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Chapter Text

Fear. 

That was the only thing going through Pastry Cookie’s mind as she darted through the underbrush, tripping on her veil enough that she eventually ditched in the bushes, her breath heavy as she ran from the shadows. 

All of this, all because she had accidentally told another what she had seen in the darkness of the Tower after a particularly bad nightmare. All of this because she had told a lie, they said. 

But she hadn’t. She knew that. It wasn’t a lie. It was just an unwanted truth. After all… 

Cookies were made to be eaten. The Witches weren’t benevolent. The Evil Enchantress was really trying to save cookiekind, even if she was going about it the wrong way. 

And the Order… The Order was built on lies. 

She stumbled over a root and just barely missed losing her left arm to a crossbow bolt. Silently, she thanked whatever benevolent force was out there as she picked up her pace again, grabbing at her skirts so she wouldn’t trip herself on it. She had to get there. She had to get to the one place they wouldn’t hate her for knowing this truth. 

She had to get to the Tower. 

She had to get to him. 

Pastry stumbled into the clearing and realized her mistake far too late. She gasped in pain as the crossbow bolt buried itself in her right elbow, making her want to curl up and sob but she can’t. She can’t. Not if she wants to live. 

She can hear the Shadow Sisters behind her. 

“Do you think that will do it, sister?” one asked. 

“If she does not bleed to death, the cakes shall devour her dough,” a second replied. 

“One should stay to make sure she falls. Book of Salt 9:21, It is surely better to be sure than to pay for one’s misdeeds on the morrow ,” said a third. 

“I will stay,” said the second. “Let Mother know. She will be dead on the morrow.” 

Pastry didn’t stay to listen. She continued running, buttermilk tears streaming down her face as she tried to put distance between her and her assassins. This was it. This was her last chance to be safe. If she didn’t make it, she was as good as gone. Who could have known that the order that supposedly gave the light could hold so much darkness?

She almost didn’t notice when she finally collapsed an hour later. The earth had felt so comforting, and with her jam leaking from the great wound she could not help but fall to the ground. Her body unconsciously curled into itself, her breathing ragged. Exhaustion ate away at her soul jam, making it even harder to keep going. Why had she tried to get to the tower anyway? She should have known better. She should have… what? Lived a life of lies as she slowly drove herself insane? That was a worse fate than merely crumbling. At least now she wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. 

Dimly the sensation of something snuffling into her side reached her tired mind, though she didn’t have the energy to do anything. Pastry laid there limply as a large Werehound looked her over before getting scooping her into her arms and running off. The cookie whimpered as she heard the twang of the crossbow, and screamed when something hit her left eye, embedding itself into her dough. 

Ironic, came a slow thought in her mind. Wasn’t this the eye he lost? Wasn’t this the eye made of cake?  

She didn’t have much more time to think before the sweet release of shadow pulled her from the pain, letting her hide from the world in a void of her own making.

Chapter Text

Red Velvet sighed as he leaned against the banister of his balcony, looking out over his people. The cakehounds were playing tug of war in the courtyard, and a new batch of cakes was being baked. Carrot cake hares, if he remembered right. He had wanted to create something that wouldn’t be used for destruction for once. He loved his mother, he did, but his people were more than war machines. He knew this. Why didn’t she? 

He was distracted by the thundering paws of a werehound as she pounded into the courtyard, holding something in one arm as she ran on the other three. 

Red Velvet knew this werehound very well. This was Miracle, the alpha of the Blackberry Lavender den and a former runt that he had fed with his very hands. She had been so named because it had been a miracle she had lived, and he was one to take miracles where they came. He rushed down the stairs, rushing to her. “Miracle! What is it?” he asked as she slowed. 

“The Shadow Sisters were out and about hunting this one,” she rumbled, revealing the cookie in her left arm. 

Red Velvet gasped as he gazed down on a jammy Pastry Cookie, jam dripping from her left eye and right arm―he could see a crossbow bolt sticking out of both, showing the truth of Miracle’s claims. Her clothes were ripped and ragged, and she had lost her veil at some point, revealing her violet hair that was braided into a bun likely messier than usual. He gently pulled her into his arms, carefully maneuvering around her injuries as he studied her, his eyes widening in surprise when her good eye opened. 

“I… I made it…” she breathed. “I… made it… to the tower…” 

“Why are they hunting you?” Red Velvet asked sharply. “Why do they want you dead?” 

“I… know the truth… Cookies… made… to be… eaten…” 

Her eye slid shut again, and his decision was made. 

He looked up at Miracle. “Do you need to head home?” he asked her. 

“I was shot in the right flank,” Miracle explained. “I… cannot go home until I receive healing…” 

“Very well, Miracle, come in,” he said, turning to the door and narrowly missing getting shot by a crossbow bolt that embedded itself in the ground where his head had been moments before. 

“Turn around, misguided cookie, put the girl down,” came a low voice from behind him, making him twitch with anger, “and no one has to get hurt.” 

“Last I checked, you just shot a bolt at me,” he said, not moving, “so you already planned on me getting hurt. In fact, if I am calculating this right, that bolt would have crumbled me. Why should I believe you?” 

“I shot a little high. I was aiming for her.”

“We both know you weren’t,” Red Velvet sneered. “Why should I believe the word of a cookie from an organization built on lies?” 

“Says thou who would taint this holy ground with cakey darkness,” the voice spat back. 

“Why do you want her dead?” he asked. 

“She is a heretic, her testimony maimed by untruths and doubts. She would spread her darkness to others if I do not silence her treacherous mouth.” 

“What false truth, might I ask, is she trying to spread?” 

“If I told thou, would thou not spread it thyself?” she asked. 

He tilted his head, considering that. “I suppose I might, but that depends on what the lie was. Because what I know might prove the lie to be true.” 

“How could thou prove true what is inevitably false?” the voice asked. 

“Because I’m one of the few who have been bitten by a witch… and survived,” he growled, putting Pastry Cookie down before whipping around and drawing his sword, causing the Shadow Sister to gasp. 

“Thou… Thou art…” she stammered in fear. 

“Yeah. Half-cake. My name kinda says it, Red Velvet Cookie. Sorry if it offends you, but it was the only replacement limb available!” he snarled, launching himself at her in a zigzag to avoid her crossbow bolts. 

She didn’t even have the chance to reload the crossbow before he was already at her throat, trading her blow for blow. It was only a moment before she was knocked to the ground, his sword at her jugular. 

“Pitiful,” he scoffed. “You’re not even half the warrior she is. At least she could do some damage.” He kicked her weapon away before removing his sword and sheathing it. “Cakehounds! Take her to the dungeon. I have business to attend to and Mother will want to interrogate this… heretic.” 

“M-mother?” the cookie whimpered as she was picked up by another Werehound. 

