Real talk: So. There were 26 chapters in Rehearsal. This is the 13th chapter of Opening Act. Of the 39 chapters of Musicology thus far this was the single most challenging chapter to right, and I really, really hope you like it.

To make a long story short, because we all know I'm a stickler for detail and borderline-obsessed with canon compliance I needed to make sure of two things: That everything I write about the Nightosphere AND the timeline that makes up Adventure Time makes sense, and that everything I write builds to not just Opening Act, but its (probable) sequel. To that end... I rewatched every Adventure Time. And read every comic. And the supplemental materials. I loved it, but my brain hurts. This is one of the most important chapters not just for OA, but of Musicology as a whole, so I really hope it's at the same standards as the rest of the story, because I'm not going to lie, this was immensely challenging.

Last time I'm going to plug my tumblr, CountingWithTurkeys. As you may know already there's a contest going on right now. To enter all you need to do is vote in the poll regarding Symphony Universe's future, and once the contest concludes a winner will get a request fic! All of the details are in the poll, and I'd be really happy if you'd all vote, because right now the poll is dead even and that gives me anxiety.

The contest will officially end October 11th at 11pm EST, exactly 2 weeks from now. This is to give everyone enough time to see this chapter and read through it, since I know my work can be long.

Content Warnings:

Mood swings

Important decisions

History lesson

So many reveals

Nightosphere lore, part 1

"Before me there was nothing, and before there was nothing there were monsters."

Story time had begun as Marceline had always begun story time when she was a child, in the good old days when she both lived with Simon and was alive enough to enjoy it, ignorant of the destiny woven into her soul. She would lay on her belly, listening attentively, imagination running wild. Except this time she wasn't a child, nor was she filled with wonder or amazement for the world around her, all too-aware that this story was less a tale of whimsy and more of a history lesson long coming. For that matter she wasn't a small girl either, but rather a great bat, having been unable to control her growing aggression except by taking the Usurper's favored form. She was listening attentively certainly, and her imagination was already beginning to run wild, but while Simon always filled her head with delight there was nothing her father could tell her now that would ever bring her joy. Really, it was just a matter of how angry she would end up being and what exactly she would do with that rage. Who would get maimed or killed in the process. If she would even care when all was said and done.

In contrast, Bonnibel never really got a 'story time' as a child. Sure, she read herself stories, and she had a dirty secret of reading an honest to goodness novel at times when she was truly ill, but no 'story time' in the sense of something make-believe read to her to fill her head with glee so that she may appreciate the brief suspension of disbelief that was the inherent ability of youth. On the contrary, this was very real, her mate was very agitated, and the princess had seen fit to nestle herself against the bat, stroking the thick, plush fur as she leaned against it, a comfort behavior for both women, something reassuring despite its twisted nature. It was obvious to her that Marceline was trying very hard to keep it together, that the influence of the Nightosphere was encouraging her fury, so Bonnibel allowed her hand to trail higher every so often to stroke her soft ear and down her neck. In the normal Ooo these would be highly intimate gestures at best, an assertion of authority at worse. Now? Now they were a subtle reminder to the vampire that whether she wanted to do this alone now was inconsequential: Bonnibel was here to support her, and when the dust settled she would appreciate that truth. By the fact that Marceline was tolerating the gentle strokes, allowing them to happen even, seemed to add credence. Whereas the queen was almost glaring at her father for reasons unknown Bonnibel only watched intently. After all, despite the lamentable circumstances how often did one get to hear tales of how the universe began from a being of incomprehensible age?

Hunson Abadeer was no fool. He could literally sense his daughter's fury crackling in the timeless atmosphere of his home, but he didn't blame her for it. How could he blame her for his own failure as a parent? If she had spent more time in the Nightosphere as a child maybe she would have grown accustomed to its influence and gradually become inoculated against it, or even learned to use it as a source of power, just as he had. Now, though, after everything, it was no surprise that Marceline was rebelling so hard against both her homeworld and, by extension, him. And it was no surprise that this confliction was beginning to exasperate all of her mental trauma, manifesting it physically just as his chaos amulet had mutilated her neck. And yet… as much as Hunson still distrusted the candy golem he couldn't deny the obvious calming effect she had on his only child, and despite his dislike for her he was grateful for it. Ideally, he and Marceline would have had this talk centuries ago, alone, where she could have the time and space to process the information in a safe and supportive environment. Ideally he wouldn't be telling Bonnibel any of this at all - that would be Marceline's decision - but if her presence was vital to his daughter's own than so be it. And so he watched them, a look of pity expertly hidden behind a facade of calm collectiveness.

"It may be hard to believe, but this was even before my time. GOLB, Orgalorg, a few other guys… they were around before there was nothing. They all had different ideas for how 'reality'" - emphasized with finger quotes, of course - "should be interpreted. It's… really awkward to explain, but it's a lot like fighting over how a project should be completed. Until everyone is on the same page it's just a pile of plop, without any purpose or function. Eventually these guys reached an agreement on what reality should be, and that agreement itself became what's called the multiverse, which is… well, it's every dimension of every world in one fun-sized package. You can't see multiple universes unless you know what you're looking for, even those that are filled with life. Some are hidden by design, never meant to be stumbled across." Especially this one.

"That makes no sense," the bat muttered, only stilled when the hand rubbed her soft ear. It was a given that none of this would make any sense - this was brainlord territory as far as Marceline was concerned - but her grunt was more of an expression of frustration, rather than misunderstanding in of itself.

Bonnibel raised an eyebrow, waiting for the bat to settle. "They, these monsters… thought about the multiverse and all that is held within, and then it just… was?"

Hunson nodded, glad that at least one of them was taking this conversation seriously. Even if it was the wrong one. "Pretty much. The multiverse and everything in the multiverse exists because all of those dimensions have things in them to think about how they exist. In fact, everything alive or undead thinks about it all the time, whether they know it or not. Even the three of us right now! They think about themselves, their world, their reality… what makes them them, and because everyone has to exist together certain traits of dimensions are just agreed upon. Think of it like a shared reality. Things exist the way we do because… well, we agree they do."

"Reality as perception." Quantum physics in the most strange of applications.

He nodded again. "It's also what makes reality itself such a fragile concept, and why such niceties as the comet and prophecy can exist. It only takes one…" He stopped abruptly and sighed, as if struck with the memory of something very unpleasant. "We'll… come back to that. Anyway, it got pretty weird in the beginning, but the basic premise is that because the multiverse exists the way it does only due to everyone agrees reality exists everything is involved in maintaining it, whether they want to be or not. We call this specific consciousness a 'soul'. That's why everything sapient, even GOLB, the Lich, and everything else I imagine you both have met have souls."

"Which you eat," Marceline all but spat.

His smile was sad. "We'll get to that, little monster, I promise." A soft, sarcastic 'hooray' but one knowing look from Bonnibel turned it into a disgruntled grumble.

"Calm down, Marcy," she soothed. "We won't leave until all of our questions have been answered to both of our satisfactions, I promise." When there were no further arguments Bonnibel turned back to her mate's father. "So where did these monsters come from?"

