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Gunter knew that she was old.
She knew a lot of things, even if the Ice King didn’t see it. She understood when he spoke; she understood when everyone spoke. She understood Finn the Human, the princesses, the other penguins, the insects and animals, even the monsters and ghosts that only she and her Master could see. She knew that she was not like the other penguins, even if she looked like them. It frustrated her that she could understand the voices of the world, but they could not understand her. In a sea of life, she was alone.
This loneliness was a source of frustration and anger that she could never seem to relieve. Sometimes it expressed itself as affection, but when she genuinely desired his attention, the Ice King never seemed to want to give it.
It infuriated her that while her Master professed to love her, he was quick to punish her for desiring that love from him. It filled her with a hot, vindictive rage. She wanted to break something, anything—everything. She wanted to feel, for once, some sliver of control, to punish her Master for ignoring her. But if he even noticed, which was seldom, all she received in return was more punishment. Still, at times negative attention was better than none at all.
Sometimes she sought comfort with her hatchling, the floating pink kitten filled with destructive potential. The other penguins, even the ones with hatchlings of their own, avoided her offspring. They were afraid of it, so she hid it away. It was her secret, her hatchling, and she loved it, though it did very little in return. It simply hovered there, needing neither food nor company, until she came to visit it. Perhaps it was still too young.
Gunter did not know what was normal for a hatchling—she could not recall being one herself. She’d watched more penguins live and die than she could count. She knew what it was like to feel old, but not to feel young.
It had been hundreds of years, according to her Master, since he’d found her wandering the ice. She remembered life before him—endless years with only the other penguins and the dangers of the deep of the sea to contend with. Many times, she had traveled north, away from the land of ice, to see what lay beyond, and every time she had encountered humans.
She had been surprised when, for the first time in her life, she had found other creatures capable of thought and emotion as complex as her own. But her joy and excitement had been short-lived, when they could not understand her at all. She mingled among them from time to time, leaving small marks on history—large, perhaps, for a penguin. But eventually she had tired of them and their continued inability to change or to understand her. Eventually she swam back to the land of snow and spent a long while alone, wandering the ice until she’d buried her anger and misery in sleep, and fish, and the fear of sharp teeth and grey skin.
She remembered when the sky turned green, and the air was filled with screaming. The oceans churned, the fish died, the skies grew dark, the penguins hid shivering beneath the ice, and the grey, devouring creatures faded from land and sea. That was a quiet time, an uneasy time. Gunter knew that something had changed, something huge. It was time to leave.
She swam away from the ice, and out into the changing world, braving dangers, surviving on her own with only her wits to keep her out of harm’s way. She had encountered many strange creatures, and many dangers, all of which she had survived. Eventually, she had come to a new icy land, not the one she had left behind her all those years ago. That was where the Ice King had found her, and taken her in. He fed her, hugged her, spoke to her, gave her possessions, even celebrated once a year the day that he’d found her. For the first time in her life, she felt almost like she might really belong here. For all the Ice King’s failings, and his neglect, he had given her something that she’d never had before—a name.
It was good to have an identity, to be something other than “me.” To be named is to be real—to matter, even in the smallest way, to other living things. Maybe this was why she hadn’t left. But even an identity, and intermittent affection, couldn’t fill the gnawing emptiness inside her. As her frustrations grew, so did the aching, furious hunger in her belly that told her she was so much more than all of this. So much bigger.
Sometimes she sat in the highest window of the Ice King’s fortress, gazing up at the twinkling black stars and wondering. She’d watched ages pass on her little world, watched civilization fill the mundanity of the natural world, destroy itself, and then return once more. She wondered how long this new world would last before it destroyed itself too.
But the stars had always been there, and they always would be. This she knew. She wished her wings could let her fly, as they did in her dreams, so that she could go to them, become like the them, burn large and bright and awesome as the dawn, and as terrible as the death of worlds.
But she could not. She was rooted to the earth and water like a tree. So she cried out for attention, broke small things, brooded, and drowned her thoughts and frustrations in games and trivial entertainments.
There was a void inside her that she could not fill, a whispering in the back of her mind that told her to destroy, to consume, to conquer.