“Yes. My mother. The one who saved me from the wretched witches,” Red Velvet spat. “The great Dark Enchantress Cookie. What is your name, worm, that I may inform my mother of your arrival?” 

“I… I am Strawberry Creme,” she said, eyeing his sword warily. 

“Well, Creme, that cookie you shot happens to be a friend of mine. What she says is true. You were made to be eaten. Your blessed Reverend Mother? She lied to you. And saying anything other than that here… Well, you might lose a limb or two to an angered cakewolf if you’re not careful with your words. So if I were you, I’d keep my mouth shut .” 

She nodded frantically, glancing at the teeth of the werehound holding her up with unbridled fear as she was dragged away. 

Red Velvet huffed and turned to Pastry Cookie, gently scooping her into his arms once more as he led Miracle back into the tower. Quickly he ordered a few werehounds to prepare a room for their injured guest as he took the two injured to a simple infirmary. 

“You show great compassion in giving that cookie mercy,” Miracle hummed. 

“I could care less about that cookie,” Red Velvet countered. “I just knew if I could scare her into submission and lock her up, I’d have the time needed to save Pastry’s life. She’s lost a lot of jam, and that arm will need to be amputated. I highly doubt her left eye will be salvageable either. That cookie deserves hell for doing this to her.” 

“And why do you care?” Miracle asked smugly. “She is from the same place the shadow is from.” 

“Because,” Red Velvet said strongly. “She fell into the Ultimate Dough. She nearly drowned in it, and in her danger, she saw the truth. She saw the night I was rescued, the night my mother was reborn. She learned the truth, and these cookies hate her for it. Just… Just like they hate me for it.” His voice softened as he spoke that final sentence. “She’s like us, Miracle. An outcast. A freak in the eyes of society. No one but Mother would accept her now, and certainly not her order. But it’s not her fault. It’s not. So, I’m going to help her. After all, she’s like us now, whether she likes it or not.” 

“If you would remove this crossbow bolt from my flank,” Miracle began, “I could run home and retrieve something that will assist in your endeavor.” 

“That would be wonderful, She is goiing to need quite a bit of care and I am in no way a healer, neither do I trust Pomegranate anywhere near her. She’d more likely poison her than heal her, so I’m on my own unless I can find a healer…” Red Velvet trailed off, pondering that. “While you’re out, have a few werehounds and cakehounds go to that new kingdom. See if they can find a healer there. I know that Pure Vanilla should be there, but he might be asking for a bit much. Just… I need a cookie who actually knows how to heal. I don’t care who, just someone. I… I don’t think I can stabilize her alone. I treat cakes, not cookies.” 

She nodded, letting him quickly remove the bolt and dress the wound before she darted off and he turned his attention to his patient. He started by cleaning the jam away and cleaning her wounds, bandaging her arm and undoing her hair so he could cover her eye. 

He chuckled. “Same eye as mine, huh?” he asked the sleeping cookie. “Funny. It’s almost as if she knew.”

Red Velvet hummed as he moved onto her more minor injuries, scratches and bruises that littered her body. He gasped as he found signs of beatings and harsher punishments on her arms and legs. The cake didn’t want to imagine how much they had  done to her. 

“Pastry,” he said softly, trying to wake her up and sighing in relief when her right eye opened and looked wearily up at him. “How you feeling?” 

“Better…” she mumbled, using her left arm to push herself up as he quickly put pillows behind her to prop her up. “Where…?” 

“The Tower infirmary,” he explained. “Pastry, I need to get you out of these jam-soaked clothes. Would you allow me to do so?” 

She looked him up and down before slowly nodding. “I… am okay… with this…” she said. “Do you… have other clothes?”

“I’m having werehounds prepare them as we speak, but I need to remove the clothes so I can treat any wounds that may be hidden from view.” 

She nodded. “That… would be nice… Are you… a healer?”

“No, but another werehound team is searching for one right now. Do not worry, Pastry, I have you. You are safe now,” he said kindly. 

“Thank you…” she hummed, looking tired. 

“Do you think you can walk? Now that you’re not in life threatening danger, there are much softer places to rest than the infirmary,” Red Velvet said kindly. 

“Last I checked, I was shot in the elbow, not the knee,” she quipped as Red Velvet helped her off the cot. “I’ll… I’ll be fine.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you had a sense of humor,” Red Velvet chuckled. 

“Senses of humor are banned in the Order,” Pastry muttered sourly. “I’ll tell all the jokes I want, thanks.” 

“Oh, most definitely. I like it better when you’re spouting your own words and not the book of… silverware, was it?” 

“Salt, though it could be the book of the sea for all I care,” Pastry spat. 

They were silent for a few moments before Red Velvet asked, “Why now? It’s been months since you came here. Why are they only trying to kill you now?” 

“At first, they didn’t. I was told that this was a trial of my faith, to test me and try to make me stumble. I believed them originally, but then I told a sister about my experiences after a nightmare, and Reverend Mother… She was so angry. I’d never seen her angry before,” Pastry admitted. “After that incident, she tried to beat it out of me, to force me to admit I had seen nothing. I started having nightmares about the dungeon instead, and I think that was her intent. It wasn’t until the thousand five hundred sixty ninth strike that I realized why they were doing this: What you had said was true, and they were trying to hide it. I… I ran four days ago, and have had Shadow Sisters out for my dough ever since.” She looked at him. “What… Did you kill them? I know I had at least one still following me when I fell unconscious.” 

“I did not. Strawberry Creme is in my dungeon, awaiting interrogation from my mother,” Red Velvet assured her. “Why? Did you want her alive?” 

“I just wanted her gone,” Pastry said. “The Shadow Sisters are Reverend Mother’s elite order of assassins, judges, and executioners. I think I was meant to become one of them before you saved me from that fate. I… I have to thank you for that.” 

“I’m just glad to have another ally. There’s a new batch of cookies wounding my cakes, and knowing that you aren’t helping is already a huge relief,” Red Velvet said. 

Pastry hummed thoughtfully. “While I don’t approve of your teams’ methods of going about it, I do agree that something has to be done to save more cookies from the witches. Imagine the thousands of cookies being brought to lie only to die mere moments after… We can’t just stand by and do nothing, nor do I think that the cakes should be mistreated as they are. We are all just fighting to survive our horrid creators… There is no reason we need to fight each other.” 

Red Velvet stared at her in awe, and Pastry began to feel nervous. 

“Is… Is something wrong, Red Velvet Cookie?” she asked.  

“What? N-no, I just… I never thought someone outside our little group would ever say something like that, let alone a former member of the Order,” Red Velvet admitted. “It’s… surprising, but nice.” 

She smiled. “Well, get used to it, Red Velvet Cookie, because I’m going to be saying it a lot more. You saved my life, after all.” 

