Real Talk: And we're back! For everyone who doesn't follow my tumblr, I was accepted into a Master of Fine Arts Creative Writing program! Hooray for me! As class begins in January that means it's become my goal to have Opening Act finished by the end of the year. Don't worry, though, as long as there's enough interest Headliner is still going to happen. I just need to make sure that I have a clean work slate as I'll be expected to produce original work. If there's enough interest in that as well I'll share my progress as I go; by the end of the program I'm basically expected to have a novel done.

Content Warnings:

Naked ladies

The things naked ladies typically do together (implied only)

And you thought I forgot [REDACTED] existed!

Feels, but the good kind

Jake is the real MVP

Bonnibel Bubblegum prized herself on her work ethic. The feeling of a job well done was never enough for her. After all, anyone with half a braincould do a job well with only a modicum of effort. Why should Princess Bubblegum, the smartest person alive, dead, or otherwise, lower herself to the standard of those whose greatest aspirations amounted to what could only be described as child's play to a woman who bent the laws of physics for fun?

It wasn't necessarily her intelligence in of itself that Bonnibel knew made her superior to her colleagues, or to the other residents of Ooo. She had centuries to hone her gifts, gifts she was naturally inclined towards in the first place. But work ethic? You couldn't teach that, that was something one had to be born with a knack for or otherwise suffer the crushing weight of mediocrity. Whereas others her biological age were preoccupied with hobbies Bonnibel had had the wisdom to make her work her hobby. It was so much cleaner that way, so much easier to make things work in her favor.

This wasn't to say that Bonnibel didn't like to have fun, she just had a different definition of 'fun' than most other people. She liked science and logic-based past times, inventing that which weaker minds could never even conceive of. Every creation she bore was a personal challenge and accomplishment, delivered with purpose and meaning. They improved her life and the lives of her children, if not Ooo as a whole. Some were appreciative, but most just looked at her funny, mumbling their appreciation with confused inflections that were just a tad insulting. No one understood her drive, her need to test herself and refusal to rest until her mission was complete and a new one took its place. No one, except for Marceline Abadeer.

The vampire queen was, in superficial appearance, Bonnibel's exact opposite. The candy golem was a woman fascinated by the natural world, whereas Marceline was a creative-type. Bonnibel was refined and sophisticated, whereas Marceline was vulgar and had a unique definition of 'style'. The older woman busied herself with arts, excelling in expressing herself and in turn helping others express themselves through what she made. Bonnibel's creations were hard and cold, but Marceline and her music? That made people feel good. It might not be tangible like Bonnibel's contraptions often were but they were sensory overload in the best of way.

That ability came as naturally to her as Bonnibel's proclivity towards science, but like her lover Marceline was never satisfied with what she developed, not for long and for one simple reason: if Bonnibel had one, true equal it was Marceline. The demon pushed herself just as hard, over and over, and though she was pleased with the results that feeling never satisfied her for long. There was always something new to try, some fresh idea to breathe life into, some new audience to reach and expose to new ways of feeling.

Appearances were deceiving: In all reality, Bonnibel Bubblegum and Marceline Abadeer could not be any similar if they tried. They just expressed those similarities in different ways.

Both women were jealous and possessive, stubborn and determined, proud and arrogant, with dark streaks that would be impressive were they not so objectively horrifying. Though they had their respective goals they ultimately considered themselves accountable only to one another, and when one ebbed the other flowed, always balancing each other, always keeping their twisted and beautiful stability intact. Whereas Bonnibel was manipulative and prone to sociopathic apathy Marceline was charismatic and prone to single-minded viciousness. They calmed one another as well and as often as they riled one another, soothing each other's vices just as often as they encouraged them. If only Ooo and its residents knew about such grotesque co-dependence, but they never would; they were too protective of one another, too loyal and, above all, too deeply in love to ever jeopardize the other's safety.

This wasn't to say Marceline and Bonnibel were implicitly malicious forces. On the contrary, Bonnibel exhausted herself on a daily basis to bring joy and stability to the lives of her citizens, those creations she considered her children whose safety she often placed above her own health and sanity. She would, and had, swallow her pride if it only meant protecting them another day, protecting any ally who managed the impossible and won her respect. Marceline had died twice, and for someone who considered herself a villain at worst and an anti-hero at best she put herself in harm's way on behalf of the helpless and innocent quite often. As often as she boasted of her immense power those who knew her best were well aware that that same power also terrified her, and that those nightmares that didn't involve losing her mate all involved losing herself and the desolation that would result.

As Jake liked to say, 'good' and 'evil' were just words, and the real world was too messy for them to have any meaningful definition.

What made the couple's situation a tragedy and not a series of regrettable sins were the pair's eternal youth. Marceline may have lived for over a thousand years, but she had been bitten and had her mind cemented at the age of nineteen, now forever stuck with the emotions and hormones of a teenager, unable to grow but also unable to die. Bonnibel's unique physiology, on the other hand, meant that she could choose to be whatever age she wanted with the right addition or subtraction of candy biomass, but she chose to stay the age of eighteen, sometimes teetering into nineteen herself when she lost track of time. Many, including Peppermint Butler, wrongfully assumed this was to please her lover. In reality it was because youth came with unrivalled vitality and energy, and she needed every scrap of it she could get to help her cope with the weight of the world her roles dumped on her shoulders. Really, Marceline didn't care what age Bonnibel was; she just cared about Bonnibel.

This was just one of the many misconceptions the world had about the pair. Even those who knew the people and not the roles would not, could not, understand their deep history, what exactly brought and kept the couple together. The tragedies they saw one another through bound them, the ties that kept them connected sometimes appearing as a hangman's noose, other times as a lover's bind. It depended on the day, the perspective, the mood. The pair squabbled and fought bitterly sometimes but would never fail to defend one another with primal ferocity. Even before the soulbond both immortal women would only answer to one another, would only experience remorse if they wronged one another. They knew one another's tragedies, and when one could not face her demons the other would shield her, love her, protect her. They may never say those three little words other couples flaunted so effortlessly, but in their case those words were more powerful left unspoken.

This was not to say they did not express their love for one another, they merely did so in their respective languages. Bonnibel had funded Marceline's music in the very beginning, before her raw talent and natural showmanship brought her fame and carved her path. Even if she did not understand artistic endeavors, at least the musical career's inception, she knew Marceline needed her music, and that was all the candy golem needed to know to throw every bit of support at her feet. Marceline, on the other hand, had heard of her scientist's dream of founding her own kingdom and assured it happened, brick by brick, body by body.

It had, of course, all gone terribly wrong slowly, as the most terrible of tragedies tend to unfold. Neither would ever be able to pinpoint a moment when they would be able to say 'yup, there it is,' but neither felt so inclined, either. Maybe in her younger years, Bonnibel would have as an intellectual exercise. But the past year had been a harsh teacher, and even now, soulbond cemented and lover proverbially warming her bed, she was unwilling to let herself forget those lessons, or just how close she had come to losing the most important part of her life forever. Having snatched victory from the jaws of defeat came saddled with the trade-off that she would need to Grow as a person and as a partner, that it was no longer acceptable to hide the emotions she once scorned, least of all from her queen. To be loved, and to love, meant to express vulnerability, and who could she trust to shield her heart and keep it close as if it were treasure if not Marceline Abadeer?

The half-demon and reluctant Heir to the Nightosphere had, in secret, spent many nights pondering this exact situation, especially recently. Memories of her time trapped in her own mind were beginning to poke through, and even if she could not deny it. At first it had been easy to look the other direction and cover her eyes and ears so that she did not need to face her trauma her trauma had, apparently, decided that wasn't good enough. Her impromptu battle with the woman who was the embodiment of her own rage and jealousy in the Fire Kingdom hadn't just been the latest symptom of an unhinged mind, it had been a sign that running was no longer an option. Not from Usurper, and not from anything else in her Unlife.

It was a small miracle that Bonnibel hadn't pressed the issue very hard when she came home singed and bleeding, because it gave the musician time to digest her experience. The appearance of the madwoman was upsetting, certainly, but it was actually the arrival of Tyrant that unsettled Marceline more, and it took precious time for her to even attempt to gleam why. Memories came back not in pictures but in emotions, and the presence of the woman who embodied not just loyalty but submission and self-deprecation as well had inspired the floodgate to open. It made the vampire question not just what she was doing but why she was doing it, and oh how she hated questioning her own motives. It was so much easier and fun to Just Do Things.

But if Bonnibel was to be dedicated in improving herself as a person and partner how could Marceline not? How could she deny her mate the same courtesy, and herself the same respect? It was hard and uncomfortable, but she threw her own pride to the wind and opened herself up to the truth of what had happened to her. Still solid memories evaded the demon, but the emotions were there, and every night she would hold Bonnibel close, skin against skin, and use her rhythmic breathing as a metronome to steady her thoughts. The younger woman's warmth was as hypnotic as it was grounding, the knowledge that despite all the princess had experienced she still trusted the undead woman in her most vulnerable states humbling the older woman. Soon patterns began to form in her mind, gradually at first, but the presence of the soulbond emboldened her. One day she would ask her lover and best friend if it made any objective sense, but for the time being she was content with a simple analogy: her brain no longer had to dedicate energy to the futility of an incomplete soulbond and now how the wherewithal to to figure out… well, everything else about her existence.

