Chapter Text
Shadow milk's hands were stained permanently red, souls of the Vindictive weighing down his mind and body, attempting to pull him back down from high ground. He had done it. He had gotten his main role. The old king had died of illness, at least that's what the peasants thought; no one suspected the right-hand man, the side character, the jester, ever to harm his dear, close friend. It made him laugh; he had managed to make a fool of an entire country, and they didn't even know. The last king had borne no kin, had no wife, nothing to his name in death. He happily signed away what little he had to shadow milk in his final moments, leaving his best and most trusted friend the power that he once bore heavily on his head. The crown was his.
He was digging through alliance proposals, tossing them out left and right. All suck-ups, pathetic kingdoms hoping to make a good impression. He'll have them all conquered in a week. One stood out: a future wedding proposal to first kin. An upcoming arranged marriage, with the promise of the next heir to be betrothed to his. It was thoughtful, of course, two kingdoms in one package deal, more future power. The thought of a quiet backstab and dramatic reveal revelled beneath his fingertips, a dark chuckle escaping his chest.
"Oh, how fun~!" He laughed, "Handing their heads to me on a silver platter, ready to be cut to the liking! Well, I may as well take the opportunity; there's no point in declining such an unstable offer." He sits down at his desk, pulling out parchment and a quill. "With terms and conditions, of course." His hand flew across the paper, scribbling down words in fancy font. The terms?
‘Permissions must be provided at the deal signing. All power will be granted beforehand. In the case of a loss or no provided heir, all power shall be transferred to King Shadow Milk, and those providing will work under his majesty.’ In reality, if they did fail to provide an heir, he wouldn’t keep them around long. All the power would be his, but if this kingdom was desperate enough to hand their firstborn right to him? There was no way they could decline. The only issue was that he didn’t even have a wife to ensure he could uphold his end of the deal. He can shapeshift, sure, but he can’t summon or create a child out of thin air; that’s not how babies work (sadly). A grumble escaped his throat, and he was already second-guessing his decision.
“Ew, that means I have to find someone to have a kid with me,” He cringes. “Whatever, I’ll kidnap a random baby from the orphanage or something.” The halls towered ahead as he stepped out of his room, paintings of him dressed in silk and framed in gold. Sapphire walls with white borders calming the mind like a lullaby. His boots echoed on the quartz tile as he headed for the mail quarters to send off his reply. Days go by, and he finds a response. A call letter sits on his desk, beckoning him to the faerie kingdom for the deal signing. His lips curled into a terrifying smile, staring down at the ladder as if they had signed their souls away to him… which technically, they had. He was quick to pack his necessities, brushing through his hair and calling a servant to prepare a carriage for his journey.
By the time he left the kingdom, it had started to rain. Heavy drops pelted against the carriage, drawing out the rest of the world as he stared at the call letter. The yellowed paper has a small purple stain on the corner, and upon touching it, a strange luster on his fingertips. He knew it all too well. How could he not recognize it after years of brewing potions in the dark? “How odd. This smell and colour, quite… distinct.” A terrifying grin spread across his face, ear to ear. “This prince and his lovesick words… I wonder if he’s drinking it on his own. Oh, it will be quite entertaining if it isn’t.” The ride was rough, and soon, the rain was muffled. They had entered the faerie forest and were approaching the castle at a rapid pace. The doors split open before him as he walked in, his heels clicking against the tile, echoing across the hall like a porcelain cup tapping its plate. The guards tensed at the encroaching king, and the meeting door was quickly opened for him. He took his seat at the round table, hiding his surprise at the fact that the meeting was being held in an indoor garden.
“Welcome! I hope you brought the deal papers?” The current faerie king spoke, and Shadow milk hadn’t bothered to log his face within his mind. He’d be gone soon enough. He quickly slipped the papers out of his stachel and onto the table, and the fool signed the papers without second thought. The rat had walked right into the trap.
“I must thank you for having me over. The kingdom is quite lovely!” Shadow milk gestures around. “Truly, it is an honor to be here in your presence.” He clasped his hands together. The princess nodded. “It’s an honor to have you here as well. I apologize for the lack of a proper introduction. I’m White Lilly Cookie, and this is my fiancé, Pure Vanilla Cookie.” The prince waves, smiling softly before looking back at the princess with the craziest, lovesick expression. A chill went down Shadow Milk’s spine.
“Does he have a mouth to speak?’ He mutters under his breath before clearing his throat. “I’m Shadow Milk Cookie! The newly appointed king of the Kingdom of Shadow.” He smiles brightly, seemingly innocent to unknowing eyes. A servant brings in a large tray of food and sets separate plates in front of everyone at the table. Something odd? Pure Vanilla’s plate already had food on it. “Ah- Why can’t he eat the same food as the rest of us?” He asks innocently. White Lilly’s face cycles through a set of expressions. Bingo.
“Ah- Pure Vanilla follows a- ahem- special diet. Some things upset his stomach more than most.” She speaks, taking the prince’s hand. He looks at her with that stupid look and lovesick smile, and Sow Milk just forces himself not to gag. “But all of the things on his plate- are those not the same dishes on the platter?” He smiles softly, and the princess looks away nervously. The king cuts the conversation with a cough, and the meal continues with the two passing looks to eachother. Shadow milk could smell the love potion from across the table, and with those nervous glances? He was most certain Pure Vanilla was unaware he had been slipping it this whole time, and the king knew. The rat had found a way out of the trap, but was headed straight for the guillotine. Oh, how fun! Shadow milk could only hope this game would last long.