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There, in the aftermath, stood Matcha.
All sound around her seemed to have disappeared, replaced by a loud ringing in her ears.
The ringing that drowned out how Licorice and Pomegranate yelled at her, their faces contorted in anger. Butter Roll, as much as Matcha didn’t like him, tried to calm the two down, obviously trying to see the best of the situation.
“She didn’t mean to! Look at it this way, now we know what not to do!” It was muffled but, as sweet as the gesture seemed, it still pained Matcha to the core.
All he cared about was his work, of course that’s all he was trying to get the others to focus on.
Alas, she wasn’t as forgiving.
Her mother.
She couldn’t hear a word but she had certainly got her mother’s attention.
Her mother’s ire, more accurately.
Dark Enchantress held one of her horns, keeping Matcha looking at her as she tried to berate her.
She didn’t hear a thing but she felt it.
She felt the tug on her horn, the hand gripping her shoulder tightly and the tears that began to run down her face. Her throat was tight, she felt she couldn’t breathe. As they say, one should be careful what they wish for. She had her mother’s attention but her mother seemed to despise her, to see her as a burden.
“I don’t know why I ever made you!”
“Mother-”
“Don’t call me that! You are just some experiment, a guinea pig, you were never my daughter! You’re not even a real cookie!”
Matcha could no longer speak, forced to hear her mother, her creator, invalidate her own existence.
Was she real..? Was she really a cookie or something taking the shape of one?
She didn’t know but she knew she wasn’t wanted. So, after a shove to ground from Dark Enchantress, she bolted.
“Matcha?” Butter Roll asked, the faintest hint of worry in his voice.
“Matcha! Matcha, wait!” Poison Mushroom called, trying to chase after her. “Come back!” They sounded equally as upset as she felt, their voice becoming quieter as Licorice likely carried them away.
She continued to run, her vision blurry from tears.
‘Mother touched me… She finally touched me but it hurt…’ She had wanted a hug. She had wanted to lifted into Dark Enchantress’ arms and told that someone was proud of her.
That someone loved her.
But she didn’t get that. And she couldn’t take it.
So she kept running, knocking various cookies down as she sped through the undamaged parts of the lab.
Her lungs began to burn but she didn’t stop.
She barely reacted as the scenery changed, the cold walls of the lab replaced with flora and the occasional animal watching her pass. The wind struck her to her core, stinging her dough as much as her tears did.
Stones, sticks and even roots dug into her feet, hurting her as she continued to run. And yet, she couldn’t stop, she wouldn’t stop. The physical pain was nothing compared to her emotional pain, the pain of hearing her mother scream at her.
Everything she tried was met with insults.
“…Is this supposed to impress me? Try harder next time. Go on, Tea Cookie.” Dark Enchantress had said once to a young Matcha many years ago when she had shown her something she drawn for her.
She audibly sobbed, remembering the cold look Dark Enchantress gave her, remembering how she didn’t even care to call her by her actual name. Matcha could easily recall several occasions when such a thing happened. Every single word she remembered was a dagger to her aching heart, every painful memory drew another tear from her sore, swollen eyes.
When did Dark Enchantress last hold her before her outburst?
She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the tears out as she tried to remember.
But nothing. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had held her, let alone Dark Enchantress.
She opened her eyes to see where she was going only to find a tree right in front of her, Matcha hitting it as she tried to stop too late.
…
Matcha looked around, being met with darkness. “Where am I..?” She looked down, able to see her sleeve-covered hands but no solid ground.
“Mother..?” Her voice echoed off of the invisible walls of where she was, her own voice digging into her ears. She sounded beyond pathetic, calling for Dark Enchantress like some lost child.
Until she got an answer. “Matcha Cookie..?”
“Mother!” She ran toward Dark Enchantress, hugging her the second she reached her. “Hehehehe! I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to make bodies for the beasts, Mother! But I tried, right?!”
