Work Text:
When Shadow Milk learned that he was pregnant, it had been a moment of terror, of panic. Worries and anxiety quickly filled his head, chasing away any an all rational thought. Surely, the great Pure Vanilla Cookie, leader of the Ancient Heroes, carrier of the Soul Jam of Truth, wouldn't want to have kids with him.
The beast of deceit, master of lies and puzzles, the very one who made Pure Vanilla falter.
Yet, after everything that had happened, the healer was excited about the aspect of them having children together. Within days, that was all Pure Vanilla could think or talk about. He was going to have a kid–as they had no idea it was actually twins–with the cookie he loved more than anything else on Earthbread.
At least, that's how it was supposed to be.
They were supposed to have a family together. Months of pain and discomfort were supposed to lead to some of the best years of their lives together. When that day finally came, tragedy struck.
Shadow Milk opened his eyes, blinking slowly as the room around him came back into focus. The lights were too bright, sounds were muffled yet deafening. Something was wrong. He knew that something happened when his limbs refused to work with his commands. The beast's arms failed to lift upwards, and his legs failed to stretch. There wasn't even any pain. It felt like a blessing compared to what he was experiencing only a few seconds ago.
It was silent. Shadow Milk could almost relax as he floated within the brightness of the room. Perhaps, he was still dreaming. That all of the pain and heartbreak unfolding below him wasn't real.
Until a cry broke through everything else.
He tried to get up, only to flail around like a struggling Cakehound shortly after birth. When he finally managed to turn himself over, the former beast's heart shattered.
He was dead, laying on the bed, a blanket tucked neatly around his cold body. A child had been wrapped and tucked into his arms, not moving as well.
Pure Vanilla, that sweet and gentle healer, stood to the side. Blue jam covered his hands and sleeves from trying to help revive his lover. Another baby, this one crying and screaming, was held tightly within his arms. Tiny hands of dough grabbed at the healer's hair. He didn't even notice the tugging.
Shadow Milk was dead. He knew that as a watched from above, servants cleaning up his body as well as the child's that would never come to be.
It was difficult. Watching as Pure Vanilla roamed the hallways of the castle. Very rarely did he put down their surviving child. It was like the healer was scares that she too would pass if let go.
The beast didn't blame him.
He had just watched Shadow Milk die giving birth to their twins, one not even making it five minutes before slipping into darkness.
No matter what he did, Pure Vanilla was unable to hear Shadow Milk. Shadow Milk couldn't hear Pure Vanilla either.
It was worse than being in the tree. At least then he could enjoy the entertainment. Here, he was forced to watch without even knowing what was being said.
Just as Shadow Milk began to accept what happened, Candy Apple Cookie and Black Sapphire Cookie had returned to the castle. It nearly ate him up inside watching the energetic red cookie screaming, no doubt blaming Pure Vanilla for his death. Black Sapphire tried to be the mediator, pulling Candy Apple away when she became inconsolable.
It wasn't long before the younger cookie left. It was difficult for her to stay in the very place where her former master had died. Shadow Milk couldn't even blame Candy Apple for leaving. She was stubborn and incredibly headstrong, to the point where it used to rival his own. The night she left was uneventful; a few whispered good-bye's from Black Sapphire and a bag of supplies, and she was gone.
By the time the anniversary of his death–Frosted Milk's birthday by extension–Shadow Milk had grown used to the routine. Pure Vanilla would wake up early, pacing around the castle, until he was gently guided back to Frosted Milk's bedroom by either Black Sapphire or Black Rasin Cookie. By then, the young princess would be awake and babbling away, as happy as could be.
Shadow Milk would do anything to protect that happiness. The few hours when Pure Vanilla was pacing the castle were the few moments that the former beast had with his own daughter. He knew that the young princess couldn't see him, and even if she did, he doubted that she would know who he was. Frosted Milk always seemed to enjoy watching his shadows dance across the walls of the bedroom in elaborate displays. Shadow Milk made certain that each story was unique. There would be no repeats for his precious daughter.
Even if he could not raise her physically, Shadow Milk would have some influence on her upbringing.
That morning, Pure Vanilla was taking longer to make his way back to the bedroom. All that it meant was that Shadow Milk had more time with Frosted Milk. Smiles were rare from the former beast yet watching his daughter always brought one to his face. Her giggles filled the room as shadow versions of Cakehounds ran in circles around her head, small claps of joy broken only by her attempts at grabbing one.