All roads lead back to Bonnibel Bubblegum. The younger immortal's personal development was nothing short of remarkable, and beneath Marceline's swell of pride lurked shame. Shame, because she had been so wrapped up in her own mental and physical trauma that it had never occurred to her that the candy golem was suffering anything, least of all in silence. The chest stuffed full of abandoned suitor declarations cured the demon of her blissful ignorance and brought the ugly truth to the surface, and for the first time since the establishment of that sacred soulbond Marceline had to contend with a threat to her beloved that she couldn't tear in half or beat into submission. If anything, this was her own doing: the defiance of her own birthright meant that, legally speaking, their relationship could not exist because Bonnibel might be a scientist but Princess Bubblegum was one of if not the most powerful monarchs in the world, legally obligated to only accept another monarch as a paramour. It had never even occurred to the singer to look for another way or some obscure loophole. She was too stalwart in her refusal to Mature.

In her heart of hearts, where Marceline could hurt herself with the truth in the privacy of her own despair, she knew Bonnibel deserved better than what she was. The question was what to do about it. In her own younger years, before her mind shattered, she would have simply run off, because running was so much easier. Her experiences, and her recovery, brought a new form of wisdom though, and it was that every time she ran from Nothing she hurt the younger woman. As her cool hand laced warm, pink fingers under solemn cover of night she wondered how she could have ever brought herself to do that. After all, was her most sacred duty not to her princess? The solution was obvious, if not a hard pill to swallow: She had to become worthy. She had to become Better.

Here in their shared bedroom, far too late for overworked candy scientists to be awake, Marceline Abadeer mulled her actions - past, present, and future - in her mind, turned them over every which way to be sure that they looked the same at every angle. They did, and she decided her fate the moment she kissed the back of Bonnibel's head, pulling the younger woman against her. It's not too late to change your mind, her subconscious whispered from the back of her brain. It was bitter, but its traditionally acrid tone had been muted since the Elementals Event, when sweet candy whispers overpowered Marceline's own mental toxicity and warped her body and mind. Now, years later, it was easier to ignore those thoughts, easier still with the vambracer resting against her lover's bare stomach. Still, she entertained the musings, not because she wanted her mind to change but indeed because she knew it never would. Not now. Why would I? In her own mind, railing against her still-healing psyche, Marceline's voice sounded cold. I want this.

She did, that much was true. When she realized the truth, when she first called her old bandmates and put her plan into action she did so wondering all the while how she could ever want anything else. Emboldened now by their flabbergasted but sincere praise, the woman once destined to end the world challenged her darker thoughts to speak against her decision, to question her motives or purity of her intent. To her surprise, to her disappointment, even her ever-present rage was silent on the topic and her challenge went unanswered. It was just as well; this concert was an act of love just as much as it was an act of redemption. The vampire knew that she deserved neither, but if Bonnibel was going to offer these gifts freely Marceline knew she could, nay she would, swallow her pride and accept her lover's good graces with humility.

The logical part of her mind, small as it was, gently chided her insomnia. Ironic, given that this small part of her mind so often had the comedic nerve to sound like Bonnibel. You need your rest, it whispered, not unkindly. Your concert is tonight. You've spent so long preparing for this moment.

Marceline didn't need to be reminded, but she no longer had it in her to squabble with Bonnibel's likeness. Even now, that voice sounded like the sweet whispers that once lured her to madness. Even now, they brought her comfort, muzzling her ever-present aggression until even her soul felt pacified. I know, she acknowledged, having long ago given up concern that she was talking to herself. Or that herself talked back. I can't sleep. Under cover of darkness she blushed at the admission.

It is an important night, the likeness of Bonnibel's voice soothed. She'll love it. But adrenaline can only take you so far, and you know how much it interferes with your memory and performance.

Marceline groaned. Mentally. Please don't science at me. I get it enough from the real BonBon, I really, really don't want to be scienced at right now.

The laugh that met her objection was Bonnibel's. Not for the first time, the vampire wondered if she should admit to the spectre of her lover existing inside of her mind, of how it had made itself known off and on since the Elemental Event, but even for the candy golem some things were just too weird to be acceptable. It was easier to ignore it and let the voice comfort her in the rare moments she felt too weak to fight. Then you know what to do. Rest and I won't be able to 'science' at you. A heavy pause, then- And it isn't 'sciencing', Marceline. It's an explanation of-

How could she feel air quotes in her own brain? Regardless, she could, and it made her smile just as much as it irked her. Alright, chill, dork. I'm going, I'm going. Mind-numbing lecture successfully avoided, the demon looked over her shoulder as best she could without jostling the woman slumbering peacefully in her arms, to the nightstand she kept the invention that made her night music in. It would have been simple enough to retrieve, but at the last moment she decided against it. Instead she settled against the young scientist, memorizing the feel of soft, warm curves against her, drinking in the intoxicating warmth that the soft blankets prevented from escaping. As much as she loved those weird little earbuds, right now Marceline loved listening to her princess more. Her soft, rhythmic breathing and the occasional, gentle sigh were the only music the vampire needed that night, and despite her earlier protests sleep found her.

Slumber would hold her, gently or otherwise, until that same voice reached her once more. This time, however, it did so from outside of her mind. "Marcy?" The older woman grunted, less of an objection and more of a wordless 'yes, I hear you, give me a moment to come to the door'. When her eye creaked open she was greeted by her favorite sight: a nude Bonnibel. Who, judging by how she ignored Marceline's lecherous smirk, either arranged such a sight on purpose or was willfully ignorant of it entirely. "I thought it might be a challenge to wake you otherwise."

Ah. First one, then. That worked. "I'm up, I'm up," she declared around her yawn, the force of which caused her eyes to close. "Thanks for waking me, Bon."

Bonnibel lifted an eyebrow, letting her own gaze travel south when Marceline rolled onto her back to stretch. Only for a moment, though. By the time those garnet eyes returned to her all incriminating smiles and blushes had been set aside. "I admit, I am surprised by the request. You typically sleep late on concert nights."

The half-truth came easily, as all things do with practice. "Yeah, but I usually fly solo with my concerts. Gotta make sure the rest of the band is up to speed. Most of the songs I gave 'em they know already, but a couple are new, or changes to things we haven't done in awhile."

Bonnibel pondered that logic, but didn't question its validity. Marceline might possess a devil-may-care attitude about most things in life, but both the princess and her music were exceptions. They meant too much for her normally lackadaisical lifestyle. "That's true. Is that your plan for today? Work with them to prepare?"

Technically, yeah. Technically correct was the best kind of correct. "Yeah." And now for the gamble. She couldn't risk Bonnibel seeing through her ruse, but it was even more risky to have her underfoot. The younger woman was the schemer, Marceline was usually better at winging situations. She was dreadfully out of her element here. "I hate to ask, Bon, but since I gotta make sure they're ready can you make sure that the stage and stuff is all set? Normally I'd do it, but I kinda got my hands full."

To her infinite relief, the princess agreed immediately and without any hint of suspicion. "Of course, Marcy. Everything will be done by sunset, I assure you."

The onyx-haired woman smiled, both at the enthusiasm lacing her best friend's voice and the reassuring kiss to her cheek. "Thanks, BonBon. Wanna make any sort of speech before we start? Something along the lines 'Grasslands Tragedy, blah blah blah?'"

When Bonnibel pulled away Marceline found herself missing her warmth. "No. It's better that everyone take your concert as a signal that they should begin rebuilding their lives. Dwelling won't help them. Better for you to lift their spirits than for me to remind them as to why you're going to the trouble. Would you like to shower now, or before the concert?"

"Concert, definitely." It came out in a rush, but Bonnibel didn't seem to notice. Or, at the very least, she chocked it up to nerves and politely didn't draw attention to it. "I probs won't see you before it all starts. I'll keep your normal spot open in the front row?" She winced at that, at how the sentence ended as a question and not a statement. Guess old habits die hard. Like her assuming she's gonna bail on me.

The scientist spared her queen one last look, a smile of reassurance, before leaving the bed and strolling towards the bathroom. "Of course," she whispered warmly. More was said in just those two words, but the younger woman mercifully spared them and instead headed for the shower. "I'll be out shortly, Marcy!"

