"Gunter, did you move my crown?"

"Wenk."

"I need my crown, Gunter! This is not funny!" The Ice King shouts at the innocent penguin, his scrambled thoughts beginning to organize. He runs around the room, frantically checking under his furniture for his bejeweled life-support. As Gunter slinks into hiding, something is whispering to the Ice King. An overwhelming whisper, panicpanicpanicyouhaven'twornitinthreedaysyouneedthi scrownitisyouronlychancetoli veitisyoursandyoursonlyfindi tfinditordie. The whisper is harsh and raspy, a familiar evil tone curling around his mind and squeezing tight until it gets its way, like a boa constrictor.

"I'm trying!" The Ice King responds, rubbing his skinny blue fingers on his temple in an attempt to ease his headache. All around him, the underfoot spirits begin to fade, Ice King cannot see them anymore. Were his wizard eyes failing or had the disgusting, ghostly creatures finally left his sight? He stands in awe, amazed by his at last empty home.

His headache begins to sting even worse, pounding at his skull and tugging at his brain, urging him to hurry up and find the crown. Although, Si- … The Ice King suddenly isn't so sure he really wants to find the crown. If he does, the creepy-crawly spirits will be back, so will the visions. But, his head hurts so bad, and suddenly, he's so cold… Maybe he should go find M-

The Ice King falls to his knees, the headache is so painful, the raspy voice screaming to find the crown or else he will die. He crawls across the room, groaning in agony. As he looks under the bed, searching through the dirt and dust, he spots his crown in the darkness, in all it's golden glory. He reaches out, sighing with relief as he wraps his fingers around the cool, smooth texture of the crown. As Ice King pulls the crown from the darkness, he notices something is stuck to one of the tall arches of the crown. It is a strange and worn backpack, covered in dust and dirt.

Curious, Simon unzips the backpack.

It is filled with letters, greyed by time and faded by preservation.

Simon carefully pulls out one of the letters, crown still held tight in his opposite hand.

Marceline,

I hope you are doing well. I have finally found a home to live in, maybe you could come and visit some time. The visions, they've been coming and going. I can tell that the end of the road is near for Simon Petrikov. I keep trying, Marcy, I really do. I focus as hard as I can but I just can't stay here, it keeps pulling me away. Why is this my burden? Why was I chosen to inherit this damned crown? What have I ever done to deserve this, Marceline? Betty and I, we were so happy. We were going to get married in June, buy a nice little house close to the research lab, start a family. Betty wanted children so badly, she wanted a son more than anything. We'd stay up late talking about what wonderful people our kids would grow up to be, she would never stop smiling. I love her so much. Then I just had to find that book and then the crown and I ruined everything. It's all my fault. I'm sorry I had to leave you, Marceline. I don't want anybody to see me in such horrible state again, so horrible that my fiancé cut me out of her life as fast as she could. I can't bare that again.

-Simon

They all began and ended the same, sad stories and apologies in the middle. Who the hell had written all these letters? What were they in his house for? For a moment, as Simon puts the crown back on his head, there is a small spark of guilt inside him, although he's not quite sure what for. The Ice King brushes it off and breathes a sigh of relief.

"Finally, the headache's gone. Gunter? Where'd you go?" He calls out, but no response. He shrugs nonchalantly and drags the big backpack toward the window. Ice King hesitates for a moment, a thread of remorse holding him back. Despite it, he dumps the contents of the backpack out of the window anyway, grinning and waving at the papers as they are guided away by the cold wind.

Simon… Where had he heard that before, Ice King wonders. Perhaps, the name of an old friend.

No, he remembers. Simon is what that sad-looking girl had been screaming at him the other day.

The Ice King was walking through the woods, looking for a stick. Suddenly, he heard music, a lady singing with a beautiful voice. He followed the sound until he found the singer, a skinny girl with long midnight hair. She noticed him watching, and her sad eyes shined as she ran at him screaming, 'Simon! Simon! You came back!" She tried to wrap her arms around him, but the Ice King pushed her away.

"What are you doing crazy!" He demanded.

"Simon…?" The sad girl's face fell. "It's me… Don't you remember?"

The Ice King shook his head.

"C'mon! You have to remember! Look at me." The sad girl's voice turned watery. Ice king shifted in discomfort, then took a step back.

"You have a very nice voice. But I've never seen you before in my life!" Said the Ice King.

"I'm sorry." Simon added.