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The Dark Enchantress war had ended months ago.
Life continued, but it did so more peacefully. Most warriors spent days recovering strength they had lost during the fight, while many others kept to themselves as they adjusted to the grief of losing those who had once fought beside them.
Among those brought back from the battlefield was Dark Choco.
He had been found unconscious not long after the final clash had ended, discovered by a group of cookies sent to search the outskirts where the fighting had been most severe. His clothing had been damaged, his sword broken, and his dough bristled with cracks. The cookies who found him had carried him to the care of the many healers who had already been working tirelessly since the war’s final hours.
The healer's tents remained crowded during those days, being filled with recovering warriors and mages alike with support bringing milk, fresh cloth, and handfuls of Miraculous Natural Remedies from early mornings until well into the night. Dark Choco had remained there for some time while the healers worked through the worst of his injuries, ensuring that the wounds he carried would heal properly and that the damage left behind by the battle would not worsen with time.
During that time, Dark Cacao, injured himself, had visited Dark Choco’s tent often, with many conversations that neither father nor son had been able to avoid any longer. The discussions between them had not been easy ones. There had been much that needed to be addressed after everything that had happened, and the tent had provided the privacy where they could speak freely without interruption.
Of course, none of those conversations had been resolved or finished quickly. But the war had made it clear that leaving things unresolved was no longer an option either of them wished to accept.
Eventually, after enough time had passed for the healers to be satisfied with his condition, the Prince had agreed to return home.
Dark Choco had grown familiar with the healer’s office over the past few weeks.
He was often sick as a child, so the place wasn’t unfamiliar to him. The room itself was big enough, showcasing the same dark palette that most of the Kingdom’s interior shares. The walls were painted with a deep, wooden brown that would probably look black if it wasn’t for the lanterns illuminating the room.
Dark Choco sat on the oak, wooden chair across from the desk, arms resting across his lap. His posture had improved since his first visits, though his back still ached when sitting in the same position for too long.
The checkup was almost done, as the healer had been writing for the last minute or so. The scratch of ink on paper was the only sound in the room besides their breathing. Every so often, the healer paused to glance at the notes before starting a new line underneath.
Dark Choco wasn’t really focusing on that, he was much more interested on the tall shelf behind the other man, it was packed with bowls of herbs and glass bottles filled with shiny liquid that the prince had never seen before.
Though the curiosity didn’t last long, as the sound of the door sliding open caught his attention. They both turned their heads towards the sound, watching as the King stepped quietly inside and closed the door behind him.
“How is he doing?”
The healer finished the line he had been writing, scanning it once more as he spoke. “From what I can see, his strength is returning slowly,” he observed, putting the quill in the inkpot. “He remains somewhat malnourished, but that has been improving with regular meals. The physiotherapy will continue to help his aches.”
Dark Cacao gave a nod as he listened, Dark Choco knows he’s been attempting to make an effort to be present for all those who had been injured, not just him.
“And the eye?” Dark Cacao asked suddenly.
The healer turned his full attention towards the King. “Pardon?”
Dark Cacao continued. “The eye. Is there anything you can do about the eye?”
The healer hesitated, then shook their head gently. “Your Majesty… the damage is permanent.”
Dark Choco cringed in his chair. The topic was pointless, yet here it was, with his father resurfacing it again…
The hallways were just how the Prince remembered them, long and somewhat cold, with various different curtain patterns pulled aside from the windows to allow pale sunlight to shine through. Dark Choco’s cloak used to drag along the floors as he walked, but not anymore; it now brushed against his ankles.
“What was that about?” Dark Choco’s voice broke the silence.
Dark Cacao gaze remained forward. “What do you mean?”
“Why’d you ask the healer about my eye? I’ve told you it doesn’t trouble me that much, no?” He turned his head to look up at the King.
“Yes… yes, you have said,” Dark Cacao replied. “I am just trying to get the best possible care for you that is.”
A slight breeze came from the opened windows, they paused at the front door of Dark Choco’s chambers. Dark Cacao reached the door and slid it open slowly, lingering in the frame. He surveyed the room before stepping aside, giving his son space to enter.
The King immediately noticed the change. All the furniture had been moved around, the most noticeable one being the bed pushed closer to the wall next to the window, and the shelf which had been a mess of books was now completely empty.
“You rearranged everything?” Dark Cacao asked, staying near the entranceway.
Dark Choco moved towards his wardrobe, taking off his cloak. “Oh, yeah, I did… last night. I had trouble sleeping.”
“Why so?”
The Prince reached for a clothing hanger. “I could not tell you,” he admitted. “Sleep did not find its way to me, and I’d rather be up doing something than nothing at all.”
Dark Cacao questioned him. “Could you simply not sleep? Or were you having bad memories?”
Dark Choco's back remained turned, hanging up his cloak in its usual spot. “No, no… none of that. I just wasn’t tired, I suppose.”
Before the King could interrogate him further, Dark Choco spoke again, “Do you like the room?”
Dark Cacao blinked, taking in the rearrangements. “Well… it is cleaner,” he admitted. “But I do not appreciate your bed so close to the window.”
Dark Choco glanced over at it, tilting his head slightly. “It’s fine,” he shrugged.
The King stepped fully into the room, but not before taking off his boots. “Say, what are your plans for the remainder of the day?”
Dark Choco scratched the back of his neck. “I was thinking of going out… seeing if anyone needs help, with supplies and whatnot.”
Ever since returning home, he had felt an unrelenting need to prove himself - to who? He doesn’t know. Every small task or errand seemed like the least he could do to relieve whatever guilt he was having. He knew it was an inadequate attempt to pay for what had been done, but still…
Dark Cacao’s brow furrowed for the briefest moment. “The healers recommend you continue to rest,” he stated. “But… if you wish for something else to do, perhaps you could go to the gardens, see if you can find any logs for firewood?”
A soft sigh of boredom escaped Dark Choco. “I did that two moons ago… I doubt there’d be any left.”
Dark Cacao pointed a thumb towards the door. “Well… I have a fair few paperwork that needs to be done. You are more than welcome to accompany me and-”
Dark Choco’s hand shot toward the door handle, missing slightly before correcting himself. “You know what,” he said, throwing his cloak back on, “searching for firewood sounds lovely. Thanks for the idea.”