Just as quick as the moment began, it ended.
Pure Vanilla's footsteps filled the room as the shadows vanished. His hands shook, void of his staff. Frosted Milk clung to his robes as she was lifted out of the cradle and against his chest, one hand on her back. That was something that Shadow Milk never stopped loving, just how gentle the healer was when trying to handle a delicate situation.
The healer's hands never shook when he held Shadow Milk close. His gaze never strayed longer than a few seconds. Pure Vanilla was devoted to the former beast. But holding his daughter, one of the only things that he had left from Shadow Milk? His hands trembled. He was scared of harming Frosted Milk, scared that she too would crumble, leaving Pure Vanilla alone.
Shadow Milk hung back, floating in the air as silence took over. A part of him wished to follow his lover and daughter, yet another part–a part that wanted to be alone that day–hung back. Of course, Pure Vanilla would be struggling today seeing as it was the first anniversary of his death. Even then, it was still Frosted Milk's birthday. After several minutes of deliberation, Shadow Milk moved to follow. Just as he began moving, his vision became white, essentially blacking out.
Perhaps, given that it was his death date, his spirit was weaker… He would need Black Sapphire to read into that the next time he saw the purple cookie.
Shadow Milk opened his eyes several hours later. It was evening now. Pure Vanilla had already set Frosted Milk back in her crib, laying back in a chair nearby, watching her through hooded eyes. Curling up on the top of the chair was easy for the former beast, a single hand dangling not even an inch from Pure Vanilla's shoulder.
That's how it was supposed to be. The two of them watching over their daughter–daughters–while spending time next to one another. He had to resist the urge to try and play with the healer's hair. The former beast always enjoyed playing with those long, luscious locks when they were cuddling. Shadow Milk was glad that Pure Vanilla had decided to keep the longer hair. It suited him better than the short hair.
If things were different, Shadow Milk would've crawled into his lover's lap, just to be held so tight that there was no chance of escaping. Not that he would want to leave anyways.
"I'm sorry…"
Pure Vanilla's whispered words broke Shadow Milk out of his daze. He had to fight back tears when he saw the healer's own. His hands shook as they moved closer to his face, passing through the dough.
"I'm sorry that my careless mistake cost you your life, my bluebird. I tried my best-I tried everything to bring you back- I wish I could tell you this, how much I loved you and still do…"
Choked sobs filled the bedroom as the healer broke down. From her crib, Frosted Milk looked towards her father, worry in her own eyes. Tiny hands reached towards him, barely making it beyond the edge of the crib. Her babbles continued, becoming higher pitched, until they morphed into cries for attention.
Pure Vanilla forced himself to stand, wiping the tears from his eyes. As he picked her up, Frosted Milk still reached behind him. Reached towards where Shadow Milk floated.
He stayed still for a few seconds before moving closer, eyes tracking the ones of his daughter following himself. Shadow Milk couldn't help but make himself smaller. If only he could comfort his daughter and his love. If only he could be there for him. If only-
The healer set down the young princess once she had stopped crying, eyes filled with sadness, watching as she ignored him in favor of staring up at Shadow Milk. Her tiny hands grabbed at the air.
Slowly, he moved closer.
A single hand brushed against Frosted Milk's cheek. It was the closest he would ever get to being able to actually hold her.
"Are you saying good night to mama?" Pure Vanilla asked in a soft whisper, glancing up at the mural of Shadow Milk painted on the wall. He sounded like a man defeated, barely handing onto his will to live. Everything he did now was for Frosted Milk.
"Mm… aba!" Frosted Milk's expression turned to frustration. How sweet she was, unable to grasp that she would never be able to be held by her mother.
Pure Vanilla's expression only saddened, eyes drifting right past the former beast, landing on Frosted Milk. His hands stayed still in the air like he was unsure what to do. Tears continued to roll down his face.
"Mama!" Frosted Milk screeched as she tried reaching for Shadow Milk once more. "Mama…"
Her first word, and it was a cookie who was no longer around- no longer alive. The cruel irony of it all.
Shadow Milk sank to the floor, unable to pay attention to Frosted Milk and Pure Vanilla. Their voices were muffled. Drowned out by the thoughts swimming in his head. He would do anything–anything at all, no matter what–to try and make sure that his daughter grew up happy and cared for.
And oh, how much that struggle would be.