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The Vanilla Kingdom is very nice.
Idyllic, even, thinks Dark Choco Cookie as they take a small bite from the raisin bun in their hand. It had been abruptly shoved into their hand after helping a local move some decorations, despite them repeatedly saying they needed no reward for doing something so small. Then the cookie had looked at them so sadly that they had no choice but to take it. To be fair, it didn't taste too bad.
How the kingdom can be rebuilt in a matter of months, they don't know. They vaguely recognised the cookie that gave them the bun, then with a sharp spike of guilt realise that they fought that cookie when… she had occupied the castle. The villagers from below weren't strong individually, but worked together seamlessly as a unit. It's a miracle they weren't recognised - even with their hood, their missing eye is a clear indicator of their identity.
They stick to the outskirts as best they can, idly watching the locals bustle around the plaza, preparing for… something. The decorations they had delivered were being put to good use around the statue of the king himself, Pure Vanilla Cookie. The area is already beautifully decorated, but evidently not enough. The flowers at the statue's base, lit by the soft orange sunset look magnificent. Spotting Gingerbrave flitting around the statue, they duck into an alley. Even if the young cookie saw them discard that accursed sword, he may still be suspicious of them. They don't want to attract any attention to themself. Perhaps the best course of action would be to see what else the kingdom has to offer.
The bridges linking the islands together are (thankfully) very sturdy, a quick glance over the edge reminding one of why they need to be so sturdy. Continuing past the island that had a building with a sign featuring a flower with an eye - a vanilla orchid, if they remember rightly - they are greeted by an inn. The cookie from before highly recommended said inn, claiming that its signature crow feather beds were softer than a cloud. "No really!" they had claimed, eyes sparkling, "The king slept there himself and was conked out for fourteen hours!"
Disregarding the king's… concerning sleeping habits, they had no intention of staying there tonight. Far too many cookies. Two cookies stumble out of the doors, clinging to each other for support and howling with laughter. And… far too many drunkards. A dense thicket of trees to keep hidden would do them nicely for the night.
Speaking of, the garden would provide them with shelter. They elect to explore there next.
---
Fireflies dance above the powder blue hydrangeas, the soft flow of the fountain audible in the background. Dark Choco had admittedly gotten a little sidetracked simply admiring the garden - without a certain something whispering in their ear, they've found they spend a lot more time just... observing things. Especially nature - watching the inner workings of the natural world is how they've spent many days.
"…Who stands in my way!"
Warrior instincts kick in and they duck behind a tree for cover. That voice is very familiar and while they hope that father would not see them as an enemy, they don't look exactly… innocent right now. They chance a look to find see father… threatening a tree?
"You dare to attack?!" he snaps, unsteadily brandishing his blade, "Go ahead, challenge me!" The tree does not react. Dark Choco blinks. Once. Twice.
Is he drunk?
They jump as Hollyberry Cookie laughs uproariously, slapping him on the back. Were all of the great heroes here? Was that what all the decorations for? A reunion? They had truly come to the Vanilla Kingdom at the worst time. They should probably leave before they're noticed.
A stick snaps as they step back. They curse under their breath as father's head whips around to face them. He sways slightly and points his sword in their direction. "…Show yourself!"
Hollyberry laughs again. "I see you've found Ser Tree's friend! I think you might have-"
Father grumbles in frustration. "That's… not a tree! It's… something else…"
They take their cue to retreat into the woodland as Hollyberry hums disbelievingly. They think they hear father yell as they go, but they're far too focused on getting away. If he's truly drunk, he won't be able to track them. Weaving through the undergrowth, they come to a small clearing to catch their breath. Letting go of the sword has made them weaker, and their leg injury from fending off a group of ginkgoblins isn't helping. They just need a minute…
Unsteady steps crash through the bushes. Looks like they won't be getting that minute. They go to dart away, but are interrupted by a shooting pain up their leg. Father stumbles into the clearing as they hiss in pain. He stares at them wordlessly. Then, steps forward and grips their shoulder. Stares at his hand on their shoulder. Stares at them.
"Dark Choco Cookie… you're you…!"
What? "I'm… me…?"
He laughs - laughs - and grips their other shoulder. "Yes! You're you and you're here and… and you're healthy…" Then, before they can even attempt to formulate a response, he pulls them into a hug.
If they weren't so incredibly confused, they might have cried.
Up close, they can definitely smell the berry juice that he had presumably been drinking. It's a pretty heavy scent - how much did he have? Enough to stop being so serious around them. As if to punctuate this, father lets out a bone-deep sigh and leans most of his weight onto them. His grip tightens and he lets out a contented hum. They wince slightly as his armour digs into them and tries to subtly escape - the length of this hug was getting a little uncomfortable. Father seems to sense this and pulls back, but still keeps his grip on one of their shoulders.