His attention returned to Bonnibel and her curious tone. Even before meeting the immortal in person he had been told a great deal about her, some of it with pride swelling in Marceline's voice, some of it in hushed tones as if she could hear through dimensional gateways. He remembered then, how the candy golem styled herself a scientist, perhaps the greatest disbeliever of magic of all realities. Yes, that'll do for a good opening. "I don't think anyone remembers, maybe not even the monsters themselves. We don't really talk a lot." The joke fell flat. Anyway. "No one knows how many universes there are, just that many are connected, though in different ways. Those of us old enough to remember all this starting called them bridges. Some are portals, or objects that can teleport a user, or maybe just their consciousness or soul itself. There are even select individuals who can tear the fabric of one reality into another, though they would need to be equally connected to both and have the natural talent. It helps if a dimension itself doesn't have a lot of strict laws. While not a rule for every reality, Ooo's like that. Very flexible and filled with potential!"

Marceline tensed, wondering if her father was specifically referring to her as he so casually mentioned tearing space-time apart. There was no way to call him on it though, no way at all without blowing her secret open. There's no way he knows. He'd never be this chill about it if he did. Dude's a-

"What do you mean by 'strict laws'?"

While Hunson considered the best way to phrase this to the woman who considered her intellect unparalleled Marceline shot her a silent thanks for redirecting the conversation. Just in case. "Well, remember how I said that reality exists because we all say it does?" Rhetorical, an ice breaker. "Reality, especially individual universes, change flavor depending on the individuals residing in it. If a universe radically changes for whatever reason-" such as, say, an apocalypse "-its laws of reality change as well." He suddenly chuckled, but it was so bitter and full of remorse that not even Marceline growled at the noise. "Ooo is a very different place from when I met your mother, little monster. The human apocalypse really shook up the laws of reality. It allowed a certain… elasticity into the natural order of things, allowed things to happen that would otherwise be really improbable. There weren't candy people or magic dogs like your cool friend before then, and now the laws that govern Ooo's reality are so much more flexible than before the war. When the laws changed new beings could take the place of old ones."

"Forgive me… but what happened between the time you came into being and Ooo as we know it now? I feel as though there may be a few years missing." In fact, by Bonnibel's math, that left approximately 5 or so billion years unaccounted for. Not to split hairs, of course.

"After the multiverse became… well, the multiverse a bunch of beings that mostly weren't all monsters got together and we all said 'there needs to be some ground rules in order to make sure the multiverse keeps existing'. Self-preservation on an interdimensional scale. In your dimension we're called Cosmic Beings, and we serve purposes to keep the multiverse linked. Death, a very nice pickler named Prismo-"

"The feathered dillweed." There was ice in the bat's voice so thick not even the warmth of Bonnibel's touch could thaw it.

Hunson's look was apologetic. "Yeah. The Cosmic Owl as well."

In a preemptive strike, knowing exactly how the vampire felt about the Cosmic Owl, Bonnibel snuggled closer to Marceline, silently discouraging her from leaving her spot by enticing her with something more self-gratifying than rage. If she was pressed against her the vampire wouldn't be able to attack her father at the implication that the humans she had literally died for were merely being 'replaced.' "If a dimension undergoes radical change its rules change. Has that ever happened in the Nightosphere? I notice time doesn't seem to flow, nor does anything else appear to change."

He grimaced at some unpleasant memory. "I'll… come back to that." Marceline snorted, but said nothing. "Marceline, it's important you know about this in order to unders-"

"Just go, dad."

He could understand her irritation, but as he watched his daughter's mate soothe her once more he began to have second thoughts about his previous desire to have this conversation one-on-one. Perhaps the princess's presence was more beneficial than he initially anticipated. It was, in fact, she he focused on next. "Marceline tells me you don't believe in magic, but you yourself are directly involved in these realities shifts, aren't you?" Was that an accusation? Or just curiosity?

Either way, she raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "And I suppose you're going to tell me I'm wrong in my assessment?"

He laughed, an actual laugh. "Well, not necessarily. It all depends on how you think about it. Magic, science… when I was your age they were one in the same. I said that the rules of a reality warp when the reality itself warps, but it still has rules. I think humans called them 'physics' and thought everything that happens in reality can be explained by knowing how those laws work."

Bonnibel nodded knowingly, with just a bit of arrogance in her voice. Right where it belonged. "Well, yes. Everything possible can be explained with science. Magic is just what someone calls something when they don't know the science to explain it. It's reductionist and counterproductive."

Marceline rolled her eyes, but said nothing. She had heard the same thing repeated over and over for hundreds of years. It was nice to see some positive things about Bonnibel's disposition never changed. Something about it, something about that know-it-all attitude just now, was almost reassuring. It was a subtle sign that the younger woman was holding it together despite the Nightosphere's aura, it was a security blanket that at least something was normal. It was nice. "Calm down, brainlord," she mumbled, not without affection. The princess cleared her throat but settled, once more allowing Hunson to continue.

Hunson shook his head at the exchange. Yes, the princess's presence was definitely have a positive effect on his child. "Reality is made of a consensus, but it's also made of individuals. Some individuals possess the ability to change the structure and content of reality on a very small scale. This is what's known as 'magic'. So yes, you're right in that it has a strong relation to your natural laws, but those individuals exist that can bend reality to the point they almost break them, such as your friend dog friend who stretches. Or the four elementals who have persevered across the cosmos for billions of years, reincarnating again and again." There was a knowing look in his eyes that wasn't quite an accusation, but knowing all the same.

"And demons."

There it was, and Hunson turned to his daughter, smiling apologetically. He already knew where this was going, and he was already sorry for what was about to happen. "High demons are capable of reality bending, but in order to use what mortals call 'magic' you need to have the natural inclination towards it, a detachment from reality, and a… drive. A painful one."

Marceline's claws dug into the ground and Bonnibel moved her hand to sit atop one. "Why a painful one?"

Hunson rubbed the back of his neck. "It's a good motivator. We're a lot more willing to break the rules and try new things when we're in pain or anguish. You don't rock the boat when you're happy with it. Demons by default have all three of those criteria, though everyone's different." And now the first blow, as he turned to meet his daughter's eyes. "With my blood in you you already have the natural disposition to bend reality, and being a hybrid life belonging to two different dimensions gives you a detachment from both. And… well, there's no nice way to talk about-"

Her eye twitched. "Yeah. The apocalypse. Immortality. All that good stuff I went through 'cause you weren't there and Simon lost his mind. I get it."

"You've suffered-"

"I get it!"

Now even Bonnibel was offering the demon an apologetic look. He wasn't looking at her though. "Marceline… you've got a lot of heavy burdens on your shoulders. Our curse alone-"

The piqued the princess's interest, and her apology was immediately forgotten. "Curse?"

"DAD!," Marceline snarled.

But Hunson didn't heed the danger in that near-roar, too flabberghasted by the combination of his daughter's vitriol and Bonnibel's confusion. "You didn't tell her?" That was genuinely surprising; even he had seen fit to tell his mate when their relationship first became serious. How long had the two women been seriously involved? More than long enough to warrant this disclaimer.

Now Bonnibel was no longer confused. She was alarmed. "Tell me what, Marcy?"

The question was asked with the utmost caution, but even as Marceline answered she continued to stare down her father. "Later," she growled.

