Opening Act

by CountingWithTurkeys

Redemption and recovery may come at a steep cost, but the Rehearsal is over and it's time for Bonnibel and Marceline to decide if the price is one they're willing to pay.

21. A New Kind of Normal

Real talk: So hey, I'm not dead! If you follow my tumblr you'll realize this is a joke grounded in reality, so go me! Are you all self-isolating out there? I hope so! Like everyone else I'm also homeward-bound, so I'm hoping to use this as an excuse to return to writing more. Hopefully you guys are still out there, because my hiatus from writing is over and I have two Love Song chapters to work on!

This chapter is dedicated to someone very special. Plesiosaur, this one's for you.

Content Warnings:

Bonnibel and Marceline have a heart-to-heart chat that's both a little heavy and a little awkward

Adult situations (nothing explicit)

Very small reference to (unintentional) self-mutilation

References to previous character death

I'm not saying this chapter will matter for Headliner, but I'm not not saying it

Birds are weird. All birds. All of them. Think of a bird you saw at some point in your life. Was it weird? Yeah. Told you

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She dreamt of voices she would never again hear, the laughter of humans long gone. She dreamt of sensations she would never again feel, of a time when she could tread in sunlight without fear. She dreamt of foods she would never again taste, and tried to savor the memory of her favorite mortal foods. She dreamt of smells that weren't drowned out by the metallic tang of the blood shameful instinct demanded. She dreamt of her mother, of Simon, of the family she so craved but had been denied at every turn.

In her dreams she stood in a deserted hellscape of a ruined city, of thorns and vines choking the mangled buildings, of cracks and splits threatening to render the ground in half, marveling at the desolation and wondering, however absent-mindedly, if she was the cause. Had she done this? Had she lay waste to the world, fulfilling the prophecy that had taunted and bullied her for her thousand years of life? Deafened by the silence and the existential dread Marceline Abadeer closed her eyes and took a shaky breath, willing herself to calm down, to see with her eyes and not with her fear.

Fear. Was she afraid? The very idea shot a course of indignant fury through her, and she felt a spark of her birthright fire flutter within her soul, gasping for air to take its full form. Fear was for prey, she reminded herself from within her dream, and though she was many things Marceline was not and would never be prey. This she had vowed herself the first time her fingers had touched the then-fresh scars adorning her neck. Just as they did now.

Come on, she willed herself. Get up, dingus. Kindness was not something she showed often, least of all to herself. Why should she? The world had never been kind to her, and to expect it to in any capacity – herself included – was inviting heartache. She was alone now, in this ruined nightmare, and if she wished to escape the onus was on her to rescue herself. With a grunt Marceline opened her eyes, darting them this way and that before settling into the insecure knowledge that there was nothing and no one around.

Except.

At her feet lay a single rose petal, decidedly out of place in the grey and dismal metropolis. That wasn't there before, she marveled. No, she would have noticed something so pink and perfect invading her world. Nothing snuck up on her. Not even a stupid rose petal. And yet there it was, the only other thing in the nightmare besides herself that was ever once alive. With as much caution as she could afford, and with a nervousness that seemed out of place, the vampire gingerly plucked the warm flower petal from the cold floor. She cradled it in her palm, bewildered at how something so small could give her such unexpected comfort.

Where did you come from? Her world was a surreal one, yet this flower petal seemed out of place even there and she could not help but to lift her head and glance futilely this way and that, only to find nothing but stone and heartbreak. Far less painful to look at the flower petal, so pink and perfect. She felt compelled to give it an apologetic smile. You don't belong here. But she did, and she knew that, deep in her heartguts. The thought sent a bolt of pain through her, the knowledge that this was where she belonged. Chasing ghosts.

Except.

The flower petal, small as it was, seemed to disagree with this assertion and began to radiate a comforting heat. It feels like a heartbeat, Marceline thought in wonderment. Gingerly, as gently as she dared, the queen closed her hand around the rose petal, unwilling to let it be exposed to the ghastly scene before them both any longer. Hey, it's alright. I got ya, she , she did have it, she decided. She had it and she wouldn't let this corrupted world infect something so warm and gentle. Instead she brought the flower to her chest, over her heart, for just as she did not deserve kindness the little petal did not deserve cruelty. The warmth brought a strange comfort to the demon. It reminded her of the hugs Simon used to give her when she was sick and vulnerable, of the songs her mother would sing for her when she was scared of what went bump in the night, back before she learned that she was one of them.

Surrounded by what lay broken underneath her surface, Marceline Abadeer focused on the warmth radiating from the small petal in her grasp. The more she thought about it, the more her thumb caressed the rose, the more familiar it seemed, the more she knew, absolutely knew, that she had felt that same heat somewhere before, had felt the same comforting softness somewhen ago. Far more pleasant sensations than the calamity around her the musician focused, closing her eyes to drown out the despair of her surroundings, wondering how something so pink and perfect could have survived in the harsh and unforgiving dystopia.

This was no place for a small flower, she decided then, and the ground was no place for her. Floating now, Marceline opened her eyes and took a closer look at the dismal realm that imprisoned her. Alright. Now how the butts do we get out of here? With any direction being as good as any other, Marceline started off, letting the warmth from the flower guide her. The heat engrossed her, distracting her from the nostalgia of voices she would never again hear, from the past she could never reclaim. It was mesmerizing, almost hypnotic, and the immortal woman followed its lead.

The flower led her past the vine-choked buildings, beyond the cracked road. It drew her out of the city, away from its oppressive air and glaring patchwork-red sky. Though the world around her was no less surreal, buildings soon gave way to grassland, the bloody sky yielding to a starry night, and yet the rose compelled her still further. Never one to argue with a flower Marceline traveled forward still, until she found herself in front of-

You… brought me to a door? The petal seemed to vibrate almost excitedly, and Marceline could have scowled were it not so warm and comforting, and if the bronze door, many times her height and covered in happy glowing faces, hadn't seemed so familiar. She squinted at it with a grimace, trying to see what the flip those carvings were just so happy about. With a grunt of agitation she backed up, ready to tear the doors from their hinges if not for the flower's apparent objection. Only then did she see that the obstruction to her path seemed to be embedded in some sort of stone archway, broken and chipped and yet still standing tall. The stone, grey and cold beneath her fingertips, was decorated with strange loops and spirals beneath a heavy ledge. It looks like it was… torn out of a wall. The arch itself had an engraving of its own, text covered in a light layer of dust and grime, enough to obscure the words but not enough to hide them from her keen eyes.

When everything hinges on a single moment, be sure to choose the right one

Her gut reaction, the same reaction that was responsible for her having survived over a millennia in an unforgiving world, bid her to recoil, to find another way forward. Yet the flower, whose warmth was her sole source of comfort in this dream, reassured her that this was the way she was meant to go. She wanted to argue, though with the flower or herself she wasn't quite sure, when something caught her eye. Something pink and perfect. Her attention snapped to the source. …A rose? Wha? Indeed, there was a rose sticking out from the mouth of one of the faces, immaculate except for the missing petal in its front. …Huh. Alright. I'll bite. Just as she expected, the petal in her palm slid perfectly into the empty slot.

With a sense of satisfaction that what was once missing had been returned, Marceline almost didn't notice the door creak open. Almost didn't notice, at least, until something else pink and perfect caught her eye from across its threshold. Something familiar. A jolt of excitement shot through the vampire as she hurried after it, too distracted by the hope she was right to be disgusted that she was daring to hope at all.

It was on the other side of that hope that she found herself in a different type of ruins, imbued with a different type of nostalgia. She found herself abruptly in possession of a bag, carrying a record player in her arms, surrounded by owl feathers. So familiar, so much like a memory she often visited in the middle of the night, when being stuck in dreams would mean being bound by nightmares. …Am I..? Over her shoulder Marceline saw not the doorway she had just passed through but instead saw the outskirts of the Grasslands, the path that would lead her out of the large and decrepit building once obliterated by bombs and artillery. Behind her wasn't half as interesting as what was in front of her though, the figure emerging from the shop that once sold electronic knickknacks to a species long-since rendered nearly extinct. The younger woman, just as pink and perfect as to rose petal that had guided Marceline to the ancient mall, glanced this way and that before settling on the vampire. Her smile warmed the queen and it wasn't long before a warm hand was sliding into her own, offering a reassuring squeeze and gentle tug towards the Grasslands.

Marceline turned to watch the scavenger-turned-scientist stroll away, only to stop when she realized the singer had been struck too dumbfounded to immediately follow. 'Are you ready to go home?,' Marceline heard her ask and had to take a moment to ponder the meaning of the word 'home'. Though she wasn't sure she knew the answer, she did know that she had two options: stay in the wrecked monument to a time she could never return to, or let her princess guide her back to Ooo.

Despite her immense strength her arms were beginning to grow weary of holding the record player and she turned her bag towards her, only to find it much too full to carry the treasure. As the specter of the younger royal looked on the demon quickly emptied her bag of the horns and claws and bones, sliding the record player in its place. Now lighter than she could remember being in centuries Marceline met her princess at the entranceway to Ooo.

