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Chapter Text

The freezing wind from the mountain blew through the open window, causing Bonnibel Gumbald to shiver deeper into her pile of blankets and wish that her windows had panes. Her Uncle Gilbert was off performing another get-rich-quick scheme in Destiny City, which left her alone with the rest of her family. Aunt Lolly wasn’t so bad given that she was asleep most of the time, but Bonnie couldn’t stand another second of Cousin Chicle’s braggadocio. He constantly strutted around their run-down shack, practicing his lines for another of the interminable plays he earned a pittance from. The plays were what infuriated Bonnie the most, how Uncle Gilbert would beam every time his son rushed home and chattered about the new role he’d gotten, then shush her when she tried to talk about her latest science project.

Bonnie was violently interrupted from her brooding by the slamming of the downstairs door, a sure sign Uncle G. had returned. She heard him talking in hushed but panicked tones to Aunt Lolly, who merely made her usual noncommittal mumbles. From the stamping of his boots on the dirt floor, it sounded as if his snake oil sale hadn’t gone very well. Bonnie knew he’d probably take out his frustration on her in the morning with interminable chores, but that could wait. She drew the coarse blankets tighter around her and drifted into a restless sleep.

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On top of the looming mountain, the Ice Prince screamed madness into the night sky. The crown was especially insistent, digging its mental tendrils deeper into the Prince’s mind. It had begun to whisper to him even when he wasn’t wearing it, telling him the world was going to be destroyed and only the crown’s power could save it. He’d begun to forget who he was before the crown. It had been subtle at first, his mother’s voice warping in his memory, until it became an overwhelming tide of amnesia that wiped out even how he’d found the crown. Not even his dreams offered any comfort anymore; they were all the same. Vague recollections of a primordial existence as a lizard, a flash of light, and then nothingness. The same nothingness that will surely come again, that we must protect against, that we must preserve the world from, forever pristine in ice—

Finn gritted his teeth and willed the flurries of snow to a halt. He calmed himself and thought of Gunther--no, Jake--and his family. He felt the warmth in his core slowly extend out to his unnaturally cold hands and allowed himself a sigh of relief. He’d held the crown’s power back, at least for a moment. It wasn’t sustainable, but it would buy a moment of lucidity for him to continue his research on the crown. Maybe even bring Jake back from the madness that had overtaken him. He just had to keep moving. Even a second of weakness, a moment of indecision could lead to a world of eternal ice and snow. For his family, for his old life, for all the people of Farmworld—Finn would persevere. As he turned to go back into the ice cavern he called home, he noticed something twinkling in the valley below, brighter than the dim lanterns of the houses. He shrugged it off. There was no time to waste on nonsense like the townspeople.

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Bonnie awoke to the sounds of crackling fire and strident yelling. One of the voices was unmistakably Uncle Gilbert’s, deep and smooth, but the other was nasal and snide, the voice of a true con artist. She crept over to the windowsill, and the true situation nearly made her cry out with fear. A line of Destiny City soldiers was in formation before the house, two of the soldiers restraining a viciously struggling Chicle. Aunt Lolly was prone with her knife lying next to her, presumably after attempting to rush the soldiers. Uncle G. was on his knees, pleading before the figure Bonnie had only seen from propaganda posters. Flanked by his loyal advisor Toronto and a hulking bodyguard, the King of Farmworld reared his horse and dramatically flourished his sabre.

“Hear ye, Gilbert Gumbald! I have caught you in the act of peddling false remedies and snake oil without a proper con license! Though this is a hanging crime, I respect you as a fellow scammer. Therefore, I shall spare you by merely burning down your shack!” To illustrate his point, the posse of soldiers began to prep their various torches, besides the two trying to avoid Chicle’s flailing arms.

“Hey, c’mon, my liege, haven’t we always paid our dues?” Bonnie stared in disbelief. Was he seriously trying to weasel his way out of his punishment by scamming the greatest scammer of all? Against all logic, Uncle G. continued. “You’ve seen my skill in scamming the people of Destiny City, they didn’t even realize they were being fooled. I can be useful to you, I can help you in your rule!”

“Hmmm. Your skills are definitely remarkable, and the rest of your family has evidenced considerable…spirit.” The king gestured to Chicle, being held at arm’s length by the now mildly bruised guards. “However,” the king’s smile grew cold, “you won’t be of any use to me this far away from the capitol, and if you’re in the capitol you won’t be needing this house anymore, now will you?” The massive guardsman next to the king picked up Uncle G. with a single hand and stood at attention, as the king’s troops prepped their torches.

Bonnie had seen enough. She didn’t know what would happen to the family, but it didn’t matter anymore. She would finally be free, to do what she wanted to do instead of following Uncle G.’s orders. She could just slip out the back with her stuff, make a new life for herself without having to take care of anyone. Thankfully, she travelled light. As flames licked up the walls of the shack, Bonnie quietly crept away under the cover of darkness from the only home she’d ever known. With just her Ball Blam Blergler (first edition), her shawl, and a few pieces of bread, she set off for the one place nobody would possibly visit. The ice mountain.

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Finn was up late with the hammer again. He spun and swung in a circle around himself, shattering delicate ice chandeliers and immense ice pillars alike. The splintering and crunching of the ice drowned out the droning whispers of the crown for a moment, and he knew that once it took him over this destruction would buy him a little time as the crown tried to rebuild the ice palace. The crown’s jewels twinkled at him from atop the ice dresser. The faint red light bored into his mind, whispering the same things it always did. You are the hand of madness…destined to preserve the world…bring it into the age of ice and whispering snow…

Finn shook his head, uncomfortably aware that he had been staring at the crown for too long. He needed something else to do, something to distract him. Something living, like Jake had been before the corruption claimed him. As much as he loathed it, he knew that cooping himself up in the ice caverns would only increase the temptation to give in to the crown’s power. He couldn’t keep devoting himself to a solution that might never come. Finn steeled his resolve and stared over at the crown. Just for a few minutes. Just to fly down to the town. He strode over to the dresser, and raised the crown high above his head. The crown dropped on to the Ice Prince’s head. His hair wriggled its way out of his hood, expanding into wings that sent the prince soaring into the air above his domain. Through the madness, he remembered his mission. Find something in the town. A new companion, something interesting… He suddenly felt something in the back of his brain. A sense that a sentient being was entering his domain, a living creature. A distraction. He swooped downwards along the icy winds, hair flapping in the breeze, seeking out the interloper on the mountain.

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Bonnie was stuck in a snowdrift, wishing she’d been abducted by the king’s troops instead of trying to set off along the mountain. Her bread had run out about an hour ago, and the shawl was frozen solid around her. The storm that had been pelting sleet on her for the last hour picked up to an even more frenzied pace, nearly freezing her worn shoes to the ground. Bonnie took one last step forward and her knees gave out, sending her tumbling into the massive bank of snow not even halfway up the mountain. Through her haze of impending hypothermia, she thought sadly to herself about the life she could have lived, alone atop the mountain where she could experiment all she pleased. She raised her head for the last time to gaze at the mountaintop, and as she looked she thought she could see a strange silhouette moving through the blizzard. She shrugged it off as her slowly dying brain imagining things. As the birdlike figure came closer, she shut her eyes and gave up, wishing it had been any other way.

Chapter Text

Against her expectations, Bonnie opened her eyes, and immediately shut them again to block out the glaring light. Am I…dead? Her back felt cold, but not as cold as the snow on the mountain. She opened her eyes a hair, taking in her surroundings. The room she was in appeared to be a facsimile of a hospital room, but fashioned completely out of ice. In addition to her shawl she’d been wrapped in a faded blue cape, much warmer than it looked. To her right, someone had placed her bag of supplies on a finely made ice chair. She turned her head to her left and barely resisted the urge to lurch out of the bed in fear.

It took a while of observation for Bonnie to figure out that the creature resting its head against the wall, snoring gently, was a humanoid and not a bird of some sort. Its most noticeable feature was its long nose, which had appeared at first glance to be a sharp beak, protruding out of its periwinkle-blue face. As Bonnie stared at it, she realized it wasn’t entirely as ugly as it first appeared. Long blonde hair flowed out from beneath its hood and framed its slumbering face almost ethereally, despite the sharp fangs visible in its open mouth. The strange hood had two “ears” poking out the top, which framed an imposing golden crown inlaid with rubies. Bonnie shook her head and turned away from it. Whatever it was, it probably didn’t have good intentions. It had most likely swooped down and taken her in order to eat her later on, and she needed to get away from it as quickly as possible.

Bonnie gingerly raised the cloak off of herself and took a step on to the polished ice floor, only to jerk back her foot with a yelp. She must have gotten frostbite during her brush with death on the mountain; her feet were too blistered to walk further than a few yards. Worse than that, however, was that her cry of pain had awoken the creature beside her. Its eyes snapped open, and the catlike pupils swiveled to land on Bonnie. It swung to face her, and she noticed that nearly its entire right arm had been severed sometime in the past. Instead a robotic pincer dangled from the stump of its upper arm, which it used to smooth back its flowing hair.

“Ah! I see you’re awake!” The creature’s voice was nothing like she’d imagined. It wasn’t particularly nasal or grating, it just sounded like a normal teenage boy’s, albeit with a frantic edge to it. “May I ask who you are, to venture up to such a height? Do you trust in the snow as well?”
Bonnie decided it wouldn’t hurt to talk to this strange creature. It seemed rational enough, so she might be able to convince it to let her go. It - he? - almost looked pathetic, large eyes fixed on her, eagerly awaiting her answer.