Her smile dropped the second she looked up. A statue of Dark Enchantress, its face as cold as the real thing. “You didn’t try enough.” As her creator’s voice rang out in the room, the statue crumbled in Matcha’s arms.
“Mother! Please, I tried my best!” She scooped up the dust of the statue, a mysterious gust of wind sweeping it away just as quickly. “I really tried, Mother!”
Dark Enchantress appeared in the void again. “You call that your best? Have you seen what you actually did?” She scoffed. “I hardly consider it subpar.”
Matcha hugged this version too. “Don’t say that, Mother! Please Mother, I can be better!” Once again, the fake Dark Enchantress crumbled away.
“Have you seen what my son is capable of? All those cakes! To think, he has them hanging on his every word!”
Red Velvet Cookie, her brother.
The favourite.
“Mother!” Matcha sobbed, looking around to find her.
“And Pomegranate is so good at controlling people! She’s certainly talented!”
“Mother, please!”
“Hell, Licorice is even better at making barely living beings than you are! He did control the Licorice Sea, after all.”
Matcha had to listen in horror, listening to how Dark Enchantress thought everyone was better than she could ever be.
“Choco Werehound Brute is actually strong!”
“Butter Roll is more capable than you’ll ever be!”
“Even children are more of a threat than you!”
She dug her hands into her hair, almost pulling it out as she sobbed. She wanted it to stop. She wanted to hear one good thing about herself, one small compliment.
A pair of arms wrapped around her and she was pulled into a hug, her head resting in the cookie’s neck. It was cold but better than nothing. Finally. Finally, her mother was holding her. Despite all the awful words, she felt loved, she felt at ease. “It’s okay.” Two voices mixed together, neither belonging to her mother.
But she didn’t care.
At least, not until she heard her creator speak once more.
“You will never be enough. You are always going to fall just short because you are not a real cookie. Because you will always have something missing.”
“MOTHER!” She cried, sitting up. Matcha hyperventilated, trying to catch her breath.
She looked around confused, a hand on her chest. The room she was in was varying shades of grey, blue and purple, the windows made up of stained glass visions of butterflies and flowers. It was certainly better than the void, she supposed, but she still didn’t know where she was. Looking down at her hands revealed that she wasn’t in the clothes she was in before, her sleeves ending at her wrists and being the palest shade of green she had ever seen before in her life. Her dough was clean too, all traces of grime gone. “Huh..?”
“Are you alright?” A calming male voice asked, the sudden question making her jump. She looked up to see a yellow haired, tanned cookie, a blue gem hanging off his chest. “You hit your head pretty hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if it still hurt.” She subconsciously rubbed her forehead, surprised to feel a bump there. The other cookie reached out to her but she flung the covers over her like a bratty child. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything is okay.” He cooed, going over to the bed. “It’s okay if you need help.”
“I don’t need help from you!” Matcha was grateful he couldn’t see her, tears filling her eyes once again. “Alright. Feel free to call for me if you need it.” She braced herself for… Anything. But nothing. She heard the footsteps of the cookie leaving the room. Slowly, she peeked out from under the covers, watching him exit and slowly close the door.
She thought for a moment, processing what just happened. ‘That must’ve been Pure Vanilla Cookie.’ She thought to herself.
Then, she got an idea.
‘Wait… If I got the souljams, maybe that would show Mother that I’m good enough!’ She clapped her hands, moving to stand up only for pain to shoot up her body. Her feet and legs were bandaged up, likely because of her careless running. It hurt her to stand, her legs shaking from the pain. With a whimper, she climbed back into the bed, unable to handle it. ‘I guess that plan will have to wait…’
It didn’t take her long to fall asleep.
And it didn’t take her long to wake up again.
She was plagued with the words Dark Enchantress said to her.
“I don’t have time.”
“Stop bugging me.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“You’re useless.”
‘Useless.’
Useless!