“Actually, a hound I raised from a pup did. Miracle found you in the woods and brought you to me and told me of your situation. I decided then and there that you would always be welcome here, no matter which way you chose.” 

“I chose the cakes,” Pastry said softly, “and I don’t regret it.” 

Red Velvet internally preened at that statement. No one had ever chosen their side over the light before of their own volition, not even Dark Choco (okay, bad example) or Licorice. 

“W-well, um, this is your room,” Red Velvet said as he opened the door into a lavish bedroom with a large king-size bed and full bookshelf. On the covers was a set of clothing in gold, navy, violet, and lavender consisting of a poncho, bandana, loose-fitting undershirt, and a wide skirt embroidered with suns and forks. 

Pastry gasped at the sight of the clothing. “Your… Your cakes made these?” she asked in awe.

“They did. And I’ll have them bring down food in a bit. You must be starving,” Red Velvet said. 

“I am… I haven’t eaten since I left the monastery,” Pastry admitted, feeling the softness of the knitted poncho as she prepared to remove her tattered robes. 

“Do you want me to look at your back?” Red Velvet asked. “Your story leaves me to believe there are untreated whip wounds causing you great pain under your clothing.” 

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” she said tiredly. “Please do so, but make it quick? It’s… indecent… Never mind, just do it.” 

Red Velvet hummed as he turned so she could get mostly dressed before he looked over her back. And once he saw it… Oh, he was seeing red. The cracks in her dough were ugly and crumbling, leaving him wondering how she was still going. She’d need a dough graft for some of them so she wouldn’t keep pulling them open every time she moved. Stars, how was she still moving ?!

“Is it… Is it bad?” she asked softly. 

“I’m not going to lie, I’m concerned that you had to run all the way here with these. You’ll need a dough graft, but all we have is cake dough. Are you okay with that?” he asked. 

“Yes. Please. I’ll do anything to get rid of the pain,” she pleaded. 

“All right. Give me some time to scrounge up some living dough. I don’t want to make a new cake only to kill it, nor do I want to kill some of my people. I’ll ask Miracle if she knows of any elderly hounds who might be willing to give theirs once they expire.” 

She nodded. “Thank you… That sounds like a good idea. Please, don’t kill anyone for my sake. It is bad enough that I have had my hand in the felling of cakes already.” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill anyone. For now, I’m going to bandage you up so you don’t lose any more jam,” he said as he grabbed the roll left on the bedside table. His hounds could be so smart when it came to these things. 

After a few minutes, the cookie was entirely bandaged and dressed in the new clothes. He helped her brush out her hair before putting it up in a braided bun as she instructed and tied the bandana just so as to cover the back of her hair. He noticed that she relaxed considerably with her hair out of view. Likely habit years in the making, and he wouldn’t judge. 

“You should get some sleep,” he told her as she climbed into bed. “I’ll wake you when the healer gets here.” 

“Thank you… Red Velvet Cookie…” she yawned. 

“Just call me Velvet,” he chuckled. 

“Well then… thank you, Red Velvet…” she mumbled as sleep finally claimed her once more. 

Sighing in relief, Red Velvet left the room and walked down the hall to check on the tower. She’d be fine for now, until he could get a real healer here to help her. 

Until then though all he could do was watch over her… 

And wait.

Chapter Text

Miracle led her pack through the underbrush, spotting their prey. Pure Vanilla Cookie was on a walk with his great-nephew, answering the young Custard Cookie III’s questions about the long-forgotten kingdom he had come from. Pure Vanilla found it cathartic, telling his young relative about the fallen home he had lost to the Enchantress, and so didn’t mind. 

“Remember,” Miracle whispered, “we need them both alive. We need them to heal Pastry. Then Red can decide what to do with them.” 

Her pups nodded, waiting for the cookies to pass within reach before they erupted from the bushes, a pack of thirty or so Blackberry Lavender cakehounds and wolves surrounding the two Vanillians. 

However, they weren’t planning on the two cookies that practically stalked the duo everywhere they went, so when the wafflebots and ravens came in from behind the pack, needless to say, they were all spooked. 

“See?!” Black Raisin exclaimed as she stood next to him in a protective stance. “I told you you need protection.” 

“Raisin…” Vanilla sighed, pulling Custard a little closer to him and casting a bubble shield while the wafflebots rampaged around them, scattering the cakehounds. “Crepe, don’t you think you’re going a little overboard?” he asked with a soft smile. Truthfully, he thought the little inventor was sweet, trying to protect their best friend Custard from anything even remotely dangerous, including the Carrot Cake Hares. (Pure Vanilla had talked to them after that one.)

“No!” Strawberry Crepe said, punching a cakehound into a tree. “They messed with the wrong cookies! If they think they’re going to get you they’ve got another thing coming! ” 

“Crepe, look out!” Custard yelped, but Strawberry Crepe didn’t have time to turn around before a cakewolf had its fangs around their neck, causing the young inventor to go completely still in fear. 

“Call off your bots,” Miracle growled, the jaws around the young cookie’s neck tightening just a smidge. 

“N-never,” they replied, trying to stay brave for Custard’s sake. 

“Crepe, please!” Custard called out, drawing their attention to him. “Please, just call them off.” 

“But… they want you…” Crepe protested. 

“Why do you even want us?” Pure Vanilla asked Miracle.

“There is a cookie on her deathbed,” Miracle said simply. “We were ordered to find a healer, as our friend is not proficient in caring for cookies. You are supposedly the best there is.” 

His orchid staff’s eye widened before it looked over to its master, watching him consider those words. 

“May I ask who is hurting?” Pure Vanilla inquired. 

“Pastry Cookie is her name,” Miracle replied. 

“What happened to her?” 

“She was attacked by the Shadow Sisters of the St. Pastry Order. She is not their first victim either, nor will she be their last.” 

“I know not of this order,” Pure Vanilla said, perplexed. 

“You have been gone for a while, Grunkle Nilla,” Custard reminded him. 

“That is true… and if what you say is true…” Pure Vanilla hummed. “When did you last see this cookie?” 

“Three days ago,” she said. “It took us a day to get here, and then you are a very hard cookie to corner Pure Vanilla Cookie.” 

“I suppose I am,” Pure Vanilla agreed. “Especially since I seem to have a couple of cookies always following me and my great-nephew.” His staff narrowed its eye at Black Raisin and Strawberry Crepe, making them smile nervously. “We will come with you, werehound. What is your name?” 

“I am Miracle, named so for the miracle of my survival,” she said, giving a bow. 

“Very well, Miracle, take me and my companions to your hurt friend,” Pure Vanilla said kindly. 

“Pure Vanilla, with all due respect, what on Earthbread are you doing?” Black Raisin hissed.

“I am allowing these fine cakes to take me to their wounded friend,” he replied simply as they started off after the wolves.