“Please…erm…sir, I’m Bonnibel Gumbald. I was merely fleeing the King of Farmworld’s troops who’d burned my house down. I’ll be on my way shortly, but if you have any food, I’d greatl-“ She was interrupted by the creature lurching upward as if pulled by a string. He spread his arms in what he probably intended to be a gesture of hospitality, but ended up being more of a threat.
“FOOD! Of course, I’d forgotten how you would need that by now! You must be starving! Stay right there, I’ll fetch something for you!” Before she could tell him to stay a bit longer, the creature swiveled on his heel and sped out of the room, leaving Bonnie alone to assess her options.

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The Ice Prince was ecstatic. He’d done what he had set out to do! He didn’t quite remember why he was supposed to find something to take care of, but he’d done it! His own Gunther, an apprentice to aid him in his glorious quest to preserve the world! All he had to do was repair that unsightly damage to the palace, and he’d be on his way with the peasant girl to help him! The prince hummed as he hovered over to the fridge, happier than he’d been in months. He sorted through the various week-old food, trying to find something that wasn’t frozen for Bonnibel to eat, when he heard a crash from the infirmary.

Worried over bandits or the Destiny Gang, he swept in to the room prepared to encase the interlopers in ice only to find Bonnibel propping herself up, evidently after trying to walk. She spun to face him as he fluttered in, and drew from her bag a large projectile weapon of some kind. The prince decided not to immediately freeze her; not only was she a good candidate for being his Gunther, but he was pretty sure her gun was only loaded with tennis balls.

“Alright, start talking you creepy birdman! Are you gonna eat me? Enslave me and force me to build a doomsday machine? What do you want?” The barrel of the gun trembled, but Bonnibel’s face remained firm. “Well?”

The prince thought it wouldn’t do any harm to humor her. After all, she was his guest, and it would be best to make a good impression.

“Haha, of course I don’t eat people! I’m the Ice Prince of Farmworld, has news of my reign not yet spread? I don’t hurt people, I want to protect them! With my ice and your…whatever that is,” he gestured to the gun in her hand, “we can both prosper in the new world of frost and snow!”

“What do you mean, ‘protect them’?” From across the room, Bonnibel’s eyes narrowed.

“The world’s dangerous, Miss Gumbald.” The Ice Prince began to pace back and forth in midair as he monologued. “But! I’ve been blessed by this crown with a vision! If I encase the world in ice, then nobody wil-HNRK“

The prince was interrupted by one of the tennis balls from Bonnibel’s gun bending his nose against his forehead. He raised his arms and prepared to freeze her, but some impulse held him back. She looked nervous, had he frightened her?

“OH, YOU ONLY WANT TO FREEZE THE WORLD? WHAT A REASONABLE GOAL, SORRY I DOUBTED YOU!” Bonnibel kept the gun pointed at him, and the prince realized somewhere along his monologue he’d probably said something distressing. For an instant he raised his hands to encase her in ice, but as the ice magic crackled along his fingertips he dropped them again. The best thing, he decided, was to cut his losses and leave her alone for a while.

“Well, looks like I have to go, uh, fix the, erm, throne room, see you soon but not too soon bye!” The Ice Prince sped out of the infirmary, painfully aware of how much more manic than normal he sounded. I stared down that skeleton monster in the basement, but I’m afraid to hurt a teenage girl? I must truly be going soft. I need to refocus on the mission, go freeze something important. The little bit of Finn that still remained within him redoubled its thoughts, and resisted the crown for a bit longer. Eh, I’ll just make a few more rooms for the castle. It’s been looking a bit on the small side lately anyway.

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Bonnie’s interrogation of the Ice Prince only left her with more questions than before. He didn’t seem homicidal to her, but he’d talked about freezing the world. If he could do that, why didn’t he just freeze her instead of keeping her alive? It was like he was of two minds on the issue, which confused her the most. And what had he meant when he said the crown had blessed him with a vision?

Bonnie decided that those questions could wait until her next inevitable encounter with the prince. Like it or not, she didn’t have many options besides staying in the ice palace. She still couldn’t walk very far or run at all, and the hills were doubtless crawling with soldiers from Destiny City sent to find her. While the Ice Prince could possibly be dangerous, he wasn’t an immediate threat, and if she could make him retreat with a tennis ball launcher then she could probably go hand-to-hand with him as well.

Bonnie unsteadily rose to her feet, careful not to put too much pressure on either. Even though part of it was already occupied, she’d definitely made it to the mountaintop. She was determined to explore it, frostbite or not frostbite. She even allowed herself a slight grin. Things were looking up.

Chapter Text

Things were not looking up for Gilbert Gumbald, who was being ferried to Destiny City in the back of a royal carriage. Squeezed into one side of the garishly decorated carriage was his family, Chicle still brooding over his fight with the guards and Lolly nursing her wounded head. Across from them, the king was dozing off on his impassive bodyguard while his steward Toronto haggled with the Gumbald family over their new life.

“What do you mean, you don’t have in-palace suites? You’re going to take us as courtiers and not let us into the court?” Gumbald had been arguing for several hours, and he’d definitely lost his cool. Much to his chagrin, he noticed that the steward across from him hadn’t even broken a sweat during their stringent argument.

“Monseigneur Gumbald, you have not proven your worth. You are still on probation, as it were, until you prove your benefit to us. Must I remind you of the punishment you were originally given…?” Toronto lifted a single eyebrow, a gesture that enraged Gumbald.

As Gumbald tensed to scream at the smug steward, the loud droning of Destiny City’s carnyces signaled that the carriage had finally reached its destination. King Juliem jerked out of his nap and patted down his curls, while his bodyguard remained as impassive as ever. The gates to Destiny City creaked open, but Gumbald leaned back in his seat. He’d seen the city dozens of times, so the carefully polished streets adjoining the main road failed to impress him. Gumbald couldn’t help but notice that although Lolly poked her head out the window to take in the new sights, Chicle seemed as uninterested in his father in the city. He hasn’t ever been in a big enough production to reach Destiny City…has he?

Gumbald’s thinking was interrupted as the carriage trundled into the palace, prompting a brigade of gaudily dressed guards to surround the carriage. The off-palace quarters they escorted the family to were definitely an improvement from their previous shack, but it was hardly the grandeur Gumbald had envisioned. His shoulders slumped. Maybe creating royalist propaganda wouldn’t be as great as scamming after all.

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Unbeknownst to Gumbald, he was being monitored by more forces than just those of the king. From a grate beneath the Dirt Beer Tavern across the street, a pair of eyes followed the royal escort as they brought the family in. The hidden spy quickly jotted down a description of the Gumbald family for future reference. Such newcomers to the royal entourage were rare, and if they were unwilling guests then they could be key allies of the Veritas Brigade.

Captain Taylor Trunks of said brigade hopped down from the stool she’d been using to reach the window and trotted off towards the meeting room. She knew they wouldn’t be busy at the moment; if it was anything like last meeting, Kenneth would be going on about his dimensional theory again. She knocked twice on the door, prompting a lot of shuffling behind it before the eye-slot on it slid open.
“Password?” Starchy sounded more tired than usual, the king must have had him on double duty again.

“To Beelzebub with the brewer’s knave. Lux in Tenebris.”

“Oh, it’s just you TT. Well, come on in anyway, we were about to wrap up.” TT glanced around the room and saw the usual members. Starchy the gravedigger, their ostensible leader; Nurse Pam Cake, the king’s personal physician; and Kenneth, the overly excitable conspiracy theorist. She sighed and hopped up into one of the folding chairs.

“Peacemaster gone again?” Peacemaster, the resident mystic of the palace, had been one of the most promising new members of the brigade, but he’d been so busy entertaining the king that his presence had been missed for several meetings in a row.

“He made the mistake of showing King Juliem the detachable-thumb trick. Honestly TT, the king’s just as bad as your son when it comes to those magic tricks. Poor Peacemaster hasn’t even done anything mystic yet, the king just has him doing parlor tricks and sleigh-of-hand.” Nurse Cake was by far the most fervent of the brigadiers; years of seeing to the king’s physique had instilled a great disdain for him within her.

“Y’all’ve got bigger things to worry about than Peacemaster’s job integrity. There’s some new folk being brought into town. They’re in the old cottage across from Choose Bruce’s Emporium, a whole family. I’d never seen the mother before, but the father and son look familiar.” She couldn’t quite place either of them, but the father had given TT a bad vibe, like he’d been a troublemaker in the city before.

“What’d they look like?” Starchy inquired. “I don’t meet a whole lotta living folks in my job, but I got a pretty good memory for the ones I do see.” Starchy had once been a baker, hence the nickname, as well as the king’s number-one supporter. He’d been rewarded for his loyalty by being dubbed royal gravedigger, a task he despised so much that he founded the anti-royalist brigade in response.

“Hmh. The father’s kinda mid-sized, got a bristly mustache, beard barely hanging on to his chin, balding with his remaining hair flopped in front-“

“HEY! Th-that sounds like the guy who sold me the fake teleporter! He said it’d take me to another dimension but it didn’t! And then when I tried to give it back to him he didn’t give me a refund!” Kenneth had hopped up from his chair and was trembling with anger. “We can’t work with HIM, you guys! He’s a scammer!”

