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Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum was royalty. She was born royal, she lived as a royal, and she knew that if the time came for her expiration as a citizen of Ooo, she would die a royal. Ever conscious of her position as a leader, a diplomat, and a role model to young Candy People everywhere, she never indulged in vices or controversial behavior. She reached 18 years of age without ever having smoked, drank, broken the law, or been physically intimate with another person. Other princesses might have teased her about it in private (never in public, for fear of their own transgressions being discovered), but she knew it was only because of their jealousy; their envy that she had a strong will and, therefore, had nothing to hide from her people.
When they teased, they would quickly descend into gossip about the one member of Ooo royalty who not only transgressed the expectations of proper behavior, but seemingly reveled in it. "I heard Marceline's last concert got really crazy," Wild Berry Princess would whisper, despite being in the confines of Bubblegum's bedroom, where an oath was taken that anything mentioned during the monthly sleepover attended by the Princesses of Ooo was being said in strict confidentiality. Lumpy Space Princess's eyes would widen, both in excitement at the upcoming gossip and in secret admiration of the Vampire Queen (a secret she was, as she was with all secrets, horrible at hiding).
Bonnibel listened to the rumored tales of decadence and debauchery that occurred at Marceline's gatherings with half-hearted interest. She feigned interest for the sake of appearances (being a princess was 50% democracy and 50% feigned interest in the words of others), but busied herself with the hem of her nightgown, nodding and gasping when she noticed the others were doing so. "I heard she got..." Wild Berry Princess trailed off into silence, causing the others to lean in closer, as if the small distance between them would hungrily swallow up the remainder of her sentence, "... naked. On stage." A loud collective gasp emitted from the group. Lumpy Space Princess dropped her cell phone into the bowl of candy they shared, her mouth falling open simultaneously. Bonnibel disguised a disinterested yawn as a gasp of surprise. It seemed to work, as Wild Berry Princess caught her eyes and nodded slowly. "I know, right?" she said, and Bonnibel nodded back. The others took a moment to digest the juicy piece of gossip before settling back onto their sleeping bags.
"I can't believe she's still allowed to be queen," Slime Princess said, though her words were not coated in judgment or disgust but, rather, an admirable disbelief. It was as if Marceline's retention of her crown was not a statement of her father's negligence but, rather, a testament to her own inexplicable resilience; it indicated to Bonnibel that these girls were simultaneously jealous of her for being content to behave and of Marceline for being content to misbehave. They were caught in the grey area between perfection and destruction, and they wanted to choose -- a life of chaste obediance and uncontested rule, or a life of reckless abandon and uncontested rule. They, teenage women from various kingdoms and cultures, struggled with the age old question: to be loved or to be feared? It was not enough for them to be merely tolerated. Mediocrity did not sit well with the Princesses of Ooo.
Another hour of gossip and teasing lead to a room of heavy-lidded princesses, and Bonnibel extinguished the candles as the others settled into their sleeping arrangements. A few incoherent mumbles from LSP indicated that bedtime had arrived, and soon the room was silent, save for the soft breathing of sleeping princesses. Bonnibel settled into her bed, fluffing her pillow and sliding under her blankets, but the sleep that quickly came to her comrades evaded her. She sighed, turning onto her side, then the other, then on her stomach, finally flipping and landing on her back with a thump as her head hit her pillow.
She thought of Marceline, the Vampire Queen who hissed at the sun and thrived under the moon. Bonnibel wondered where the wayward ruler would find herself that night. Perhaps a concert in the woods, like the one the girls had tittered about earlier; or, maybe she was sneaking through Wild Berry Kingdom, knowing that its young leader was away on business and taking the opportunity to collect strawberries and raspberries to suck the red from (Bonnibel knew she always finished them before she even made it home, and shook her head at Marceline's impatience); or, she was floating above the clouds, where nobody else could hear her, plucking out a new tune on her guitar and singing nonsensical lyrics until she found the words she wanted. Bonnibel found herself smiling, a haze falling over her that signaled an imminent sleepiness.
