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Cuphead slowly crept around the kitchen as quietly as possible. His feet were careful to avoid tripping on any stray objects and boxes strewn across the ground. Shaky hands fingered through wooden bins and brown clay jars of food, each tightly packaged to keep any unwanted bugs and pests from getting to it. The dim light of his candle did little to help him pick out the details of the dark pantry.
Eventually his eyes picked out a barrel of apples set in the far corner of the room. Around it were similar bins of other produce: potatoes, carrots, pears and some imported goods from other countries. He snatched an apple from the top of the barrel and grabbed a small loaf of bread off of one of the shelves as he slipped out the pantry door.
Hurrying to get back to bed before the guards realized he ever left, Cup walked around the island counter towards the door clutching his candlestick and (kinda) stolen goods close to his chest. If cup’s memory served correctly, of which it oftentimes did, the guards on their nightly rounds should be just down the hallway, another set of guards several paces behind the first. The tricky part would be getting past those guards. Then he’d need to cross the courtyard and climb the trell-
“Going somewhere?”
Cup let out a -very deep and very dignified- shriek as he whirled around to meet the voice. With his sudden movements he felt his candle began to tip and he quickly fell into a battle with the objects in his arms, barely managing to keep his candlestick upright while keeping a hand on his food at the same time.
It took a second of comical fumbling, before Cup eventually managed to not drop the candlestick, at the sacrifice of dropping his food. If someone later asked why his skin was a little red on his hand from the melted wax, well that was his business, thank you.
Once he had his candlestick under control, he looked up to see his father’s advisor, Dice. The older man leaned against the doorway of one of the kitchen entrances, arms crossed, dark eyes glinting in the dim light. A smirk split across his face, like a younger sibling that had just caught the older doing something wrong. (Which, let’s face it, what else is new?)
“Now, what’s a little prince like you doing here with stolen food after bedtime?” The man mused as he pushed off the door he was leaning against, sauntering around the island table that separated the two of them.
“I’m- I’m just here for a snack, Dice,” Cup stuttered. “I’m not trying to bother anyone,” he tacked on the end. His confidence quickly left him with each step that Dice took. The boy’s shoulders hiked up as he shrunk in on himself. He tried to look anywhere but Dice’s smug gaze.
“Now, now, young Prince,” Dice frowned. “Stealing food from the kitchen just because, what, you think you’re hungry? Besides, you and I both know that your physician put you on a very strict diet, yes? You can’t go around going against doctor’s orders, now can you?” Dice’s heavy hand grabbed Cup’s shoulder in a tight grip. An easy grin spread across the older man’s face as if they were in a casual conversation. “What even is the point of eating if you can’t even keep it down in the first place? We both know it’ll end up on the floor within the hour. Why waste perfectly good food? Or bother the maids who’ll have to clean the mess up?” Cuphead looked away at that.
Dice glared down at the fruit and bread now on the floor in disdain. He nudged the apple with the toe of his nice shoes and watched it roll lazily in the dust. “Well, you’ve wasted it now either way,” he grumbled. Cup’s eyes darted away from the ruined food as shame bubbled up in his gut. Quickly his mind thought of ways to fix it. To make him feel a little less guilty. Maybe he could just make it up to the head Chef later for ruining her food? He could try arrange a way to replace the old food? Or perhaps Granny would prefer he get her something? Maybe a new book to read to her? More knitting needles and yarn? Maybe he could knit her something new?
Before Cup could go down a rabbit hole of remorse, Dice clapped him on the back and began to guide him out of the kitchen. “Come, let’s get you back to bed, boy. All this excitement can’t be good for your poor health. And you best not inconvenience the cooks anymore” He didn’t even spare a glance at the food left on the ground when he responded with, “We’ll leave the food there. The staff will pick it back up in the morning, yes?” Cup silently nodded as he let Dice push him towards the door.