“What if it’s a trap?” she asked, watching as Custard quickly pulled Crepe close to him after they were released by the wolf, the cyborg cookie shaking slightly as Custard tried to soothe them. 

“Isn’t that why you two constantly follow us?” Pure Vanilla asked with a small smile. 

She opened her mouth before shutting it, grumbling and making him chuckle. 

“I am always glad to have you by my side, Raisin,” he said kindly. “You are very dear to me, just as Custard is. Don’t forget that.” 

She stared at him in shock before giving a small smile as her little raven landed on his shoulder, to which Vanilla began petting it absentmindedly as they trekked through the woods. 

After a few hours, Miracle stopped at what must have been her den, slipping inside and retrieving what seemed to be a sleeping pup, but was much too still. 

“If I may―” Pure Vanilla began, but he was interrupted by Miracle. 

“You may not,” she snapped as she led them further, cradling the pup to her chest as she picked up the pace, forcing the cookies to get on some of the cakewolves to keep up with the thundering Blackberry Lavender Werehound.

The cookies stayed silent, realizing that the pup was important to Miracle, and not wanting to disrespect the very large and very dangerous wolf. 

It was only a few more hours before they were at their destination, and all four cookies looked at the tower in awe. 

“What is this place?” Pure Vanilla asked Miracle. 

“This is the first oven, where cookiekind and cakes originated,” she explained. “These days, however, it is known as the Tower of Chaos, home of the cake army.” 

“Cake… army…” Pure Vanilla’s eyes widened. “Your friend is Red Velvet. This is where Dark Enchantress’s army is made. This was a trap.” 

“No, it was not,” Miracle reiterated. “There is a cookie in there that needs your help. Her name is Pastry Cookie, and she is dying from jam loss. Now, if you want to keep your freedom, you’re going to go in there and help her. Got it?” 

Watching the horde of cakes starting to surround him and his companions, and noticing how Custard and Crepe had gotten close to him in fear and Black Raisin’s uneasy expression, Pure Vanilla made a quick decision. 

“We’ll come willingly,” he said immediately, pulling Custard out of reach of a snapping cakehound’s jaws as he spoke. “Please, we’ll come. There’s no need for hostility.” 

Miracle barked sharply, getting the cakehounds to back off before she gave the cookies a toothy grin. “Good choice. Right this way.” 

All four cookies nervously watched the hounds as they walked into the tower, Custard taking extra care to stay close to his great-uncle. They both had plenty of experience with these beasts and knew what damage they could do from healing countless wounds, unlike Black Raisin and Strawberry Crepe who had only really dealt with the Wafflebots until now, though they seemed to be getting the idea from how they practically hung on the royals’ coattails as they traversed the halls. It was only a few minutes before they were brought before Red Velvet who was pacing before a door, mumbling to himself. 

“Sire, we found a healer,” Miracle said, bowing to him. 

“Good, good―You kidnapped Pure Vanilla Cookie?!” Red Velvet gasped in surprise as he looked over the royal cookie. “And… And his great-nephew?! Oh great ovens, how did you manage that?!” 

“She tried to kidnap us, then asked nicely, then threatened us when we got here,” Pure Vanilla chuckled, but his tone soon turned serious. “Where is the cookie?” 

“Oh, she’s in here,” he said, turning to open the door to reveal Pastry lying in bed, looking exhausted as she opened her eyes and looked toward the door. 

“Red…? That you?” she asked hoarsely. 

“Yeah, it’s me, Pastry,” he said kindly as he led them into the room and stood by her side. “Guess what! Miracle found a healer, and he’s going to help you. All those wounds hurting you are gonna go away, and you’ll be okay again.” 

“That… sounds wonderful…” she admitted, her eyes burdened with exhaustion that seemed heavier than one cookie could bear. “Who… did you find?” 

“Surprisingly? Pure Vanilla Cookie,” Red Velvet chuckled, causing Pastry to stare at him. 

“You… You kidnapped Pure Vanilla Cookie?!” she asked in alarm before descending into a coughing fit. 

Red Velvet was quick to hold her through it. “Of course not, Pastry, I… borrowed… him?” he tried sheepishly. 

Once she had recovered, she glared at him. “That… is not any better,” she deadpanned. 

He sighed. “I know… but the only healers on the dark side are Lico and Pomegranate and I don’t trust either of them near you. They’d more likely turn you into a mindwiped corpse slave for Lico than heal you, and… well, I don’t know if that hurts but it’s not the desired outcome.” 

She hummed. “Yes, all right, I see what you mean,” she admitted. 

“Not to mention, after I was ambushed, I was asked… semi-politely to come with fangs around one of my young companions’ neck, so you could even say I came willingly,” Pure Vanilla chuckled as he approached the bed. 

“See?!” Red Velvet said. “He agrees with me!” 

“How much… did he pay you… to say that?” Pastry asked Pure Vanilla as Red Velvet helped her sit up. 

“Surprisingly, nothing, not that I would have accepted it,” Pure Vanilla admitted as he gestured for Red Velvet to remove her bandages. “I need to see her wounds, Red Velvet Cookie, if I am to help her.” 

“Did you find the living dough you needed, sire?” Miracle asked Red Velvet. 

He sighed. “No, I didn’t, and Pastry said I’m not allowed to kill anyone to get her the dough she needs. Why do you ask? Please tell me you didn’t kill anyone either,” he pleaded. “I don’t want to have to take on an entire kingdom. That would be a waste of lives.” 

“I did not. Instead, I offer the cadaver of my own pup, slain by the Shadow Sister’s bolts while they were hunting Pastry Cookie. I ask only that you use it well, and in service of our people, and not to fell my kind ever again,” she said, bowing and offering the pup she had carried on their journey. 

“Believe me, I do not want to hurt any more cakes,” Pastry said as her arm was unbandaged. “You saved my life, Miracle. I will honor your wishes and not hurt another cake so long as I live. I would rather die than harm the people who helped me continue living.” 

Red Velvet smiled at her. “That’s relieving to hear. Now, let’s relieve you of that pain, shall we?” he said, removing the bandage over her ravaged eye.  

Pure Vanilla gasped in horror. “What… What happened?” he asked Red Velvet. 

“Crossbow bolt to the eye. Same with her elbow,” he explained. “Can you… Can you fix it?” 

“I’m afraid damage that extensive will have to be replaced, not healed,” Pure Vanilla admitted, biting his lip as he looked at the damage. “I’ll need that living dough, and it’ll be slightly painful, but she’ll be fine when it’s done.” 

“And her arm?” Red Velvet asked. 

Pure Vanilla sighed. “The joint is shattered, and something is blocking my magic. Likely something in the bolt is keeping me from healing the wound. It would be better to amputate the wound before whatever curse has infected the wound infects the rest of her body. I’d be able to close the stump, and we happen to have Earthbread’s most talented inventor on hand. They can make her a replacement limb.” He turned. “Hey, Crepe!” 