This was the transgression the other girls could never know about. While self-destructive habits never appealed to her, Bonnibel did have one very undignified pleasure: her friendship with Marceline. The queen's reputation made her untouchable by Ooo royalty who wished to continue being invited to meetings and luncheons and balls meant for Official Ooo Royalty, to which Marceline was no longer invited due to a poor attendance record and an equally as damaging record of what the council considered 'poor life decisions.' As the most respectable and responsible member of young Ooo royalty, Bonnibel had, naturally, become the main target of Marceline's endless barbs about "stuffy princesses" and "stupid rules," and once the queen stopped attending official gatherings (whether her absence was of her own volition or at the request of the council, only Marceline knew), she began visiting Bonnibel on her own time.
The first time she came, she scared the sugar out of the princess, rapping lightly on her window and transforming her face into that of a demon when the princess approached to investigate. Bonnibel threw open the window and charged onto the balcony, into the rain that poured from the sky, and tackled what she assumed was a monster that had lost its way from the Nightosphere. The realization soon came that she was, in fact, lying ontop of a monster from the Nightosphere, but this one was far from lost and far from monstrous. The queen changed her face back to her more appealing, natural image and laughed so hard she couldn't breathe (Bonnibel was under the impression that she didn't need to breathe at all but, admittedly, she hadn't done much research on vampires). Bonnibel quickly pulled herself to her feet and placed her hands on her hips, letting out a shrill "Marceline!" as her annoyance at the prank far exceeded her annoyance at the rain.
She retreated inside to change out of the sleepwear which clung uncomfortably to her skin, soaked to the last thread. Marceline remained on the balcony and before disappearing into the bathroom, the princess glanced back and invited her inside (she had heard something once about vampires being unable to enter a space they were not invited into, which would, perhaps, explain her recent absences from the royal council meetings). Marceline floated, slowly, through the window, and perhaps it was her inability to shrug off her royal manners even in the face of humiliation, or the fact that Marceline actually thought to close the window behind her, but Bonnibel grabbed a towel on her way out and handed it to her guest, who was actively dripping onto the floor as she hovered above it.
From then on, the scene was always the same: after Bonnibel changed into her sleepwear and settled into bed, Marceline would appear on the balcony, alerting the princess to her presence in a variety of ways ranging from only slightly distruptive (rapping her fingernails on the glass) to being downright destructive (throwing a chunk of rock candy through the pane). Bonnibel would open the window (to varying degrees of annoyance) and the vampire queen would float inside, rambling on about her latest adventures as a carefree musician/creature from the deepest depths of the Nightosphere. Then, Bonnibel would reciprocate with stories of her own activities, to which the vampire would respond with a snort and a quip about the monotony of the princess's routine.
"Don't you do anything fun?" she asked once, floating lazily near the ceiling of the bedroom. Bonnibel, seated on the floor, balled her fists in her lap.
"That *is* fun!" the princess said, folding her arms over her chest. "Just because it's not your kind of fun doesn't mean it's not someone else's." Marceline laughed, one singular "Ha!" that puffed from her diaphragm, and she descended until she was floating eye-level with the princess.
"So how do you know if you don't like someone else's fun?" she asked, quirking a dark brow as she perched her chin on the backs of her hands, laced together. Bonnibel pouted.
"I could ask the same of you," she retorted, and Marceline let out a louder and longer laugh this time, leaving traces of her breath (sweet, with a hint of raspberry) as she flipped gracefully in the air and floated upward, landing on her back on the canopy over the princess's bed.
"I'm not much of a bookworm, Bonnie," she said. "You should come out to a gig one time. I'll keep you posted."
The canopy hung lower than it had before, no matter how many times Bonnibel tried to fix it; and, from that night forward, when Marceline came to visit, she told the princess of an upcoming show she was playing. Each one, it seemed, was in a more obscure part of Ooo, and Bonnibel made no attempt to promise her attendance. When Marceline returned again, she would gush about how "totally sick" the concert was, how she wowed the crowd with a new song or a surprise acoustic version of an existing song, and the number of fans who threw their personal belongings onto the stage for her to keep or sign or just to touch before she threw it back. She never mentioned missing the princess, or wishing she had been there, and the princess never apologized or offered an explanation.
She thought of the time she spent with Marceline as she lay in bed, trying to find the sleep that her fellow princesses seemed to accept without struggle. Their words lingered in her head, about the way that Marceline conducted herself, and the admiration that they failed to conceal as they spoke about her. Bonnibel needn't wonder why they were reticent to admit the longing they felt to capture the freedom that Marceline naturally exuded with everything she did, and the more time she spent with Marceline, the more she wondered about it herself.
