Real talk: Aaaand we're back! Well, we all saw how Marceline's holding up, now it's time for everyone's favorite princess. At this point it's entirely possible that the chapter count is going to go up again. I hadn't anticipated the dual Marceline/Bonnibel arcs to take longer than a chapter each, but then Usurper showed up and then this whole thing happened and wow was I wrong.
Remember how I said a long time ago that we were going to reach a point in the story where either you like where this is going or you don't? Well, here we are. Hopefully it's well-received.
Content warnings:
Just Bonnie and associate
Little bit of world building (not much)
Jan's back
Mind games
Reveal
Please don't fall in love with someone who may or may not be the literal devil, come on guys
It had to be done. It was necessary, it was vital, it was inarguable that it had to be done. As Bonnibel Bubblegum watched Marceline, Finn, and Jake make their way from her Kingdom and off towards the horizon the candy golem kept repeating to herself over and over and over that what she was doing, what she had just done, was necessary, vital, inarguable, and had to be done. She stayed at her castle's gate longer than was strictly necessary, unable to turn away for no real logical reason, a sensation she was still getting used to. Marceline was in capable of hands, and Bonnibel had every reason to believe that her queen would return home safely. Perhaps she would be in need of some tender love and care, for this adventure would undoubtedly be painful in a profoundly psychological way, but she was under the watchful eyes Bonnibel's gallant champions, their best friends. And Phoebe.
Yes, this was all necessary. Marceline needed to learn to control her flame. She needed to stop being afraid of herself and what she could do, and as a trained scientist Bonnibel was all-too aware that the only way to cure a fear of the unknown was to make it the known. Whether or not the vampire did anything with this knowledge would be up to her, but she needed the education regardless. Strictly speaking, the princess knew she was also fulfilling her own contract to Lady Evil, keeping her promise to have Whole Marceline trained, but that was a side-effect and nothing more.
Bonnibel wanted to be there with her, and even now she found herself tempted to rationalize some reason to make it so, but logic won out and she knew this was something Marceline had to do without her. The younger woman would be too big a distraction, and as much as she hated to admit it the half-demon's fear of accidentally killing her should her fire blaze beyond control wasn't without merit; sapient or not she was still mostly comprised of sugar. More than that, though, Marceline needed to understand that her mate trusted her, trusted her to grow and try and fail, trusted her to leave and come back on her own terms. As a couple they were doing better, far better than Bonnibel ever dared hope, but the young scientist knew she could be overbearing even in the best of times. Better to let go of the musician a little too readily than be accused of holding her on an unnecessarily tight leash. Things were still too fragile between them, they were still recovering.
Besides, she was about to do something that may change everything.
With a soft exhalation Bonnibel turned and strode back into her castle, robotically following the path back to her rooms. As she counted her footsteps, bitterly admiring the resounding echo, it struck her how odd it was to miss Marceline so fiercely already, repressed anxiety no longer so neatly repressed. She was uncomfortably aware that it would be days before she'd hear her lover's voice, or witness the comforting sight of an axe bass perched lovingly on the side of the bed. It left a pit in her stomach that gnawed at her, and try as she might she couldn't get comfortable in her own skin. Is this what silence feels like to her? For better or worse, though, it wouldn't last for long. It couldn't. She had an appointment to keep.
She thought herself so sneaky, skulking back into her own rooms and closing the main entry door without a sound. Sharp eyes confirmed the bedroom was exactly as she had left it; though this was hardly unexpected paranoia was too deeply rooted in her soul to trust anything else. It urged her to her wardrobe, where inside she found Science curled on an old blanket, exactly in the way of progress. Bonnibel gave her a soft smile. "Sorry, Science. I have to get behind you." The small mouse's ear twitched and she opened an eye, only to scurry out of the cabinet. With light amusement Bonnibel watched her pet trail down the wood of her closet, over the stone floor, over the tacky beanbag, and over Schwabl's back. The dog, in turn, opened his eye and seemed to give her an almost strange look before settling back down, allowing the mouse to scurry around the beanbag in search of a comfortable spot. Eventually she gave up, tried for his back, stumbled, fell into him, and seemed to give up.
Curious.
Bonnibel shook her head and returned to her mission: withdrawing an old brown messenger bag from the back of her closet, already filled and ready for what was about to come. She had thought preparing ahead of time would make things easier. It didn't. It just made it more real. With a sigh she pulled the bag to her chest, leaving the wardrobe door open should Science choose to return to her nest. A quick survey of its contents confirmed it was nearly complete: a notebook; spare pens; a small inconspicuous black box; a short blueprint roll; a larger, decorative box; her glasses case; an empty cloth pouch the size of her hand, heat-resistant gloves, a projectile laser gun of her own design, and a short steel dagger. There was only one thing left to add, and with a small frown Bonnibel shoved her crown deep inside.
Man, it's gonna be weird seeing Hunson without a buffer, huh?
Bonnibel's mental response was interrupted by a knock on her door, and she frowned, setting her bag on the only part of the bed not covered by topographical maps of the Grasslands to answer it. Not that she didn't know who her visitor was; only one person she knew had a sharp knock like that, and only a select number of people were allowed near her rooms at all. Almost all of them were, in fact, on their way to the Fire Kingdom, leaving only-
"Pep?"
The door opened to reveal her esteemed butler staring at her intently. "Your Majesty," he greeted. "May I come in?"
Bonnibel frowned. While it wasn't the first time in their centuries-long friendship her servant had made such a request the princess couldn't discount how convenient the timing was. Still, he had an impeccable record of loyalty, not to the crown but to her personally. He had been the only one of her creations to stand by her when she had abdicated the throne and had in his own strange way helped not only the scientist but her champions learn what was wrong with Marceline, and how to bring her home. He had entertained her citizens while she focused on her wounded lover, and followed every instruction ever given to the letter. "Alright," she replied quietly, skeptically, standing aside just long enough for him to enter before closing the door. "What is it?"
The candy man's look remained levelled and his princess's frown deepened. "May I speak frankly, Your Highness?"
She raised an eyebrow. Curious. "Alright, Pep. What is it?"
"You timed your meeting with Hunson Abadeer to coincide with Miss Abadeer's journey to the Fire Kingdom, and you arranged for Finn and Jake to accompany her. For her safety, of course. I highly doubt this is a coincidence and," his gaze obviously turned to her stuffed bag just long enough to make his next point all the more palpable, "if I'm to judge by the state of your preparation and how calmly Miss Abadeer allowed herself to be dismissed she is unaware that you are meeting with her father. Am I to believe that you honestly intend to visit the Nightosphere unaccompanied?"
The disbelief was almost insubordination, but only two creatures in the world were allowed to take that tone with her and it was most fortunate for her butler that he was one of them. "This meeting is about Marceline."
"Yes, I figured that. She would never approve, not just of you meeting with your father but with you going to the Nightosphere alone."
Now she sighed. Evidently this was turning into a discussion, and while she was eager to be on her way she couldn't discount Peppermint Butler's obvious concern. Or the fact he may very well tattle on her if she didn't relieve him of his worries, because although he begrudgingly accepted Marceline's presence as his princess's suitor their own relationship was strained at best - attempting to eat him in his youth has that effect - and he would be happy to summon her back to the castle to stop Bonnibel from getting hurt. This required swift damage control. "I know Marceline wouldn't approve, but this is something I've been planning for months now. I need to talk to him about-" She almost spilled the beans, almost but not quite. "Something personal, and it's not something I want Marcy privy to." Not yet at least.