Marceline Abadeer dreamt of many things that night. She dreamt of places long gone and times she could never return to. She dreamt of the song she and her best friend first danced to, of the moment she realized she was in love. She dreamt of the scars in her soul that would never heal, of the broken pieces of her heart she could never repair. More than anything, though, she dreamt of Bonnibel Bubblegum taking her hand and leading her home.

When Marceline Abadeer opened her eyes she was, at first, disoriented. Gone was the wasteland, gone was the mall, gone was the song, replaced instead by the music of Bonnibel Bubblegum's deep, rhythmic breathing. The dream soon left the vampire's consciousness, as dreams so often do, and she was left in the care of Reality. It was dark, she sleepily registered, only becoming gradually aware that she was in the world's softest bed, Bonnibel pressed against her as she slept soundly, wrapped trustingly in Marceline's arms. At some point in the night the onyx-haired woman's hand had slid under Bonnibel's nightshirt and come to rest against her warm belly, her other arm draped over her protectively.

Marceline pulled the younger woman closer, loosening her embrace only enough to allow the scientist to roll over. It was rare to catch Bonnibel slumbering so soundly; she was a light sleeper, paranoia driving her towards the upper end of hypervigilance. Marceline wasn't blind. She knew that it had been getting worse, that Bonnibel was sleeping less than she was letting on. Guilt stabbed through her. She's staying awake 'cause of me. She's worried that I'm gonna lose it again, or disappear on her. Which, really, was a fair concern. It wouldn't be the first time the half-demon had disappeared when things got too emotionally charged rather than face her problems and confront her fears. It had always been Bonnibel's role to make it - whatever 'it' was - better, to contain the explosion and pick up the pieces. But this is extreme, even for her. As the princess slept Marceline watched her fondly, and with a sad smile. Bonnibel had been spending every moment she could with her vampire, tirelessly assuring and comforting her as the older woman found her proverbial footing in Ooo and pieced together the remnants of her psyche. I need her, and she's here. Just like you promised, right Bon?

But what of what Bonnibel needed? Marceline's thoughts turned towards the world beyond the princess's rooms, to the candy citizens sleeping securely in their beds. They were dependent on their ruler, childlike and helpless in a world that would always threaten to gobble them up, both body and mind. Surely by now they had grown despondent by her absence, and in Marceline's mind's eye the she could imagine Peppermint Butler reassuring them as best he could. Even if she did need a break from her duties every now and then surely Bonnibel missed her children just as much and worried for their safety.

Children? Yeah, I guess they are. I mean, she literally made them with her own gum. Wait, am I using that word right? Note to self: ask Bon. Though she tried to hide it Bonnibel had always loved talking about her creations, and though it was often with a strain of fatigue in her voice they were still her children, and the scientist was quite territorial over what was hers. Like me, I guess. Even before she first put on her crown Bonnibel had been like that, it was simply her nature. With resignation Marceline pulled her lover closer, unwilling to stop her smile when she felt her mate and best friend sigh in her sleep and cuddle into her chest. She had never dared to hope that she would ever be able to hold her Bonnibel again. It was striking how different the scientist was from her role as princess, and if Marceline hadn't witnessed the difference herself she would never believe that her best friend truly was back. After all, her life had been spent with Princess Bubblegum for so long, why should she dare hope? But… guess that's kind of my fault too, huh? Her grey hand stroked down the long pink hair as she mused an uncomfortable truth: Marceline had always been preoccupied with what Princess Bubblegum needed, but somewhere along the way the princess had locked her former persona away, and the vampire had let her. In the process, she was just as guilty of ignoring Bonnibel's needs as Princess Bubblegum was of ignoring her own.

It was a toxic rabbit hole for thoughts to tumble down, but tumble they did and the singer couldn't help but wonder how Peppermint Butler was containing the damage to the kingdom his liege's absence must be causing which, in turn, caused her to wonder what he himself did with Bonnibel constantly sending him away to give Marceline privacy. In a weird, almost perverse way she missed the weenie-mint, missed pranking him and missed the way he would glower at her presence. It was far better than the look of pity she was afforded now, not from him but, it seemed, from everyone. Only Phoebe spared her that look, only Phoebe didn't take pains to walk on eggshells around her. It had been refreshing during her brief visit to the Fire Kingdom, comforting in a weird way. Wonder what Pheebs is up to… If she were honest with herself, though, it wasn't just Phoebe she wondered about. She wondered what adventures Finn and Jake had undertaken without her, what concerts had come and gone. What experiences she had inadvertently denied Bonnibel.

Marceline disentangled herself from her mate, careful not to disturb her rest. Silently, as was the benefit of being able to float, the demon tucked the effective-immortal back into bed before heading to the window. A peak past the black-out curtains confirmed it was dark, the world outside the castle still and peaceful. Flashing lights against the sky accompanied a bright moon, overpowering the glow of the occasion fire in a candy citizen's hearth. Since her initial retreat to the Nightosphere the seasons had changed without Marceline's permission, and crisp autumn nights would soon give way to snow and ice. She had spent the bulk of the warmer season in self-imposed exile, licking her wounds in the Nightosphere and pretending she didn't miss her friends. Did the princess miss the world beyond her rooms? She must, certainly, but she had said nothing to the vampire. She wouldn't, I guess. No, she had been too careful not to push Marceline before she was ready, and Marceline had made it abundantly clear that inside was good, outside was bad.

Why? For what purpose? Even to the emotional demon it made no sense, and she returned the curtain to its original position before returning to the bed, belatedly relieved that her absence hadn't roused Bonnibel. At first she considered leaving the princess to her rest, occupying herself in some other way, some other how, but the memory of how readily the younger woman had cuddled against her was too tempting. As Marceline slid back under the covers and returned to her initial position of holding her princess she wondered if this was something they both needed, a shared desire to reestablish their bond. In the privacy of her own mind the immortal could admit how much she missed the feel of skin to skin contact with her mate, of being able to feel her curves against her without the dreaded sense of awkwardness. Did you miss it too, Bon?

Without the handicap of self-consciousness that tends to accompany being awake Bonnibel resumed her own position against Marceline, sliding her hands under her nightshirt to rest against the cool skin of her back. It was comforting to Marceline, reassuring in a way sorely needed after the day prior, and it wasn't long before she was lulled back into a light sleep, the illusion of normalcy too tempting to pass up. This time, mercifully, she didn't dream, which meant she was spared the self-doubt that so often plagued her nightmares.

She did, however, feel the exact moment Bonnibel stirred. It coincided with when the delightfully warm hands withdrew from the skin of her back and she groaned in protest. The hands froze where they were, lifted from her back but still under her shirt, and the rare hesitation – for Bonnibel Bubblegum never hesitated about anything – made Marceline peak an eye open, just in time to see an even rarer light blush across her mate's cheeks. Which she surely would have teased her about, except that she was certain she was blushing as well, still so uncertain about her place and where she stood in Bonnibel's life. We both are, the vampire realized. "…Morning, Bon," she said more quietly than she meant.

Bonnibel cleared her throat, withdrawing her hands to allow the older woman to sit up unimpeded. "Good morning, Marceline. How do you f-"

"We need to talk, don't we?"

There was an unusual tightness in the singer's voice and Bonnibel felt her heart drop at the possibility of what it could mean. She hadn't expected Marceline to rouse so easily; she was a fan of sleeping in, and sleeping deeply at that, and for her to be awake so early could not bode well. Nevertheless. "I suppose we do," she agreed, planting herself next to her queen. She seemed shaken last night, but not this morose. Is this because of my… hand placement in the night? I suppose she didn't give me permission-

"Bon? You okay?"

She had been staring off, Bonnibel realized belatedly. How awkward. Not as awkward as the look of concern Marceline was giving her but, you know, still pretty awkward. "Ah. Yes. I apologize. What did you want to talk about, Marcy?"

The demon's derisive snort was reassuring in a strange way. It was an odd sense of normality, a strange way of easing the tension. "Chill, Bon. It's just me."

It's just you? As if Marceline could ever be 'just' anything. She was Bonnibel's one true equal, the only stable force in her tumultuous existence, what grounded her against the insanity inherently born from immortality. The one who protected her from herself. The most important aspect of my life. "Alright, Marcy," she breathed. Relaxed. "What did you want to talk about?"

As she settled on the bed so too did Marceline settle against her, drumming her fingers against the blankets in ponderance. She seemed tense, but not overly so. Anxious without being nervous. "…You'll be honest, right Bon?"

There was no accusation in the vampire's words, only a desire for reassurance. "Of course, Marceline."

More drumming as Marceline attempted to iron out her thoughts so they were something other than a rambling, incoherent mess. "…What do you want, Bon?"

"What do you mean?"

Drumming. "You've been stuck with me in this room for awhile, huh?"

Bonnibel raised an eyebrow, wrapping her arms around the older monarch's waist. What an odd and erroneous thought for you to have. "While I understand the question, I disagree with the connotation." Marceline looked over her shoulder, staring blankly. "…I'm not stuck anywhere, Marceline. To be stuck would imply that I am unable to leave. I choose to stay here with you."

