Timeline- Near end of S2
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The Tree Fort living room, usually a place of boisterous adventures and silly antics, was bathed in the warm, almost sacred glow of enchanted lanterns this evening.
The air hummed with a different kind of magic, woven from the strings of Marceline's axe bass. She reclined on the worn couch, eyes half lidded, lost in the rhyth.
Across the rug, Finn and Jake were sprawled out, utterly captivated, their usual boundless energy momentarily subdued. BMO, perched on Jake's big belly. Tree Trunks sat on a small stool, calmly knitting, occasionally offering a gentle hum along with the music, while Lady Rainicorn shimmered beside Jake, her rainbow hues softly glowing in the dim light.
Marceline finished a final, lingering chord that hummed through the tree house before slowly fading into the quiet.
"Whoa! Marcy, that was choice!" Finn exclaimed, snapping upright, his eyes wide with admiration.
"Yeah, that was math, dude! Seriously algebraic! Play another one!" Jake chimed in, his tail thumping a soft, rhythmic beat against the rug.
Marceline cracked a cool, satisfied smirk, a hint of her usual swagger returning. "Thanks, you dorks. I guess I got one more in me, maybe."
She idly plucked a few melancholic notes, the melody drifting into a minor key. Her gaze drifted too, becoming distant, unreadable. A flicker of something ancient and unspeakably sad passed over her features. Tree Trunks paused her knitting, her small eyes widening slightly, sensing the shift in the air.
"This one…" Marceline began, her voice softer than usual, almost a whisper, as if sharing a sacred secret. "This one's for my baby bro."
Finn and Jake exchanged a wide eyed, bewildered glance. BMO tilted its head, its screen momentarily displaying a quizzical emoji. Tree Trunks dropped her knitting needles with a soft clatter. Lady Rainicorn, usually serene, let out a surprised little whinny of Korean. The casual hum of the room seemed to vanish.
"Baby… bro?" Finn stammered, his brows furrowed in utter bewilderment. "Marcy, you got a brother? Whoa, what's his deal? Where's he at?"
Marceline didn't answer. Her expression was now a raw tapestry of emotion old pain, deep love, lingering sorrow. She simply closed her eyes for a moment, took a slow, breath, and began to play.
The music that poured from her axe bass was a haunting, raw melody, sparse and echoing, woven with a deep, aching sadness that spoke of forgotten ruins and centuries of solitude. It was the sound of a heart laid bare.
(Marceline's Song: "Dust & Little Thorns")
The mournful bass riff began, a slow, echoing pulse that seemed to call from the very depths of the ruined world.
She began singing softly, her voice raspy with an ancient emotion, almost a lament.
The world went quiet, just dust and the wind's low hum
After the big boom, when everything went numb.
I was just a sprout, kinda lost, kinda mean
Roaming the grey lands, saw stuff you ain't seen.
Thought I was the last one, under the sky so wide
'Til I saw a flicker, nowhere left to hide."
The music picked up almost immediately, a gentle, rhythmic pulse.
Just a tiny whisper, in the crumbling stone
A little set of horns, all alone, all alone.
Small as a turnip, with eyes like burnt out stars
Didn't know nothin' 'bout the world or its scars.
You were just baby, a knot in my chest, a sting
But I knew right then, you were my everything.
The Tree Fort's cozy living room dissolved, fading like smoke into a harsh, unforgiving landscape. Twisted metal skeletons of skyscrapers, jagged and broken, pierced a perpetually grey, smog choked sky.
Rubble stretched as far as the eye could see, a silent, grim testament to a world obliterated, punctuated only by the occasional grotesque, mutated flora clinging stubbornly to life.
Flashback - The Scorched Earth - 1000 Years Ago
7 year old Marceline, smaller and more ragged than the vampire queen Finn and Jake knew, clambered carefully over a treacherous pile of broken concrete slabs. She was a mere slip of a girl, thin and wiry, her eyes wide and wary, constantly scanning her surroundings for threats.
She clutched a rusty tin can, meticulously sifting through the debris, hoping to find anything edible in the desolate waste.