Peppermint Butler wasn't amused. "Be that as it may, Your Majesty, and as much as it pains me to say so, you cannot deny that her concerns are valid. As distasteful as she is she has undeniably saved your life many times, and many of those she's saved you from are demons. Now you plan to stroll into their homeland unguarded. Are you counting on your relationship to protect you?" He raised an eyebrow of his own, his voice borderline accusatory. Not that he was without just cause; while Bonnibel had always been aware that her life was constantly in danger; being one of, if not the most powerful rulers in Ooo had that consequence. Even she had been unaware as to just how close to death she had come over the centuries. Unaware, that is, until Marceline had accidentally revealed her secret when she had destroyed her house in a disassociative psychotic break, revealing her dozens if not hundreds of trophies in the process. Sure, some of them probably came from Ooo denizens, but the rest? No, those were decidedly demonic and Bonnibel knew it.
"I don't believe my relationship with her in of itself will protect me, Pep, but once I'm in the Citadel-"
He sighed and she knew that sigh. It was the same sigh she gave when she had to patiently explain what she assumed to be a simple concept to someone woefully ignorant, and she began to bristle. "Your Highness, being in Hunson's office itself may protect you - and that is quite a gamble in of itself, he's the Lord of Evil for a reason - but demons are largely creatures of instinct. Miss Abadeer's rare moments of forethought are an aberration, most likely gifted by her half-human heritage. If her father's subjects see you they will not hesitate to exploit your solitude. Further, you have only been to the Nightosphere twice. You are unfamiliar with even the Citadel, let alone the rest of the dimension. It is a cruel place where even the language could drive you insane."
He was right. He was right and she hated it. Not that it was going to stop her from going, or from meeting with Hunson. Not when she was so close to her plan coming to fruition. "Pep, I know it's dangerous, but I have to go."
Now his sigh was different, almost resigned. "I know, and it isn't my place to stop you if your mind has indeed been made up. With that said, Princess, if you must go I must accompany you."
Well, that was certainly unexpected. "Why?," she asked bewildered.
"I am a great deal more familiar with the Nightosphere than you are, and while the demon residents may loathe you they are aware I am on positive terms with Hunson Abadeer. Attacking you would mean I would of course defend you, and he would not tolerate a mindless assault on me. I can read the language, and I am familiar with demonic customs." His tone changed, something more understanding. She was about to protest and he knew it. "Do you really believe Miss Abadeer would recover if she were to return to the castle just to find out that in her absence you travelled to the Nightosphere and were injured? Or killed?"
He's got a point, Bon. You're a brainlord, but you're not infallible, and this is coming straight from your subconscious here.
Yes, he did have a point, and she hated it. If something happened to her… well, Marceline may not want to admit it but she was still recovering both mentally and physically, still learning the difference between reality and fantasy, and though it was obvious she trusted Finn, Jake - and, apparently, Phoebe - Bonnibel was the one she had gravitated towards. But it's more than that. She's already going to be furious that I'm going to the Nightosphere at all, if I'm hurt while I'm there she'll blame herself, spiral, and… I can't guarantee I'll get her back from that. That was the opposite of the reason she was going. It was the anti-goal.
She wanted to say she'd be fine, and while she would normally be quite content with this level of recklessness logic won out. Regrettably. "...Alright. I'm not sure how long we'll be gone. Hunson knows I want to speak to him about Marceline, but not the finer details. This must be done carefully, Pep, but I'm on a time limit. If Marcy comes home and I'm not here… well, she may not suspect I'd go to the Nightosphere but it's reasonable to assume that she'd be at the very least peeved with me for disappearing on her." Without thinking about it her hand traveled to her chest, resting just over her own holo-crystal. "If she tries to call she'll reach me in the Nightosphere, but I have no way of knowing if the area's natural distortion will prevent her from ascertaining where I am. I instructed Finn not to travel with her during the day, so at best I have two days to do this."
As she spoke Peppermint Butler watched her stoic, politely, patiently. It was only when he was certain she was finished that he cleared his throat, a non-verbal assent. "Then we should get going, Your Majesty."
She gave him a tired smile before picking up her bag once more, zipping up her letterman jacket, and strolling to the concealed archway that hid the entrance to her laboratory. "I kept the bug milk and chalk in my lab. I knew Marcy wouldn't go down there, and I couldn't risk her finding them up here." After all, chalk may find its way wherever it could but there was only ever one reason the princess would possess bug milk. Her hand against the wall revealed a compact alpha-numeric pad, grey with bright pink symbols. It was large enough to be just a tad too big to rest in her palm and was otherwise smooth, save for the finger-sized indent in the right side that concealed a hypodermic needle. It was a redundant security feature; in case the alpha-numeric portion of the pad became malfunctional the device could read her blood and grant her passage. In fact, that feature was new, added only when she redid the entire security system leading to her laboratory.
For hundreds of years before the Nightosphere travesty began Princess Bubblegum's laboratory corridor connecting to her bedroom had housed numerous traps designed to maim or even kill intruders. Until mere months ago these traps were never disabled unless she herself traversed the pathway; while Marceline was always welcomed in her laboratory itself the princess had never seen fit to give her a way to disable the numerous weapons. She liked to claim that it was because it was pointless, given Marceline's ability to heal from virtually any damage, but in reality it was for the same reason her laboratory's door was once lined in silver: some part of her was so paranoid it refused to discount the idea that her own mate would one day turn against her.
Altering the corridor had been a pet project, something meant to distract Bonnibel while Marceline hid in the Nightosphere. Over time she had effectively disassembled the hidden laboratory corridor, verifying not only that the traps were still fully functional but also assuring that one key change was hard-wired into the system: the door would now yield for both its master and the vampire, disabling the traps for both. Even the door had been replaced, visually identical but now lined with lead instead of silver, meant now to defend Bonnibel's sanctuary from true threats, not impossible and ridiculous ones. Ideally, she and Marceline would be able to use their respective passcodes to enter the laboratory but even now Bonnibel's paranoia was too ingrained in her to wantonly dismiss. As a compromise with herself she had installed the needle, a way of verifying identity through a quick prick, a drop of syrupy or dead blood.
But the keypad worked as intended, and though there was no audible indicator she knew that the traps and weapons hidden, laying in wait for a victim, would continue to lay in wait as she and her esteemed butler travelled to the next room. Once the door revealed itself she motioned for Peppermint Butler to follow her through, then sealed the door behind her. The mint was silent as he and his mistress followed the cold stone corridor; there was no light but that was a trap for intruders in of itself, and hundreds of years of muscle memory assured that Bonnibel didn't actually need light to guide her home. She knew every crevice, every bump, where the path was smooth, where the floor had been damaged by Marceline in her haste to escape something presumably fatal or at least injurious. It had been a conscious choice not to repair those blemishes. They made a good reminder for Bonnibel of what she had done. Of her sins. They were obstructions now that she had to remain vigilant for when she walked, and no matter how many times she passed them she couldn't help but wonder what had happened to cause them and oh how she had an active imagination. Being the smartest woman alive, dead, or otherwise had that effect.
Peppermint Butler was silent as he watched his liege approach the second door, the one that separated the corridor from the laboratory proper. Well, 'watched' was a bit of an exaggeration; he only survived the pitfalls of the hallway by staying close, but he didn't need light to sense the rigidity in Bonnibel's posture, to hear her heavy footsteps in such light shoes or her nervous breathing in such stale air. It made him frown to see her like this. He hated it, respected her too much to do anything but. But Peppermint Butler, unlike every other creation - or so it seemed to him - could read a room and even he had to begrudgingly admit that as much as he disliked Marceline Abadeer it was inarguable that he was walking through centuries' worth of near-True-Death experiences. He might not like how or why his mistress was torturing herself but it wasn't his place to stop her. He hated that, too.