"Why?"

The princess would think the answer obvious, but she dare not voice that assumption. Very few times were the demon's questions what they seemed, and if she was asking something so apparent there was a reason. "Because you aren't ready to leave." And because I'm not ready to leave you to your own devices.

"Thought so," Marceline sighed in evident dismay.

When she didn't continue, when the drumming stopped, Bonnibel held her closer, turning her lover until her pointed ear rested over her heart. "What's wrong, Marcy?," she prompted gently, as if she didn't already have a sneaking suspicion.

"…You're stuck in here. Because of me."

Suspicion confirmed. Did you have a nightmare again? "Marceline, as I said, I'm not stuck-"

"Come on, Bon!," she exclaimed suddenly as she pulled away just enough to turn, meeting her eyes. "You're really going to tell me this is how you prefer to spend your time? In this room, when all your candy peeps are probably going nuts to the butts not knowing where you are?" Perhaps, before this fiasco, Bonnibel would have risen to that bait, would have seen this as a challenge. She knew better now, and when she remained silent Marceline turned away, clenching the blankets in her fist. "…It's messed up, Bon," she whispered.

"It's messed up to spend time caring for my mate when she needs me most?," came the calm rebuttal. When it was met without challenge Bonnibel cupped Marceline's cheek, tracing her jawline and over the ancient scars on her neck as she turned her face back. "How much have you sacrificed for me over the years, Marcy?"

"I haven't," Marceline whispered. "That's the problem."

"You've missed concerts, cancelled tours-"

"It's not the same, Bon. This is different. It's all different."

That much was true, if not for the reason Marceline thought. "Marcy," Bonnibel began again, tilting the queen's chin up. Her eyes darted this way and that before she grew to accept that the candy golem wasn't letting her get away with whatever this was. She yielded, finally, meeting green eyes again. "Things are different, yes. I spent years ignoring when you needed me, expecting you to always be there for me regardless. Do you feel guilty now that I'm doing the same?" Silence was just another form of affirmation, and it was proof enough. I thought so. "You've always been so protective of me, and I have been lacking in that regard. Now that you have experienced it you aren't sure how to cope with it." Is this how low your standards are for my affection? Ouch. But how could she blame her? "That's quite understandable, especially given the circumstances. Yet in your hurry to condemn yourself you've overlooked one crucial factor."

"Yeah?," Marceline asked, disbelieving.

"I've always taken you for granted. My citizens need me, true, but in a much different way, and their way can wait. You," she said, lacing her fingers with Marceline's free hand, "are still healing from a traumatic event. And you need to heal for your own sake, Marcy. Not for mine. Not for Phoebe's. Your own."

"And what do you need?," Marceline snapped.

Bonnibel quieted, watching her best and oldest friend internally self-destruct, knowing she did this. This lashing out was nothing more than misplaced self-deprecation. Hundreds of years emphasizing that her needs come second to my duties have manifested into this, and I didn't care.

True, she heard Rechte whisper from the back of her mind. But you know the answer, right?

Bonnibel's thoughts turned to the answer-in-vambracer-form of what she needed, hidden from prying eyes and curious hands safely among the lab equipment waiting to be sterilized in the bathroom. It encouraged her, spurred her forward, and she took a deep breath to steady her admission. "I need you, Marceline. I've always needed you, and I took your presence in my life as a given. I need to see this through with you, and to support you. I know you could do this alone. You're demonstrably adept at navigating life without aid, but that is a skill that was honed through necessity, not one that is innate. I helped develop it by never taking an interest in you unless your actions had a direct impact on my day-to-day life." Wow, her own medicine tasted awful. "This travesty occurred because the Chaos Amulet acted as a parasite, and I helped give it something to eat. Rather than lessen your mental strife I added to it and placed an undue burden onto you to carry it alone. I'm sorry, Marceline. You may think I need to be with my citizens, or anywhere else I historically excused myself to. I assure you, though," the edge in her voice, the one that seemed to take up residence when she thought about herself, dulled as she held her vampire against her, "what I need is to be with you."

It should have been enough. It would have to be. Marceline closed her eyes, listening to the calming, steady thumping of Bonnibel's heart, devoid of any sign of misdirection or insincerity. "Do you miss it? Your normal life? Going outside?"

"Marceline, have our lives ever been normal?" Fair, but that wasn't the right thing to ask. "Besides, I think the real question is… do you miss it?"

The half-demon opened her eyes, turning her head to stare at the blackout curtain that protected her from the Sky Ball of Death that plagued her existence. It didn't always, of course, but those days were gone and Ice King's words echoed in her mind. A new kind of normal, huh Simon? "...Yeah. I think so, anyway." When Bonnibel's hand squeezed reassuringly she squeezed back. "...Hey Bon?"

"Yes, Marceline?"

"...Wanna go see how the rose garden is doing?"

Bonnibel beamed, indulging in the deluge of emotion before regaining her composure. "Yes, Marceline. I would be delighted to. Do try not to eat all of them."

"I do what I want," the musician smirked before pulling herself out of her lover's lap. "Gotta represent the punk life, Bon."

Bonnibel couldn't help rolling her eyes as she watched Marceline dive through the wardrobe for something that wasn't pink and feminine. "You're not even alive."

"That just makes me even more punk, Bon. You wouldn't get it."

No, perhaps not, and Bonnibel thought she preferred it that way. Some mysteries were best left unanswered, even to the most brilliant. She rose, treading after the vampire who, to her credit, was doing an excellent job of pretending that she wasn't nervous at all about the notion of going outside and facing the sun. Only if you knew her for as long or as well as the scientist did would you catch the subtle signs. She politely ignored them all, instead joining her in the hunt for appropriate clothing. "I believe I have spare protective coverings in the drawer second from the bottom-"

"Chill, nerd alert. I got it."

Bonnibel huffed at the nickname, indignant, but it was superficial. If anything it was nice, hearing the teasing tone in her best friend's voice return. She hummed her acknowledgement, a taunting but subtle 'of course you do,' and when Marceline stuck her tongue out at her for her dismissal Bonnibel stuck her's back before returning to her own task of dressing.This is… nice. Pleasant even. Particularly the part where Marceline seemed to forget what shreds of modesty she normally possessed as of late and began to change into a graphic t-shirt of some band the princess never heard of. Rather than retreat to the bathroom for privacy she had merely turned, and now her bare back was facing the younger monarch. Unlike Marceline, Bonnibel turned away from the all-too-pleasant sight, eyes wide, face an interesting shade of red.

A shade of red she'd find… tasty?

Rechte's taunt only deepened her blush and Bonnibel found herself in the interesting position of being peeved at her own subconscious. Even if she was- No no no. I will not have this conversation now, when she's finally ready to leave the castle.

Rechte's laughter was as fond as it was derisive. You can ignore me, BonBon, but can you ignore your own-

"I'll be right back!" It came out as a rush, but Bonnibel was mercifully oblivious to Marceline's look of bewilderment as she fled to the bathroom, clothing in hand. When the door closed she exhaled her anxiety, dropping the clothing to the floor. If her mirror was to be believed, yes, her face was indeed a shade of red Marceline had traditionally found 'tasty', as Rechte had so crudely put it. With a huff and a grumble Bonnibel changed into her own outfit. Rechte, don't be distasteful.

Is it distasteful if I'm right?

Another huff. Being correct does not make you any less distasteful.

First step is admitting I'm right, Bon, I'm proud of you.

Feeling her eye twitch Bonnibel turned away from her mirror, cracking the door open to peek out. Please tell me she didn't follow… For once luck was on her side, for Marceline hadn't trailed after her, instead occupying herself with the contents of her bag. Satisfied that her mate was distracted by stashing whatever goodies she found in her room into their now shared wardrobe the candy scientist closed the door silently, turning her attention to her hiding place, and the treasure stored within.

Wow. You're really gonna do it, huh?

As she changed into a thick violet turtle neck and soft pink leggings the vambracer was retrieved from its hiding place and wrapped securely in the princess's used nightshirt and bottoms. Without acknowledging the voice that had taken up residence in her mind Bonnibel exited the bathroom, thanking her luck for the small miracle that Marceline seemed either didn't notice or chose to grant her the privacy of her own thoughts. Soon the vambracer was expertly hidden in her messenger bag, and only then, as she pulled her sneakers on, did she let her shoulders shed their tension and relax. Made it.

"You okay, Bon?"

Her startle was expertly hidden, a skill well-honed from hundreds of years of her mate sneaking up on her at every opportune moment. If Marceline noticed the subtle jump she either said nothing, or attributed it to her habit of startling the younger woman. Bonnibel secured her bag before returning to her queen, straightening her large sunhat. "Yes. Are you?"

Garnet eyes darted to the covered window, but didn't linger. "Yeah. Rockin'. You ready?"

"Yes. Are you?," Bonnibel repeated.

"...Yeah. Still rockin'," Marceline repeated, less certain than she sounded a moment before.