The King watched him brush by him and speedwalk to the door.
“Do not stray too far from the castle grounds…”
Dark Choco had only really gone out for some fresh air. It wasn’t that he minded being around his father - he didn’t - but holding conversations still felt a tad awkward. They had had their serious talks, yes, but some things remained uncovered, and it’s only a matter of that before they finally finish talking about everything, though he hoped, faintly, that it might go better than expected. Best-case scenario, they would talk it through and return to something like before - though he reminded himself that “before” hadn’t been that good either.
The Prince walked through the castle's colossal garden, inhaling the crisp air being brought from the tall, thick trees hanging over the fences - which is where he’s getting the wood from. The sun was concealed by the clouds, allowing him to stroll peacefully without having to squint. Rows of grey and green shrubs were scattered along the place, snow covering their top parts.
Dark Choco’s gloved fingers brushed over the rough bark of the logs he had carried, placing them carefully on a bench near the fence. He heard the sound of footsteps crushing on snow. Alert, he stood on the bench and peered over the garden fence.
“...Commander?”
The figure below nearly jumped out of his dough, flinching as he whirled his body around. “Your Majesty!? By the Witches, you scared the livin’ daylights outta me!” Crunchy Chip’s wide eyes met Dark Choco’s single eye.
The Prince tightened his grip on the fence. “That was not my intention… and please, just my name is fine.”
Crunchy Chip nodded, his shoulders relaxing. “Is everythin’ okay?”
“As okay as they can be,” Dark Choco replied, glancing briefly at the logs beside his feet before returning his gaze to Crunchy Chip. “What are you doing here?”
Crunchy Chip crouched down, his hands scooping up a small creamwolf pup that had been hidden in the thick snow, the little creature huffing happily and wagging its tail. “Training this little thing,” he said, holding the pup close to his chest. “Tryin’ to get her used to running through the snow… but I think she’s gettin’ too tired.”
Dark Choco looked down at the creamwolf pup nestled against Crunchy Chip’s chest. Its fur was soft and snowy white, marked with irregular black patterns that ran along its back and ears like his fathers tapestries brushstrokes. Its tiny paws dug into the commander's sleeve, leaving faint imprints, and the tips of its ears twitched as it let out small, excited huffs. Its dark, round eyes shimmered with curiosity and the tip of its pink tongue peeked out as it panted softly from the short bursts of play.
“She’s adorable,” Dark Choco said quietly. “Who are you training her for?”
Crunchy Chip drew the pup closer, cradling her carefully against his chest as he exhaled a shaky breath. “For me…”
Dark Choco tilted his head. “Why so?”
The smaller boy’s lips quivered, a puff of cold air leaving his mouth as his eyes flickered down at the pup. The Prince pursed his lips, hating the sight of Crunchy Chip’s sudden vulnerability.
“I’m… sorry…” Dark Choco whispered.
Crunchy Chip quickly readjusted the pup in one arm and harshly wiped at his eyes, shaking his head. “No… no it’s okay.” His voice was rough, trying to will away the shake that cracked through. “He was a good boy… I…” He sniffled, and he wiped his eyes again.
“I’m gonna go take this one back home,” he said finally, settling the pup more securely in his arms. “Glad to see you’re doing well.”
Dark Choco watched as Crunchy Chip began to walk away, the small creamwolf still snug against his chest, its head tilted back to look at him. The Prince didn’t tear his eyes away until he was out of sight.
“Goodbye, Commander,” Dark Choco murmured aloud to no one. “Stay safe.”
“I’m telling you… it’s fine, really.”
Dark Cacao slid the door closed behind them. Dark Choco paused and glanced around the King’s chambers. It hasn’t changed one bit.
“I just want to see something,” Dark Cacao pointed to the center of the room. “Sit.”
Dark Choco lowered himself carefully onto the floor behind the modest table platform. He let his hands rest on top of it, feeling the smooth wood beneath his fingertips. The material had an icy chill to it, but the room itself was chillier.
“Cold?” Dark Cacao asked, observing his son’s posture.
“I’m alright.”
Despite his words, Dark Cacao moved across towards his bed. He pulled a folded blanket from the end and draped it over Dark Choco’s shoulders.
“...Thanks…” Dark Choco murmured, adjusting the soft material.
Now sitting across from him, Dark Cacao pulled a small stack of cards from his pocket. He flipped one around slowly. “What do you see?”
Dark Choco leaned forward slightly, squinting at the image. He let out a long, slow sigh. “I see… What is that? A cone spruce tree?”
Dark Cacao nodded. “What about this one?” He placed another one before him.
“A dragon?”
“And this?”
Dark Choco blinked, staring at a rough sketch. “A brazier.”
“This-?”
“This is ridiculous,” Dark Choco rubbed at his temples. “I am not long nor short sighted.”
Dark Cacao placed the cards down carefully on the table. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. Slowly, he extended one hand, palm facing towards the boy. “Attempt to get your hand as close to mine without touching it.”
The Prince does so without complaint, the quicker he goes whatever his father wants the quicker he can leave. He adjusted the blanket around his shoulders, and extended his own hand. He inched it forward until his fingertips hovered just shy of Dark Cacao’s. Or at least he thought.
Dark Cacao peeked his head around, examining their hands before looking at Dark Choco. “How close do you think you are?”
“Um… as close as possible?” Dark Choco answered. He leaned around the edge of the table, craning just enough to catch the sight of the space between his hand and his father’s. There was a noticeable distance there.
“Oh…” Dark Choco’s hand remained hovering a moment longer before setting it down on the table. “I see what you mean now, I suppose. But it’s not a big deal.” He looked up and realised Dark Cacao’s hand was still suspended. The King’s mind seemed elsewhere.
Dark Choco shook the table lightly. “Hey.”
Dark Cacao’s eyes snapped over before shaking his head. “Apologies.” He gathered the cards and slipped them back into his pocket.
“It’s best you return to your chambers. You have your physiotherapy session tomorrow.”
Dark Cacao stood up. Dark Choco rose too, folding the blanket and tossing it back onto the bed. His back was hurting from sitting down that long anyways.
“Sit. Sitttt. Good girl.”
Crunchy Chip tossed a bone across the polished floor of the throne room. The creamwolf darted forward, snatching it mid-air before returning to him, tail wagging. “She’s a fast learner, ain’t she?” he grinned.