The door clicked shut and Marceline immediately sprung into action, diving for the one place in the room she was certain Bonnibel would never look in those weird moments she became fixated on rearranging her stuff: Schwabl's bed. To his credit, the zombie poodle didn't object to his owner's erratic actions. He understood. He always did. As her cool hand slid under the squishy object the musician found herself grateful for four things. The first was that Bonnibel hadn't questioned the number of love marks Marceline had left on her, because it meant she would be delayed in her bathing as she would undoubtedly have to take extra time into choosing how to deal with that reality. The second was that the bathroom was sound-proof; she couldn't hear Bonnibel, but that meant Bonnibel couldn't hear her either. The third was that Jake, despite being the kingdom's most notorious gossip, could be trusted to keep the most important secrets of all, and in exchange for the vampire confirming his suspicions of why she was seemingly needlessly delaying her concert for 'preparation purposes' he had managed to sneak in the prize hidden under the dog's bed: a cell phone. The fourth thing she was grateful for? That Phoebe picked up immediately. "Hey, Pheebs," she murmured quietly.

"Marceline, this is a surprise. Congratulations on having access to modern technology again."

The demon rolled her eyes at the bemused tone, but left it unaddressed. "Yeah, it was hard sneaking it into the castle." Translation: Bonnibel doesn't know I'm talking to you and I'd like to keep it that way.

Misunderstanding the intent of that sentence, something darkened in Phoebe's tone. "Yes, Jake mentioned that he was sneaking you in a lifeline without Bubblegum's knowledge."

Marceline silently retracted her previous praise of Jake. "Okay, it's not what you think-" Stopped. Rethought. You don't have long, Marceline, speed it up. "Look, I don't have time right now, I'm trying to beat the clock here. I'll explain everything later, but I need to ask you for a big favor."

"Is it to come to the concert?," Phoebe mused. "Because it should go without saying that I already am."

"No. I mean, yeah. I mean…" Stopped again. Sighed. "Okay, it's related to the concert. I need your help in a mondo big mega way, mostly 'cause I can't tell you why right now. Walls might have ears."

"Alright," Phoebe replied carefully, perhaps trying to ascertain whether or not Marceline was being paranoid or in some domestic hotseat. "What's the sitch, girl?"

"I need you to distract Bonnie for me. Long as you can, up until the concert starts if you can. I asked her to make sure the stage and junk is all set to go, but knowing her that's gonna take her like an hour, tops-"

"And you're up to something that she can't know about, so she can't know where you'll be," Phoebe concluded. "Who did you maim, and or kill?"

Marceline hesitated. "It's not like that-"

"Marcy, you snuck a cell phone into the castle under cover of night without Bubblegum's permission." And, before she could be corrected- "Oh, I'm sorry, her knowledge."

That stung, but wasn't unwarranted. The musician was playing with fire here, both literally and metaphorically. "It's not like that," she repeated. "Phoebe, please? I for realzorz need this."

The deep sigh meant she won, and from her end Marceline grinned in victory. "Alright, but I want deets later. How do you want me to distract her?"

There was the unmistakable sound of shuffling by the door, which could only mean that Peppermint Butler was arriving any second now with his liege's breakfast. Marceline cursed inwardly. Outwardly, she said the first thing that came to mind. "I don't know, anything you can think of. Chess, trade pact, start a fight-" Stopped a third time, this time eyes wide when she realized what she had said in her distracted state. "Wait, don't do that last one-"

"Consider it done."

She could feel Phoebe's smirk on the other end, even as the line went dead. Marceline pulled the phone away, staring at it in abject horror. "...Well. I'm dead. Definitely dead." The bathroom door clicked at the exact moment Peppermint Butler knocked and announced his presence. Before she could think of a place to stash the contraband in her hand Schwabl, perhaps sensing his owner's anxiety, snatched the device and meandered back to his bed. By the time Bonnibel emerged, wrapped in a fluffy pink robe that had more than one conspicuous grey spot, the dog was either asleep or a very convincing faker. Good boy. I'm gonna dig up the biggest bone in the world for you. "Think Pep's here, Bon. Want me to give him a heart attack?"

"Not particularly," she said with just a small quirk of her lips. She spared her lover a suspicious stare before she moved to let her butler enter; the words may have looked malicious, but there was clear jest in the musical voice.

"Lame," she groaned as she dug her own robe out from the side of the bed. While she didn't particularly shy away from her own nudity there was the unspoken agreement that such a sight was for her lover's eyes only.

She was still tying her grey robe closed when the Candy Kingdom's major domo strutted in. Perhaps sensing her malintent, Peppermint Butler's gaze immediately fixed on Marceline. He squinted, positively glowering when she stuck her forked tongue out at him. "Miss Abadeer. Still here, I see. How unfortunate."

His disapproving tone was met with a sweet, icy- "Pep."

His face fell, and his palpable fear was a fantastic start to Marceline's day. "Your Majesty?" He dared to meet his mother's eye, and was abruptly reminded why the demon often called her gaze 'piercing'. Fetching the cart with his creator's breakfast was an adequate way to spare himself of it, but it couldn't shield him against her honey-sweet fury.

"We have discussed this. At length. You do know I hate repeating myself. I will do it only once more. Marceline is not my guest, she is not visiting for tea, she is my mate and she lives here. While I would like to remain impartial regarding your long-standing and quite frankly baffling feud, in this particular instance she has not actually done anything." The 'yet' was implied, and inconsequential. "You do not need to like one another, but I do require civility. I made you to be better than baser urges like needless acridity. Now, both Marcy and I have a long day and night ahead of us. Please, resume your duties. You are dismissed."

Never before had the vampire seen a mint scurry away so quickly, or choke out such a hushed apology. Yet as entertaining as his panic was, it paled before the reality that Bonnibel had just verbally eviscerated someone on Marceline's behalf, and not just a nameless individual or someone of little consequence. She knew, logically, that the princess had protected her from Ooo's biting comments - among other things - before, and had done so for hundreds of years. But to see it, unprompted and unremorseful? That was flooring in the best of ways, and Marceline found herself speechless. Among other things.

"Marcy? Are you alright?"

That snapped her back to reality. "Uh… yeah. I'm good. Did you just tell off Pep?" For me?

Bonnibel sighed, hand resting on the handle to her wardrobe. The voice that responded wasn't that of Marceline's best friend, nor was it one that belonged to the ruler of the Candy Kingdom. It was something entirely new, a fusion of both who the candy golem was as a role and as a person. It was the tone of voice Princess Bubblegum used when she had been gravely insulted, laced with the ire Bonnibel only allowed herself to admit before her queen. "Please try to understand, Marceline. Pep is fully aware of our soulbond, and given his knowledge of the Nightosphere it is safe to assume he knows of the gravity of our shared situation. Whether or not he chooses to accept it we are, by the custom of your race and culture, one soul. It doesn't matter that we reside in Ooo, the fact remains that he is aware of the nature of our relationship and chose to instigate."

And now Marceline was in the awkward position of defending her ancient nemesis. She did so, averting her gaze and rubbing the back of her neck. The truth tended to have that effect on her. "I mean… I'd probably have done something."

"Yes," Bonnibel concurred. "But you hadn't. He and I may have a very laid back and cordial working relationship, and I do consider him a dear friend, but to insult you is to literally insult me as well. I will tolerate such slights when you start it and scold you instead, but this is different. He is my second, and I am his creator." She stopped, fingers drumming on the door handle before she resumed searching for an outfit. "Even if I don't approve, I can reasonably expect you to be…"

When she trailed off, Marceline smirked. "Childish?"

"Inciting. It's in your nature. It's different with him."

Marceline raised an eyebrow, taking the opportunity to look through her trunk for her own outfit. "Why?"

To her surprise, Bonnibel smiled as she began to dress, the tension easing from her shoulders. "You have excellent impulse control. You just have a lot of impulses. Controlling his actions comes naturally to Pep, and so I hold him to a different standard. I know what he's capable of. I built him." Marceline stared at the surprising sentiment, and in her heart of hearts Bonnibel found the expression endearing. "Come, Marcy. Let's have breakfast."

The vampire nodded mutely, barely registering when her princess lifted the dome that contained her morning meal. It didn't surprise the older monarch that there was only one. This gesture she knew wasn't meant to be an insult; it was no secret that Marceline was still adjusting to traditional food. Well, traditional for her anyway. Regardless, she was refusing most food and what she did eat tended to be unconventional, even by her standards. At least the tranch is feeding Bon better. Sweetened toast with honey and jam awaited the princess, served with berries - blueberries, Marceline realized - and some syrupy beverage. Definitely an improvement over his boring staple of pancakes. The demon pulled away to begin dressing, but the warm hand on her rest wrist stilled her.

"Eat," her favorite voice softly commanded.

She turned to give some well-meaning snark about Bonnibel apparently wanting Marceline to finish off her robe after all, but beside the candy golem's plate sat something that wasn't there a moment ago: a smile pile of red jelly beans. The snark died in her throat. "...Thanks," she whispered. The hand tugged again and Marceline sat next to her mate. From the corner of her eye she saw Bonnibel's smile widen when the demon sank her fang into the produced candy. Her appetite was gradually improving, and that was something else they would have to talk about. That and the scar that encircled her neck. "Bon-"

The phone on the desk interrupted the pair and Bonnibel frowned. "Sorry, Marcy." She stood, setting her now empty plate on the tray and Marceline let her go. That phone only rang for official, kingdom-related business, and for a brief, horrible moment the musician saw in her mind's eye the past play out. Something's gonna take you away from tonight, huh? Figs.