“Wha?” they asked, surprised. 

“You think you can make a replacement limb for our hurt limb here?” he asked. 

“Sure! How far up are you cutting?” they asked with a grin. 

“Just above the elbow, Crepe.” 

“I’d cut a little higher to the mechanism has more room to work,” Crepe said. 

Pure Vanilla looked at Pastry. 

“Whatever works,” Pastry said. “You guys are the experts. I’m just grateful you’re willing to help me.” 

“Very well,” Vanilla said. “Black Raisin, take everyone out. This… This won’t be pretty.” 

Black Raisin nodded, leading Red Velvet, Miracle, and the younger cookies out of the room as Pure Vanilla softly asked for Black Raisin’s knife, which she quickly gave him. 

“Is she going to be okay?” Red Velvet asked worriedly. 

“She’ll be fine. Pure Vanilla is the best there is,” Custard assured him. “He could heal any wound even before he regained his memory. Trust us, she’s in good hands.”

Red Velvet nodded, and they sat outside the room waiting for something to happen. 

The half-cake cookie jumped to his feet when he heard Pastry scream, unsheathing his blade right as Black Raisin grabbed his arm. 

“I need to get to her―” he pleaded, but she stopped him. 

“She is in what is essentially surgery, she’s going to scream,” Black Raisin hissed. “You barging in there like the world is on fire isn’t going to help her right now. Pure Vanilla needs her as calm as possible, and you aren’t helping. Now, sit down and wait for him to call you in. Maybe you can help Crepe here decide what weapon to give her, because, crumbling castles above, there is no way that they aren’t giving her some sort of weapon.” 

He nodded meekly and went to sit next to Crepe, surveying his work and discussing the mechanics of crossbows, a weapon he knew she used often during her time in the order. 

“Perhaps make the crossbow convertible into a sword,” he added, “as I’m not sure how comfortable she’ll be with using a crossbow as it is the weapon that hurt her.” 

“Do you want a particular type of sword?” Crepe asked. 

Before Red Velvet could answer, Pure Vanilla opened the door once more. 

“Red Velvet, I need your assistance,” he said cordially, inviting him in. 

Red Velvet nodded, getting up and stepping inside to see Pastry.

Chapter Text

The first thing he saw was Pastry’s stump, and the bundle of fabric nearby. He didn’t need to look inside to know what was in it. 

“Why… Why do you need me?” he asked. 

“I am not familiar with cake dough,” Pure Vanilla confessed. “I need your help retrieving the eye and some of the dough. You said she had other wounds, correct?” 

“Yes, she has cracks in her back,” Red Velvet said immediately. “She was whipped.” 

Pure Vanilla winced. “Who―” 

“Reverend Mother… punishment…” Pastry whimpered. 

Pure Vanilla gently shushed her. “I didn’t have time to get Chamomile or Poppies when I was… politely invited to come here, so I don’t have any sedatives, dear. I apologize.” 

“Why not?” Red Velvet demanded. 

“Because those plants can be dangerous, Red Velvet Cookie, and one doesn’t just carry around dangerous plants,” Pure Vanilla deadpanned. “I wouldn’t want someone to get hurt if I stumbled and they fell out of my pockets.” 

Red Velvet nodded. “That… That makes sense…” 

“I need you to cut out the eye of the hound while I get her ready,” Pure Vanilla told him. 

“I… I could have Miracle find some poppies quickly,” Red Velvet offered. 

“If she can, that would be preferred. I… do not like causing others pain, but sometimes it is necessary during the healing process,” Pure Vanila said with a sigh. 

“What.. what happened with her arm?” Red Velvet asked in curiosity. 

“The curse did not like me trying to separate it from her body, so it attacked us. I am lucky that I was able to put up a shield in time to keep it from doing either of us serious damage. I think it’s still trying to escape the fabric, so I’d leave that bundle alone.” He gestured to the bundle on the other side of the bed with a spatula as he mixed a healing vanilla frosting for her eye transplant. 

“So the dangerous curse that was trying to destroy her… is held back by a piece of fabric?” Red Velvet asked. 

Pure Vanilla’s staff gave him a deadpan look as the cookie chuckled. “It’s dark magic. It’s dark inside the fabric. You learn to stop questioning magic after a while as it rarely makes sense to people like us.” 

“Like us?” Red Velvet asked tensely. 

“Mortals. Non-witches. Cookies.” Pure Vanilla elaborated. “I’m pretty sure only the witches themselves know how magic truly works.” 

“O-oh… I suppose so,” Red Velvet agreed as he turned and poked his head through the door to ask Miracle to get some poppies, the werehound nodding and bounding off. 

“Is Pure Vanilla okay?” Black Raisin asked him. 

“Currently yeah, he’s fine. And so is Pastry,” Red Velvet deadpanned as he went back inside. 

Pure Vanilla raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess, Raisin is worried about me.” 

“Yep.” 

“Don’t mind her, she means well, she’s just not used to people outside our little village.” 

“Oh, and that makes it okay for her to be snarky?” 

“No, it doesn’t, but it helps me understand why she is. She’s been alone for a long time. Me, Custard, Crepe… We’re really all she has left. The village scattered after the attack… Which you probably remember quite well, since you led the attack on your cakeberus.” 

“O-oh! Right… That… Um… Sorry?” Red Velvet said sheepishly. 

Pure Vanilla shook his head and turned back to the frosting, his staff glaring daggers at him. 

“What’s with um… the plant?” Red Velvet asked. 

“It’s my seeing staff. Not only does it allow me to channel great healing spells, but it allows me to see.” 

“You’re… blind?” 

“Mostly blind, yes. Is that news to you?” Pure Vanilla asked in surprise. “I thought it was common knowledge.” 

“My… mother… isn’t exactly… forthcoming when she talks about the ancients. If she does, it’s about how weak they were trying to defeat her, and that idiot Pure… Sorry,” Red Velvet said, cutting himself off. 

“No, no, I want to know how Lily sees me these days,” Pure Vanilla prompted. “I’m sure she hates me. She made that abundantly clear the last time we met.” 

“Oh… yeah… that… Um… She says you’re a self-sacrificial doofus who didn’t even do it properly,” Red Velvet continued. 

“To be fair, it was a last resort spell. I didn’t plan on using it.” 

“You… didn’t?” Red Velvet asked in surprise. 

“Of course not. Your mother is my dear friend. I only thought it necessary when she was about to decimate the others. I… couldn’t let her hurt them any further.” 

“That’s right. Hollyberry, Golden Cheese, and Dark… Cacao… were there―Do you know Dark Choco Cookie?” he asked. 

“I do. I practically helped raise him. Why? I highly doubt that Dark Enchantress would speak of him to you. How do you know he exists?” Pure Vanilla asked, looking up at him in curiosity. 

