Chapter Text
Three days. Three days of hell. Three days since he found her, three days he’s slept in the spare room because he couldn’t bring himself to sleep in his usual bed knowing the scent of lilies wouldn’t be right next to him, knowing his only reminder of her would be the bed sheets. Knowing if he slept in his bed he would eventually fade the smell with his vanilla. Three days since he saw her note, three days of being more closed off than anyone in the kingdom had ever seen him. Three days of spending his time locked in the garden he made oh so long ago for his lover, the garden he married her in, the garden that he kept up for years just so he would remember her scent when she was away the first time. But at least back then she came back.
He hadn’t been more of a wreck, sure he had always eaten poorly, had always put himself under others even if it harmed himself- but it had gotten worse. A lot worse. He hadn’t eaten in 3 days now, had barely slept, barely entered his own room, and barely left the gardens.
And now he sit in front of a grave he made day of. Her true grave? No. That resided in the faerie kingdom. He wanted to say no, to tell them to bury her in the vanilla kingdom- but alas.
Before, back when there was at least a hope that she could return it had been easier. He would tend to his garden and never let the hope fade. And it ended up in marriage. A marriage he thought could never crumble. A marriage He thought would never end. They were immortal after all, what could go wrong?
Yet now he sit here. In front of the memorial he made her himself. His staff next to him, cheeks puffy and eyes red and irritated from crying for so long. He had his knees pulled up to his chest. He wanted to ball his fists, to scream- Yet one hand, held the ring he slipped on her finger the day they married, and the other held her note. That beautiful handwriting she always claimed was sloppy written as her final goodbye. And it hurt more every time he read it.
He wasn’t looking at the ring. It felt too hard to look at it, so he spun It between his fingers, hiccuping quietly, sniffling softly. Wishing to feel her soft dough wrap around him and tell him it would be okay. That there would always be a tomorrow- But how could he believe a tomorrow would come when he knew that she would never come back. When he knew she was gone. It didn’t matter who told him it would be okay. It didn’t matter if it was Dark Cacao, or Golden Cheese, or Hollyberry, none of them would change the fact White Lily Cookie was gone. None of them could change the fact the one cookie he adored would never come back.
He couldn’t think straight. He hadn’t been able to since he found her. Hadn’t been able to enter their shared room since he walked back in from his meeting, tired and ready to just curl up to her like he did every night, just to find her dough cold. To find a note folded so carefully on the nightstand, the one last time she had said she loved him was on that note. He had sat there for at least 3 hours just trying to wake her. Begging it to not be true, because what else were you meant to do when your lover does something like this?
He had known she hadn’t been in the best mental space. Had been trying to love her more, had been making her favorite food, talking to her daily, trying his best to make sure she was okay and now it all felt like a pathetic attempt to stop someone who had made up their mind ages ago. Ages before she had even returned to the vanilla kingdom maybe. Had his efforts really been so pathetic? So useless? Would it be best to crumble himself to rid of the pain?
He couldn’t sleep anymore. And when he tried he would just remember her arms around him, her hair so soft against him when she turned her back to sleep more comfortably, her voice so soothing after beast yeast he just wanted to melt into it. How she’d hold him as though he were so important when he would wake up sweating in the middle of the night grasping around him trying to figure out what was real and what wasn’t when he had nightmares.
How she looked in her wedding gown, their photos still hung up in his room too painful to take down, but too painful to look at. The room still smelled like vanilla and lilies. At least he assumed it did, he couldn’t bring himself to enter it anymore. Couldn’t bring himself to step out and say hello to the bluebirds which he used to share his hope too when he had days he thought about White Lily, telling them how excited he was for the day he would get to see her face. There was no point in that anymore. Because there was no seeing her anymore. There was no more of her voice comforting him through times where he’d look at his own reflection and see how disgusting he was. Her hands on his telling him to eat with that expression he couldn’t bring himself to say no too, even if it was just a small snack.
He remembered sitting on his knees on their bed, able to just be kids again for a moment braiding her hair so gently while she talked about whatever came to mind. He remembered times when they were kids. Sneaking into the library going to the restricted section late at night while he trailed behind worried they’d get caught, when they’d sit on her bed and she’d tutor him though the subjects he had a hard time understanding.
He remembered telling her he loved her for the first time, they laughed about it, she said it back, he had thought it was platonic, though it wasn’t. It had never been just platonic had it? Always something between them, something they didn’t realize was love when they were kids. He remembered before his vision worsened what she looked like when they were kids. Remembered that smile that had burned into his mind back then. Remembered those eyes looking back at him when they married, looking at him like he was the most important cookie in the world.