Dark Cacao eyed the pup, unblinking. “Indeed. However… I would appreciate it if you would wipe her paws next time you come in.”
Crunchy Chip glanced down. The pup had left muddy pawprints trailing behind her, they almost blended in with the dark, purple flooring. The throne room had changed ever since the war, the place felt much warmer, a different scent of incense waffling through the air, curling around the new tapestries that have been added.
“Ah, my bad, Your Majesty,” Crunchy Chip scooped up the creamwolf, who was now gnawing on the bone. “You sure I can just waltz into the healer’s wing for her? I usually gotta schedule in advance,” he asked, shifting slightly to balance the pup.
Dark Cacao folded his hands behind his back, eyes narrowing slightly. “Quite positive. If what you are telling me about her ears are true, then it is best you see a specialist as soon as possible.”
Before the King had wrapped his hands behind him, Crunchy Chip spotted an envelope in one of them. That pale blue seal is something he could recognise anywhere.
“A letter from the Pure Vanilla Kingdom?” his voice tightened. “Are… they okay?”
Dark Cacao pulled the letter out from behind his back. He ran a thumb along the edge before looking down at the commander. “They are fine,” he said truthfully. “But I will be over there by the end of this week.”
Crunchy Chip’s shoulders shifted, and a faint grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Ya need a bodyguard?”
The King’s lips curved into the smallest of smiles. “There is no need,” he replied, allowing himself to look around, taking in the new tapestries. “As far as we know, Earthbread is the safest it has ever been after the war.” The pup remained chewing on the bone. “Though… if you’d like to come, I am not opposed. I am sure my son will appreciate some company that isn’t just me.”
Crunchy Chip raised a brow. “The prince is coming with you?”
“Yes,” Dark Cacao looked at the envelope in his hand. “But do not tell him.”
Crunchy Chip straightened. “Got it. And uh… thanks for the offer, but I’m not too keen on letting this one out of my sight.” He scratched behind the pup’s ears, and she let out a soft, huffing whine, leaning into his hand. “She’ll cry the whole time. No creamwolf I've trained has ever been fond of heights.”
The creamwolf in question dropped a little drool onto the carpet. Dark Cacao watched the thin trail carefully, then looked back at Crunchy Chip. “…Allow me to escort you to the healer wing.”
Knock knock.
“Choco? Are you decent?”
The Prince’s voice called back from the closed door. “Yes! You can come in!”
Dark Cacao slid it open, scanning the room until he found his son crouched down on the floor, shoving clothing into a worn leather bag.
“Did I not tell you to prepare your belongings last night?” Dark Cacao asked resignedly.
“...Lost track of time,” Dark Choco admitted, fumbling with a folded cloak before stuffing it into the bag.
The King looked at the neatly made bed. “Did sleep come to you last night?”
Dark Choco zipped the bag and heaved it over his shoulder. “...Mostly.”
“Then we shall leave now. We are already behind on schedule,” Dark Cacao said, stepping into the hallway. He gestured forward, and Dark Choco followed.
They exited the castle, the tall building shrunk behind them as the morning air swept over the ramparts. The sun was just beginning to climb over the horizon, warming up their frost-bitten cheeks. Their boots crunched loudly through the snow as they made their way up the hill toward the airfield.
At the crest, the hot air balloon swayed gently in the soft wind, heated and ready. Its vibrant fabric reflected off the sunlight, the sight was familiar. Dark Choco paused when they made it to the top. He hadn’t been on one of these in a long, long time. He used to love the rare occasion his father brought him along on political trips. He would rest his arms on the edge, looking down at the endless forest they floated across. He remembers the feeling of his long hair being tousled by the wind, laughing as his father held onto his arm and scolded him for being too close to the edge. He felt as if he was on top of Earthbread.
He shook away the memory.
Dark Cacao worked quickly, gloved hands brushing the basket’s ropes, checking the harnesses and the strength of the flame. The burner hissed as he tested it, a short burst of heat pushing upward into the balloon’s wide canopy. The pair then stepped onto it, placed their bags down, and they were off.
Dark Choco’s hand closed around the railing. The material was cool and slightly rough against his glove. He leaned forward a little, watching the castle walls shrink below them until they became blurry.
“Going to check up on Pure Vanilla, you said?” Dark Choco kept his eye on the ground below. “Why not just send a letter?”
Dark Cacao adjusted the burner valve before answering. The flame roared briefly, pushing another wave of heat into the canopy.
“...A letter does not have the same effect,” he said. “And seeing him is the least I can do after everything he has done.”
Dark Choco nodded once. “That is fair.”
Strong winds moved through the open basket, tugging at Dark Choco’s cloak. He shifted his stance and looked down again. It was early morning, so all he could see now was fog. But it was still peaceful.
He rested both hands on the railing and leaned a little farther over the edge. It still felt… strange, being home. When he had been laid up in the healer’s tent after the war, all he could think about was getting back here. He had been sick. Homesick.
Now he was here, and he didn’t know what to make of it.
The hot air balloon finally came to a stop. When they were above, the Kingdom’s land had looked almost surreal - rolling hills painted in bright greens, with fields of flowers, and cream coloured buildings that reflected off the now afternoon sun - but the moment the basket settled on the stone platform, the heat of the place became impossible to ignore. The weather here was such a vast difference from back home. But the smell of milkcrown flowers and grass that has been baking beneath the sun for hours was a pleasant change.
Dark Choco stepped out after his father, boots touching stones that scorched beneath them. They haven’t even been landed for a minute, and the Prince was already stripping off his heavy cloak, reaching up almost to undo the clasp at his throat. The fabric slid from his shoulders, and he folded it carefully over his arms rather than stuffing it away, the thick material heated up his arms even more. He had to squint his eye to adjust to the brightness after hours spent in grey, dull fog.
Dark Choco hasn’t been here for a very long time…
As they began to make their way down the path leading from the landing terrace, Dark Choco found his eye drifting from one side to the next, everywhere he looked was beautiful, with fountains and flowers blooming from various houses. But it was painfully obvious that the streets were quiet, devoid from life. Strange.
After everything Earthbread had endured - the war, the destruction - it was strangely comforting to see a kingdom that appeared so… warm. Nothing here was anything like he had grown used to during his time under Dark Enchantress. That foul, vile time in his life.
