Chapter Text
His father had grown weak. Dark Choco had yet to know why, but he knew everyone suffered because of his selfish decisions.
Despite not having talked to his father often, he could see just how much Pure Vanilla’s death had affected the ancient over the years. The king hid behind his carefully constructed walls, the troops once so eager to fight, to help out neighbouring kingdoms and villages, were now only given one duty : protect.
That was all it was. The troops would train in, then guard the huge citadel walls, fighting off any licorice monsters or bandits that even tried to enter.
Weak and arrogant was what he called his father. Instead of facing his feelings and moving on, he decides to hide behind his desk, only ever leaving if an enemy got too close to villagers, if a watcher was too weak to fend off such monsters.
Dark Choco, instead, actually worked in the town. Attending meetings to try and help the villagers who still suffered from the Dark Flour war, giving warmth and food to the poor, going into the streets of the citadel not from a distance, but up close. Listening to the needs of the people, the people his father was tasked to take care of.
He can still hear their demands, their suffering, their hope for the future. How the old praised him for his generosity and care and how the young dreamed of becoming great warriors like the ones in tales he passed on from generation to generation.
He promised his kingdom a future as strong as the chocolate mountains themselves. Even though he couldn’t guarantee it, considering the current state his father was in, he tried his best. He knew his father was immortal, and a great warrior, even though his age was somewhat catching up, he was probably as old as the elders in the village yet still acted as if he just started aging. Dark Choco wondered, would it last? Would he be king? Could he truly make a difference, or would he have to wait on the sidelines for all of eternity, waiting for his father to either give up the throne, or simply die? Dark Choco wasn’t entirely sure how the rules of immortality worked, could he even get hurt or would the wound heal? The young prince was clueless, all he knew was that he was still waiting. But his patience was running out.
And one day, there was none left.
That night, there had been a licorice monsters raid, the biggest one they had all winter. It was brutal, when you had finished stabbing the slimy beast back into the ocean, another one would jump on you, nearly giving out time for many soldiers to breath or rest. Not even injured cookies could be properly tended to due to the amount of commotion all around.
Dark Choco was on the frontlines that night. Helping soldiers with the biggest monsters that could appear and giving a break to the ones that had been fighting the longest. As brutal as that night was, the aftermath was the worst. Guilt washed over Dark Choco, seeing the crumpled bodies of the cookies he had sworn to protect. Young and old soldiers he had trained with, who he had sworn a better future for, who in the end, had lost their lives for their kingdom.
A fight this big would’ve at least caught the attention of an ancient warrior, carrying a mythical sword with legendary powers, right? Especially after all the raids he had missed, maybe this one might’ve actually caught his attention? Not even. The king wasn’t even seen helping villagers get out of the battle field. He had stayed inside his office as always, giving out orders to generals and lieutenant, helping them organize the troops and strategize against the flock.
Something that his counselors were trained to do, something he could’ve done right there on the battlefield instead of letting those cookies crumble.
Dark Choco, after having helped as many wounded soldiers as he could’ve, stormed towards the library. Many servants and soldiers praised him for his bravery on the field, thanking him for showing them support and helping them in defeating the licorice monsters. But all the endless chatter blurred in his ears, his paste going so fast as to merely glance towards them. All he cared about was unleashing his fury on his father, how could he be such a coward? He must’ve always been like this, that's why he wasn’t able to protect the Pure Vanilla cookie like she was SUPPOSED TO DO.
There was only one way he could make it up, Dark Choco knew that despite all the training he endured, he would never be as great as his father. That was what he had accepted long before. But what made his father so legendary? What made him the immortal ancient his people praise him for everyday? His soul jam and that stupid stupid sword he carries around everywhere.
What Dark Choco was chasing after was merely legends of course. Rumours spread through ancient texts and murals that could even be confused by his father’s sword, but make no mistake. That sword accompanied the bravest warriors through the toughest battles. One slash and it could scare off Licorice monsters for weeks, even months, from even coming close to the quake.
Of course, it could be no other than the legendary Strawberry Jam sword. The only sword that was able to match, even if it was just a little bit less than, the Grapejam Choco blade and the souljam of resolution, and soon to be Dark Choco’s weapon.