"Yes?," Bonnibel spoke into her phone, blissfully unaware of her lover's sinking heart. "Yes." A pause. "Excuse me?" Another pause, but even from behind Marceline could see the younger woman seethe. "No, of course not!" Pause. "Don't you dare-" This time there was the sharp intake of breath as the phone was slammed down.

"You okay, Bon?"

Composure required her attention be directed elsewhere, and the candy golem channeled her fuming by finishing her dressing. "I apologize, Marcy. I'll need to cut our breakfast short. It seems Phoebe," the name was spat, but on the inside the singer smiled, "has some quite frankly ludicrous objections to the location of the concert tonight. It's to benefit the Grasslands! Of course it would be in the Grasslands!" Small miracles, Marceline controlled her laughter. By the time she received the goodbye kiss to her cheek she successfully looked baffled. "I'll see you tonight, alright? Knowing how Phoebe's objections so often go, I have to assume this will take the better part of the day. Don't worry, though. I promise I'll make sure everything is all set."

"No worries, Bon," she shrugged. "Royal junk, I get it. You'll be there though, right?"

"I promise." There was no hesitation. "Same seat you always save for me."

And then she was gone, leaving Marceline alone with an odd combination of relief and mounting anxiety. If it ever came to light that she was the cause of Princess Bubblegum's exasperation she might die a third time, and this time permanently. Not that Phoebe would rat me out. I hope. The younger Elemental was quite adept at not spilling her undead friend's secrets, but who knew how far her policy of transparency extended. It was better not to think about it, and instead she moved to the next phase of her plot, silently thanking the Flame Elemental for her quick thinking. The phone was retrieved a second time, but with no more risk of an eavesdropping Peppermint Butler - not after that tongue-lashing - or Bonnibel herself, the musician relaxed. Not a lot, but enough that her voice no longer betrayed her misgivings. Alright, now I just need you to pick up-

"You in the clear?"

Marceline answered Jake's question with one of her own. "You told Phoebe?!"

"Not everything!" He tried to sound defensive, but it only came out as a repressed laugh. "But I figured you'd need all the back-up you could get for the concert tonight. See, I'm not even gonna lecture you 'bout not thanking me for the phone, that's how great a guy I am."

"Fine, yeah, thanks." If insincerity could kill. "Well, I asked her to distract Bonnie, so she's gonna be at the stage all day."

"Oof. Doesn't that make it harder, though? Isn't it gonna be suspicious when she sees the rest of the band there and you… not?"

Marceline shook her head. "Nah, thought of that. They're a lot better than I had to give 'em credit for. They know what I need 'em to do, they're just doing it in my recording studio. They'll beat me there, but that's pretty normie for concerts that aren't all the way at night."

"...You have a recording studio?!" She could feel his squint down the end of the phone. "What, you got something against violas? Not welcomed in your fancy recording studio?"

"Jake, you can play there if you want," she chuckled. "But it's in one of the sub-basements of the Candy Kingdom castle, so it takes like ten thousands years to get down there. Safely, anyway."

"Fine," he groaned in defeat. Then his mood returned to as it was. "So what's the haps next?"

She hesitated at that. "...You haven't told Finn, right?"

He snorted. "Finn? Nah. Kid can't keep a secret to save his life."

"Jake, you can't keep a secret to save your life."

"Nah, man. I totally can, I just choose not to. I didn't choose the gossip life, it chose me. Noble calling, you wouldn't understand."

That didn't warrant follow-up. "So what does he think you're going to be doing all day?"

"He thinks I'm with Lady."

"And she's…?"

"Picking up Simon." She made a noise of what she guessed was shock. "What? Your first… 'concert'," she could feel his air quotations, "since your life-altering trauma. Figured you'd want him there."

"Oh." It took Marceline longer than she cared to admit to overcome her shock. "That's… really thoughtful, Jake. Thanks." He said something encouraging, something self-gratifying, but his comments had led her to a different question. "So what's Finn going to be doing today?," she whispered.

He understood her disquiet. "Hey, you're worryin' for nothing, Marce. You're gonna be fine. S'all gonna be fine. Little brother's off with Huntress Wizard."

...Oh. "Yeah, you never did finish telling me about that."

He chuckled. "You got your 'concerned big sister' voice on." She blinked. Did she? "Don't worry, I'm pretty sure Huntress Wizard knows you'll hunt her down if she hurts Finn. He's gonna be fine, too." He paused, letting her come to terms with both the implied threat - which was entirely accurate, she would absolutely rip out the younger woman's spine if she broke Finn's heart - and the fact the boy she considered a little brother was slowly becoming a man. "Sooo… did you, you know… get the stage ready?"

She frowned, but didn't fault his curiosity. After everything he was doing for her, would be doing for her later, mostly unbidden. She owed him that much. "No. I probs should, but whatever Bonnie does is going to be better than what I could come up with. It's too important for me to mess up," she sighed. It was a hard thing to admit to, but Marceline had a vague memory of a world of thorns and Jake's strange insight being the only reason she didn't succumb to them. Maybe one day she would ask him about it. Today was not that day. But it made it so much harder to decline to answer his questions, even the personal ones, especially when they were so relevant.

"Eh, I hear ya. Pretty sure she'd love your taste in stage design, but she's pretty particular. It's gonna be fine," he assured once again. "Just do what you always do. You know she's gonna love it."

"Been awhile, since…" She trailed off, unable to finish that sentence.

"Concerts are hard stuff. Not for me, but I get how they can be super import. Just do what ya do, Marce. Your bros got ya."

"Yeah," she breathed. "Thanks, Jake."

"No probs. Go finish your stuff up. You don't have long, and it's a packed audience out there! I'll meet ya there with my viola!"

And then the line went dead, and Marceline collapsed on the bed. Her emotional exhaustion was already eating at her, and the main event hadn't even begun yet. Phoebe has Bonnie distracted. Lady's getting Simon, that'll be awkward. Probs for the best, though. Finn's with Huntress Wizard. That last one was particularly uncomfortable, even if she couldn't place why. Instruments are already there. Peppermint Butler was a loose end. 'Was' being the operative word, and Marceline smirked. Bon made sure of that one for me. Rock. She sat up, looking to the dog bed. "You wanna come, Schwabl?" He huffed, but didn't open his eyes. "Cool, I can respect."

Marceline rolled off the bed, stretching as she glanced to the time on her phone. Normally she left getting ready for her concerts until the figurative last minute, but this one held too much importance to too many people. Better to be ready early and have to rush the rest of her plans than be thorough in her plans and rush getting ready. The first step: a long shower. Dropping her robe in the hamper she retreated to the bathroom to take her own shower, stopping only long enough to appreciate her own love marks. What she saw made her chuckle. "Well, looks like I got it as good as I gave it. Well played, Bon." It was almost a shame none of them would be visible at the concert. Unlike the younger immortal, Marceline had no qualms with showing off her trophies. The scar on her neck was a different story.

Even so, the searing shower was bliss against her aching muscles. Between Bonnibel and her own restlessness Marceline was sore, wincing at the sound of her spine snapping into alignment when she stretched. As she bathed on autopilot her thoughts turned to that tell-tale scar. On the one hand, it wouldn't be unusual for her to choose an accessory that would successfully hide it. It's not like anyone uninvolved knows it's even there… And yet, the thought made her hesitate. It wasn't shame that drove her desire to hide the scar, at least not anymore. It burned still, that much was true, but it wasn't anything she couldn't ignore and it gave her hope that the nerve damage, or whatever the cause was, was temporary. Instead what drove her to hide was the memory of the event that bore that scar.

She knew, logically, that it wasn't her own fault the Chaos Amulet had preyed upon her, and she no longer blamed Bonnibel for her wearing it in the first place. Princess Bubblegum had been self-absorbed, but ultimately she had done what she thought was right. It was horribly misguided, that much was inarguable, but her motives hadn't been purely malicious. In her emotionally stunted heart this had been the only way she knew of to not just come forward with their relationship, but to make her own private anguish of relentless suitors stop. What would I have done? It wasn't the first time Marceline had asked that question, but she had yet to find a satisfying answer. She simply didn't know.

But that cop-out was no longer good enough of an answer because it had very real consequences, consequences that she could no longer ignore just because it was hard or painful. I'd do anything for Bonnie. It wasn't the first time Marceline had had that thought either, but for the first time in six centuries, 'anything' didn't mean violence, and that was a terrifying prospect. The thought stuck with her, haunting her as she turned the water off. It followed her as she dried off, her gaze never straying from that taunting piece of purple cloth on the sink counter she counted as her shield. Her lifeline to the illusion that Nothing Happened. ...I can't. Not tonight.