“Yeah, I ‘member now, that’s the guy who sold me the “back cream” that gave me hives for a week!” Starchy pulled up his shirt to illustrate, causing everyone but Nurse Cake to recoil in disgust.

“Anyway,” TT said, with a glare at Starchy, “working with ‘em might be our best option to finally take the king down. If this fella’s as much of a big-shot scammer as you say, he could even trick the king. Nurse Cake, notify Peacemaster of what all happened. I’ll go down and pay the new arrival a visit.” TT didn’t wait for Kenneth to go off on another of his spiels, but turned and clambered up the secret exit and out into the street. Time for some subterfuge.

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Chicle crawled out of the second floor window and paused to catch his breath on the ledge. It wasn’t strictly necessary, since the guards outside had directly told him they were only supposed to keep Gumbald in, but sneaking out made Chicle feel cool. He dropped lightly down to the ground and made sure to toss back his hair when he landed. He cracked an eye open to see if any hot girls had noticed his rooftop escape, but to his disappointment the only person in sight was a vaguely familiar, wizened woman who had to be in her sixties at least.

Chicle began to saunter off towards the theater when he noticed the woman coming towards him. She looked harmless enough, wearing a simple homespun shawl, so he assumed she just recognized him from one of his performances and wanted an autograph. Unfortunately for Chicle, this left him completely blindsided when she pulled a truncheon out from her shawl and began to swing it wildly in the air.

“Hey, what are you doing lady?” Chicle raised his hands up in alarm and tried to back away, but he hit the back wall he’d dropped from with a thud. He’d heard of obsessed fans, but he hadn’t imagined his cult of personality taking such an effect yet.

“How bout you come with me, mister,” she drawled at him, “there’s lots of folks who’d like to know what’s goin’ on around here with you.” That was definitely a bad sign. He remembered his manager had told him to avoid any encounters with fans that might lead to bad publicity, and this definitely seemed shady.

“You mean you don’t want any signed memorabilia?” Chicle’s eyes darted around the backstreet, trying to see if this was some sort of elaborate prank. “I’ll even give you my cravat as a “first obsessed fan” bonus if you want, but it’s a bit-“

“Now what are you talking about, son? You can keep your little kerchief, I’d just like a talk with you in private.” She eyed him quizzically, and he realized that she legitimately had no idea that he was an actor.

“You mean you aren’t a hysterical fan of mine trying to get your hands on my property?” A part of Chicle felt almost offended that she wasn’t clamoring to get his attention, but that only confused him more as to her intention. “I’m Chicle Gumbald? Lead actor in Lauren S. Printsessin’s play Summer Showers II?”

“Now you hold on a sec,” she narrowed her eyes at him, “what are you tryin’ to pull? I was the lead actress in Summer Showers I, and I never seen you before. Fess up or I’ll make you!” She brandished her truncheon for emphasis.

“Well,” Chicle said abashedly, “you, uh, might not exactly have, erm, recognized me, I looked rather…different at the time.”

It took a bit more cajoling from her to get him to reveal the full extent of his role, but once he did she couldn’t stop laughing as she escorted him to the Veritas headquarters. It made sense, though. Chicle was rather fit and trim, and he did have a fairly high-pitched voice. But it still amused TT to no end that the king had unwittingly summoned, of all people, a drag performer to his council. Still, she couldn’t be too careful. Best to let Starchy and the others ask their own questions, and see what they thought of Princess Chicle.

Chapter Text

Bonnie, high atop the parapets of the ice palace, pulled the prince’s cloak tighter around her against the growing chill. The view from the highest point of the castle was truly awe-inspiring, far grander than anything she’d seen before. She could see the village and, if she squinted, the charred ruins of the shack she’d lived in. The immense forest stretched nearly to the horizon, interrupted only by the glaring lights of Destiny City at its edge. The icy towers caught the setting sun’s light and dazzled her eyes, but she didn’t mind.

She laid back against the chilly wall in thought. If she wanted to try and eke out an existence up here, she’d need to figure out what the Ice Prince’s deal was. He seemed to be able to obtain food, and if she could get to the bottom of the world-freezing obsession, she might be able to get him to help her. Besides, it might be nice to finally have someone her own age to talk to. Back at home there was only her elder Cousin Chicle, and he wasn’t exactly the most sympathetic listener.

Bonnie took out a heavily torn ream of paper and some charcoal and began idly brainstorming on what the prince’s deal was. She decided to ignore some of her initial lurid theories, like him being a creature from outer space, and settled on three that she felt most likely.

“Theory One: The Ice Prince is the king’s illegitimate son.” Bonnie’s personal favorite, since it was the most scandalous. “-Both have blonde hair. –Both are royalty + have crowns. –Both are…uh…” Well, it was more circumstantial than factual, but it was a possibility nonetheless. It didn’t quite explain the flying bit, but that was where the second theory came in.

“Theory Two: The Ice Prince is a confidence man using wires and pulleys to trick people into thinking he’s magic.” Doubtful. He wasn’t really a confidence man, more a confidence boy, and Bonnie was pretty sure there hadn’t been any invisible wires when he’d flown into the infirmary. Still, couldn’t hurt to mark it down.

“Theory Three: I’m completely insane and there is no Ice Prince. It’s all a paranoid hallucination or a dream or this is purgatory or something along those lines.” Edgy but definitely more plausible than royalty being born with the power of flight.

Bonnie sighed in frustration and shoved the notes back into her pack. Speculation wasn’t getting her any closer to figuring out how the prince worked. As much as she disliked the thought of it, she’d have to try and interact with him to figure out why he was the way he was. Tracking him down, however, might be a bit difficult. From what she’d already seen of it on her way to the rooftop, the entire palace was a maze of rooms built with no discernable order besides all being completely made of ice. There were staircases leading to nowhere, uselessly placed buttresses, and all sorts of bizarre design choices that made trying to find anything a nightmare.

Wrapped in the soft cape and her shawl, Bonnie caught herself starting to doze off. As nice as the rooftop was, it would get bitterly cold once night fell, and it wouldn’t do for her to freeze again before she could conduct her interview. Sighing with regret, she trotted down the stairs in search of the prince.

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The Ice Prince was up late again refreezing the entry hall. Some unknown barbarian had been smashing his beautiful ice pillars again, and he had to repair them. He’d need to work through the night to finish all of them, especially if he wanted them to look nice. It hadn’t bothered him before, but now that the pink girl was here he wanted to show off some of his powers and build something truly great. The first one seemed finished, so he floated back to admire his handiwork.

And it ended up looking like he’d just slapped together some snowballs and called it done. The carving of himself barely even looked human. The eyes were just beady dots and the nose had broken off. The girl—he couldn’t quite remember her name—somehow looked even worse in carving form than the prince did. He’d only really gotten to see her during their confrontation in the infirmary, so he’d just improvised on her features. Frustrated, the prince tossed the chisel as hard as he could into the wall, where it twanged for a moment before splintering apart.

The crown, sensing opportunity, tightened its tendrils of control around the prince’s mind. It whispered to him, telling him to stop the architectural obsession and fulfill Master Evergreen’s objective. What little of Finn’s original personality remained tried to fight it, but the crown was experienced from millennia of warping minds to suit its purposes. The prince didn’t resist the growing chill within himself. Maybe things would be better off if he just heeded the crown, let it take over.

At the cusp of giving in completely, the prince was interrupted. He jumped at the sound of a light cough behind him and turned to find the pinkish girl from before, clutching a ream of papers to her chest. What was her name? Betty? Bobbie? He knew that he’d only met her a few hours ago, but somehow his memory of her name was still foggy. What the prince did remember about her was that she’d been afraid of him, and that wouldn’t do for an apprentice. All he could do now was try and act as nonthreatening as possible, and hope she didn’t hold his plans against him.

Before Bonnie could inquire about her planned interview with the prince, he leapt back from where he’d been standing and clambered spider-like around to the back of the pillar, leaving only his face peeking around one side. He broke into a goofy grin that was likely intended to be charming, but, considering his pointed teeth, looked rather intimidating.

“I’m…sorry I scared you earlier.” The prince’s voice was calm and measured compared to his usual frantic tone. “I just wanted you to feel better. Again, I’m sorry.” He scuttled a bit further around the pillar, nervously awaiting her response.

Bonnie was taken aback. She’d thought that the Ice Prince was a raving madman that she’d need to control, but he seemed genuinely penitent. Even after she’d nearly broken his nose with the tennis ball, he was the one apologizing to her for scaring her with his “freeze the world” talk.

“For what it’s worth, I’m, ah, sorry about hitting you with the tennis ball. I left the launcher back at the infirmary.” She turned and sat with her back to the pillar, hoping it would coax him out from his perch above it. “I’m not here to hurt you again, I just want to ask you some questions.” The prince crept down slowly from the pillar and, after noticing that Bonnie was indeed unarmed, laid down on the ice facing her.

“Ask away!” The prince gave another of his crocodilian smiles, and added, “I’ve some questions of my own for you, come to mention it! But uh, we can start with your questions, if you want to.” He trailed off at the end of the sentence, nervously pulling at his hair, and Bonnie felt a bit better knowing he was as apprehensive around her as she was around him. She pulled out her charcoal and prepared to conduct her interview with the prince.