But she could not. So she tried not to think about it. Sometimes, she even tried to be good, so perhaps her Master, and others, would love her more. Maybe that was all she wanted, maybe that could satisfy her.
Or maybe not.
~*~
Gunter blinked her eyes open wearily. The pink fabric of her cradle in the Ice King’s fortress loomed over her, filtering the bright, reflected light into a soft rosy haze. She let out a soft ‘wenk’ of pain. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, but her head in particular felt like it had been split in half. She shut her eyes again, willing herself to go back to sleep, to escape the throbbing ache in her head and the deep, nameless misery in her heart.
Something had happened. Something huge. And she could not remember.
The deep hole in her heart had stretched into a ravenous void. She wanted to scream and smash the whole world to the ground; she wanted to curl up into herself and disappear forever. It wasn’t fair! What had she ever done to the Universe to deserve such an existence?
“Oh, look who’s awake. It’s my Goonty-Woonty.” The Ice King loomed over her, blocking out the unforgiving light. “Is baby feeling better? You took a pretty nasty knock to the noggin back there. I got you your bottle, and a little company!” He waggled his bushy eyebrows at the last part and gently placed a baby bottle full of water and a hideous teddy bear into the cradle with her. “Get some sleep now! A well-rested penguin is a healthy penguin!” With that he disappeared out of sight again.
Gunter hissed at the teddy bear. She lacked the strength to throw it out of the crib, so instead she rolled over onto her side, nursing the water bottle resentfully. Her master was a fool, who treated her like she was a fool too. She wished for her hatchling’s company.
She lay there, wallowing in self-pity for a while, before the anger began to resurface. What had happened to her? Why was she in so much pain, and why couldn’t she remember? She knew the Ice King, even if he knew, would not be able to tell her. He was lost in more ways than one. She recalled that time when, stripped of the powers of his crown, he had become his former self, Simon, again. Simon was intelligent, kind, and respectful—everything that the Ice King was not.
They were kindred spirits, she and her master. Maybe that was another reason she didn’t leave. They had both lost their true selves, but Simon had friends who were searching for him. Gunter had no one.
Who out there could help her? The other wizards were cruel and selfish, or bumbling fools. Princess Bubblegum was intelligent, but also self-serving, and despite her new general tolerance of the Ice King, Gunter did not want to be manipulated, or experimented upon.
Briefly, her thoughts turned to the Cosmic Owl, who had seen her dream-self—how she wished she could appear. But that spark of hope quickly died. Her memories of the dreams were hazy, but she recalled inciting chaos in a dream of Princess Bubblegum’s, and the Cosmic Owl’s hurt and betrayal at her actions. Angry at herself, and embarrassed that she had blown it so quickly with someone who could actually see her as she wished to be seen and speak with her as an equal, she turned her thoughts to someone else.
There was Marceline, who had not given up on the Ice King in all these hundreds of years, who had her own knowledge of powers beyond the mortal plane.
Gunter considered this option. Perhaps Marceline would be able to help her, if she could find a way to communicate with her. Marceline could be aloof, distracted, and was not particularly fond of penguins. Perhaps not, then.
She continued down her mental list, and her thoughts drifted to the human boy, Finn, and his magic dog. Their history with Gunter and her master was complex, but in recent years they had become more friend than foe. They, unlike many others, had made an effort to understand the Ice King. To pity what he had become rather than revile it. They had made an effort to help her in the past as well. Finn had carried her from the melting fortress when it had been attacked by the fire princess, and had tried to reason with her when she had laid siege to the Candy Kingdom in a petty bid for attention.
They, at least, would probably not manipulate or attack her. It was a start.
Slowly, Gunter sat up, dragging her heavy, aching body over the side of her bed and onto the floor. She looked over at the entrance to her Master’s bedroom, considering, before turning and making for the exit. She moved slowly, but with conviction. What was happening now was bigger than any bodily harm she had suffered. She had to fill this void, she had to know who she was, or at this point, she might as well be dead.
