Archive of Our Own ^beta

Shadow Milk, having only recently gotten used to becoming an effective citizen of the Vanilla Kingdom himself, catches wind of the revival of an old event after overhearing some of the castle staff chatting about it, clearly excited. Curious, he spends the rest of his day flitting between shadows, eavesdropping on every conversation he manages to catch about it. The more he learns, the more perplexed he feels.

He never imagined the people of the Vanilla Kingdom would engage in duels to decide who gets to marry the King, even a former one. To marry Pure Vanilla, the one cookie he knows who loves everyone and everything with his whole being, enough that it was somehow extended to Shadow Milk himself.

Even more baffling, he spotted Pure Vanilla quietly sitting in on a meeting clearly intending to hash out details for the festival’s preparations, and he just sat there, nodding with that ever-pleasant smile the whole time. It was as if he were completely unbothered about the concept that he might be married off, just like that. His only contributing comment, at least that Shadow Milk heard, was about what flowers he wanted on the floral wreath he would be wearing the day of the tournament.

To Shadow Milk, the most surprising thing is that Pure Vanilla would even want to get married. He always seemed completely ambivalent to the idea. Or, perhaps Shadow Milk simply made an assumption on his own. 

Either way, ever since learning what the tournament is for, he’s felt this strange, heavy weight in his chest weighing him down well into the night.

He’s thankful that Pure Vanilla is busy, as it means he can avoid being asked to join the former king for dinner. This ends up being a double edged sword, however, as it only reminds him of why Pure Vanilla is busy, and his mood sours all over again. Instead of dwelling on it too much, he starts plotting instead.

Shadow Milk can’t let some random cookie swoop in and claim to be good enough to marry Pure Vanilla himself, just because they can swing a sword around better than any other participants. While his primary mode of combat is through spells and magic, Shadow Milk isn’t a slouch when it comes to swords either. In fact, he invented a few styles of swordplay back in the day. If it really came down to it, maybe Shadow Milk should just compete in the tournament himself and sweep aside the rest of the competition. That would discourage would-be suitors from thinking they have an easy way into Pure Vanilla’s life.

He pauses, a grin slowly spreading over his face. 

Yes, that’s not a bad idea at all. He will need to be subtle, craft a new guise to fly under the radar so no one suspects who it is that’s really running the show, but that will be merely a trifle for him. The truly difficult part will be keeping himself restricted to a certain set of skills so as not to raise suspicion.

He is nothing if not a picture perfect actor, able to craft an endless number of personas for any occasion, so he will manage one way or another. Still, it’s been a while since he’s done anything like this. If nothing else, it will be a fun challenge.

The eve of the festival, Pure Vanilla is once again busy with preparations. He greets Shadow Milk in the morning, apologetic over having to miss a shared breakfast, but he waves the other cookie off. Pure Vanilla hesitates, looking a little confused as his hands tighten around his staff, but ultimately nods and turns to go about his day.

Now that he’s alone, Shadow Milk can get his own preparations ready by crafting the perfect persona.

He retreats to his personal quarters, given to him by Pure Vanilla the day he started living in the Vanilla Kingdom, and immediately makes a beeline for the large mirror, scepter in hand.

“Hmm,” he muses aloud to himself, “let’s see… I’ll need something subtle, less eye-catching… But still stylish and refined. And it needs to catch Nilly’s eye.”

Shadow Milk flicks his scepter, starting with his clothes. He has a few ideas already, but the first few outfits he tries are too bright, or ill-fitted for combat entirely. Definitely not what Pure Vanilla would like, either.

Eventually, he huffs and settles on something plain, a pale blue shirt and white pants to act as a neutral palette so he can switch gears and try altering his hair and dough instead.

As he’s rapidly shifting his hair through different colors and shapes, a brief knock on his door brings him out of his concentration. He turns in time to see Black Sapphire open the door slightly and peek inside.

“Master Shadow Milk Cookie—” he starts, then cuts himself off with a blink.

“What is it?” Shadow Milk says distractedly, turning back to the mirror and flicking through a few more colors. He decides to settle on a pale blond for his hair, not quite as pale as Pure Vanilla’s, then starts turning his head side to side and alternating hairstyles he can’t decide between.

Black Sapphire clears his throat and steps into his room. “Master Shadow Milk Cookie,” he starts again, “I suspect you have heard of the festival taking place soon?”

Shadow Milk turns and gives him a stare. “Of course I have. Festival runs for a few days, there’s a big tournament; it’s all anyone’s talking about.”

“Yes, of course,” Black Sapphire nods quickly. “I simply wished to ask if you were planning anything for it. I have been asked to serve as an announcer for the tournament, and may be unavailable that day.”

Shadow Milk’s eyes narrow, tasting the faint wisp of a lie in the statement. He doesn’t call it out immediately, instead gesturing to himself. “What do you think I’m doing all this for?”

Black Sapphire’s head tilts. “Usually when you are crafting a new face, it’s for purposes other than festivals. Is this anything you’d like mine or Candy Apple’s help with?”

Shadow Milk scoffs, turning back to the mirror and finally settling on a hairstyle; about shoulder length that frames the back of his head in a rolled updo. He’ll be adding decorations to that once he decides on a color scheme. “No, I’ll handle the tournament myself, thank you very much. Why’d you lie earlier?”

“Ah—” Black Sapphire wavers, a small flash of surprise on his face before it fades to a wry smile. “My apologies, Master Shadow Milk Cookie. I was not asked to announce, but I did offer. I felt the skills needed were right in my wheelhouse.”

A little surprised, Shadow Milk glances up at Black Sapphire’s reflection in the mirror. Black Sapphire had been the most skeptical about living in the Vanilla Kingdom between him and Candy Apple, so to see him offering to participate in a public festival of his own volition is unusual. Shadow Milk shrugs a moment later, now in the process of deciding what color dough will go well with his new hair. “Well, have fun,” he says, dismissive.

Black Sapphire hovers for another moment, looking almost like he wants to say something else, before he simply nods. “Alright. Thank you, Master Shadow Milk Cookie. Do let me or Candy Apple know if you require us for anything.”

Shadow Milk wordlessly waves a hand. Black Sapphire bows and leaves, the door shutting behind him with hardly a sound.

Shadow Milk settles on a slightly duskier brown for his dough, and the combination sparks another idea. He recalls a type of plant with pale blue flowers that are often harvested and refined for making both food and thread, specifically oil and linen. He knows Pure Vanilla would like it too, as it would speak to his more humble disposition as something both common and with multiple uses.

The rest of the disguise comes together quickly now that Shadow Milk has a better theme in mind. Adding the blue flowers to his hair, he changes the shirt to reflect the blossoms as well, scalloped edges fading to blue. With linen stays over his shirt, a caplet over his shoulders, he adds a collar like his own ruff with a bundle of flowers at the base of his neck, mirroring the position of his Soul Jam.