With a kind smile and kiss to the taller woman's cheek Bonnibel approached the window, hand lingering on the curtain. "Unless you would prefer a different mode of entry?"

Marceline's look of disgust was almost believable. "You mean… use the door? Like a peasant? No way, Bon. Window's where the action is." And yet, despite her assertion, her hand hovered over the latch, hesitant.

Bonnibel wrapped her own hand over it, lacing their fingers. "It's alright, Marcy. I know it's a crummy feeling, being so out-of-place. But this is your home. The castle, the kingdom, Ooo… would you prefer we use The Morrow?"

"That death trap?!," now her look of disgust was genuine, the idea of flying on the great beast making her skin crawl. "Bon, I've already died twice. Don't think I can cheat Death a third time, he's def got it out for me."

Are we going to have this same conversation now? "Marceline, The Morrow is perfectly safe-" The click of the latch marked the end of the argument before it began. Why Marceline was so object to the bird whose egg she herself had once found was bizarre, even for her, but Bonnibel supposed now was not the time to uproot that mystery. No, now was the time to wrap her arms around her lover's neck, politely ignore one another's blush as she was scooped up, and enjoy the morning sunshine that accompanied their descent to the gardens below. Once she was safely on the ground and, more importantly, Marceline was safely at her side she tilted her head, turning from the vampire to the roses that hugged her castle walls. "Was there any particular reason you wished to visit the gardens, Marceline? Or were you merely feeling peckish?"

"I think I had a dream or something?," she murmured distractedly. It was bright out, brighter than Marceline remembered 'day' as being. Brighter and louder, with seemingly every candy citizen Bonnibel had ever created out and enjoying the last few weeks of warmth before the planet turned and winter returned. They hadn't noticed their monarch's return, at least not yet, for they were preoccupied with the market stalls and whatever other trivialities mortals occupied their short existences with. They gossiped as they shared treats, laughed as parents played with their small children, cheered at the games that were born from boredom and the desire to escape it.

A sea of pink grass separated the gardens from the cream and magenta archway marking the entrance to the castle proper, and despite the crisp air the grass paid it no mind, just as soft and fuzzy as the vampire remembered. She couldn't resist kneeling to run her fingers over the tapered edges, following it with her eyes first from the archway itself, then behind her to the gardens. While Bonnibel had always kept the flowers she loved in their own separate section for her children to appreciate, she kept those she loved best - particularly the roses - against and behind the castle, at the base of the wall that protected her rooms. On paper, to the public, she touted the need to protect such fragile flowers from the uncouth stomping of her simple-minded creations, and her simple-minded creations from their sharp thorns. Peppermint Butler loudly suspected that it was for a different reason, that the roses were planted in their particular location for Marceline's easy access. After all, the unique shade of rose-red and -pink was a delicacy to the vampire, and the queen could often be seen draining the color from the precious plants until chased away with a broom at Peppermint Butler's insistence.

Only Marceline and Bonnibel knew the real reason for their odd location, and only they could navigate the invisible trail without unintentional injury. It wasn't a secret exactly, not in the sense that it was forbidden knowledge. It was simply private information, because how could her children understand that the rose gardens were a sentimental testament, one of the rare acts of affection orchestrated by Princess Bubblegum for her demonic suitor? It was a sustainable source of food that was both pleasing visually and protected the princess; would-be assassins too eager at the thought of taking her head would fail to pass the vines unscathed, and it was child's play for the vampire to follow the trickle of blood inevitably left behind. Princess Bubblegum had once darkly joked that it was a way for her to exercise the demon, cheekily acknowledging that Marceline, deep down, didn't want to be fed, she wanted to hunt, and roses had a delightful habit of taking into them whatever fertilizer they could, hemoglobin included. Tracking intruders who carelessly injured themselves on the beautiful thorns purged her predatory instinct and, depending on how often she visited, the game could last days, preoccupying her long enough for the scientist to finish her task without worrying about interruption. A delightful chew toy.

Nowadays, though, now that she was enlightened it was bittersweet at best, and Bonnibel coped by taking Marceline's gloved hand again as she stood. Perhaps the singer saw nothing wrong with the back-handed embodiment of affection - sometimes it was hard to tell and asking would be awkward - but the candy golem did and it only hardened her resolve. As the two traversed the winding road the young scientist absently reflected that her paramour had picked a lovely day to break her self-imposed exile. Birds tweeted and flickered, ridding the blooms of pests. Welcomed insects burrowed to and fro in the ground, channeling even more paths for roots to spread, occasionally peering from the earth at the two intruders into their territory only to retreat themselves when neither registered as a threat. The breeze was light and gentle, just enough to stir Marceline's long black hair and give Bonnibel an excuse to absently twirl her fingers in it when she could get away with it. Peaceful. It's peaceful. "A dream, Marcy?"

Marceline gave a half-shrug, a sign that she didn't know but was unbothered. "Can't really remember. Doesn't matter though, right?"

No, I suppose not, Bonnibel thought as they began down the trail known only to the two women. Were it a Cosmic Owl dream you would certainly remember. Now there was an unpleasant possibility, one that made her skin crawl. And yet... Her thoughts turned to the Cosmic Owl and his prophecy thrust upon the pink-haired woman, turned to the feelings of peace and security she had felt, even as her dream-self predicted the apocalyptic scenario of the Lich's return. That part was surely symbolic, but…

But you had a pretty realistic dream where you were married, queen, and had the best of all worlds?

Rechte wasn't wrong. Prophecy aside it had been a wonderful dream. Her vampire had been self-assured and happy, they had both, quite obviously, remained in love, and Bonnibel had had the power she had always craved. There is no sense dwelling though, is there Marcy? Out of the corner of her eye Bonnibel watched Marceline, lips quirking upward as her queen's attention was easily gobbled by the beauty of the garden. Her curiosity was one of the things Bonnibel loved most about her best friend, even if Marceline did often express it in highly destructive or otherwise unhelpful ways. Now, though? Now it was just- Adorable. Without realizing it her free hand closed around the strap to her bag, pulling her offering close against her.

More than anything, though, it was comforting to see that the previous day's events hadn't kept the older woman down for long. Yes, she seemed tense, and though she could avert her gaze all she wanted Bonnibel knew that body language, the way her hands twitched. She knew hunting instinct when she saw one, having a profound one herself. Her trophies are gone, and now that demonic part of her soul is going bonkers. Do you remember this garden, and how many assassins you've saved me from? "How are you doing, Marcy?," Bonnibel asked gently.

"No idea what you mean."

"Marceline-"

"Nope."

"Marce-"

"Uh uh."

"Marceline." A familiar firmness returned to her voice and it ground the vampire to a halt.

Easy, Bon, Rechte quietly urged. Don't wig out.

She was right, Bonnibel knew it, it was just so difficult not to fall into old habits.

Do me a fav and try anyway, nerd.

"Please," she started, softening the blow, "I'm worried about you."

"Come on, Bon," Marceline groaned. "Last night happened, now it's today."

"Astute observation." When Marceline's eyes narrowed Bonnibel let go of the hardness in her voice. "Please," she repeated, "I just want to talk."

The hand still resting so trustingly in her own twitched once more before relaxing. "I'm fine." But it was more of a plead than a reassurance, and Bonnibel couldn't resist pulling her into a hug. "I'm… I'll be fine."

A very different sentence, and not one that went unnoticed. "I know, Marcy." And I know that you don't need to fight this part of you.

Marceline pulled away first, uncomfortable with the reminder of the night before. "Can we just-"

"Certainly." And then, as if nothing had happened, Bonnibel took her hand once more and returned to their journey through the roses. Perhaps a change of topic is in order. "Do you remember the gardens?"

"Like… these gardens, or just the core concept of a garden?"

Ah, sarcasm. That was much better. "These gardens specifically."

Marceline pulled away again as they circled the edge of the gardens, stopping to look intently at a particularly pink and perfect rose. "...You know, it's bizarro, but I do."

Oh! Unexpected good news was always welcomed. "Wunderbar, Marceline! Perhaps your memory of Ooo is returning after all! Maybe-"

Marceline zoned out, a well-honed skill she had centuries of practice developing. On the one hand, it warmed a normally icy part of her heart to hear Bonnibel so excited about something that didn't involve science junk. On the other, she had been trying to move away from the preoccupation with what had happened to her when she put on her father's amulet, had been trying to find- "A new kind of normal," she mumbled to no one in particular.

No one in particular heard her, but did not comprehend the meaning. "My pardon?"

"Your what?"

A gentle shoulder smack. "You know my what, you butt." Marceline snickered as she plucked the pink rose, absentmindedly sinking her fang into the pedal and Bonnibel expertly hid her surprise about the lack of her typical remarks regarding the recent terrible taste of food.

The now-grey flower was carelessly disregarded and the vampire licked the last remaining flavor from her fang. "...It's just.. Simon," she sighed, too dejectedly for Bonnibel's taste.

"Last night?"