Still, Dark Choco wasn’t an idiot. He had a good suspicion on why they were here.
He looked down at their bags Dark Cacao was holding. “Does Pure Vanilla know we’re here?” he asked at last.
Dark Cacao did not slow his pace. “Yes. Of course.”
He let a few more steps pass before asking another question: “How long are we staying?”
This time, Dark Cacao hesitated before answering. “…That is yet to be decided.”
The hesitation in his voice revealed very little, which only made Dark Choco more certain that his suspicions he was having weren’t entirely misplaced. In these past weeks, he can see that the King has been making an effort to change. To be nicer. But coming here to “check up” on Pure Vanilla was a vague and lame excuse.
Ahead of them, the palace towered above the surrounding city. The structure was just as grand as Dark Choco remembered, yet something about it seemed subtly different now that he was seeing it again after so long. From a distance, the palace had always appeared almost cream in his memory - but standing here at the base of it, he can’t help but notice there’s much more blue than he remembered. Also strange…
The steps made from marble had smoothed from footsteps over the years. The pair made their way up, once making it to the top, the doors swung open, and a familiar figure stood before him.
Pure Vanilla looked… so tired.
The eyebags he was sporting were unapologetically dark, his long hair tied up into a messy ponytail. Wait. Long hair…?
Pure Vanilla put a final step forward, getting between them and pulling them both into a firm hug. Their glances met briefly over Pure Vanilla’s shoulder awkwardly.
The room Pure Vanilla had brought them to was quiet, but not unpleasantly so.
The circular window had been pushed wide open to welcome the afternoon air. Sunlight poured into the room and onto the thick, flatweaved rug. The walls surrounding them were painted in pastel colours that mirrored the sky outside. Pale blues blended into warm creams, the hues clashed here and there by carefully painted murals that stretched across all four walls. Birds filled most of the artwork, their wings stretched wide as they soared across painted skies or perched delicately among clouds.
Dark Choco couldn’t help but stare
Pure Vanilla had prepared tea for them shortly after they arrived. The three of them sat on the rug surrounding a low marble table in the centre of the room, familiar to the one Dark Cacao has back home.
The small kettle rested on the table beside three delicate cups. Only one of the cups had been touched. Pure Vanilla held it loosely in his hands, the warm ceramic cradled between his palms as he sat cross-legged across from them.
Pure Vanilla took another slow drink before lowering the cup again. If he didn’t look that tired outside, then he definitely does so now.
“It has all been…” Pure Vanilla began, touching the edge of the table. “…a lot to take in.” He exhaled slowly before lifting the cup for another sip. “But I will be fine.”
Dark Cacao watched the other ancient place his cup back down, hands resting loosely on his knees while he listened.
“If anyone is capable of recovering from such trials,” he deep voice rang, “it would be you.”
Pure Vanilla chuckled softly, though the somewhat compliment didn’t ease the tension radiating off of him. He turned his head towards the Prince, resting a hand on the boy's knee.
“I’m so happy to see you, Choco,” he said warmly. “It has been far too long.”
Dark Choco straightened slightly where he sat, albeit caught off guard by the direct attention. He hadn’t spoken much since they entered the room, content to observe rather than interrupt the conversation between the two older cookies. It was also just a habit. When he was younger and in Kingdoms that weren’t his own, his father expected him to be silent when the adults were speaking.
“Likewise,” he replied simply.
Pure Vanilla gave a small hum of agreement before pushing himself slowly to his feet, brushing the folds of his robes straight as he stood. The faint clink of ceramic followed as he nudged the empty cup slightly aside to make space, though he didn’t bother returning it to the kettle tray, opting to instead reach for his staff nearby.
Then he turned slightly and patted to the chair tucked into a desk-table. “Okay,” Pure Vanilla nodded towards Dark Choco. “Come sit here, Choco.”
Dark Choco glanced briefly toward his father before pushing himself up from the floor. He does what he is told and untucks the chair before sitting down.
Pure Vanilla stood in front of him, simply observing. Carefully, his palm and fingers rested lightly against his cheek. Before Dark Choco could react, Pure Vanilla carefully tilted his face slightly to the side. The motion guided his chin downward just enough for the healer to examine the damaged eye socket more clearly.
He knew it. He knew this was the reason his father brought him here. And he made sure to let his father see the discomfort shown plainly on his face. His good and only remaining eye glared at Dark Cacao.
“I don’t mean to be insensitive,” Pure Vanilla started, “but I’m assuming you did not receive surgery to remove it. Am I correct?”
Dark Choco let out a sigh. “Why?” he muttered. “Is it ugly?”
Pure Vanilla’s expression softened. “Not at all,” he replied, still examining. “The markings inside simply indicate that it was not… professionally treated.”
His fingers shifted slightly as he spoke, with gentle care, he lowered Dark Choco’s eyelid and closed it again. The motion was slow and respectful, careful not to startle or hurt the boy.
“May I ask how?”
Dark Choco’s shoulders tensed eminently as the memories flooded in.
“I-”
The words died on his tongue. He swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the chair. Every day he tries to bury the memories, if he could erase them, so he never had to think of them again he would. He hates thinking about it. He hates the memory of pain. He hated what he had to do. He hated the cookie he had become. He hates himself. He hates he hates he hates-
He looked toward his father.
Dark Cacao had remained seated on the floor. When he saw the way his son’s voice had failed him, the King sat up and stepped forward. Rather than forcing Dark Choco to explain for himself, Dark Cacao spoke on his behalf.
Somewhere along the lines where he had been treated in the healers tent, he had told his father the story. Explaining how when Dark Choco would fail a task, Pomegranate Cookie would force her mirror onto Dark Choco’s injured eye, causing him to relive memories over and over again. Memories of betrayal and loss. Moments designed to trap him inside the past until he begged for her to stop.
On one particularly brutal night, the visions became something he could no longer endure - and in an act of desperation, Dark Choco had clawed the eye from its socket himself, severing the magical connection Pomegranate had been using to control him.
But in doing so, he lost the eye altogether.