Shadow Milk pauses to study his progress. It’s good, appropriately simple and cohesive, but it’s missing something. He figures it’s too top heavy and decides on a half-skirt to match the caplet. He adds a line of fluff to both, something Pure Vanilla would certainly appreciate.

He scatters seeds across his dough and changes his face to something much less striking than his own, though not without a line of eyeshadow around his now nearly black eyes to match the flowers. For the most important feature, he pulls an old, well kept rapier from his Other-Realm, affixing it to his hip.

Shadow Milk admires the final product in the mirror, smiling wide. Yes, this will do perfectly.

With the appearance done, he digs deep for a fitting persona to perform with. He needs to be someone quieter, humble and approachable, with a noble heart and a mind for justice and righteousness. Pure Vanilla would surely find such a cookie appealing, right? Right.

He closes his eyes to center himself into the new character, to fully embody a new role, and takes a few deep breaths to let it settle over him.

The cookie in front of the mirror opens their eyes, a confident yet relaxed smile on their face as they take on a stance that speaks of staunch discipline, spine straight and shoulders angled back slightly. Not quite a swagger, but without an ounce of hesitation or uncertainty to be seen.

Linseed Cookie’s smile widens ever so slightly. Yes, perfect indeed.

Shadow Milk spends the first few days of the festival either practicing his swordsmanship in private, just to make sure he isn’t too rusty, or actually taking some time to walk instead of float so he doesn’t accidentally do it in the middle of combat or something stupid like that.

He still thinks floating is a much better mode of travel than walking. However, it gives him the chance to wander around the festival markets on the days leading up to the tournament, putting his persona as Linseed Cookie to the test. They’re sure to be seen by and greet lots of cookies, ensuring that it won’t be too strange for someone so unknown to only be present for the day of the tournament and nowhere else. It has the added benefit of giving them the chance to peruse the stalls and wares set up all over the kingdom to see what catches their interest.

Linseed eventually spots a stall selling little painted wooden carvings and ends up hovering by it, their eyes drifting over the variety on display. The merchant, finishing a conversation with another customer, turns his attention to them.

“Good day! Is there anything here that catches your eye?”

Linseed chuckles and shakes their head. “Oh, I’m simply admiring your craftsmanship. These must have taken you quite a while.”

Predictably, the compliment makes the merchant’s eyes light up. “That they did! In particular, figuring out how best to sand them to better accept paint is—”

Linseed tunes him out as he launches into a drawn out ramble over his techniques and material selection. Instead, they let their eyes drift over the collection again, this time noticing a small carved cream sheep. The carving is in their hands before they realise they picked it up, and the merchant interrupts his rant when he notices.

“One caught your eye after all, eh?” He chuckles, then picks up a carving of a cake hound. “If it’s adorable fluffy things you like, perhaps this one may also interest you—”

“Woah, these are so cute!”

Linseed swiftly takes a step back as a cookie with grey-brown, speckled dough and vibrant red-orange hair sprints up to the stand and immediately leans over the display table to get a closer look. There’s a wide, sharp-toothed grin on his face the entire time.

“Ah—” the merchant looks between Linseed and the newcomer, who abruptly looks up at him, smile widening.

“Say, do you have any carvings of—”

“Ikura! Wait for us!”

Linseed watches two more cookies rush towards them, one of them sprinting and panting while the other floats a few inches off the ground. They feel a twinge of longing and jealousy at the sight.

“You two are just slow!” The red-haired cookie—Ikura—shouts over his shoulder before turning back around. “—carvings of sea creatures?”

The merchant stammers, glancing at Linseed again. He looks like he’s wordlessly asking for help. Unsure how they could possibly do anything, they shrug in response. The sheep carving is still cradled in their hands.

“Apologies, my friends. I can certainly respond to any of your questions. Please allow me a few moments to finish speaking with—” The merchant says to the newcomers as he places the cake hound carving back in place.

“No need, good sir,” Linseed assures with a shallow bow, taking note of the price listed on the label attached to the sheep. “I will just take this. Here’s your payment.”

The merchant watches them place the necessary number of coins on the table, stammering his thanks, before Ikura Cookie immediately gets his attention again.

Linseed glances at the red-head’s companions, looking winded and resigned in turn, and silently sneaks an extra couple of coins onto the display table before wordlessly walking away. With the way Ikura Cookie keeps leaning further and further into the merchant’s space, they feel he will need the tip.

The day of the tournament comes with much fanfare. Shadow Milk wakes up early enough to spot the congregation of staff in the middle of swarming to Pure Vanilla’s bedroom, waiting at the door just before they’re about to turn the nearest corner before he takes it upon himself to slam it open.

Pure Vanilla startles at the noise, clearly having just roused from sleep, and sits up. Shadow Milk watches him blink at him a few times, squinting with a confused furrow to his brow.

“Wakey wakey, Nilly! Your big day is here!” Shadow Milk exclaims. The castle staff arrive at that moment, and he stands to the side with a theatrical bow and a sing-song, “he’s all yours now~!”

The castle staff are used to his antics by now, so the only reaction he gets to his unannounced presence is several eye rolls.

Shadow Milk watches in amusement as Pure Vanilla is quickly whisked away before he can get a word in edgewise. The former king looks over his shoulder as he’s literally dragged away with something close to a pout on his face, likely upset that he wasn’t able to properly greet Shadow Milk like the sentimental sap he is. Shadow Milk simply grins wide and waves until he and his assistants disappear around a corner.

He takes the opportunity to promptly don his Linseed persona and they immediately make their way to the arena where the tournament is being held. Once their attendance is confirmed by staff, they’re informed that their match will be the first of the tournament and provided directions to the waiting room. It’s empty when they arrive, which indicates they ended up signing in early. Linseed picks a spot near the furthest corner to take a seat and wait for their first match to begin.

The arena itself is nothing particularly special; it is a ruin left over from the Dark Flour War, fixed up and tidied for the purposes of the tournament and any other events it might be needed for. It’s simple yet grand, boasting typical Vanillian architecture in an even more typical circular design. A platform built above the raised walls of the arena is where Pure Vanilla will sit and watch the proceedings, the rest of the arena lined with enough seating to hold the whole kingdom at its prime.

Decorations have been put up; banners displaying the Vanilla Kingdom’s coat of arms, ribbons and flags draped across any viable surface, and sugar confetti flying in the air from time to time. A band somewhere is performing a rousing piece, and even in the competitor waiting area, Linseed can almost feel the music and the cheers of the gathered crowd vibrate through the walls and floors. In the rare moments that the din of the spectators quiets, they can faintly hear Black Sapphire’s voice, clearly magnified thanks to his mic, announcing the proceedings and ceremony.

The waiting room is placed high enough with a single wide sugar glass window facing the arena floor that anyone inside can watch. The rest of the registered contestants have gradually filtered into the waiting room, some taking in the atmosphere from their vantage point, others in small groups conversing quietly, and the few left keeping to themselves around the edges of the room. Linseed doesn’t know any of them by name, but they have seen several during their market walks over the past few days, including the three that ran into them at the market.