It would have to be good enough. Now was not the mental state to argue, that much was obvious to them both. Besides- "And… well, I suppose with all that in mind now comes the Nightosphere. And myself." With a sigh Hunson walked to his desk, taking his chair away so that he may sit before the two royals. They would both need to hear this, and he would need to explain it, not as the Lord of Evil, but as Marceline's father. "The first thing you need to know, Bonnibel… is that I didn't create the Nightosphere."

"You… didn't?" That was a revelation if there ever was one, and Bonnibel tried to eye Marceline from her peripheral, just to see her reaction. Instead she found the vampire still intently watching her father. There was a protective glint there, one the princess had not seen since Navigator had almost challenged Lady Evil in her own office, but no look of shock like her own. What to make of that?

He shook his head at some bitter memory. "No, it was already here when I came into existence, but that's a really long and boring story. When I came into being the Nightosphere was already here and already had a few thousand demons, but it was getting out of control. Some demons had figured out how to break into other worlds and were… well, demons enjoy a reputation for murder and immorality for a reason. I quickly discovered how much stronger I was and took it over from the demons trying to run this place, but I knew there was always the possibility that someone even stronger could come and beat me up for the Nightosphere, so… well, I created this." He tapped the amulet at the base of his tie. Marceline turned away, visibly disgusted, though whether it was at the sight of the chaos amulet or Hunson's story was anyone's guess. Both were equally valid reactions. "I bound the amulet to myself so that no one else would ever be able to even wear it, let alone use it. It took a lot of time and effort but I got the Nightosphere under control to what it is today. No one leaves the Nightosphere and all of the chaos is contained so that the Nightosphere feeds itself with all the pain and confusion. But…" He exhaled forcefully, watching Marceline who, in turn was watching the wall. The wall he framed. "I saw the damage my demons could cause. Their descendents are weaker but could still wreck entire worlds up without someone to control them. I knew I could, and I was immortal, but I could still be killed…"

"...You made yourself Deathless to keep everything static." Bonnibel had to admit, she was impressed. Both with the decision and his ability to actually conspire to make it happen.

"Well…" He rubbed the back of his neck in nervousness once more, a trait Bonnibel recognized as living on in Marceline. "The one who wears the amulet is Deathless. But as you can see, I run a strict dimension. Time doesn't even change. Nothing changes. No one leaves and lives." Finally, he looked to Bonnibel and Bonnibel alone. She had seen that look before, had seen it from other dignitaries desperate to tell her something they could not freely say in present company. Perhaps if she had missed it the course of events following the duo's conversation with Hunson would have ended differently. Perhaps, had Bonnibel remained ignorant, the minute details would never have formed together into something not unlike razor wire. But she caught it, even if she did not yet understand the gravity of the message. "The Nightosphere needs a Lord to keep things the way they are, and being Deathless assures that whoever wears it can protect the other dimensions, potentially forever. The catch though, is that the amulet can only be bound to someone from my bloodline."

Bonnibel's blood ran cold as she caught the implication in Hunson's words, what he was silently emphasizing. When the man fell silent she turned to Marceline, who turned away. Somehow that was even worse than her rage. "...Only you and your father can control the Nightosphere. If you took over as Lady Evil, it's not that you would be invincible... it's that you'd never be allowed to die."

Marceline didn't look at her, but the waver in her voice was more than enough to break Bonnibel's heart. The stab of guilt didn't help either as she began to realize a whole new layer the enormity of her betrayal, of her literally trying to force the amulet down her lover's throat in a sadistic effort to force her to become the thing Bonnibel had wanted her to be. "Like I said, Bon. Greatest fear is eternity without you." Her talons scraped against the floor and she watched them form. When a pink hand settled over her claw the talons dug deeper and her jaw set.

Bonnibel only squeezed harder, but when that failed to elicit any further response she turned back to the other demon staring at the floor. "What is the Nightosphere that it would require you to forego Death?"

Hunson exhaled, shifting his view away from the floor and to his daughter's back. Somehow the nature of the Nightosphere itself was a pleasant conversation compared to the current one. Besides, as distasteful as it may be… She may be more understanding. Irony at its finest. "In order for the multiverse to exist… it needs people to think about it. Souls. Souls can't be destroyed, but they can be converted to different things or places."

"Matter."

He shrugged, but not in disagreement. If physics made it more palatable to her than, well, there were certainly less apt analogies he had heard before. "Nothing changes in the Nightosphere, so it's always at an equilibrium. Everytime a demon dies…," he trailed off briefly, deliberately watching his daughter's back awkwardly before returning to the topic at hand, "at least one new one takes its place. Usually more, depending on the circumstances. There's never a shortage of demons around here."

"How?" Marceline's voice echoed strangely across the room, despite, or perhaps because of, her refusal to face either member of her family. "How many of those buttnuggets do I have to-"

Ah, yes. I had forgotten about that feud. He would never begrudge her her protective instinct. If his demons were going to pick a fight he was proud that she was ending it so decisively. "Death and I have a lot of conference calls." When she glared at him over her shoulder he counted it as an improvement to her disposition. "How much do you know about Death, little monster?" Her grunt indicated either that she didn't know or didn't care. "Dead World is pretty spacious, with 50 levels. He doesn't really tell me about his ranking system, but he likes to keep everyone organized." Hunson shrugged. "I don't really get it, but it makes him happy. When a sentient being dies they usually go to him by default, but he's pretty picky if you can believe it. If he doesn't really like someone he gives them to me."

"He must not like many people."

Hunson chuckled. She wasn't wrong. "Pretty true, I guess, or he and I would have… well, that's a different conversation. More than enough souls for everyone!," he chirped. "Those who are truly despicable are wrapped up for me and they stay here until I say they can leave." If I say they can leave. His smile was becoming almost disturbing.

So this is where Marcy gets it from. "And… do they have a purpose here, except to suffer?"

"Well, mostly to suffer. Their suffering fuels the Nightosphere and it's fun, too!"

Yes, this is definitely where she gets it from. "And-"

"Is that where mom is."

It was a quiet whisper, full of dread, and Bonnibel's good mood evaporated, taking Hunson's with it. "Marceline…" He began, softly.

"Dead World. Is that-"

"Marceline," he started carefully. He already knew where this was going. "You can't go there."

Bad move. Very incorrect thing to say. Absolutely worst idea he'd had in the past month at least, and the proof was in how Marceline's fur flared, her fangs bared, and she began to shift into something much, much worse than a giant bat. "Who the flip-"

"Marceline…" This time it was another voice beginning carefully, a voice which drew the animosity from Hunson and putting it squarely on Bonnibel's shoulders. It was alright, though. She was used to it. "I think he means practically," she eased gently. "As in only select individuals can go there. Correct?" The princess turned to Hunson over her shoulder, her look imploring him to agree. For her to be right.

Small miracles, the impossibly old demon nodded. Relieved. "She's right, Marceline. You can't access the Dead World unless you're deceased."

"You said it yourself," Marceline spat. "I'm not even alive."

"True… but you're not Truly Dead either. You're Undead, animate with a soul that's still perceiving-"

That didn't seem to deter her or soothe her rage for some strange reason. "Then I'll find him-"

"Marceline, please understand-," Hunson tried softly.