The room fell deathly silent after Dark Cacao’s explanation. The warmth of the sunlight did not do anything to ease the coldness raking through Dark Choco. His hands stopped gripping the chair, now hanging loosely by the side. His gaze fixed somewhere beyond the open window where he could see the rooftops of houses below. His mind replayed that memory over and over again. It was like he was there again…
“Did I miss anything?” Dark Cacao looked down at Dark Choco briefly, scanning the face of his son for any sign of comprehension. Dark Choco shook his head absentmindedly, still tied up in the past.
Pure Vanilla let out a soft hum, placing a hand on the Prince’s back. “And currently,” he whispered, not wanting to startle the boy, “do you experience any pain?” The question pulled Dark Choco back to the present, and he snapped his attention to the older cookie, blinking rapidly before forcing his voice steady. “Oh, uh… it flares up occasionally,” he admitted, “but it’s not bad. I can manage it.”
Dark Cacao’s brows drew together as he peered down to stare at his son. “What? You never told me about that?”
Pure Vanilla quickly offered reassurance. “I can help with the flaring,” he rubbed up and down Dark Choco’s back, “but for the injury itself…” The sadness in his expression was impossible to ignore. “I’m sorry,” he sighed in regret, “there is nothing I can do about it.”
Pure Vanilla’s face was filled with sorrow, he wishes he could help, but he just can’t. The healer shifted his attention, grabbing Dark Cacao by the arm and guiding the King firmly toward the doorway. Before Dark Cacao could protest, Pure Vanilla led him just beyond the room’s threshold and closed the door behind them. They have to keep their voices down to not let Dark Choco hear, as the hallway was silent except for the occasional tweeting of a blue bird.
Pure Vanilla leaned in close, lowering his. “Tell me,” he said, his hand brushing lightly against the other cookie’s shoulder, “what are you thinking?”
Dark Cacao focused towards the sky, taking in the blue above the palace spires before taking the healer's hand off his shoulder and into his own.
“I am thinking of how… useless I have become,” he pursed his lips absentmindedly. “I do not know what I was thinking bringing him here…”
Pure Vanilla’s hand clasped around his friends. “I am not even going to entertain the idea of you being useless,” he challenged. “But what I said before was true. If his eye had still been there… if it had been intact, I might have been able to restore it. But it is completely gone, Dark Cacao.”
The healer’s other hand gripped his staff harder. “It is different for me,” he continued. “I was born with poor vision. It is all I have ever known. Therefore, I cannot restore it. But my staff helps me, and that has been enough. That is all I need to function.”
Dark Cacao shook his head. “I am… unsure of what to do anymore,” he admitted, tightening his hold on Pure Vanilla’s hand. “I cannot give up.”
Pure Vanilla’s hand fell out of the embrace and found its way onto his heart.
“My dearest friend. Every cookie you encounter will tell you the same thing I have told you. There is nothing that can be done for him. I’m sorry.”
They spent three nights at the Pure Vanilla Kingdom, and Dark Choco hates to say it, but he was extremely bored.
He helped whenever he was allowed to, whether that be organising papers and having tea sessions with the healer. Honestly, he just stuck by Pure Vanilla’s side whenever he wasn’t in the guest bedroom. He didn’t feel like being around his father…
By the morning of the fourth day, it was clear Dark Cacao was getting restless being so far from his Kingdom.
The journey back was quiet, the hot air balloon doing all the talking. Dark Choco, wrapped once again in his cloak against the harsh winds, pressed his hands lightly against the basket railing, observing what he could see down below. Doing literally quite anything that wasn’t engaging conversation with Dark Cacao.
Once home, the Prince found himself at his physiotherapy session. The place was starting to become familiar. It was the same physio every time, working on subduing the aches that coerced through his dough. When he first started going, his body was saw and his limbs were stiff, but now as he made progress, the achings had turned dull and tolerable - reminding himself that even he is capable of recovery.
After the session finished, the physio noted down his progress with approval, and Dark Choco allowed himself the feeling of accomplishment before heading out the door.
Too eager to head back to his chambers, he rounded a corner too quickly, and collided with a stranger on the other end.
No. Not a stranger.
“My prince…” Caramel Arrow, her hands pressed lightly against his chest as she ensured neither of them fell. “It’s been so long…”
“Please,” Dark Choco stressed. “Just Choco is fine. And yes… it has, hasn’t it?” His eyes softened as they met hers, this was quite the unexpected reunion.
Caramel Arrow’s hair was down, and she ran a hand through it. Her eyes switched from one of his to the other closed one, unsure where to look when talking. “I… I would have come sooner, of course, but I wanted to give you space,” she admitted, a faint flush rising across her cheeks. She shifted the box that was underneath her arm.
She goes on to explain how she has been relieved from her duties until the end of the year to recover. But insisting she’s completely fine now, and she wants to help around in any way she could. So that is why she’s here - helping the healers, fetching supplies, doing anything she could.
“I just want to help,” she urged, looking down at the contents within the box. “All I wish to do is make myself useful. I want to help! I want to train… perhaps with you… like old times.”
Dark Choco listened to her words. Hearing her voice again was nice. “It is by the healer’s orders that we rest,” he said carefully. “The King will be extremely upset if he sees me doing physical work...”
She gave a sad nod. It’s all just wistful thinking. “I know, Choco…” she murmured. “…I’ve just missed you. It’s good to have you back.”
“Arm higher… okay… very nice… shoot!”
The archery fields was a place many Cacaoian warriors were used to, no matter if your preferred choice of weapon wasn’t a bow and arrow.
The place itself was a mess of uneven, patchy snowy grass from footsteps embedded over the years. The wooden targets themselves had countless marks from arrows. For Dark Choco, the sight reminded him of times spent here with Caramel Arrow, practicing tirelessly, laughing when arrows missed the bullseye by inches, and celebrating the perfect shot.
“That was so good! Just above mine!” Caramel Arrow exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. Her eyes sparkled as she watched the arrow quiver in the target, this was her favourite thing in all of Earthbread.
Crunchy Chip leaned forward, narrowing his eyes playfully. “Nah, I’ll get it this time. Watch.” He drew another arrow from the quiver and pulled the string. This time, it landed just below the target, and he groaned, “Witches damn it! This is why I stick to my claws.” He set the bow down beside him and glanced over at Dark Choco, who was sitting quietly on a nearby bench.
“Wanna try?” Crunchy Chip asked.