Linseed has opted to mostly keep to themself, gazing out the window and pretending to find the cookies running around getting things ready interesting, while actually listening in on those conversing nearby. Most of it isn’t very interesting; there’s lots of boasting and grandstanding, as expected for an event like this. After a point, Linseed is debating tuning even that out to instead see if they can hear more of what Black Sapphire is saying through the noise of the crowd.

Still, not a single person has stated that they’re here to ask for Pure Vanilla’s hand in marriage, or anything close to it. Is there something else going on that Linseed is unaware of? Perhaps it’s such a given that it doesn’t need saying aloud?

Linseed is prevented from thinking on this further when Ikura Cookie and his companions evidently pull enough confidence together to approach them. They sigh quietly but turn as the group of three approaches them.

One appears to be a Vanillian, with hair and dough such a pale shade of tan that they’re almost entirely white, eyecing included. The other two, however, are unmistakably Sea Cookies. Perhaps the presumed-Vanillian came here from the Crème Republic? There are plenty of Vanillian descendants living there after all, or so they’ve heard.

“May I help you?” Linseed says politely, only offering the barest hint of a smile and nothing more.

“Yeah,” The maybe-Vanillian says, “We remember you from the markets before. You look cool, and we were curious about you!”

Linseed tilts their head ever so slightly. “Is that so,” they say evenly.

One of the Sea cookies with inky black hair draped down her back and peculiar rectangular pupils nods rapidly. The movement makes her hair look like it’s shifting colors slightly, and there’s a very faint ripple of shifting color that travels across her dough too. “Mhmm! Where are you from? You don’t look like you’re native to the Vanilla Kingdom, or the Crème Republic. Are you from somewhere in Wholegrania?”

Linseed pauses, considering their options. “… Traditionally when you’re asking for names, you offer your own first.”

The trio glance at each other before the maybe-Vanillian places a hand to their chest. “My name is Shortbread Cookie,” they say, then gesture to their dark-haired friend followed by the red-haired one. “This is Cuttlefish Cookie and Ikura Cookie.”

“I take it you three came here from the Crème Republic,” Linseed observes.

“Well… Kind of. It’s a long story,” Ikura Cookie shrugs. “What about you?”

Linseed stands to give the trio a theatrical but shallow bow, one arm extended to the side and the other crossed over their chest. “Linseed Cookie, at your service,” they say. “I hail from a remote region of Beast-Yeast. You won’t have heard of it.”

Shadow Milk had deliberated over the origins of Linseed for a long time before settling on a half-truth. The best lies are woven from them, after all.

The three cookies’ eyes go wide with awe. “Woah, Beast-Yeast?” Cuttlefish Cookie titters, already looking enamored. “Everyone always says that place is so dangerous. Does that mean you’re really strong?”

Linseed smiles to themself as they straighten up again. “You could say that.”

“So cool,” Cuttlefish Cookie murmurs to herself, starry-eyed as her dough begins to pulse through a few colors.

Ikura Cookie rolls his eyes at the display then directs his own question to Linseed. “What brings you to this tournament, then? Were you invited?”

Linseed shakes their head. “Not invited, no. I happened to be visiting at the right time and figured I’d take part. I’m curious to see if anyone will give me a good challenge, and the reward is… appealing.”

“Oooh, what are you hoping to get if you win?” Shortbread cookie asks with a grin.

“When I win,” Linseed corrects. “And what else? To ask for the king’s hand in marriage, of course!”

The trio break into hearty laughter.

Linseed stares at them. This is not the expected reaction.

“Alright alright, keep your secrets then,” Ikura chuckles.

What?

Before Linseed has a chance to process any of the events in the past ten seconds, Black Sapphire’s voice rises crisp and clear into the waiting room. “Dearest contestants, the first match will begin soon! Lemon Poppyseed Cookie and Linseed Cookie, make your way to your respective gates, please!”

Linseed glances out the window at the arena, now clear of any mess, before offering the three cookies in front of them a pleasant smile. “Well, it seems I’m up. Good luck in your own matches!”

“Good luck!” The three cookies wave as they leave.

It was not a difficult battle.

Midway through the tournament, a lunch break is called for everyone to have a chance to get something to eat and stretch their legs. The first rounds weren’t anything to write home about, and Linseed isn’t very hungry, so they decide to wander the stalls near the arena. They don’t particularly want to mingle or walk more than they already are today, but they figure getting some fresh air is better than nothing.

While walking around, they spot the three cookies that had approached them before gathering around a small table talking animatedly, each with a different bowl or plate of food in front of them. Though they are more tolerable than most others Linseed has interacted with in the tournament, they still want some time to their thoughts, so they give the trio as wide a berth as possible.

Before long, their mind wanders to Pure Vanilla.

They’ve been watching him between rounds, and he’s spent every moment simply watching. Something about his passive observation of everyone, his lack of visible excitement, or even boredom, something, is making Linseed feel annoyed for reasons they can’t yet identify.

This entire festival, the tournament, is to decide who will be marrying him. Surely Pure Vanilla, pragmatic as he is, would have some opinion about who he’d prefer to win, right? Surely there are contestants in the lineup he would prefer to marry over others. Right?

Their eyes drift over the crowd of spectators and contestants alike swarming around the streets for food, drink, and gossip.

All kinds of cookies thinking they have any chance at all with someone like Pure Vanilla. Thinking it’s their place to so much as dream of it. They know nothing of Pure Vanilla, not like Shadow Milk does, not like Pure Vanilla knows of him in turn. They don’t know that Pure Vanilla is his other half, that he belongs to Shadow Milk alone—

They shake their head vigorously as a flush spreads over their face, directing their thoughts away from dangerous territory. The summer sun must be getting to them. They turn on their heel to head back to the arena’s waiting room.

Even without all of that, there is another unwanted thought creeping through their mind like molasses the more they ponder over Pure Vanilla’s strange behaviour. If the worst comes to pass and Linseed is not the one who wins, does that mean that there will be a strange, unfamiliar cookie taking up Pure Vanilla’s time and space? Someone who could never even begin to know the former king as much as Shadow Milk does, just as Pure Vanilla knows him?

For better or for worse, Shadow Milk will forever be a part of Pure Vanilla’s life. Partner or not, Shadow Milk will not be softening himself for some third party just to be more appealing to them.

Just the thought of it feels like barbed vines wrapped around their chest. Linseed aimlessly wanders the halls of the arena as their mind spins in useless circles.

They end up milling around the currently empty waiting room of the arena, seated as they lean their head on the wall. It’s much quieter and cooler here, with much less distractions. This has solidly backfired, however, as they continue to stew in their own thoughts, an intense, burning sensation twisting knots within their dough.