Barely even a step in and a loud voice echoed in the mostly empty room. “What’s with all the ruckus in here?!” Granny’s voice demanded. She must have been asleep before because she was dressed in a simple nightgown, brandishing her wooden cane and a half melted candlestick attached to a crudely fashioned iron grip for light. Cup felt that little swirl of shame start to carve a hole in his stomache when he realized that he must have woken her up.
Cuphead began to stutter through a response before Dice interrupted. “The boy was just headed off to bed, Mrs. Gopher. Couldn’t keep his fingers to himself. We’ll be lea-“
“I wasn’t asking YOU.” The old woman interjected. Calmly she turned her expectant gaze to Cuphead who, at the moment, wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else. His guilt was slowly and thoroughly eating away at his stomach, and his mind whirled with dark, remorseful thoughts. Embarrassment crept up his throat and, gods. Why couldn’t the world just swallow him whole?
Biting his lip and stuffing his hands in his pockets, Cuphead muttered out a response. “I just came down here for a snack. It-it was just some fruit and bread and I dropped it on the ground. I’m really sorry for sneaking out and taking the food without asking, Granny. I-“
“All you wanted was a snack?” Granny sighed softly, effectively cutting off Cup’s pathetic attempt at an apology. She shuffled further into the kitchen, rolled back her sleeves and set her candlestick down on the table. “You should have said so. I would have made you something.” She had begun to pull out some ingredients from the pantry and set them down on the table.
“N-now see here, Mrs. Gopher,” spluttered Dice as he walked around the island table to stop the older woman. “The doctor made it VERY clea-“ Dice stumbled back as a wooden spatula, from stars knows where, was suddenly shoved into his face. The old gopher glared at the taller man, her face twisted in a scowl.
“I don’t give a flying leap what you or that old kook Oddswell says. If that boy is hungry, then dammit he’s allowed to get something to eat.” She barked with a stomp of her cane. “Stars knows he doesn’t get enough as it is. So, if he’s up to it, then I see nothing wrong with giving him something to snack on.” Dice’s eyes narrowed in a challenging glare. The two stubbornly locked into a glare contest for a moment before Granny decidedly whipped her spatula to point at a startled Cuphead.
“Your Highness. Be is known that you are allowed, at any time, to take anything from the kitchen to snack on. If anyone says otherwise then they will have to talk with me. Yes?”
Cuphead squeaked out a small “Yes, ma’am,” before Granny went back to work cutting up some fruit and plating in a small glass bowl.
“I’ll escort him to bed, Mr. Dice. You can leave now,” she dismissed, not even looking up from the fruit she was cutting up.
Dice looked like he very much wanted to both argue and strangle her while also looking remarkably baffled. Though he mostly achieved a very constipated expression. At some point he managed to steel himself. He smoothed out the front of his purple tunic and straightened out his ridiculous mustache. “Very well, Mrs. Gopher,” Dice grit between his teeth. “I’ll be going, then.” He gave a small strained bow to Cuphead and a (barely) polite nod to Granny before briskly walking out the kitchen entrance.
Now that Dice was gone the kitchen was plunged into silence, the only thing breaking it was the occasional echoing chop of Granny’s knife and the sound of retreating footsteps down the hallway. If he listened really hard he could maybe make out horses and soldiers from the late night patrol walking about outside.
Although the silence didn’t help much with his ever present guilty thoughts.
While Cup appreciated Granny advocating for him and giving him permission to eat any time, he couldn’t help but still feel bad. He shouldn’t have assumed that just because he’s the prince that it’s ok to take food. It’s not his to begin with. How inconsiderate is that? And dropping the food to boot? Mugman wouldnt of done something like that. Granny won’t be able to use and serve it in the meals she and the cooks prepare. He made a waste of perfectly good food. He wished beyond wished to be able to magically go back in time. Just to fix it. To tell his younger self to swipe food at dinner rather than skipping it altogether. Or even better yet, never getting out of bed at all.