"Yeah," she breathed. "He was… helpful? I mean, for him anyway. Thought the only way to deal with the wig wag of what happened is to stop looking looking at things the old way? Look for a new kind of norm. So I thought…" Marceline trailed off, rubbing her neck in an obvious display of nervousness.

How oddly insightful for the Ice King. Perhaps I'll have the Gumball Guardians refrain from blasting him with lasers.

Already promised Marce you were gonna do that, Rechte snickered.

Ah. Yes. Right. Of course. "It's true, Marceline. What happened to you was ba-nay-nays, and perhaps it's unrealistic to aspire to the way things once were." Her words were harsh, even if her tone was soft. "Those days may be gone, but that doesn't mean something better can't be built in their place. You're resilient."

"Yeah. I rock." Another rose, another snack, and Bonnibel rolled her eyes as the two exited the gardens.

She wants to move on. I'm so proud of you, Marceline. She didn't say that part. "Is there anything else you wanted to see?"

"Eh." In truth, Marceline hadn't thought that far ahead.

"Then may I make a suggestion?" Marceline's look was clearly skeptical, and as they came to halt before a very specific part of the castle it became a full objection.

"Uh uh. No way."

"Marc-"

"Nope."

"Marcel-"

"Not happening."

"Marceline!" Bonnibel lifted her hand, resting it on the aviary's door. "Do you trust me?"

That question was so loaded it probably possessed enough fire power to outgun the bombs that sundered Ooo in the first place. And yet. "I trust you, bu-"

"Excellent." That was all the princess needed to hear for her to push open the door to the massive enclosure. The door closed behind her and Marceline glared after her, almost growling at the spectre of the large bird housed within. After the avian accepted her assignment - whatever it was - she poked her head out of her roomy home, paying the demon no mind. "Are you ready?"

"Still hate it." Another hum of acknowledgement - or perhaps dismissal - and Marceline joined her fellow monarch on the bird's back. "Where are we going, Bon?"

"You'll see." Even if Marceline was ignorant as to their destination, Bonnibel's steed was not, and no sooner had the demon resigned herself to her fate that the trio were airborne. The older woman sighed, resting her head on Bonnibel's back, comforted in knowing she wasn't sitting at the front.

Even if Marceline's hearing was acute enough to hear any speech Bonnibel's was not, and the whooshing air of the great bird's high speed rendered conversation a moot point. As she took hold of her wide hat to prevent it from flying off the queen's eyes closed in both defeat and consternation as she tried to imagine what her mate could possibly be thinking, taking her on the death-trap-in-the-form-of-a-bird, and in the middle of the day no less. What are you up to now, Bon? Do I even want to know? As if she had a choice in the matter. With an inaudible groan Marceline opened her eyes, gazing at the world below her.

The edge of the Grasslands was already fading from view, bleeding into the dark forests she loved so much. Such a familiar sight brought comfort to her, even if spotting someone familiar treading into it brought confusion. Why is Finn…? Marceline shook her head and the boy was gone. Not the weirdest thing he's ever done, I guess. Mortals are weirdos in gen. 'Spesh humans. She pushed Finn's unexpected appearance out of her mind, returning her attention to wherever it was she was being brought partially against her will as she simultaneously resolved to interrogate the boy later.

The Ice Kingdom came and went as swiftly as the Grasslands had. A quick left at the Verdant Plains took the trio past the Ice Kingdom and towards the mountainous lakes the Giants called home when the weather permitted. From there it was a hard right into the Grey Mist, a hauntingly still forest composed of massive grey trees and creatures from pre-War fantasy stories. Why…? It had been years, decades at least, since the pair of immortals had journeyed this far, and never on a whim. Before Marceline could again inquire as to where she was being brought the great bird began her descent, aiming for a brief clearing among the dark trees that decorated the mountain range. The Morrow landed first on one of their mighty branches, the grey wood easily sustaining her weight and grip of her talons, before the steed fluttered downward still, nestling safely on the ground with the grace inherent in her species. Apparently more knowledgeable as to the journey's purpose than she was the bird lowered herself, allowing her riders to dismount. Which Marceline did with great haste, taking Bonnibel with her.

"Do you remember this place, Marcy?" The Morrow had excellent taste in locations; the spot she had chosen had enough tree cover that the vampire almost dared to remove her hat. Almost. Above her the treetops provided Unlife-giving shade, almost blocking out the Sky Ball of Death entirely, the smoky wood cool and refreshing beneath her fingertips. Below her feet, soft enough that even she could not resist landing, the emerald grass softened all sound and cushioned even Marceline's sense of caution. Ahead of her lay more forest, behind her the soft lap of waves signifying a steep drop into the Squid Ink Sea. Yes, Marceline knew this place, and judging by Bonnibel's tone of saudade in her voice that was exactly why they were there.

"Yeah, Bon," Marceline started, matching her tone. There was a slight pain in her still heart, bittersweet memories threatening to re-emerge. Without realizing it she had reached out and began stroking down the soft downy feathers of The Morrow's leg. The bird chirped softly, nipping playfully at the demon's hand until she began to stroke her beak instead. "Been awhile, huh?" Was she talking to Bonnibel, or the bird? Same diff, I guess.

"Mm." Bonnibel strolled past her, motioning for one or both of her companions to follow as she meandered deeper into the forest. The Morrow trailed after her, Marceline floating not far behind. She would not be shown up by a bird.

"So… what are we doing here?" The demon hadn't meant for that to come out as nervously as it did, Bonnibel simply had that effect on her. Still the candy golem remained silent, perhaps for effect, perhaps lost in her own thoughts, Marceline wasn't sure. What she was sure of, though, was that this was all deliberate, which meant Bonnibel had a plan and that nothing would be revealed until she was ready. Rather than press the matter the queen looked to The Morrow, ignoring the absurdity of asking the steed for wisdom, but if the avian knew she gave no hint. Traitor. And then Bonnibel stopped. And sighed. Whereas only moments before she had been teasing and lively now she looked almost morose. Concern laced through her voice Marceline met at her side, resting her hand on her shoulder. "...Bon? You okay?"

"Do you remember this place, Marcy?," she repeated, her own hand coming to rest on Marceline's glove. Rather than look at her mate she stared off in ponderance, towards the sounds of the waves.

"You know I do. We found-" Her hand tightened around Marceline's and it was all the sign the singer needed to pull her closer. "Come on, BonBon. Talk to me," she whispered.

Bonnibel closed her eyes, resting her head on her best friend and lover's shoulder. In truth she had expected that when the moment, this moment, came she would be elated, ready to begin the next phase of her immortal life.

You having second thoughts, Bon?

Not exactly, Rechte. Merely… concerned. What if she rejects me? After all of the work I put in to earn my place in her heart once again, am I not pushing the boundary too soon? Rechte's response, whatever it would be, was overshadowed by Marceline tilting Bonnibel's chin up until their eyes met. There was nothing but trust in her deep garnet eyes, and it was answer enough. A steadying breath and away she went. "Marceline… this morning you expressed guilt about how much we were focusing on your needs while seemingly ignoring my own."

Marceline frowned. "Well yeah, Bon-"

The princess held up the hand not holding the older woman's and Marceline fell into a well-trained silence. Neither seemed to notice. "Please. Before you respond, let me finish, because I was… not entirely honest. Well, I was. In a way. But-"

"Bon," she said gently. "You're rambling. I'll let you do your thing, but come on. What's the what up?"

"Forgiveness."

This again? Bewildered, Marceline shook her head. "Come on, Bon. We've been over this-"

"Marceline. Please. Let me finish." As if to argue the demon opened her mouth, then closed it. This sounded serious, and Bonnibel sounded almost desperate. Especially that steadying breath she just took. And the way she closed her eyes, as if resigning herself to her fate. And- "I'm asking your forgiveness, because I've… done something you will disapprove of, but I did so with noble intentions." When her eyes opened she glanced behind Marceline, and a silent flick of her wrist signaled for The Morrow to entertain herself. That didn't bode well. Particularly the part where Bonnibel took Marceline deeper into the forest, up the bluff, and out to the other side. The waves lapped at the side of the cliff, dark and soothing. Bonnibel gave her grey cheek a kiss before kneeling to rest, her bag in her lap, close enough to the edge to appreciate the view without the chill of the ocean becoming overwhelming.

Marceline joined her at her side, more unnerved than anything else*. She hated seeing her princess like this, so unsure of herself. It didn't suit her, and it made the demon bristle. Or would have, had she not been so focused in keeping it under tight control. "...Alright, Bon. I'm listening. I won't say a thing 'till you're donezo. Alright? So what's the wig-wam?"

Please, Bonnibel thought to no one in particular, hands coming to rest over her bag. A plead without form as her hand gripped the fabric over her gift. "While you were in the Nightosphere I had ample time to think. I thought of what happened to you, trapped in your own mind, and of meeting those pieces of yourself housed within. I thought of us, and how our relationship dynamic has evolved over the centuries. I thought of… how circumstances led us to your father's office that night, and how I bullied you into putting on the Chaos Amulet."