The interview dragged on to the early hours of the morning and Bonnie hadn’t gotten anywhere. The prince had no idea who he was, where he’d come from, or if he even had a name besides “The Ice Prince.” He’d answered her questions patiently, but he seemed to quickly being growing bored. Bonnie, for her part, was increasingly frustrated with her lack of progress, even though she was fairly certain the prince was telling the truth.

“Hey, can I ask my questions yet? You said I could ask you some questions too.” The prince’s voice echoed from the rafters; he must have floated up there while Bonnie was writing. She’d determined previously, after waving her hand over the very confused prince’s head, that he wasn’t using any wires to fly. He dropped down to her level and gazed plaintively at her. Bonnie scratched out another sentence and scrunched up the papers. It wasn’t like she was getting anywhere with the interview, might as well let him talk.

“Sure, go ahead.” Bonnie fell on to her back and tucked the shawl around her. Though she was getting used to the cold, the ice was still too chilly to lay on directly. “Just don’t, y’know, get too persona-“

“Why are you pink?” The prince blinked innocently at her then hastily added, “I mean, most of the humans I see are a bit pinkish, but you’re completely pastel!”

“It’s none of your--it’s just a skin condi--I don’t see why--” Bonnie spluttered in indignation, and finally settled on, “Well, why are YOU blue?” She put her hands on her hips triumphantly, but inside was still humiliated at the prince pointing out her skin. Although she’d begun to describe it as a skin condition, it really wasn’t; it was just the way she was born. And she wasn’t going to let some jumped up teenager who probably wasn’t even real nobility blithely ask her about it.

The prince, seemingly nonplussed by her outburst of embarrassment, suddenly beamed. “Oh, oh, I can answer that question, that’s easy! It’s the crown that makes me blue, and keeps me nice and chilly!” He gestured to the ruby-encrusted crown he wore, which gleamed menacingly in the frigid moonlight. “It really is a good friend. It always gives me the best advice.” Bonnie stopped mid-rant and slowly turned to the prince, who was smiling vapidly.

“The crown gives you advice?” She stared at the crown, trying to find any trace of sentience in it. No matter how she looked at it, it was still just polished metal and some shiny stones in her eyes. She’d dismiss it out of hand, but after seeing the prince flying she wouldn’t doubt a talking crown. “Like, a little voice in your head?”

“Yes, yes! You don’t hear it? It talks all the time, even when I try to sleep!” The prince gesticulated wildly, swinging his arms around to indicate the entire room. “It says I’ve got to protect the world with my ice, but…” He trailed off, and teased his fingers apologetically around the brim of the crown. “I’ve really busy lately.”

A plan began to develop in Bonnie’s mind. “Would you like me to help? With the crown? If I just had the right stuff, I could get it to leave you alone!” The prince’s hooded eyes lit up, and she could tell she had him hooked. “All you’ve got to do is get me a couple things to investigate it with, and I’ll fix it right up!” She rattled off a variety of items she knew would be near impossible to find. Glutinous Sand, Bion Connectors, a Perfect Range Sensor; the only place they could even be found was in Destiny City. While the prince searched futilely in the surrounding forests, Bonnie would be free to relax in the ice palace. Or so she thought.

The prince, like a great bird of prey, flapped along the breeze towards the city, thoughts of respite from the crown swirling in his head. Ignoring the crown’s furious screeching in his mind, he even felt hopeful enough to hazard a few languid spins through the clouds. With a sweep of hair he descended towards the parapets of Destiny City, oblivious to the impending disaster his arrival would bring.

Chapter Text

After several twists and turns through the mazelike streets, Chicle was shoved into a dingy and unfamiliar tavern. A couple of actors brooded over their drinks around the room, but none of them recognized Chicle without his makeup on. He thought of crying out for help from this strange woman but for all he knew the actors were in league with her, a suspicion that was confirmed when they gathered around at her approach.

“Alright fellas,” she drawled, “we got a visitor out from the sticks here with us what that some of y’all might know. This fella right here had a starrin’ role as Princess Crunchy the Unforgiving last season, and with any luck we can get him to help this season too.” One of the actors, a muscled, swarthy man who played Princess Crunchy’s love interest in last season’s play, stared in shock; evidently he’d believed Chicle to be a woman.

The elderly woman turned to Chicle and extended her hand. “I got a proposition for you, Miss Crunchy. You ever heard of” —she flourished a small badge from within her jacket—“the Veritas Brigade?”

“N-no, I, ah, that is,” Chicle stammered in fear, “What do you want with me? I’ll have you know my father has a prominent position as a royal advisor, so you’d better not hurt me or anything!” Evidently that wasn’t what the woman wanted to hear. She brandished the truncheon again and glared at him.

“I’m askin’ the questions here mister, so don’t get fussy with me. And we know all about your big-shot father, so don’t try all that.” She prodded his chest with her truncheon to emphasize her resolve. “We’re putting on a big new show in a month in front of the king, and we ain’t got a female lead yet.”

“How’s that my problem? Get your own actress, or just do it yourself!” Chicle tried to push his way out, but the woman grabbed hold of his arm.

“Listen mister, I think we got off on the wrong foot, so to speak,” she said. “We both got trouble with the king, so”—

“That’s not MY problem!” Chicle yelled. “My dad’s the one who’s locked up and drafting plans for the king, not me! I’m finally living in the big city and he can’t breathe down my neck anymore and I don’t need a bunch of peasants meddling with my future!” He pushed the conspirators aside and fled in anger through the swinging doors, clenching and unclenching his fists to restrain himself.

“Well, that could have gone better,” said T.T. to nobody in particular. “Still, he did mention that his pop’s the one under guard. Maybe we can get through there.”

“You want me to get him?” Mr. Patissier asked. “If he talks to the king, our whole operation”—T.T. cut him off with a wave of her hand.

“He might not be with us, but I don’t think he’s such a damn fool that he’d talk to the king all about being in contact with a secret society. Nah, I reckon he’ll run right along to his suite again. Speaking of the suite, I ought to see what’s up with the main man.” She trotted out to the street, but before she left she turned back to shout at whoever was listening. “Be a dear and tell Starchy to meet me at the royal suite, would you? I’ve got to pick up my darling for this one.”

======================

Gumbald wasn’t being extremely productive. He kicked his legs up onto the desk and tilted back and forth on his chair. He was supposed to be working on a way to get 10% more tax money without causing a revolt, but the documents were near-incomprehensible. Instead of the body language and smooth talking that Gumbald was used to relying on during scams, the documents he was reviewing were full of graphs and statistics that he’d never used.

He was idly drawing a flowchart at the top of his notes to think over his next moves. Primary on his list of concerns was his niece’s absence. So far he didn’t think he had anything to gain by informing the king of a missing family member, but he underlined “Bonnibel” a few times for good measure. Next up he tallied what the family had at their disposal to gain power. As it turned out, not much. Gumbald himself was an amateur chemist as a result of concocting a variety of fake medicines to sell, but he had nothing to brew with unless the wallpaper happened to contain arsenic. He swiped a finger along the wall and sniffed cautiously. No toxins there; though he was cheap, even the King of Farmworld had safety standards.

He crossed out “poison” on the list of ways to get someone killed, and moved on to more of his ideas. He began to doze off slightly but shook himself awake angrily; it was about time for his usual midday nap, and he’d barely done anything of substance.

Gumbald heard a metallic rattle from outside the room, followed by a thunderous knocking on the door. Before he could reach the door to open it the wood began to distend behind an immense pressure, snapping open in a cloud of splinters. King Juliem’s gigantic bodyguard was framed in the doorway, with an elderly woman sitting gently in the crook of his elbow. A small, chubby man with a thick mustache peered around the corner from behind the two and shivered. Gumbald, fearful for his life, reached for a nearby poker, but before he could the woman began to speak.

“Now, now, don’t get all in a panic,” she said, “we’re just here to talk to y’all. We ain’t with the king, you can think of us as more of a welcoming committee.” She patted the bodyguard’s arm gently, and he lowered her to the floor. “We call ourselves the Veritas Brigade, and we got a bit in common with you.”

“Listen, peasant,” Gumbald said, putting up a haughty front, “if you want to get inroads with the king, why don’t you ask that fellow in the armor?” He gestured to the bodyguard, and continued, “I’m extremely busy right now, and only through my mercy do I forgive your destruction of the door. Now run off and plead your case to somebody else.”

“We ain’t here to beg, mister. We’re here to help you out, if you’ll let us.” T.T.’s voice took on a more persuasive edge, and she trotted up closer to Gumbald. “We here at the Veritas Brigade all got some issues with the king, and I heard you ain’t exactly here willingly.”

Gumbald scoffed at her words. “You expect me to believe your lot is against the king?” He gestured at the bodyguard, impassive as ever. “That man’s constantly at the king’s side. How am I to know you aren’t some petty palace faction trying to get the king’s ear by implicating me?”

T.T. rapped on the bodyguard’s breastplate, which caused him to shift in a great scraping of metal on metal. He raised one mailed arm, nearly the same size as T.T., and pulled off his helmet. Instead of the grizzled face of a mercenary that Gumbald had expected, the bodyguard’s face was that of a child. He smiled placidly at Gumbald, who stared back in confusion.

“My little Sweet Pea is with me for life,” said T.T., “and he’s not the only one by the king’s side who is. Now, your son didn’t want to help us, but I do hope you could convince him to come around. He can be a real darling when he needs to be, and if we could get him to help it’d be real successful.”