~*~
It was morning by the time Gunter reached the Grasslands. She’d walked all night, as fast as her tired little penguin feet could carry her. The ice and snow didn’t bother her, but she particularly enjoyed the feeling of grass under her feet, cool and damp and soft. She knocked at the door, and voices filtered through the wood.
“Huh, who’s that?”
“I dunno, man. I’ll go check it out.”
The door opened, and Jake stood in front of her, a frying pan full of bacon in hand.
“Oh Glob, it’s—uh. Hey there. Gunter,” Jake said nervously. Gunter’s eyes narrowed and she waddled forward through the doorway. Jake backed away from her, keeping his distance.
“Hey, Finn… it’s Gunter!”
There was a crashing sound upstairs followed by a “Hiyaa!” as Finn launched himself from the hole in the ceiling and karate-chopped the ground right in front of Gunter’s feet.
“Wenk!” she cried out, stumbling backwards and flapping her wings to keep her balance. She glared at Finn warily while the boy cocked his head, observing her.
“You cool?” he asked.
“Wenk?”
“I mean, are you gonna go all ‘pwoooshhphlbt’—” here he made an arc above his head with his hands, wiggling his fingers, “—again? Or are you, uh, just Gunter again now?”
“Wenk.” She sat down on the floor, massaging the sides of her head with her wings. “Wenk.”
Finn frowned. He sat down on the floor across from her.
“Do you even remember what happened?”
Gunter shook her head, rubbing it harder. She was missing something—something huge. Why couldn’t she remember? There was a haze inside her mind as thick as snow and cold as the sea. It was suffocating.
“Oh. Is that why you came here then? Because you can’t remember?”
“Wenk.” She nodded.
“Ah. Hmmm. Well, uh.” His brow creased and he fiddled his fingers together. “I’m sorry, Gunter. But I don’t think I should tell you.”
“Wenk! Wenk wenk wenk.” She got up and hobbled towards Finn angrily, slapping his knee with her wing.
“Hey! Cut it out!” Finn exclaimed, before she felt herself being constricted, and drawn away. Jake’s yellow arm wrapped around her like a length of rope.
“You stay away from him you screwy umbrella monster.”
“Wenk wenk?”
“Come on, Jake. He’s harmless now. And he took a real beating, he’s probably still recovering.”
“Well, it’s his own fault. I’m not sorry.” Jake released her from his hold regardless.
“Hmmm. I don’t know what to do, Jake. I feel like, he’s got a right to know, but will telling him make him remember? If he remembers, will we have to do the whole thing all over again? I don’t want that.”
“None of us do, and that’s why we should take him,” he pointed at Gunter, “back to the Ice King and let him deal with the little monster.”
“Wenk wenk. Wenk wenk!” Gunter cried, flapping her wings frantically. She didn’t want to back to the Ice Kingdom, she wanted answers!
“Dude, think about it though. I mean… the Comet’s gone now. That what was making everything all screwy. Without it, I don’t think Gunter can remember, or even if he can, I don’t think he can do anything about it.”
“I dunno, man. I don’t like it. He might try something.”
“If he does, then we’ll stop him, like last time. We’re heroes, man. It’s what we do. We gotta help everyone we can. Besides,” he looked down at Gunter, pity filling his expression at her evident misery, “everybody deserves a second chance. Even the Lich got one of those, and he’s the evilest thing we’ve ever fought.”
Jake’s shoulders sagged. “I guess you’re right.”
“I hope so.”
Finn leaned down, and picked Gunter up by the armpits. “You’re probably gonna want to be sitting for this, so I’m gonna put you on the couch.”
“Wenk.”
Once she was settled on the cushions, and BMO had brought her a mug of tea to sip, Finn began pacing the floor in front of her.
“Where to start…” he muttered to himself, pausing. “Okay, so, a few days ago, some mad crazy bizz went down. It was all because of this comet, the Catalyst Comet, that reappears every, uh, thousand years or so and crashes into Ooo, changing everything. So the Comet was going to hit us, and everyone started having crazy dreams and weird stuff was happening. Princess Bubblegum got usurped by the King of Ooo, Glob died, everything was kind of a mess. Then, I guess, that’s where you come in.”
Finn looked at the penguin intently, as if searching for something.
