Work Text:
"You're not afraid of me?"
Dark Choco Cookie's words caught you off guard, the sound of his roughened voice hanging heavy in the air… worn down, but the edges felt softer than usual. They weren't ripped through his teeth in his typical growl. If you were to relate it to a sound it'd be the soft and partially disappointed "oh…" a small child let's out when they're told they can't go out and play in the rain. Small and almost… innocent.
But knowing the prince it was probably anything but innocent. Maybe he was offended that you were comfortable being so casual with him in the privacy of the infirmary. It wasn't his first time under your care. Far from it, actually, but the way his muscles held tense under your hands as you swiped a damp cloth across the tiny cuts slowly leaking bright red jam down his sharp shoulder blade- he'd already stripped off the clothing of his upper body, even before you had instructed him to so you could get a good look at his condition.
He looked like he'd been beaten. Bruises and faint cracks spider webbed across the surface of his dough,but he'd pull through. You've seen him drag himself in with worse- you still remember the gnarly cut stretched from the top of his forehead to his cheek, slashing out the eye. The image of pristine white sugary skull underneath never quite left your brain.
And maybe you were insane, but it looked like he'd been zapped a few times. Black smudged… something… that could only be described as smelling burnt. Swiping it away only confirmed it once the blisters and razor thin cuts showed themselves. Burnt plastic, icing, and dough clung onto him.
The only noise in the infirmary asides from the faint raggedness of his breathing was the soft wet squelch of the wetted rag in your hand- the heat already slipped away from the fabric and freezing the tips of your fingers. If Dark Choco Cookie minded he didn't say anything about it; he was never one to voice out his complaints when it came to your care. The others? He was hardly so content. You've seen the attitude he slung towards Pomegranate Cookie's direction whenever she got on his back about something or another. Water trickled down the curves and dips of his muscular back as your grip on the cloth tightened.
"No, I'm not. You haven't given me a reason to be afraid," You finally muttered. It did nothing to break the awkwardness settling thickly in the herb scented air.
The rag is peeled off as you continue. "I know what you're about, it's not exactly a secret. Pomegranate Cookie really likes to throw it in your face whenever she's in one of her…" You click your teeth. "..moods…"
No doubt it was going to get worse now that Dark Enchantress Cookie had fully returned in the dough. Whatever that meant for the future was unclear. All you knew was that she'd already set her sights on the Pure Vanilla Kingdom- a place you'd only heard in legend. But she was hellbent on finding it.
"And you don't come across as the kind of cookie that strikes down at the defenseless, no matter what you say." You examine the cut on the back of his shoulder. The bleeding had long since stopped. The wound vaguely smelled of chili peppers and the thought of the burn made your insides squirmed. It didn't matter to you what your comrades may have thought about you for not getting out and fighting for Dark Enchantress Cookie's cause; you were perfectly content with hanging back and dealing with the aftermath.
At least, it was mostly Licorice Cookie who seemed to get off on looking down at you for not being a fighter. Funny how his snide comments instantly died away as you smeared ointment on whatever nasty bite that wrapped around his ankle when his little henchmen went rouge.
"You always seem to go after people who can actually fight back, at least if your visits are anything to go off of," You mumbled softly. A glass vial found itself into your fingers and you screwed the cap off. The stench of medicinal herbs cut through the air as you dripped a few drops of the fluid into your palm, before smearing it over the slashes you had just cleaned. A twitch against your hand as he stiffened further. Perhaps it was mean spirited, but you always found yourself amused that even some of the hardest and toughest cookies in Dark Enchantress Cookie's forces were susceptible to flinching when come face to face with disinfectant.
"Speaking of… If you don't mind me asking- because it's been nipping at me since you walked in… what happened? You look like you got zapped or something- your hair was standing up too.."
…It still was, just a tiny bit.
Before you could think twice you ran your clean hand against the curve of the back of his skull. Faint nicks and raised scars caught against the crunchy dough. Another reminder that one of you was constantly on their feet and fighting.
A highly skilled warrior who happened to be a prince of a failing kingdom, and a cookie too fragile to step into the crossfires. It's not like you wanted to stand off to the side biding your time until some poor soul was sent your way to be tended to.
"…There was a wizard…" He sounded so deadpan that you couldn't help but suck in a snicker.
"Oh yeah?"
Try as you might you couldn't stop the grin lacing itself into your words. You bite back the urge to ask if there was a unicorn too. A quiet hissing breath sucked between your clenched teeth as you caught the corner of his jaw flex.
"He used…" His voice had regained its usual heaviness as his hands gripped at his knees. Maybe this made you a freak, but the thought of how muscular his legs were flashed in your mind. They were probably rippling, if his back and arms were anything to go off of.
…
"Lightning… magic," Dark Choco Cookie finally got out through gritted teeth. You pursed your lips.
You really didn't envy your comrades. Sounded… like a hassle. If mind reading magic existed you'd probably get an earful at minimum for having such a mindset. Thankfully, as far as you knew, none of your allies could… though, you really didn't like how Dark Enchantress Cookie knew just what to say to keep everyone in line- at least going off the brief appearance she served everyone with when she just… returned…
"Well considering the fact you're still alive I'm assuming you've mostly dodged the strikes,"
Dark Choco Cookie grumbled in response.
