AN: This baby is around 1,5k and corresponds to the poem Marshall said when he took Cake away from Fionna. It's probably the most angsty chapter I've done so far and sort of depressing. But hey, I think I'm getting better at trying to slap more humor in (kind of), and hopefully, you guys enjoy it. Also, I'll be making one more chapter for this, and it'll be a bonus chapter in Fionna's POV, so stay in tune for that. Anyways, enjoy all the angst.
Did you think I was lying?
I'm not one to tell others what to do, because personally, my submissiveness could only bear to be controlled for so long. Unfortunately, in Fionna's case, the enforcement was fundamental.
You could trust anyone in Aaa, and it wouldn't bother my subjective views between right and wrong conduct in the least: candy people, goblins, queer life forms born from a multiple set of breeds, cats, anybody! My apologizes to those who put themselves in this particular state of mind, but only a crackhead would consider the likelihood that creatures brought from the Nightosphere could be trustworthy or honest. Again, the very human that is the Great Fionna will never cease to marvel me, much less, those around her.
For my sake, would it be possible to give the slightest explanation of what goes on throughout the female process? What's a proper word for something like this.. the basics? Mechanics, maybe? Look, a person like me wouldn't know how else to address it. I've been around for generations, enough to observe the opposite gender for as long as I needed, and I'm still trying to figure it out. It's not something I try to decipher all the time―trust me―but it does makes me curious, periodically speaking.
The interest sparked when I witnessed the unpreventable devouring of Fionna's Conscience with my own eyes. She'd become too careless. Being comfortable around me led her to believe I was not malicious, even after I revealed my gruesome past. After all this time hovering, she hadn't given up the faith she entrusted me with.
It's not like I found joy in lying. Convincing myself I enjoyed it took effort. But at times like these, I couldn't lie. Not to her.
I said I'm evil without even trying.
Tell me, what is the purpose of malevolent, vicious spirits? Killing people? Nope. Destroying towns and tearing apart guiltless families? Not even close.
Our purpose in life, my purpose specifically, was to spread terror, dread, and anxiety throughout the land. There was never a need to slaughter the innocent or exhibit evil deeds for others to learn my name and title. My duty was to simply have them fear me, a task that required very little activity.
I am the nightmares you wake up to in the middle of the night, the tapping at your glass window, the shadow you perceive when you look at an area from afar and wonder whether or not you saw something or just hallucinated it, and the eyes you feel staring right through your body when you walk alone on a cold, murky night. I feed off the anxious and troubled instincts one would call 'emotions.'
So, as you can plainly see now, I am evil, even when I don't want to be.
Drinking the red from your heart in one sitting.
What my blonde friend never understood, a part of myself I wouldn't allow her to come across, was how easily I could break her.
Vampires weren't just red sucking, bat transforming creatures of Satan. We were vigorous, sturdy, physically fit to an extent that made it capable to shred someone like Fionna into pieces.
During the times we joked with one another, I was never reckless. It may have appeared that way on the exterior outlook, but I was sure to never purposely use my full power against her. If I made the wrong moves, I could break her leg, get bruises on her delicate skin, or make her bleed to death. With one false motion, I could be the cause of Fionna's suffering, or worse, death.
Her heart was genuine and one of the purest out there, scarce and precious. Her rose-colored life was the single exception to all my morals; I refuse to imbibe its clarity.
You think you've got me pinned? You must be kidding!
Nobody owned me. Even I didn't own me. My mother, ruler of the rotting, underground pit imprinted this in my head the first few decades I stayed with her.
"I brought you into this way of life, but you're the Vampire King now, son!"
Kings are supposed to keep to their personage. The term was supposed to be significant; it's not like they gave away titles for nothing. So, in other words, no one ruled over me. Who could? Those who had the audacity to challenge the Vampire King had no idea what they were getting themselves into. I ruled over others. It wasn't arrogance; the account was reality.
By the time I met Fionna, she'd become familiar with royal territory already. Saving princes in distress―hah! What a joke! People in Aaa are much too frail and weak for my inclination. That might've been a good thing, though. After all, I hate going through difficulties when I want to loiter.
Anyways, Fionna was used to these sort of ranks, so it didn't concern her when she found out who I was. Okay, I know she's used to royalty and whatever, but I'm the Vampire King. Shouldn't that have scared her even a little bit? Well, it didn't, so she treated me like every other person. At first, benignity made me happy, but after a while, I begun to ask myself shaky questions. Isn't she treating me like this because she's a heroine or something? She doesn't actually care for me, does she? Doesn't she treat the princes like this, too? Potential trust I built up for Fionna shattered, and suddenly, I didn't find myself to be special in her eyes anymore. I was ordinary.
No one owned me. Not myself, not my mother, and most certainly not Fionna. But I didn't want her to know that. Because I was pinned to her.
I raise the dead up, and they do my bidding.
The piles of bones that behave in accordance to my will weren't from random corpses. Oh, no. They were unique in that factor. And how exactly were they unique, you ask? These particular skeletons that fell under my command were owned by the thousands of people I've killed with my two, bare hands. Others might think otherwise, but that's the scary truth behind the sorcery. Most assume my powers go beyond the supernatural understanding, when really, I stick by its austere rules as much as the next demon or vampire. If I didn't, the world should create another overrated definition for disorder besides 'chaos.'
These dried up, ancient bones were once my victims at some point in time, and now, they were humble servants, ready to perform any task given to them. It's because they were bound to me. It's because I was the one to shed their blood and take their souls into the Godforsaken fortress under the surface. They were mine to dominate. Their only purpose now was to follow the individual that discontinued their merciful lives.
Girl, I'm a thousand years old. I'm a riddle.
Trying to grasp, or make effort in achieving comprehension of my thoughts at all, would result in vain labor. My mental organization of cognition was fathomless, mysterious to nescient minds. I was not a puzzle you'd be able to solve in a few minutes or hours. If I was, that would just make me a mockery in the Nightosphere.
I'm a thousand year old riddle. I've sighted the improbable, foreseen the horrors of this world and the next, and strayed far away from any means of salvation.
My beloved heroine disregarded these things and saw me for who I was, not who I used to be. When she's near, I can't help but smile and feel an odd sensation blossom in my once-throbbing heart. My insides ache, and I wish I'd never met her so I didn't have to carry these desires.
She'd never be able to notice my dead emotions, though. A thousand year old riddle was never to be unraveled.
Bad little boy―yes, I'm bad, but not little.
Ill-natured, short-tempered, and born to rule the undead; it's unavoidable. No matter how many times I utter the words, I am bad, and I know it. Position as a king was a big deal, and it was essential to many to live up to it.
Being bad was not a small job. The adjective itself was only three letters, but three letters that sometimes decided a person's future. Good people, bad people: there was quite a distinction.
But my future had been decided for me long ago. There was no point in trying to change it now.
Out of all things to be conscious of, there was one thing I knew my future wouldn't have. My current life now would be a golden period of my past when a naive, blond haired human became my savior.