They say when life gives you apples, you should eat them. But sometimes life doesn't give, it takes away without thought or remorse. It pries all that is precious from beneath you and tosses it away. Sometimes, life is cruel.

This is a lesson Marceline has only just learned. Not that it was her fault in the first place. No - she'd only done what she'd done in the interest of her people. There was no justification for this punishment... but there was also nothing that could be done about it. She was stuck here with no way home. Even if she had the chance, how would she regain the favor of her people, of her king? Did she even want to?

After all, the senile oaf she'd once called King had become weak. He had been convinced that age had made him wise and cooled his temper. That acting out of spite and malice for those who wronged him wasn't the answer. He disagreed that marching his army into foreign territory and claiming it for his would serve to benefit them. 'It would only put lives at risk unnecessarily,' he'd argued, 'we won't sacrifice our men like that.'

But Marceline saw this for what it really was: weakness. He might have thought restraint made him strong, but strength came in numbers and theirs were dwindling by the month. Though their borders never shrank, their herd did; raiders in their land became commonplace, the thieves often coming in the night and grabbing what they wanted - women, children, resources, it was all free for the taking under the King's poor leadership.

Eventually, the precious few alliances they'd so carefully maintained had dissolved into dust once their foreign friends realized her King could no longer be counted on in times of need. He could barely fend off intruders in his own land; how could he possibly help anyone else? A mighty army to his name and soldiers willing to lay down their lives, but what good was brute strength when it was never utilized? To waste such potential and power made the former queen feel downright sick.

The King had become feeble, a shadow of the glorious leader he used to be. Where others had once looked to him as an example of greatness, now he was just another coward with a fancy title. And that made Marceline a queen in name only; because what good was being queen if she wasn't even allowed to exercise the power that came with the position? There was nothing more humiliating.

And so really, after all of that, it wasn't her fault that her loyalty had strayed. She was a woman with needs, and a wandering gaze couldn't be helped when those needs weren't being met at home. The handsome interloper hadn't had much in the way of titles or land, but he was attentive. Even better, his strings were easily pulled. A coquettish flick of her creamy locks or a kiss against his cheek and he was as soft as clay. She'd nearly had the fool convinced that he was strong enough to overthrow the old King if he wanted to; to take what was left of this crumbling empire and turn it into something great again. How glorious they would be together, she'd told him, you and me on top of the world.

And if it hadn't been for that little snitch of a servant, she'd have gotten away with it. She would still be at home, with a new King by her side and the world at her hooves. But no, instead she was in this sorry excuse of a land, having been thoroughly and mercilessly rejected from her home for her infidelity. Driven to the very borders of her land, she had no choice but to throw herself against the tides and hope for the best. She swam until her legs felt like they might turn to water themselves, but a looming peak on the horizon was truly the beacon of hope she needed.

The sun was at her back when she landed on the rocky beach, the cool spring air biting at her skin. Already she hated it here. Above her, the imposing mountain stretched into the heavens, its peak kissing the clouds. Shivering against the frigid ocean breeze, Marceline forced her legs to work - one hoof in front of the other, carrying her further and further away from the past and closer to a new future. One where she wouldn't make the same mistakes as before.

Eventually she found herself at the very base of the mighty mountain, the little river she'd followed to its roots terminating in a small pond surrounded by trees and tall grass. It is here that she rests, taking a moment to catch her breath and submerge herself into the crystalline water, washing away the salt and sweat and muck left behind from her journey.