He remembered so many memories that used to bring him so much joy that only served to strengthen the ache in his chest. The burning ache that refused to recede even after he tried desperately to think about something else.
So now he sat. Surrounded by the smell that usually brought so much comfort felt like a punch, the peace he loved because it reminded him of her now too quiet, too peaceful. He wanted to rip the garden apart, get rid of every single lily and forget. He wanted to get rid and destroy anything that reminded him of her, but instead he just curled his fists into his palms, pressing the ring against the dough painfully wishing, hoping it would help the way he needed, but the jam wasn’t comforting. It just hurt more, because he knew lily wouldn’t want this, but even that hurt to think about.
He had tried, tried so hard to keep his composure while reading the note. It had felt like any other night, he went to her side of the bed and kissed her forehead. Something he always did when he found her asleep, but all he found was cold dough, the scent of lilies fading from her dough like a soul leaving a body. His heart dropped. He turned the lamp on his hand going to her cheek. “Lily? My lily? Wake up lily- something feels wrong, you’re okay right?”
He remembered standing there his eyes widening every second he got no response. His heart sinking lower as he felt her dough colder than it should have been. “Lily wake up…” His voice came out cracked. She always woke up from just the smallest prod. Always a light sleeper. “LILY!” He remembered yelling, kneeling and grabbing her hand, squeezing, the tears in his eyes falling. Why wasn’t she breathing, why wasn’t she responding, what had he missed? She wasn’t gone, right? She couldn’t be gone. She was his everything, his will to exist. She couldn’t be gone. But the longer he sat there crying, the longer he held her hand the dough feeling impossibly cold, the more the truth pressed on him. A truth he had desperately wanted to prevent from ever happening. Every day he woke up and gave her as much love as he could just to try and prevent this.
She didn’t talk about it often, but enough that he noticed. Noticed how she acted sometimes. How quiet she’d get on days that he could only assume were days the voices got loud. And every time he’d try so hard to talk with her about it, to comfort her, to hold her.
But clearly it was never enough.
He had spent 3 hours sobbing uncontrollably. He didn’t remember pulling her out of the bed, he just remembered sitting on the floor holding her limp body like a lifeline, screaming, sobbing, begging. Begging it to not be true. Begging her to stop pretending. To wake up. To hug him back, to just say it was all a joke and apologize. But it never came. 3 devastating hours before he finally told someone. He couldn’t recall who anymore. The memory too fuzzy. He just remembered it being decided she would be buried in the faerie kingdom. He didn’t object. His voice hurt from how much he had screamed. Mind still trying to process everything trying to get her buried in his kingdom didn’t even come to mind.
He didn’t read the note until the morning rose. It had been the last time he had been in their room. He grabbed the folded paper and left, going to the garden and setting the note down gently, setting up a small memorial. He didn’t cry, he was far too tired to cry. So, he just polished it. Made it as best as his exhaustion would let him before he opened the note.
It was long, her handwriting she always called sloppy looked so elegant on the paper. He read it having to stop periodically to re-gain his composure, he refused to open it again. Three tear stains from him were on the paper. The only tears that had any energy to fall fell the day he read it.
Now, 3 days after finding her.. He held the note again. He gently folded it back and set it back down on the small memorial he made, his head resting on his knees. Eyes half lidded and large bags under them. Stared at it, stared at the memorial. Part of him couldn’t believe it, couldn’t bring himself to fully accept she was gone. He had played all the right cards. He thought he did at least. Thought he had loved her enough. Thought it would be enough, but it never was. He was never enough was he?
He looked at the ring he had been spinning between his fingers. Then the ring he could so vividly remember her slipping onto his, and put her ring right above his. Because he couldn’t bring himself to not wear it. Couldn’t bring himself to just place it on the memorial. So, he wore it instead, his nails squeezing into his palm again, but he stopped. Not for himself, but for White Lily.
His pupils flicked up behind the memorial. A statue he had made of White Lily back when there was at least a chance she would return behind it. She looked so beautiful, even just being a statue. It made him want to cry again, but the tears wouldn’t come. He didn’t have energy to cry anymore. Didn’t have energy to do anything.
He didn’t have the energy to go out anymore. God he barely had energy to attend her funeral. Couldn’t bring himself to stand up on that stage and talk about her, because he knew he’d just break down again. Couldn’t bring himself to even stay for the full reception. He just wanted to touch her one more time. To hold her one last time. He wished he had paid more attention. Wish he didn’t go to that stupid meeting. Wish she was still here. All he wanted now was to hold her. To be held. To be with her. But he didn’t get that comfort anymore.
