how deeply in her head Bonnibel was. The princess had never once thought to consider the converse, of how she had a nasty habit of assuming that the vampire would always be around, always there to tease her, to frustrate her, to love her-
Her festering thoughts were interrupted by the piercing light of the morning sun as Peppermint Butler pulled back the blackout curtains, possibly because he was preparing her room, possibly to prove a point. When she turned to glare at him he raised an eyebrow and knew it was Option B: Prove a Point, and it wasn't that her pink puffy plants needed more light. "Your Highness, I must insist. You have a very trying day ahead of you. Finn and Jake will be here soon enough, and if nothing else you'll need the energy for them. So there's two reasons you should be eating breakfast." She shot a pointed look at his snide tone, but relented because he was right, and even now Princess Bubblegum was all about logic. At least he refrained from looking smug once she began to reluctantly munch on her waffles, waffles that were delightfully drowned in fresh, warm syrup. He was playing dirty, and he clearly knew it. The fiend. "Your bag and wardrobe have been prepared, the former by the door, the latter folded on the tacky beanbag chair you insist on keeping."
She ignored that. "What's the cover story this time?"
"The citizens believe you have been kidnapped once more, and that Finn and Jake are on their way to rescue you." Simple, but effective, as all successful lies are. Not that her children would realize that this would be the second time in a row she had been 'kidnapped', nor would it occur to them that it was just the latest in an odd string of disappearances. They may not even notice, probably wouldn't even ask. Even if they did notice they would just be relieved to see her in one piece, unharmed and just as regal as she had always been. Her sweet, simple children.
But for now that was neither here nor there and she nodded, but it was absent. Her butler didn't blame her. Never once in his long life did he ever anticipate missing the vampire queen, but he knew his mistress better than anyone - save one - and knew how obsessive she could be. How her over-analytical mind needed to have a project of some sort, something to focus on, and in the absence of acceptable stimuli it would turn on itself and self-destruct. Much like it was doing right now. He could only hope that when all was said and done the day would lead to some good news or any kind of positive development, because she may be a convincing liar, but even the princess wouldn't be able to maintain the charade of normalcy forever.
"Alright. Thanks, Pep. I'm going to get ready. If Finn and Jake arrive before I finish find some way to distract them, please."
She had made it halfway through the waffles and downed the sweet juice before giving up, and that was good enough for him. With a genuine smile he bowed, gracefully whisking the tray away. "Will do, Your Majesty." Without a word - and without any ability for her to argue - he took his leave, striding to the great tan door and silently departing. The moment he was gone Bonnibel groaned once more, throwing herself back on the bed, hands covering her face, as if blocking the light from her eyes would solve all of her problems. This had been the day she was dreading, the day she was anxious for, the reason she had for patiently counting the days on her calendar, her greatest fear and joy rolled into one come true, the moment of truth. But she had made a promise to Navigator, a promise to Rechte, a promise to the Unifier that she would try this strange new life strategy of actually being honest. And as awkward and painful and judge-y as the conversation would be, she had one very specific form of honesty, one discussion she had been dreading, had spent many an hour trying to find some way to avoid, and it was time she stopped running.
She had a very clear newfound understanding of why Marceline ran when an emotional situation began to spiral.
With a resigned huff the candy golem rose from the bed, stretching until she felt the satisfying *pop* of her spine aligning itself. The relief was short lived, however; centuries in her line of work meant that Bonnibel was prone to muscle spasms, and her back was the epicenter of it. The constant stream of nightmares was certainly not helping, but the worst part wasn't the pain itself - she had a rather high pain tolerance - it was knowing that Marceline wasn't there to help her. She could do it herself, of course - the vampire had taught her the secret years ago to treating a stubborn spasm - but it was the little things, those tiny changes in her day-to-day existence, that ate at her. And, as Jake was fond of saying in happier times, the little things make up life.
By the time her mind returned to reality she had already retrieved her small bundle of clothing from the purple beanbag and locked the door to her bathroom. It was a large room, with a white and black marble sink and counter sitting below a massive vanity mirror. The cupboard to the right was already filled with hand and body towels, mostly pink with a few red where the sets had been broken up. She slid the bundle of clothes in the empty slot, for everything had its place and everything must return to its place.
Once inside the bathroom proper she locked the door and turned on the shower, but rather than hop in she instead decided that stalling was all the rage these days, so who was she to argue? Instead she buried her face in her hands and yelled as quietly and long as possible, praising herself for her forethought of building a soundproof bathroom. Of course, it was meant to be soundproof for an altogether different reason, one that even now made her blush, but this worked too. As long as she didn't think about it too much, because then the nostalgia just turned painful.
Locking those memories in their own special mental compartment,Bonnibel resigned herself to the task at hand and stripped herself of her yellow and blue spotted nightgown, folding it and placing it on the sink. Now nude, she appraised herself. Or, more accurately, her right shoulder, which was supposed to sport two small puncture marks made with surgical precision, centered in a pool of grey. Logically she knew they'd be gone by now, healed through the curse of time, but like any compulsion she was unable to resist the desire to look for them, no matter how much it hurt to see them gone. And oh how it hurt, because those two tiny wounds were caused by a vampire bite, the puddle of grey the result of the vampire draining the younger woman's color. It was something Marceline had never been able to explain - to Bonnibel or herself - but the act of biting meant the mark of possession, and in biting her mate the musician was declaring the young scientist spoken for.