Promise or not, Marceline couldn't let that slide. "Bon, you didn't-"

"I did, Marceline," she sighed. "Over the course of our relationship I became controlling and domineering. Perhaps that behavior is acceptable in my role as monarch but it is not and should never be acceptable behavior in our relationship. I came to take you for granted, but more than anything… I came to take advantage of your very nature."

"My nature?"

Here we go. "Your soul chose mine."

She didn't miss the wince. Hard as she might try otherwise, Marceline wore her heart on her sleeve. "Right. Yeah. That."

"It has always made us unequal, when our relationship should be of equals. You are my only true equal, Marcy."

"I know, Bon. It's just-"

"Just that your nature means that I will always have a certain power over you that you cannot have over me. That's horribly unfair to you, isn't it?"

Marceline gave a half-hearted shrug, trying in vain to hide her pain at the reminder. Centuries later, it was still a wound. "Come on, Bon. It just comes with the territory."

"That's precisely my point, Marcy." Bonnibel turned to her, cupping her cool cheek. "It comes with the territory, but until this point in our lives it's only come with your territory. It should be both of our territories."

Marceline raised an eyebrow. "...You're not makin' sense, Bon."

Bonnibel's hand tried to drop, but Marceline caught it, giving it a squeeze before letting it retreat into the lavender bag. "I've had a lot of time to think-"

"Dangerous for you."

A quirk of her lips almost became a smile. "Perhaps. In this case, though… it was a necessary evil. I thought of the bond your soul forged when it chose me. I had always deemed it a weakness and in my own lowest point I was quite satisfied to use it against you. I never saw it for the strength it is."

"Strength?"

Bonnibel didn't blame her bewilderment. She shared it until recently. "Yes. While it might encourage your more… subservient traits it also grounds you and provides a focus for your immense power. More than that though… it allows you to feel connected to me in a way I never truly appreciated until you were…"

She trailed off. Marceline didn't. "Gone?"

"Yes," she confirmed, swallowing hard. "Gone."

Marceline looked up at the tree tops, holding her hat against the breeze as she shifted her position to sit more comfortably. "I guess, yeah, it's pretty nice. Like it's the only part of me that's still warm. Like… it reminds me you're still there."

"As if it's something bigger than yourself?"

Another shrug, less half-hearted, more self-assured. "Yeah. Kind of like you and science. The stuff, not the rat."

To her surprise, Bonnibel shook her head. "No, Marcy. Not like science. I may have devoted myself to the various fields of science but it isn't grounding in the same way. Research and discovery are never ending tasks, but it doesn't bring me comfort in my darkest nights. Not like you do."

"...You feeling okay, Bon? That's pretty sentimental for you."

We're about to find out I suppose. "I meant what I said before, Marceline. I need you. And because of that I have done something you will not approve of."

"Made another candy golem? Raised the dead again? Gave Pep a raise?"

"I went to the Nightosphere. While you were with the boys and Phoebe." She could feel the temper flare before Marceline even began to object.

A beat of silence. And then- "Are you insane?!" Her fuming was palpable and Bonnibel was surprised demonic fire didn't accompany it. "You went to the Nightosphere without me?! You could have been-"

"Killed, yes, I know. Pep accompanied me but it was no substitution for your protection-"

"Why the flip would you go there in the first place?!," Marceline all but snarled. Already her eyes were slitting, preparing for a fight long-since passed. Instinct was a terrible thing to waste.

Bonnibel took her hand, running her thumb soothingly over her calloused palm. She knew that her lover's rage wasn't aimed at her, not really. It was aimed at the situation, at the threat she hadn't been present for. It was the same level of paranoia the scientist possessed, the undertone of belief that those unworthy, those lesser and deplorable, could one day threaten what rightfully belonged to them. And she knew she was about to make it all worse. She had to. Please, bare with me. "I met with your father."

Marceline was on her feet, the hand not currently occupied by Bonnibel already shifting into a claw. "I'll kill him," she hissed icily. Before she could tear her way into her birthright dimension she was pulled back down by a pink hand wrapping around her wrist, a bit more forcefully than the candy golem intended, but effective all the same. "Bon, let me-"

"Finish. Let me finish. Please." Marceline narrowed her eyes, growling at the idea of being robbed of her kill, but the hand holding her wrist was too firm and to pull away from it ran the risk of hurting the one person she promised she would never harm. With one last growl of protest Marceline sat once again, grunting her reluctant approval. "Thank you," Bonnibel said with every bit of sincerity she possessed. "I met with him to get his… advice."

"Advice about what?," the musician asked coldly.

"This." The hand dropped from Marceline's wrist and instead snaked into the lavender bag as the vampire looked on first in curiosity, then in disbelief, and finally in something akin to disgust.

"...Bon. What is that." The young scientist rested the vambracer on the bag that once concealed it, its gold accents shining in the dim light that trickled through the treetops. Marceline would recognize the impossibly black material anywhere, knew it could only come not just from one place, but from one demon in particular. She wasn't sure what alarmed her more: that, or the blue jewel housed in its casing that belonged in a gold crown.

Marceline was asking so much and demanding even more. An explanation was the least Bonnibel could do for her. "I met with your father because I needed to know how your soul bond works. I needed to know-"

"What did he tell you."

She was tense, all manner of possibilities tearing through her mind, but there was one in particular Bonnibel knew she was most concerned about. The one lie she would need to maintain. For Marceline's sake- She must never be made aware that I know the truth of her mother. Of how she came to be. She could see it in her eyes, slitted against the existential threat. The panic. The trauma bubbling beneath the surface. But, more than anything, the fear. "Easy, little bat," she soothed, pulling the vampire closer against her.

Mercifully, Marceline let herself be held, even if her keen garnet eyes never left the vambracer. "He told me about the nature of soulbonds, and of how they are formed. He told me that bonds are formed through mutual offerings, and confirmed that I was indeed correct in that they are far more of a strength than a hindrance-"

"Did he mention that they're demon-only?" Her eyes darted to the bracer, the edge in her voice easing on the pressure. "You're not a demon, Bon. You're one tough gum, but-"

"But I am not and will never be a demon. However, I met this interesting demon-"

"Nax. He's the only one who can work with… that."

Her disgust was apparent and there was no sense denying it when she was so clearly right. "Yes. Naxal. He helped me make-"

"A giant globbin' mistake."

"Marcy. Please. Let me finish?" The subtext: You promised. There was a growl, a literal growl, as if Marceline was trying to restrain her considerable temper. Maybe you are. "He helped me make my decision, not simply because he aided me greatly in my offering's construction, but because he helped to clarify what I had long suspected."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

The sad smile returned. "What does your soulbond feel like to you, Marcy? When it is compelling you to kill anyone you suspect is a threat or would-be suitor."

Marceline's hand twitched, but she had understood the subtext of Bonnibel's request loud and clear. She was many things, had done many more, but would never break a promise. Even an implied one. "...It's nice," she begrudgingly admitted. "It feels good. You're part of me, so espesh' when we're together I feel stronger, you know?"

Bonnibel shook her head. "No, Marcy. I don't know." She motioned for Marceline to come closer, and with only the slightest bit of hesitation the vampire acquiesced until she landed fully, the pair almost touching. "You feel a compulsion to eliminate threats to my safety, and you feel the same compulsion to eliminate anyone who could potentially be a romantic rival. You know, logically, that I chose you and that I could never find someone else to be my equal. Not like you. But…"

She trailed off, and Marceline finished for her. "But there's a diff between knowing something logically and feeling it in your heartguts."

The candy princess rested her head on her lover's shoulder, feeling all of her eight centuries of life. "The disasters of our lives bind us absolutely. You told me that once. Do you still feel that way?"

"'Course, Bon. You're a brainlord, but you're my brainlord."

"Even when we were fighting?"

"'Spesh when we were fighting," she muttered, eyes dilating.

Interesting. Bonnibel filed that response away for review later. "Did you intend to return to Ooo? Before the boys and I followed you to the Nightosphere to retrieve you?" Marceline's silence was all the answer she needed. No, you didn't. You would have rather killed that part of yourself, quite literally. "I know I can be difficult. For all of my strengths I may err on the side of paranoia, and I don't always have as good of control over my temper as I would like to believe. For centuries I have fulfilled a role of my own design, and while it has its indisputable merits it also feeds into my more… unfortunate complexes." They both missed green eyes darting to the cloth covering the all-too-fresh scars on Marceline's neck. "When you were gone, Marcy… I could not anticipate how hard everything would become."

"Come on, Bon. I've taken off before." Her sagging shoulders betrayed that she knew how little that mattered. The situations were just too different.

"You have, yes, but those times I knew or at least strongly suspected you would be back if given enough time. This instance, however, was unlike anything we -" I, be honest, it's I "-had ever faced before, and I was terrified. I doubted you would ever return, and for the first time I had to contend with the possibility of enduring an eternity without you at my side. I realized, Marceline… that the only time I truly felt calm was when you were with me."

The admission was jarring, and Marceline couldn't help the hopeful skepticism in her voice. "Yeah?"