As T.T. talked, Gumbald saw in his mind a vision of a future, one with a good chance of failure and death. A future that could end in the most ignoble of deaths or the most glorious victory. For a man imprisoned like Gumbald, the only thing to lose was his life, but if he was successful he had everything to gain. The Veritas Brigade had finally given him the stage he needed to unleash his consuming ambition upon the world.

“Hey there feller, you still listening?” The fat man waved his hand over Gumbald’s eyes. “You gonna help us or what?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll do it,” said Gumbald. “You said you wanted my son to help? I’ll send him to you as soon as he returns from wherever he’s snuck off to. I heard him clattering around on the gutter around and hour ago, he’s probably being entertained by some actress.”

T.T. grinned at him triumphantly. “You can meet all the members later, but I’m sure they’ll be real glad that you’re helping us.” She stuck out her hand, and Gumbald vigorously shook it, as well as that of Starchy. He turned to Sweet Pea for a handshake, but the boy just stared placidly onward. Evidently the muscle of the Veritas Brigade wasn’t one of the major players.

==========================

After the brigadiers left and the guards outside filed back around the door, Gumbald cleared off the tacky desk and continued to work on his brainstorming. For a time, the only noises were the scratching of his pen and the occasional cough and rattle of armor from the overdressed guards outside. After about 20 minutes, a movement from outside the window caught his eye, and Gumbald jerked his head up. Despite being the height of summer, there was a distinct flurry of snow coming down outside the house.

As Gumbald sat staring in confusion at the growing snowfall, he heard shouting from the market and the guards outside his door running towards it. Seizing the opportunity to explore, he slunk out of the door and dashed off towards the market after them.
The closer he got to the market, the thicker the gusts of snow became. Dark, swelling clouds spiraled in the sky above Destiny City and pelted Gumbald with freezing sleet. He rounded the corner into the market to see a crowd of royal guards surrounding the palace, spears aimed upwards. On the crest of the roof something between a bird and a gargoyle was hunched over, staring down at the crowd of market shoppers below.

“ANYONE HAVE A BION CONNECTOR?” shrieked the Ice Prince above the ferocious winds. A pale, scientific-looking man tried to shuffle quietly out of the crowd with something hidden beneath an overcoat, but the prince turned a baleful blue eye on to him. “YOU! WHAT DO YOU HAVE THERE?” The man began to flee and the prince uncurled from his folded position on the roof, much to the alarm of the guards thronging the palace steps.

Gumbald was shocked to see the prince swoop into the air, trailing his hair in the wind like wings. Though he had often imitated magic in order to sell things, Gumbald had never imagined that such things as human-powered flight could exist. A few valiant guards hurled their spears towards the prince, but he dodged them gracefully before diving towards the fleeing man with the bion connector. Gumbald craved more information on the strange creature. He curled into his cloak in order to avoid the guards’ notice and joined the crowd rushing after the prince.

The prince had cornered Kenneth in a small alley and was busy trying to pry the crucial connector out of his hands. Very few of those who initially ran after the prince were still there; the narrow, complicated streets and the furious ice shearing down from the sky made pursuit near-impossible. Not even Gumbald’s hood had saved him from the vicious snow, and his carefully clipped facial hair was stiff with ice. Now that he was closer, he could properly view the prince. Not as animalistic as Gumbald had expected, the prince looked very human in the face. However, Gumbald’s focus was drawn less to the prince’s face and more on his expensive-looking crown.

“Hah!” the Ice Prince shouted in triumph. He had wrested the bion connector from Kenneth’s hands, and pulled out a grimy scrap of paper. “Got all of it!” Kicking his heels just above Kenneth’s grasp, he smiled widely as the snow eased up. “Ah, the final piece! Glutinous sand, bion connector, cubic diamond, I bet she’ll be so surprised that I actually got everything!” His hair quickly surged out further from beneath his hood and formed two massive, beating wings.

“Wait,” Gumbald called before the prince could fly away, “hold on before you take off! How are you able to fly like that?”

“What?” The prince turned in confusion until he spotted Gumbald. “Hah, that’s easy, it’s all because of—“

His sharp eyes lit up as he fully took in Gumbald’s features. “Heyyy, have I seen you somewhere before?” He flapped across the alley and briskly prodded at Gumbald’s face. “Hah hah hah! Yes, I know, I know! You’re related to Miss Bonnibel, aren’t you? You don’t look half as pink as her, but that’s definitely the same face!”

“How do you know my niece?” Gumbald asked. “Did you consume her to power your own abilities?” He posed the last question in a hopeful tone, but the prince was oblivious as usual to the insult.

“Oh, I can see the family humor in you!” he said, grinning maniacally. “She thought I wanted to eat her too! I was going to add her as part of my kingdom, but, ah…I got sidetracked, I guess. Besides, she’s been very helpful even without being frozen! She gave me this nice list of things to get and told me to go off to the forest to get them. Doesn’t she know that the city has everything I could need? Just a few ice-lightning strikes and you’re good to go!”

Gumbald carefully pried the prince’s hand off of his shoulder. His niece had always been a strange, reclusive girl, and it wasn’t his problem if she’d run off with the prince. However, the prince’s full attention being turned to him was more intimidating than he’d thought, and he very much wanted to be somewhere else.

He opened his mouth to make an excuse to leave, but before he could, Kenneth charged across the alley in a last-ditch attempt to seize back his bion connector. The prince’s forelocks perked up, and he spun lithely in midair to face the oncoming attacker. His hands lit up with a surge of frigid energy, and Kenneth’s body was enveloped by sweeping winds. When the flurries cleared, Kenneth was encased almost completely with ice, only his arm sticking out. Gumbald tried to shuffle away quietly while the prince was still focused on his assailant, but the prince turned his head back to him.

Gumbald, stock still, thought quickly for some way out of the situation. “Well, ha ha, it’s been great meeting you,” he said, talking slowly to avoid alarming the prince, “but you’d better get back to Bonnie with that bion connector before someone else takes it! Ha ha!” He smiled uncomfortably at the prince, who after an unsettling pause smiled back at Gumbald.

“Indeed, you would be an excellent subject,” crowed the prince. “I shall tell Miss Bonnibel about meeting you!” He raised his voice to a shriek. “GOODBYE, DESTINY CITY!” The equipment at his belt clattered as he soared into the sky and towards the mountain.

Gumbald stood perfectly still, smiling, until he was sure he couldn’t see the prince anymore. He then fled in a dead sprint back towards his house arrest and away from Kenneth, who was slowly melting in the midday sun.

Chapter Text

The immense glacial walls of the Ice Prince’s castle creaked and groaned as Bonnie delved into its depths. Her exploration of the upper levels and interrogation of the prince had both been fruitless, so the cellar was her last chance to find anything of interest. The walls of the lower levels were rough-hewn and opaque, nothing like the glossy spectacle of the parapets. Only the faintest hint of green-tinted light from above illuminated each step.

Bonnie shivered, and not just from the cold. The prince’s talk about freezing the world had been creepy enough in the light of the infirmary, but it was terrifyingly real down in the basement. If he could create such immense glaciers with his powers, she had no doubt that he could encase Destiny City itself should he want to.

Destiny City. She wondered, with a hint of guilt, how the prince’s search was going for her materials. It wasn’t that she liked tricking him, but between the crown and the ice powers he was way too unpredictable to keep around. Even with all that power, she couldn’t imagine that he’d actually make any progress gathering the materials. Bonnie had repelled him with a tennis ball launcher, and she was hardly as intimidating as a squad of armed guards.

Then again, she was hardly making progress either. The prince’s palace had quite a few lower floors, but none of any interest. Most were full of ice statues or various kinds of frozen food, likely looted from the surrounding farms. Thankfully she didn’t notice any human flesh among the food stores, so she could put her worry that the prince was planning on eating her to rest.

Bonnie was broken out of her thoughts when she noticed something unusual. For the last dozen or so floors, she had been guided by the light filtered through the ice, a kind of blue-green coming from above. Looking down, however, she saw a new light shining weakly from below her, deep within the lower chambers. It was a sickly green, nothing like the soothing blues that filled the prince’s palace. She hobbled faster down the stairs, the pain in her feet almost completely forgotten by the excitement of finally finding something of importance.

The narrow stairway she was descending opened into a large antechamber, easily twice the size of the infirmary far above. It was subdivided by a large ice sheet with a single entranceway, the apparent source of the mysterious green light. From her position at the stairwell, she couldn’t see into the other room, only that the light was faintly flickering from somewhere within it. Curiously, the antechamber she was in looked nothing like the smooth and immense ice blocks she had passed on her way down. It was instead covered in ferocious clusters of icicles, many of which were grouped around the other entranceway.