“He’s… well…” Red Velvet blinked. “Wait… Pure Vanilla Cookie… You must be Uncle Vanny!” 

Vanilla stared at him. “How do you know that name?” he asked in bewilderment. “Only one cookie ever used that name, where did you learn about it?” 

“Because he’s… well, Dark Choco isn’t in the building, per se, but he’s on my team. My mother… well, you could say she picked him up after he attacked his father.” 

“He’s alive?!” Pure Vanilla asked, rising up and looking at him with an expression Red Velvet couldn’t read. Fear? Surprise? Hope? Yes, it seemed like hope, which baffled Red Velvet.  

“You… didn’t know?” he asked. “I thought most of the young kingdom knew. GingerBrave and his friends fought him in the old abandoned Academy before they accidentally resummoned my mother.” 

“You.. wait, GingerBrave is the one who released the Enchantress? How?” 

“They destroyed the moonstone. Honestly, I thought you would know a lot of this, Vanilla,” Red Velvet said, flabbergasted. 

“All they said was that they had been there… I’ll ask them about it later. I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t want to admit to it either,” Pure Vanilla mumbled, running a hand through his hair as he put the bowl of frosting down. “… Is… Is Dark Choco really alive? Is he really here?” 

Red Velvet nodded. 

Pure Vanilla let out a breathy laugh. “We… We had been so sure he had died of his wounds. We searched the kingdom for weeks trying to find a single trace of him, but… nothing. We thought he had been devoured by the hounds…” Pure Vanilla said softly. 

“You… and you still came to help me?” Red Velvet asked in surprise. “Why?” 

“You say that like I had a choice, Velvet,” Pure Vanilla chuckled darkly. “I couldn’t let your hounds get another member of my family, and they had their jaws around Crepe’s neck. I wasn’t about to watch them die when I could stop it.” 

Red Velvet fell silent, watching Pure Vanilla turn to his friend and tell her to gently open her eye so he could prepare it. The healer gently opened a bottle of milk and soaked a towel in it, dabbing at the wound to clean it. 

“You know… He spoke highly of you. Dark Choco, I mean.” 

“He did?” Pure Vanilla asked in surprise. “Odd. I would’ve thought that he hated me.” 

“You’d be wrong. He called you the kindest soul he had ever met. He… doesn’t know you’re alive, actually. Likely a ploy of my mother’s to keep him from leaving.” 

“Leaving? Why would she need to do that?” Pure Vanilla asked curiously. “He works for her, doesn’t he?” 

“It’s… complicated,” Red Velvet admitted. “He… He’s miserable here, Pure Vanilla. He doesn’t want to be here, but Pomegranate tortured him about a year ago with old memories and made him think he doesn’t deserve redemption. He’s… He’s really sad, Pure Vanilla. The only thing keeping him going here is likely his connection to Licorice and the fact that his sword won’t let him… well… you get the picture.” He looked into the frosting Pure Vanilla was mixing, contemplating his next words. “I’ve… I’ve sat with him a few times and just listened to him talk out his feelings. He’s so, so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of causing pain, tired of being a Cookie of Darkness. He just wants to go home, but he doesn’t think he deserves it. He calls the sword his curse , something he earned years ago and will carry for the rest of his days. If… If you could manage to find a way to take him with you… Well… I assure you he’d be happier in the dungeon cell of that little kingdom my hounds have told me about than here with his so-called freedom.” 

Pure Vanilla processed that, but before he could reply Miracle opened the door and came in with the poppies. 

“I retrieved what you requested,” she rumbled, bowing. 

“Excellent, Miracle,” Red Velvet said with a smile. “Thank you so much. I am in your debt for all you have done to assist us in the treatment of Pastry. How could I ever repay you, my friend?” 

“I need no payment, only justice. You did the same for me as a pup, helping me live to survive another day. I owe you my life, and, subsequently, all I have. This is a small thing compared to that,” Miracle assured him. 

Red Velvet―unsure how to respond to that―gently began to pet her, both watching while Pure Vanilla ground up the poppies into a salve and mixed them with milk before gently helping Pastry drink the solution. They could see her eyes flutter closed once, twice, before they didn’t open again.

“There. That’ll keep her under for a few hours at least, or long enough for us to finish the procedure,” Pure Vanilla said as he turned back to them. 

“And then she’ll just… wake up?” Red Velvet asked. 

“Assuming she’s had enough sleep beforehand, yes. The longest I’ve seen someone sleep under the influence of the poppies was an entire day, but they’d been awake for a week.” Vanilla sighed and mumbled, “You’d think Espresso would take care of himself more with Madeleine constantly hounding him about it and know not to leave the house after a week of not sleeping, but here we are.” He fixed his composure and smiled softly at Red Velvet. “May I have the eye? I want to do that one first.” 

Red Velvet nodded, carefully handing the eye he had carved out of the cadaver to Pure Vanilla who took the candy eye and put it in the bowl of frosting. Turning to Pastry, he took the knife Black Raisin had lent him and slowly slid it under the frosting of Pastry’s ruined eye, removing the shattered candy piece and the frosting adhering it to her face. As soon as it was completely removed, Pure Vanilla sighed in relief and began cleaning away the excess frosting so he could replace the eye, leaving a clean wound. 

Red Velvet watched in rapture as Pure Vanilla grabbed his staff and the new eye before gently placing the replacement in the proper position, making sure the frosting was entirely covering the backside of the candy piece before placing his free hand over the eye and tapping his staff against the ground, his eyes glowing as he muttered incomprehensibly. The other cookie gasped as the replacement eye shone as well, the frosting slowly changing into a deep black as the violet candy piece sunk into the frosting, leaving only a cat’s eye pupil visible. 

He stopped muttering to catch his breath, breathing heavily as he leaned on his staff. “She’ll be able to see again now. She’ll be fine.” 

“She’s… like me…” Red Velvet breathed, watching as the new eye slid shut as Pastry slipped further into slumber. 

“That she is,” Pure Vanilla agreed. 

“Are you okay?” Red Velvet asked him, noticing the ancient’s exhaustion. 

“I’m fine. It’s just not very often you have to replace entire organs. Usually I deal with breaks and surface wounds. It takes more energy to bind a new eye to a cookie than to heal a broken arm,” Pure Vanilla explained. 

Red Velvet nodded. “I… I can see that. I’m sorry it took so much out of you.” 

“Don’t apologize. I practically volunteered, and I don’t regret it. Now, could you reveal her other wounds to me? A dough graft is a lot simpler than replacing eyes, especially since you already have the dough and I don’t have to force her body to create it.” 

“You could do that?” 

“With small enough wounds, yes, but I’d need some spell ingredients. Aloe usually works well for that. Without it… Well, I’ve never tried, and I don’t want to find out the negative consequences that would come to me and the one I tried to heal. It’s simpler to use premade living dough.” 