Bonnibel's grip on her arm tightened, as if she were afraid the rare exposure of her heartguts would scare her best friend off. Irrational, yes, but inarguable a fear. "You have never treated me as a role. To you, I was never Princess Bubblegum. I have always been Bonnibel to you."

"You used to hate that," Marceline muttered.

Bonnibel flinched. She deserved that. "...I did. I hated it because I felt it undermined what I was. I never entertained the possibility that I had it backwards, that being a princess undermined who I was. I was too-"

"Proud?"

Another wince, but she deserved that too. "...Too proud, yes, to consider that I was wrong, and that you were right. I became so enamored with my own power that I neglected you. Us. I knew when we initially left you to your own devices in the Nightosphere that our separation would hurt. I hadn't anticipated that the possibility of you never returning home would be so truly devastating."

"Miss me that much, huh?" Marceline rubbed the back of her neck nervously once more, as if she had never considered the possibility that her absence could ever truly hurt Bonnibel.

But it did, more than I can admit, even now. She tried anyway. "If I am truly honest, Marceline, I envy your soul bond. Yes, it can be used to manipulate you in cruel ways, but it also brings a kind of… peaceful security, I suppose. Something I cannot experience."

"Until now." Marceline's eyes flitted to the vambracer before returning to her companion.

Bonnibel held both her vampire and her offering tighter still. Marceline didn't notice. "Until now," she agreed, hushed. And then, the most painful admission she would ever make in her infinite life. "I need you, Marcy. I always have. That will never change." She gave a small, sincere smile. "You are the best sort of problem. You keep me grounded."

Marceline was quiet, staring at the black and gold object laying oh-so-innocently in Bonnibel's lap. It seemed to mock her, laughing at her insecurity and trepidation. What are you so afraid of?, it seemed to sneer. The twinkle of the sunlight on the gold ink was derogation, the blue gem derision, as if it was teasing her, just like-

And then she understood, a rare chill slithering down her spine. "...You used your crown. To make it. That's why you haven't been wearing it."

Bonnibel held up the vambracer to Marceline, almost begging her to inspect it. As if it could bite her the demon took it, reading the text oh-so-carefully inscribed across the gift. "Yes, Marceline. Well, in a way. Even if I did possess my crown still it would be quite inappropriate for me to wear-"

"Why?"

"Well, you're my mate and so it would be uncouth-"

"Bonnibel!"

Her smile was slightly wider now. "Marcy… an offering is meant to weaken the gifter. Correct?"

"Well yeah, but-"

"My crown is a symbol of authority, and in being so, in wearing it, I have used it as a weapon against you. It was a physical reminder that for hundreds of years I put my kingdom, something that would never have existed if not for you in the first place, ahead of your needs and desires. That is inexcusable, and it is better suited as ink to plead my case."

Marceline bit her lip, the fang easily piercing the flesh. She didn't notice, not until her princess kissed the side of her mouth in a gentle reminder. Only then did she let it go. "...But you used your royal gem. You need that." Don't you?

"Your needs are greater, little bat."

"...What? I mean, sure, because dad did some weird legal crank I'm tech Ooo royalty, but I don't need-"

"Hear me out. Royal gems enhance the natural abilities of its wearer, and while I would be willing to hear an argument that you don't exactly need enhancement to be a reckoning force they possess a secondary purpose. They protect against undue influence. While neither you nor I have any intention of giving your father's amulet another attempt you could still fall under another power, just as I once did with the Lich. More to the point, Marcy, you are still under the influence of your own demonic nature, something you have contended with even before you and I met. I hypothesize that the combination of both of my gem's capacities will mean your own natural strengths will be enhanced while mitigating your more… contentious traits."

It was rare, exceptionally unheard of, for anyone including Marceline to be allowed so closely to Bonnibel's royal gem. She watched the way it twinkled in the sunlight, felt the oddly warm facet as she trailed over it with her thumb. She held no animosity towards the inanimate object. After all, she could easily credit it for having saved the candy scientist more than once, and how could she hate anything that made her job easier? "...So you weaken yourself while making me stronger."

With her eyes closed the candy princess could almost feel Lady Evil's cool hands wrapped around her's. She could almost sense the weight of her crown's royal gem being pressed into her palm from when the demon had ripped it free from the metal to admire it, only to return it to its owner. Her voice, that memory poisoned her thoughts but not her resolve.

One day, Bonnie, you're going to be ready. And when that day comes, I want this back.

Could Lady Evil, absorbed now into Marceline's psyche, see this? Was she whitnessing her clumsy offering through her lover's eyes, whispering her own thoughts into the back of the vampire's mind? In a way Bonnibel hoped so, because it would make her more agreeable. In a much larger way, though, the possibility that the demon who represented Despair itself could have any influence at all over more over the love of her endless life made her bristle. "I hate the person I become without you," she admitted, reflecting on her conversation with Naxal.

And the arrogant, knowing smirk Lady Evil wore when she cryptically predicted exactly this situation. "You soften me into a person, not a role. You've always known me better than I know myself, and I never appreciated that until I lost you. When I came to this decision I realized that my crown had been a symbol of my pride and hubris, a testament to both my power and how often I've recklessly used it. It was an object with no intrinsic value, but I still treasured it more than I treasured you, and to make matters worse it was because I wore a crown that I wanted you to wear one, too. That desire almost wasted you. My pride has toppled enemy empires and made me the greatest force in all of Ooo, but it took almost losing you forever to see that my crown is only an object. An object that I valued more than my best friend."

"But your gem-"

"-and I are attuned, so it-"

"Bon, it saved you from the flippin' Lich-"

"Precisely. It grounded me and protected me, acting as my shield when I needed it most. Now you need it more, and I need you more than I need it, and due to the material's nature it will only come off when you so choose. This is security no one can take from you."

Marceline sighed, unable to argue with that kind of reasoning. Gingerly, as if it could bite, she picked up the vambracer, turning it over in her hands until the inscription was clearly legible. "...You're serious. This is for real."

Bonnibel nodded, as if Marceline weren't engrossed by the vambracer. "I am. Whether or not you accept my offer my crown is gone."

That weighed heavily on the vampire in a way she wasn't entirely certain she disliked. "So… Nax wrote this out for you?" Silence, and Marceline looked up, suspicious. Silence was seldom, if ever, a good thing, let no one say otherwise. "Bonnie?"

"...When I met your father-"

She understood immediately. "He gave it to you." Her grip turned hard, and were the vambracer made of anything other than the Substance it would have surely shattered.

"He lent his offering to your mother to me. Lent it. So that I could write my own promise," Bonnibel soothed. Promised. Soothed-promised.

It was enough, the memory of her mother stronger than the bile in her throat. She returned to the vambracer, tracing the Demonic text. Yes, now that she looked closer she would recognize her princess's dainty flourishes anywhere, even in a language she did not speak fluently. Marceline read every word of the younger woman's vow, jaw set against the onslaught of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her unprepared soul. Apart we are powerful. Together we are devastating. Her eyes flickered to where she knew The Morrow must have gone to occupy herself. Guess you're the proof of that, huh?

Enough. It was enough, if not too much entirely. She handed the vambracer back to a broken-hearted Bonnibel, broken-hearted at least until she realized she had missed what Marceline had whispered, quietly, as if afraid her own words could destroy her. "I'm sorry, Marcy?"

"...You have to put it on me," Marceline whispered, finally taking her eyes from the ground to meet her mate's.

Bonnibel's breath hitched in her throat, hope daring to overwhelm her normally controlled nature. "Does… this mean…?"

"It'll hurt you, you know," Marceline murmured. She would not look away, she refused. "You're not a demon, you're not meant to-"

"So… you accept…?"

Marceline froze at the question, the blatant heaviness threatening to drag her down into her greatest fears. In all honesty she wanted to run, wanted to avoid this just like she avoided all of her other problems. But Bonnibel looked at her, so hopeful, so trusting, poorly hiding the smile starting to crack her stoic facade. Marceline wasn't used to such a look from her best friend, not anymore, not for hundreds of years. It was a look of acceptance, a look of elation. More than anything, it was a look of love.

It broke her in the best of ways.

Holding out her left arm Marceline let her own smile show, something small but genuine. "...Yeah. I accept your offering, Bonnibel Bubblegum."

Bonnibel didn't hesitate to fit the vambracer around Marceline's arm, letting the latch click in place. Marceline marveled at how oddly comfortable it was, lightweight, just heavy enough to offer an odd sense of security. Once it was firmly secure she reached up, stroking down the warm gem with her right hand. Guess I'll need to think of an offering of my own, huh? She was sure Bonnibel would object, of course, but if she was going to immerse herself in demon culture then she was going to get the full package. After finally tearing her eyes away from the accessory that she knew she would never again take off she turned to her soulmate, ready to comfort her through the immense pain the musician could only imagine she was experiencing. "Bon?," she asked gently. "You okay?"