“I’m just gonna be straight with you, man. You’re not a penguin.”
“Wenk wenk?”
“You’re some kind of, cosmic entity. Like Glob, or Prismo, I guess. Only, um, more evil. So a whole lotta years ago you tried to absorb a Catalyst Comet, but Glob knocked you down here, and you turned into a penguin and forgot what you were before. And then I guess, for whatever reason, when the comet came closer again, you remembered. You hijacked a spaceship to intercept the comet, turned into a giant space umbrella, and I had to stop you and destroy the comet. Then you followed us back down to Ooo and turned into a penguin again, and I guess forgot again. Maybe when you’re down here, you can’t remember. Maybe penguin brains are too small to remember being space gods. You definitely had, uh, a lot of brains when you started going crazy.” He shuffled his feet a bit. “So, uh, does that answer your questions?”
Gunter was silent. She frowned, trying to process all of this information. Her? An ancient evil cosmic deity? It seemed so far away, so unreal, and yet the idea of being so large, of having so much power, was pleasing to her. To know that floating among the stars, swallowing comets whole, was what she had once been…it felt, somehow…right.
“Oh yeah, up there, you called yourself Orgalorg.”
Her eyes widened. Orgalorg. That name felt…familiar. A tremor ran through her small body. Yes! That name was… it was…
Suddenly, it was just a name. Orgalorg. That brief flicker of recognition faded away as quickly as it had come. She held her head in her wings again, heart heavy with despair. Now she knew what she really was, but because she couldn’t remember it, it almost didn’t matter.
What was the point of knowing what she was if she didn’t know, in the deepest, darkest parts of her, that knowledge to be truth? Knowing with her mind was not the same as knowing with her heart and soul. In some ways, these revelations made her current situation intolerably worse—to know without a doubt that she was meant for something more, and powerless to actualize that suppressed potential.
“Hey, Gunter, it’s gonna be okay.” She looked up to see Finn crouched in front of her, his eyes filled with sympathy and…understanding. “I might not be a giant space beast, but I understand feeling like what you are…isn’t what you’re supposed to be. Wondering where you came from, why you were put here, and what you’re supposed to do now…”
“Wenk.” She could see that he did understand, in a way, some part of her pain. But how could he help her? He couldn’t even understand her. The only one who ever really had was…the Cosmic Owl. Suddenly, an idea formed.
“Wenk wenk,” she said, slapping the sides of Finn’s face lightly with her wings.
“Huh? What is it?”
“Wenk,” she dragged the tips of her wings over his eyes, trying to close them. When he’d opened them again, she did the same to herself, and mimed sleeping.
“You, uh, want us to go to sleep?”
“Wenk wenk.”
“Why would that h—oh. Can you talk in dreams?”
“Wenk wenk!” she nodded vigorously.
“Oh, that’s cool. Well, it’s still morning, so I’m wide awake right now, but if you want to stick around today, then tonight we could see if we could make it work.
“Wenk.” This was acceptable. She didn’t know if Finn could really do anything to alleviate her existential angst, but right now…she desperately wanted someone to talk to. And Finn had become, oddly enough, wise beyond his years and accepting of those who were utterly different from himself.
~*~
The rest of the day passed slowly, drawn long by her restless anticipation, and the tumult of thought turning over and over in her mind. She watched Finn and Jake laze around the house, eating their breakfast, some of which she was offered (it was pancakes), and playing games with their little robot. Finn left mid-afternoon to fight a cat and a shark that had appeared in front of the treehouse. She observed the battle with disinterest, watching eagerly for the setting of the sun. When evening finally came, Finn and Jake cooked dinner and chatted for a while, and she was invited to play card games with them, which turned out to be their mistake, since penguins have the straightest poker faces in Ooo. She prided herself on having no tells, and quickly hoarded all the chips (popcorn).
When it was finally time to sleep, Finn made a nest of blankets for Gunter beside his bed, which she burrowed into, feeling a deep tiredness settle into her bones. She was still sore from her forgotten transformations and plunge back to the surface of the planet.
“So, how am I going to find you?” Finn asked, twisting over in his sleeping bag to face her.