The pink-haired woman knew what many thought of Marceline, what Marceline thought of herself, and even she had to admit that the idea of a vampire bite in of itself sounded macabre. It certainly did to the first time it had ever happened. The first time they had made love, had explored one another so nervously but so eagerly, and Marceline had bitten her, but it hadn't hurt. Far from it; it was the most euphoric experience she had ever felt in her life. Feeling the small amount of her color drained - for pink was a shade of red after all, and Marceline was a staunch vegetarian - only added to the pleasure. Perhaps it was a vampire hunting tactic to prevent prey from fleeing, or maybe it was due to the raw intensity of the entire experience they were sharing. Regardless, it was bliss, turning the experience into a ritual. In their five centuries together the bite had only faded a handful of times, usually on purpose; Bonnibel never could bring herself to let it be seen publicly because there would be too many questions she couldn't answer. But even then there was always the knowledge that Marceline would be all too happy to break that taboo for her just about anytime. Or anywhere.
Things were different now. The bite had faded, and because Marceline was still indisposed their relationship status was one giant question mark, with any sense of closure in limbo. For all the princess knew Marceline missed her just as much. But then, for all she knew the vampire never wanted to see her again. Not after… well, basically everything. How odd it was to miss a wound. But she did. And the intimacy. The security. The love. The support. The companionship.
Everything.
But she had an appointment to keep, and so she tore her eyes away from the mirror to enter the shower, pointedly ignoring the hot tub in the back that she and her mate had so often shared. In keeping with the princess's egotistical nature she had purposefully designed the most luxurious shower imaginable, with dozens of settings and responsive temperature control. Under the jet stream Bubblegum took a few brief moments of golden blankness, forgetting everything that had led to that moment, everything that was left to do. She forced her mind to dance the line between nostalgia and torture, remembering happier times while mentally deafening herself to the whispers of what if she doesn't come back? What if this is it, and all I have are my memories? What am I supposed to do then? What if she doesn't recover? What if-
With great mental exertion she sliced the train of thought off before cutting the water. Sometimes being the smartest mind in all of Ooo was a real drag, because that mind sometimes liked to work in overdrive, and without her permission. But it had made its point: the shower had memories she was not ready to cope with yet. Snatching a towel from the towel warmer - one of her more ingenious if not simplistic inventions - the princess quickly dried herself, the eagerness of seeing her queen once more finally creeping up to her, merging with the nauseating knowledge that the reunion came with a prior commitment, that she needed to satisfy the gatekeeper's demands before she could claim her prize.
In his wisdom Peppermint Butler had selected an outfit for her that deviated sharply from her normal graceful royal attire. No, this time she would dress like and be an equal, a woman come to beg her mate's forgiveness rather than a princess come to drag her property home. The thought left a sour taste in her mouth. You really thought of her that way. Like she was a possession. She was the greatest thing to ever happen to you, and you treated her like an object designed for your amusement. And then a new voice broke the preoccupation of blame and self-doubt, one that sounded decidedly like an old friend. A very specific old friend.
Then show her that you changed. Stop focusing on what happened and start getting ready for what's next. She wants to talk to you, remember? Man, for such a brainlord you can be a huge dork, Bon.
That teasing thought elicited a small but genuine smile. Perhaps it was unhealthy, but Rechte's guiding voice was often what broke her mental beratement these days, reminding her that she was being ridiculous in only the way Marceline could, and though she had only been the vampire's interpretation of Reason she held profound wisdom, because despite what Young Bonnibel thought Marceline was a wise woman, even if over-emotion often crippled that gift. But Older Bonnibel had met that wisdom untainted, that wisdom personified, and it was this guidance that sometimes got her out of bed in the morning. So, unhealthy objectively speaking, but better than the alternative.
With a smile only half-forced she hung her yellow towel on the brass hook, leaning against the pink stone wall as she donned her scarlet bra and panties - purely out of habit, of course, not blind and pathetic hope - a pair of simple blue-washed jeans, soft yellow shirt and lavender hoodie, the complement to the sneakers she would slip on just outside the door. After the great effort of tying her hair back she finally exited the bathroom, technically ready for the day ahead of her. But it didn't get real until the knock on her bedroom door and-
"They're in the spy room. I gave them a kaleidoscope to keep them entertained."
And then Peppermint Butler was gone, not even giving his liege the chance to respond with some order. No opportunity to stall. Probs for the best. Not wanting to give herself a chance to hinder her own progress Bonnibel picked up her rather bulging brown messenger bag, secured it tightly and, with a deep breath, exited her room as silently as possible. Not that it seemed to matter; the hallway was oddly vacant, devoid even of the sound of her childrens' laughter. It made her smile. Thanks, Pep. At least I won't have to explain why I'm going to a room that doesn't exist. Because the spy room didn't exist, at least on paper. Why would it? Its original purpose was to house her Super Secret Spy System, a mechanized monstrosity capable of spying on every Ooo citizen of note, destroyed only after Phoebe had called her out on her paranoid and vindictive ways. Now the room only served as a getaway for when she and Marceline needed some extra privacy. At least, it did. More importantly for now, though, it would serve as the gateway to the Nightosphere, just as it did when this adventure began.