Suddenly, the door of the room clicks open. Linseed glances up, expecting it to be one of the contestants, or even that trio of cookies. Instead, they’re shocked when Pure Vanilla steps in, dressed in soft tawny robes, a rainbow collection of flowers woven into his braid and a beautiful wreath set on his head in place of his hat. His light staff remains a usual fixture, clicking quietly on the tile flooring as he spots Linseed and walks closer.

Linseed mentally shakes themself before fluidly standing up to properly greet the former king. “Pure Vanilla Cookie,” they say, bowing lightly, “to what do I owe the honor?”

“Just taking a walk around to stretch my legs,” Pure Vanilla says with his usual placid smile, though there’s an odd edge to it that Linseed can’t quite identify. “I can’t say I’ve met you before. Might I know your name?”

“My name is Linseed Cookie,” they say, then hesitate. Pure Vanilla isn’t a fool. If they say where they’re from, that might tip him off to what’s really going on.

They’re saved from having to flounder over it further when Pure Vanilla chuckles, his smile pulling up further to one side. His eyes slide open slightly, and Linseed gets the very distinct feeling he’s looking right through them.

“Linseed Cookie,” he repeats slowly, as if tasting how their name sounds between his lips. “Your combat abilities are very impressive. I look forward to seeing the rest of your matches.”

A little surprised, Linseed blinks at him. “Th-thank you, I’m honored—” they manage, only to trail off when Pure Vanilla steps even closer.

One of his hands lifts to cup their jaw. Linseed’s hands press against the wall behind them. The other cookie presses his front into theirs.

They’re close enough that the only thing they can see is Pure Vanilla, the thick white lashes of his eyecing, the little black seeds speckled across his dough.

They watch, eyes blown wide, as Pure Vanilla leans in and presses a light kiss to their lips.

Linseed’s eyes slide shut, their nose filling with the scent of flowers and vanilla. One of their hands slides into the hair at Pure Vanilla’s nape.

The kiss lingers for a few weightless moments before Pure Vanilla pulls back just far enough that his warm breath washes over Linseed’s face.

They’re speechless.

Pure Vanilla’s grin curves, clearly pleased. “I do hope you’ll win.”

Shadow Milk swallows, mouth dry, as his pulse thrums rapidly through his body. His face burns hot. His head is spinning, like he’s downed three barrels of berry juice in the span of two seconds. “Uh-huh,” he slurs.

Pure Vanilla chuckles again, his warm hand lingering at his jaw before deliberately sliding away, his fingers trailing along his dough and leaving electric tingles behind. Shadow Milk's hand drops limply to his side.

Shadow Milk has no idea if Pure Vanilla says anything else, his ears ringing, before exiting the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. As he’s too busy trying to calm his racing pulse, Black Sapphire sweeps into the room in Pure Vanilla’s place. His expression is absolutely delighted, like he’s the cat who just caught the blueberry bird and can’t wait to show it off to everyone.

“My my,” he drawls, grin spreading wider as he takes in Shadow Milk’s present state. “How absolutely scandalous.”

Shadow Milk bares his teeth at him, making a show of standing upright. “Not. A. Word.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” Black Sapphire says, even though they both know he would at a moment’s notice. “Might want to tidy up your illusion, though.”

Eyes widening, Shadow Milk swiftly conjures a mirror and holds it up to his face. Sure enough, the illusion over his eyes is completely absent. He hurriedly slips it back into place, mismatched blue replaced with deep brown once more. The mirror is dispelled, and Linseed lets out a steadying breath as they brush nonexistent dust off their pants and pretend to adjust the rapier at their side.

“I’m assuming you’re here because you want something?” They prompt.

Black Sapphire snickers. “Actually, I couldn’t find you by any of the food stands, so I was going to check if you’d gotten anything to eat at all. Imagine my surprise at the absolutely delightful scene I stumbled on instead.”

Linseed doesn’t scowl, such expression of distaste is improper, but they frown sharply. “Watch it,” they warn.

Black Sapphire lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Yes, of course Master Shadow Milk-”

“That’s Linseed to you,” they interrupt with a quiet huff, pointedly ignoring the chuckle it earns them. “I wasn’t hungry, so no, I did not eat. Now, go bother Candy Apple or something.”

Black Sapphire obeys and begins fluttering away, but he rolls his eyes as he does. “Please, she’s been bothering me enough for both of us. She certainly provides ample entertainment for the audience. It’s a good thing I’m a professional commentator.”

Linseed doesn’t bother with a response as they watch Black Sapphire slide out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Linseed turns back to the window to the arena, watching as spectators are beginning to filter back into their seats as the end of the break draws near. They see Pure Vanilla taking his place in the main alcove where he’s been watching everything the whole time, and a new spark of determination flickers bright in their chest.

Now they have to win.

It’s child’s play to make it to the finals. Unfortunately, the combination of consciously refraining from any magic or spellwork and needing to walk everywhere is starting to take a noticeable toll. They aren’t worried about losing, but the discomfort is irritating.

At least the three cookies that seem to have taken a liking to them provide enough entertaining chatter between matches as a distraction.

Their opponent in the finals turns out to be a berry-based cookie from the Hollyberry Kingdom. Raspberry Cookie, as they remember Black Sapphire announcing.

Linseed hadn’t been paying much attention to the other contestants, so they have no idea what her combat skills are like. She does seem to have a reputation with both the crowd and other contestants, and she made it to the finals, so she’s well known to the general public. They do think she’s a bit too stiff and uptight, though. A terrible match for Pure Vanilla, without a doubt.

Black Sapphire’s voice rings loud and clear over the noisy cheers of the audience surrounding the arena, drumming up extra excitement over the last deciding round of the entire tournament. The finalists stand across from each other, waiting for their cue to begin the fight.

Linseed’s eyes drift up to where Pure Vanilla sits, surprised to find his gaze is already on them. His expression is the same as it’s been the entire tournament, but they feel the intensity of his attention even over the distance between them.

“On the right, we have the enigmatic and mysterious Linseed Cookie, flawlessly fighting their way to the finals with grace and finesse!” Black Sapphire announces as he flies high above the arena. “On the left, Raspberry Cookie, heiress of the Hollyberry Kingdom’s House Raspberry, sweeping aside the competition with discipline and skill! Who will come out on top? Cast your votes now, as we’re about to witness the grand finale of a lifetime!”

Linseed resists the urge to roll their eyes at the dramatics, instead noting that some time between their last conversation and the present, Black Sapphire is now wearing a floral wreath of his own with bright yellow and orange flowers in direct contrast with his deep purple outfit. They make an educated guess that it’s the work of Candy Apple.

“Contestants, ready your weapons!” Black Sapphire calls as he swoops lower.

Linseed draws their silvery rapier, pointing it at their opponent. Raspberry Cookie does the same, the candy cane blade of her rapier gleaming with a polished shine under the summer sun.

“On your marks…” Black Sapphire begins, the crowd as one beginning to mimic his words. “Three… Two… One… Begin!”