The hum of the overhead lamps beckoned him into the laboratory and he was too happy to be out of the dark hallway. The door closed behind him, but he didn't notice. No, he was too busy watching Bonnibel, watching how determined she was to succeed in whatever her master plan was. During Marceline's absence she had swung wildly between obsessively focused with a given project and almost catatonic, between shutting out the world that existed outside of her mind and unable to persuade herself to even eat. That was another thing he hated to admit too, that Marceline's return to the castle had marked a dramatic improvement in the princess's health. Not that he blamed the vampire for staying away for so long; she had been hurt, and betrayed, and as much as he disliked her it seemed she was going to remain a staple of his matriarch's immortal life, and so his life as well.
Lots of hating of things today.
In her last hyper-focused mood experienced before she, Finn, and Jake brought Marceline home from the Nightosphere Bonnibel had worked tirelessly to organize her laboratory. Each of the six steel beds had been polished, with their restraints oiled and mounted. Her computer hummed with some background program he didn't understand, even as her centrifuge remained uncharacteristically still. Each of her white cabinets were shut tightly, all but four locked. That was new, he noted. Odd. There was a faint scent of ammonia wafting from the steel chemical sink, sucked into the industrial fan in lieu of the closed window.
As he watched Bonnibel strolled to a miniature steel refrigerator filled with samples and specimens alike, none of them organized. She kneeled and reached in deep, pulling a small carton of bug milk. As she nudged the door shut she stood, turning now to her desk. "Let me just grab the chalk and we'll go," she mumbled to no one in particular. There was the sound of a drawer sliding open and shut, immediately followed by scratching as she approached the wall opposite her beloved, ancient poster of the periodic table of elements as the humans had known them, a birthday gift hundreds of years old granted by her lover. Without a word she drew the garish face that would open the portal, tossed the entire carton on the drawing, cleared her throat, and all but shouted, "Maloso vobiscum et cum spiritum!"
There was an unholy groaning noise as the bounds of reality cracked and warped, tearing open a gateway between Ooo and dimension that was never meant for mortal eyes. Heat and the scent of sulfur bled through a fissure just big enough for Bonnibel to squeeze through, beckoning her in. With a steadying breath she secured her bag, glanced over her shoulder towards Peppermint Butler and, against his protests that he should go first for her own security, crossed the threshold into a world of madness and chaos. To say he was cross would be an understatement, but what could he do but follow? With a sigh he straightened his tie and stepped after his liege.
Through some small miracle the portal terminated just inside the Citadel's foyeur, where no demon would dare strike against them. For a brief moment Bonnibel was tempted to check the time before remembering why such an endeavor would be pointless; after all, time didn't exist in the Nightosphere. It was as it had always been, at least according to Hunson. No sooner had Bonnibel most loyal servant emerged the portal snapped shut, leaving the dimension seamless once more. Before she could set foot into the Citadel's interior Bonnibel found herself politely halted by her companion. "A moment before we go in Your Majesty."
The princess watched him warily. He knew how important this meeting was to her, how long she had been waiting for it. She was never late for anything in her life, why should she start with this?
No time in the Nightosphere, Bon. I'd listen to the weenie, he knows what's up.
A valid point, though it was almost disorienting to hear something in Marceline's voice compliment Peppermint Butler, even if that voice was just a manifestation of her own subconscious. Maybe one day it'll happen for real. She could feel he derisive snort in the back of her mind but chose to ignore it. She was allowed to have dreams. "What is it, Pep?"
Peppermint Butler looked over his shoulder, just to be sure no one was listening or watching or doing anything else stupid, before returning to his creator. "What is your intention?"
Now she bristled, even if it only momentarily. She could feel Princess Bubblegum's ire at such a personal question being so bluntly demanded by a servant, even if that servant was Peppermint. In the back of her mind she could hear Rechte whisper a reminded that in the Nightosphere those deliciously dark parts of psyches were fed and empowered, and without Marceline there to temper her it would take concentrated effort for Bonnibel to repress her own sociopathic traits. Regardless, it is a very personal question and it is one above his station. He knows better than this!
Yeah, so… pretty telling that he's asking. How about you just see where this goes before you go all psycho on him? He's been with you for a bazillion years, he knows the what up and how you do stuff. If he's asking maybe he's got a good reason.
Insubordination is hardly a good reason, Rechte. But she was right; it would be highly unlike her butler to be so nosy without just cause. It would be most fair to ascertain the cause before I act rashly I suppose.
Remember, you're here for Marce. You gotta keep this under control. What if she calls you and you're like this? Just think about her, okay?
Yes, she could do that, but she found that her thoughts strayed from her intended memories. Focusing on her lover was a good idea; her music, her laughter, her touch, they were all cemented inside of her mind and soul over centuries of exposure… but so were her submission, her easily manipulated rage, and what a tactical mastermind she could become if she just let herself-
Rechte saw where this was going a mile away. We gotta work on you admitting you still have a thing for Lady Evil when we get home. You keep denying it this is just gonna get worse.
There was so much to unpack from that statement and Bonnibel didn't have the energy or desire. The fact remained that while she tried to focus on Marceline the imp, the punk rocker, her mate, something deep within the candy golem kept veering off topic, kept remembering the predatory look in her dark garnet eyes whenever she killed a hapless demon and presented the younger woman with the corpse as a trophy, kept remembering how beautiful she looked so willingly wrapped around her little finger, what a tactical marvel she could become if-
The slap roused her and her hand came to her cheek just as Peppermint Butler straightened himself. "I apologize, Your Majesty, but you looked like you needed that." Rechte snickered from the back of her mind and Bonnibel refused to dignify that either. But he had her attention and that was all that mattered for the moment. "Your Highness, I understand demons and the Nightosphere more than you do. I want to help you. It's my purpose. If you tell me your intention I can help you achieve it."
Later, back in Ooo, Bonnibel would realize that her butler had purposefully changed the way he addressed her, focusing on strategy and phrasing his inquiries and suggestions into the form of battle strategies. She would be impressed. "Yes. I want to discuss my relationship with Marceline, namely my position as her mate." He raised an eyebrow. "Over the course of the past few months, beginning with my journey to retrieve Marceline from her mind, it has become abundantly clear that demon courtship is more complex than I initially understood. It has its own language and rules, and I understand neither. Marcy has spent our relationship relaying to me in a language I understand, and now I want to convey my bond with her in a way she does."
This almost seemed to amuse him. Almost. Instead, it came out as worried skepticism. "And you intend to ask her father for information?"
He sounded disbelieving and she didn't care. "Yes."
His frown suggested that he didn't know how to break some inconvenient truth to her, but his eyes betrayed that he would find a way. "Your Highness… have you ever wondered why it is that demons continue to assault you despite your relationship with Miss Abadeer being common knowledge? Or why Hunson allowed this meeting but provided no escort to assure your safety?"
"I assumed it's because most demons are instinctive, and because Hunson is displeased with me respectively."
"Well, yes. All demons are instinctive, Miss Abadeer is no different, even if being a hybrid softens the blow." His tone didn't soften but it did mimic her own, the one she used when she lectured not to hear herself talk but because she cared. "Your Majesty, demons value strength and ferocity. Hunson is Lord of Evil for a reason, and it's because he's sadistic and has the power to back it up. Miss Abadeer may rival him in strength in many regards, but to these demons you do not share her power. You are not her, and even though you and I both know you are far more dangerous than she is they do not. You look weak to them."
That sparked a memory in her mind, an inconsistency, and oh how she hated inconsistencies. "I thought demon courtship meant that two demons were effectively the same person?"