That was if he could find the sword in the first place.
Dark Choco locked himself in the library, his table filled with books about every legend, any drop of information he could get on the whereabouts. Night and day his nose kept sniffing the old dusty sheets of books that hadn’t been touched in years, he would even read about the spire of all knowledge, probably containing far many books about the subject and far better information on its whereabouts. Pure Vanilla cookie would’ve known the location of the spire, might’ve even known the location of the sword, he did carry the souljam of truth after all.
Pure Vanilla cookie… The thought of his mother came in his head less and less frequently these days. Dark Choco hadn’t moved on, of course not. In fact, around this time of year, he would be packing his bags to the Vanilla kingdom. Now, all the thoughts he had of his mother were during times of anger, when he was angry at his father especially. He hadn’t forgiven him for his lack of strength, he never will, but he already knows his father knows. Maybe if his father had been strong enough, he’d be protecting his kingdom, he would’ve saved Pure Vanilla cookies.
In the end, he wouldn't even be here.
Dark Choco was about to give up, sleep and hunger had creeped up to him, and now had finally reached him. He had no more energy to take another book, each word left his eyes even heavier. Just as he turned around his chair and lifted himself upwards towards the exit, a strange blue light appeared through the corners of his eyes.
Hallucinating already, he thought to himself. Yet the blue felt familiar, warm, its light reaching towards him, guiding him somewhere. Suddenly, all the energy he had lost came back to him as he searched through the old books one last time. His hands rolled the edges of the dusty bookshelves, tracing the letterings of the titles he had read over a thousand times. This was useless he thought again, as he turned back again towards the exit. He cleaned up his book, one about the history of magical artifacts, the other about the ancient warriors of the Coffee tribe, the history of the Cacao kingdom, untitled..
Untitled?
Yes, one book seemed to possess no name, a soft leather cover covered its falling papers. It looked like a journal of some sorts, an old one certainly. Dark Choco hadn’t remembered seeing it despite being sure he had read all of them. Once again, the prince sat down and started reading. As he predicted, the lines were messy and the ink hadn’t seemed to dry when the journal closed, this could never be the work of a scribe, not even the work of an author.
The journal depicted brutal scenes. As far as Dark Choco could understand, this seemed to be the work of one of Ristretto cookie’s soldiers, the last wielder of the Strawberry Jam sword, one of the most cruel man depicted to have carried it. The soldier described all the battles he faced, the way they annihilated entire villages, leaving no witnesses behind, not even young cookies, with fresh dough. How Ristretto cookies starved his men, taking all the food and treasures for himself, leaving them with barely any scraps, but fear. Fear that if they rebel, he can crumble them with merely a touch of his sword. That was how the strawberry jam sword worked, the stronger the wielder's hatred is, the stronger the sword reacts. Dark Choco stayed focused as the soldier described how despite how starved he was, one night he stole the sword from Ristretto cookie’s hand, hiding it in a cave of the cane sugar mountain, the eagle’s cave he had called it. . .
The eagle’s cave. Of course!
The eagle’s cave had always been rumoured to be a place where the souls of greedy cookies would lay to rest after an unworthy crumble. People could still hear screams and pleas down the cave. Of course, none who entered came back, as if anyone even dared to step in. No one wanted to go to the underworld, especially not if it meant eternity of pain and suffering.
But Dark Choco realized, maybe it wasn’t the underworld, maybe it was the cries of the endless victims the Strawberry Sword had taken, warning its wearers of the power resting inside.
The prince took no time to waste, he ripped the page with the coordinates out of the journal, throwing it away somewhere, before racing to his quarters, backing his bags as eagerly as he had done all those years ago. He hadn’t packed much, only spare clothes and enough jellies for the journey, he knew the way to the cave like the back of his hand, he hadn’t gone anywhere near it, but he had crossed the Sugar Cane mountain dozens of times on his way to the Vanilla kingdom, being the best shortcut towards it. It would be just like old times, he thought.
And so, without warning any of his subjects and not an ounce of sleep yet, he left the kingdom in the middle of the night in search of the legendary sword.
Maybe, just maybe for once in his life, his father would pay him the respect he has earned.
He will make his kingdom proud, his father proud, and most importantly, Pure Vanilla proud.