Raspberry Cookie immediately rushes into a flurry of movement. Linseed parries with ease, twisting their body out of the way of some strikes and directing others away with their blade. The crowd loves the rapid escalation, cheering and screaming loudly over the sounds of their weapons clashing.

Linseed hadn’t been watching how the other contestants fought, confident that it wouldn’t matter much who they face at the end of the day, so they spend some time watching Raspberry Cookie’s movements as she unleashes another series of strikes, each uselessly swishing past as they dodge or block them.

She’s a good fighter, likely from a childhood spent tirelessly practicing over and over again well into her adulthood. She’d be a hard match to overcome for any other average cookie.

Unfortunately for her, Linseed is far from an average cookie.

They don’t give her a chance to attack a third time; their sword jabs out with lightning fast speed. Raspberry Cookie’s eyes widen in surprise as she barely manages to parry, unable to move her body fast enough to avoid it. They swiftly follow this up with a few more powerful swipes, pushing her back several steps as she is suddenly the one on the defensive.

They separate a moment later, both taking the chance to eye their opponent and rethink strategies. Raspberry Cookie had clearly walked into this arena expecting the fight to go in a particular direction, but she’s looking at Linseed now like they’re a puzzle piece that isn’t fitting into place where it should.

Unable to help themself, Linseed taunts, “Leaving yourself pretty open, there. Are you trying to get me to disarm you in under five minutes?”

Raspberry Cookie’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t respond with her own jab. “It has been many a year since another cookie has successfully disarmed me,” she says firmly. “Time will tell if my skill holds true.”

What a lackluster reaction.

“Time will tell, indeed,” Linseed says under their breath.

In the next breath, they dart forward, aiming to wipe Raspberry Cookie’s legs out from under her. She sees the move coming just in time, barely spinning out of the way as she follows with a stab of her rapier. Linseed deflects it to the side, defense flowing into offense as they thrust their sword at her waist.

Raspberry Cookie doesn’t escape the full brunt of it, barely turning it into a glancing blow. She grunts as the pointed blade rips through the outer layer of her clothing.

Linseed doesn’t allow her any reprieve, laser focused on the fight now as they swipe and jab at her chest and arms to force her into perpetual defense. Every blow hits harder than is normal for most cookies and causes her to stumble frequently.

Linseed spots the opening they were looking for moments later. They can tell that, while disciplined and skilled in equal measure, Raspberry Cookie is as prone to frustration and impatience as anyone else. Sure enough, after they unleash a rapid flurry of blows, she attempts a desperate counter strike, aiming for their face to make Linseed either retreat or block.

They do neither.

Magic swells through Linseed’s dough like a tidal wave. They register what they’re doing just in time to tamp the flow down to a trickle, manifesting as a translucent glittering shell in the path of Raspberry Cookie’s sword. It glances off the spell with a shower of stars and sails uselessly past their cheek, only catching on their hair.

Linseed pays no mind to the blond locks falling around their face and down the back of their neck as they swiftly strike at Raspberry Cookie’s sword arm. She yelps and flinches back, and it’s easy to forcefully knock her sword from her grip.

The blade clatters to the ground far out of reach, and for good measure, Linseed kicks her legs out from under her. Raspberry Cookie’s back lands on the hard ground, causing her to grunt as the breath is knocked from her lungs. They stand over her and direct the end of their rapier at the hollow of her neck.

This is the only match that has made Linseed actually work for the win, breathing heavily and sweating under the heat of the afternoon sun as they stare down their opponent, daring her to so much as twitch. She is breathing heavier than Linseed and looks slightly dazed, like she can’t believe they had followed through with disarming her.

Several tense moments pass, with even the crowd going silent other than the low hum of murmurs and whispers. They hear the swish of wings and cloth as Black Sapphire flies closer to better see and hear what happens next.

Raspberry Cookie stares up at Linseed, gears in her head turning rapidly, looking for any way to turn the tables. She sighs quietly in resignation.

“I yield,” she declares loud and clear.

All at once, the audience breaks into raucous cheers.

“What an incredible match!” Black Sapphire cookie exclaims, barely audible over the exuberant noise. “Everyone give it up for our finalists, and our victor, Linseed Cookie!”

The cheers become louder somehow, and Linseed adds to the theatrics by lifting their sword high in victory. Their eyes inevitably drift towards Pure Vanilla. Surprisingly, instead of being seated, he’s up against the railing, leaning over it as he stares down at them. Linseed’s arm feels like it has a mind of its own as they direct their sword away from the sky to instead point at Pure Vanilla.

This victory is for you, is the wordless declaration. The crowd has barely begun to quiet before the action renews their excitement to new levels.

Raspberry Cookie gets to her feet as Linseed turns back around. They stare at each other silently for a few seconds before she extends her hand to them. “You fought well.”

At least she’s not a sore loser. “As did you,” they say, clasping their hands together with a single firm shake.

“It’s time to prepare the arena for the award ceremony!” Black Sapphire’s voice cuts through the noise above them. “Linseed Cookie and Raspberry Cookie, make your way back to the waiting room, if you please!”

Raspberry Cookie gives them a nod before releasing their clasped hands. Linseed lets her walk ahead before following her lead.

They barely get two steps into the waiting room before there’s a loud shout and they are abruptly swept right off their feet. They flail for a second, disoriented, before the familiar faces of Cuttlefish Cookie and Shortbread Cookie enter their field of view and they swiftly realise the one hoisting them up must be Ikura Cookie.

“Yo! Linseed Cookie! That fight was sick!” Ikura exclaims.

Linseed sighs, wiggling and tapping the arm around their legs. “Thank you, Ikura Cookie. Please put me down.”

Ikura complies immediately, faster than Linseed expects him to. Between the long hours fighting on their feet, unused to so much walking and running around, their knees almost buckle out from under them. Thankfully, the barest wisp of magic keeps them upright enough to make it look like a brief stumble.

“You really are strong!” Cuttlefish exclaims once they get their footing. “Maybe we should take a trip in our boat to Beast-Yeast sometime.”

“We’d need to pack up more supplies than usual…” Shortbread adds absently with a slow nod.

Linseed’s mind immediately goes to the last time they saw the Licorice Sea. “… I’d go by airship, personally,” they say, carefully neutral.

They’re ignored.

Ikura grins wide and exclaims, “We should get a bigger sail for our boat! It’ll make us go faster!”

Cuttlefish puts her head in her hands as her dough flickers. “For the last time, Ikura, our current sail is already big enough—”

Linseed shakes their head, exasperated and fond in equal measure, as the two begin bickering. Shortbread appears lost in thought.

With the trio distracted, a pair of cookies they recognise as staff for the event approach and wordlessly wave them towards a table and stool set up in the corner of the room. The rest of the contestants offer a chorus of congratulations and cheers for their win as they pass by.