With that she floated out of the bathroom, towels in the hamper, purple cloth still on the counter. She dressed on autopilot; even if concert outfits required care - especially this concert - she had performed hundreds before, if not thousands, and like most artists she had an established routine. The only thing different was the act of braiding her own hair. Telekinesis was technically proficient, but it was a poor substitute for Bonnibel's gentle touch. She smiled at that, letting the memory of warm, pink hands accompany her as she prepared her wardrobe. A crimson short-sleeved blouse she knew would highlight the garnet of her eyes - let her audience wonder about the vambracer for all she cared - enhanced with skin-tight black pants she knew her lover was particularly fond of. It was almost a trance, the memory so much more pleasant than the monotony of preparing, broken only when her red boots were being slid on. The pair with 'BONNIE' written at the bottom of her left boot. Fitting.

A quick glance at the time on her phone confirmed that she was running out of it. Taking her time in preparing had calmed her, but it had also eaten more of her day than she had anticipated. "Alright, Schwabl. Wish me luck." He huffed again as she strapped her bass to her back and snatched her parasol and a small device from her bedside table, never opening his eyes. "True, true. Well, you're in charge of the room. Well, I guess… share that authority with Science. Don't let it go to your head!" She chuckled as she opened the door. She stopped chuckling when a familiar frown greeted her. Instead, she smirked derisively. "Didn't know mints could slink away with their tails between their legs, Pep."

His frown evolved into a scowl. "Miss Abadeer," he replied icily. Then he spotted her neck, and his expression softened. "...Without your cloth, I see."

Only because it was a statement without a trace of judgement did Marceline not reply with biting sarcasm. "...Bon's been through enough," she began cautiously.

"Agreed." When she refused to shy away from his gaze he broke first, sighing. "I wish to be quite clear. I do not like you. You are a ne'er-do-well, a blackguard, a no-goodnik, and I will sleep better at night when she evicts you from the premises and chooses anyone else." When she opened her mouth he lifted his hand, dropping the scowl entirely. "I do not like you," he repeated, "but Her Majesty does. It is my greatest hope that one day she comes to her senses. Until such time… make her happy, Miss Abadeer."

She stifled the growl in her throat. This was the most civil the two had been since the Elemental Event, and Marceline wouldn't let Peppermint Butler claim later that she was the one who ruined it. For the first and possibly only time in her Unlife she had the moral high ground, and it felt fantastic. "That's the point, Pep."

He levelled her with a stare, not harsh, but heavy. "...Good luck tonight." The sincerity in those three words stunned her, and when he toddled away, muttering profanities under his breath at her expense, she let him go.

"...Huh." The vampire shook her head as she pulled the door shut. "That was weird." What do you know and how did you find out? She had no time to figure out either answer. Against the stained glass window of the castle, Marceline could feel the sun taunting her with its presence. For once, though, she was glad for it; the longer it stayed up, the more time she had to be grateful that her heart couldn't leap in her throat. Still, there was one thing left to check, and it was something she couldn't trust anyone else with.

Despite how full of life and populated the topside of the Candy Kingdom was, the labyrinth down below held only three things of note. Bonnibel's laboratory and Marceline's recording studio lay directly below the castle, almost touching except for the necessary chasm of space to assure sound isolation and appropriate acoustics, but neither were the demon's destination. Her goal lay further away, in a place Princess Bubblegum considered sacred because of its vitalness for her kingdom, and Bonnibel considered hallowed for a much more personal reason. Very few people even knew of its existence, and only one knew how to access it without the princess's accompaniment. Not even Peppermint Butler was trusted with the knowledge.

It was a long, winding path of carved stone, but Marceline kept her pace slow. Floating meant her approach was silent, but for once stealth was not her goal and so she made sure to make subtle noises as she entered the massive chamber. It was exactly as she remembered it, even if she hadn't been in years: an immaculately constructed chamber, drowning in the juice that was the lifeblood of her new home. And, most importantly, one very important resident. One very important resident who was hiding beneath the liquid, terrified of his unannounced guest. "Hey big guy," Marceline broached gently. Her voice was soft, her smile reaching it as she landed on the smooth steps. "Remember me?"

Judging by how eagerly Neddy surfaced, and by the litany of excited noises he made, the candy dragon did indeed remember the musical vampire. She chuckled at his enthusiasm, but how could she deny him? To soothe his excitement she removed her bass, strumming a calm tune, something she often played to accompany Bonnibel's singing when they visited together, and before long the massive candy creature had settled. "Missed you too, Ned. Sorry it's been awhile." But he only beamed at her, almost as separated from the concept of time as she was. Instead he glanced over his visitor's shoulder, but the demon shook her head understandingly. "Sorry big guy, your sis isn't with me today. But I brought you something." Simple as he was, curiosity settled over Neddy as Marceline approached, strange device in hand. When she offered it to him he gave her a look of concern. "Hey, it's okay. Proms." He looked between her and the box, again and again, before taking the offered contraption.

"I know you're a music lover, and I'm doing a concert in the Grasslands tonight. Couldn't have my favorite dragon miss it, huh?" Maybe he didn't understand his guest's words, but he certainly understood her kind voice, and her affection. "It's a really special concert, just for your sister. I know she'd want you to see it, but the outside is really lame, huh?" He made a grunting noise tinted with worry. "Yeah, I hear ya. But look!" Keeping her motions slow and deliberate, the singer tapped a button on the pink gadget. To Marceline's relief, the first thing that popped on the screen were both viewers' favorite person and she found herself belatedly relieved that the cameras were already being tested. Judging by Neddy's happy gurgle, he was as well. "This is a special box that Bonnie made, just for you." That second part was a lie, but did he really need to know that? "Now you'll just see her and me, okay? No one else Not so scary, right?" To her surprise he nodded happily, as if in comprehension. Then his expression turned quisitive. She followed his gaze, straight to her arm.

This posed an interesting challenge. How to explain this one. Huh. There was no point denying anything, not to Neddy. He'd recognize his sister's royal gem anywhere, and out of respect she lifted her arm, letting him get used to the sight of the vambracer before continuing. "Yeah, you remember Bonnie's crown, right? She made me this from it. It means she's my-" The word caught in her throat. 'Mate' wasn't a word she particularly wanted anyone with the mind of a child to know, not in this context anyway. It would mean explaining too much about her demon heritage, and she wanted to spare him that knowledge. Neddy was a gentle soul. Marceline had died to protect less. "This means we're together, like for real-real." He gurgled, and she thought he might be calling her silly. It elicited a chuckle. "Yeah, I know. You already knew that. But now everyone else knows, too." She winked. "You just knew before anyone else, right?" Of all things, he clapped. "Rock on, Neddy. I'll be back soon, okay? I'll bring Bonnie next time, too."

At his sister's name Neddy returned his attention to the small device and Marceline left him to watch the impending spectacle. Through the television she could see that the Sky Ball of Death was getting ready to set, which meant she was due for her final run-through with her bandmates. Taking a deep breath she didn't need, and holding it for as long as she could, the vampire steeled her nerves and unfurled her shield, all the while meandering back to the surface. Thankfully, no servant accosted her once she was finished sealing the passage back again and the Banana Guards, long-used to her presence by now, only waved their greetings as she slipped outside.

The closer she got to the stage the more Marceline was afflicted with a mental onslaught of everything that could possibly go wrong, and it took more effort than she would ever admit to banish the thoughts from her mind. It was uncharacteristic of her, she knew; since when did Marceline Abadeer suffer stage fright? Oh, I dunno. First concert since my brain went ker-plunk and my voice got gronked, doing it for the Grasslands peeps, Bon's gonna actually show up for the first time in like a decade-

The laundry list wasn't helping.

Instead Marceline flew on autopilot, letting the Grasslands pass below her in a blur. It was so much easier to just not think about her mounting anxiety, so much easier to just ignore everything that could go wrong and assume everything would be fine. At least, that was what the sweet whispers in the back of her mind cooed. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Marceline snapped back to attention when the venue came into view. She flew above, where she knew she would not be spotted because no one ever looked up, a terrible survival instinct she never understood. Even so, she shifted into invisibility for good measure. From her vantage point the stage a familiar ache began to burn, a longing she had forgotten but desperately missed. It filled her mind with memories, precious and bright and brought not just a smile, but a grin. It banished her apprehension, leaving only the raw arrogance that could only stem from anyone with as many concerts as she had under her belt. Yes, this was right, she knew; no matter the circumstances that brought her here now, she was a musician, and she knew how to perform for her audience.

Bonnibel was too focused on her tasks to spot her vampire slipping in the back; she had her 'Everyone Is An Incompetent Idiot And I'm The Only One With Any Sense' face on, a clipboard in hand, and the hand gestures of a woman determined to succeed in whatever she had set her mind to. Phoebe on the other hand, gifted with the ability to see through the coldspot Marceline perpetually left, raised an eyebrow in her general direction before returning to whatever distraction she had concocted at her friend's behest. A silent chuckle filled the demon's throat as she slid behind the stage and dropped her stealth. The only ones to see her were her band, and the sudden appearance of a blood-thirsty vampire were par for the course for a group whose members included a revenant and a shape-shifter. Her lead guitarist raised an eyebrow inquisitively, and when garnet eyes flickered to the spot where Bonnibel could be heard she laughed, shaking her head as she returned to tuning her guitar.