She thought, maybe, the next time Marceline told her about a concert, she would go... maybe not for the whole show, but for a song or two. She wanted to see the crowds that Marceline gushed about, hear the screams of Marceline's fans, see the way she imagined that Marceline's face lit up when she was on stage, playing the songs she'd made up in Bonnibel's bedroom...
The princess awoke the next morning with no recollection of having fallen asleep. Her bedroom was empty, filling with the warm rays of a high noon sun. A note was tacked to her bedpost: "Great sleepover, PB! Can't wait for the next one!" It was signed by the other princesses, who had, presumably, left for a day of royal duties and a few less-than-royal wrongdoings.
Bonnibel busied herself that day with tasks she had put off earlier that week for more pressing matters. Peppermint Butler, while bringing her a small breakfast, suggested that she enjoy the beautiful day by taking a walk, but she insisted on working until sundown, at which time she retreated to her bedchamber without dinner. She tidied her room and took a bath before opening the window and walking onto the balcony. There, she stood, leaning over the edge, allowing the slight breeze to blow her hair softly across her face. She was taking in the sight of her kingdom in the moonlight, she said, getting some fresh air from having spent an entire day sleeping and signing papers. But each time a shadow slid over the castle or the wind kicked up for a moment, her breath caught in her throat and she looked around expectedly, disappointed when she found herself alone once it subsided.
"Waiting for somebody?" The princess jumped in place, turning to search for the source of the familiar voice. From above, a pair of boots dangled from the roof over her chamber, and she craned her neck to make eye contact with the vampire they belonged to.
"Marceline!" she called, knitting her brow as the vampire floated down to the balcony with a cackle.
"Scared the sugar out of you, didn't I?" she teased, flicking her tongue out at the princess, who huffed and crossed her arms over her chest as she made her way back into the bedroom. The click of the window's latch signaled that her friend had followed her inside and Bonnibel sat on the edge of her bed, awaiting the inevitable storytelling that would spill from Marceline's lips.
"So," the vampire began, hovering somewhere out of the princess's view, "how was the Princess Party?" Bonnibel quirked a brow, puzzled by the question. It was not so much the fact that Marceline was curious about the sleepover (no doubt, she would find a myriad of ways to tease her about having "princess sleepovers"), but moreso the fact that this question preceded any stories of her own. The princess glanced upward, trying to discern the location of the vampire, before responding.
"It was fine," she said. "The same as usual. Everyone had a wonderful time." She leaned forward, attempting to peer over the bed's canopy, and when she leaned back, she bumped into a cold body with a yelp.
"Did you talk about me?" Marceline purred, mouth barely brushing the ear of the princess slowly growing pinker by the minute, who responded with a scoff and a decided shift to her left, away from the vampire.
"You?" she asked. "Why would we talk about you?" Marceline shrugged, lowering herself to land on the bed and lay on her stomach, her head lolling sideways to rest upon the princess's thigh.
"Oh, I don't know," she said, rolling onto her back and letting her hair dangle over the edge. If blood still pumped through her veins, her face would have matched the color of Bonnibel's, for entirely different reasons. "Maybe because I'm the most interesting thing that happens around these parts?" Bonnibel let out a laugh, much like Marceline had done in the past.
"You really do think that Ooo revolves around you," she said, glancing down at the smirk crawling over the pale face. "You're so full of yourself!" The vampire's grin bared her sharpest teeth as she brushed off her shoulders in a dramatic flair of arrogance. Bonnibel reached over her and grabbed one of her small throw pillows, dropping it on the face that held that smile. The vampire lost her balance and began to fall, catching herself before her head hit the floor and floating to bring herself upright.
"Oh, no," she said, brows furrowing and lips snarling, "No way, Princess. You're dead." She picked up the pillow and lunged toward Bonnibel, who was too slow to evade and found herself with a face full of pillow and the weight of a vampire flying at full speed toward her. She fell backward and fought against the fluffy assault, finally tearing the pillow from Marceline's grip and tossing it aside. Marceline, having focused all her weight on that pillow, fell forward suddenly, catching herself with both hands on either side of Bonnibel's face and her legs straddling the princess's hips. For a moment, their noses brushed, and Bonnibel's cheeks turned the color of ripe strawberries.
They froze that way, momentarily, until Bonnibel turned her head to the side, though Marceline made no attempt to move. The princess cleared her throat (a soft, unassuming gesture), then turned back to face the girl (not quite literally) hovering above her. "Marceline?" she asked quietly, just barely above a whisper, and in the silence she could hear the vampire swallow.