He squints and looks them up and down. They squirm slightly under his scrutinizing gaze - what is he looking for? His eyes land on their - admittedly sloppily - bandaged leg and his face crumples. "You're hurt…"
"I-It's on its way to healing, nothing to worry ab-"
"Nonsense! Pure Vanilla Cookie will have it healed in no time!" His previous sorrow is suddenly replaced by a steadfast determination and he begins striding off with purpose, dragging Dark Choco along with him.
They struggle to find a way to stop father from essentially parading them - an ex cookie of darkness - through the kingdom they once helped to destroy. "I, ah, I think that Pure Vanilla may be asleep by now, father…" Also, even with their own abysmal sense of direction and eyesight, they're fairly certain this was not the way to the castle.
"Oh." He stops suddenly, staring up at the night sky. "I suppose it is rather… late." He seems to think for a moment, still holding their wrist. "Then the least you could do is rest it!" They let out an undignified yelp as he abruptly plops to the ground, them subsequently dropping with him. Their bag lands harshly next to them, thank goodness nothing breakable is in there. Trying to avoid hurting their leg any further, they shift into a better sitting position. Might as well get comfortable.
Father hums happily, swaying back and forth to a song only he can hear. "You know, when I first saw you in the trees, I thought I was hallucinating. Isn't that strange? I only hallucinate under stress and this is the most relaxed I've been in years, decades maybe!" His gaze lands on them. It's fond. "I am glad you're not a hallucination. Did you know that hallucinations are a side effect of the Strawberry Jam Sword? I had some priests run some tests on it after you left it in the citadel - I doubt you would have minded." Seeming to remember himself, he looks… apologetic? "Ah… perhaps you wouldn't want to think about that accursed thing. Should I move onto another topic?"
Their brain is still grappling with the idea of father having hallucinations. "I… don't mind…"
Father barrels on anyways. "That sword is interesting, but I've found appreciation in even the simplest of weapons!" He pulls out a knife from somewhere in his armour. "See this dagger? I only have it on me as a last resort but it still has some intricacies!" He flips it around so that he holds it by its blade - they suppress the urge to scold him, that's dangerous - and shows them the handle. If they squint very hard, they can just about make out a snakelike figure carved onto the wooden handle before father pulls it back to admire it again. "The smith engraved each of the Black and White Dragons on each side of the handle! They have managed to distinguish the two on such a small scale as well - the Black Dragon has more filled in to imply a darker shade, isn't that incredible?" He flips it back around so that he's holding it correctly. "Even the blade, straight edged as it is, shows a degree of craftsmanship. The smith likely would have had forge and reforge and then use a grindstone - hello Hollyberry - then use a grindstone to ensure the edge stays straight and sharp, taking endless patience. Didn't you know a blacksmith when you were younger? Maybe you could ask her..."
Dark Choco tunes out father's rambling to stare, bewildered, at Hollyberry as she strides through some brambles towards the pair. She grins as she spots father's hand firmly holding their wrist. "So that's where he wandered off to!" she chuckles, "Thought you'd managed to get yourself kidnapped."
"I would never," he stops rambling look at her, affronted, "Drop my guard enough to allow myself to get kidnapped!"
She puts her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow. "Of course." She grabs his empty hand and attempts to tug him to his feet. "Up you get, old man! I think you've had enough for tonight. Help me out here, Choccy!"
They blink. Choccy? Then they register the rest of what she said and scrambles to help, shouldering their bag at the same time. Father, combined with his armour and the Grapejam Chocoblade, is heavy and he's being enormously unhelpful by leaning most of his weight on to Dark Choco instead of the much stronger Hollyberry.
Hollyberry huffs, tugging him closer to her, "Reckon you should let go 'em grandpa. We're not gettin' any-"
"No." They grunt in surprise as father tightens his grip on them, tight enough that they swear they hear a crack. "I am not letting them go. Not... not again..."
"That's…" There's strong pity in Hollyberry's voice. She looks at him, concerned, before coming to a conclusion of some kind. "…alright, bud. Let's just get you back to your tent."
The group walks in silence from then on. The beautiful garden gives way to a flat patch of dirt with a group of highly familiar tents. They can't help but let an amused huff under their breath - those are the exact tents that they used whenever they had to leave the kingdom: they could even spot the one they had accidentally shot an arrow through and subsequently patched up with very ill-fitting fabric. They idly wondered which poor soul got the tent with a pink rose patterned patch.