And it just got worse. Now the bat shot up but Bonnibel was right in front of her, interrupting her line of sight. As hard as the vampire stared she just couldn't stare through her mate. She was just too pink. "Bonnie-"

Two soft hands cupped her face, demanding garnet eyes meet her own. "I can only imagine how much it hurts, but for now that isn't what we're here to do. I know you miss and love your mother, but for now…" She sighed, not sure how to phrase this without sounding like the monster she was trying so hard not to be. "Perhaps… we can persuade Death later, but we're here for you right now, remember?" Obviously, she didn't, and her slitted eyes showed it. Bonnibel softened her tone further because she knew that look, knew that the ebb and flow of her mood swings was always mental background music, and she was being seduced with the melody of rage. Not now. Not when we're so close. Not when she could see the tears in those garnet eyes. It didn't matter if they were from rage or sorrow, it was pain regardless. "Shh… look at me, okay?"

"Bonnie…" As she breathed her name Marceline shifted back into her normal form. Her cool hand reached up to cover her princess's. "I could…"

"Maybe," Bonnibel agreed, though even she wasn't quite sure what it was she was agreeing to. "Right now, though, I think it's more important that we solve the mystery of your heritage. We can decide everything from there. I know this is a lot for you, because it certainly is for me. Just… can you trust me?"

Could she? ...Yes. As if she'd ever give herself a choice in the matter. She growled softly and turned back to her father, glaring at his incredulous look. "What?" He raised an eyebrow, the look gradually fading into something strange, almost morose. "What?!"

"It's just so strange seeing you so grown up, little monster." It was almost wistful, if the man were capable of such a thing. "Your mother… she really would be proud of you. You have the best parts of her living in you. My temper," he chortled, "but her passion and dr-"

"I don't want to talk about mom! You don't get to tell me where she is, that I can't go there, then act like it's all fine! It's not fine, dad! None of this is fine! I'm messed up, nothing is okay, and you don't get to talk about mom!" And there was that aforementioned temper, but there was also something much more intriguing; a small orange flame being absently formed in the demon's left hand, growing as Marceline turned to glare at her father in full force. It threatened to engulf her entire hand, the orange shimmering into something lighter as the vampire pulled away from the candy golem. Bonnibel let herself be gently pushed away, too stunned by too many emotions; shock that Phoebe had been entirely accurate, Marceline really could produce a white flame; queasiness at the deja vu of watching the musician's arm engulf in flames not unlike Lady Evil's; heartache at the sight of the surely unintentional pain Hunson had inflicted; and the full knowledge that if the real Marceline's white flame was anything like the embodiment of despair's it could very well kill the younger woman if the vampire were careless.

Hunson, however, had an entirely different reaction: he looked proud. Stunned, but proud all the same. In retrospect, perhaps this hadn't been the best of times to turn nostalgic, what with the uncontrollable and severe mood swings, tense atmosphere, and heavy conversation, but watching Marceline with Bonnibel, watching his child mimic his own body language and furor while watching the scientist in her true capacity as a mate, not just as an extant individual, had caused him to temporarily dismiss what a terrible judgment call he was making. Now, though, he had a different situation to contend with, and that was his daughter's arm being on fire. With well-repressed wonder the demon stood and strode to meet the half-demon in the middle of the room. "Easy, Marceline…"

"I-" It wasn't a request, and in one swift - albeit not unkind - gesture his right hand came up to rest over the burning arm, extinguishing the flame. Whatever Marceline had been expecting that wasn't it, and it successfully disrupting her train of thought. "What…?"

"There we go!" The happy tone had returned. Suspiciously so.

"What the flip, dad?!"

Ah, yes, there it was. Teenage indignation. Somehow an improvement. "Sorry, little monster. You can't burn me down!" He chuckled as if this were some clever joke. Although, one day, with practice… When he lifted his has the flames were gone, leaving only the tattered remains of what had once been Marceline's sleeve, grey flesh undamaged by its own power. That alone was impressive as well, but for an all-too different reason. Hunson's own outfit was undamaged. "Huh."

"What?" Still the same teenage indignation, but with some budding curiosity. Hunson only hoped Marceline was more intrigued than she was angry, because as much as he appreciated his own - and thus, by extension, his daughter's - temper, the two monarchs weren't the only ones with questions. In reality this impromptu visit was turning into a successfully fact-finding mission for both parties.

"Does that hurt? You know, the burning and stuff?"

Marceline blinked at the question, animosity successfully fading. When her father withdrew his hand she looked down at her arm with only a twinge of regret: she had liked that shirt. "Uh… is it supposed to? 'Cause it actually…" And then she trailed off, hesitant to finish the thought. Hesitant, because the rest of the thought was 'felt really good', and that came with a side order of can of worms. "Look, that's not why we're here-"

"Marceline…"

The vampire sighed softly as she heard the soft footsteps of Bonnibel crossing the room to join the demons. She could already hear the matter-of-fact response in her mind, the gentle reminder that this kind of thing is exactly why they were there. "I know, I know." She didn't fight the soft hand covering her arm. The skin was already too cool to hurt it. "You don't need to-"

"Does it hurt?"

That question, that concern, wasn't what she was expecting at all and she finally turned to face her lover. The curiosity, she had been expecting to see that. But there were other things hiding in those piercing green eyes, things Marceline refused to even bother attempting to identify. Just in case she was misreading the situation, in cases she was wrong, in case- "...Wait, what?"

"Does it hurt?," Bonnibel pressed.

Concern for her safety over the need for results? This was getting weird. "Uh… not really?"

"Not really or no?"

Okay, at least this was familiar, this infuriating need for specifics. She'd never admit it, but Marceline felt relieved - actually relieved - at the tiny edge of scientific inquiry in her mate's tone. It lived there, it always had. Even when she was sick, exhausted, or experiencing any number of emotions or situations Bonnibel's know-it-all-ism was something… normal. Something Marceline could rely on. Something, if she was honest with herself, she'd missed. "...No. Doesn't hurt."

Bonnibel nodded to herself, turning the arm resting trustfully in her hands over to display the underside. She ran two trained fingers up the soft skin from elbow to palm, but there was no flinching, burns, micro-twinges, or any other indicators that something extraordinary had just occurred. And so it was the princess's turn to look to Hunson and take up the question Marceline had been denied an answer to. "Is it supposed to?"

Hunson raised an eyebrow at the strange sight before him, but gave no comment on it. "Not if she's doing it right. See, little monster? Just as much a demon as me!"

Is that serially supposed to be a compliment? Before she could sarcastically voice this concern, though, Marceline was stunned into silence by the sight of her father extending his palm, his own fire channelled forward as if pyrokinesis were just no big deal. Whereas the musician's fire began orange and turned white under unknown circumstances Hunson's began and stayed white, and at first the two white flames seemed identical. At least, to Marceline herself.