Marceline was wrong. Contrary to her warning, very contrary indeed, the binding didn't hurt in the slightest. It was instead a strange sort of brightness, a feeling that something that was once hollow had been filled by softness and warmth. Bonnibel imagined the jagger edges of her soul, those pieces that harmed even her if she wasn't careful, being soothed and dulled. A feeling of tranquility, like those rare moments she had the peace, quiet, and time to engage in a leisurely activity, fell over her. It reminded her of the first rays of moonlight signalling that a trying day had come to an end, and she could finally relax. It sparked memories of simpler times, of that delightful but awkward transition she and Marceline had once made from 'best friends' to so much more. More than anything, though, it felt as though something missing had come home.

"Easy, BonBon."

The world snapped back into place and Bonnibel realized with only a hint of embarrassment that reality had fallen away from her for some undisclosed amount of time. She was in Marceline's arms, head against her chest, breathing a tad more heavily than was strictly healthy. The vampire was stroking down her hair, arm wrapped around her waist as she murmured soft reassurances, apparently laboring under the delusion that the younger woman's unusual blush, erratic breathing, and inability to focus were the result of pain.

How far from the truth one could one get while still remaining on the same planet?

Bonnibel cleared her throat, moving to rise and resigning herself to not doing so when Marceline continued to hold her close. "Easy, BonBon," Marceline repeated, "it's okay. It'll pass."

But I don't want it to, Bonnibel mused. No, contrary to Marceline's warning, indeed very contrary, the binding hadn't hurt at all. Still, she let herself be held, admiring just how safe she felt in her mate's arms, how calming it was to be with the one person she knew she could truly trust. She curled against her queen more, taking in the feel of the demon's cool skin in the scarce places it was exposed, closing her eyes to enjoy the sounds of the breath she knew her oldest friend only took because it brought Bonnibel comfort. Is this how you feel, Marcy? Is this how your soulbind makes you feel when I come into contact with you? It would certainly explain a lot.

"Bon?"

Ah. Yes. My heartbeat is probably making her a tad nervous. More reluctantly than she would ever admit Bonnibel looked up, meeting the most beautiful pair of garnet eyes she ever knew. "Ah. Yes. Hi Marcy."

Marceline arched an eyebrow, not loosening her grip. "Yeah, hi, Bon. You alright there? Your heartbeat's going nutso, and your temp just like… shot up for no reason."

Oh, there was a reason, but not one she was ready or willing to admit. Not in public anyway. Maybe safely in the confines of our bedro- "...It didn't hurt."

"It didn't?" Marceline breathed a sigh of relief. "Rock. I was kinda worried when you fai-"

"Is this how you feel?"

The question was oddly quiet and Marceline tilted her head, exposing her ancient bite scars. "What do you-"

And then Marceline was being kissed. It was deep, it was loving, it was unrestrained, and she returned it before realizing she was doing so. When Bonnibel finally broke for air Marceline recovered first, thankful not for the first time that she had no such limitation. "...Oh. Yeah. That uh… yeah." Not her most eloquent reassurance, but the kiss had silenced some ancient, anxious part of her soul that she was used to being loud, distracting, and most troublesome.

Bonnibel recovered first. Not taking her eyes off of her stupefied queen the candy golem snaked her hand inside of her bag to retrieve a familiar whistle. "We should… get home. Before it gets dark."

The logic made no sense, but Marceline was happy for the excuse, not even noticing the shrill call that summoned The Morrow in short order. With more caution than should be afforded the demon picked her lover up before settling them both on the back of the great bird. Even as she sped home, the high wind necessitating a tight grip on Marceline's hat, the pair stayed touching, tense. Speech was impossible over the roar of air that The Morrow cut through but it was also unnecessary; Marceline's eyes were fixated on a very specific part of Bonnibel's neck, and Bonnibel was more than happy to hold on to Marceline tighter than was strictly necessary, letting her hand linger on what little exposed skin she could.

Landing meant Bonnibel needed to take the time to return her bird to her roost, but fortunately the steed's fatigue and hunger meant she was amenable to a short farewell and quick parting. Still, Marceline waited outside, wondering if the mount enjoyed her brief visit to her ancestral homeland, where the pair had once found her egg. It wasn't that Marceline disliked The Morrow; after all, she had helped raise her. But caring for the bird had fallen to Bonnibel after one particularly lengthy disappearance on Marceline's part, and the pet still had yet to forgive the vampire for leaving her, even if it had been temporary. Birds are weird. Not that she understood abandonment issues, no, of course not, don't be ridiculous.

Bonnibel exited the aviary, looking less flushed but no less distracted and the pair found their way back to her rooms wordlessly, both lost in thought if not for vastly different reasons. Marceline let her passenger down, watching as she went to lock the window and draw the black-out curtains against the low sun. The vampire's hat and gloves were shed carelessly to the floor, no longer necessary protection and were it not for her acute hearing she would have jumped when Bonnibel wrapped her arms around her waist from behind, pink cheek rested against her back. Marceline rolled her eyes as she turned, holding the scientist against her. Sudden bouts of affection were atypical, but welcomed. "You okay, Bon?" Wordless nodding. "It… didn't hurt?" Wordless head shaking. "Then… what did it feel like?"

"What did it feel like for you?"

That was an interesting question, one that merited more thought than Marceline typically gave to her sarcastic gut-reactions. "I guess… better? Familiar? Like-"

"Something came home?"

That was a pretty good summary. But. "How do you feel-"

"I miss you," Bonnibel whispered, hand tightening on Marceline's shirt. "It feels like coming home… and it reminds me how much I miss you."

Marceline tilted her head again, almost reminding Bonnibel that she was obviously right there as a joke to ease the tension. Almost. Because it did feel familiar, it did feel like something came home, and she knew, deep down, exactly what she meant by 'I miss you'. So much so, in fact, that this time Marceline kissed Bonnibel, allowing herself to be led away from the window and into the room, allowing herself to tumble onto the bed with her princess as Bonnibel dropped her bag at the foot, allowing herself to enjoy the sight of Bonnibel tracing her fingers down her offering.

The kissing resumed, clothes were shed, and memories of their shared life from before Marceline's psyche was shattered by the Chaos Amulet eagerly played themselves for the young scientist. She watched her vampire, her best friend and lover, her one true equal, tilt her head as if committing every detail of Bonnibel nude against her to memory. She seemed so nervous, so curious, and a pang of sadness fluttered through the candy golem's chest. How long had it been for her? Nine months? Less than a year for certain. Marcy was trapped in her mind for, subjectively, a century. Yes, it had been so much longer for the vampire and so just as they had when they were young and still so new to one another Bonnibel took the lead. She remembered everything so well, every little weakness, every little sensitivity, what every gasp and purr meant.

Marceline wasn't hard to seduce, not then and not now, but Bonnibel wanted to take her time. Still on a proverbial high from having her offering accepted, from the sensation of feeling a very real and literal connection to her mate, she wanted to remember every aspect of their time together. She wanted to go slowly, wanted to focus on helping Marceline remember what it was like to share her most intimate moments with the candy golem, encourage the boldness she knew lurked beneath the surface to reemerge. She let the vampire explore, let her kiss every inch of pink skin, not bothering to hide the noises she elicited, for Marceline was first and foremost a musician, an audible learner whose favorite sounds were always, first and foremost, Bonnibel herself.

Marceline left Bonnibel's chest, pink hand still tangled in her hair, kissing upward from the swell of her breast. She stopped suddenly at the candy golem's shoulder, and even in the dim light of the room the young scientist could see her staring at a particular spot where her neck met her shoulder, could see her struggling with some feeling. Or some doubt. With an impish smile Bonnibel leaned down until she knew her breath could be felt against her lover's sensitive ear and she could hear the rapid pulse in her neck. "Please," she whispered, granting the consent she knew Marcelien would do nothing without. Just like that, whatever lack of conviction existed in the vampire broke and her fangs, extended and ready, plunged into that magical spot. It was ecstasy for Bonnibel to feel her color drained, to know that in the process she was being marked as belonging to Marceline and Marceline alone. Even through the haze of pleasure, Bonnibel vowed not to hide the bite this time, to let the world know how proud she was to be her's.

It was deep in the evening by the time the two had collapsed, exhausted but at peace. Through the fog of her afterglow and small spasms she had missed so dearly Bonnibel felt the bed shift around her as Marceline tucked her in. Single-minded and driven even now to prioritize my comfort over your own? Silly vampire. The princess chortled softly and pulled Marceline down into the bed with a murmur of, "come here." Her work interrupted, the older royal gave a soft growl of protest that quickly morphed into a deep purr when Bonnibel snuggled into her arms, nestling her head in the crook of her neck. It made the candy golem smile as she traced soft patterns into the other immortal's skin, delighting in the way she shuddered under her touch even now. Marceline pulled Bonnibel close, scarcely aware of when her mate returned the favor and pulled the blankets around them both. She was too warm, too soft, and holding her like that, skin to skin, felt too blissful to worry about much of anything. This time neither woman fought against sleep, satisfied down to their very souls.

Marceline Abadeer dreamt about many things that evening. She dreamt of adventures she would have with her friends, of pranks she would play on unsuspecting souls, of concerts she would sell out. More than anything, though, she dreamt of Bonnibel, and the life they were now bound to share.