"Yeah, Bonnie?" she replied, sliding the tip of her tongue over her lips.
"Do you..." She trailed off, nibbling lightly on her bottom lip, feeling that sweet strawberry breath on her hot strawberry cheeks. "Have you..."
"What?" Bonnibel took in a deep breath.
"Have you ever been naked on stage?"
Marceline sat up, propelling herself backward with such force that she almost toppelled off of the bed for the second time that night. "Have I ever *what?*" she asked, failing to hide her widening grin. Bonnibel flushed deeper and pushed up onto her elbows.
"You heard me!" she cried, pushing past the immediate embarrassment she felt at having asked such an absurd question. Marceline grabbed her sides as she dissolved into a fit of laughter and Bonnibel pouted, clenching her fists.
"So you *did* talk about me last night," the vampire said as her chortles subsided. Humiliated, Bonnibel kicked her legs in an attempt to get the vampire off of them. Marceline leaned down again, slowly. "If you're so curious, why don't you come see for yourself?" Bonnibel gulped down the knot that seemed to form in her throat. Marceline leaned down and held her eye contact, unwavering, as the forked end of her tongue peeked out from between her two plump lips, perfectly smooth and suddenly inches from Bonnibel's own (why was the princess so occupied with the distance between their mouths?).
"That sounds awfully..." Bonnibel paused, aware that with each word she spoke, her lips came dangerously close to touching Marceline's (and, again, why was she so preoccupied with this fact and, more importantly, why was Marceline acting so nonchalant about it and, even more importantly, why weren't they trying to fix it?). With a sharp intake of breath, she finished: "...distasteful, Marceline." The vampire grinned.
"I'm not much for decorum, Princess," she replied, and the way she said "Princess," like a low purr from a hungry lion, sent a shiver up Bonnibel's spine, as if she could feel the vibration from Marceline's voice climb up each of her vertebrae. The vampire cocked her head slightly, leaning so that the tips of their noses no longer touched, and their lips were so close that each exhale felt like a burst of wind over Bonnibel's mouth and before she knew what she was doing, before she had time to think about what she was really doing, she raised her head and brought their lips together, her eyes still wide and mouth stark still. To call it a kiss would be giving the princess a bit more credit than she deserved, but the impact was just the same. Mere seconds later, she let her head drop, her eyes never leaving Marceline's, which creased as she smiled in the wake of their touch.
"I take it that was your first kiss," the vampire murmured and received a slow nod in response from the princess, who finally blinked her wide green eyes and let out a breath she'd unknowingly been holding. Marceline lifted a hand and brought it to Bonnibel's neck, sliding it up until it settled into place behind her ear and she could lift the warm pink head. "Congratulations, Bonnie," she said as she connected their lips again, closing her eyes and showing the princess the proper protocol for kissing. They pulled apart and the princess gasped for breath. Marceline snickered as she propped her head on one hand, the other playing absentmindedly with a lock of bubblegum hair. "So, how does it feel to be officially debauched?" Bonnibel rolled her eyes but reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind the vampire's pointed ear, resting her hand on a cool grey cheek once her task was complete.
"It was just a kiss, Marceline." The vampire gasped, bringing her free hand to the princess's forehead.
"Just a kiss?" she said. "Bonnie, what's gotten into you? What have you become?!" Bonnibel batted her hand away with a giggle, though she tried to purse her lips and narrow her eyes in a stern look of disapproval.
"I've hardly been deflowered, Marceline!" she cried. The vampire cackled, rolling over onto her back and pulling the princess with her. With the princess atop her, Marceline rested her hands on the pink knees and slid them up the pink thighs, onto the hips covered by thin cotton shorts, slipping her fingers just slightly under the hem of Bonnibel's shirt, coming to rest on the warm pink waist. Bonnibel wriggled out of Marceline's grasp and clumsily climbed off the vampire, finding her balance and her senses as her feet hit the floor. Marceline chuckled, a low sensual noise, as she sat up and floated off the bed.
"Don't worry, Bonnie," she said, floating toward the princess on her way to the window and circling around to rest her lips on a pink earlobe and a hand on each hip, "we'll make a delinquent out of you yet." Then she floated toward the window, undid the latch, and disappeared over the top of the castle.