He sighed her tired sigh. In retrospect he had been expecting this. "It's… a little more than that, but the first problem is that you're not a demon. Her soul can pick you but yours can't pick her. To demons she's…"
Now he hesitated, a genuine hesitation, almost nervous. Her eyes narrowed in challenge, in a glare, and he gulped. "She's what, Pep." Not a question.
He chose his next words very carefully. "...To most demons she's pathetic, Your Majesty." He could see the well-controlled rage building not in Bonnibel's eyes, but in Princess Bubblegum's. "Courtship occurs when two demons share a soulbond. You are incapable of this. They don't care why your soul didn't pick her, only that it didn't. In this culture it''s as if Miss Abadeer was rejected but chooses to follow you around anyway, fulfilling all of the roles and duties her soul would like to fulfill, but without any of the reciprocation. The second most powerful being in the Nightosphere stricken with unrequited love, and rather than accept it she follows you around like a pet."
"...They think she's pathetic." Her voice had flattened under the weight of her budding fury. "Is that why she periodically comes back here, and why she returns home covered in blood?"
"To a demon might makes right, so it wouldn't surprise me if she comes back just to assert her own power. I don't know, though. Miss Abadeer has been estranged from her father far longer than I've caddied for him, and despite how much better they have been these last few years he still sees both of you as separate, autonomous individuals."
Something told the princess that almost getting her lover killed certainly wasn't helping his opinion of her, but that wasn't her concern at the moment. Instead Bonnibel's mind turned Peppermint Butler's claims over, under, inside out, threw it up in the air only to let it crash on the ground to see how well it stood up to punishment. In the end, it made too much sense for her to tear apart and instead she began to ponder the implication. What must it feel like for Marcy to not feel a bond be reciprocated? Does it hurt? Is it something she can feel, or is just symbolic? In the back of her mind she could feel the urge to experiment begin to bud, only to be ripped apart at the root. Evidently even Princess Bubblegum had limits. Now, at least. "Be that as it may, Pep, I still need to talk to him. He's a demon whose mate was a human. He might have insight I can use."
"Use to do what?"
Her hand clutched the bag's cloth. "She loves me, Pep. She's wrong, but she can't help it, and it leaves me with three options. I can ignore it and let this continue, I can sever our connection and let that part of her soul die as she once indicated as a possibility, or I can find a way to show her that I do return her feelings, even if it's using a different but comparable courtship technique. I can't do either of those first options. They're out of the question. That only leaves finding something that can have meaning, even if it isn't what's traditional." Princess Bubblegum matched his stare with her own. "I've already lost her once. I'm not losing her again. She's mine, and that makes her my responsibility. If I'm going to enjoy the benefits I must be willing to sacrifice for them."
With that she pressed into the Citadel, listening as her footsteps echoed, as Peppermint Butler hustled to catch up to her. There were more questions she wanted to ask her servant, more that both she and her role needed to know. After all, the Nightosphere constituted a foreign kingdom, Hunson Abadeer a foreign ruler. It paid to know about your cohort kingdoms, especially one so bizarre as this one. What happened to demons whose soul bonds were unrequited? How did they demonstrate one in the first place? But these were questions she had to hear from Hunson himself, because as informed as her butler was he was no more a demon than she herself, and this was too important to rely on information that had any risk of being faulty. Second-hand information wouldn't suffice.
Lost in thought, she meandered through the Citadel's halls on muscle memory alone, stopping before Hunson's office without meaning to. When she lifted her hand to knock Peppermint Butler cleared his throat and she turned to him, stilled. "Yes?"
"You are the princess of the Candy Kingdom, Your Majesty. You do not present yourself. I present you." He almost seemed to be smirking now, and she had to wonder if it was something he picked up from Marceline over their centuries of squabbling. "Might makes right, as you said. If you want Hunson to see you as strong and worth his assistance you must display your strength."
My strength, she thought coldly. My strength is what almost got Marcy killed. It's what turned Tyrant so blindly submissive, Usurper so filled with rage. It created rule after rule to govern her life to the point that she was effectively an extension of my will.
Yeah, Rechte calmly agreed. But you used it whenever you could before 'cause when you wear your crown you kinda turn into a crazy-pants. You know better now, though. You can tear people or even kingdoms apart and demolish all your enemies with pretty much no recourse, but now you know what it's like to lose Marceline and you can see how all this happened, right? Your crown's a weapon, but it can be a shield too. You just gotta take all those sharp pointy parts of yours and combine them with those squishy heartguts feelings.
An amalgamation, she mused.
Yeah, that. You're Bonnibel, but you're Princess Bubblegum, too. You don't need to keep part of you locked in a box forever, you just gotta learn when to let her out. Now's a good time. You're mad scary when you're in princess-mode. Represent.
It made sense. Objectively speaking Bonnibel knew she was a force to be reckoned with. After all, Marceline wasn't the only reason she rose to power and maintained her position for five hundred years, and even Usurper had admitted an attraction to her when she demolished enemies. She was a machinator through and through, capable of sewing life into existence and embedding her will into her creation in one fell swoop. The candy golem looked down to her free hand, remembering every creature it ever manufactured, every parchment it ever signed, every territory it ever annexed. How many times had that hand slid her crown onto its rightful place? Been clothed in a glove to protect it from its owner's experiments and scientific wiles? Yes, it made sense, because Princess Bubblegum was relentless and had little regard for whatever got in her way when she had a goal, her imprisonment of Phoebe when she was a mere ember was proof enough of that. Now her goal was clear: she wanted her vampire, her queen, and as much as she respected her lover's father he had information she needed. She had planned to come as his daughter's mate. If she had to come as a fellow dignitary instead by all means.
"Let's go, Pep." Her tone was calm now, as steady as Princess Bubblegum's ever was before an important meeting. Peppermint Butler approved wholeheartedly, and as his liege looked on he knocked thrice on the heavy door, waiting for it to crack open to reveal not Hunson, but someone quite unwelcomed. "Jan."
Her voice was ice and the small demon winced before turning to address- "Sir, your appointment is here." There was a muffled sound behind him and the door opened, too slowly for Peppermint Butler's taste.
With practiced grace he strode into the room, Bonnibel following after him. Once the servant found Hunson Abadeer, seated behind his desk, of course, he cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. "I present Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum of the Candy Kingdom." When he stepped aside to allow his royal entrance Bonnibel didn't bother to look around the room, to Jan, or anywhere other than her target: her mate's father, who had an eyebrow raised at the spectacle. In the back of her mind the candy golem hoped that was a good sign, but the thought lived only in the back of her mind. The rules of engagement in the Nightosphere may be different than in Ooo but some things would never change, chief among them the need to show no fear, no intimidation, no distraction, nothing but an air of control.
By the demon's posture, by his insistence on rising upon her entrance, he seemed to be just as well-versed. "It's wonderful to see you again. Please, come in and have a seat." He didn't need to gesture to indicate the dual black, plain chairs in front of his desk.
The door closed behind her - Jan's doing, she assumed - and she strolled to the desk, grasped the demon's hand firmly, albeit briefly, then slid into her seat. Only then did Peppermint Butler join her, and only at the silent gesture of her hand that he should. "Thank you for meeting with me."
Once she sat comfortably Hunson returned to his own chair, his own throne. "This is unusual, but I'm a fan of things being novel. Should I assume this is about Marceline?"
Right to the chase. Well, it made sense; discussing her queen often made Bonnibel anxious as well, if not for very different reasons. "Yes. I come to ask for your insight."
Hunson nodded, leaning back in his chair. "I see. How is Marceline?"
A touch of affection, but only just that, the rest of the tone was all business. Was that an indication of how he was perceiving Bonnibel? What did it mean? "She's recovering, but slowly. After we last saw you Marceline decided that the best course of action would be to learn to control her fire. In time she'll gain control over her bloodlust and other demonic traits as well, but for now she, Finn, and Jake have taken to the Fire Kingdom to give her adequate space."