"And I mean that sincerely, I don't think just anyone can avoid getting struck down like that, regardless of if the bolt was summoned. Witches know I'd instantly crumble before the bolt even had the chance to make it to the ground," You mumbled. You sweep your eyes over the scarred up dough of his back. Years and years of training and scuffles decorated him like the dozens of red candles set around the headquarters you and your comrades temporarily called home.
"Lucky for you, it doesn't look like the cuts from that are too deep… actually asides from the burns they don't look nearly as bad as one might think- either that wizard wasn't all that strong orrr…."
A strong pat on his back returned a sort of semi hollow semi solid sound. Built. Sturdy. Made sense given the general descriptions of the cookies that made up the Dark Cacao Kingdom- at least from the whispers you've heard. You never had it in you to ask Dark Choco Cookie about his upbringing in the Dark Cacao Kingdom. It's not that he forbade the topic or shut it down when the name of his homeland was uttered… its just…
He seemed like he was grieving something, directly contradicting the words he hissed through the sharp click of his teeth when he gritted them in the face of the scrutiny of others.
You'd probably never know the whole story of what happened in the castle walls the night the news of his betrayal snapped through the frozen air.
"They had a healer… he uh…"
You don't remember the last time you've heard uncertainty in his tone. You don't think you ever have actually.
"…Had a crown…" The prince's thick fingers reached towards the top of his head and clutched around nothing before heavily falling back to his side. So expressive!
"Kind of nuts for the enemy to heal you-"
"He pat my back,"
"Ah, so healing magic," You mumbled. Honestly it sounded handy. Perhaps you could look into it during your lonelier days in the infirmary. "Well regardless, it looked like he only really stopped the cracking a little bit. Not that they were life threatening… I bet he really only took the edge off," Your eyes landed on the back of his head. When did your hand go from trying to flatten out the remaining frizz to resting on the curve of his shoulder? You pulled your fingers away and settle backwards onto the cot. Uncomfortable but it got the job done.
"You probably could have gotten away with just cleaning the wounds yourself, none of them are really… bad bad… and I bet you could've reached them,"
It's not that you were tired of his presence, even if he sometimes… a lot of the time… brought a sort of vibe to spaces he pushed himself into. Like a brooding cloud swallowing all the light. He definitely felt like the concept personified.
It made you worry.
It made you worry a lot, actually.
"What I mean to say is-"
Finally he looked at you over his shoulder. Piercing. Intense. Brimming with thought even through the tired and glazed look. You don't think the dark rings under his eyes ever went away, let alone fade. It made your mouth feel dry and tacky. Chalky. The textured meat of your tongue squirmed helplessly against the saliva slickened smoothness of your molars. Dark Choco Cookie's eye only flicked once to your throat to catch the brief flex.
"…was there something else you wanted? Talk… check… anything?"
What a way to show off your care and bedside manners.
The cot rocked back and forth as Dark Choco Cookie started to turn his body, the poor metal legs of the thing creaking pathetically under your combined weight. It may have been an inappropriate moment to think about it, but you'd probably do some good with getting new cots. Maybe you could convince everyone to invest in some proper beds for the space. At the very least you could get Licorice Cookie on your side. You've never heard someone complain so much about being uncomfortable-
"..No." The prince's mouth held in a tight line as he stared hard at your face. Had the usual hardness of his eye been there you don't think you'd be able to keep as still… not that you weren't squirming.
Could you be blamed? The size difference was insane. He was massive and built study, and a high tolerance for pain- or at least an impossibly high drive to keep going. If the hushed whispers from the others told you anything, it was that he was highly skilled in combat as well. The sword he kept so close propped its heavy weight within arms reach.
You never gave it much thought but the gem embedded into it glowed cold. Even just glancing at it for a moment made goosebumps tear across the back of your neck.
If he wanted to, Dark Choco Cookie could silence you in an instant; and you'd never even have the chance to fight back. Even if you weren't baked brittle- even if you had even an ounce of knowledge on self defense- the idea of snapping clean through your ankles in an attempt to duck under his arm flashed across your head. It wouldn't be impossible. You'd crack over less.
But his eye was soft. It contained none of the frozen glare the strawberry red gem of the sword held.
Soft, but heavy. Intense as he picked apart every detail of your face- every wrinkle that deepened by the second in your tiny little spiral, the same ones that softened despite the brief moment of fear.
If he wanted to hurt you he would have done so already, he was never one to toy around and intimidate like this. Dark Choco Cookie always got to the point- and you swear on everything you saw something akin to sadness swallowing up the usual calculated sharpness.
For the moment, he was neither prince nor warrior. Banished or not. He looked like a little kid who wanted to go home.
Before you could even think to pry him to talk Dark Choco Cookie rose to his feet- hands already fumbling with the dark outer clothing he had shed, slipped back onto him with loose precision. Not even half a second later his torn up knuckled found the sword and tugged it close to his side.
"…Thank you," He muttered lowly as his broad back turned to you- and just like that he was already retreating.
If it weren't the first time he ever thanked you for your services you'd be able to snap yourself out of your shock and follow after him.
…But he didn't seem like he wanted to be followed- and for one reason or another, it made the insides of your ribs ache.