Nightmares (FioLee)

Chapter Eighteen

The little girl led them to a small room, before disappearing. It was dimly lit by several tall candles, and moss lined the walls. In the center of the room was a life-size stone statue on a small pedestal, holding a sheathed sword. Fionna moved forward and pulled the sword gently out of the statue's grasp, unsheathing it to get a better view.

The sword was glowing a little, mostly blue but with a tinge of purple. Fionna examined it. "Balance is pretty good. Looks like it's in pretty good shape, just needs some polishing." She ran her finger gently along the edge of the blade. "Still pretty sharp too."
"Um, Fi? I think the sword is the least of our problems." Marshall said, staring at the statue.
Fionna joined him in front of it. "What's wrong? Are deadly spiders crawling out of its eyes?"

"What? No. It just looks exactly like you." He was correct. Except for the lack of color and the different clothing, as well as the sculpted hair flowing down the statue's back, Fionna and the stone in front of her were identical.
"Weird." Fionna agreed. "But what are we going to do about it? We already have the sword."
"There's some prophecy stuff going on here, and I do not want to get sucked into it and spend another night without an actual bed."

"Alright, then let's leave." Fionna agreed. "We have to get this stuff back to Timothy and Gumball anyway."
"Hopefully, they're still fighting with each other and too busy to notice that we were gone."
Fionna laughed. "Hopefully. Maybe they'll just yell at you though."
Marshall pretended to be offended. "Me? What crime have I committed except being devastatingly attractive while also in a relationship?"

Fionna laughed. "I'm afraid that's a punishable offense, Marshall. If we step foot in the Candy Kingdom, they'll arrest you on sight."
"Aw, well, it doesn't matter as long as we can share a jail cell." Marshall grinned.
Fionna pulled him into a long kiss. "I think that can be arranged."

Marshall's grin widened, and he teased, "C'mon. If we hurry up, maybe they'll shorten our sentences."

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"Where have you two been?!" Cake demanded.
Timothy made a concerned face that somewhat resembled sucking on a lemon. "Did you at least use protection? Please tell me that you used protection."
"While you two were doing Glob knows what, we found some interesting things out." Gumball said coolly, placing an empty teacup on the counter next to him and swiveling in his chair to look directly at them.

"We found the sword of Caoilliann!" Fionna announced.
"And we didn't... there was no need to use protection." Marshall pointed out. "We didn't do anything like that anyway."
"So how do we turn Marshall back into the Vampire King, and me back into a normal human heroine?" Fionna asked, shooting him a questioning look. Marshall shook his head in response, and they turned back to the others.

Timothy sighed, pulling a thick, old book out from a stack on the counter top. "This details most things about Caoilliann and her artifacts. But... you two are sure...?" He looked at Cake questioningly.
"That was definitely Fionna." Cake said.
"What was me?" Fionna queried.

Timothy sighed, before flipping through the book and showing them all a faded picture. It was the same woman from the statue, but now in a different pose, raising her sword to the sky.
"Oh, we saw something like that, right, Marshall?" Fionna nudged her boyfriend accordingly, and Marshall sighed. "See, now the difference is that we have modern stuff nearby and can sleep on something that is not rocks, and thus we can deal with the obvious oncoming prophecy."

Timothy scowled at him. "This is Caoilliann, not your girlfriend."
"And thus it remains a prophecy." Marshall told him, before leaning against the wall. "I'm glad I didn't have to go out like Tobias, though. I enjoy being alive."
"What are you talking about?" Gumball asked him.
"Basically, Marshall believes that Fionna is the true heir to the throne, which certainly makes sense, but I'm still going to have to do a DNA test." Timothy explained in a harried tone. "And in any case, if I'm not mistaken, the entire point of the adventure was to restore Marshall's throne to him."

"I don't want it." Marshall replied. "I never wanted it."
Timothy glared at him, before retorting crisply, "You are an adult, and as such you should understand by now that life doesn't always work out the way that you want. You have a responsibility to the people, Marshall."
"Fionna would be a good queen." Gumball noted.

Timothy whipped around and glared at him. "Rislington, no one asked you. Do you recognize how hard it is to get him to have anything to do with the crown while he still had it? It was like herding cats!"
Cake and Fionna both shot him a look, and he coughed. "Present company excluded, of course. The point still remains that she is both untested and uninterested. You managed not to cause a civil war, or other general insanity, so we're sticking with you for the moment."

Marshall rolled his eyes. "It's not that hard to not be terrible at your job, Timothy. Why can't we just dissolve the system entirely? You know as well as I do that it doesn't work."
"Because that is not how things are done!" Timothy fussed.
Gumball looked over at them. "For Glob's sake, just do it, Marshall. If nothing else, you can lord the fact that you have a higher title over me again."

"You created your own kingdom." Fionna pointed out. "Why not give yourself a higher title?"
Gumball shrugged. "My kingdom's reach doesn't extend that far. Besides, Aaa is a land of princes. You know that. Of course, there's her, but besides her, and the Ice Queen, and now you I suppose, no one really goes higher than prince or princess."

Marshall and Timothy had been arguing in the corner quietly this entire time, but then Timothy stepped back triumphantly.

"...fine, I'll do it. But only so Fi doesn't have to wade through the bureaucracy by herself." Marshall sighed. "And so no one thinks she straight-up killed me for the stupid title."
"I doubt anyone believes that, but it should be fairly simple." Timothy commented dryly, moving back to where he had been, and flipping ahead in the dusty tome to the chosen ceremony.