Chapter Text
“Milky, sweetie, come here, look what’s written in the newspaper,” Shadow Milk heard Snowberry squeal from the living room.
“Not now, mom,” Shadow Milk laid his head down on the kitchen table in annoyance at Snowberry’s request, “I’m busy with… homework.” That was a lie. He did have papers and textbooks sprawled out in front of him, but he was staring at the candle Snowberry had lit about an hour ago flicker, daydreaming, before she interrupted him.
“Oh, sonny, homework can wait! Come here, come here!” Snowberry continued to urge him.
Shadow Milk groaned and slowly pushed himself up and out of his seat. As he stood up and steadied himself, he heard the soft shuffle of slippers on wood: Snowberry had gotten impatient and went over to her son herself.
“Look, look,” Snowberry jammed her finger repeatedly at the thin, greyish paper. Shadow Milk couldn’t read anything with his mother flailing the paper around, so he grabbed it out of her hands and read the big, front-page headline she was pointing at. Young Prince Pure Vanilla hosting ball to pick bride it read.
Shadow Milk reread the headline a couple of times before looking at his mother with a lost expression. “So, the prince is getting married. Big deal,” he said sarcastically, “what does that have to do with us?”
“It has everything to do with us!” Snowberry grabbed her son’s shoulders gently. “You go there, get married to him, and we wouldn’t have to live here anymore. We wouldn’t struggle to survive anymore. We wouldn’t struggle at all!”
“Woah, mom, slow down.” Shadow Milk took a step back, away from his mother, who clasped her hand together excitedly as they were no longer on his shoulders. “What are you talking about? I’m a guy. The headline clearly says ‘bride’, as in girls. The prince isn’t gay.”
“Oh, sweetie, but think about it.” Snowberry stepped toward Shadow Milk, causing him to lean back to avoid her. “You have a pretty feminine figure and face as is, and with a dress and some makeup — you’ll be the most beautiful girl this kingdom has ever seen!”
“Okay, let’s assume I’m up for that.” Shadow Milk placed the newspaper down on the kitchen table. “Pure Vanilla probably wants a lady raised in aristocracy, not some village girl.”
“The article said the ball is open to everyone,” Snowberry continued trying to convince her son, “surely, it’s worth it to at least attend. You’ve always wanted to visit the big Vanillisia city.”
Shadow Milk looked away, doing his best to hide his sadness. That was true. He had always wanted to go to Vanillisia, the capital of the Vanilla Kingdom. He regularly had dreams of being an actor in one of its many ornate theaters. But was pretending to be a girl for high society worth the very few days he would spend there? Probably not.
Shadow Milk breathed out to calm himself. “I…” He turned his head back to Snowberry, but didn’t look her in the eye, instead looking somewhere behind her. He didn’t like upsetting his mother: it always made him feel like he was failing the only parent he had, but this time he didn’t see a way he could avoid it. “I’ll think about it.” Maybe if he didn’t give her an answer now, she’d realize how insane her idea sounded. Hopefully…
Shadow Milk noticed how Snowberry’s face changed. It was subtle, but he saw how her eyebrows moved as her face went from excited to pleading to accepting. He silently gathered his books and papers from the kitchen table as his mother looked at him expectantly and headed to his room.
As he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, Shadow Milk thought about what his mother had said. We wouldn’t struggle to survive anymore. We wouldn’t struggle at all! The words rang in his head. He didn’t want to believe it, but she was right — a lot of their problems came from a lack of money. Problems that would disappear if he married the prince.
On the other hand, however, marrying the prince would mean joining the royal family. The family that everyone he knew said were useless hypocrites. From what he had read in the news, Pure Vanilla didn’t seem too bad, but King Vanilla Light ruled with an iron fist, ruthlessly punishing anyone who dared oppose him. Shadow Milk didn’t want to participate in any of that.
There was also the issue of the dress. Not the dress itself, but the fact that he’d have to pose as a lady while wearing it. Shadow Milk could act as perfect royal bride — he wasn’t half-bad at acting, even being cast as the lead in a few of his school’s plays. The issue wasn’t with the acting. The issue was making everyone think he’s a lady. He could act as a girl on stage, sure, but the audience still knew that it was Shadow Milk under the costume. This was different. He’d have to hide himself for everyone.
Shadow Milk let out a long groan and covered his face with his hands. He wouldn’t go to the ball, he decided. The pain wouldn’t be worth the reward.
Snowberry’s words continued to ring in his head as he tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep. He’d already decided. Why was he still thinking about it? No answer came as he drifted off to sleep.
—
Shadow Milk ran his hand through the water of the lake and watched the ripples propagate over the surface.