Bonnibel, however, saw otherwise. Just as Marceline's ears were that of a trained musician and were capable of reproducing music from subtle notes and tones Bonnibel's eyes were that of a brilliant scientist, accustomed to catching subtle differences between two specimens, knowing that if she were not eternally vigilant an opportunity for building on her encyclopedic knowledge of possibly-literally-everything would pass her by. Where her queen had seen two identical white flames Bonnibel's keen eyes knew better, even if her exposure to her mate's fire had been brief and, admittedly, she had been preoccupied with not melting. That didn't stop her from noticing the differences, though. It didn't stop the opalesque sheen present in Marceline's fire, or that Hunson's flame seemed to encase his hand, whereas his child's had begun in the palm before being manipulated - perhaps unconsciously - to wrap around the rest of the arm. Phoebe did say that for her kind fire is representative of the individual… And there it was, can of worms #2, and wouldn't you know it, Bonnibel lacked a can opener.

"But… why does it turn white? I mean, you saw it, right? It started as-"

Hunson chuckled softly. It took having his child's mind ripped apart, but they were finally having a father-daughter moment, and she was taking an interest in her family tree to boot. "Show me again," he prompted. At first she hesitated, clearly uncertain given the close proximity of the candy golem, but when the same candy golem whispered a soft reassurance in her ear Marceline lifted her hand, producing a cautious flame.

"...Huh. It's orange now."

Hunson watched it intently, watched as it struggled to grow but fell just short of thriving. Hm… no, that doesn't seem right… An idea struck him and he turned to Bonnibel, making sure to keep his one cordial. Even before he opened his mouth he caught the orange flame ripple suggestively, as if its caster were anticipating him doing something distasteful. "I recommend stepping back, just in case something happens."

It was the thoughtfulness in his voice that sold it. Whether it was sincere or not was anyone's guess. "Very well." After giving Marceline's shoulder a reassuring squeeze Bonnibel took half a dozen steps back, not missing the look of ambivalence she was being given as she retreated. "It's alright, Marcy. Go ahead. I'm safely back here."

Marceline was, unsurprisingly, unconvinced. "Bon, you don't really have the best track record of knowing when you're actually safe."

Fair point. "Be that as it may… please? I promise, I'll stay safe."

Marceline groaned, but failed to find a convincing way past that imploring tone. "Fine. Just… just stay there." She meant for that to come out much more intimidating than it did. Instead it just sounded rather defeated. Story of my life, right there. Shaking that unpleasant thought away Marceline turned back to his father, skirting right around his unreadable expression. "What?"

"Hm? Oh! I was just thinking about-"

"No. Dad. I mean, what do I do now?"

"Oh, right!" His laugh was awkward and everyone knew it. "What did you feel when you felt your flame change?"

"I didn't," Marceline mumbled, looking away. "It just happened."

"Exactly!," he grinned. "I think you've been thinking about it too hard, little monster. Fire is natural to demons, especially for us. If you think about it you won't be able to use it like you could."

"So… what? Risk it going all over the pace and melting-" Bonnibel "-peeps I care about?"

Hunson shook his head, undeterred by the sarcastic tone. "You can't control a reflex, Marceline, but you can make sure it's going in the right direction."

"Uh uh." She shook her head. "You want to just let it go and-"

"Marceline," he sighed softly. "You're afraid of what you can do, and as long as you're afraid of that your reflex to summon fire is always going to be followed up by your reflex to think of yourself as dangerous."

"I am dangerous!"

"True," he nodded. "But nothing says you have to be dangerous to your mate, or any of your cool friends." He shrugged, tilting his head to the side. "I'm a pretty powerful guy, but I haven't hurt any of them, have I?" Marceline narrowed her eyes, not entirely sure if that was a threat, a question, an observation, or a musing. With a soft smile Hunson kneeled, hand resting on her shoulder. "Marceline, you have immense power at your disposal, and you've seen and experienced things no one should as a child."

"I'm over a thousand years old, dad."

He smirked, a gesture just different enough from Marceline's for it to not bother Bonnibel. Too much, anyway. "You've lived for over a thousand years, but you died at nineteen, so my guess is that you're going to be nineteen forever." There was an immense sense of deja vu at those words, but the more the vampire fought to find their origin the quicker it slipped through her fingers. "When we go through impossible situations, like the ones you grew up in, you choose what to do with the results. You've chosen to live a life with cool friends, your mate, your hobbies… and even if it means rejecting the Nightosphere I'm so proud of you. But the key, little monster, is that if you keep thinking about yourself as something horrible and dangerous you'll never see what you can actually do with your power." His free hand poked her in the chest, gently, affectionately. "You can even do demon things I can't, and that's pretty amazing."

"...I can?"

He nodded. "I can't bloodlust like you can. I might not have seen it but I've heard a lot about it from Finn and Jake. You've used it to protect your home, and I don't think you can understand yet how improbable that ability really is." The hand withdrew and he tapped the amulet around his neck, not blaming her brief wince. "This is a tool to control the Nightosphere. It grants me power by feeding on me. There's certainly a lot to feed off of."

His dark chuckle soured when he saw her turn away. Out of the corner of her eye Marceline caught Bonnibel watching intently, not with a look of intellectualism but with one of love and uneasiness. "Then why did it try to waste me?" Hunson shook his head once more. This was new, dangerous territory but, more importantly, Marceline had finally calmed enough to have an at least semi-rational conversation. He wasn't going to let this go. Not now, not after everything that she had suffered through at the hands of his own creation.

"I have an hypothesis."

Bonnibel's voice was uncharacteristically soft, and Hunson supposed she must have sensed the delicate nature of the conversation, coupled with the rare ebb of the half-demon's rage. Perhaps her gentle tone was meant to soften whatever blow she was about to deliver, or maybe she felt guilty about interrupting a father-daughter moment. When he looked up he gave a very slight nod, a silent indicator that she could come closer. No, she should come closer, because while Hunson had watched over their bodies the princess had been the one to recover Marceline from her mind. Of the three immortals in the room, she alone remembered everything. The vampire watched her approach, the prompt silent but conspicuous all the same. "Hunson, you said that you created the amulet to feed off of your own dark traits. It creates power for you, which you then use responsibly to govern the Nightosphere, correct?"

Well, 'responsibly' was pushing it, but- "More or less."

"And would you say, realistically, that it can alter your mentality as well?"

"More or less. I'm used to it at least."

Bonnibel nodded absently, turning to catch Marceline's gaze in full. When she finally succeeded she reached up, cupping her cheek. She wasn't going anywhere. "Your father and the chaos amulet seem to have a symbiotic relationship. They both benefit from their arrangement. Being a being of literal chaos he has more than enough for the amulet to feed off of, which then produces power for him as a by-product. It becomes a cycle, but a positive one. In your case the arrangement was parasitic. You have the capacity for the same darkness and your own unique mental trauma, but when the amulet fed on them and produced the byproduct you weren't ready to even recognize it as a resource, let alone use it responsibly. Instead it caused you even more distress, thus perpetuating the catastrophe until your psyche collapsed under the strain."

"So… what? It saw me as prey?" There was a dark undertone in her voice. Some emotion was threatening to return, something much more sinister than rage.

Well, that's a word for it.

Rechte.

What? You're not going to solve this by coddling her.