“Golden Cheese Cookie, this is useless.” A deep, cold male voice said, it closer to the bed than a female one. “Nonsense! Everyone likes gifts! Besides, she seems sad.” What on Earthbread were they talking about? She sat up, seeing two more of the ancient heroes. One had magnificent golden wings which got on her nerves. She didn’t know why she felt like that but she did. The two heroes quickly noticed her, the gold one she assumed was Golden Cheese. “Well, look who’s awake!” The ancient said, getting closer to her. The other male hero, who she assumed was Dark Cacao, got slightly closer to her. “How do you feel?”
“Okay.” Matcha stated, crossing her arms.
“Wonderful! We have a little gift for you!” The glittering ancient said, a box in her hand. The darker ancient seemed to want to object before getting silenced gently yet hastily. Placing the box on Matcha’s lap, Golden Cheese backed up to give her much needed space. She opened the box and lifted a decorative box out of it. “…What is it?”
“It’s a music box, dear.” A music box? Dear? Just what was their angle? Matcha carefully opened the intricate metal, revealing a small sculpture of a bunch of faerie cookies circling what looked to be a tree. The Silver Tree, to be exact.
Admittedly, Matcha was struck by its beauty, taking in every single detail. She went to slap Dark Cacao’s hand away when she saw him reach for the device only to retract her hand as he turned a small key on the back. She could hear the clicking of the gears as the small key was turned, waiting almost with bated breath. The music soon started up, the sound full of rhythmic bells and a soft piano. Her eyes focused on the faeries as they were spun around the tree slowly, mimicking a dance. It was something so… trivial at the end of the day, but it had captivated her.
A memory popped into her head, one where she was standing in front of a glass case. Matcha couldn’t have been more than eight at the time, staring up at the contents in cautious awe. Various devices rested inside, some in funny shapes and others looking like fancy boxes. She so desperately wanted to look at one, to hold one for a brief moment, so she carefully went to move the glass.
“Don’t touch those.” Dark Enchantress stood behind her, almost making Matcha jump out of her dough. “They’re expensive. I don’t want a thing like you breaking them or getting them dirty.”
She retracted her hand, looking at the floor in shame. “Sorry Mother…”
Matcha closed the music box as the music slowed, fighting her urge to cry. She traced the butterfly pattern on the top, trying to distract herself. When she looked up, she saw the door to the room slowly close. The other two had left, taking the gift box with them yet leaving her alone with the music box. It was a sweet gesture. Still though, she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it. It reminded her of Dark Enchantress and her collection, of something she could never have. She could almost hear her mother telling her to put it down, to keep her hands off it, but she couldn’t. It was definitely hers, it was her own.
“It’s mine.” She whispered to herself, opening the music box again and admiring all the details. Everything was so beautiful, it was something she couldn’t stop looking at. Every faerie had unique wings, differing hairstyles and even clothing. The clothing, speaking of, was sculpted so well it looked real, almost as if dipped in metal and simply draped on the little figures. She finally noticed a faerie cookie was sitting in the tree. The little faerie had curled bangs and a large bun, her clothing scalloped at the edges. She stood out so much and yet, Matcha hadn’t seen her at first. And yet, she felt vaguely familiar to her. Matcha turned the key, letting the music play again.
No matter how many times she did, she never seemed to tire of the melody. She was mesmerised and almost in love with the music box and its little cookies, of the bells and rhythm of the song that was burned deep into her brain. Regardless, there was always something new she kept noticing about it, a detail she would miss at first like the eyes carved into and hidden within a rift in the tree or the souljams’ shapes that had been littered amongst the scenery like the one of the heart on a cup, or the diamond on the tree-sitting faerie’s chest as if connected to a necklace. So much skill was put into the music box, so much that Matcha almost envied it.
She wanted to make something so beautiful.
She wanted to have her efforts gawked at and appreciated.
She wanted to… try.