Bonnibel took a deep, steadying breath, willing herself to move forward, to meet her gallant champions, to officially begin the next stage in their adventure. Yet her feet wouldn't move, her mind kept finding little occupations that demanded her attention in a subconscious attempt to slow her down, and her mind alternated between praising her for her ability to stall and reminding her that she had been waiting a long time for this appointment, and it was time to get her butt in gear, to get going to, to try really hard not to ruin everything this time because she was already getting a second chance and you don't get second second chances-
Chill, Bon. Since when do you do the whole self-doubt thing?
Oh, I don't know, Rechte, quite possibly since I shattered your mind?
Eh, not like I was using it much anyway, right? Come on, Bon. You need her, and she's gonna need you, even if she doesn't know it yet.
Yes, having mental conversations with what amounted to a figment of her lover's imagination couldn't possibly be a healthy coping mechanism, but it was certainly effective, and before she realized as much Bonnibel had already made up her mind, following the winding path to the spy room. She's right. Or… I'm right. If I can persuade Marcy to come home she'll need all of us to help her readjust. If I don't do this now I'll just be confirming for both of us that I care more about my desires and comfort than her own. A part of our relationship has always hinged on my guiding and steadying her. I have to show her that I can protect her, just as she's always protected me. When her hand touched the brass knob and her shoulder nudged the 'Do Not Enter' sign out of her path a voice not her own once more whispered,
See? You got this, Bon.
Not healthy in the slightest. But effective.
When she pushed open the door she found Finn and Jake exactly as Peppermint Butler said they would be: engrossed in a cheap plastic kaleidoscope the princess often used to entertain the youngest of her citizens when she held court. When Finn noticed her entrance - as well as her bag of what was obviously loot - he brightened, leaving the toy to his brother as he waved. "Hey PB! You all psyched to see Marce again?!" The human grinned, obviously himself 'psyched', being dressed in his uniform adventuring outfit and all. It was hard to ignore his enthusiasm and she let her small smile widen. After all, without her gallant champions Marceline - Whole Marceline - would have been a thing of the past, would never have won the 'survival game' her components found themselves in. She owed them. She owed them, and they never said a word, didn't even see it as them being owed anything. They were heroes, they were friends, these things just happened to mix this time.
The princess was still too new to this 'heartguts emotions' thing to know what to make of that, but was determined to learn. "Yes, I'm quite eager, Finn. But first we have an important task ahead of us. Did you bring-"
The boy held up his bag triumphantly, as if it held all the secrets in the universe. "Yup, got it all right here. Pep-But said that Jan said that Hunson said the portal should empty right in the Citadel. Not really sure where in the Citadel, but you know. We'll figure it out. Adventuring 102. Figurin' stuff out." As he nodded sagely he knelt, opening his bag to withdraw its contents. Silently, Bonnibel was a tad relieved. While the denizens of the Nightosphere were concerning she just wanted to get this over with, and was thankful not to have to engage in a long walk, as they had done last time.
While his brother prepared the summoning circle Jake looked up from his toy, oddly unphased by the idea of returning to the land of homicidal demons, and without a homicidal demon of their own. Then again, after everything that happened in the Mindscape maybe he was just desensitized to it all. "You ready, Bubblegum?," he asked in a tone both knowing and determined. Even he knew that this was about to be a heavy conversation.
That's a loaded question if I've ever heard on. "I've come prepared." She patted her own bag, but her champion raised an eyebrow, as if silently telling her 'that wasn't what I meant'. Glob it. She took a steadying breath, then exhaled her concerns. "I'm ready, Jake. There will be much for us to do, but I-"
"Maloso vobiscum et cum spiritum!"
As happy as she was to see the grey wall crack a split, only to be replaced with a friendly blue portal, Bonnibel frowned at her rare moment of emotional honesty being interrupted. Thanks a lot, Finn. Still, it was hard to argue with his enthusiasm, and her annoyance faded almost immediately. I suppose he's just excited to see Marcy as well. Alright, Finn. All is forgiven.
She could almost hear Rechte's sarcastic snort from the back of her mind as the boy bowed, possibly sardonically, outstretching an arm to the portal. "Your portal awaits, m'lady."
With all the grace an emotionally frazzled princess in a hoodie could muster she stepped through the portal, knowing her champions would be right behind her. There were many reasons for joining her this day - missing Marceline being the foremost - and one of them was for her own protection, because although the tale was largely a series of misunderstandings the end result was Bonnibel managing to enrage most of demon-kind, which now saw fit to attempt to end her life at every opportune moment. Traditionally, defending her was a burden/thrill that fell to Marceline, but with her lover out of commission it would temporarily fall to the mere mortals. There was no saying that even with Hunson's invitation his subjects would let them be; after all, every demon there ever was seemed to know that his illustrious daughter was the candy golem's mate and that never seemed to stop them. It could be entirely possible that the portal would open into a literal sea of demons, all vying for her blood, even if it really did plop them out into the middle of the Citadel.
Instead the portal found Bonnibel before one specific demon. A demon she was very familiar with, whose presence caused her candy skin to bristle, her eyes to narrow. "Jan."
He was equally unhappy to see her, but for very different reasons, and when she stood to her full height over him he yelped, bowing low, a black stick falling to his side thoughtlessly. "Your Majesty! How… uh… nice to see you! How's the family?"