"Prey… might not be too far off, if we can assume it has a consciousness of its own?" She looked over her shoulder, but Hunson only shrugged unhelpfully. Judging by the flicker in his eyes, though, she thought he might be agreeing with her. "Marcy…" When she turned back she found the vampire nuzzling into her hand, but without taking any real joy in it. It was an act just to act, something to do with her anxious energy. And Bonnibel Bubblegum knew all about anxious energy. "Let's ignore the chaos amulet. Even if you do choose to wear it one day a bazillion years from now you're not ready, and it's not important. It isn't the mission. That's to get you well again, remember?" A very slow, reluctant nod, devoid of the previous rage. Good. She's calm.

Or something a lot more negative. You know. Whichever. Not telling you how to do your job.

Bonnibel ignored that. "You have so much potential within you, and you can't run from it… but it's up to you to decide what to do with it. It's as much a threat as you're prepared to make it, and to whom you choose to make it to."

"Bon…" When she tried to look away the younger woman felt a strange feeling surge through her, some mix between sudden aggression and that newly-developed protective streak, and though she didn't exactly force Marceline to remain in position her refusal to let her turn away broke what little resistance the vampire had against her.

"Marcy, I saw inside your couch," she offered softly. "How many times have you saved my life without telling me?" And why didn't I ask? "You made an entire form just to save me, and when we were in your mind you used that same form to defeat Lady Evil."

That was new. "...I did?"

"Yes, Marcy. She called herself the trigger for your bloodlust, and… quite honestly, I believe her. However, during your final confrontation you won, and you won by using all of those pieces of yourself that scare you to protect me, and to protect Finn and Jake." Her sigh was something cozy, something familiar to Marceline, even if she couldn't place why. "Hypothetically, you could reign terror over Ooo-"

Nice.

"-but have you? No. Not because you're incapable but because you choose not to. Right now you choose not to tap into your full potential because you're afraid of yourself. But I'm not afraid of you, Marceline."

"Dumb choice," she mumbled.

"I stand by it." Bonnibel's smile was evident in those four words. "Your father has confirmed what I suspected, and what I believe you suspected as well. Given the correct circumstances, amulet or no amulet, your powers can match his, and may even exceed his own in time. It's not healthy to deny it. It's better if we're prepared for it."

"Bon, I could kill someone-"

"Realistically, Marcy, tragedy is more likely to strike the unprepared. Only you get to decide what all of this means for you." She took a deep breath, then exhaled, already not believing that she was about to admit- "Phoebe and I had a conversation before she agreed to return to discuss the trade agreement, about what potential as a concept meant." Marceline lifted her head, curiosity getting the better of her. Bonnibel mentioning Phoebe's name without any negative inflection? This had to be good. "I created my kingdom with you, and from nothing. I hadn't considered it before, but most of my fellow princesses do not have the same history. They inherited their thrones. Phoebe's kingdom… well, you've been around it quite a bit more than I. Do you remember what it was like before she took the throne?"

Marceline was shocked by how neutral Bonnibel was keeping her tone of voice. She must have one mondo point if she's keeping chill about Phoebe. "Yeah. The fire peeps have always been really war-like. I mean, the Fire King was bad, but it's not like it was just him."

"Correct. Phoebe told me that when she realized what she was and what she could do she wanted nothing to do with her throne, only to realize, in time, that it was up to her to decide what those powers and her kingdom meant. She got to choose what kind of princess she would be, and how she would use her powers. It's the same for you, Marcy. You can't change what you are and the gifts you have, but you do get to decide how to use them and what you want them to do for you. Yes, someone may get hurt as you learn… but we can't rule out that they wouldn't be hurt if you didn't." She ended her speech much more quietly than it had began, fearing that it had almost turned into a lecture there towards the end. When Marceline didn't call her out on it she decided that was either really good or really bad, but wasn't sure how to tactfully decipher between the two.

When Hunson's hand clamped around her shoulder Marceline glared out of the corner of her eye, but her heart just wasn't in it. "Your fire's going to turn white whether you want it to or not, but I can't tell you what will mark the change."

Marceline snorted. "Can you tell me anything? How the flip I control when I go all bloodlust-y?"

Hunson's chortle wasn't the answer she wanted. "All of those powers you're afraid of aren't things you can think about. If you try to make logical sense of it when it's happening you're going to waste a lot of energy. Don't think about it, just try to feel and sense what's around you."

"That's bulldonks, daddy."

Perhaps, but it gave Bonnibel an idea. "Hm…" Taking Marceline's hand in her own, for she was absolutely convinced the older woman was still planning to run, the princess ran her thumb over her exposed wrist. It successfully ensnared the older woman's attention without risking further agitation. "If your father's claims are accurate than your abilities stem from your natural propensity to bend the laws of reality around you… but because you do not break them, as that would be impossible, they must in some way make logical sense, correct?" Marceline stared blankly, and she took that as an affirmative. "Magic doesn't exist, but I can accept the argument that whatever I have seen obeys the natural order in poorly understood ways. After all, science has all of the answers, we just aren't always able to decipher them yet. So," she smiled, tracing Marceline's jawline absently, "let me worry about how it makes sense. Don't think too hard about it. Do what comes naturally and let me puzzle out the pieces."

"I could hurt you-"

Inconsequential. "You stand a bigger chance of hurting yourself."

"But-"

"Marceline…" She squeezed her eyes, took a deep breath, swallowed her pride- "I know that I haven't earned your trust, nor do I deserve it yet, but this is something I need to help you with. If I thought anyone else could do it better I promise I would defer to them instead. However… we've been together for so long, and though it seems I'm learning more and more about you each day I think I'm the most qualified to assist." Marceline was silent, watching her thoughtfully. Bonnibel wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but she'd take what she could get. "I'll take every precaution, and if it makes you more comfortable we can consult with Phoebe or the boys to help. You handle bending reality, I'll figure out why and how it works. With both of our efforts combined we will find not only a reason, but a methodology for you to learn to master your abilities. Just like when we were younger and I helped you learn to fully control your vampiric abilities." Marceline bit her lip, letting the fang pierce the flesh without removing it. "These are just pieces of you, Marcy. They aren't you in of themselves, but they deserve attention. They're just strange to you right now, but once we understand them I'm confident that you'll see that they aren't scary unless you choose to make them scary to others. That will be the key. Choice. It's what you were robbed of and what we need to return to you."

The vampire watched her, an unreadable expression decorating her face. Piercing green eyes had her own captured, trying to convey some deep emotion that Marceline wasn't used to seeing in them. It was surreal, all of it, the entire day. The mind games the dimension was playing with her, the ebb and flow of her own moods, the wallop of information her father had laid on her as if it were so obvious. The demons she had eviscerated hours earlier, how soft and warm Bonnibel's hands were, how she had offered to bring in outside consultants to help her, a silent admission that even brainlords could need help-

"...Alright. I need to think about it, but…" She nodded, but before Bonnibel could praise her wise decision the musician pulled away, walking - not even floating - out of her father's office. There was just too much happening in that small room, and none of it could be clawed or bitten into submission. "I'm done. I can't…"

"Would you like to go home?" Bonnibel watched her retreat with only a twinge of guilt at having pressed so hard.

