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Time flew by fast.
It's been years since the incident, yet the wounds are still fresh.
Dark Cacao ached whenever he looked at himself in the mirror, staring at the long, jagged scar that extended from his shoulder to his torso. It served as a reminder of his failures, of how he had failed his son, his wonderful and caring son.
He'd often spend several minutes just staring at the scarred dough in the mirror, wondering what he could have done differently, better.
His son could have been happy and safe, but because of his own failures, that wasn't a future Dark Cacao could live in.
It was shocking to know that a simple scar could dictate his life, making him second-guess his every word, his every action. It was funny.
Funny that this one scar made him pause before making a decision, asking himself if his son would like his choice.
The sight of the scar made him sick.
It was born from his son's own hatred, from the slash the prince made with his sword, attempting to end his life. Just looking at it reminded him of that day, the blaze of hatred in his son's strawberry colored eyes, unyielding and all-consuming.
He was poisonous, he found out. Everyone who got close to him suffered immensely as the poison of his words and thoughts sank its claws into their dough and mind, corrupting them. Even when he kept them at arm's length, nothing could escape the poison.
His son was a prime example of that.
Despite caring for him and holding him like the most precious thing in the world, the idea of hurting his boy frightened him. So he pushed him away, keeping the boy at arm's length. After all, avoiding a venomous bite is easy when you keep your distance.
But it seemed that that plan failed, too.
His kingdom needed his help, and he intended to serve, but in the process, he lost the one thing he cared about, having not shown him the unconditional love his wonderful son deserved.
He failed not only his son, but his kingdom as well.
All because of fear.
His scar and the wound it was born from were his punishment, a reminder that he had failed once before.
He didn't intend to fail again.
Even if those he unintentionally hurt never wanted to see him again, the king wanted – needed – to right his wrongs.
They deserved at least that much.
And out of all the ones who were hurt, his son was the one who deserved his apology the most.
Even if the boy didn't accept it, Dark Cacao needed to make up for everything.
For the lack of love and care he gave his son.
For unjustly banishing him.
For saying those vile words to him when they crossed paths once more.
He'd never allow himself to rest if he also failed that.
His soul jam made sure of it.
As long as the soul jam stayed with him, he could never crumble via natural means. Conditional immortality was a heavy burden to bear, yet Dark Cacao held firm. If only to apologize or reconcile, Dark Cacao refused to die until he accomplished his goal. Only when everything he could do was done, then maybe he could finally rest among the stars.
Maybe then, he could welcome death with open arms.
A loud knock echoed throughout his study.
His brows furrowed. No one informed him of a potential meeting, yet he saw no reason to dismiss the noise.
“Come in,” Dark Cacao sighed.
The sliding doors separated from one another, revealing Caramel Arrow. She looked calm, meaning no emergency was occurring at the moment. In her hand was a letter, somewhat wrinkled and dirty. “My king,” she greeted, bowing respectfully.
“Caramel Arrow Cookie? What brings you here?” He asked, eyeing the letter. He didn't know why, but he felt drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.
“We found this letter addressed to you slid under the main gates. There is no sender, however… the handwriting is similar to the prince’s,” Caramel Arrow admitted, looking down at the letter before extending it to the King.
His breath caught as he reached out to grab it, his hand trembling. He held the letter gently, like the smallest amount of force would cause the paper to disappear. Dark Cacao didn't want to hope just to be let down, but as his thumb traced the lines of his name in that familiar handwriting, he thought that just maybe, it was fine to hope.
“You are dismissed, First Watcher,” he exhaled, voice shaky, placing the letter down on his desk.
The woman nodded, her eyes locked onto the letter for a moment longer before she turned and left, the door sliding closed behind her.
He was alone now, staring at the letter intently, as if it would tell him all of its secrets. A large, yet childish part of him hesitated to open the letter, fearing that the letter would only bring him more pain. His son was dear to him, even if the boy didn't know it, and he knew deep inside that the contents of this letter would either make or break him.
He decided to bite the bullet.
Grabbing the letter, he took out a hairpin his son had gifted him so many years ago, and carefully sliced the top of it, making sure not to damage the paper inside. The hairpin made a small click as he put it down, his hand trembling as he reached to pick the paper out. Unfolding the paper, hope bloomed in his chest as he looked at the handwriting.
It was his son. He knew it.
Dear Appa,
Writing this is something I wasn't sure I could do. I always hesitated, and when I did start writing, the words never sounded right. However, I cannot delay this any longer. My fear mustn't hold me back any longer.
First off, I am sorry. Even if I was under the influence of the Strawberry Jam Sword, I should never have allowed it to go as far as it did. The incident at the Citadel opened my eyes, removing the rose-tinted lenses I had over my eyes. This world is much more complicated than I originally thought it to be.
Second, the words you said to me, apologizing for the love you failed to show me. Did you mean it? Do you genuinely feel remorseful about it? My heart clenches knowing that maybe our imperfect past does not have to hold us back anymore.
Would you like to meet up at the spot we made in three days time? The one where we looked toward the sky and you listed all the constellations?
Maybe, if the witches grant me this wish, under the shimmering stars, we can reforge our relationship and forgive the past.
Sincerely,
Dark Choco
Dark Cacao exhaled shakily, his eyes watering as he brought the letter to his forehead. A large smile graced his face, his emotions running on an all-time high.
His son wanted to see him.
He closed his eyes as a tear slid down his cheek, the joy too much for him to contain. Taking a few deep breaths, he placed the letter down, wiping his face of his tears. He prayed the witches would allow him this as he left his study, the smile ever-present on his face.
Three days later, when he finally saw his son once more, as he held the boy in his arms, mumbling reassurances in his ear while tears slid down his face, he looked up at the stars and mentally thanked the witches.
He was happy for the first time in years.
Even death couldn't take him away from this.
In the quiet recesses of his mind, he thought that maybe resting among the stars could wait just a little longer.