She paused, freezing. A faint whimper, almost lost to the mournful wind that constantly sighed through the skeletal city, reached her ears.
Her pointed ears twitched, straining to catch the sound again. It's barely audible, fragile. She followed it, cautiously picking her way through the precarious ruins, her small boots crunching on shattered glass and pulverized concrete.
And then she found him. Curled in a tight ball within the hollow of a shattered concrete pipe, barely larger than a plump gourd, lay a tiny, almost fetal demon boy.
His skin was a faint, ghostly greyish blue, his hair a mess of black fuzz, and two minuscule, almost imperceptible red horns were just budding on his forehead. He whimpered again, a pathetic, almost inaudible sound, reaching out a tiny hand aimlessly.
He was utterly helpless, utterly lost, a forgotten casualty of a world that no longer remembered its own beginning.
Marceline froze, a mix of shock and a strange, unfamiliar emotion washing over her face. Her first, primal instinct was to flee, to survive alone as she always has, to harden herself against any weakness.
But looking at the small, defenseless creature, so utterly vulnerable, something deep inside her shifted. He was just like her a remnant, alone in this broken world.
Slowly, carefully, she approached him, extending her hand. The demon boy flinched, then stared at her with wide, unseeing, yet strangely innocent eyes. He didn't cry harder, just looked, bewildered, as if trying to comprehend the world through blurred vision.
Marceline gently knelt, offering him the rusty tin can, a futile gesture given his obvious inability to eat from it. He didn't take it. Instead, she carefully touched his tiny hand. It was warm, surprisingly warm against the chill of the ruins.
A fierce, protective feeling, entirely new and overwhelming, surged through her. This little thing was hers. She scooped him up carefully, cradling his small, fragile body close to her chest. He was light, almost weightless in her arms.
She rocked him gently, a soft, wordless lullaby against the backdrop of the desolate wind. In that moment, surrounded by the ruins of everything, she made a silent, unbreakable vow: she wouldn't let him be alone. She would protect him. And quietly, a name whispered into the desolate wind, a secret just for them, she named him.
Marceline's Voiced over, as the music continued, a slow, hopeful melody now threaded through the song.
We traveled the wastes, two shadows in the sun
Looking for comfort, until there was none.
I'd find you sweet berries, I'd hunt for some grub
You'd curl up beside me, my little dusty cub.
You called me Marcy, a sound so clear and true
I swore on the wreckage, I'd always stick by you.
The scene shifted again, the grey hues softening. Marceline, still small and tough, but with a growing sense of responsibility, carried the demon boy on her back, bundled securely in a torn blanket.
He's a little bigger now, his horns more defined. They huddle under a makeshift lean to, cobbled from warped metal sheets and tattered fabric, seeking meager shelter from the relentless chill. Marceline, shivering, tried desperately to coax a flame from damp sticks, her breath pluming in the frigid air.
The demon boy whimpered, shivering against her back. She glanced at him, her face etched with deep concern, knowing they couldn't last much longer in the biting cold.
Marceline's Voiced over the melody becoming more wistful, tinged with a fragile hope.
Then a grown up came, all wild eyed and strange
Said his name, tried to rearrange
The broken pieces, made us feel kinda warm
Shielded us both from the coming storm.
You'd call him Uncle, big words for a tot
He played silly songs, gave us all he had got.
The scene changed once again, the atmosphere transforming subtly from desperate survival to a fragile, fleeting comfort. A man appeared, more disheveled and disoriented, but with glimmers of his former kindness shining through the increasing madness in his eyes.
He wore the Crown, but only for short, controlled bursts, visible tremors running through his body as he fought its influence. He found Marceline and the demon boy, shivering and huddled together.
With a strained, almost pained smile, he clapped his hands. Snow and ice crystals formed instantly, swirling into a small, crude, but wonderfully warm shelter around them. He pulled a small, old, tattered blanket from his bag and gently wrapped it around the demon boy, who snuggled into its warmth, his tiny face relaxing for the first time in days.
He then produced a rusty ukulele and, with trembling fingers, began strumming a simple, sweet melody. Marceline watched him, her usual guard slowly lowering, a flicker of trust in her wary eyes.