Dark Choco shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m happy just supervising,” he said, pushing the pinecone that had fallen near his feet away. “It’s… nice just to watch for a change.”
Crunchy Chip reached for the bow again. “Aw, c’mon. Just one,” he insisted, doing a double take once he saw the small creamwolf chewing on a pinecone, pointing an accusing finger toward the culprit. “Oi! Stop chewing that, you damn pup!”
The Prince leaned down from the bench, reaching down toward the pup before the pinecone got torn to shreds. The pup resisted for half briefly, but he gently worked it free from her mouth and tossed the mangled thing into the bushes bordering the field. The pup watched her little chew toy disappear, ears twitching, though one of them lagged slightly behind the other.
Beside him, Caramel Arrow stepped forward and picked up her own bow. She planted her boots carefully into the grass, lifted the bow, and the arrow flew straight and true, striking the center of the target.
Crunchy Chip let out a low whistle. “Alright, show-off.”
Caramel Arrow lowered the bow, pleased with herself. “Did you end up taking her to the healers?”
“Hm? Oh-yeah.” He rubbed behind his neck, glancing toward. “She can’t hear out one of her ears.”
The bow-wielder chuckled. “So she wasn’t just ignoring your calls?”
Dark Choco reached forward and lifted the pup before she could cause more trouble, settling her carefully into his lap as he leaned back against the bench. The creamwolfs tail thumped happily against his thigh.
“How come?” She continued, resting the bow against the rack.
Crunchy Chip shrugged, hands settling on his hips. “Just born with it.”
The pup in question seemed to decide that Dark Choco’s face was extremely interesting. Before he could react, she scrambled up his chest and began enthusiastically licking his cheek and jaw, her tail wagging with such force it could be used as a sword. The sudden affection caught him off guard, and a laugh slipped out before he could stop it.
Crunchy Chip’s eyes widened. “Hey-!” He jogged over quickly, scooping the pup up before she could continue her mischief. She squirmed in his arms, clearly unwilling to end the inspection so soon.
“Sorry!” he offered, shifting her under one arm while she wriggled. “I’m still training her. She’s a pain in my ass.” He nods down to Dark Choco’s eye. “She didn’t, uh… hurt you, did she?”
The Prince wiped the side of his face with his sleeve before settling back against the bench again. “It’s fine,” he insisted. “And no, she did not.”
Seeing a creamwolf so small was new to Dark Choco. Pups were trained in private, and the Prince himself was not a tamer. The only time apart from now he’s seen a small one was when he strayed away from Dark Enchantress and spent his time in the forest. He was never allowed pets growing up, but he always wanted one. Some small animal to follow him through the castle halls or curl up at the foot of his bed after long days. But Dark Cacao had rarely ever allowed animals inside the castle walls - not wanting to have muddy paw prints, torn carpets, claws against polished floors, guards distracted from their duties - which was honestly fair enough.
Watching the small creamwolf now, he wondered briefly what it might have been like.
Crunchy Chip shifted the pup higher against his shoulder. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” Dark Choco brushed a bit of snow from his sleeve. “Even if she did, Pure Vanilla gave me a potion to put on it when it flares.”
Caramel Arrow walked over and lowered herself onto the bench beside him. “How often does it flare?”
Dark Choco tilted his head as he thought about it. The breeze brushed through his hair, carrying the smell of pine.
“I’d say… a couple nights a week.”
Crunchy Chip frowned a little. “How bad does it hurt?”
“It’s tolerable.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as looked toward the target's. Several arrows displayed next to each other, only one was on the bullseye. “Which is why I don’t understand the King’s… obsession with trying to do something about it.” His fingers laced together loosely. “It’s gone. There’s nothing he can do.”
Crunchy Chip and Caramel Arrow’s eye met.
“Um… forgive me if I sound rude,” Crunchy Chip began, placing the creamwolf down on the floor, “but… have you ever thought of other reasons on why he’s tryna’ help?”
Dark Choco played with the hem of his cloak. “I… what do you mean?” His brow creased at the thought. “Like… trying to fix my depth perception?”
Caramel Arrow reached up and ran a hand through her hair, looking down toward the grass at their feet before lifting back to him again. “Perhaps,” she said after a moment. “But… maybe because he could feel guilty about it.”
“Guilt?” Dark Choco repeated, the crease in his brow deepening. Yes, he knew his fathers obsession with trying to “fix” his injury was clear - but he assumed it was just to help him see better again… not from guilt.
Caramel Arrow fiddled with a strand of hair between her fingers. “It would make sense.”
Dark Choco looked away toward the archery targets again as his thoughts drifted back over the last few weeks: the healer visits, the questions about his eye, the tests with the cards in his father’s chamber, the trip to Pure Vanilla…
“No…” he murmured, almost to himself. “I’ve never thought of it like that.”
The bench changed in weight as he pushed himself to his feet. Caramel Arrow stood as well.
“I have to go,” he said, nodding between the two of them.
“Thank you both for… spending time with me.”
The war room was a place Dark Cacao spent many days of his life in. But now, the place looked less like a war room and more of a research study. But even so, the atmosphere had never truly changed.
A map of Earthbread covered every inch of the back wall. There were some old campaign charts pinned from years ago, faded now and marked with coffee stains. The newer ones were cleaner copies that had been layered on top of the originals as new alliances formed.
But he had no use for those anymore. Or anyone else for that matter.
But what changed the most in this room was the long war table. Usually, It would have been cleared every morning, wiped clean so new strategies could be laid across its surface. Now it was buried beneath an uneven spread of open books and annotated books.
Dark Cacao slouched in his chair, analysing the open book before him His gloved finger traced a line of text slowly - “How long nerve tissue survives after trauma.”
The phrase had been underlined in dark ink, the pressure of the pen nearly bleeding through the paper beneath it, and several more passages alongside it were underlined the same.
It was night now, and his only source of light had burned out. Sighing, he picked up a match and re-lit the candle.
Blowing out the match, his attention returned to the table. He reached for another scroll, unrolling it carefully across the table and weighing the corners down with a pair of ink bottles so it would remain flat.
The wax from the candle melted slowly down the sides, dripping onto the stone table as time passed.
“Perhaps my efforts are not entirely misguided," he thought to himself. “If he trusted me enough to confide in me about everything.”
The King blew out the candles.
