A/N: so, so sorry for the wait. I feel terrible, but I was in Sherlock wonderland, so how could you blame me? (Just kidding; guilty as charged.) Anyway, here's the FP and Marcy chapter, and after that look out for my Cake and Lord M. chapter as well, which will be the last chapter of my first fanfic. :'(

Chapter 23- Marceline's Point of View

Lonely. That was a good way to describe Marceline Abadeer before she came to the Land of Aaa. She had friends with whom she shared a mutual love, but no one ever saw things like she did, and no one ever cared to break past the surface, except for maybe Finn that one time. Therefore she had good times, but they only kept her going. Her music was her soul mate, before she met Flame Prince. I'm no longer lonely, I thought to myself, slowly opening my eyes and waking to a warm bed.

"Weird dream, hmm," I muttered to myself. "A wild night with Flame Prince, but who'd think I'd have sex in the Fire Kingdom?" I chuckled, before I felt an arm draped across my torso. The figure connected to it laughed.

"Sorry, Marcy, but it wasn't a dream," Flame Prince said, propping himself on his elbow to look at me. The memory of yesterday finally decides to come back in a flood of images at that moment. My cheeks turn red, which sends him in a fit of giggles. My eyes close and I pinch the bridge of my nose. I feel his lips on my cheek, where they stay until I open my eyes. "I think it's adorable when you blush," he murmurs, grinning. I roll my eyes.

"If it was all real, I now have some information I could use against you," I tease, causing him to blush. I bite my lip at the sight; crimson cheeks against his deep orange skin. My hand rests against his cheek as I press my lips to his, lingering until I feel him kiss back; that's when I pull away and slip out of bed, laughing. I put on my shirt and shorts I pulled from my bag and hear Flame Prince do the same from his wardrobe.

"You're a mean girl," he says, pulling the service bell string and slipping on a robe. I do the same; mine is black and his flows red, no surprise. I raise my eyebrow and glance at him, playing along.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask, my voice filled with mock surprise. I see the corners of his mouth twitch up and resist the urge to giggle. Then the maid walks in, pushing a trolley covered in pastries and fire delicacies and sweet-smelling drinks in little tea cups.

"Thank you, Phoebe," Flame Prince says, and 'Phoebe' bows and walks out, closing the door behind her. I turn to the trolley and lick my lips, my self-control peeling away. "Hungry, Marceline?" FP asks, and I hush him, walking to the red food and reaching for it as if in a trance.

"Shut up and let me eat," I mutter, sinking my ebony fangs into a round crimson pastry. If ecstasy were a flavor...

"That's what I mean," Flame Prince says, answering my previous question as he bites into a biscuit topped with a fiery orange frosting. Once again I roll my eyes, but don't stop turning red food into grayish-white food until I'm absolutely stuffed.

Thanks, Flame Prince. I really appreciated and enjoyed my stay here. Last night was the highlight of my visit," I tell him as I pull the zipper on my bag. I see him smile out of the corner of my eye. The sun is setting, which allows me to fly home without getting burnt to a crisp. He walks me to the door of the castle and touches my arm.

"I hope the next time you stay, you stay longer," he mutters into my ears. I take his face in my hands.

"I would stay longer, but Marshall wants me home by tonight," I apologize, kissing him. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closer, deepening the kiss. I pull away, gasping for air. Flame Prince looks into my eyes for a long time, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"My ruby-eyed, ebony-fanged vampire. You're beautiful, and I love you," he says, his thumb tracing lazy circles on my skin under the hem of my shirt. I smile, but my cheeks become hot. And wet. Wet with tears.

"My fiery-haired, hot-headed prince of fire. You saved me, and I love you more," I reply, laughing as tears stream down my cheeks. His finger brushes my cheek, and the tears evaporate into vapor, a clear gas that rises into the air and disappears.