Before she could retort that he knew exactly how her family was she was joined by her champions, who for possibly the first time in their lives stopped to observe the situation before reacting to it, taking stock of the demon that seemed so familiar they could almost-
"Oh hey! I remember you! You're the guy Marce almost killed!"
The strange creature narrowed his eye and chanced a glare at Jake. Not that he could be in any way considered intimidating. He was smaller than a demon in his position should be, all humanoid (except the missing torso) and a flaxen yellow. He had three large eyes surrounding his round mouth; if not for the black pupils they would have blended right into his body. He had three fingers - claws, really - on each hand, and no toes. His leg seemed badly damaged, the stick tossed the side obviously being used as a crutch or cane of some sort. Almost definitely because when the group had first met him he had tried to kill Bonnibel and Marceline had broken it severely in retaliation. Honestly, Bubblegum was impressed it was still attached and at all workable. What she was more impressed with was how visibly afraid of her he was. She almost smirked, tried to resist every natural urge that threatened to overwhelm her, tried to keep to her promise of learning to be good and not a sadistic-
Nah, go ahead. It's hot.
You're not helping, Rechte.
I'm not trying to, Bon.
Fair enough. "Jan, stand up."
Now he was glaring at her for her purposefully poor choice of words. With great effort he reached his stick and rose, the strain clearly one that was causing great pain and suffering. Only Finn felt a pang of pity; Bubblegum wasn't exactly a forgiving person, and though she had made great strides she was still learning and, knowing how dark this could really go, decided that sometimes the least expected need to be saved. "So you're here to bring us to Hunson, Jan?"
He didn't stop his glaring, speaking through gritted teeth. "Yeah. He has a sick sense of humor like that. So let's go, I don't got all day. I have other stuff to do. But she," he lifted his stick, pointing it at the candy woman with shaking hand, "stays in the back."
Finn glanced between a befuddled - yet obviously amused - Bonnibel and a clearly not at all amused Jan, then frowned. "Dude, not cool."
Jake crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes in agreement. "Yeah, you're the one that started it. Besides, Marce isn't here to kick your butt. I mean, we're expert butt-kickers, but-"
That was enough of the word 'butt' to Jan, who threw his hands up in exasperation. "Look, I don't know if Marceline is here right now. She goes invisible. Besides, I'm not taking any chances. She's been lashing out at just about everyone for no good or bad reason all the time, and I'm not gonna give her an excuse to turn me inside out."
An alarm bell went off in Bubblegum's mind. "What do you mean she's lashing out? And may I remind you that if you hadn't attacked me-"
He waved his hand dismissively. Dismissively, and yet he still avoided her eyes. "Yeah, I don't know what's going on here, but you should see what she did to the left flank of the Citadel. It's mostly fixed now, but said wanged the whole thing apart! So yeah, I'm not taking any chances. Not all of us fall squarely in the Abadeers' perpetual good graces. Must be nice, but, you know. The obvious." And with that he turned on his un-mangled heel, all-but forcing the trio of surface-dwellers to follow him, his slow gait allowing them to take in the sights of the internal Citadel, a destination denied to even most Nightosphere residents.
As they maneuvered through the winding hallways Bonnibel was struck with a powerful sense of deja vu, because by now she was learning that Peppermint Butler was right, and time really did have no domain in the Nightosphere. The Citadel's walls were still dark, smooth, and hard as stone; when Finn noticed her longing stare he took it upon himself to gingerly touch them with his flesh arm, nodding in her direction to confirm they were warm, just as they were when they last visited. The carpet was still maroon and lined with gold cloth, in perfect condition. All manner of weaponry hung on the walls, as did statues of grotesque statues Marceline had once taught her were called 'gargoyles' before the Mushroom War.
Unlike the Candy Kingdom Castle the Nightosphere's doors and rooms were kept closed and, she suspected, locked, secrets shielded from the visitors. The doors themselves were brown or black and looked strangely like wood, an oddity given that there was no wood in the pocket dimension, an oddity she had given no thought to since it first manifested. Did she still wish to solve that mystery? Yes. Did she have bigger problems at the moment? Definitely. A pang in her heart reminded her that she had once hoped Marceline would give her a tour. Maybe one day she will. She imagined what it would be like, her best friend showing off her birthright and the world she was prophesied to inherit if the Cosmic Owl was to be believed. But that was a goal for a different day, a potential gift for Future Bonnibel. How she envied her.
As they meandered Bonnibel began to trail behind, hesitation warring against hope, a fact missed by Jake but not by Finn. It caused him to smile sadly. I know, Bubs. It'll be okay. She'll be okay. Wanting to make sure no one disturbed the sanctum of her private thoughts he glanced down at the grumbling demon, leaving his brother bridge the gap between the front of the group and the princess. Jake may not be paying attention in the moment, but he would notice immediately if she fell too far behind. After all, they were both seasoned adventurers, and that was a pretty common concern in escort quests. "Hey Jan, what do you do around here?"
The yellow demon shifted his eye up, suspicious of the comment but even more suspicious of the sincere tone. "Why?"
Finn shrugged. "I never really talk to demons that aren't Marce, and you keep showing up."