It was so so stupid. It was so inconsequential, just dropping some food. The logical side of him knew that. He knew not to dwell on it. He knew it. He knew it. He knew it. He knew that loosing an apple amongst the literal other barrels full meant next to nothing. Damnit, it was unimportant. It. Meant. Nothing. But why couldn’t he stop thinking about it? Why did he still feel the shame and remorse turning in his stomach. The dark thoughts whirling around his head of: fix it. Cussing FIX it. He already apologized (somewhat). Granny said it was ok. But it’s not enough. Just saying sorry isn’t enough. It’s just an apple but it’s still all his fault. He-
A glass being pushed into his vision knocked him out of that thought process and delayed his inevitable emotional breakdown. Granny offered up a glass of water and a bowl of cut fruit, a few slices of buttered bread, and small pieces of cheese, in his face. Her expression was softer than the one she had when Dice was in the room, this one was kind, understanding. If Cup had looked into it a bit more, probably slightly worried?
Cup took a hold of the offered glass and bowl with shaking hands (since when were they shaking?). He began taking small sips of water and nibbled on an apple slice as Granny worked on putting the leftover food back in the pantry.
They sat in comfortable silence as Cuphead watched Granny shuffle around the kitchen, tidying up little things, wiping down countertops and making sure food was secured away for the night. He did, of course, offer to help her, but that was quickly shot down and she demanded he sit and eat his food while she cleaned up a bit. So. He huffed. And he sat. And he ate. Silently.
“Best not to let what he says get to you,” Granny’s voice suddenly rang across the room at some point. When Cuphead didn’t respond she looked up from what she was doing and their eyes met. Something akin to doubt must have been in his expression, because Granny put down what she was doing and hobbled over with a very serious expression. She leaned against the counter with a sigh. “I’m sorry that man treats you the way he does. He has absolutely no right to.”
Cup shrugged half-heartedly as he turned his attention to pushing his snack around inside the bowl. Anything to not look at Granny’s very serious expression. “It’s not that bad,” the prince muttered softly. “He’s just trying to look out for me. It’s fine.”
“What he’s doing is not looking out for you,” Granny softly argued. She idly ran her fingers along the head of her cane. Feeling the groves in the old wood. “He’s being a bully. Especially to you. You can’t let him take advantage of you.”
Cuphead only gave another half-hearted shrug as he shoved some fruit in his mouth, not wanting to talk on the subject anymore. Granny sighed, slightly disappointed, when she realized that the prince didn’t want to talk. She simply placed a small, weathered hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze as she went back to work.
Despite what you’d think for a woman of her age, Granny finished her tasks quickly and before Cup knew it, the pair was making their way through the grounds to the Prince’s room.
They were stopped a few times by some guards on occasion, mostly them asking what the prince was doing out at the time, why Granny was with them, that sort of thing. But generally, Cuphead and Granny were left alone to travel to the Prince’s room.
Cuphead, as soon as he walked into his bedroom, set the bowl and glass on the wooden nightstand by his bed, and climbed underneath the silken covers of his bed. Granny shuffled to sit in her usual rocking chair that sat in the corner of the room, right next to Cuphead’s bed by a tall stain glass window that overlooked the courtyard.
She rooted through a large wicker basket Cup kept next to the rocking chair. In it held several balls of yarn of different colors and textures and extra knitting needles. He always kept some in his room for moments like these when she decided to stay in Cup’s room.
“Are you staying here tonight?” Cup asked as he finished off his snack and water. He shimmied around the mass of pillows of various sizes. Trying to find an arrangement that supported his aching body the best. He always had trouble falling and staying asleep.
“Just till you fall asleep,” Granny replied simply as she quickly settled on a ball of a light bluish-gray yarn, grabbed the extra needles, and began a new project. Something for her to work on absentmindedly.
“Thanks” Cuphead responded as he tried to shift to a much more comfortable position. Granny only hummed in response as she continued to work on her little project. It looked something like a little square. A coaster maybe? The beginnings of a hat?
Cup was never sure. He rarely got to see the finished product of any of Granny’s projects. He’s long since given up trying to figure it out.
Cuphead fell asleep to the sound of the chair rocking, granny’s occasional humming, and the click of knitting needles.
-
Two hours later the food he ate ended up on the floor.
Dice was right.