Was that a frown at the words 'Fire Kingdom'? Phoebe did say demons who escape the Nightosphere tend to land on her doorstep. Perhaps there's no love loss there. What an interesting thought. Especially after that whole debacle of Phoebe revealing that her father had originally intended to betrothe her to Marceline to cement an alliance with the Nightosphere. She began to seethe again at the reminder.
We've been over this, Bon, Rechte groaned. It'd never happen for like a bajillion reasons. Even when you were a mega psycho Marceline's never had eyes for anyone but you. I mean, yeah, that thing with Ash happened, but you knew that was never going to be serious. Phoebe's not interested in ladies, and Marceline's always been interested in you.
Be that as it may-
"I'd rather she practice here-" 'with her own kind' being strongly implied "-but I'm relieved to hear that she's starting to accept who she is."
Internally, Bonnibel took a deep, steadying breath. Externally Princess Bubblegum only watched impassively. "Yes. I think it's better for both her physical and psychological health for her to at least come to terms with her abilities. It's that same vein of thought that brings me here today." A practiced pause, just to gauge the man's interest. There was a spark in his eyes, a curiosity, but it wasn't fierce or driving. The young scientist knew she only had his attention by virtue of Marceline being the topic, but if Peppermint Butler was to be believed that would only last for so long on its own. She would need to convince him that he not only could but should help her, and she would need to do it immediately. Step one: she needed his attention. "Throughout this ordeal it's become painfully evident to me that I have been an inadequate mate for Marceline. If she's making this much of an effort into understanding her demonic heritage it only makes logical sense for me to make an effort into understanding my place in it."
"For her sake or because of an anthropological curiosity?"
Apparently biting sarcasm was genetic, even if the vampire hadn't been gifted with Hunson's ability to say it with a straight-face. But then… Lady Evil was, wasn't she? A cough in the back of her mind reminded her that she would have to have a serious conversation with herself about why all roads seemed to lead back to the manifestation of her lover's despair. "It would be inaccurate to say that studying the Nightosphere isn't an interest of mine. There is very little in the way of records about your home or your people, and it would give me a significant tactical advantage to be the one Ooo resident, save for Marceline herself, to be the knowledge's keeper. However, that isn't why I'm here." Another pause, another chance to watch the man. "Marceline's soul chose me, and this dimension is part of her. She's half-demon but whereas I once assumed she didn't know about her culture I now understand she merely hid it from me. Whether she's comfortable with the idea or not I am now part of this culture, but regrettably I have only a cursory understanding."
Hunson watched her, expression not quite blank, but close. "Have you tried asking her?"
Bonnibel frowned, Princess Bubblegum didn't. Well, she didn't expect him to make this easy. "While that would traditionally be the best course of action I do not suspect she would be forthright with the information I require. She's spent much of our time together keeping me away from this half of her-" or vice versa "-and I should have made a bigger effort to respectfully breaching that wall for the sake of our relationship."
"So you want me to fill in the blanks you left behind?"
Was that a question? Well, it was an opening at the very least. "I have only met two demons who have not at some point tried to kill me. One is her, and you are the other. You are also the only demon I know of who had a mate that wasn't a demon. You have vital insight I can use to be a worthy of Marceline. I don't possess enough knowledge to be successful on my own merit." Yet.
Hunson's stare was hard now, hard but not cruel. He was clearly considering his options, weighing the pros and cons of each. On the one hand he hadn't exactly hid his dislike of Bonnibel, not since he had found out that she had effectively tricked his only child into almost dying. He was under no obligation, not even a familial one, to help her even if it did help his daughter by extension. After all, what proof did Bonnibel have that she was being sincere? This was the fourth time the two had met, and half of the times they'd been in the same room Marceline had been grievously injured in some way. In some way that was her fault. Princess Bubblegum's intentions could be genuine, but he had no hard evidence that any information revealed wouldn't be used against Marceline.
As Hunson's sharp eyes followed her movements the princess pulled up her bag, reaching inside of it. "I take my position in your daughter's life with grave seriousness. I know you are under no obligation to aid me, but I trust you understand we share a common goal. Whether or not Marcy ultimately chooses to have a formal role in the Nightosphere she can no longer run from her bloodline. This can only help not only by making her more comfortable with her heritage but by showing her how her two worlds can co-exist."
"It also cements your position in your life. Pretty advantageous if you know more than she does."
Ouch. Not that he was wrong, even if it wasn't Bonnibel's intention. "You're right. It does give me an advantage, but my goal is clear. And out of respect for your position not only in her life, but as the de facto ruler of the Nightosphere I present you with a gift." Without breaking eye contact she slid the flat black box onto the table and pulled her hand back, settling once more in her chair.
Now the man was visibly curious, though not about the box's contents. "A bribe?," he asked, amused.
Bonnibel shook her head. "No. Only a token of respect from one governing entity to another. It's Marceline's first album. The first CD she ever produced. She gave it to me, now I give it to you."
Hunson had to admit that it was a good answer. He did so by sighing, not by opening it. That would be bad form, of course. "What do you know so far?"
It wasn't an indication the demon would help her, but it wasn't a dismissal either. As distasteful as the patronizing statement was she'd take it. "I know that demons do not consciously select mates. Their souls picks for them, and once a selection is made it cannot be unmade and can only be done once. Marceline has described the sensation of knowing one's other half when you see it, emphasizing that this description is literal. She's indicated that it's a physical sensation, but as I am not a demon I can never return it. That's where I believe she's wrong."
Hunson frowned, resting his cheek on his fist. "That's a little simple, but more or less true."
A nudge from Rechte revealed that she had forgotten one key detail. "While inside of her mind a piece of Marceline mentioned another aspect of demon courtship. I believe she called it an offering?"
Those seemed to be the magic words and he lifted his head to match her look with his own, her determination with his. "Yes," he began reluctantly, "the offering is the most important aspect of demon courtship. I'm a bit relieved to hear that Marceline remembered that, even when she was that hurt." It made sense to Bonnibel. How long had Hunson been trying to convince his daughter to embrace her heritage? Granted, he had mostly been trying to convince her to take over the family business, but it still had to be a relief in its own small way that she retained something of her bloodline's traditions, so much so that it even survived her mind's sundering.
"What is an offering?" It took effort not to emphasize that she actually did want him to continue with the point. Now was not the time to be making enemies, nor was he the man to make an enemy with.
Hunson drummed his fingers on his desk as he considered the best way to explain this concept to a non-demon. He had only needed to do so once before, to his own mate. Even when the time came in her life for Marceline to understand this part of demon life it hadn't really been as much of a conversation and so much as him confirming that her instincts about what she should be doing were correct. In retrospect, he wished he had saw fit to ask who those instincts were directed towards before such an individual almost got her killed. Twice. "Strength, whether it's physical power, intelligence, ferocity, or anything else, is the most valuable trait a demon can possess. Since our souls pick mates for us the offering proves that you have something to give back. The soul of the demon you pick may not pick you, so it's a way of declaring that you have something of value."
"An incentive to consolidate your resources." He raised an eyebrow, but neither agreed nor disagreed. It only encouraged her. "Is it a physical object? A task? How is value measured to a demon?"
Now he shrugged, but it was less of a carefree gesture and more of a dismissal. They both knew exactly why she was asking, and he had no intention of doing the work for her. "There's no one way to do it, but the one thing every offer shares is that it weakens the giver."
That gave Bonnibel pause. It just seemed counter-intuitive. "But if demons value strength why…" She trailed off as her mind quickly put the pieces together. "You're showing that you value the other demon more than strength, and that you can handicap yourself but still be powerful?"