Jan sighed in a way Finn guessed was probably overly-dramatic, possibly even 'woe-is-me'-ish. "I'm like Hunson's 'go-to' lowly menial speck. I cook, I clean, I file paperwork, take stock of the ancient evil artifacts he's collected over the centuries, play errand-demon, collect taxes, hire staff to replace lost or devoured staff, do dances because the boss thinks it's funny, and apparently play tour guide to surface dwellers."
Jake raised an eyebrow. "Wait, demons pay taxes?"
"Everyone pays taxes," he muttered. "Only way out of it is to die, and if you try that Death just sends you back here with an angry letter stapled to some appendage you value, so you have to pay taxes and the delivery fee. So yeah."
"Huh. Didn't think demons did junk like that. What do you do with them?"
"Whatever Hunson wants. Sometimes he just throws it in the fire, or drops it down a pit. Last year he held a battle royale where the winner got all of it. Year before that he lost it in a poker game against some dream bird or something. One time he transmuted it into a statue of himself and made us write reviews on how awesome it was. You know, perfectly logical stuff." When they finally came before a door so much like the others, and so much larger, the demon seemed relieved. "Well, this is your stop. I'm out of here before he tells me he needs me for some other humiliating task." And with that Jan was gone. Slowly. Due to the hobbling.
At first no one moved, but slowly Finn and Jake looked over their shoulders at Bonnibel, waiting for her direction, politely not pointing out how she was very clearly hesitating. How nervous she looked. How it was obvious she wasn't sleeping, or eating. She was paying them no mind, focused only on the black door before her, knowing that as unpleasant as this mission was, how she would finally have to start truly paying for her centuries of mistakes, responsibility demanded sacrifice, and she had a responsibility to Marceline. With set jaw and straight back she approached the door, made to push it, stopped, thought better of that, and knocked instead.
Within moments the door opened of its own accord and inside the three found Hunson Abadeer, Lord of Evil and Ruler of the Nightosphere, at his desk. It struck Finn just how different his desk was from Lady Evil's, even if the latter had literally been a figment of his friend's shattered mind. Unlike her flashy desk drenched in vanity Hunson's desk was purely utilitarian, meant to serve a function and nothing more: black, made of the same pseudo-wood as the doors, with two compartments setting three drawers per side. The top featured a simple grey monitor and green keyboard a calendar in the upper left corner, and a long yellow parchment with a mount for an accompanying grey quill next to a grey phone that was obviously made before the bombs fell. The one indicator of its owner's individuality was a simple plastic transparent picture frame, turned away from the group. In the exact spot Lady Evil's had been. Not gonna think about that, nope. Before his desk sat three simple black chairs, the only indication thus far that he had been expecting the three.
While Finn was preoccupied with Hunson himself Jake was more interested in the office, which seemed exactly as he remembered it. Not that much time had passed since the first part of their adventure concluded, and so it made perfect sense that nothing had changed; still the portrait of himself playing golf with Death on otherwise bare walls, the window displaying the chaos and frustration of the Nightosphere denizens right behind him, allowing him to admire his handiwork in sowing confusion and chaos any and all the time. The only difference seemed to be a sizeable dent in the right wall, as if something small collided with the stone with enough force to break the stone. He tried very hard not to think about that one, and succeeded, for Jake was very good at ignoring things that were unpleasant.
"Oh, there you are!"
Despite the morbidity of the circumstances Hunson was still smiling - albeit a slightly strained smile - as he rose from his desk to greet his guests. Like the rest of the Nightosphere he himself hadn't changed either; same suit, same haircut, same undercurrent of chaotic evil. Same old, same old. "Finn, Jake, how good to see you again! Princess, thank you for returning." There was so much sentiment loaded in those last five words that it was amazing they didn't combust, and her mind couldn't help to break down as many translations as it could as fast as it could: thank you for owning up to your mistakes; thank you for not being a coward; I hope you're here to try to fix your mess; because, really, this is your mess isn't it?
Or maybe she was reading too much into it. It wouldn't be the first time.
"Please, call me Bonnibel." It was the second time in her life she had uttered those words, and, like before, they also surrounded a messed up situation, a failed machination wrought with pain and suffering because she thought she knew what was best and instead caused pain and suffering. "And thank you for meeting with us." He's just another foreign dignitary, Bubblegum. Who… happens to be the father of your mate. Who… isn't doing so hot. No, that isn't helping. Focus!
But, to her great fortune, Hunson only smiled and nodded, gesturing to the chairs. "Come in, sit down. Now, how can I help you kids?"
Once more Finn and Jake turned to Bonnibel for guidance, ready and willing to act as a physical and emotional buffer between the two parties. When she strode into the room proper and lowered herself into the middle seat they exchanged a look and joined her, Finn settling at her right, Jake on her left. It was only once they were situated that Hunson returned to his own seat. "I made a promise after we returned from Marceline's mind that once things were settled I would tell you everything that happened. I've come to fulfill that promise."
Now his smile seemed to take on a morose edge, but his nod was knowing. "I'm glad I'll know. Marceline…," he sighed, "she hasn't been ready to talk about… well, anything." He shook his head, and though more alarm bells rang in the princess's mind she was forced to silent them, because Hunson was actually speaking freely about his daughter's condition, and that was more important. "But we can talk about that after. So tell me, Bonnibel… what happened after the three of you put on those weird helmet things?"