The demon boy giggled, a pure, innocent sound that echoed in the cold, reaching a tiny hand out towards the man's face. The man winced slightly from the crown's draining effects, but his smile, though tired, was genuine.
the music deepening into a profound sorrow, laced with a sense of betrayal and loss.
We were almost happy, a weird little crew
A demon, a human, and me, me and you.
He'd sing 'bout his princess, a love he forgot
While his mind slowly shattered, gave all that he'd got.
He gave you my Hambo, said "Hold this close, dear"
Then he just vanished, leaving us with our fear.
The scene darkened, a chilling pall falling over the fragile comfort. The mans, eyes were now vacant and haunted, his form increasingly consumed by the Ice Crown's madness, made his final, agonizing decision.
He left Marceline a hastily scrawled note, a desperate plea for understanding from a mind succumbing to the inevitable. Then, with a heartbreaking glance back at the two children huddled together, he quietly slipped away into the freezing, unforgiving landscape, his silhouette swallowed by the swirling snow.
Marceline was left holding the demon boy, looking confused and scared as the snow began to fall around them, obscuring Simon's retreating figure. She clutched her baby brother closer, her young face grim, a terrible understanding dawning in her eyes, she was alone again. They both were.
The music growing softer, more mournful, reflecting the centuries of loss and searching, a slow, aching ballad.
I learned to be tougher, to stand on my own two feet
But a part of my heart, you took with you, sweet.
I became a vampire, got strong, got so old
But the story of my little brother, it's never been told.
I thought you were gone, maybe turned to the dust
Just a painful memory, a love I could trust.
The music grew almost imperceptibly softer, becoming a haunting whisper.
But sometimes, in the shadows, or when the wind sighs low.
I swear I can feel you, my little bro.
And the world keeps spinning, Ooo's all shiny and new.
But a piece of my soul, it's still waiting for you.
The music faded out slowly, leaving a aching silence that seemed to fill the very air of the Tree Fort. The flashback dissolved, and the comforting warmth of the lanterns returned, stark against the raw emotions now laid bare.
Marceline slowly opened her eyes, her gaze distant, still holding the misty echoes of a thousand year old memory.
Finn and Jake were silent, their faces etched with shock and a profound, shared sadness they hadn't known they could feel for someone else's past.
BMO was utterly still, its screen displaying a single, crystal clear, tear like pixel, reflecting the quiet sorrow in the room. Tree Trunks sniffled softly, reaching for a tissue from her apron. Lady Rainicorn's rainbow glow pulsed faintly, her gaze fixed on Marceline with deep concern.
Finn, tears welling in his own eyes, was the first to stir. He gently clapped, a soft, respectful sound, followed quickly by Jake, then BMO, a delicate, almost reverent applause filling the suddenly vast space.
"Marcy…" Finn said, his voice thick with emotion, barely above a whisper. "Marcy, that was… whoa. That was… glob, that was heavy. You… you really had a brother? What happened to him? Where is he now?"
Marceline looked at Finn, her eyes still clouded with the past. The usual sarcastic bite, the cool detachment, was completely gone. She managed a weak, strained smile, a ghost of her usual grin.
"Yeah, Finn. I did." She sighed, a deep, shuddering breath that seemed to carry the weight of centuries. "It's… it's a long story. A real long, messed up story." Her gaze drifted, not landing on anyone in particular, but encompassing the weight of her untold history.
Marceline stood up, slinging her axe bass over her shoulder, the instrument feeling heavier than usual. "Maybe… maybe another time, okay? I'm kinda… I'm kinda done for tonight."
Before anyone could respond, before Finn could ask another pleading question, or Jake could offer a comforting word, she floated quickly out of the Tree Fort, a dark, fleeting shadow disappearing into the moonlit night.
She left behind a heavy silence. Finn, Jake, BMO, Tree Trunks, and Lady Rainicorn stared at the empty space where she had been, then at each other, their faces filled with bewildered confusion, grappling with the sudden, weighty glimpse into Marceline's deeply hidden past.