The only one who acknowledged her abrupt arrival was- "Jake, what are you doing here? I thought you'd be practicing."

The dog allowed his tail to wag. It softened his smug look. "Thought you'd need someone with my expert skills to help with your stuff and make it in tune. Yeah, I know. I'm great." Over her objections he shoved her electric violin into her hands, then held up a red lute-like instrument with eight strings batched in twos. "Couldn't figure out what this weird thing was, though. Freakiest viola ever."

Marceline raised an eyebrow, taking her violin's bow once it was offered. "Well, it's a mandolin."

"A what?"

"A mandolin. It's-" She stopped. "You know what, forget it. Thanks, Jake."

He shrugged and returned the instrument he found so strange to its case. "No prob. Your piano's in good shape, too. You really need all this?" It wasn't an accusation, it was a genuinely curious question and she owed him that much.

"Yeah. I'm gonna outdo myself this time, and that's saying something."

"What, does every song call for a different instrument or something?" The question was sarcastic, but when her guitarist scoffed - affectionately - his eyes widened. "Oh man, I can't wait to see this."

She gave him a warm smile. Really, Jake didn't have to go through all this trouble, but once the plan had entered her mind Marceline felt compelled to tell him and him specifically, and him alone. She had expected to need to swear the hero to secrecy, but he had only brushed her concerns aside, 'triple dog swearing' to keep it under wraps and exempt it from his daily gossip column. Admittedly, the singer wasn't sure if such a column was literal or metaphorical, but she was thankful either way. He hadn't even asked for anything in return, nor even playfully threatened to reveal her intentions or his efforts. It would have been suspicious had he not put in so much clear effort, going above and beyond the call of duty.

Maybe knighting him was a great idea after all. Not that Marceline would tell him that. Ever.

Still.

"You want to do the soundcheck for us?," she blurted. She froze then, because before she could clarify the dog had shouted 'dibs!' and ran outside, which meant only one thing: she was doing this, and it was happening now.

She sighed as she shrugged off her bass and tossed her parasol aside, placing her violin on the piano. The backstage was crowded enough as is - she truly did have a lot of instruments - and it would ruin a perfectly good song for it to get crushed in the madness of switching between them. That would be Jake's job as well, she recalled mutely. He had offered that as well. But that was getting ahead of herself, and Marceline shook her head to clear that train of thought before offering her band a thankful smile. "Thanks for doing this, guys. I super mega owe you one."

Her drummer offered only a small smile, but before the ghost could reassure her her lead guitarist slid an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her friend and burying her face in her shoulder. "I never thought I'd see the day!," she sobbed around tears that didn't actually exist. "My Marcy is all grown up!"

"Kei-"

The sobs only increased in volume, and the shapeshifter pulled her away with one arm, gripping his keyboard with the other. "Ignore the sobbing demon. You'll be fine, Marce. Grab your bass, greet the crowd, don't think about it. We have your back."

The spectre held in his laugh as his keyboardist played a loud note to interrupt the fake wailing. "Worst comes to worst… try not to turn into a giant monster and jump into the audience. This isn't the Nightosphere."

Marceline flushed, gripping her pick as she squinted at him accusingly. He only lifted his hands in defense, though he offered none. "That was just the one time!" With that she turned to the curtain that separated her from what she had silently promised Bonnibel would be a concert she would never forget.

"I'm Jake, and I'm here to test the mic! Whoo!" The crowd's cheering was muffled by the curtain, but her friend's enthusiasm was not. "Yeah! That's right, dudes and dudettes! Let's get this rocked!"

The curtain lifted as Jake slid inside, readying his position just as he had rehearsed. Marceline let the conscious part of her mind, the part that entertained any notion that this concert could go awry, slip back and out of the way. She was a performer, an entertainer, doing both what she did best and had done thousands of times before. Just as the band had practiced, the demon came to the microphone, sparing the audience itself one last look to confirm her lover was exactly where she promised. Only then did she allow the blinding lights to cast out the rest of her fears, moving on autopilot once more for an altogether different reason. "Look at this crowd of dorks! How you doing out there, Ooo?!"

The crowd was larger than she anticipated, but that bode well for both her ego and the professed reason for the concert in the first place. It roared at her presence, cheered for both her and the rest of her band. She wondered, briefly, if her voice had healed enough to be indistinguishable to how it was before the Chaos Amulet shattered her mind. Not that it mattered now, but funny the thoughts that entered her mind when she could do nothing about it. "Now, I know what you're all thinking. Been awhile since The Scream Queens has been together for you, right?" She chortled at the elated reaction she received for her hypothetical. "We've got a really special show lined up for you guys, but first we just wanted to take a moment to thank you all for coming out! You heard it right before, any and all dosh you spend is going to help us rebuild the Grasslands and get it looking sparkling again!"

Even then, at the mention of the tragedy that inspired the concert, there was no hesitation in the pandemonium, no signs of sadness at all. It was as if she were talking about some ancient history, or something that affected no one present. At the front of the stage she could see that wasn't true; Grassland denizens, marked by their scars and still-healing injuries, had been given the choicest seats out of respect for their plight. It reminded Marceline of a lesson Simon had taught her once, a thousand years ago, when she was but a child and came across a bird missing two toes but was no worse for the wear. She had been sad for it, but Simon, charmed by the affection, had explained that although it was hurt in the past it had learned to cope, and no longer saw its new form as a hindrance. It simply Was. In that moment the heir to the Nightosphere discovered a newfound respect for the denizens of the Grasslands, impressed with their resilience. It was one thing to face adversity. It was another thing entirely to spit in its face. These guys are hardcore, she mused. "We got a show full of some of your favorites, and some new hits as well. So this goes out to all you Grasslands peeps, and to everyone who helped to fix this mess! We dedicate this all to you!" Only then, and only for long enough it took for her to finish her intro, did she allow her eyes to meet Bonnibel's. "We call tonight's concert, 'Happy Ending'."

It was that brief, wonderful second that her lover's eyes softened that jarred the princess. There was something being conveyed in that brief amount of time, something vulnerable and loving that seemed absurdly intimate given the atmosphere. The mystery only deepened when Finn flopped in the seat next to her. "Oh! Greetings, Finn! I thought you were attending with Huntress Wizard?"

Finn shrugged. "Nah. HW isn't big on crowds and loud music. 'Sides, Jake said Marce said I should give you this." He offered her a folded piece of paper produced from under his hat, and the candy scientist was too curious about what she was being offered to admonish him for his unsanitary choice of storage container.

The illumination from the spotlight was more than enough light to reveal the correspondence was in fact- "A set list?" It was a curious thing for Marceline to go through so much trouble to make sure she got, and stranger still for Jake to be involved somehow. The second mystery took a back seat to the first, though, and she frowned in ponderance. Sure, Marceline had said that there were new songs being revealed, but Bonnibel knew that would be the case already, and she already knew of every other song the vampire had ever written or performed, including countless songs that were both written and performed exclusively for her. Out of curiosity the scientist flipped the piece of paper over, but no further information was revealed. The only things of note were a list of songs and a cryptic message scrawled in the lower corner: 'you like mysteries, right BonBon?'

And so the game began. The first few songs were familiar enough that Bonnibel didn't bother scanning her cheat sheet; they were old enough for the crowd to sing along to, and sing they did, even cheering at an unexpected remix courtesy of the keyboardist. The tempo was varied but flowed beautifully, one song right into the next, exactly as could be expected of four professional musicians. It made the pink-haired woman smile. Even in the midst of chaos, she looks so relaxed. Yes, the stage truly was Marceline's natural habitat, and though Bonnibel never missed a concert in spirit she had forgotten what a glorious experience was to see her work in person, surrounded by the controlled mayhem of her self-described 'punk music'.

When the song concluded the crowd kept going, and Marceline chortled into her mic. Bonnibel raised an eyebrow when she shrugged off her bass. Pausing to give the still-living members of her band a chance to breathe? That was normal. Removing her instrument? That was new. What are you up to, Marcy? Perhaps reading her thoughts, the bassist had the audacity to glance her way and wink, lop-sided grin conceited and conspiratol. Distasteful, Bonnibel thought affectionately.

The vampire turned to the curtain and two familiar, furry arms took the bass in exchange for a new instrument. Marceline returned her attention to the crowd, which sat on edge of what the impish singer was up to. "Alright, guys," she began, mischief in her voice. "I promised you something new, and we're gonna deliver!" Under her breath she turned, whispering some word or comment to her singer. The demon nodded, sly smile on her face as she glanced in Bonnibel's direction. Now it seemed to be her turn to take the lead as singer, freeing Marceline to risen up the bow of an instrument her princess hadn't seen the onyx-haired demon use professionally in decades.