The pause she took to collect her thoughts was a long one, for she had many thoughts, but no one disrupted her as she formed a plan of attack, an explanation that was both matter-of-fact and a clear indicator that she was taking responsibility for her actions, that she was here not only to inform but to make amends. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw a reassuring thumb's up from Finn. It was enough.
"The devices we used belong to my virtual reality system. We used them to enter Marceline's mind with the intention of locating and retrieving her. Marceline and I had successfully used the system before with a similar purpose, but the results this time were remarkably different." She sighed deeply, closing her eyes in remembrance, not allowing herself to forget even a single grotesque detail. "Pep-But's assessment that her mind wasn't ready for the amulet proved wholly correct, and under its influence it shattered her psyche into eight core components. Essentially, it took Marceline's mind, divided it into eight unequal reflections of different aspects of her personality, and separated them into entirely unique individuals with their own names, thoughts, motives, strengths, and weaknesses."
"'Unequal reflections?'" He raised an eyebrow and she allowed her own morose nod. She didn't want to remember. She had to.
"Those aspects of her personality that were strongest were, in turn, the strongest of the eight. They each thought of themselves as individuals while recognizing they were at one point one whole being."
That caused him to frown. "So the amulet drew out her vulnerabilities, as well as those aspects of herself that are positive and beneficial in nature, personified them, and chose to divide them to such an extreme…," He muttered. "Did they say what they were? Did they know what they represented?"
Her grimace spoke volumes. "Yes, they were very much aware. The first one we met was named Unifier. Before meeting her we found an obelisk that warned we should be wary of her, but-"
"What's an obelisk?"
A pin drop could be heard from somewhere across the Citadel. Exactly where was anyone's guess. Really, it was the thought that counted.
"...You're kidding," Finn spoke, realizing all too late that he had been saying that a lot lately. "Marce said you're like a million years old, but you don't know what an obelisk is?"
The demon only shrugged, "Hey, I don't keep up with the craziness of what happens on the surface. I don't even get to visit unless someone summons me."
Jake buried his face in his paws at the absurdity of it all. "It's a stone pillar that's typically used as a monument or landmark."
"Hah! You crazy kids and your new lingo."
The princess took a steadying breath, trying to ignore what distinctly sounded like Rechte snickering from the back of her mind. "As I was saying. We first met with the Unifier, who revealed to us that we could only bring Marceline home as one whole person if the others were killed and she alone absorbed their portion of her mind. Until only one Marceline remained they would be stuck in the wasteland and unable to return."
Now Hunson's amusement turned to concern. "Wasteland?"
Finn nodded. "It was jacked up, Hunson. Her mind was literally a wasteland. It looked like it did right after the Great Mushroom War. Like, ruined cities, polluted water, just… messed up. We found Unifier living in what looked like her Cave house in Ooo, but everything was all wrong. Like the sky was covered in dust, and it smelled like rust all the time. And there were monsters and-"
Jake put his paw on his brother's arm. He had grown tense, his speech increasing in speed as he remembered the reality of how his ladybro(s) had survived until they found her. Jake didn't need two people to spiral on his watch. "Chill, bro. One thing at a time." Deciding that it was his turn to pick up the tale, "so at first Unifier doesn't wanna help us, but we managed to convince her otherwise, 'cause we're awesome. Later we met Navigator, who was like Marce's moral compass and sense of sentiment. She was actually really tough and wanted to come home. Tried to protect us. Oh, and we met Arbitrator, who was…" He stopped. Paused. Blinked. Turned to Finn. "Hey, did we ever figure out what Arbitrator actually was?"
Finn's pained expression was answer enough. First we didn't know how her name, now we don't even know- "Nah, bro. Everyone just called her the one shred of goodness Marce had, but never actually said what she was." Maybe if Marce remembers she'll tell us. 'Cause it's messed up that we never-
"In addition, we also met Rechte and Linke, who were sort of like twins that reflected Marceline's senses of reason and instinct respectively," Bonnibel continued. "Their strength was always in negative correlation to one another. Like Arbitrator and Navigator Rechte also wanted to go home, but Linke resisted the idea. But all of their power combined paled before the three strongest."
Hunson crossed his arms, clearly deep into what he was being described. "So they not only had names, but their names reflected their purpose. These three… what did they represent?"
At first the trio were silent, but when both Finn and Jake began their respective answers Bonnibel raised her hand, causing them to fall silent. It needs to be me. "The first was Tyrant. She was Marceline's sense of loyalty. And…" Say it, Bubblegum. Say it. "...Her sense of self-deprecation." Ugly to hear out loud, isn't it? "The second was Usurper, her sense of rage and jealousy. The last was her despair personified." Say it! "...Who named herself Lady Evil. And dressed as if she were the ruler of the Nightosphere."
Jake shuddered. "She was the most messed up of all of 'em."
Finn glared at his brother. "Jake!"
But the damage was done and Hunson sighed deeply, eyes closing. "Her dominant personality traits as you saw them are loyalty, self-loathing, jealousy, anger, and despair." It was a statement, not a question, and his gaze turned to the wound in the wall. "I knew Marceline had suffered a lot in growing up the way she did, but I didn't imagine that those positive traits I always saw would be dwarfed by such negativity." He paused, staring deeply into the hole in the wall. "What else happened in there?"