"...Yeah. I need to get something first. I'll be in my room." And then she was gone, leaving her family to gawk at her abrupt departure. Not that the princess could blame her, really. She could only imagine how heavy this entire conversation- no, this entire reality must be weighing on her. I'll take care of this, Marcy, Bonnibel silently promised her.

"That was probably as good as it could have been."

Oh. Yes. The other demon in the room. "Yes…"

Awkward.

"I'm going to go make sure she's alright. Thank you for meeting with us-"

"Should I anticipate seeing you again soon?" Now his tone was changing, Hunson losing the soft edge reserved for his daughter. Now it was all business, because Bonnibel had scheduled an appointment, something she called 'high priority'.

"Yes. By Ooo's calendar-"

"Don't worry, Jan will make sure it isn't missed. I'm excited to know what it is you'd like to talk about. For now, though…" He nodded towards the door, an informal dismissal, and though Princess Bubblegum would be insulted by such a poor excusal Bonnibel herself recognized it for what it was: an acknowledgement that as much as Hunson wanted to to do for Marceline there was a caste system in place, and certain things only her mate was allowed to say in emotional and traumatic situations. And there was pity in his eyes as well, something else Princess Bubblegum would have missed, but a sentiment the candy golem shared. Were she Princess Bubblegum in both mind and role Bonnibel knew exactly what she would do right now: she would allow Marceline to retire to her room, missing the subtle nuance indicating her distress if not outright ignoring it, taking this as an opportunity to have her conversation with Hunson. A 'while I'm here' situation if there ever was one.

Now the thought sickened Bonnibel, because it meant that some part of her considered Marceline's emotional needs to be secondary to what Bonnibel considered practical needs. It meant that some part of her had considered these two categories to be separate, it meant Bonnibel had been both a terrible scientist and mate, unable to see how everything was connected, how the practical means nothing without the emotional, but there would be no point to her upcoming talk with Hunson if Marceline were forced to wallow in her own despair, unable to find a way out, unable to even recognize it was happening at all. No. Marcy needs me now. There will be time enough later for everything else. With barely a dismissal of her own the scientist took off for the hallway at a brisk pace, just enough to be dignified. Not that she needed to go quickly; Marceline hadn't made it far down the hall, so much slower at walking than she was floating. "Marcy?," Bonnibel prompted, and were it not for the slight twitch of a grey ear she could be persuaded to believe that her inquiry had been missed. But it wasn't, it hadn't, and she swiftly caught up to her queen. "Hey. Are you alright?"

Marceline didn't look at her, only giving a half-hearted shrug. There wasn't even a snarky response to go along with the gesture, only resignation.

Resigned to what? Well, Bonnibel knew one thing. "Marceline… forgive me for asking, but I have to know." Silence, and she took a steadying breath. "What your father said… have you always been aware that the nature of the amulet is to force Deathlessness? That if-" I had succeeded "-you had accepted the amulet without it shattering your mind…" She trailed off, the question too heavy for her to know how to unload safely. "You tried to take it because I told you that it would have made me happy, but you never mentioned that you would be forced to live forever. Did you ever…?" Marceline watched her as they walked, but made no effort to ask the question for her. "Did you ever plan to tell me?"

"Would you have cared?" Marceline kept walking, Bonnibel didn't. It wasn't cold or cruel exactly, nor was it a snap. Neither did it sound curious, indicating that the vampire already had reason to suspect an answer. It was almost empty, devoid of warmth. When Bonnibel didn't follow to catch up Marceline finally stopped, watching her younger mate from across the corridor. "You never asked, Bon. You always ask lots of questions if you care about something. I figured what was the point in you knowing if you didn't care? You would've had me do it anyway."

No. No, I was terrible, but I was better than this. Even in her mind she sounded desperate to make that justification sound real, to believe she was more than her baser instincts. Do you still think you're the only monster, Marceline? "I may have done a lot of messed up things, Marcy, but-"

Marceline sighed softly, shaking her head. "I dunno, Bon. Maybe you would've cared, or remembered that my greatest fear is eternity without you, but you know how that would've ended anyway? I tell you that whoever wears that amulet is Deathless and only someone from my bloodline can wear it, and you would've said that I better do a good job of protecting you then." A cold laugh mixed with a choked growl. "'Cause if I ever take over the Nightosphere it's mine, which means unless you and I ever have a kid I'm stuck with it forever. If I take it over and you die the next day I'm stuck Deathless. Without you. So… be real, Bon. With both of us. Would you have cared, or just seen it as another opportunity to do Princess Bubblegum stuff?"

She's asking me a real question. She wants a real answer.

This is probably one of those fork-in-the-road questions, Bon. Think it over really carefully before you answer. She's asking a lot more than she's saying.

Even as Rechte cautioned her Bonnibel took after Marceline, pulling her into a tight hug. Only when she buried her face in the older woman's shoulder did she realize she had been crying softly and effortlessly, just thin streams borne from her newly-found about to self-reflect. Without either woman realizing it Marceline pulled the princess against her, letting the candy golem's head rest on her shoulder as her calloused hand rubbed her back. As much as she wanted to take away her mate's pain, though, she needed an answer. "Bon…"

Bonnibel nodded, waiting for her dignity to return to her, or to at least calm down. In the back of her mind Rechte mused that Marceline had specifically mentioned them having a child together, as if that were a possibility, but even that did little to soothe her. Later, much later, Bonnibel would giggle at that possibility and all it entailed, and Rechte would praise herself for her ability to catch 'life's simple joys'. Right now, though, such an action would be most disrespectful. "...I don't know, Marceline. I'd… I'd like to think that even at my worst I never would have held that over you, but I can't…" Her grip tightened. "I don't know, because my own motivations seem so… perverse now. To desire power so much I've been willing to hurt you like this for centuries? I know I've always loved you, but… how do I even know what that means in light of everything?" Her hand gripped the vampire's shirt as her left arm wrapped around her own stomach, feeling the soft jacket against her arm. "None of this was my original intention, but it went so wrong. I let it go so wrong." How much time between us have I wasted? How many opportunities to enjoy ourselves have I squandered? It was an odd sensation, hating yourself.

Nah, you don't hate yourself. You hate the personification of what you were and what you could be. Princess Bubblegum to you is what Lady Evil is to her. Same role, same sadism, same arrogance… there's a reason the Lady Evil you met liked you so much, and why you still have that attraction to her you're trying really hard to deny, you know? You don't hate you, Bon. You hate that you let yourself get out of control. First step is admitting it all, so reel it in.

I don't know how.

Then let her reel you in.

Her…? Well, if anyone was suited to the role it certainly was Marceline. The queen knew every dark facet of her princess, had suffered untold abuse for centuries. Any logical creature would have left hundreds of years ago, run as fast and far as possible, for Princess Bubblegum had never been shy about viewing the vampire as property and keeping her on a tight leash. Yet in spite of everything Marceline was the one holding her now, only wanting answers, not fights. Even from the corner of her eye Bonnibel could see that she looked crazy tired, far too tired to fight. I'm supposed to be comforting her! Stop being a donkus, Bubblegum! As delicately as she dared Bonnibel disentangled herself, watching Marceline level her with the same unreadable expression. No. Maybe if I had been paying more attention to you I would know what that look means. "I'm sorry, Marceline. You may very well be right. Maybe I wouldn't have cared, or even used it as leverage against you. It's certainly within the realm of possibility. I wish I could tell you one way or the other… but that person is gone now. She's a role. She won't hurt you anymore." Now it was Bonnibel's turn to pull Marceline into her arms. It felt better this way. "I won't hurt you anymore. Those facets of her personality that created her may exist in me, but just like your fire and your fangs those traits of Princess Bubblegum can be more than weapons. We're both more than weapons. I'm going to find some way to prove it to you, and I won't stop until either I succeed or you tell me to. If you want me to leave at any time, Marceline… just tell me. I certainly understand."

