Archive of Our Own ^beta

Anyone who knew the princess could see she was suffering. What was just months ago a bright, ambitious woman was now a shell of her former self. She lay in her bed, day after day, doing nothing but sob and drink.

Her eyes, red and puffy, lingered on the bottles thrown at the wall. They had piled up until Peppermint Butler refused to bring her any more. The only beverage he brought now was water, along with some food she rarely ate.

Bonnibel was a mess, and she knew it. She hadn’t changed out of her clothes since that night. She’d put on the shirt Marceline gave her the day they met, and now she felt like she might never take it off again. When she inhaled the fumes Marceline left behind, she could almost sense her presence, but it was always fleeting, and she’d go back to drinking and crying.

She felt hollow. The mark on her neck pulsed, as if it missed its creator. Bonnibel felt as though someone had taken a part of her soul, and they might have. Mating marks were complicated like that. She was forever bonded to Marceline, and there was nothing she could do.

She gritted her teeth. This wouldn’t have happened if Marceline had just stayed home like she was supposed to, or at least acted like an adult for once. That idiot knew how important it was for her to make a good impression on a budding kingdom; a chance to show her power, to show that she was useful. But Marceline didn’t care, because of course she didn’t. She only cared about herself.

But deep down, Bonnibel knew the truth. She had caused the breakup, not Marceline. She’s the one who had told Marceline they were done. It was her fault; she would never see Marceline again, and it was all her fucking fault.

As she blamed herself, Bubblegum sobbed into her pillow. Deep, gasping sobs, so overcome with sorrow she couldn’t care less if she choked on her tears and died right there. Better off that way.

The only comfort in the thought was imagining Marceline at her grave, overcome with guilt, but what guilt did she have to feel? Bonnibel had already convinced herself that she was the true monster, and if she died, she wouldn’t blame Marceline for not caring.

A knock came at the door. Before Bonnie could yell at them to go away, the door opened.

“My princess,” Peppermint Butler began. “You can’t stay in here forever. Your kingdom needs you. You can’t stay hung up on Lady Abadeer forever.”

Bubblegum hissed at the mention. “Don’t ever say her name!”

“Look at you! All of this because of one woman. Ridiculous!”

Bonnie grabbed one bottle at the side of her bed and readied her aim. “Get. Out. Now.”

Peppermint Butler, however, did not even flinch. “Princess, you need to get over her. The candy people are worried, as am I. Are you going to let your children perish because of one breakup?”

The princess dropped her bottle and collapsed into her bed once more. “I don’t know what to do, Peps,” she cried. “It hurts so much. Please fix me, please.”

Peppermint walked over and grasped the princess’s hand, rubbing her back as she sobbed into her pillow. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. A demon’s mark can never be erased, never. I told you that you shouldn’t have let her mark you, remember?”

Bubblegum turned to look at him, her pink and green eyes wet and leaking. The butler softened.

“But… I know you loved her… As much as I don’t understand why,” He whispered. “If there’s any solace in knowing this, she’ll be just as pained being away from you as you are from her. Your souls are bound now.”

Bonnibel perked up. “So… does that mean she’ll come back to me?”

Peppermint Butler hesitated, his hand still hovering over hers. “I can’t say for certain,” he repeated more gently. “But bonds like this… they don’t go away. Not even beyond death. As long as Lady Abadeer is alive, she feels you. And she feels the absence.”

Bonnie swallowed, a hitch forming in her breath. “Good,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “I hope she hurts.”

Peppermint said nothing. There was nothing safe to say.

Outside the windows, the Candy Kingdom lights flickered uncertainly. Power grids are failing. Workers are falling behind. Projects forgotten. Without their princess, everything drooped like flowers left in the sun too long. Inside, the room reeked of alcohol and the faint sweetness of her decaying form.

“Princess,” Peppermint tried again, “your people need you.”

She let the words sink into her skull, but they only rattled around with everything else she’d been trying to drown out. Responsibility. Duty. Worth. Marceline. None of it helped. None of it mattered.

“They can wait,” she hissed.

Peppermint stiffened. “Bonnie-”

She flinched. Only Marceline could call her that. Or… she had. Peppermint closed his mouth, shame or fear or pity, she couldn’t tell, passing through his eyes.

“I don’t know how to be alive without her,” Bubblegum murmured. “Everything feels wrong.”

“You felt wrong before her,” he reminded her gently. “You just didn’t notice it as much. She filled a void, but the void was always there.”

Bubblegum blinked at him, stunned. The words struck somewhere bone deep.

Peppermint sighed and patted her hand. “Lady Abadeer is unpredictable. She might come back tomorrow, or a century from now. You can’t build your life around waiting for her.”

Bonnie’s chest cracked open with a fresh wave of grief. “But I want her to come back,” she choked out. “I want her to walk through that door and tell me I was stupid, and then I’ll apologize, and she’ll hold me, and… and everything will go back to normal.”

Peppermint Butler didn’t respond. He knew it was not that simple. Even if Marceline wanted to come back, she was too prideful for that. Both she and the princess were. It was part of the undoing of their relationship, like two immovable objects meeting each other. But the butler knew better than to utter these thoughts.

Instead, he let her sob, quiet and broken, until she sat up again, weakly, but upright. Her fingers rubbed the mark at her neck, tracing the place where Marceline’s fangs had sunk in with reverence and despair.

“Peps…” Her voice trembled. “If she’s hurting too… if she’s really hurting… why hasn’t she come back already?”

Peppermint looked at the wall rather than her eyes. “Perhaps she thinks you don’t want her.”

Bubblegum’s breath hitched. She had been the one to end it. She had been the one to walk away.

And Marceline, idiot, dramatic Marceline, had listened.

Suddenly, Bonnie curled forward, clutching her shirt, Marceline’s shirt, the fabric damp with tears. “I didn’t mean it,” she whispered over and over, each syllable cracking. “I didn’t mean any of it.”

Peppermint squeezed her shoulder. “Then tell her.”

“I can’t,” Bonnie rasped.

“Why not?”

“Because…” Her lips trembled. “…because she might not forgive me. And I don’t think I could survive that.”

Silence settled.

After a long moment, Peppermint Butler adjusted his suit calmly. “You don’t need to wait for her forgiveness,” he said. “Perhaps, you should forgive yourself.”

He stood.

“I’ll bring you more water,” he whispered as he moved toward the door, “and unlock the windows so some air can come in.”

Bonnie didn’t answer.

When he stepped out and closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the dimness, she curled into herself again. Her fingers pressed to her mark until it throbbed, sharply this time, painfully, like something tugging at her soul.

Her heart skipped.

“…Marceline?” she whispered into the empty room.

But only the sound of the wind answered her.