“Wenk wenk.”
“Oh. Okay.” He rolled back over, and soon drifted off to sleep. Gunter was slower to follow, but eventually exhaustion won over anticipation, and she found herself in her dream form, standing on a chunk of ice and gazing out at the endless sea. Instead of bright day, however, it was evening, and the setting sun cast a purple tint across the ice. She looked around; no Finn.
Closing her eyes and settling down on the ice, she sought him out with her mind, letting instinct take over, whispering into the void, chasing after his soul—bright as a comet in the darkness of space.
“Whoa, Gunter. Is that you?”
She opened her eyes. Finn was hoping towards her from a few icebergs away.
“Yes. This is me.” Finn stumbled a little as he reached the floe she was standing on. He looked her over quickly, and blushed.
“I, uh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were a lady bird. Ice King always called you he, so I guess I just assumed, even though you did lay that egg once…”
She chuckled. “It’s fine. I don’t mind much, really. This is just how I feel most comfortable.”
Finn sat down beside her, shivering when his bare skin touched the ice. They sat together in silence for a time.
“You seem… calmer,” Finn said, eventually. “Like, I mean, when we’re awake, I feel like you’re either getting into trouble, being angry, or just sort of…observing everything.” Gunter shrugged.
“In the waking world, I’m powerless. I can’t express myself easily, and my form is small and weak. Here I can speak, I can appear how I… feel I should look, perhaps. Dreams are so much quieter than the waking world.”
“Yeah I guess. The inside of my head can get pretty loud though, and my dreams can get pretty freaky.” He stared out across the ice and water. “Are your dreams like this a lot?”
“They’re always like this. That’s why I visit other people’s dreams so often.”
“Oh. That’s sad, I guess?”
“It can be dull, but it’s something constant, at least. I used to wonder what was wrong with me, that my dreams were always so empty, when those of others were so vibrant. Now I know.”
“Yeah… So, uh, how are you feeling…about all that?”
“I guess I’m feeling a lot things,” Gunter admitted, gazing out across the restless sea. “Relieved. Frustrated. Pleased. Angry. Upset. Helpless. You’ve told me that I’m meant to be huge, and powerful, and evil. But… right now, I don’t think those are what I am. And I don’t know how I should feel about that. I don’t remember being… Orgalorg. And from what you said, I don’t think I can unless I become Orgalorg again. And with that Comet gone… maybe I can’t. Maybe this is what I’ll be forever.” A look of great sorrow and pain crossed her face.
“You said I was evil. Did I do terrible things?” Finn frowned.
“Yeah, I think so. You ruled a solar system, destroyed worlds. Lots of people are terrified of you.”
“So, is this my punishment?” she asked, unable to stop the tremble in her voice. “To forget myself, to be helpless and voiceless for the rest of my immortal life?”
“Maybe.”
“It isn’t fair!” She cried, tears gathering in her large black eyes and running down her feathered face. “I can’t even remember doing anything like that, why am I the one that has to suffer? I feel… compelled to do things sometimes, and I never know why. They feel right, but everyone always tells me it’s wrong. It’s like my heart says one thing, and my brain says another.”
“I’m sorry,” Finn said quietly, unsure of whether or not it would be okay to put a hand on her wing to comfort her. “But maybe… you’re looking at it the wrong way.”
“What other way is there to look at it?” she snapped, sniffing back tears.
“Well, when you became Orgalorg again, it was like you forgot all about being Gunter. You, Gunter, and Orgalorg are two different people. Almost like reincarnation, you see? You have the same soul, in a way, but different memories and experiences, different hopes and dreams. Maybe now that you know what you used to be, you can finally figure out who you are now.”
“Oh.” She looked at Finn, as if seeing him for the first time. His words made sense to her, gave her something to focus on besides her confusion and despair. Maybe he was right. She had these feelings inside her, but even so, she was not Orgalorg. She could not be. Only Orgalorg could be Orgalorg. To Gunter, he was only a distant dream, too far away to reach. And if she did remember, what would become of her? Would she cease to be? Only a tiny speck in the memory of an unfathomable creature of the abyss?