Bonnie’s initial interest faded away as she ran through the possibilities of just what could be lurking in the Ice Prince’s basement. Gumbald had told her about machines that could send signals from far away—perhaps the true monster was down here, beaming thoughts of destruction into the crown? Or maybe the prince truly was a cannibal, and this was where all the corpses of his victims were kept? Her tennis ball gun was still lying on the infirmary bed far above her, but for safety’s sake Bonnie snapped an icicle off from the stairwell, wielding it like a sword. Thus armed, she leapt around the corner and faced the unknown terror of the prince’s basement.

~~~

The Ice Prince delicately landed in the entrance hall, careful not to crush the components he had just gathered. Of course, he could just gather more, but it wouldn’t do to terrify his future subjects too much. They would have plenty of time later to pay him more tribute. Besides, he wanted to impress Bonnibel if he possibly could: good impressions were important for a potential apprentice.

He floated along the breeze to the infirmary, grinning toothily at his success. Despite his confidence, he felt a hint of uncertainty when he thought about what she would do with the materials. She had promised to “get the crown to leave him alone,” but wasn’t the crown his friend? It told him how to stop the skeleton monster and the bomb, after all. The prince pushed his worries down. Bonnibel seemed trustworthy, after all. Surely the three of them could all be friends in his new kingdom, and maybe she could even hear the crown with him.

“Hello, Gunt—er, Miss Bonnibel!” The prince made sure to call out well before he reached the door, as he didn’t want to get hit by a tennis ball again. “I’ve found all those materials you asked for, and you’ll never guesswho I ran into along the way!” There was no reply, so he tried yelling the same thing, but louder. When there was still no response, he hazarded a peek around the door only to be met with an empty bed and discarded tennis ball gun.

“Miss Bonnibel?” The prince called down one labyrinthine corridor after another. “W-where are you? Are you lost?” His teeth began to chatter. “I got those parts for you, like you asked for!” His forelocks rippled uncontrollably, twisting around themselves. “D-don’t tell me you’ve left already?” His eyes turned to the stairs leading down to the lower floors. Of course, he always avoided the place, but if there were a visitor, who didn’t know what was down there…

He walked unsteadily over to the stairs. The crown, already upset that the prince wasted so much time on Bonnibel’s materials, raised its normal whispers to furious screams at the thought of descending to the basement. He wavered. It wasn’t as if he wanted to go down there any more than the crown did. Surely Bonnibel could handle herself.

 There was a sound then, at the edge of hearing. He barely heard it, coming deep from below his feet as it was. But it was, unmistakably, the sound of Bonnibel screaming. The Ice Prince cast the crown’s advice aside completely and dove down the staircase, screeching in fury. It could complain later, but guests took priority.

~~~

For a while, Bonnie could not even comprehend what she saw. An immense, hulking form took up much of the antechamber, backlit by that sickening green light. The source of the light was a pit of roiling green liquid, suffused with what looked like skulls screaming out in agony. Her eyes quickly adjusted to view the immense figure itself, and she wished they hadn’t.

It was vaguely humanoid, with two arms and two legs, but that was where any similarities ended. Its legs were suffused with the green liquid, while both its hands and feet ended in ferocious claws. Its chest was covered with sallow fur, skin stretched thin across gigantic bones. Worst of all was the head, a grotesque mix between that of a human and that of a goat. Two gigantic ram horns burst out from its skull, the bone of which was exposed to the elements. Skin flapped off its rotting gums and its eyes glinted with malice.

Bonnie, overcome with terror, could not hold back a scream. Everything about the creature before her was wrong, only made worse by the sickening lighting. Without thinking, she threw the hefty icicle directly at the creature’s head. Only when it shattered into pieces well before it reached the head did she realize what she had missed about the creature: it was encased within an immense block of ice.

The liquid, too, was upon closer inspection trapped in the ice. It seemed to have been caught in the process of exploding outwards, with tendrils trapped across the room. Though the liquid itself was still moving, it seemed to be making little progress in melting its way out of the ice. There were a few fragments of what looked like a shattered metal pot lying around in the liquid pit, but Bonnie couldn’t guess as to their purpose.

She didn’t have much time to guess. A furious wail sounded from outside, and before she was even done turning her head the Ice Prince blew into the room. Even in the freezing depths of the basement, his entrance made the room noticeably colder. Ice wreathed him in an immense aura, crackling around his hands and head.

“GET AWAY FROM HER, SCUM!” the prince screamed. “You have no place in this world!” He launched a volley of icicles into the ice wall, thankfully well over Bonnie’s head. Contrary to his usual blithe manner, the prince looked utterly focused on attacking the creature, eyes narrowed in fury. She dropped to her knees and scurried back towards the door while the prince continued wildly launching missiles into the ice. As soon as she moved, however, he broke off the attack and turned to her.

“What happened, Miss Bonnibel?” he asked, teeth chattering. “Are you safe? Did the skeleton monster try to get out?”

“N-no, sorry,” she said, “It’s been frozen the whole time I was down here, it just…freaked me out, that’s all.” She hesitated for a second but decided to ask the obvious question anyway. “What is it? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Ah, that’s easy!” The prince beamed and the ice aura melted away from him. “It’s a skeleton monster! It came from…ah…I don’t remember where! But the crown really hates it, so it’s definitely bad.”

“You don’t know where it came from at all?” Bonnie scrunched her brows. “Not even how it got here?”

“Well, I can’t remember much. My mind’s real fuzzy from around then, but I remember the crown! It yelled at me to freeze the skeleton, so I went and did it. But as to how it got there…” The prince shrugged.

“The skeleton doesn’t talk to you or anything, does it?” Despite his display of hostility towards the thing, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure. “Doesn’t tell you to…eat people or anything?”

“Hah, of course not!” The prince smiled at her, thankfully not showing any teeth. “I don’t even like looking at the thing, there’s no way I’d talk to it!” He winced. “Er, if you would, shall we get out of here? The crown’s getting real upset.”

Well, a frozen monster in the basement wasn’t the strangest thing about him, but Bonnie wasn’t thrilled to have another mystery swirling around the prince. She raised herself to her feet and winced—now that the adrenaline had worn off, the pain in her feet was even worse. Before she could hobble more than a few steps, however, the prince hoisted her up into the air.

“Oof! Hey, what are you doing?” Bonnie noticed as he lifted her that, despite his thin frame and scrawny arm, the prince was surprisingly strong. If he felt any difficulty in carrying her, he didn’t let it show.

“Ah, sorry! I should have asked!” The prince gave an apologetic grin. “But there are so many stairs, and your feet are still hurt. I can just fly you back to the upper levels, no problem.”