Bonnibel sighed, accepting when Finn placed his arm reassuringly on her shoulder. "Those three strongest aspects of herself hated one another. Not all of her hated herself, but everyone was violent, and violence was how they communicated. Even the ones allied with one another." She shook her head at the flood of memories, of the visions of her lover dying again and again, of the feelings of anger and betrayal and how lost and scared she had been. "Because the most powerful aspects of her wanted to come back to Ooo alone and without the others we barely made it home with her intact, which is why I imagine she's having a difficult readjustment. Most of Ooo was corrupted or tainted in some form, and she had grown to see those aspects of herself as different individuals entirely." If she didn't know herself before this certainly complicates matters. "Further… when we finally brought her home you indicated that we were under for an hour, if more then barely, but to us we were there for at least a week. Marceline herself indicated that she had been trapped for perhaps a hundred years before we found her, and by then several pieces of herself had become accustomed to her mindscape as her new home. They didn't want to return to Ooo, and while her initial reintroduction was successful the world is very different than how she remembers it."
Now she was hesitating, an inaction Hunson readily picked up on. As made evident by his turning away from the wall to fix her with a stern stare, not quite a glare, but quite expectant. Say it, Bubblegum. Admit what you did. "But… that may not be the worst part. When my VR system is in operation someone enters a mindscape with whatever is on their person at the time. Finn, for example, brought supplies to help us navigate an unknown terrain. I… brought a silver dagger. A dagger Marceline knew I had made, one I promised to destroy centuries ago. I didn't, and within her mind I used it against the Usurper."
The demon nodded absently, expression unreadable. So very unlike Marceline's version of disappointment. "So she came to try using the amulet because you wanted her to, then you pulled a silver weapon on my still-half-vampire daughter. Where is it now?"
Finn jumped in immediately, hand still on her shoulder. Not that either noticed. "She destroyed it. I watched her do it. And she was willing to do anything to bring Marceline home, Hunson. She was willing to give up her kingdom. She's a different person. Like… in a good way!" He was struck with what was possibly his most brilliant idea ever, or at least he would later claim. "Tell him about the Cosmic Owl!"
She really, really didn't want to, almost said as much, almost didn't, but a memory rang through her mind,
You know, the cosmic entity dad has on speed dial in his office?
It was time to see if the Navigator was being facetious or- "While we were entrenched in our task of returning Marceline home I was given a Cosmic Owl dream." Those seemed to be the magic words, because she now had the undivided attention of the Lord of Evil himself. Not a position most individuals would voluntarily find themselves in, and yet-
"What did he show you?"
The question was curious, but there was an undercurrent of skepticism. Not that she blamed him; she herself was the recipient and she still didn't believe it happened. "The dream indicated three important things. The first was that Marceline and I were married. Whether or not this means the events I'm here to rectify took place or not I cannot say, but the dream made that much abundantly clear. The second is that Marceline had willingly taken up the mantle as Lady Evil. She seemed to be flourishing under the title, and in accordance with our marriage it made both the Nightosphere and the Candy Kingdom allied. Finally… it was established that the Lich had returned."
At first he said nothing, expression blank, something Jake had once called a 'poker face'. Not a trait Marceline had inherited, and Bonnibel was glad for it. It was unsettling. "So the Cosmic Owl has prophesied that Marceline will take over the family business, enjoy it, unite the Nightosphere with a surface world kingdom, and that the Lich will escape his prison of flesh and bone."
She nodded, successfully stemming the tide of memories that flowed from her recollection of the dream. Of how in love they still were. How she had accomplished her goal of uniting Ooo. How the half-demon had formally declared the Candy Kingdom her home. How they were a family for all of Ooo to see, with no shame, no deception, nothing to hide.
She wanted that. So much it ached.
"That's why I'm here." When he raised an eyebrow in what Bubblegum hoped was skepticism and not mockery she cleared her throat to regain some semblance of composure. "When we first came here, when I demanded she try to take over your position, I had a lot of misconceptions about both Marceline and myself. Throughout the course of our adventure I came to realize that the problem lay not with her, but with myself. I was cruel, demanding, and, at times, abusive. I tried to control her and I told myself I did so out of love. Perhaps in the beginning I had some semblance of good intentions, but somewhere along the way it turned into self-serving behavior. I see now that how I treated her is incompatible with any claim that I must love her, and I admit that I initially came here to use her. I was thoughtless, manipulative, and wrong. I exploited her. Now, more than anything, I want her to heal, to be healthy and happy once more. She is my priority, and however long it takes to rectify this I will do so."
The demon fixed the young immortal with a hard stare, silently turning her declaration over in his mind. Without losing the expression he turned back to the damaged wall. "People can change, Bonnibel. The biggest catalyst of this is profound loss. Pain is a great teacher because it shows us what's important. It gives us clarity. Mortals, immortals, comic beings… it doesn't matter. And when they change dramatically even their souls alter to reflect the difference. If something moves, if it talks or thinks, it has a soul. And souls can be weighed and judged. Has Marceline ever tasted your soul?" At that he sounded curious, as if it had never once occurred to him before that moment that his flesh and blood may actually use that ability. As if she forgot about it.
Jake shuddered at the very question, but Bonnibel remained unphased. "Yes, once. When we were much younger."
He nodded, turning to her. "You used my daughter for material gain, and now you're here to make amends. I know her soul chose you as its mate, so as much as I'm not a big fan of it I won't forbid you from trying."