Marceline rested her head against the younger woman. "...It all just hurts so much, Bon. I feel like a ding dong." There was quiet, as two immortal women hundreds of years old felt themselves tongue-tied before the other. "...Let's get back to Ooo. I just wanna grab something in my room first." She pulled away without any expediency, waiting for Bonnibel to compose herself before reaching the massive doorway befitting her room. Only after Marceline entered did the candy golem follow suit, and only when the vampire set off on whatever task she had in mind did the princess close the door.

"So what did you need?" She watched Marceline float across her room, up through the rows of her wall of instruments. In all honesty, most of them were entirely unfamiliar to Bonnibel, yet another reminder of how much time she had wasted. If Marceline heard the pang of longing in her voice she didn't draw attention to it, instead landing in front of her to hold up what looked like a violin, except this one seemed to be heavily modified, with only a sleek black frame tinted vermillion, a gunmetal neck, bridge, and tailpiece, and a neon green fractal-pattern embedded in the chinrest and pegbox. In Marceline left hand she held a bow the same color as the violin-like device itself, but her grip made it difficult to discern properly.

"Electric violin. Figured…" Her eyes turned away as if she were about to say something incriminating. "...Figured if I'm gonna do that concert I should do something besides my bass, and I haven't used this guy in awhile." It was a good thing that Marceline wasn't looking, because Bonnibel was positively beaming. Odd how even now nothing could cheer Bonnibel up quite like her queen's music. Given how quickly she shoved both objects into warm, pink hands it would be safe to say she probably knew anyway. "Time to go back. Remember from before?"

Bonnibel repressed her smile, nodding. "Yes. Me first."

"Right." Marceline's hands shifted into claws, but just as she went raise them, to catch the fabric of reality surrounding them, she stopped. "...Look. When we get back… we need to talk, okay? Just… not here."

There are no four words more dreaded in any relationship than 'we need to talk'. Bonnibel, despite her self-reserved dignity, gulped. "Of course. Is there… a topic sentence?"

Marceline laughed weakly, shaking her head as she resumed position. "You're such a nerd. It's not bad. It's just… I can't say certain stuff here 'cause I don't know how much of it is me and how much is this place messing with me. You know?"

She did. She really did. "I understand. Let's go home, Marcy."

All-too happy to oblige, Marceline tore through the boundaries of the multiverse for the second time, connecting one homeworld to another. For a brief, horrible moment as she stepped through the portal Bonnibel thought Marceline might change her mind at the last moment, might drop her off in Ooo only to stay behind in the Nightosphere after all. Panic gripped her, but by the time it was full-blown she was through the proverbial wall, landing on her soft bed in the Candy Kingdom. She looked around quickly, scanning for any signs of the vampire. No no no, she wouldn't have-

"Uh… Bon? You okay?"

There, to her left, closing the portal in the exact same manner Rechte had done, was Marceline watching her with clear concern in her eyes. Her cheeks flushed rose as the magnitude of how ridiculous she must have looked settled over her. "Oh. Yes. I thought…" She cleared her throat, as if that could clear her embarrassment. "You… wished to speak?"

Marceline raised an eyebrow, watching her princess compose herself. Okay, don't know what that's about… But returning to Ooo had its intended effect: the influence of the Nightosphere was fading, and the desire to say what she had wanted to say hadn't gone with it. The two watched one another as the vampire retrieved her instrument, settling it on the nightstand without much thought, too preoccupied with what was happening around her. Too preoccupied with Bonnibel. Not breaking their line of sight the queen floated to the bed and sat on it, next to her younger lover. "I think… we need to get on the same page about what just happened. We need to talk about what we're going to do and not going to do, and what it all means." She sighed. "But… there's one thing I want to say first, because I've been thinking about it for awhile. I wasn't sure at first, since you…" She sighed, trailing off, almost growling. "Ugh, this is so dumb and hard!" Her frustration wasn't out-of-place; this was too new, too uncomfortable. And though she couldn't admit it, even to herself, Marceline was scared.

Bonnibel watched her worriedly, taking her hand into both of her own. "Hey, it's alright…" The hand was lifted and she kissed it. "Easy, Marcy… I know you're mega stressed right now and your brain's all frizz-fried, so just take it slow, okay? You just learned a lot and you'll need some time to parse through it-"

"Yeah," she nodded, agreeing without caring. "I know, and all that's important… but it reminded me of something Lady Evil said, in my dumb dillweed bird dream." She pulled her legs against her chest, letting her shoes drop to hold her knees close. Her eyes closed, the sensation of two piercing green eyes boring into her more than enough to reassure her that she had Bonnibel's undivided attention. "Don't get me wrong, she's absolutely nuts, and… probably not real? But she was right about one thing. Everything I do… it's always a fight between truth and freedom, because I can't have both. She said… choosing one thing is choosing against something else, but no matter what happens we all never stop having to stop choosing."

"And… that's what this is about? You've made a choice about something?"

She had.

"Regarding… us, I presume?"

It was. In fact, it was the summation of everything, every thought, every emotion, every action undertaken since Marceline first awoke, since she first learned of Bonnibel's betrayal. Marceline watched her lover, watched her resisting the urge to squirm, watched her obvious nervousness that she was either poorly concealing or, more likely, wasn't even bothering to. Even now the vampire hadn't grown used to their changing dynamic, was still unaccustomed to being in any sort of leadership position between the two, and as much as she felt vindicated by watching Bonnibel have to give up her precious control some deeper, more primitive part of her revolted at the idea. It was the sensation of feeling two halves of her bicker; on the one hand, she wanted normalcy, but on the other there was the very real concern that Bonnibel could fall back into old ways.

Watching her now, watching her apprehension, it was hard for the half-demon to imagine. Not because she was watching her mate through rose-colored glasses - those were broken and scattered into tiny pieces by now - but because she knew what anxiety and heartbreak looked like first hand. Ultimately, it the summation of all of this knowledge, all of these thoughts and ideas straight into three little words, three little words that would alter both of their fates and, eventually, the fate of Ooo itself. They were three little words Bonnibel had never expected to here, had never thought she deserved to. They were three little words Marceline never expected to say, had never thought Bonnibel deserved to hear. Something was different now, though. Marceline wasn't saying them because she felt compelled, or because a prophecy told her to. They didn't feel sour or bitter in her mouth, nor did they feel like self-deception. Instead they flowed, even though there was a tightness in her chest, even though she could figuratively feel her heart in her throat, because she knew once they were uttered there was no going back.

That inescapable knowledge, profound though it was, didn't change her choice.

"I forgive you."