“Fine, if you insist.” Bonnie pretended to be reluctant, but it definitely beat walking back up however many flights of stairs. The prince languidly floated towards the door and she relaxed into his arms. Despite his frigid and angular appearance, he was actually very comfortable. The cloak he had given her protected from the worst of the chill, and before Bonnie could even think of how little sleep she had gotten the night before, she was asleep.

~~~

The crown continued to chatter at the Ice Prince as he flew Bonnibel back to the infirmary, but he ignored it. It was hardly being helpful anyway, just yammering on about “finishing the job” and freezing things as usual. He, on the other hand, was more concerned with Bonnibel. While he felt right at home in it, the cold couldn’t be good for her injury. Though he was still reluctant to exact too much tribute from the people, surely some supplies like a sweater or wool socks would hardly be missed.

Supplies! The prince had almost forgotten the various components shoved into his backpack. He picked up the pace slightly and wafted into the infirmary with Bonnibel. She was surely tired of the infirmary, but it was nevertheless the only place in the palace with a cloth bed, so he laid her back down as delicately as he could without waking her. Not bothering to sort through all the various supplies, the prince simply set his backpack down on the side table and left.

He decided that it was time to make a new wing of the castle, one more suited for his new guest. Though he had no idea what kind of setup her technology needed, you couldn’t go wrong with a big, empty chamber. After that, he could always slip over to Destiny City and steal some warm clothes for Bonnibel when he got the time. At the thought of Destiny City, he realized with a start that he had completely forgotten about his meeting with her uncle. Well, he could always just tell her later. Maybe even drop in on him to get some familiar clothes for her. The Ice Prince grinned. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan.

Chapter Text

Bonnie awoke gradually. The cold made her sluggish, and for a few minutes she tried to pull the sheets over her head and keep sleeping. Her procrastination ended when her stomach growled, a painful reminder that she hadn’t eaten anything for far too long. She uncurled and winced—the bedsheets were soft, but they couldn’t alleviate the ache of sleeping on a solid ice mattress. Though the cold wasn’t as bad as her first day in the palace, she still swaddled herself in the cloak and shawl before getting out of bed. She noticed the prince’s backpack left on the bedside table and frowned. Did he leave that for me? Why?

The bion connector hanging from a pocket caught Bonnie’s attention and she gasped. Surely the prince hadn’t gathered all the materials in a single day.Most of them were goods that she had never even seen before, much less handled. Had he really invaded Destiny City on her account? She didn’t know for sure that he took them by force, but considering he had no apparent valuables to trade besides the crown, it seemed most likely. No matter how much she thought, she couldn’t reconcile that with the timid prince who had crawled up a pillar because he thought she was angry. Then again, she had seen first-hand his wrath against the skeleton. Was she seriously more intimidating than that monstrous thing? Doubtful.

Bonnie shook her head. Best not to waste too much thought on it without any data. Unravelling the prince’s contradictions was part of what she had wanted the materials for, after all. It wasn’t as if she wanted to get closer to that ice-obsessed creature, but since she was stuck with him, she may as well understand him. She hoisted the backpack over her shoulder and ventured out to find the prince.

As soon as Bonnie poked her head out into the corridor, she could hear the sounds of ice scraping on ice. Though she didn’t entirely remember the confusing layout of the palace, one of the doors seemed to be new since the day before. She gingerly walked over to it and looked inside. The room beyond was large and circular, completely smooth besides a vaguely face-shaped outcrop of ice on the far wall. Hovering next to said outcrop was the prince, holding an ice chisel and sizing up his handiwork. The ice beneath Bonnie’s feet squeaked, alerting the prince.

“Good morning, Miss Bonnibel!” he crowed, sculpting forgotten. He floated over to her, legs dangling above his head. “Have you had a restful sleep?”

“It was fine, thank you,” she said, though the ache in her neck told a different story. “What are you building in here?”

“Oh, well, the infirmary is a bit small, don’t you think? It’s hardly worthy of the Ice Prince’s royal guests!” The prince spread his arms wide. “So, I built this guest room for you! I know it’s a little empty, but you can fill it up with all those machines you wanted.”

“What?!” Bonnie could barely believe it at first. “You seriously built all of this for me? How long did it take you?” She took a few hesitant steps to the center of the room, careful not to slip on the still-slick ice floor. The domed ceiling was thin to the point of near-transparency, and the sunlight beaming through it illuminated the entire room. “It’s…amazing.”

“You really think so?” The prince’s sharp teeth flashed in the widest smile she had seen on him. “Oh, it was nothing special, just about eight hours or so. Will it suffice for your work?”

“Eight hours?” She stared at him. “Have you not bothered to sleep the whole time I was resting?”

“Well, ah…” The prince tapped his fingers together nervously, a rather strange sight when one of them was a large claw. “I don’t really need to sleep very much anyway, so it’s not a big deal or anything! And besides, I’m quite curious as to what you’ll do with all this stuff. This isa suitable space for it, right?”

“Yes, it looks good. And, uh, thank you.” Bonnie had never actually had a laboratory of her own before, so an icy broom closet would have sufficed for her standards. Needless to say, the prince going to such lengths for her was more than she could have imagined. “Could you just add some seats and tables in?” A stab of hunger reminded her why she got out of bed in the first place. “And I don’t mean to impose on your work, but could you unfreeze some of the food downstairs for me? I haven’t had anything to eat in a while.”

“Oh, of course!” Ice coalesced in his hands and shot out across the room, forming a rough approximation of a table, a few stools, and a bench. Not the prettiest furniture she’d even seen, but it wasn’t like she could create furniture with her mind. The prince looked abashed and slowly floated down until his face was on the same level as hers. “You humans do eat often, don’t you! I don’t have to worry about that so much, but…seriously, what a drag.”

“You don’t have to worry about it?” Bonnie asked. “What do you mean, you don’t eat?” She could have sworn she saw some preserved food in the lower levels. What was he doing with it, then?

“No no, it’s my, ah…” He trailed off. “Mechanism? Metatarsal? Oh, what’s the word?” His brows furrowed. “You know, like how fast your body is?”

“Metabolism?” Medicine wasn’t her expertise, but she remembered reading something like that in one of Gumbald’s old medical textbooks.

“Haha, yeah, that’s it!” The prince clapped in glee. “Mine’s real slow because of the crown, so I barely ever have to eat! I can spend more time on the things that matter, like, ah, building more wings of the palace.”

“Oh! So that’s the reason you’re so cold, because of the crown? Hold on, one second!” Bonnie scrambled for the note-taking paper and charcoal she had folded in her clothes. Beneath her previous outmoded theories, she wrote “THEORY: crown altering prince’s body?” Of course, that brought up more questions than before. To what extent was it altering him, and for what purpose? If she could just get into its circuitry, maybe she’d finally get closer to figuring the prince out. But she couldn’t only limit her inquiries to the crown itself. Now for the awkward part. She turned back to the prince and stretched out a hand. “May I, um, gather some data on you?”

“Sure! That was what you wanted the materials for, right Miss Bonni—” He was abruptly silenced as Bonnie gently placed her hand against his cheek. A faint pallor returned to his face—far too pallid to be a blush, but warmer than his usual blue. His watery eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at her. “W-whoa! Miss Bonnibel?”

“I’m just taking some temperature measurements,” she said, as much to herself as to the prince. “I’d like to get a baseline so I can understand how different you are from a regular human.” She moved the back of her hand to his forehead, nudging his forelocks out of the way. He was colder against her skin than she expected. Evidently the layers of clothes between them when he carried her the night before had helped quite a bit. “About thirty degrees Celsius,” she said, and shivered. “Any regular human would be long dead by now.”

“Well, that’s the crown for you!” the prince exclaimed. “Despite the ice and snow all around me, I feel perfectly fine!” Bonnie sighed. He looked far too flustered at her examination to be “perfectly fine,” so she lifted her hand from his forehead. It made sense: if she spent Glob knows how long living in an isolated mountain, she would probably be pretty touch-starved too. She’d spare him any more discomfort.

“That’s all I needed to check, thank you. I’ll, ah, set up the machine now so I can check out the crown.” She buried her face in the backpack and sorted through all the components. The prince floated aimlessly for a few moments, and Bonnie cringed. Obviously she’d made him more uncomfortable than she thought.

“T-the food!” The prince was the one to break the silence. “I’ll go get that for you! From downstairs! And unfreeze it! Ok be back soon!” He flapped quickly out of the room, muttering something at the crown. She sighed. Nothing she could do now besides put it behind her. And enjoy her new workspace, of course.

~~~

“What? Flying?” King Juliem leaned forward on his throne. “A real-life flying man in our very own Destiny City?” The throne room was packed full of people observing from anywhere they could fit. Throngs of nobles muttered from the gallery behind the throne, some leaning from the balconies above. Even a number of peasants had made their way into the peasant gallery below the dais, gazing enraptured at the king.

“Yes, milord,” Gumbald said with as much deference as he could manage, “an entire platoon of guards saw him too. I’m sure Mr. Kenneth will be able to attest to it as well, once he finally thaws out. I’m not entirely sure the flying man is a human though, since—”

“Fascinating!” The king’s hands fluttered to his mouth. “Did he express any interest in joining the royal court? A flying man would truly be fitting for the new heights which Destiny City will reach under our rule!” He shot a wink at the peasant gallery and Gumbald internally groaned. Showmanship was crucial for any good scam, but Juliem’s pandering was just embarrassing. The people didn’t seem to care, however, as they burst out in a round of cheers. After they had finally quieted down, Gumbald continued.

“No sir, he did not. He appeared to be gathering materials for some purpose, but he would not elaborate upon their use, or upon anything about himself.” Best not to bring up the prince’s comments on Bonnibel. Even though he didn’t particularly care how she was doing, if the king knew that one of Gumbald’s family had escaped there would be hell to pay.

“What a fantastic fellow!” King Juliem leaned forward, hands resting on his knees. “Tell us more, Sir Gumbald! Was this flying man utterly given over to savagery, or is his heart still open to the light of our civilization?”

Gumbald had no idea how to answer the king, so he changed the subject to the most inflammatory detail about the prince. “Well, your majesty, he was wearing a crown and called me a ‘subject,’ so I fear that he may not accept your Glob-given right to kingship.” An outraged shout rose from the peasant gallery, and even some of the nobles looked concerned.

“Whaaat?” The king turned to his steward—Tomato? Tornado? Gumbald didn’t get along with him well enough to bother remembering his name—and whispered hurriedly to him. The two chattered back and forth for a few seconds, too quiet for Gumbald to hear, and finally turned forward again.

“Your excellency!” the steward cried, in a rather unconvincing display of emotion. “How shall we deal with this pretender, this viper who poisons the very roots of your enlightened rule? Please! Guide your people!”

“It is our great displeasure,” proclaimed the King of Farmworld, “to declare this aerial pretender to the throne an enemy of the state. All citizens are urged to report any sightings of flying people to the appropriate authorities and to not aid any such criminals.” The royal guards, scattered throughout the audience, quickly executed a salute. Gumbald couldn’t make out any of the Veritas Brigadiers in the crowd, but he had no doubt they were listening in.

“My liege!” Gumbald decided a show of loyalty was in order. Perhaps the king’s pandering tactics had already rubbed off on him. “Please allow me to bring this ruffian to justice! With your permission, I shall outfit a militia and track him down for you!” And maybe make a deal with him along the way. Gumbald hardly trusted the iceman as an ally, but in terms of power there was no easier way to seize the reins.

The king grinned, but the steward—Toronto, that was it—tugged on his sleeve and whispered something into his ear. He nodded and swiveled back to face Gumbald. “Your loyalty is noted and duly appreciated, Sir Gumbald. However! We cannot simply let you walk into the lair of the beast without aid. What would become of your genteel family should the pretender resort to violence against you? Nay, we could not live with ourselves if we let you go alone!” The king threw his arms out wide. “Lord Peacemaster!”

“Yes, your excellency?” A man stepped out from amidst the gallery of nobles, trying far too hard to look mysterious and intimidating. His arms and left eye were completely covered in bandages, and an immense floppy hat covered most of his other eye. The effect was rather ruined by the pacifier hanging from his scarf, but Gumbald gave him points for trying.

“As our resident slayer of monstrous beasts, will you accept our call to defend the kingdom from this aerial threat alongside Sir Gumbald?” The king raised his arms higher to a crescendo of cheers.