To try making something, even if it wasn’t good.
To try and learn something new.
To try something that would impress…
Dark Enchantress?
No.
Herself. She wanted to impress herself. Sure, it would be nice to impress Dark Enchantress, but she mostly wanted to impress herself. What was she really capable of?
Matcha was distracted from her thoughts when-
No, it couldn’t be-
White Lily Cookie.
She had walked into the room, looking at Matcha with concern. “Are you okay, Matcha Cookie?” Her voice was so… soft and sweet, so different to the coldness and apathy (at best) she had grown up knowing. She wanted to cry at the sound of White Lily’s voice alone but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. “I’m fine.” Matcha finally responded, mentally slapping herself when she realised how pathetic she sounded. White Lily turned around, gesturing to someone to come in. Following her friend’s instruction, Hollyberry entered the room. She wasn’t smiling necessarily, but her expression was still warm and welcoming. “Are you feeling okay, sweetie?” The taller ancient approached Matcha, carefully sitting on the bed next to her and pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. “Poor girl… You feel a little warm.” Matcha looked surprised. Was she not supposed to be warm?
Hollyberry felt Matcha’s cheeks next, her touches soft and light. It wasn’t… unpleasant. White Lily soon joined Hollyberry, nodding as if agreeing. “You might have a fever along with your injuries. Perhaps I should go get Nilla.”
On instinct, Matcha grabbed White Lily’s arm. ‘What am I doing!? Let go of her, you idiot!’ She berated herself, swallowing thickly. “Stay… Please..?” The ancient’s eyes looked at her surprised for a moment before softening and filling with warmth, a sweet little smile gracing her face. “Okay, I’ll stay here. Promise.” White Lily carefully removed Matcha’s hand from her arm only to take it into her own, her thumb rubbing the back of Matcha’s hand.
“How about I go get her something to eat?” Hollyberry suggested. “What do you eat, sweetpea? Are you on any diets or anything?”
“Mwehehe… I’m um… I’m vegetarian.” Matcha laughed nervously, blushing a little at the affection. Hollyberry nodded and smiled at her before leaving the room, leaving Matcha and White Lily alone. Her souljam was within her reach! She could probably take it so easily. So she reached for White Lily’s staff only to just be given it. No fight. Nothing. It was literally handed to her. So, she looked at the souljam, trying to formulate a plan. Cracks both big and small littered the gem, glowing ever so faintly before some disappeared right before her eyes.
The souljam was… healing.
She had never seen nor heard of such a thing. The souljams could heal. Resting the staff in her lap, she traced her finger over the largest crack, watching as the glow seemed to follow her movement. “Fascinating, hm?” White Lily asked, giving her hand a light squeeze. “Mhm! I had no clue it could heal like this! Mother never mentioned it.” She saw White Lily grit her teeth in pain, pressing her free hand to her forehead. After a brief moment, she looked at Matcha with what seemed to be regret. “Well… She doesn’t know as much as thinks. Nor does she understand some of what she does know.” That… made sense, actually.
It explained a lot. It explained how she reacted at times. Sometimes she seemed unable to explain certain things about herself, the souljams and even certain details about her research into making cookies. Being split into two is probably why that was the case.
Matcha smiled a little at White Lily. “I can see that being the case.” White Lily smiled back, squeezing her hand a little. “So, how’d you figure out how to make cookies like me?” Her eyes lit up, the souljam even doing the same. The ancient began going into detail about her research, almost as if in a world of her own. She went into detail, her gradually talking faster. Matcha, truth be told, loved it. It was refreshing in a way, having someone talk to her so positively. She squeezed White Lily’s hand and tried to interject at one point, talking about how she tried to do the same. The ancient hero didn’t seem to mind the interruption, listening to Matcha try and explain her thoughts. It was even more refreshing to have someone listen to her, to let her speak her mind and not shut her down. It was amazing.