It was amazing how well she could play an electric violin, surrounded by instruments that should not have formed such a cohesive harmony. Yet there she stood, or rather danced, acting as a welcomed spectacle of a whole new kind of artistry. Even a woman as used to multi-tasking as Princess Bubblegum found it difficult to keep track of what would have been sensory overload if performed by clumsier hands. In Marceline's it was magic, and in her heart of hearts Bonnibel knew that there was a pattern to this madness, a theme that she was meant to derive, just as much as she knew Marceline was relishing in the knowledge that she was becoming fixated on that singular task. It certainly kept her attention rapt.

When one song ended Marceline would hand her instrument to the unseen form behind the curtain and receive another, only to begin again without delay. It was rhapsody, it was spell-binding, and not for the first time the young scientist was left in awe of what her best friend was truly capable of when she applied herself and gave a task her all. Each instrument brought with it a new sound, and with each sound a unique tone and meaning. The result was a rollercoaster of emotion: this mad ballard began with something playful, only to transmogrify into something slow, which in turn led to a song with an elevated tempo. It should not have flowed but Marceline, virtuoso that she was, had taken impeccable care in selecting not only her music but her pauses, knowing when to give her band and audience a reprieve and when to press whatever emotion she meant to elicit. Playfulness gave way to something longing, which gave way to something slow and sentimental, only to accelerate once more into something else anew.

It was all so painfully familiar, this music Bonnibel had never heard before, and she couldn't help but wonder what was missing, what message she was being told. From the back of her mind Rechte whispered an encouragement to think not like herself but like her lover, to not see reality as a scientist but listen as the woman who willingly bound her soul to a demon once prophesied to end the world. Her eyes widened in sudden understanding and then shot down to the piece of paper resting in her lap for confirmation, scanning the title and matching it with its respective song. A song of mischief; a song of confusion; a song of love; a song of longing; a song of betrayal; a song of anger; a song of- ...apology. As Marceline's tone became one filled with sorrow Bonnibel changed gears, listening not only to the rhythm and speed of the song but its lyrics. As the vampire played her violin - traditional, for the electric one had been whisked backstage - she apologized for some slight, some error or rashness on her part, and Bonnibel knew she was apologizing to her. ...That's it. Every song. She's tracing every stage of our relationship. Every single song marks some aspect of our history together.

It was a terrifying work of art. It was intimacy unparalleled, Marceline laying her soul bare for all the world to see. It was the most flattering gift Bonnibel had ever received.

The show continued, and Marceline mended the yearning she had just instilled in the audience by replacing it with another love song, this one without the use of the keyboardist who instead slipped backstage as unobtrusively as he could. It was simpler and warmer, a love song played with what could very well be the strings of the vampire's heart, and in the back of her mind Rechte reminded Bonnibel needlessly that it was, perhaps, the very first love song that the older immortal had ever written for her. When it concluded the queen paused, letting the chorus of cheers wash over her but hearing none of them. Instead she was looking behind her, waiting for some signal unseen by anyone else. Her eyes brightened at what she saw, but rather than pass her mandolin back as she had every other instrument she set it gingerly to the side, out of sight behind the side curtain. When she turned back to the audience Bonnibel knew she was speaking directly to her.

By now the crowd had gone silent, eagerly anticipating what it was the mad demon was up to next. "Ladies and dorks, we've had a lot of fun tonight with new things, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Well, in the spirit of something new I'm going to try another new thing. Pay attention and get your hidden cameras out, 'cause I'm probably never doing this again! Bring it in, guys!" A low rumble grabbed the attention of everyone in attendance, and when Bonnibel saw what was causing it her breath hitched in her throat.

She had forgotten how beautiful her lover's grand piano was, but dazzling under the stage lights she wondered how she had ever forgotten.

A new figure joined the stage, and though that sly grin returned it seemed strained now, not quite reaching Marceline's eyes anymore. It was a convincing facsimile, but Bonnibel knew her queen too well. She could change any part of her, but her eyes would give her away every time. She deflected expertly by motioning to- "Come on everyone, you all know Ooo's finest violist! Give it up for Sir Jake the Dog! I needed the best viola player in the world to help me out with this next one, and my man delivered!" Apparently confusion was no match for the desire to see something new, something that every fan knew their Scream Queen had never done before, but when Jake bowed and lifted his beloved viola it was all but confirmed: Marceline Abadeer was going to play the piano, in concert, live and before the entire world. The cheering was no longer encouragement, it was almost a frenzy. Bonnibel didn't listen to them, because imperceptible to all, all but who truly knew her, the demon took a deep breath she did not need and began to sing.

She sang of agony and sorrow; she sang of hope and despair; she sang of love and betrayal; she sang of redemption and fear. Pain, raw and unflinching, flowed through Marceline's voice as she let her melody breathe, feeding it the world. She sang of being damaged, of the horror that can only come from being terrified of what lay within one's soul, of the resignation that comes in knowing that whatever parasite she could not see or hope to stop pulled her strings. She sang of the pain of solitude, of how nostalgia and endless longing shattered whatever fortitude she managed to construct in defense of whatever little goodness she saw left in herself. She sang of feeling herself come undone, of the monster she knew she could never stop herself from becoming winning, slowly and painfully.. She sang of love and apology and beginning for forgiveness, of wanting to spare those she loved the pain of seeing her inevitable failure. She begged them to leave. She begged them to remember her for who she was and who she was meant to be, not who she would inevitably become.

Above all, she sang with all of her heart and soul, and though her tears did not fall they did glimmer under the spotlight that was suddenly too bright, too harsh for Bonnibel's eyes. The candy princess repressed her own tears, feeling a sudden and almost violent protectiveness because she knew, knew, two things: that Marceline sang of her time trapped in the hellscape that was her mind, and that the monster she sang of was herself. Whatever she remembered of her prison was eating away at her sanity, and though the demon had channeled it into the most hauntingly beautiful music Bonnibel ever had the privilege of hearing it was heart-wrenching. Even sharing a soul in the most literal of sense, it felt as though she were intruding on some private sanctum, some hallowed ground not meant for any to tread.

And yet.

And yet Marceline had not only chosen to give her nightmare form and substance, she chose to confront it on the turf she felt most at home in: the stage, surrounded by those who admired and loved her not because she wrote a good tune but because she made them feel, whether they wanted to or not. Bonnibel dared to catch Finn from the corner of her eye, but it only confirmed what she suspected: the boy hero was not aware this was going to happen either. Judging by Jake's solemn expression, he had a suspicion but was not adequately prepared. This was not meant for the audience, Bonnibel knew. It was a gift for the three of them. It was her curse and her appreciation and her love and every other repressed emotion flowing out, expressed in the only way her closest friends would never doubt her sincerity, in public where she could neither run nor hide.

In that moment, Bonnibel Bubblegum had never been more in love with her oldest friend, nor more sure that the vampire was her one, true equal.

When her aria was finally concluded Marceline pushed herself back on the bench, breathing hard. The audience was silent, but that didn't last long, and their frenetic cheers made for more than adequate cover for the singer to subtly wipe away the traitorous tears. Jake patted her back reassuringly and they exchanged some quick words. At whatever she said the dog nodded and ducked backstage, taking the mandolin and viola with him. Bonnibel expected her champion to return with a familiar red bass, expected Marceline to address the crowd in search of some reassurance artists seemed compelled to need. Neither a bass was brought or praise sought, and instead something even more befuddling happened: Marceline sat back down. The younger royal tilted her head, trying to catch her mate's eye to see what else she could possibly be up to, and when that failed she chanced a second glance at Finn. The boy was too engrossed to share her confusion and she let him be. You're tracing the history of our relationship… but what else could you be adding? Certainly, the two things most of note in their recent history together were the tragedy that was the Chaos Amulet and the soulbond, but the former had been addressed. Is that how you're concluding this, Marcy? It would make the most sense.

What didn't make sense was everyone else clearing the stage. By then that grin was back, still cavalier, if a bit more muted. "We've got one last surprise," she spoke, just loud enough for her voice to carry through the electronic speakers. "Hopefully it's a good one!" As Bonnibel suspected, the melody was a love song. It was new, but that much was clear and she let the tension relax out of her. Her soulmate sang of coming home and finding the piece of yourself you didn't know was missing, as could be expected of a demon crooning about her mate.

And then things veered off, ever so slightly. Though Marceline sang of her delight and relief that was not the focus of her lyrics. Without the accompaniment of other instruments it was her voice Bonnibel heard, accented by her beautiful piano. The demon sang of responsibility and the duty of the amorous, not in her normal disparaging manner but in what could only be described as celebration; she did not curse its presence but instead praised it, as if to thank it for what it meant for it to exist in the first place.

For a certain someone, for being there in the first place.

In what was surely jest she sang of this someone, ironically praising them for their patience and understanding as she scolded them for their stubbornness and pragmaticism. She made promises to this person she called her greatest happiness and weakness, not to die for them but instead to live for them, not to protect them but to stand by their side, to not hide but to instead learn and grow. Her love and praise was sprinkled with playful admonishments, hidden jokes that could only be shared by lovers whose relationship spanned centuries so expertly wielded that despite Marceline's policy of hiding their mutual relationship due to her revulsion at the idea of ruling anything Bonnibel allowed herself to smile.