It had been a week since Snowberry had told him about the ball, and just a day since he told her that he wouldn’t go. She got sad, of course, but didn’t take it out on her son, saying she understood why he didn’t want to attend. His mother’s pain still hurt Shadow Milk, however. He didn’t want to see her upset, but also didn’t know how he could comfort her, so he decided to leave the house in the early morning. He wouldn’t have to see her upset that way. He met up with a friend, and they ended up at the lake.
“What do you think about all this, Salt?” Shadow Milk asked, not looking up from the water.
Silent Salt was sat on a rock, not acknowledging Shadow Milk’s question. Shadow Milk was sure his friend heard it, so didn’t bother repeating it. Silent Salt had a habit of carefully thinking over his words before speaking.
Shadow Milk picked up a flat rock from the shore and flung it over the smooth surface of the lake. It bounced once… twice… thrice, then sank to the bottom. Shadow Milk looked down and let out a heavy sigh.
“Look, Shadow,” Silent Salt finally spoke, “are you happy with your life?”
Shadow Milk was surprised at the question returned to him. “Well, we never have enough money, the berry fields need constant attention in the spring and summer, and I have no hope of getting into any acting school, but I have you and my mom, so I guess I can’t complain.”
“I would go for it if I were you,” Silent Salt responded after a short pause.
Shadow Milk flung himself onto his back and groaned. “You’re not helping, Salt.”
Silent Salt didn’t react to his friend’s theatrics. “Why would you ask for my opinion if you’d already decided what you’re doing?”
Shadow Milk didn’t respond to the question. He just stared at the clouds slowly passing over the sky. The two boys sat in silence like that for a few minutes.
As he sat up, Shadow Milk saw the sky glowing orange and pink by the horizon.
“We should head back.” Usually, he and Silent Salt would stay out long past the sun set, but Shadow Milk didn’t want to worry his mother when she was already sad.
Silent Salt didn’t object, and the two headed back to their respective homes.
—
The walk back from the lake was long, and Shadow Milk walked slower than usual, so it took even longer. As he was approaching his house, it had already gotten dark. He noticed the kitchen light was on — Snowberry seemed to have forgotten to draw the curtains.
Their home was a pretty standard village house made mostly of wood with small windows because they couldn’t afford bigger ones and a garden with an apple tree in the front. Inside was also simple: the front door opened into the living room, a small kitchen to the left and two bedrooms to the right.
Shadow Milk clicked open the door and entered. “I’m home, mom.” As he took off his shoes, he looked into the kitchen, where Snowberry was sitting at the table. She was sewing something — a long, blue and black dress. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but was fancy, especially compared to all other dresses that she owned. Shadow Milk looked closer at the dress as he approached the kitchen table. Was that… her wedding dress?
Shadow Milk had seen his mother’s wedding dress only a handful of times, almost all those times being when he was digging through his mother’s wardrobe in search of costumes for a school play. He knew the dress held a very special place in her heart — a place of sadness for a perfect family that could have been, a place of anger at Shadow Milk’s father who stayed just long enough to give their child his family name, then left and never returned.
Snowberry’s hands worked quickly, but gently, stitching a thread in and out of two layers of fabric on an area of the dress that needed to be made smaller.
Shadow Milk opened his mouth with the intention of questioning his mother about the dress, only to realize why she was altering it. “Mom…” he said gently.
“Yes, sweetie,” Snowberry interrupted him before he could continue, “I know you told me you wouldn’t go to the ball, but please, at least try it on.” Shadow Milk could hear the pain in her voice, the pain that always made him vow to himself that he would get them both out of this village in the middle of nowhere and into a better life. He stood silent by his mother for a moment.
“Okay…” It came out quieter than he intended, but his mother heard, so he didn’t have to speak anymore, didn’t have to risk saying something he’d regret later. He just turned and went to his room.
As Shadow Milk lay in his bed, he remembered the night a week before, when Snowberry had told him about the ball.
We wouldn’t struggle at all!
…
At least try it on.
He was thinking about her words once again, about the hope in her voice a week before, about the pain in her voice now. Why was he rethinking this? He’d already made his decision long ago. But was it the right decision? He wasn’t sure now.
The next day, Shadow Milk got up with the sunrise, which wasn’t too difficult, as he hadn’t fallen asleep at all. He didn’t wait for Snowberry to wake up. He just grabbed his jacket and left. He didn’t want to try on the dress, not right now. He would, as he promised himself, told his mother he would, just not right now.
The crisp morning air bit at his nose and ears as he walked to nowhere in particular. Anywhere was better than home right now.