Dark Choco had not planned what he was going to say.
Each step through the corridor and down to the Dark Cacao’s chambers, the same sentence replayed in his head:
This had gone far enough.
Standing in front of the door, he only knocked once before realising it was unlocked by a slight gap. Dark Choco slid the door open a tad. Empty. His fathers absence was noticeable. Strange, he never leaves it unlocked, he must be stepping out for only a short while. Quickly, by the look of it; the lantern on each table still burned bright.
Dark Choco sucked in a breath and stepped inside. He didn’t want to hover in the doorway like a stranger, so he crossed to the desk and lowered himself into the chair. It was uncomfortable.
The lantern on the desk flickered before stopping - through the window, left open a crack.
The wind grew stronger, and paper slid off the edge of the desk. Instinctively, he caught it, barely. He spared the paper just once glance. That was enough to see a diagram of an eye. He put it down.
This has to stop.
He heard his father before he saw him - carrying a cup of what Dark Choco assumes is coffee. He stopped when he saw his son sitting at his desk. The confusion on his face was evidently clear.
"Did I leave my door unlocked?"
"Yes."
"I see."
He puts the coffee on a place on the table that isn’t a mess of papers. Dark Choco watches him move next to him and simply starts gathering the papers into a neat stack, not questioning why his son was in here - the sounds of creamwolves howling outside brought a memory back to him.
"When I used to be out on my own, a creamwolf would stay near my camp some nights when I lit a fire."
Dark Cacao is still tidying. He's listening though.
"When she had her pups, one of them wasn't like the others. It had a limp." He glances at the stack of papers. "When the mother came back with food the others all rushed her. The runt couldn't keep up, so it hung back. The mother didn't do anything about it. Just let it figure things out." He pauses. "After a few days I noticed it had stopped using the leg entirely."
His father's hands fell still on the desk.
"What a smart puppy."
"He gnawed it off."
Dark Cacao finally looked down at his son. His son was not looking at him.
“He cried for a while,” Dark Choco continued, his hands tightening into fists, “I wanted to try and help but… I knew then that everything happened for a reason, and I'd be interfering with mother nature. But the next time the mother returned with food, it ran with the rest of them.”
“And you are telling me this because…?”
Dark Choco’s mouth gaped. “Seriously!? I… I’m telling this because I-well-I-” His words broke, he regrets not planning this through.
“You believe that story applies to you?”
Dark Choco let out a short breath. “I know it does. You know it does! The leg was useless, he didn’t need it!” He pushed up and off the chair, having a sudden surge of anger.
“I know you aren’t stupid! But this!” He gestured to all the papers. “All this! Is just wishful hoping. What’s done is done. So just drop it!”
He stayed standing, waiting for his father to say something, anything.
“I understand you are upset. I do. But I-” Dark Cacao began before he was interrupted.
“Because you’re making me upset!” Dark Choco shouted, his voice cracking as he jabbed a finger at the taller man.
“Calm down, Choco. You-”
“I don’t understand why you feel so guilty! It’s… it’s what I get, right? I hurt you so it’s only fair…” His hands dropped to his sides, and for the first time in a very, very long time - heavy drops of tears slid down his right cheek. Upset with himself, he sped walk towards the door, leaving the scene entirely.
Dark Cacao quickly followed him out. “Wipe your tears, boy. We can have a civil conversation-”
“Why do you even care!?” he shouted over his shoulder, his voice echoing off the cold walls. Harshly wiping the tears as he walked faster.
“Dark Choco! Do not make a scene-”
“Does it remind you of the past? The cold, ugly past. Is that why you’re trying to cover it up, hm?” His steps faltered slightly.
“No! Well… I do get reminded-” Dark Cacao caught up, reaching one hand out to grab the boy's shoulder.
“Oh right, because it’s just always about you, isn’t it!?” Dark Choco snapped, spinning toward him suddenly, smacking his hand away.
Even before the cursed Strawberry Jam Sword, they would argue, quite frequently if Dark Cacao remembered correctly. But their little fights would never bring Dark Choco trembling and in tears. Seeing his son like this, so vulnerable in their own home, hurts the King more than he could admit.
He wonders if Dark Choco used to cry like this in his bedroom after arguing.
“…Where is this all coming from-”
Dark Choco scoffed and turned abruptly, walking away again. “You just want to cover your tracks. You cannot bear to see the reminder of disappointment you raised-”
“Enough, Dark Choco! Enough!”
Dark Choco flinched and whipped his head around at the yell, assuming that he’d be met with the familiar anger on his fathers face.
Instead, he was met with tears.
Dark Choco’s breathing slowed, suddenly hyper aware of everything that was happening. He had never seen his father cry. Not once, in his whole entire life. But now that he has, we wishes for it to stop.
“I have worked tirelessly these past months to ensure you are adjusting… and are comfortable,” Dark Cacao breathed, trying to wrench the tears away. “I am not just… not just trying to put a band-aid over a deep wound. I want to make sure you won’t have to be in pain anymore. Or ever again. But… hearing your words… hearing you call yourself a disappointment…” He swallowed and looked down. “…It’s just a reminder that I am doing it all over again.”
The anger that plagued Dark Choco’s heart vanished entirely. “…Doing what all over again?”
“Failing you.” The words came without hesitation. His hand lifted, brushing at his face, but they only smeared the wetness across his cheeks. “…I am failing you again, aren’t I?”
The King pressed his back against the wall, sliding down slowly until he was seated on the cold floor, knees bent up. His head fell forward, resting against his folded arms. Each breath that he took came shaky, mind plagued with everything he’s spent months trying to protect, trying to fix, trying to undo what could not be undone.
Dark Choco swallowed down the lump forming in his throat. The sight stunned him in place, but also upset him. Cautiously, he walked closer and sank to the floor beside him, careful not to touch him. Though he was wearing his gloves, the cold floor steeped into his dough as his hands pressed onto it, biting back the tears that had started to form again.
He wasn’t usually a crier.
“I… I don’t know,” he said at last, strained. The lump in his throat refused to go away.
Dark Cacao lifted his head slightly, but not before wiping his damp cheeks. “Do you even… feel comfortable back? Have I at least done something right?”
Dark Choco could hear the sound of defeat in the King’s voice. Rare.