There was a soft knock at the garden doors. He didn’t respond, staring at the ring that he wore on his finger now. The door creaked open, a small timid voice spoke from the open door. “..King.? The chef’s prepared-“ Pure Vanilla cut him off. “I’m not hungry.” His voice was flat. Almost emotionless. “King you have to eat something it’s almost been 3 days..” He was quiet for a moment before he looked at the timid cookie. “..Eating isn’t on my mind. My wife just passed. I’d prefer you leave me alone.” The cookie hesitated before closing the door again.
That was how the castle had been. Quiet, tense. Everyone was terrified to even mention White Lily cookie. Pure Vanilla looked back at the stone memorial, his lily’s staff leaning against the rock.. but all he could think about was her holding it high and casting her spells. She always looked beautiful when she did that.. He felt the tears coming back; he looked at his own staff and stood up gently taking her staff into his hands.
It was surprisingly sturdy. The staff felt nice to hold. The smell of Lily’s prominent on it. He set it back down and sat down again, drawing his knees to his chest once more burying his face in his knees. What was he meant to do now? He couldn’t get over her. He knew he couldn’t even if he tried. What was she thinking? Leaving him like this? Maybe he was just selfish for assuming she loved him enough to stay[GU1.1][AG1.2]. For assuming she wouldn’t do something like this. He knew it was a risk, but he thought their love was enough. He didn’t care if the thought was selfish, but he couldn’t help but get mad when he thought about it. She committed suicide. She even thought of him before she did it so why did she go through?
He clenched his fists again and stared at the headstone. He remembered the casket. It was beautiful. Silver with golden accents, white lilies and vanilla orchids on it. It was an open casket too. That just made it hurt more, seeing her. Even if she looked so serene, so peaceful in the casket, such a familiar expression. An expression she shown at him when she was tired. But she wasn’t waking up this time, and he knew that.
He had been zoned out the entire reception, barely able to pay attention because this day was never meant to happen. He was never meant to sit and listen to someone talk about his wife, about what she did, about who loved her. He remembered being asked to stand on the stage and speak but he couldn’t bring himself too. He wasn’t ready, her funeral was top priority, he wasn’t ready to talk about it just a day after she passed. He wasn’t ready, nobody there was ready.
He vaguely remembered her casket getting lowered into the ground, he left around then. Watching that meant he had to accept she was gone, truly gone. He lifted his head again and stood up looking at the ring on his finger.
Did she expect him to simply move on? To remember their love and cherish it yet live happily? Did she not understand how much she truly meant? Of course she didn’t. What a stupid question to ask. If she did, she wouldn’t be dead right now.
Dead. Such a harsh word, but there was no other word for it. So final, so.. emptying. He wanted nothing more than to have his name mixed with that word. Then maybe he could be with her. Maybe if he crumbled-
He had to stop thinking like that. It’s not what White Lily would want, not what his kingdom or Gingerbrave, or Black Raisin, or anyone in his kingdom wanted. But White Lily clearly didn’t think about what anyone else wanted when she decided to end herself right there in their bed.
Maybe he was selfish for not understanding. She was hurting, she had messed up so terribly, yet he wanted his simple words, and love, to fix that? To fix how she felt? To fix her? It was stupid, he knew it was, but he couldn’t help it. He was so angry, angrier than he had ever been. Hell, he was angrier than he was when he found out White Lily had been Dark Enchantress. She left him, and he couldn’t bring himself to accept or even figure out why even though he knew why, he even understood why. But he didn’t want to.
He stood up again, his body trembling; he left the gardens into the silent castle. He walked down the hallway slowly, his staff tapping gently against the carpeted floor before he reached the spare bedroom. Potted lilies near the bed so he could pretend she was there. He got in bed. His body, so used to having her near him his arms instinctively went out to grasp the soft dough, yet it touched nothing. He hissed like the air itself burned where she should have been and threw a pillow to the wall. His eyes closed, hands in his hair he screamed. He hated himself for the anger that was bubbling just under the surface. The chance he could snap at any cookie just because of how angry it all made him.
He knew why he was angry. Knew it was just the grief fucking with his head he knew it was, yet he couldn’t control how mad he was. When he stopped screaming he wanted nothing more than to knock himself out. Whether it was for good or not he didn’t care anymore. Anything felt better than this- but even in his anger, the soft scent of the lilies by the bed made him turn himself over and get to the edge of the bed. He couldn’t help it, after everything the smell was so.. So, calming. He found himself asleep in just 30 minutes.