As the group gets closer, Dark Choco quickly realises that, despite the time, not everyone in the camp is asleep. They faintly recognise Crunchy Chip Cookie in the distance, much older than they last saw him, tending to a frightened cream wolf. For the sake of father's dignity, the tamer needs to be distracted. Tapping on her shoulder, they hurriedly communicate this to Hollyberry. She barks out a laugh, clapping them on the shoulder. "If it was up to me, I'd let him embarrass himself, but I'll indulge you Choccy!" She begins to stride off but stops, looking back at them. "Actually…" They have no chance to prepare before they're wrapped in the tightest hug they've ever experienced, even with her having to manoeuvre around father. She pulls back, smiling at them warmly. "Do your favourite auntie a favour and stick around until tomorrow, hm? Me and Pure Vanilla will want to see you and I'm willing to bet that your old man missed you more than words could say! Even if he's not great at showing it!"
They swallow and nod, not trusting their voice. She gives them a final pat on the shoulder before walking off towards Crunchy Chip, chatting away once she reaches him. They wait until he's firmly distracted before they set off towards father's tent. Despite his protests, his tent is slightly grander than the rest, being a little larger and having extra decoration. He had fought against the difference, stating that he needed no more comfort than the rest, but had ended up with the current design thanks to the unanimous decision of the staff in the citadel to keep the planned changes. They were very thankful for that, as they didn’t have to squint too much to find his tent.
The walk is somewhat difficult with father trying his best to walk, but he instead repeatedly stumbles and almost takes them both down a number of times. He has also gone back to rambling about the intricacies of weapon making - right now he's talking about the best type of wood to use to make a bow. Which, they won't lie, sounds very interesting - however they are far more focused on getting him to bed.
Finally, finally, they make it to the tent. They're about ready to drop father on his bedroll and vanish into the night but father still won't let go. He seems to at least recognise he should go to sleep, but instead of the actual going to sleep routine he lies down on his bedroll - armour and all - and shuts his eyes. Now sat next to him on the ground, they sigh and rub their temples. They try in vain to free their arm and only succeed in having father move his grip to their ankle. At least this was a little better, they can stand and untie the tent flaps now. After they tie the flaps closed they return to sitting on the ground.
Sighing again, they resign themself to a long night. They'd like to think that father may naturally let go during the night, but his grip only seems to tighten as he actually falls asleep.
They dig out a block of wood and a small knife. Might as well get busy.
---
Blinding light. Mouth dry as a desert. And the worst headache he's ever had in his life.
Dark Cacao Cookie would love nothing more than to block out the world forever, but he is here on official business so he has to get up. Especiallly after...
...after...
...what was he doing last night?
He should get up. Then think about that. When his brain starts working again. He lets go of what he was holding... he was holding something? He opens his eyes again - when had he shut them? - to see that he was holding someone's leg? He blinks, bemused, before recognising the cookie the leg belongs to.
His son, head tucked to their chest, sleeps sitting up next to him. A half carved block of wood sits in one of their hands, their other hand holding the knife used to do said carving. When did they...?
Stop getting distracted. He has a meeting later, he needs to get up.
As he pulls himself to a sitting position, he is rewarded with his headache spiking. While he tries - and fails - to suppress a groan, Dark Choco stirs and blinks themself awake. Occupied with trying not to make his headache worse, he doesn't notice the thermos they're offering until it's being placed directly in his hands. "Drink. You're thirsty."
He is very thirsty. He takes the thermos with a muttered thanks, sounding more akin to a half-dead crow than his usual self. This water may as well be the nectar of the gods. They busy themself with putting away their belongings into what looks like a cloth sack while he downs the water.
He finishes with a sigh. "...good morning."
"...good afternoon."
What.
"Th-The meeting...!" He scrambles to get up and ready, how could he be so careless-
"...is not until the evening, relax." Dark Choco lays a firm hand on his armoured shoulder - he had fallen asleep in his armour?! - and pushes him back to a sitting position. "I believe Lady Hollyberry has explained your morning absence. Something about reacting badly to the food..." They notice his frown at that and rolls their eye. "...would you rather she told everyone you are hungover?"
"...no." he sighs, massaging his temples. It seems this headache won't go away. Dark Choco rises to their feet and slings their bag over their shoulder, making towards the back of the tent. His mouth moves before his brain does. "Where are you going?"
They look at him as if he's asking the most obvious question on Earthbread. "...leaving? I am not exactly... welcome here." They crouch and lift part of the tent, clearly aiming to attract the least attention possible. "I was planning on leaving during the night, but you wouldn't let me go..." They make to slide under the canvas.
His heart rises to his throat. "Wait," he manages, "I..." They turn and look at him, something questioning in their eye.
Say something.
Say something.
I miss you. Where have you been? I'm sorry. Please come home.
"...Pure Vanilla will want to see you," he murmurs, eventually, "So will Hollyberry." I want to see you.
Their grip tightens on the canvas as they stare at the ground, cogs turning in their head. Witches, he wants them to stay. At least for the day - knowing them, they've been running on fumes for months, keeping themself alive in the wilderness. One day's rest will be plenty. They stand.
"...I'll stay."