Linseed barely has a chance to offer a single wave in acknowledgement before they’re deposited onto the stool, and the two staff members begin tugging at their hair and clothes to tidy and straighten them out. They can see Ikura and Cuttlefish still arguing with each other, though Shortbread has gone from gazing into the middle distance to staring at Linseed as they’re fussed over.

Once the two staff cookies are done touching up their hair and clothing, one wipes at their face with a towel, then pauses to squint at their face. Linseed stares back until he says, “your eye shadow hasn’t smudged at all.”

The disguise is holding up slightly too well. Oops. “It’s a special powder I made,” they explain, deliberately light. “Only comes off with a solution I have back home.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but he says nothing else.

The other staff cookie joins him. “The contestants will be called into the arena by Mister Black Sapphire Cookie once it is ready,” she says with a smile. “You’ll be directed to stand alongside the semi-finalists and Lady Raspberry Cookie once you’re there.”

Linseed nods and thanks them, watching as they leave.

Shortbread Cookie glances over as the staff leave the room, then approaches where Linseed is still seated in the corner. Their two friends follow, somehow still arguing, though from what Linseed can gather it has graduated from boat logistics to which kind of fish tastes best in stew.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Shortbread cuts over their two friends, who quickly go quiet to look at them, “were you being serious when you said you were going to ask for Pure Vanilla Cookie’s hand in marriage?”

Confused, Linseed looks at them one by one. “… Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Ikura and Cuttlefish’s eyes widen simultaneously and they both open their mouths, but Shortbread continues before they get the chance to say anything. “I’m curious, have you met Pure Vanilla Cookie before? What made you travel all the way here from Beast Yeast?”

Linseed turns their head to the side as their traitorous face begins to heat up again. They mull over their response for a few moments as the other three seem to hold their breath, prepared to hang on their every word. “I have…”

Linseed thinks back to Pure Vanilla in that fateful moment atop the Spire. How he had glowed, chasing away the writhing darkness the tower was steeped in. They think of how he’d turned that radiance to Shadow Milk and asked if he would step out into the light alongside him instead of wallowing in the dark, alone and miserable.

They think of Pure Vanilla and his endless patience as Shadow Milk bit and scratched and resisted every time he was offered any kindness. He was still a wounded, scared beast back then, waiting for the moment the gentle hand on his head would turn harsh.

Anticipating cruelty that would never come.

“If I had to put it simply,” they say slowly, “it would be that… I found him radiant.”

More than that, more than Pure Vanilla’s current appearances and achievements over his thousands of years alive, they recall a time when he was still a young cookie standing at the end of the Sugar Free Road, tired and dirty. The Soul Jam of Truth lays before him, gleaming under sunlight like the ultimate prize for his hardships.

Shadow Milk remembers watching through cracked magical windows from his Other-Realm, seething with rage and agony at the sight of some thief taking what was rightfully his.

He’s a much different cookie, now.

Linseed shakes their head, willing the heat in their face to go down. “I… didn’t know what to think.”

There’s a round of quiet giggles, the kind only cookies who have just overheard some tasty gossip can make. Linseed internally debates over if they should bother asking what the trio interpreted from their statement, vague as it was.

They don’t get a chance to ask regardless as Black Sapphire’s voice cuts through the din of the waiting room to say, “Contestants, preparations are complete! All of you are to gather in the arena, and the top four will be directed to specific spots. Chop chop, now!”

There’s a rush of cookies immediately heading for the doors, excitement thrumming through the air. Linseed, knowing fighting to be in front would be a futile effort, waits for the flow to thin before following the crowd into the arena. Shortbread, Cuttlefish, and Ikura trail behind them instead of rushing ahead, contrary to their expectation.

Linseed takes in the changes made to the arena as everyone gathers around the center. Thick wafer slabs have been set up into a platform where Pure Vanilla himself is standing, tall and serene. Black Raisin Cookie is slightly behind him to the side, hovering and watching like his personal shadow.

Surprisingly, Clotted Cream Cookie is there too, currently talking with Pure Vanilla. Linseed is too far away to make out what they’re saying or even read their lips, but their conversation ends quickly, and Clotted Cream Cookie takes a place behind Pure Vanilla beside Black Raisin.

Black Sapphire glides down from the sky in the next moment, landing in front of the platform. The garish flower crown is still seated securely atop his head.

He lifts his mic into the air with a flourish before bringing it to his lips. His voice is just loud enough to be heard by those gathered by the stage as he says, “finalists and semi-finalists, step forward, if you please.”

Linseed strides forward, spotting Raspberry Cookie doing the same along with their opponent in the semi-finals they barely remember as well as what must have been Raspberry’s opponent. Black Sapphire points at each of them in turn before indicating at the ground in front of him for them to stand in specific spots.

Once he’s satisfied with their positions, he turns to face Pure Vanilla’s direction, but addresses the crowd all around and above them. “Dear audience, attention please!” He calls, voice carrying loud and clear this time. “The award ceremony will now commence!”

With that, Black Sapphire flutters to take a spot at Black Raisin’s side, twirling his staff as sparkling purple wisps of magic dance around Pure Vanilla’s body. He gives Black Sapphire a glance and a nod, then steps forward.

“It has been many long years since this tournament was last held, and it is an honor to be able to host it once more,” He says, voice louder than Linseed expects. Black Sapphire’s spell must have made it easier for Pure Vanilla to project himself. “Every contestant fought valiantly. It has been my greatest pleasure to be able to witness such a variety of combat styles, from all over Crispia and beyond. I am truly thankful for everyone who made the effort to come visit the Vanilla Kingdom and participate today.”

Pure Vanilla pauses to allow the audience and the rest of the gathered contestants a moment to cheer in response. “To start, Clotted Cream Cookie from the Crème Republic will give a brief speech.”

It takes far too much effort for Linseed not to let their eyes roll back in their head as the Consul takes the stage. They completely tune out his voice and stare in the middle distance pretending to listen until he finally stops talking, the crowd cheers at whatever he said, and Pure Vanilla takes his place.

“Thank you, Clotted Cream Cookie. Now, the part you are all waiting for,” he announces. “Dandelion Cookie and Amethyst Cookie, please step forward.”

The two semi-finalists approach Pure Vanilla. Black Raisin pulls a few items from her cloak and hands them to Clotted Cream Cookie. Linseed watches him give each a medal, then a pair of small boxes.

The two cookies bow, murmur something that sounds like thanks, then retreat to their previous positions. Raspberry Cookie is called up next, and her reward seems to be similar for the most part, but her medal is silver instead of bronze. Instead of getting something in a box, she’s handed a larger pouch. Linseed has no idea what’s in either the boxes or the pouch, and doesn’t really care to ask.

“Last but not least, our champion of the tournament. Linseed Cookie, if you please,” Pure Vanilla announces. The arena almost immediately goes quiet, like everyone is holding their breath.

Linseed feels their heart race as they step forward until they are a scant few paces away from being pressed right against Pure Vanilla the way he did to them in that waiting room hours ago.