“Of course, your excellency!” Peacemaster executed a surprisingly stiff bow despite his restrictive outfit, and the crowd went wild with glee. Gumbald followed suit and even tried his best to smile at the crowd, but inside he couldn’t help but seethe. Partnership with a complete fop handpicked by the king, one who would no doubt claim all the glory for himself, was hardly ideal. With Peacemaster looking over his shoulder, he might not be able to even speak with the prince, much less convince him to overthrow the king. Ah well. Gumbald could wait. He was sure there would be plenty of opportunities for advancement.

~~~

“Here’s some food, Miss Bonnibel!” The Ice Prince floated through the door to her lab, burdened by a cloth sack swung over his shoulder. “Sorry it took so long, but the meat was freeze-burned and everything else in the fridge was old anyway, so I had to go out and get more, but then I realized I didn’t even know if you liked meat, so I went to go get some berries, and then a squirrel—” He broke off as he looked around the room. “Wow! You work fast! What is all this stuff?”

Pristine and smooth when he left, the room looked completely mechanized. Wires drooped from the ceiling, held together with a precarious assemblage of twist-ties. The center of the room was dominated by a strange sort of blue panel, darker than the ice around it and facing upwards. About half the wires ran between the panel and a glassy cage lying on the table, while the rest connected the cage to a box inset by a glass square. Bonnibel sat amongst the clutter, a pair of goggles atop her head and a complex glass bulb in her hand. As he entered, she screwed it into the side of the glass-faced box and turned to him.

“Hey, great timing. I’ve been tweaking the settings on the vacuum tube, but this should work fine.” She beckoned him over to the bench. “If you could just sit over here, we can get started with the crown.”

“Miss Bonnibel, the food?” He jostled the bag around. “It won’t do for you to, er, waste away. Even on account of someone like me.”

“Ughhh,” she groaned, “yeah, I suppose I should.” She met his gaze and smiled brightly. “But after I’m done, I want to investigate that crown.” Her hands jittered in what the prince guessed was excitement, although the crown furiously whispered that she was trembling with hatred. “I’m real excited to see this tech in action.”

The prince floated over to the bench and dumped the food out. It was slim pickings for self-proclaimed royalty: a small basket full of blueberries, a leg of venison that barely counted as rare, some fish, and a purloined pasty from an unfortunate peasant’s windowsill. Before he could even apologize for the paltry meal, however, Bonnibel grabbed the blueberries and began popping handfuls into her mouth. He followed her lead and immediately snatched up the venison. Pointed teeth might be off-putting to his subjects, but they were certainly appreciated when he had to tear into his food.

He was several bites in when he noticed that Bonnibel had stopped eating. Head tilted to the side, she was simply observing him. “Yes?” he asked. “Is something wrong with the food, Miss Bonnibel?”

“No,” she said, eyes darting away, “I was just thinking. About, uh, mechanical stuff. It’s boring, you wouldn’t want to know.”

“Of course I would!” Truthfully, he had no ability for science, but it would probably put her at ease to ramble about it. “Any great monarch must keep themselves up to date with the technological developments of their time! And there’s no one I trust to inform me on such things more than you!” Nobody else ever interacted with him enough to inform him on anything, but the prince didn’t need to mention that.

She giggled. It was quiet, and she raised a hand to hide it, but it was the first time during he stay that he'd heard her laugh. “You’re a strange guy, Ice Prince.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” She finished with the blueberries and took a bite out of the pasty.

The prince frowned, completely lost. Considering how others felt about him was…unfamiliar. Sure, there was the concern of keeping the peasantry calm, but that was easily solved with a few bolts of ice. Bonnibel was a completely different matter. She’d already spent two nights in the palace, but he felt no closer to understanding her than when he found her frozen on the mountainside. The prince had never felt any desire to understand the people outside his palace, and for their part they hadn’t tried to understand him. And he had been fine with that. So why should he care about what she thought of him? The crown had always said that a master’s duty was to be harsh and domineering to their apprentice, not to worry over their feelings. But if he didn’t want her to be his apprentice, then what was she to him?

He was broken from his worries when Bonnibel stretched her arms out and yawned, pasty completely devoured. “If you’re done eating, we can start the crown analysis,” she said. “That is, if you’re still up for it?”

“Sure!” He smiled wide. Always best to give an impression of good humor. “What is it you require of me?”

“Not much.” She pointed to the glass cage on the table. “Just put the crown in there and sit on the bench. I’ll do the rest from there.” She murmured something else, but the prince couldn’t hear her. His ears were instead ringing with the horrified screams emanating from the crown. Its frenzied words were difficult to understand, and the prince could only make out impressions. Distrust of Bonnibel, demands not to be separated, pleas to freeze her along with everyone else. He’d become used to the constant haranguing of the crown, but never to such intensity. Spots flickered in front of his vision. He closed his eyes to withstand the pain and was met with something even worse.

Bonnibel stood tall, a strange diadem placed atop her head. Behind her, rivers flowed with a dark, bubbling liquid, and the tramp of soldiers’ boots echoed from all around. In one hand she held the crown, while the other continuously emitted the liquid that fed the rivers. The prince looked down at his own body to find it grey and emaciated, unable to even reach out for the crown. Despite his whispered protests, she laughed at him. Her hand crushed the crown into scraps and tossed the gems into the river. The prince collapsed to the ground, eyes turned up to the sky, and saw an immense ball of green fire. Two tongues of fire lashed from its surface, and the sound of boots was joined by screams of anguish. He cried out, but…

“Are you okay?” Warm hands gripped his face. “Ice Prince, can you hear me?” He opened his eyes tentatively. He was still in the laboratory. There were no screams, just the gentle creaking of the palace walls. At some point he had fallen, and the crown lay on the icy floor beneath him. Bonnibel leaned over him—the real Bonnibel, goggles pushed up against her hair instead of the diadem he had seen. Her face softened when she noticed that he was awake, but she remained over him. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Let go of me, please!” he cried. The crown hissed at him to freeze her already, but the prince instead fluttered out from under her into the air. He floated for a moment, gasping for breath.

“Did I do something to hurt you?” Bonnibel asked. “I didn’t mean to!” He scrutinized her. She certainly didn’t resemble the formidable figure he had just seen, but what could that vision have been other than a warning? Frost slowly coated his hands, but he held off on freezing her. Despite the crown’s exhortations, despite the ominous vision, he still wanted to trust Bonnibel. He decided it couldn’t hurt to tell her what had happened. Even if it turned out she truly was hiding evil intentions, he always had the ice and snow to protect him.

“I don’t know,” he said, hesitantly, “I don’t think, ah, you hurt me. There was a headache, and the crown was screaming, and then I saw you, but you weren’t you, and you were destroying the crown, and there was fire and, and, and!” Lungs empty, the prince was forced to stop talking. He winced. Now she would be as frightened as he was, or if she really was evil, she’d detect his weakness and kill him. Either way he’d failed.

“Don’t worry.” He looked down to find his fears unrealized. Bonnibel was still there, worried but not panicking. She couldn’t reach his hand, because he was floating, but on tiptoe she patted his ankle reassuringly. “The crown’s fine, see? This machine won’t hurt it, either. There wasn’t any fire, you just yelled and when I turned around you were on the ground.” Her face was twisted in what the prince was sure was concern, though he could hear the crown arguing that it was anger in the back of his mind. He slowly lowered back down to the ground, though his hair stayed tense and ready to flap away. “Now, if you don’t want me to examine the crown I understand, but I think it’s more important than ever.”

“Eh? More important? What do you mean, Miss Bonnibel?”

“I, uh.” She wrung her hands. “I know you trust it, so I understand that this may be hard for you to hear. But I’m pretty sure that whatever happened to you is because of the crown.”

“What? That’s ridiculous!” The prince’s mind raced for a reason that Bonnibel’s theory could be wrong. “Sure, it was yelling at me, but that’s nothing new! It’s never shown me visions before!”

“Why else would all that have happened right after I suggested separating you from it?” she shot back. “If it can speak with you inside your mind, why couldn’t it beam you images as well?”

“Because, ah, because…” He paused. “It’s always helping me! With the ice and snow, and the skeleton monster and all! It’s my friend! It wouldn’t hurt me!”

“And I just want to check it to make sure it isn’t hurting you! If it really is your friend, it should understand!” She adopted a conciliatory tone. “Look, you can stay here the whole time I’m working on it, watch my process. If I do anything you think is going to hurt the crown, you can…you can freeze me solid.” The crown hissed and spat, but it was out of any conclusive arguments. He bent down and picked it back up.

“Alright, Miss Bonnibel. I wish to trust you.” The prince held out the crown. “Quickly, before anything happens again.”

“Thank you, Ice Prince.” She smiled and took it from his hands. “Now let’s figure out this crown.” Her mouth opened, as if to say something else, but she instead turned around and place the crown within the cage. The prince could still hear its displeased grumbles, but the cage’s walls thankfully muffled them. While Bonnibel went over to the box and began pressing various buttons, he hopped up on to the bench and waited. And waited.

“It’s ready.” The prince jerked back to attention. Nothing particularly dramatic had happened—the prince had hoped for a sudden bolt of lightning or maybe an explosion—but Bonnibel’s voice was reverent. He floated over to her and peered down at the box. She had hooked some sort of rectangular device covered in squares to it, but he instead focused on the box itself. Its black surface had flickered to life, and now displayed a few words in a strange, square alphabet.

MO CO. SOFTWARE DEPT. (ALL RIGHTS RESERVED)

WELCOME TO MO CO. INTERACTIVE CIRCUITRY VISUALIZER

SUBJECT DETECTED

BEGIN ICV PROCESS? Y/N

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