Hunson nodded, all at once strangely solemn. "It shows how much you have to give and how far you're willing to go in your devotion. Our souls only pick one mate, so we only have one chance to make our case. We may need to kill other demons if their souls also picked the same potential mate, and if we aren't chosen there goes that chance."
The princess leaned back in her chair, wondering if Hunson possessed Marceline's acute sense of hearing. If he could sense how quickly her heart was beating. "A harsh way of living that assures only the strongest of mind and body survive. What happens to the rejects?" Hunson almost seemed to smirk at the word 'reject'. It must seem comical to him. After all, he was successful, wasn't he? Or is he exempt from such compulsions?
"Some pair up together, or live in groups. They usually don't survive long for whatever reason or another."
There was more to it, Bonnibel knew there was, but as curious as she was now was not the time. She had a specific goal in mind and this part, this fact-finding mission, was only the first step. "I see. So demon courtship requires one demon weaken themselves to prove their value as a potential mate. What happens if the offer is accepted?"
Hunson nodded as he pondered that question. "Well," he began after a moment of consideration, "if an offer is accepted than the souls bind to one another, and the recipient makes an offer of their own. Usually it's just as harmsome if not more, to prove that the sacrifice is valued and the demon offering it is worthy of their own gift on their own merit. It's not strictly required, but it's expected and doing so cements the union."
"It can't be undone?"
The demon seemed to ponder that one, as if he had never been asked that question before. "It can, but it would take something pretty serious to do it. It's been a few thousands years since it's last happened." He scratched his chin as he mulled that over. "Hm. Can't even remember how nowadays!," he chuckled suddenly.
The young scientist wasn't sure whether that was meant to be encouraging, discouraging, or whether a being who was arguably a Cosmic Entity really couldn't remember. Regardless, she had what she needed, and it did nothing to dissuade her. "I see. Thank you, Hunson. I appreciate your time and for your assistance."
So you're really going to do it, huh? Even after hearing all of that?
Yes, Rechte. This is how I prove myself. She and I are the strongest beings in Ooo and I will use that strength for her, rather than against her.
You're-
"-planning to make her an offer, aren't you?" There was no question mark in Hunson's voice, or in his eyes. It was a courtesy, nothing more.
"Yes. I've had an idea for some months now, and I know it to be the right choice."
"Do you know how you're going to do it? Practically speaking."
"No." Hunson looked surprised, not only by the answer but by how unabashed she was by it. "That's only a temporary setback, and the next step is for me to rectify it. I'm going to-"
He held up his hand and she stopped. "I appreciate the thought, but regardless of my feelings on the matter this is between you and Marceline. It's too personal for her uncool dad to know about, and if I didn't get involved in raising her I should at least give her the space to choose or reject your offer herself." Bonnibel watched the demon hunch over, listened to the sound of a drawer opening and closing, unsure whether or not she dare hope he was going to help her. When he straightened a small box, seemingly made of the same material as the office door, sat in his palm.
"You were wrong about one thing: there are records about the Nightosphere and everything within it… if you know where to look." The box was sat on his desk and his hand rested over it. Only when the young immortal tore herself away from it to look back to the man did he continue.
"I won't tell you how to create your offering, but I will help you find the information for yourself." Now his eye flicked to Jan, still standing so obediently in the corner. The demon easily caught the message and straightened, unable to comprehend what was happening before him but knowing better than to dare say as much. He just wasn't that high on the food chain. "In the catacombs of the Citadel there is a library, where Jan will escort you and Peppermint. You are welcomed to seek your answers there."
Bonnibel was floored. There was a library? An honest to goodness library, filled with information on a dimension almost no one knew existed, information that she was being allowed access to? Sure, she'd have to peruse untold stacks and piles to find it, and she doubted a dark, dusty room, however large or small, would make it easy for her. But this was knowledge no Ooo resident would have but her. Think of the strategic advantage this affords me!
But then… why was Peppermint Butler glaring at Hunson Abadeer?
"You always did enjoy weird punishments." Bonnibel came down from her high, eyeing her esteemed butler, but her butler wasn't looked at her. He was looking at Hunson. "Demons do not speak, read, or write in our language, Your Majesty, and Demonic has been known to drive mortals insane."
Granted, she was not a mortal, but the sentiment stood and her heart fell. Butter brittle, he's right. Very well, I'll just take the tomes back with me and-
Hunson gave a smile to his caddie. "I do, and I'll enjoy watching this play out, but I'm going to make things a bit fairer."
"Because if Miss Abadeer discovers you have been toying with Her Highness she'll be cross enough to come down here herself?"
The demon chortled, caught. "I don't want to get on my little monster's bad side. She definitely has my temper." As his head shook his laugh faded and in its place came a smile, something almost sad. Bonnibel had seen Marceline wear that same smile, when she was trying very hard to remind herself that some memory was happy, and that the pain it was inflicting was the price for that happiness. "I'm going to let you borrow something. It's the offer I made for Marceline's mother." As the box was opened and its occupant roused out, held to her eye level in all of its glory, Bonnibel's eyes widened. She had seen this object before. Not in real life, no, but in Marceline's mind, in the shoe box so helpfully labeled 'moral code'. It was exactly like it was in her mind: a forest green and blood red triangle, seemingly carved from some cold stone with a circle bored from the center. It nestled perfectly in Bonnibel's palm, and if she didn't know any better she could have sworn that while the rest of the artifact was cold the inside of the circle was warm. A defier of physics. It seemed to run in the family. "Do you remember what I told you and Marceline about bridges between worlds?" She nodded to him, and he nodded to the artifact. "I made one for her. It bridges both of our worlds, and it allowed her to read my language. The one Peppermint calls Demonic."
A bridge. That was part of her moral code. Being part of two worlds, and wanting to keep them connected. Some part of her that wasn't Rechte reminded her to focus and she shoved down the sudden sentiment. It would be nice to visit, but later. Right now she needed to focus on the task at hand, because as enriching as this - all of this - was the young immortal scientist was on a time limit, and she wasn't sure exactly how long it was going to take her to not only find what she needed, but to implement her plan. "...Thank you, Hunson," she said with every bit of humility.
He nodded, standing from his desk. "I think you have a task to complete. Jan will show you the way. When you're finished he'll escort you back to the portal. Return my possession to me before you return to Ooo, thank you." It wasn't a request.
Princess Bubblegum nodded, standing. "Of course. Thank you, Hunson," she repeated, taking his offered hand. He nodded in response, following the young woman to his door, who in turn followed Peppermint Butler. After all, a powerful monarch hardly engaged in such common trivialities as opening doors for herself. As her bowed to the demon, prepared to thank him for his time Bonnibel tapped her chin. He knew that gesture: she was up to something. "I may be a bit forward, Hunson, and I apologize if so. Marceline's mother… did she follow your customs and return your offer?"
Hunson offered her a strange look, one that simultaneously said 'yes, that's forward' and 'isn't it obvious?', and at first Bonnibel wasn't sure he was going to respond any further than that pointed look. But something caught his eye, someone round and striped, and he knew his caddie was imploring him to help his liege, thereby helping him. The man may have had a low opinion of the princess but his high opinion of Peppermint Butler narrowly edged out a victory for the pair of surface dwellers. "I have the multiverse's coolest daughter, strong enough to survive the apocalypse without her old man and thrive in a world of chaos."