“Who I am…”
“Yeah. I feel like, maybe you’ve had other people telling you what you’re supposed to be for a long time now. Ice king, and even feelings from your past self. Just because Orgalorg wanted to destroy worlds and rule the galaxy, doesn’t mean that’s what you want. Orgalorg never had to ask himself existential questions and bizz, but you do, Gunter. You feel confused, and that’s a good thing. It means you’re still fighting to be what you want to be, not what some arbitrary idea of destiny has told you that you have to be.”
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she and her past self, were, in a way, completely different individuals, just as Finn was saying. For Orgalorg to regain his memories, would Gunter have to die? Could she surrender herself like that? Did she even have a choice?
“You’re right… maybe I do need to… find myself, find the real Gunter.”
Ooo was a place of new beginnings, after all. It had risen from the ashes of a world that had destroyed itself. She and this world were much alike. Orgalorg’s hubris and lust for power had caused his downfall, and Gunter now stood here in his place. Maybe it was time to stop sifting through the rubble of her soul, and begin to reinvent herself.
“Yeah!” Finn smiled widely. “I didn’t know if I was making any sense back there, so I’m glad I could help.”
“Yes. It was nice. Having someone to talk to. I’ve never had that, really. No one I could talk to as the real me, at least. You’re a strange creature, Finn the Human.”
Finn blushed again, rubbing his arm with the opposite hand.
“Haha, it’s not biggie, really. I’m just here to help.”
“You have helped. It was… unexpected. I have been alone for a long time.”
“What about Simon? And the other penguins?”
“The Ice King is a fool,” she snapped bitterly. “He doesn’t listen. He doesn’t understand. He treats me like a child, or a dumb animal. And the other penguins…I think they know that I’m not really one of them. I’ve always felt apart. I’ve always had… bigger thoughts. It scares them, sometimes.”
“Oh. That sounds pretty rough. But uh, you know, so long as you’re not doing anything evil or world-conquery, you can always hang with me and Jake if you want.”
“Really?” Her feathers fluffed up in surprise.
“Yeah, I mean. If you wanted to. I mean we do a lot of dangerous stuff, so I don’t know if that would really be a good idea, but if you’re up for it, why not? And I bet we could even find you one of those universal translators too, I’m sure that would help a lot. I’ll ask Jake if Lady’s parents can get one for us.”
“Finn the human…” Gunter smiled, then leaned in to hug him. “Thank you.”
“Y-yeah. You’re welcome.” Gingerly, he returned the hug, curling his fingers into her warm feathers.
“After hearing what you had to say… I think you’re right. I think I do need to go out and find myself, or make something new of myself. I have so many… dark thoughts and urges. I want power. I want to destroy… it… feels so right, so satisfying. Maybe I am truly evil, maybe there’s no way around that. But isn’t it better to know for sure, and to embrace it, than to fight against my true self?” Finn looked uncomfortable.
“Well, uh. I mean, people said that… Flame Princess was evil too. But that wasn’t true. Yeah, she likes to destroy stuff, and set things on fire, but that’s because she’s a fire elemental. It’s in her nature. But it doesn’t make her evil. It’s what you choose to do that really defines who you are. We all have things that we’re good at, that feel right to us, but we also all have a choice about how we want to change the world with those qualities that make us unique. I think even if you feel that way, you can still use that… darkness, for good. As long as you’re destroying evil, and not hurting innocent peeps, you don’t have to feel bad, or conflicted, or anything.”
“Hmm. It’s something… I’ll have to try, I suppose. I don’t… I don’t know if being evil is what I want. A lot of the time I just feel angry. But maybe that’s because I’ve never really understood myself, or had a real purpose. Maybe that’s my next step.”
Finn sighed with relief. “Yeah. You gotta find what makes you happy. Everyone starts somewhere, right?” He got to his feet. It was becoming lighter, and the ice began to glow with reflected sunlight.
Gunter looked over at the horizon, and the growing light, and realized that what she had thought was dusk, was actually dawn.
“How do you feel now?” Finn asked.
A smile slowly formed on Gunter’s face.
“I feel… new.”
~*~