Chapter 11:

Fionna closed her eyes and felt his mouth fall on hers. It was strange, she was becoming acquainted with the way that he kissed her. The way that he pulled her lip into his mouth to let it graze against his teeth. It sent jolts through her body.

His hand had found the softness of her cheek and his thumb paced the hill of it which heated in his palm. The taste of her on his lips, the feel of her warmth in his hands, it was undoing.

He held her to him, and lavished in letting her take control; feeling her move against him. Feeling her want him and urge him for more. Marshall felt her tongue press against his teeth, and he tasted blood.

He pulled away from her, satisfied. Whatever she felt for him, she had shown him in that moment. It was enough. It had to be, because that small metal tang hit him hard. He hadn't tasted blood in literal centuries.

Fionna was not satisfied. The luxurious push and pull that he had offered in that kiss had sparked a curiosity in her that she sought to explore.

"Why did you stop?" She pouted.

"Play your video game, Fionna." He said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

She didn't like having him tell her what to do, and the look she gave him told him as such.

"Unless…" Marshall said, teasingly pushing her over. "You wanna keep going. I don't mind." He had meant it as a joke, but she stared at him seriously and said,

"I'll tell you when to stop."

His mouth fell open in disbelief.

"Fionna!" He gasped, his humor dissolving. Marshall couldn't help but glance down at her, considering the offer. His heart picked up as he eyed her flesh. Soft, plump and warm, and he imagined it in his hands. The pulse that beat beneath her skin, the blood that ran under it… the soft taste of it still lingered on his tongue and he pushed himself off of her. Glob, he couldn't do this. If they were to have a relationship, there had to be a line. A harsh line. He would not lose his head around her, not after he had nearly come undone the last time. Fionna sat up and watched him as he turned away. Was it something she said?

A knock happened at the door. Fionna and Marshall looked at each other questioningly. Fionna wondered if it was Cake coming to drag her home by the ear, Marshall feared it was the responsibility he had run from.

Marshall sighed heavily when he opened the door to see the glorious eyes of The Hand at his doorstep. The Hand bowed low before standing again. Marshall groaned.

"Don't do that…"

"Yes, your Majesty." They breathed.

"Or that…"

"Yes… well…" Said The Hand unsure. "Anyways, about the Nightosphere…" The Hand looked past the threshold to Fionna, as if she were unwelcome in the conversation.

"You dragged her into this yourself." Marshall said, watching her. "Say what you have to say."

"This is a discussion between royalty only…" Mumbled The Hand. "But if you insist on divulging to strangers the crumbling state of your kingdom, so be it."

"It's the Nightosphere. Isn't it supposed to be in a constant state of chaos?"

That comment earned Marshall a sharp slap on the face. It was such a surprise that he couldn't help but laugh.

"You're such a stupid kid! You know nothing about the Kingdom which you're supposed to rule. I can hold things down for a while but you have to step up too! You will rule the Nightosphere because the lives of those who feed on chaos rely on you. Mine included."

The seriousness of The Hand's tone wiped the smirk right off of Marshall's face.

"Fine," whispered Marshall, "but not in her lifetime."

"Oh, now she's not part of this conversation?" The Hand whispered back.

"What do you want from me, if you've got everything under control?"

"It's not under control." They said cutting him off. "There have been reports of 'The Eye of Golb' hovering above our Kingdom. He's watching us. Waiting for the Nightosphere to fall out of balance so that he can gobble us up. We need order."

"Order?!" Marshall cried disbelievingly. "In the Nightosphere?"

"Of course! Chaos and order are one and the same. The Nightosphere relies on a constant stream of well-tempered chaos. If that balance is sent out of wack, we get absorbed by either Glob or Golb. Personally, I choose Glob, but that's not whose creepy eyeball we've seen floating around. And without the Nightosphere, there's no buffer between this dimension and Golb's. You'd be putting your weird candy friends in danger, too."

This really was a serious conversation, but Marshall could feel the temptation to slither out of it in any possible way. Fionna, on the other hand, was fired up.

"What do we have to do?!" She cried from the living room. The Hand pulled its lip at her.

"You don't do anything, human. You're a disaster waiting to happen. This has nothing to do with you."

"Oh yeah?" She screamed, turning red from anger. Fionna drew the sword and pointed it straight at The Hand. "I'm the only one who can hold this sword. I've literally got all of the demon blood from the Abadeers in my hand."

The Hand laughed.

"That's because you're human. You're literally born of order. What do your people except organize yourselves into a grave? Civilization this, religion that… it's exhausting! You can hold onto it because you're literally incapable of absorbing its power. You're too weak."

Her temper flared, and her hands clenched around the hilt. An encouraging hum sounded from the sword, enticed by her rising emotion.

But she was not the only one who's anger had peaked. Marshall had felt his temper sway wildly to outrage and threw a swift punch at The Hand. Xe toppled over, cackling and wiping blood from their nose.

"She's not the only one who's weak." They teased. "You can't control yourself worth crap."

An animalistic growl left Marshal's throat, and the sword shook hungrily in Fionna's grasp to feed from his anger. Small sparks of chaos escaped the blade to fly and sizzle over his skin. It did nothing but fuel him.

The Hand lay on the ground, smirking widely at the scene.

"Think, Marshall. Do you feel it? You've got a lot of power, there. Get a grip on it."

Marshall's fury snapped, and he mutated into that beast Fionna feared so much. But still, he had control over his mind. He was standing still over The Hand, shaking but otherwise alright.

"Shut… up!" He howled. Marshall took in deep calculating breaths, his form slowly receding. "Just shut up!"

The Hand nodded. "That's it. You can do it."

Shakingly, and without throwing a few fists, Marshall buried the fury that had built within him, angry tears streaming silently from his face.

"I fucking hate you!" He spat at The Hand.

"I'm sure you must." Xe responded calmly. "But, you've got just a bit more power in you than before, and once you can wield that sword, you can fight off Golb."

Marshall scoffed.

"I'm not doing that. I'm not fighting that thing."

"You're going to because no one else can. That human can't do it for you. The sword in her hand is basically a toothpick. Trust me."

"Hey…" Whispered Fionna, blushing, sword slumping to the ground.

"But I have to admit… maybe she can teach you a thing or two about order. Being human and all. I've always hated your stupid bloodline. Disgusting, the things Abadeers have done with humans..."

"I guess… Chaos needs order." Marshall said wisely. The Hand laughed.

"It's still gross." They said. "As a reward for quelling your temper, I'll tell you what happened to your mom."

Marshall was silent, and he turned away. The Hand shook xis head.

"Don't tell me you've never wondered…"

"I have." Marshall spat quickly. "I just don't want to know."

"Afraid of being sad, Marshall?" Teased The Hand. "You better get over it. You're mom's dead, Marshall. It happened, and you're going to have to deal with it. That sword is the last gift she left you. Until next time, weakling." Xe said, disappearing again through a portal.