“Wow… Healing magic is complicated,” Red Velvet chuckled as he helped Pure Vanilla turn Pastry onto her side and pull up the poncho and shirt he had given her to reveal her torn up back. 

“It is… Great ovens, how many times did they hit her for the whip to have torn through her dough down to the jam?!” Pure Vanilla asked in horror as he stared at the gouges that had been torn into her. 

“... Do you actually want the answer to that question?” Red Velvet asked quietly. 

“I want to know how many cookies should be sent over to the dreaded Order to destroy their chapel,” Pure Vanilla replied. “This isn’t right. Cookies are not to be treated like this. I don’t care whether it’s you, Dark Enchantress, a complete stranger, or my own family members: this is not okay.” 

Red Velvet stared at him for a moment, unsure how to feel about that, and so instead handed him some of the blackberry-lavender vanilla-cream-soaked dough, which Pure Vanilla immediately took and pressed into the cracks, mumbling a spell under his breath as they both watched her dough knit the cracks shut, accepting the cake dough as they healed wound after wound. When they were done, Pure Vanilla gently scooped some of the cake’s frosting and spread it across her back, waiting for it to soak into her dough before he sighed in relief. 

“There. Her body accepted the dough. Eventually, the cake dough will become a part of her recipe, and people will notice. I… I’m sorry for the discrimination she will receive. She is a strong cookie and deserves better,” Pure Vanilla said kindly. 

“It’s okay. She knew the risks when she accepted it,” Red Velvet assured him as he covered her back up. “How long until she wakes?” 

“Probably an hour or so. She was exhausted though, so it might be longer. We can let the others in.” 

Red Velvet nodded, turning to open the door before he stopped and said, “One thousand, six hundred sixty-nine times.”

“What?” Pure Vanilla asked, confused. 

“You asked how many times they hit her. I told you. One thousand, six hundred sixty-nine times. That’s what she told me.” 

Red Velvet didn’t have to turn around to feel the hatred and horror pouring off the ancient healer, he could practically feel the waves as they filled the room. 

“How… How is she still alive?” Pure Vanilla asked meekly. 

“I don’t know,” Red Velvet admitted. “She’s just one tough cookie.” He looked out into the hall where Custard was asleep on Raisin’s lap and Crepe was in the middle of something that looked a lot bigger than a hand. “You guys can come in now. She’s healed, just sleeping.” 

“Maybe, now that everything is all right, we can have Crepe and Raisin fight the curse so it won’t bother anyone,” Pure Vanilla said with a smile. 

“Fight the what ?!” Black Raisin asked in fear, getting up and accidentally shoving Custard off her lap―waking him in the process as he slammed into the floor―and running into the room, searching frantically for the threat.

“Owwww…” Custard whined as Crepe quickly went to help him up. “What’d I do to deserve that? I thought I was a good king…” 

Pure Vanilla chuckled. “Sorry, Custard. I didn’t intend for her to do that.” 

“It’s all right, Grunkle Nilla. I forgive you,” Custard said, rubbing in between his eyes. “Why’d she run off?” 

“Just the curse that attacked me earlier. I’m sure she’s already found it and is trying to strangle it,” Pure Vanilla said, brushing off Custard’s shirt. “Come on, let’s go make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.” 

Custard nodded, the most adorable look of determination on his face as he ran into the bedroom and proclaimed, “You shall be vanquished, evil… magic… thingy!” 

“Distract it, Custard, and I’ll get it from behind,” Raisin said, making Pure Vanilla chuckle. 

“Those two will never change,” he smiled to himself as he turned back to the room, leaving Crepe and Red Velvet in the hall. 

“Is the arm ready?” Red Velvet asked after a moment. 

Crepe nodded. “Just need to do one thing,” they said as they turned and pressed a single button on the waffle prosthetic, laughing at the sight of Red Velvet’s mouth dropping as the seemingly huge mess of magichanical parts compacted in on itself to the size of a normal forearm and hand. “You should see your face!” they snickered. 

Red Velvet stepped forward, gently picking up the object like it was made by the witches themselves. “How… How will she control it?” he asked meekly. 

“I made a clip-on earring that she can wear that’ll let her connect to the limb. It’ll also allow her to access her crossbow and sword, just like you asked for. She’ll never not be armed, and if she ever gets an actual piercing, I can change it so it can’t be removed. Sound good?” Crepe asked. 

He looked the child prodigy over. “You’ve… changed, since I last saw you,” he commented. 

Crepe looked away. “Yeah… This little kingdom… Xeyal… it’s full of good cookies. I… I made friends with the younger cookies, and I live with Pure Vanilla and Custard and Black Raisin. They take care of me. I haven’t wanted for anything since I got there. If you can find it in you to leave your mother, I think you’d be happy there too.” 

“Where’d the name come from?” Red Velvet asked curiously. “That doesn’t sound like a normal cookie kingdom name.” 

“It’s not. I don’t know all the kingdom gossip, but from what I heard from Pancake, the five founders each chose a letter and they rearranged them to make the name. Now, I don’t know if that’s true, but that’s what Pancake said,” Crepe told him. 

“Sounds hilarious. Who’s the ruler?” Red Velvet asked. “Is it actually Custard?” 

“No, they just let him believe that. There is no ruler. The castle is only for big meetings. Everyone works together. They're just a big community, where everyone takes care of the kids, everyone does the work, and everyone helps defend the kingdom. It’s… actually really cool. Avocado Cookie has been teaching me how to use a forge to create my own materials. I’m her apprentice, and she’s super nice to me. No one cares if I used to be a Cookie of Darkness. It doesn’t matter where you come from, everyone is welcome there.” 

“That… That sounds amazing,” Red Velvet admitted. 

“Blackberry helps run an inn, so if you ever decide this place isn’t for you, go down main street, take a left and a left and a right in the snowy region, and walk up to the building next to the stables. You can’t miss it. They’re… still trying to find a name for it, so I’m sorry I can’t give you a name.” 

“That’s okay, Crepe. Let’s go make sure the curse hasn’t killed anyone. You’ve… given me a lot to think about,” Red Velvet said, leading them into the room to see a large shadowy being holding a panicking Custard upside down while Black Raisin jumped and tried to grab him to pull him down and Pure Vanilla shot bolts of light at it. 

Black Raisin noticed them. “A little help here?!” 

Crepe rushed forward to help her, and Red Velvet laughed as he rolled up imaginary sleeves. 

“It would be my pleasure.” 

When Pastry opened her eyes, it was to Red Velvet curled up next to her. She smiled softly, brushing his hair out of his face and accidentally causing him to stir. 

“Sorry, were you sleeping well?” she asked. 