There’s a breathless moment where they stare at each other silently.

Linseed’s eyes slide shut as they drop to one knee, head bowed. They barely hear the gentle swish of Pure Vanilla’s robes even with the silence filling the arena.

“Congratulations, Linseed Cookie,” Pure Vanilla says, his voice doubly loud in the new quiet. “You are the champion of the first tournament in the new age. As such, the reward is yours.”

There’s a brief rustling noise, then a gentle pressure as the wreath previously on Pure Vanilla’s head is gingerly placed on Linseed’s. The noise from the audience slowly ticks up as they open their eyes to look up at Pure Vanilla.

His hands are still outstretched slightly, lingering with something close to want, but they fall to his sides when he realises Linseed is looking at him. Their relative positions mean that the gradually setting sun is haloed right behind the other cookie’s head, making his blond hair glow like strands of honey.

It’s as if the sun itself is shining for the sole purpose of making Pure Vanilla appear radiant.

Linseed deliberately rises to their feet again, reaching for the flower at their chest as they do. Pure Vanilla watches them, placid but with a curious tilt to his head.

Before they can overthink their next move, they pull the flower free and reach out to carefully thread it into Pure Vanilla’s hair where the wreath once sat. The crowd collectively cheers again with something that sounds like a cross between shock and glee, and there’s a distinctly familiar whoop from Ikura some distance behind them.

Even Pure Vanilla looks surprised as a dark flush spreads over his dough.

Linseed smiles at the sight. “Much better.”

Before either of them can say anything else, Black Raisin clears her throat, then grunts when Black Sapphire reaches over to punch her shoulder with a shushing noise. His wings flutter, wearing that same delighted expression as before.

Clotted Cream Cookie, standing a few paces away but within Linseed’s line of sight, is staring at them with eyes wide and eyebrows lifted almost to his hairline.

“Ah—” Pure Vanilla stammers, then clears his throat before offering Linseed a warm smile. “Shall we head back to the castle gardens? We can discuss your reward there.”

Linseed nods with their own smile. “That sounds wonderful.”

Black Sapphire flutters past, pausing only to give Linseed a wide, knowing grin, before working with some of the staff to herd the remaining contestants out of the arena. They can see the audience above slowly filtering out as well, chattering excitedly the whole time. Linseed spots Ikura’s bright red hair out of the corner of their eye as they leave, glancing over in time to see him and his companions give them an exuberant thumbs up.

Once the arena is mostly empty, Black Raisin slides closer to Pure Vanilla to whisper something to him. He nods in response, then she begins heading for one of the exit gates.

Pure Vanilla offers Linseed another smile as his hand lifts, hovers between them, then gestures for them to follow.

Black Raisin leads them into the streets, past the crowds of cookies held back by the castle’s staff and knights alike. Cheers and shouts follow them as they walk past. Black Raisin doesn’t acknowledge any of it, Pure Vanilla waves and smiles the whole time, and Linseed decides to occasionally offer a smile and half bow, enough to satisfy their audience.

The noise of the crowd peters out as they enter the walled off grounds of the castle, following the paths to the vast, pristine gardens. Linseed is thankful for the silence, and finds their eyes drifting to Pure Vanilla barely two paces in front of them.

They stare at the pale blue flower at his temple, a lovely complement to his blond hair. It looks good on him, shows everyone who he belongs to—

Linseed shakes their head violently, and pinches their own arm for good measure.

Pure Vanilla, oblivious to their thoughts, pauses before the path leading into the gardens and turns to Black Raisin. “We’ll be alright from here,” he says with a smile. Black Raisin looks at him, then at Linseed with a raised eyebrow, before shrugging and striding off.

“Yell if you need me,” is all she says.

Pure Vanilla watches her leave before turning to Linseed, his smile widening. The sun has further set by now, lighting the sky with the vibrant colors of dusk, but Linseed can almost swear his smile alone lights up the area around them. “Come, let us get comfortable.”

Linseed nods wordlessly, blood rushing in their ears. This is not too dissimilar to the times Pure Vanilla would invite Shadow Milk to the gardens to spend time in each others’ presence as they share tea, or to keep him company as he works in the soil to maintain the flowers.

Something about the late hour combined with the dim light gives a secretive, intimate air to it, and Linseed is abruptly and unhelpfully reminded that Pure Vanilla does not know they are actually Shadow Milk. As far as he is concerned, Linseed is a cookie he has never met before today, and he has invited them into a place Shadow Milk always treasured as a place primarily for them as a pair.

Their stomach clenches unpleasantly. The flax flower nestled in the king’s blond hair is suddenly an intrusive and unwelcome sight.

Unaware of their plight, Pure Vanilla leads them to one of the gazebos dotting the gardens, the one they always end up gravitating towards. The knot forming in their throat tightens.

“Please, take a seat,” Pure Vanilla gestures at one of the two chairs, between which is a table already set up with a tea set atop a wooden tray. It has been freshly brewed, if the wisps of steam rising from the spout are any indication. Linseed lingers in place for a moment before obeying.

Pure Vanilla takes the other seat and pours them both some tea. He holds one cup out for them, and they take it out of habit before Pure Vanilla picks up his own cup.

They glance down at the cup in their hands, face twitching when they realise this is the same set Pure Vanilla custom ordered from a local store. The ceramic is a pale blue color to match Shadow Milk’s dough with spiralling golden inlays along the surface.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Pure Vanilla says, breaking the silence that settled over them. “Are you doing alright?”

Linseed blinks hard, realising they’ve been slipping out of character far too much. They mentally shake themself before Linseed glances up at Pure Vanilla as he takes a sip of his tea. “Just thinking about the reward,” is the haughty reply.

Pure Vanilla chuckles, lowering the teacup back to its saucer with a quiet clink. “It seems you took my earlier words to heart,” he observes.

Unwittingly, Linseed remembers the dizzying moment when Pure Vanilla had cornered them and said, “I do hope you’ll win.”

“I could hardly disappoint the king of the Vanilla Kingdom, could I?” They shrug, desperately willing their face not to heat up again. “Still, that was awfully forward of you, your highness.”

A lovely flush spreads over Pure Vanilla’s face. “Ah, I… apologise if that was too much,” he says, sheepish.

“Well, it’s not every day I get invited to have tea with a king, so I can’t complain too much,” Linseed says, finally taking a sip from their cup despite the fact it feels like their mouth is full of cotton.

Pure Vanilla glances at them, head tilting. “Oh. I thought something familiar would be more comforting for you.”

Linseed’s brain stalls.

“… Familiar,” they echo.

Pure Vanilla nods slowly. “You’ve been busier than usual today, after all… Am I mistaken?”

It takes effort to stifle the hysterical laugh bubbling in their throat. Linseed tries not to look too hurried as they place the teacup back on the tray. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is my first time visiting the Vanilla Kingdom. Very interesting architecture here, by the way, very quaint-”

Pure Vanilla cuts him off with laughter, bright and loud in the silent garden.