He ended up at the lake again, alone this time. He sat on a log by the water, feet dangling over it, shoes just barely reaching the surface. He tried to think about anything other than the ball, other than the dress, other than his mother, but his wandering mind still made its way back to last night. Seeing her mending and altering that dress had broken something inside him.
Shadow Milk fidgeted with the sleeve of his jacket to distract himself. It was a basic, black leather jacket with a few patches sewn on here and there. He’d obtained the patches and sewed them on himself, but the jacket was a gift from Snowberry for his sixteenth birthday a few months ago. Paying attention to the jacket only made Shadow Milk think of her more.
He looked up at the sky — it was nearly noon. He sighed and decided to go to the village center.
—
Shadow Milk walked along one of the only paved streets in the village. Small shops lined the street. He knew who owned each one, but he wasn’t there to buy anything. He needed to get to the village hall.
The village hall was one of the nicer buildings there. It was still old, but was one of the few buildings made of brick, and the administration found the funds to make renovations every five or so years. Inside, the hall split into two sections: the administration’s side, where bureaucracy related to keeping the village existing occurred, and a library — one of the newer additions, being constructed a few years after Shadow Milk was born.
Shadow Milk turned to enter the library. It wasn’t a big space, just a few bookshelves and writing desks. Silent Salt liked to spend his days here, and Shadow Milk often joined him, so he was familiar with the space.
“Good afternoon, Shadow Milk,” the librarian smiled at him as he entered, “you’ve come without your friend this time.”
“Yeah, hello to you too.” Shadow Milk hesitated for just a moment before speaking again. “Do you have any books on royal etiquette and mannerisms? I need it… for a school project.”
“I’m not sure if we have any on etiquette specifically, but we do have a few on the history of the Vanilla Royal family. I’m sure you’ll be able to find at least something about behaviour in those, but I’ll still check in the back for etiquette.”
“Okay, thanks.” With that, Shadow Milk headed towards the history section among the bookshelves.
What was he doing? Was he really about to learn how to act among aristocrats and agree to go to the ball? Apparently so. Realistically, thousands of girls would show up, so his chances of being the prince’s “bride” were slim to none.
Shadow Milk picked three books from the shelves. They really weren’t that big, but they felt incredibly heavy in his arms, like a burden weighing down his soul. He sat down the desk farthest from the library’s entrance and opened the first book. A complete history of the Vanilla Kingdom. Looking at the table of contents, he saw a chapter dedicated to the royal family and flipped to it. The chapter didn’t have much information that was useful to Shadow Milk, just a few fun facts and interesting tidbits. As he was about to begin reading the second book, the librarian came over with An introduction to Royal manners. He thanked her and took the book.
This one had much more information on Shadow Milk’s topic of interest. How to greet and introduce yourself to someone of higher ranking than you, words and phrases that were unacceptable to use, which pieces of silverware were acceptable to use during which meals, how to act when around the highest-ranking individuals — all was here, condensed into one book. The information contained within was in no way complete — this was a book for children around the eighth grade, after all, but Shadow Milk would have to make do with what he had. He checked it out of the library and headed home, determined to share the news about his change of heart with his mother.
—
By the time Shadow Milk got home, it was nearly dinnertime. The sun wouldn’t set for a good while longer, but the sky would start shifting hues soon.
Shadow Milk entered his home to find Snowberry working in the kitchen, making dinner, and the dress laying on the kitchen table, long done being altered. He approached it to find that Snowberry had sewn on long, white sleeves and white frills along the bottom. He couldn’t deny that it looked more beautiful now, than any other time he had seen it. Snowberry saw him looking at the dress and approached quietly.
Shadow Milk tensed. “I’ll go,” he blurted out.
Snowberry looked at her son in disbelief. “Son, it’s okay. You really don’t have to-”
“No, mom, I will. For you, for us.”
Silence stretched between the two so long, that Shadow Milk started thinking about just backing away into his room, but Snowberry hugged him before he could do so. Shadow Milk noticed she was crying and hugged her back. Mother and son held the embrace for what felt like forever to Shadow Milk, but he didn’t dare let go, not when his mother was vulnerable.
After Snowberry let go, Shadow Milk tried on the altered dress. It didn’t fit perfectly — it was a little tight in the waist and shoulders and didn’t quite reach the floor like it did on Snowberry, but he still found himself mesmerized at how he looked in the mirror. His black, shoulder-length hair complemented the black on the dress well, and his eyes complemented the blue. The outfit wasn’t his favourite — he would have much rather been wearing more traditional men’s clothes — but this wasn’t bad at all. Maybe he could even get used to this.