Chapter Text
“Father!”
Dark Cacao's eyes fluttered slightly at the voice, his mind not fully trusting what he was hearing. His mind still felt fuzzy and sluggish, as if the poison was still coursing through his veins. When his eyes finally opened he was met with an all too familiar view. Grey light streaming in through the half closed windows, the beams splayed across the wall like a faint guide to somewhere he wasn’t even sure he could go.
Finally, he moved, body still feeling leaden as he sat up, his mind clinging to the idea that what had happened was a dream. Well, that was until he looked down and saw his own corpse beneath him. He nearly screamed, barely keeping it together as he looked around. His eyes landed on a very familiar someone.
He nearly stopped breathing a second time as he saw his boy's face.
“Dark Choco…” Dark Cacao whispered, as if uttering the name might crumble his boy again. The prince nodded, a faint little smile showing for just a moment. The king quickly wrapped his boy in a hug, startling the prince for just a moment.
They stayed like that, not willing to move or breathe as if it would bring either one of them back to life. “Father?” The prince squeaked. “I-” “Appa.” The king corrected. Dark Choco blinked, his ruby red eyes filling with confusion as he looked at his father. “I… regret making you call me father so early.” The king sighed, his eyes showing how tired he felt. “I regret a lot of things I did with you.”
The little prince smiled, a small laugh escaping from his lips as he hugged his Appa. The king hugged back, frowning slightly at the circumstance. They shouldn’t have had to die to properly connect with each other. His son shouldn’t have died for him to finally realize the mistakes in his parenting.
His son shouldn’t have died at all if he had done better.
“Appa?” His son asked. The king eased his grip, not realizing that it had gotten so tight around his boy. “What… what happens now? Where do we go?” Dark Choco asked, his little hand gripping the others tightly. The fallen king shook his head, unsure of what to say, for once, he had no answer to speak of.
The two barely spoke after that, still unsure if something would happen. It never did, for they just sat there, wrapped in a silence that felt far too familiar to the one from when they were alive.
Dark Cacao's body had been found a day or so later, with the events acting out similarly to when the prince had been found dead. The father and son watched as the cookies in the citadel mourned, feeling an odd detachment to it all. They had seen it before after all, and lived through it.
Though, they couldn’t help but wonder if ‘live’ was the best word for it, after all, they were no longer living. They watched as the advisor took the throne, the kingdom changing practically overnight. How the familiar scent of bitter foods was quickly replaced by sweet smells.
How the usual black and brown hanboks were swapped for the more vibrant purples and whites Affogato seemed to adore. How every last bit of their old kingdom was flushed and forgotten as if it had never existed in the first place. In some ways, the two called royals mourned, mourned for the loss of the familiar, for the loss of their home.
And for the loss of those closest to them, how the most loyal watchers were cast aside when they were no longer deemed useful. Dark Cacao stood watch for hours the day Choco Bark was banished, his wine colored eyes scanning over the snowscape as if he was expecting that familiar spear to appear between the trees.
By the time night fell the fallen king had finally accepted that his old friend was now gone. After that the losses felt numb to them, watching people leave and get replaced as easily as a broken dish.
Eventually, the previous royalty slipped from the kingdom's mind, leaving them a forgotten part of history. Buried under the layers of snow and ice that most assumed they knew better than themselves. The choco grape jam blade went unused, a relic of the past, reserved for gawking and legends.
Though, occasionally, a servant would see a silhouette in the hallway, one outlined by the full moon. They’d be gone by the time the servant drew closer, with nothing greeting the confused cookie but an odd icy shiver up their spine. Or, laughter echoing through the halls, the kind that sounded too carefree for the frigid plains they inhabited.
Though, the laugh was always gone within seconds, trailing off into the closed off sections of the citadel. Rumors spread, some took root, others got absorbed. None were ever addressed. Most told of the ghosts that inhabited the citadel, painting them as ancient spirits that had been there for years.
A few rare rumors spoke of the spirits as kind, those who just want to be remembered. Those were always the ones that were smothered the fastest. However, the father and son never cared, after all, who were they to meddle in the world of the living? Especially when they had their whole afterlife ahead of them.