The music box and healing souljam was basically forgotten as the two spoke, sharing whatever they were thinking about. White Lily told stories of her time in the academy while Matcha told her stories from the Cookies of Darkness. “So you really think they had a thing going on?”
“I saw how they looked at each other! They would smile at each other all the time and hold eye contact for just too long. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they would’ve gotten married.” Matcha shrugged. “Interesting. You know a lot about them but they don’t know anything about you.” She thought about that for a moment. She wasn’t wrong. Matcha had watched the Cookies of Darkness talk and even hang out together but they didn’t really know her. Poison Mushroom hung out with her but she mostly just listened to them. Brute occasionally checked in on her and she’d bond with him purely over how bad their parents were.
But what did they actually know about her?
What did she know about herself?
Before she could respond, Hollyberry returned with a tray of food. “I got you some tea too, dear.” Hollyberry carefully lifted the tray a little, almost as if showing it up. It was piled up with fruit salad, some bread rolls, a pot of jam, some honey and a vegetable soup. That was if Matcha to guess. It certainly smelled and looked delicious, she could feel her mouth watering. She waited until the tray was placed on her lap to let go of White Lily’s hand, picking up a small amount of honey to sweeten her tea before bringing it to her lips. The tea was rich and comforting, the added honey providing the right amount of sweetness. She always enjoyed tea, it was very dear to her. “Thank you!” She looked at Hollyberry, a smile on her face.
“Aww, you’re welcome sweetheart.” Hollyberry gently pat her head, a flicker of concern on her face when Matcha flinched. She found she didn’t mind the affection from Hollyberry, finding it strangely comforting. So, she patted the spot next to her on the bed, as if asking the pink queen to sit next to her. She did so carefully, not wanting to knock Matcha’s food or get her dress too tangled up. “How was she, Lily?”
“She’s a lot like me, actually.” White Lily giggled, patting Matcha on the head gently too. “She even shares an interest in how we are created like me.” Hollyberry laughed a soft, fond laugh, looking at the other ancient. Matcha looked at White Lily too, eating her soup as she took in what she said.
‘She’s a lot like me.’
Matcha didn’t quite understand what White Lily meant at first. Them sharing an interest couldn’t be enough for her to be similar to her, could it? She brought her spoon to her mouth, watching White Lily’s hands. She saw her fiddle with her arm covers, much in the same way Matcha filled with her sleeves. White Lily had a few spots of freckles on her dough, much like Matcha did. The ancient’s two top front teeth were slightly crooked and Matcha had the same, albeit mirrored. A lot of White Lily’s mannerisms and even some of her visible attributes were the same as hers. Combine all that with their interest in the creation of cookies and there was definitely a resemblance. Of course, there were a lot of differences, but there was certainly enough for Matcha.
“We really are alike.” She said after swallowing her soup. White Lily and Hollyberry looked at her, White Lily’s eyes full of a fondness she wasn’t used to. The bandaged hands of the floral flavoured heroine cupped her cheeks, making her look at her. She took in every one of Matcha’s features, a soft smile on her face and her gaze powerful but loving. “Yeah, I see it.” Hollyberry said. “She could be your daughter, Lily.”
“She really could be, couldn’t she?” White Lily hesitated before pressing a gentle kiss to Matcha’s forehead. Matcha felt herself tear up, overwhelmed with joy. She didn’t care when her food was moved off her lap, the feeling of such a simple gesture still lingering.
“M-Mother!” She threw her arms around White Lily, crying into her neck and shoulder from her sheer joy. The ancient returned the hug, gently shushing her as she stroked her hair. Hollyberry soon hugged them both, her head resting against White Lily’s.
“It’s okay.” Both ancients said in unison.
Now Matcha recognised the two voices from her nightmare. The two ancients were the sources. And they were just as soothing as they were in her head. Warmth enveloped her, seeping into her core and soothing her very soulcore.
It was all she ever dreamed of.