Finn blinked, stunned. This is… too simple. He's up to something. "Soul choosing is that big a deal?"
Hunson tapped his desk in thought, and though he answered Finn he didn't turn from Bonnibel. "Oh yes. There's no changing a soul's decision once it's chosen a mate. Ideally, her soul would have chosen another demon, but we have no control over it and her's didn't. So it's up to her now to decide how to handle this."
"...Cause it would just hurt her more to interfere," Finn mumbled. Man, poor Marce.
"If you'd like to visit her," he turned away now from the princess, bringing the mere mortals into the conversation, "you're welcome to."
That at least lifted the boy's spirits. "How is she doing anyway?"
To his dismay the demon pointed towards the damaged wall. "She's been having a few… issues. It's been gradually improving, but I would definitely proceed with caution." He nodded sagely. Sagely, and with an odd, wry humor.
So this is where she inherited it from. Finn looked away from the wall, returning to the Lord of Evil. "Thanks, Hunson. Do we have your permission to visit Marceline?"
Of all things his smile was wanton. "You're her friends. She has a rule about me not interfering in her life. You know where her room is."
Taking that as all the permission she needed Bonnibel bowed her head respectfully, rising gracefully as she plucked her bag off of the floor. "Thank you. We'll go see her now." After pushing in her chair - small displays of respect were paramount when dealing with foreign dignitaries - the young scientist strode from the room, trusting her gallant champions to follow, each with their own preoccupations, their own driving forces. Finn, who was already planning ways to coax Marceline back to the surface with the promises of pranks, video games, and merriment. Jake, who was wondering what demons ate and how long before 'home' would truly be home once more. And Bonnibel, who knew she was about to learn how heavy her heart weighed.
As they made their way down the brief hallway neither saw the older demon's wanton smile turn melancholy, or him lift the framed picture from the desk. Nor did they see the picture itself, an old but immaculate photograph of the Lord of Evil himself with a young female human with chestnut skin and brown hair, arms wrapped around one another, the human laughing as the demon tried to figure out how those primitive human cameras worked.
No, no one saw Hunson Abadeer reminisce about his own lost mate, remember the way it felt to hold her, how her voice sounded, how pure her soul was, because they were too occupied with strategizing how they would save his daughter. And no one asked how, if Marceline's dominant mental traits were so toxic, was she herself at worst a neutral chaotic individual. But it was his mate's soul - or at least it's influence - that lived on inside of his child, that acted as a balance to his own vile nature. He would take time now to compose himself before picking up the phone and calling his old friend to confirm the candy golem's story because one day, he knew, if the prophecy was true and his child could only heal this balance would cement, and she would become more powerful than he ever was.
But neither Finn, Jake, nor Bonnibel knew any of this because they did not ask. Instead, they made their way down the hall, Bonnibel's stride alternating between swift and excited and slow and reluctant. When she wasn't looking Finn and Jake exchanged a knowing look. This wasn't the Bonnibel they were used to, and though they approved of her learning to put aside her hubris Finn especially knew that emotional development was an often painful procedure.
"Hey, why'd Hunson say that he'd prefer Marce pick another demon for smoochin'?"
A procedure Jake wasn't helping. "Because demons only select one mate, but nothing guarantees that the one they choose will choose them back. They could find someone completes them, but they don't complete the object of their affection."
"So like… I don't get it. They're the same person?"
"As is my understanding." Silence befell the group. Well, except for the ever-presence of Bonnibel's inner-beratement But then there's a lot about her demon half I don't kn-
"It's just… it's weird."
That snapped her out of it. "What's weird, Finn?"
"I dunno," he started. Paused. "Her demon side has never really mattered before. It's just… you know. Why now?"
"Cosmic Owl, dude," Jake whispered, eyes wide.
Bonnibel flushed deeply at the sudden reminder of the Cosmic Owl and the dream he had shown her. Mercifully, her gallant champions had no time to comment or even notice because they had reached their destination, and before them stood a large black door, so like the others. Well, except for the large 'KEEP OUT' poster tacked to it. Finn frowned. "Should we knock? I mean, it says to keep out."
Jake groaned. "Man, we've been over this. It's a sign not a cop."
"Yeah, but like… it's Marce."
"So? She's all about hasslin' cops. If anything she'd probably be proud of us!"
"I don't think it works that way."
"See, that's the problem with your generation. When I was your age we listened to our elders!"
"Bro, you can't just-"
It was the music that stopped the banter. The soft strum of a bass, a tune the princess recognized from their centuries of friendship, even if there was no singing to accompany it. She had known logically that her vampire was in there, that they were separated only by a door. But now the situation had become even more real, with the moment of reckoning at hand. It was time to shift the balance of power, for Marceline to become the one in charge for possibly the first time in their relationship. But for all of her nervousness the princess was sure she would be successful, that she would find some way to salvage their bond. Because she was nothing if not stubborn. And egotistical. And frighteningly clever. And it was time to put all of those previously toxic traits to work, to heal rather than destroy.
Eyes closed, jaw set, breath held, and now officially more than a little anxious, Bonnibel Bubblegum knocked on the door.
Aw, come on. You didn't think Marceline and Finn were the only ones coming out of Rehearsal mentally scarred, did you?
Unrelated, but thank you all so much for your warm welcome back to writing. It sincerely means a lot to me, so I decided to give this chapter an extra push.