Bonnibel felt something in her, something like pride, something like gratitude, something like humbleness. She gave him a daughter… who arguably should not have been capable of surviving for as long as she has and as intact as she is. Odd how an offering to the Lord of Evil himself could lend itself to such positivity. Marceline may be chaotic in her own way but she was certainly un-evil, and her music and presence had surely made Ooo a better place, even if she was hard-pressed to admit herself anything than 'the punkest'. As uncomfortable as the princess was at the idea of her lover being an 'offering' she understand the importance of the gesture, of how her mother had defied what was reasonable and good for love. Now it's time for me to do the same. Perhaps one day Princess Bubblegum would find a way to persuade Death into letting her meet this woman. She would be proud of you, Marcy. I'm certain of it. Not that she would ever dare voice this opinion to the vampire; for as long as she had known her queen the subject of her mother had remained touchy, even off-limits. Even Bonnibel wasn't privy to the circumstances surrounding her disappearance from Marceline's life. Had she died? Mutated? Gone mad? Bonnibel almost let it slip, almost asked Hunson, but she was pushing her luck as it was.
Hey. When Marceline's ready she'll tell you.
Reluctantly, Bonnibel agreed with her subconscious. In the old days, before this travesty, Princess Bubblegum had secretly taken personal offense to the musician's outright refusal to reveal the fine details of her life after her mother but before Simon found her. Now Bonnibel understood that, like when she ran during emotional discussi- no… emotional fights, this was a specific behavior meant to protect a wound that she simply wasn't ready to expose. Not even to her. Yes. One day she'll be ready, and I'll be there to help her through it. Today was not that day. Tomorrow didn't seem likely either. Instead- "Thank you." Not wanting to overstay her welcome she finally followed Peppermint Butler out of the office, Jan reluctantly following before closing the door and leaving his boss to his thoughts. Peppermint Butler eyed his princess as Jan even more reluctantly took the lead. Did he like trusting the demon? No, but it was hard to argue against his loyalty to his Lord. After all, here he was still of-so-obedient, even after being gravely injured by Marceline and watching her destroy a third of his home.
Bonnibel watched the architecture of the Citadel change as the trio progressed. It was an area of the building she had never seen before, and judging by how on edge her butler was he hadn't either. Around a corner, up a flight of stairs, down another flight of stairs, through an archway that seemed to hum for some odd reason, past numerous closed doors - all identical - before the demon stopped before one that appeared to the uninformed as random. With a grumble he pushed it forward and no sooner had the three passed the entrance the scenery began to change. Whereas the walls of the Citadel were smooth and warm the hallway they descended down seemed as if carved into stone. No longer warm the walls were cool to touch, and while they didn't seem as hard as whatever it was Hunson's palace was comprised of they were still plenty durable. Jagged and ancient-looking, the deeper they went the more uneasy Bonnibel found herself. It was as if the corridor itself oozed a malicious influence, as if it were sentient and wanted the three - or at least her, Peppermint Butler seemed unphased - to leave immediately and take her plans with her.
Bonnibel was more stubborn than the walls, but it didn't stop the sensation of being watched, didn't stop some unfamiliar sensation rise not in her stomach but in the back of her mind. With a whisper from Rechte she realized it was true anxiety, something she almost never felt, not anymore, not since before the crown. Her fingers twitched with the urge to retrieve it from her bag. Surely a royal gem would protect her from the dimension's influence, surely it would be a stark reminder of her authority and power. Nevertheless she resisted; now was not the time nor the place to tout her royal blood or toot her horn. She was here as Marceline's mate, not as the princess of Ooo's arguably most powerful kingdom. The weight in her palm reminded her of that.
As their journey took them deeper still the walls began to change. No longer just jagged rock skulls of all sorts adorned the stone, embedded straight into it. Despite Princess Bubblegum's familiarity with gore and death it was jarring. Catacombs indeed. Each was of different size and shape, but all smooth and clean. It was impossible to determine their age, but then time didn't pass in the Nightosphere so she supposed it was a moot point. The more they passed the more fascinated the scientist found herself and now there was a new itch: the urge to study these creatures. One little question can't hurt. "Jan, why are these skulls here?"
The demon sighed and over-dramatic sigh and behind him Peppermint Butler glared. "They're demons that served in the Citadel. Hunson keeps their skulls here."
"Why?"
He rolled his eye. "Because he's a weird guy."
Surely there's some real purpose. "Is it a way of honoring them, or their service?"
He looked over his shoulder, resisting the urge to say something too snarky. Regardless of whether or not Marceline was around he knew better than to mouth off to the pink woman. She had power all of her own, even he could sense that. No one created and maintained a massive kingdom by accident, and he'd heard hundreds of stories about her exploits and talents from his lord's daughter over the years. Were some embellished? Most certainly. But there was at least a grain of truth in them, and he was unwilling to find out for himself how big a grain it was. Still. "Do you keep the skulls of your servants when they die?"
Actually… "Most of my servants don't possess skulls." There. A perfectly acceptable, non-incriminating evasion.
Jan coughed derisively before catching himself. "Look, Hunson is sadistic. There are laws in the Nightosphere but he made them. It's the worst kind of evil and he loves it. You can try to figure out why he does things but he just does. Maybe it's got a purpose, maybe not, but you don't survive here by asking questions. You just do what you're ordered to do and hope your orders don't contradict each other, okay?"
Fair enough.
Before Bonnibel could press him further the trio came upon a new door. Unlike the others, which were all solid black and seemed to be made of wood this one was tan and splintered. Whereas the rest of the doors featured rounded entrances this was tapered at the top, forming a point that allowed only one entrant at a time. Across the door was a bar that appeared to be iron, engraved with a design that caused a slow, pounding headache to form in the back of her mind. Is this… Demonic? Quickly she brought the small triangle to her eye, running it across the text. Just as Hunson had asserted the script became legible.
Anfangen ist leicht, beharren eine Kunst
Bonnibel's lips pursed into a fine line as her eyes narrowed. Peppermint Butler noticed the change in demeanor immediately, but try as he might he couldn't discern any possible cause. That worried him immensely. Jan, oblivious to the candy golem's seething, nodded to the iron plaque. "That's new. Marceline put it up. Weird, but you don't really question when she does stuff if you wanna keep your life and limbs."
That only made things worse. "When did she install this, Jan?"
The small demon almost reminded her that time had no meaning in the Nightosphere, but when he turned to face her he finally registered that her face had hardened, her back had stiffened, and the hand not clenching his Lord's most treasured possession was clenched hard enough to turn the knuckles white. "Uh… after she decided to stay in her room. When you surface dwellers dropped her off. Not sure when after but-"
He kept talking, but Bonnibel wasn't listening. This was just too familiar. After all, who else did she know who had a propensity to leave taunting messages, who else played mind games, who else profited from-
Easy Bon. We don't know for sure-
This is Lady Evil's influence. She did this, just like in the mindscape. She's toying with me. She knew I'd find my way here and now she's-
Bon. Easy. Rechte's voice was firm, but understanding. Look, for real it probably is her influence. I don't think Marceline's ever gonna be rid of her. Not forevs anyway. She's the oldest part of her. But serially, even if it is her don't let her bait you. You came down here with a mission, right?
She's encouraging the mission!
So you doubting it now that you think she actually wants it to happen? You think she actually predicted what it is you're gonna do? 'Cause she's smart but she's not all-knowing, Bon.
She doesn't need to be. She only needs to count on me acting.
I think you're being a little bit paranoid, BonBon, Rechte whispered, utterly disbelieving.
Maybe, but Princess Bubblegum's paranoia had served her well many times in the past and she was unwilling to gamble that she was wrong this time. After all, Lady Evil herself had blatantly stated that she possessed the capability and the propensity to influence Marceline's thoughts and behavior in subtle ways. A giant iron bar may not be subtle, but it was a combination of two established behaviors: her lover's desire to mark things she declared her own and her enjoyment of pranks and general mischief. If she was right - and Bonnibel was certain she was - this was a calculated and cunning manipulation, impressive in its simplicity, a declaration of the demon's influence all while providing the princess with an almost contemptuous encouragement.