Shadow Milk stares.

“Oh dear,” Pure Vanilla says as his laughter peters out, “I’m sorry. It’s just—you never fail to entertain, Shadow Milk.”

His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. Eventually, he manages to croak, “how?”

Pure Vanilla’s lips twitch like he wants to laugh again, but thankfully doesn’t this time. “Well, you’re my other half. I’d have to be blind not to know.”

“You are blind, you old fool.”

“Mhmm, so I am,” Pure Vanilla’s smile stubbornly remains on his face. “My point still stands.”

Shadow Milk shakes his head rapidly. “Hold on—so you’re telling me you knew who I was the whole time, the grand prize being what it is, and you still wanted me to win?!”

Pure Vanilla tilts his head to the side. “The… Grand prize…?”

Shadow Milk gets the distinct impression that they’re having two separate conversations.

“Yeah? The fact the winner gets your hand in marriage? The thing no one could shut up about? That grand prize?”

Heavy silence falls over them as soon as Shadow Milk stops speaking. Pure Vanilla is statue-still, hardly even breathing, like a spell has been cast to freeze time in place.

The moment breaks when Pure Vanilla quickly looks away, shoulders shaking.

Alarmed enough that his disguise melts away, Shadow Milk wonders frantically what he said wrong. He’s spared from further concern when Pure Vanilla throws his head back and laughs even louder this time, his body shaking.

Well, that’s certainly unexpected.

Shadow Milk watches the other cookie struggle to compose himself, thoroughly lost. Pure Vanilla’s laughter eventually peters off, and he wipes at the tears gathered on his lashes.

“Are you done?” Shadow Milk grumbles.

A few more snickers escape Pure Vanilla’s control. “I apologise,” he says. “I just… Goodness, that was not what I expected.”

“That makes both of us.”

Pure Vanilla ignores his retort. Instead, with emphasis, he says, “Shadow Milk, my dearest other half. You were under the impression every time this tournament is held, I get a new spouse? That I go around kissing random contestants on a whim?”

Shadow Milk feels his face heat up rapidly. He doesn’t reply.

One of Pure Vanilla’s hands quickly lifts to cover his mouth, too late to hide the way his lips twitch up again.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

There’s a single giggle. He decides to graciously ignore it.

“So you’re telling me the whole marriage thing was just the theme?”

Pure Vanilla’s hand lowers back to his lap, though there is still a wide grin spread over his face. “You almost sound disappointed. I thought you, of all cookies, would appreciate the theatrics.”

“Okay, sure, but—that’s—why to WED you?”

Pure Vanilla actually looks bashful, stalling by taking a brief sip of tea. “Back in the early days of the kingdom, before I took the mantle as its king, it was indeed a tradition to find a suitable spouse for the ruler at the time. A new tournament would be held anytime someone unwed took the throne. Then it was my turn, and it was a tradition that never appealed to me. The nobles at the time absolutely insisted I go along with it, despite my protests. When I refused, they organized the tournament behind my back. Since then, it simply became a fun theme for the citizens to enjoy themselves. That part, I have absolutely no problem with.”

Shadow Milk feels the urge to sink into the nearest shadow. “And no one told me this, why?”

“I’m sorry, I should have thought to let you know much sooner,” Pure Vanilla admits. “I suppose it’s been such an open secret for so long that it never crossed my mind.”

Shadow Milk only responds with an indistinct grumble as he lifts his teacup to his lips.

Pure Vanilla pauses, then suddenly looks smug. “Could it be that the thought of me marrying someone else bothers you?”

Shadow Milk chokes on his tea.

Pure Vanilla chuckles, deliberate this time. “Does that mean you fought so valiantly for the chance at having me all to yourself, then?”

Shadow Milk stares at Pure Vanilla, eyes wide as his mouth flaps open and closed uselessly. It takes far too many precious seconds for him to regain his composure enough to speak, but what comes out is a low growl of, “you’re my other half.”

It’s jealous and possessive all in one. Pure Vanilla only looks positively delighted. Shadow Milk isn’t sure he’s ready to decipher what that means yet.

Instead, he asks, “what is the reward for winning, then?”

“Usually, I’ll convene with an advisor and the winner and discuss what they want. It usually ends up being money. It’s meant to be a flexible reward, to draw fiercer competition. At least, that’s what my old advisors told me. It continues to be sound reasoning.”

“Hmm…” Shadow Milk hums, neutral. “So theoretically someone could still ask to marry you as a reward.”

“Theoretically, yes,” Pure Vanilla concedes. “That hasn’t happened since the first time I attended as king. Well,” he sends Shadow Milk a cheeky smile, “before you at least.”

Shadow Milk splutters. “I haven’t even asked!”

“You know, an exchange of floral accessories could be considered a proposal.” Pure Vanilla says, as mild as if they are discussing the time.

“Wh. What.”

“Doing such a thing so publicly…” He continues, one of his hand lifting to tap at his chin in thought. “It seems we’ll need to start planning the wedding soon.”

The floral wreath on Shadow Milk’s head suddenly feels very heavy.

“Uh. I. That’s…”

Shadow Milk has never floundered so much in his eons of existence than he has in the past ten minutes. It isn’t until he composes himself enough to see the poorly hidden smile on Pure Vanilla’s face that he realises what’s going on.

“Don’t tease me like that!” He complains.

Pure Vanilla’s only response is to take another sip of his tea.

He fails to admit it is, in fact, teasing. Shadow Milk pointedly does not address this.

“I’ll tip your chair over,” he grumbles, the threat empty.

“I’m sure you will,” Pure Vanilla agrees all the same.

Silence settles over them, much less awkward this time. The sun has fully set by now, only the barest hints of sunlight bleeding into the inky blue of the night sky.

A string of lights twined between the slats of the gazebo blink to life, and lamps lining the pathways through the gardens and castle walls flicker on one by one. The air is starting to cool to a more pleasant temperature against Shadow Milk’s dough, and he settles further into his chair.

He won’t admit this aloud, but Pure Vanilla was right to assume that the familiar routine and setting is relaxing.

Pure Vanilla finishes his tea first, setting the teacup down on the tray, then slowly reaches over to set his warm hand on Shadow Milk’s arm. He lowers his teacup to look at Pure Vanilla expectantly.

“I’m glad it was you who won today,” he murmurs as if sharing a precious secret.

Shadow Milk suddenly finds it difficult to keep eye contact. He stares at the dregs of tea left in his cup instead.

His face has burned hot too many times today, and Pure Vanilla has been far too suave for his liking. After a brief second of thought, Shadow Milk sets his teacup down again, grasping Pure Vanilla’s hand in his own before lifting it to press his lips to tan knuckles.

They twitch and heat up noticeably, and Shadow Milk is pleased when he glances up through his lashes to see a deep flush and a flustered expression on Pure Vanilla’s face for a change.

“… Of course, my king.”