“I feel as though… I’m adjusting well,” he admitted truthfully.
“Good,” Dark Cacao sniffled. “That… that is good.” He brought a hand to his face again, wiping at the tears he had let fall. “Apologies… I hate you seeing me in such a state.”
Dark Choco’s hand brushed briefly along the floor toward his father’s. “No, no… Father, it’s okay. Really, it is. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
Right then, right there, he made a promise to himself. He would never let it happen again. Never let his anger flare to the point that he would see his father like this. Never again. He could hold everything else inside, but this, this he would not do.
“Nonsense. You had every right to.” Dark Cacao continued. “It is true,” his eyes were fixed on a point just beyond Dark Choco, though he wasn’t really looking anywhere. “Every time I look at you, I remember the pain I have inflicted… is what I was saying before you interrupted.”
Dark Cacao leaned back. “And don’t you ever say you deserved what happened again… please.” His eyes flicked toward Dark Choco for the briefest instant before he looked away again. “And if you truly feel that way… maybe the healers were right, and it’s time to put you in that ‘therapy’ thing we have.”
Dark Choco kept his head bent, staring at the cold floor.
“Or you could… talk with me instead?” Dark Cacao offered, sensing his son’s hesitation.
Therapy… the Prince didn’t know how he felt about that. No matter how many cookies told him they were glad to have him back, there’s that nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him no matter how hard he tries, he’ll always be seen as a traitor to the Kingdom. So is he even worthy of help?
And that was the ugly, bitter truth. He had been a traitor, and there’s nothing that he could do to erase the terrible past.
Dark Choco sighed. “Yes… I’d prefer that. But… perhaps not anytime soon.”
The Prince wiped at the remaining tears clinging to his lashes. Eager to change the sombre mood, he scanned over his father. “I like your hair.”
“Pardon?”
“Your hair,” Dark Choco repeated, motioning vaguely with one hand. “It’s… different.”
Dark Cacao took a strand between his fingers. “Yes. It just… happened, I suppose.”
The Prince's fingers itched to touch something, and without thinking, he lifted a small strand of his own hair. It was way shorter now, uneven where he had hacked it himself with his blade months ago, a jagged reminder of the past and the choices he had been forced to make. “Do you… do you ever think mine will grow that long again?”
Dark Cacao shuffled beside him, easing himself closer. One hand lifted carefully and raked through the boy’s soft hair. “Seems like it,” he observed simply. “Would you want it to?”
Dark Choco didn’t even have to think about it. “I’d like that.”
The King’s hand brushing over the crown of his head drifted downwards until it found its way to Dark Choco’s cheek. The pad of his father’s thumb rested beneath the hollow of his eye socket, brushing against a ragged scar. The physical contact made the boy’s breath hitch; tears welling up (damn the witches and these stupid tears!). He pressed his head against Dark Cacao’s shoulder, selfishly allowing himself to be held.
“Stop with the tears,” Dark Cacao murmured lowly, though his voice carried no anger. “I hate it.” Dark Choco could tell he was saying that so his own tears don’t start again.
The King’s hand still rested on his face. “Does it… hurt when I touch here?”
“Yes,” Dark Choco said bluntly. “Immensely.”
He lifted his head up, looking at his father with a small grin. “Kiss it better?”
Dark Cacao didn’t know whether to chuckle at the sudden request, or to scold him for making him flinch with that blunt “Yes.” Dark Cacao’s chest tightened. He knew he wasn’t good at this - never had been. Showing affection had always felt strange, one he had stumbled over for years. But here, now, he would do better for his son.
For the first time since he came home, Dark Choco got a full night’s sleep.
His eyes fluttered open, feeling plenty energised for once.
Though the peace didn’t last long. A knock at the door yanked him fully awake. His body shot up before relaxing. He rubbed his eye and slid his slippers on, making his way towards the door.
“Commander? Is everything alright?” Dark Choco asked, blinking off the remnants of sleep.
“Mornin’! I didn’t wake ya, did I?” Crunchy Chip asked. Seemingly awfully cheery for… whatever the time may be.
“It’s fine,” Dark Choco shrugged before feeling a weight at his feet. The creamwolf had made itself comfortable on his slippers. He bent down, scratching the spot behind her ears.
“I, uh…” Crunchy Chip started, rubbing the back of his neck. “…I know it’s early, but I won't be able to see you till later. I’m out helpin’ around today.”
Dark Choco stood to his full height. “You needed to see me?”
The commander smiled. “Yeah! To give you yer’ present.”
“Present…?” Dark Choco echoed, last time he checked, his birthday isn’t for a couple of months. “What present?”
Crunchy Chip nodded down toward the small creamwolf at his feet. “She’s… she’s yours now.”
Dark Choco’s brow furrowed. He bent down to pick the tired pup up in his arms. “What? What are you talking about?”
Crunchy Chip reached out the scratch under the pup's chin. “We already have enough creamwolves as warriors… so it was decided to train this one as a guide wolf.”
Dark Choco’s mind raced. A creamwolf in the castle, trained to follow him, to be his constant companion. “And you’re… you’re giving her to me?”
“Yeah,” Crunchy Chip tapped under his own eye. “’Cause… y’know.” He cleared his throat. “We all know yer’ quite capable. But… it’s good to have some company, yeah?”
Dark Choco couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He looked at the creamwolf in his arms, how she seemed to be napping and trusting him already. “A creamwolf? In the castle? I… I don’t think my father will like that…”
“Actually,” Crunchy Chip let the words draw out. “It was his idea.”
Dark Choco scanned the commander's face, searching for any signs of lies. But there was nothing. Maybe… maybe his father really was changing for the best. Allowing Dark Choco a pet? If it was the old him, never in a million years.
“Of course it was,” he smiled softly, scratching the top of the pups head, she leaned into him subconsciously.
Crunchy Chip grinned back. “Don’t worry, Choco. She’s got a good nose, good instincts… she’ll take care of you as much as you take care of her.”
They exchanged a few more words before soon saying their goodbyes. Dark Choco closed the door behind him, walking to his bed and setting the creamwolf down. She curled into a content ball. The prince watched as she made herself comfortable.
He’ll ask Dark Cacao about all the details later - he knows his father, there’s probably going to be rules for his, yes his puppy.
But for now, he'll allow himself the sense of peace.