Maybe Princess Bubblegum was a little attracted to her.
The first step is admitting it. Rechte radiated a smirk.
"Let's go, Jan."
The demon sighed but obediently turned to the bar. With a deep breath he wedged himself under it, lifted, pushed, grunted, pushed again. Then there was the clatter of iron on stone and the door was free. "Alright, so here's the deal. I'm gonna sit in the corner and mind my own business. You two do whatever it is you're trying to do, but I can't leave until you're done 'cause if I don't bring back Hunson's thing… well, there's worse things than dying, trust me, I know."
The royal didn't need to imagine, she had inflicted many of those things herself on others. She nodded her permission to Peppermint Butler, who in turn gave a little bow before pushing open the door. Jan slid through first, much to the servant's ire, and after he successfully crossed Bonnibel followed. Once she was in the room proper she stopped short, staring in awe. "Oh, my…" She had assumed, based on preconceived notions of demon culture, that the 'library' would be small, dusty, perhaps lacking in the way of knowledge. How very, very wrong she was, because in contrast to the rest of the Citadel the library was beautiful, beautiful and ancient and oh so full of precious books. As Jan mumbled his departure Bonnibel ignored him, too enraptured by the sight before her.
The floor was a dark brown wood - honest to goodness wood - set in long planks. Lovingly tended to, there wasn't a spec of dirt or staining, even if the material was worn down through years of feet or whatever it was demons had. The walls were made of wood as well, lighter and comprised of panels. Banners and scrolls decorated the walls, all in a language Bonnibel could not read, but equally gingerly cared for by some unknown entity. Between each panel were deep recesses the width of her arm that seemed decorative; with a start the scientist realized that this was the first indication of anything truly decorative she had yet seen in the entirety of the Nightosphere. The wood looked smooth and finely sanded, and unlike the floor it did not show its age.
The main stars of the room, though, were the shelves. There were perhaps a dozen massive bookshelves, much taller than the princess, made of the same wood as the walls, double-sided, all stuffed with giant tomes. The spines faced inwards making the titles impossible to read, even if she could. It left the corners bare, and attached to each upper right side of each cover there was a circular hook attached, each made of iron, or at least what looked like it. The hooks were attached to massive chains, which in turn connected to large anchors at the top of each case. Most of the tome pages were yellowed or even brown, signs of their age. Did these come from the surface world? Is it decoration? No matter for now, there was still so much to see.
While the spines were hidden each shelf's side featured a parchment with even more text the princess couldn't read, presumably a list of the shelf's contents. Each paper that the monarch could see was securely locked in a glass case surrounded by an iron frame, protecting them from vandals. Below each frame, on either side of the shelf, sat a massive iron keyhole, and in between every shelf lay a long wooden table, complete with benches.
Also complete with demons.
As the door closed several - all different shapes and sizes - glanced up at the newcomers, setting the scientist immediately on edge. Her hand immediately shot into her bag for either the knife or the gun - it didn't matter which - but to her confusion each slowly turned away from her and back to the books in front of them. Are they… reading? She squinted, and to her shock they were: every demon sat before a book held decorative pointers which trailed the pages, following their holder's eyes. They are reading! ...Demons know how to read? The candy woman mentally shoved that mental tidbit away for further study.
The library may not have been as large as her own, but Bonnibel was dumbstruck all the same. Her awe was interrupted by her most loyal subject, who politely cleared his throat. When one demon looked up and glared the mint glared back, taking his mistress's hand and pulling her behind a heavy shelf to muffle their discussion. "Your Majesty," he started softly, "do you have a plan or are you here to shop for ideas?"
"Oh, I have a plan," Bonnibel whispered, eyes still scanning the room in wonder. "I've been thinking about this for a long time." Now she turned to him, away from the fun of visual exploration. She needed her servant to understand what was about to happen because while he was her servant she respected him and his opinion. When she had abdicated her throne he had been the only one of her creations to stand by her, and though he was loathe to admit it he provided the insight necessary to safely bring Marceline home from her mindscape. He had been there when his liege's hubris had unleashed five of the most dangerous vampires the world had ever known and been instrumental in stopping them. Yes, he was a servant, but he was also a friend. A friend who disliked her lover of five hundred years, but that was beside the point.
"By the time I created you, Pep, Marcy and I were already in a relationship. We had been friends for many years beforehand, and even before we fell in love certain things about our dynamic were already true." If the candy man didn't know any better he could have sworn his creator sounded almost remorseful. "I was just as happy to know Marceline was submissive towards me as she was to know I was dominant over her. It was just the way we functioned. She needed someone who could put her back together when she inevitably fell apart and I needed someone to accept who and what I am. We both needed stability, and that partnership worked. It was even healthy."
"I sense a 'but'."
Bonnibel nodded sadly. "I took it for granted. When her soul chose me I didn't understand what that meant or the severity of the situation and I didn't bother to find out because it seemed self-evident to me. I thought myself too busy. By then I was already deep in the construction and maintenance of the Kingdom, and nothing seemed different about her or the way we operated. I realized…" She swallowed hard at the memories, the thoughts she was once so proud of. "I realized that it only exasperated her submission, but I saw no problem with it. Everytime she exploded, regardless of the reason, she always came back of her own free will and it only empowered me to become controlling to the point of abuse." Now she hesitated, now she knew she needed to admit something she had never thought she would say aloud. "I had cameras, Pep. In her house. When she left and found Ash I didn't even bother to check up on her because I knew she'd be back."
Peppermint Butler shook his head. He remembered this part of their lives well, perhaps the only time he had felt genuine sympathy for the vampire. "Your Highness-"
"If I had just bothered to look I would have seen what he was doing to her, but I was too focused on my responsibilities. When she finally did come back she acted like nothing happened, so I never thought to press it. She was my equal, and if she was ready to resume where we had left off I was willing to pretend nothing happened."
"I sense another 'but'."
"But she wasn't my equal, Pep. Her soul chose me, which meant that she would always need me more than I would need her."
He frowned and shook his head. "Your Majesty, if you've forgotten what happened when she left for the Nightosphere-"
"That was after I realized what I had become. Before this travesty I had no qualms with what I was doing. Even when we were in her mind I spent much of the journey blaming her. I never realized that while she's not exactly flawless she never hid from that, whereas I was too proud to admit my own failings, and despite everything her soul chose me. I have a responsibility towards it, and her. Regardless of everything I've done she's always protected me, and when she did return home from the Nightosphere she returned to me. She's proven time and again how loyal she is… how perfect she is for me. Now I will do the same."
Peppermint Butler wasn't sure he liked where this was going. "Your Highness?"
If Bonnibel caught the concerned tone in his voice she ignored it. For the record, she heard it and just didn't care. "According to Hunson and everything Marceline has told me an offering is meant to weaken the gifter to prove their worth. I've spent months now, ever since-" I killed Tyrant "-I began to see the error of my ways trying to conceptualize some way of doing exactly that. Something to prove how much I love her. I've found my answer, Pep, and somewhere in this plethora of demon science I will learn how to do it."
Now he was incredibly concerned, as made evident by the subtle shake in his voice. "Do… what exactly?"
When she smiled at him it sent a chill down his figurative spine. It wasn't the smile of a woman unhinged exactly. It was the smile of someone sure enough of herself that she was beyond argument, the beam of someone who had presumably solved the mysteries of life and the universe, or at least her own. It was the self-satisfaction of a job well done, it was the triumph of having The Answer.
"I'm going to bind my soul to her's."