She was still smiling when the song ended, but it turned to surprise when her lover stood, not floating but actually stood, and looked her in the eye. Though there was no applause there was a chorus of hushed whispers, loud enough to be conspicuous but silent enough that when Marceline spoke, unaided now by the microphone she so carefully kept just out of range, Bonnibel heard her perfectly. "Song's not over yet, Bon." She gasped along with the rest of the audience when she offered her hand, leaving the piano but not the stage. Before she laid her soul bare. Now she offered her heart on a platter made of the same silver that could end her life. "You were right, you know," she chuckled, still not looking away. Bonnibel wouldn't let herself. Neither woman would. "I am a donkus sometimes. This is one of those times. I gotta say, took took me awhile to her here, but all this? It's for you, Bonnie. So here I stand, both as your donkus and as Heir to the Nightosphere." Bonnibel's breath all but ceased, for although it wasn't exactly a secret that Marceline was, legally speaking, royalty she hated to be acknowledged as such. To say the very least, this was unprecedented. But not as unprecedented as- "I have just one question for you, both as my brainlord and as princess of the Candy Kingdom. Will you marry me?"

Bonnibel would like to say she hesitated, that she gave it more thought than a blushing, giddy teenager would have. She would like to say that but it would be a lie, because those were four words Bonnibel had heard hundreds of times before, but always from the wrong person, always from the person who had something of tangible value to gain from her submitting to them in legal standing. Now the right person was asking her, someone who wanted not her title or her power or her lands but who Bonnibel knew, knew, only ever wanted her. Princess Bubblegum the Role might be along for the ride, but it was Bonnibel Bubblegum the Person Marceline Abadeer offered herself to, not in the private safety of their bedchamber but in public, spotlight solely on herself not because she craved the attention but because of just the opposite; she was giving her princess the power to make or break her, to shatter her heart and soul with just one word. In such a public setting no one would blame Bonnibel. It would be Marceline who would take the fall, mocked for making herself such an easy target.

For the second time in a year, Bonnibel Bubblegum possessed the capacity to strike down one of the most powerful beings in the world with one blow.

Bonnibel stood from her seat, mindful of how she was shaking. The stage was mere feet away but the chasm between them could not have been bigger, and she needed with every fiber of her being to close that gap. If Marceline was going to offer her heart to one of the most dangerous beings in the world, Bonnibel's only instinct was to shield it, for it might be in the chest of an immortal vampire but that heart belonged to her, and nothing would ever break it again, least of all herself. She would repair it herself piece by piece, just as she climbed the stage step by step. She did not walk or stroll to her lover she ran, right into the arms of her favorite person in the world. The embrace tightened, and knowing she did not possess Marceline's lyrical genius she answered in the only way she knew would get her point across, stealing her in a kiss that would be scandalous if only she cared. Marceline startled, clearly not expecting that kind of response, but eagerly returned the kiss. The crowd cheered for her, for them both, and she could not have cared less if she tried. As if for good measure - or just because Bonnibel knew the depths Marceline's self-doubt could reach, she pulled away, kissing her pointed ear instead. "That's a 'yes', little bat," the young scientist whispered with a smile.

Marceline didn't smile. She beamed. And purred when she kissed her princess again, seemingly having lost the sense to be embarrassed about that previously-distressing demonic trait. Not that the microphone was close enough to catch it anyway. It was, however, close enough to catch Jake shoving the two backwards and shouting, presumably to the crowd, "alright Ooo! Thanks for comin' out to see yours truly and the Scream Queens! We're gonna let these love birds have some time to celebrate! Don't forget to pick up your merch, tip your violist, and I'll be signin' autographs in the back!" His last two official acts in his temporary role of groupie was to relieve Marceline of her microphone and mutter a warm, 'you owe me'.

Bonnibel agreed silently, pulling her lover-turned-fiancee away from her band. In the morning she would care enough to be embarrassed that she was stealing their bassist away when the social situation called for mingling. Now? Now she only allowed said bassist enough time to grab said bass before whispering a simple request in her ear, a request that made the older woman blush furiously and nod her assent. For all of her claims that it was distasteful, Bonnibel certainly wasn't complaining that she was being scooped up and flown back to the castle. Nor was she complaining when rather than use the door like civilized monarchs they entered through the window, taking only enough time to draw the curtains should they sleep well into the morning. It was only when they were alone in the dark room, Bonnibel wrapped in cool arms, that she allowed herself a moment to catch her bearings. She cupped Marceline's cheek, smiling when her vampire tilted her head into the touch. "...I never thought you'd ask," she whispered, as if saying the fear out loud might prove the whole thing to be a cruel ruse.

Marceline covered the warm pink hand with her own, keeping it there. Even in the pitch black of their room the candy golem could see her mull that sentence over, considering how to address it. "...I always hated when you said that responsibility demanded sacrifice," the demon began after a lengthy pause. "I hated it 'cause it was always what you said right before you broke off plans or you were about to tell me I needed to grow up. I thought it was just a way for you to tell me that I wasn't really as important as your kingdom. It hurt, so I resented it. I guess I was just so caught up in my own junk that I never really thought about the fact I'm your responsibility too, you know? I was so cranked about all the stuff you bailed on me for it didn't even occur to me to think about all the stuff you bailed on for me."

The admission was too sincere, too vulnerable to be angry with. "What made you change your mind?," Bonnibel whispered.

The response came quickly. "Your box of suitor stuff."

"Why?"

Marceline sighed, holding the younger immortal against her. Bonnibel returned the embrace. "...You looked so upset, Bon. Not mad, but… hurt. And I got it. It suddenly all made sense to me. I knew just being with me was breaking some stupid laws because I wasn't coming forward with being the Heir, so you were stuck between needing to get around that without getting yourself in a mondo heap of trouble, and you were doing it for me. You didn't tell me 'cause you didn't want to hurt me, but there wasn't really anything else you could do but try to just sweep it away one more time, and I just… I realized how much it was hurting you. How much I was hurting you. What was I supposed to do? Let it keep happening?" Her laugh was without humor and Bonnibel hugged her tighter. "Then I thought about everything we've been through. Not just in the past year, but especially since you guys brought me back. After I got done being mad-mad I realized that it's been a stupidly long time since I've been this happy, and that I'm happy because of you. I just wanted the grudge too much to admit it." Her smile was, of all things, regretful. "Sorry, Bon. I've been a real dinger to you."

"You make me happy, Marcy," Bonnibel admitted around the lump in her throat. "...Why specify your status as Heir? You could have just mentioned your status as vampire queen. That would have sufficed-"

"'Cause you needed to know that I was serious." And oh how serious Marceline looked now. "Everyone knows I'm the vampire queen. It's not a big deal. But you know what is a big deal? You came back, Bon. Not just for me, just…"

"...I stopped being Princess Bubblegum all the time. At least around you." Marceline buried her face in Bonnibel's shoulder and nodded. "I admit… I find this way preferable as well. While my role is necessary using it in the manner I was… it was toxic for both of us. I was wrong to try to control you, as I know you blame yourself for running. It was a terrible cycle for us both."

"So we break it," the demon said as she lifted her head, tilting her lover's chin up. "I'm so tired of running, Bon. I can't keep doing it, 'spesh from you, and well…. this," she held up her left arm, "this was you giving me what I always needed and didn't even know I needed. So I'm doing the same for you. No more dumb suitors, no more me hiding and being a donkus. I know we need to talk about what that means, realistically speaking, and I know a guy for that… but right now it's just about us, okay?" It wasn't just okay, it was the most perfect idea Bonnibel had ever heard her queen posit. Her smile was understanding. "It's okay to want stuff, BonBon. Even stuff you want just because it feels nice or even just because."

Bonnibel's free hand took Marceline's, tracing her wrist with her thumb. They would need to talk about the practical implications of such a public and heartfelt proposal, and what it was exactly that the singer remembered about her time trapped in her mind, but these were problems for the future. This wasn't the time for analyzing every little detail because for once in the princess's life she wanted to appreciate emotion for emotion's sake. Her queen had offered herself in every way imaginable, something Bonnibel had never dared to hope for. "I want to know you're real," she blurted before her mind could convince her otherwise. "I had a Cosmic Owl dream, way back when the boys and I were in your mind, that you and I were married. I just never seriously entertained the idea because it seemed impossible after what I did. I had to assume his dream, though prophetic, wasn't literal."

"Well, next time I see the feathered jerk I'll strangle him for you."

That also seemed like a perfect idea. For now, though- "Come to bed, Marcy. I need to know you're real."

Marceline understood perfectly. It wasn't long before whatever lingering shyness the heavy sentiment thrust upon them faded away. In the morning they could worry about practicalities and concern themselves with the finer details. For now, their only focus was one another, and as they shed their clothes Bonnibel pledged her love first, whispering the three little words she had such difficulty saying under normal circumstances.

When Marceline cried her soulmate's name that night the princess knew her queen was indeed real, and that everything had changed forever.