“Yeah… I just collapsed,” he mumbled. “The curse thingy was a jerk to defeat.” It took him a moment for his eyes to shoot open. “Pastry? Pastry!” he exclaimed, shooting up in bed and making her laugh. 

“Calm down, I’m still recovering,” she said, pushing him back down. “Where are the others?” 

He pointed across the room, where the four other cookies were in a tangled heap sleeping. Pure Vanilla sat in the center, head against the back with Custard leaned up on one side and Black Raisin’s head in his lap, Crepe curled up in a ball next to Custard. 

“What happened?” she asked him. 

“The curse from the bolt in your arm attacked us. It was a nasty one too. Whoever sent them with that really wanted you dead,” Red Velvet grumbled, “and I plan on tearing them to pieces.” 

She chuckled. “Now I know I’m safe. We can send them home later. You all look exhausted. It wasn’t too hard was it?” 

“It was fine until the thing shifted into a giant werehound and we had to call Miracle in to help,” Red Velvet yawned, curling up close to her like a pup. “And you owe me a hug.” 

“A hug?” Pastry asked, smiling. 

“I saved your life. I think I deserve at least a hug.” 

She laughed. “I suppose that is true…” Pastry pulled him into her arms, relishing in this soft vulnerability. She had no doubt that this wouldn’t be there if he wasn’t exhausted. Gently pushing his hair out of his eye, she chuckled at hearing him purr softly and feeling him lean into her touch. “You must be so tired…” she cooed. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, his breath stuttering as he soaked in the affection she was giving him. Not many here were affectionate as Cookies of Darkness aside from Poison Mushroom who was never around the Tower, and cake affection just didn’t compare to the soft touches of a cookie, not that he’d ever admit it. His brain felt like mush, and he briefly wondered if this was all just a ruse to get close to him, but he quickly waved it away. Nothing this sweet and wonderful could be fake. 

“I’m okay, right? No life threatening injuries?” she checked, rubbing his cheek. 

“Nope,” he slurred, his eyes half-lidded. “Pure Vanilla said you’re good. You have an eye like mine, and your dough accepted the transplant on your back. Although…” 

“Although what?” she asked curiously. 

He sighed, pulling away. “There was a price. Your body accepted the new dough, which means it’ll take it into itself. You’re slowly becoming part cake, like…” 

“You,” she said softly. 

He nodded, looking away. 

She smiled. “Good. I don’t want to ever be mistook for one of those horrid Order liars,” Pastry said with a sigh of relief, laying down next to him. “I’m a cake through and through.” 

Red Velvet stared at her, looking for a single hint of falsehood and finding only sincerity and a great deal of something he wasn’t sure he was ready for. “You… You mean that?” he asked in disbelief. 

She nodded. “You need a lieutenant?” she asked sheepishly. 

He laughed and pulled her close. “I’d be honored to have you as a lieutenant,” he told her. 

“I’m glad. Maybe we can avoid getting anyone killed though, on either side. Unless they’re in the Order. They can go die in an oven.” 

“Agreed,” Red Velvet hummed, getting comfortable as Pastry laid on his chest. This had to be a dream. It had to be. There was no way that she was joining them, that she wanted to be with him, that he wasn’t alone. It felt unreal, fake, like a false hope, and yet her weight on his body and her arm under his neck reminded him that it was all real. 

“Oh, and I guess I owe you for saving me,” she said coyly. 

“Hm?” he asked tiredly, his eyes closed and mind buried under the bliss of having another cookie close to him. “Whatever you say, Pastry.” 

It wasn’t until he felt gentle lips on his forehead that his eyes shot open once more, his mind stopping in place and his heart skipping a beat as he tried to process that. When she pulled away, she smiled down at him and he tried desperately to form words but instead he could only let out soft mewls and whimpers. It felt so heavenly… She was practically an angel… This had to be a dream…

“You like that?” she asked nervously. “If you didn’t, I can―Mmph!” 

Red Velvet, unable to find his words, pulled her down and pressed his lips to her own, feeling her slump against him as they reveled in each other’s company. For a brief moment, he wondered if she had been as lonely as him in those pristine walls of hell, and he promised himself she would never be alone again. She would always have a home here. 

His train of thought was interrupted by the tongue poking at his lips, and once again his brain devolved into mush as he let her in and closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe this was real… She tasted of vanilla, with a hint of blackberries and lavender. Pure Vanilla had been right, it was becoming a part of her, but he didn’t mind. He couldn’t, he was too busy floating on this angelic feeling. 

After a few minutes, she pulled away, giggling at the half-lidded look on Velvet’s face. “You’re the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me,” she whispered. 

“Feeling’s… mutual…” Red Velvet slurred before pulling her in again, needing it just once more. If this was all just a dream and he had to wake up, he just needed it once more. Just once.

It tasted just as good as the first. 

Slowly, they devolved into slow kisses, holding the other close as they fell closer to the veil of sleep. Pastry noticed the frown on his face as she tucked him close and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to wake up,” he mumbled. “I don’t want this to be over.” 

“Oh Velvet… Who said it had to be over?” she asked.

“This is a dream… this could never be real…” he whimpered. “It’s too much… too good… It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, it can’t…” 

She gently lifted his chin, wiping away the buttermilk tears dripping down his cheeks and looking into those eyes full of fear and pain and horrible longing that came from his very core. 

“Oh, Velvet… How long have you been wanting this? How long have you been alone?” she asked softly. 

He looked away, curling in on himself. “Years… Mother’s almost never around―not that she’s affectionate like this ever ―and none of the others are really, well, touchy-feely, but they’re all I have. She saved me from the witches, kept me from dying, and gave me a purpose. I… I can’t leave her.” 

“I know the feeling,” she said softly, kissing his forehead softly and relishing the soft sounds he made. “Has no one ever given you this before? Truly?” 

He shook his head, ashamed. “Has anyone given it to you?” 

She nodded, and his heart sank. 

“W-who?” he asked as dread sank into his belly at the idea of her being with someone else, trying to keep his voice steady. 

“You,” she said softly, smiling at him, “and that’s all I ever wanted.” 

Red Velvet, the great commander of the cake army, oh he whimpered, and then he sniffled, and then he sobbed as he let himself sink into Pastry’s arms, soaking in the love she was pouring on him and wondering how he ever lived without it. It felt like paradise and tasted sweeter than any jelly. He never wanted to let go ever again. 

And that was how he fell into slumber, happy and blissfully loved.

“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do to repay you?” Red Velvet asked in the morning as the Vanillian family got ready to leave. 

“We need no payment,” Pure Vanilla assured him. “We’re just happy to see you two happy and healthy once more.” 

“A good king always cares for those in need, no matter who or what the cost!” Custard declared, making Pure Vanilla chuckle as he ruffled his great-nephew’s hair. 

“That’s right, Custard,” he agreed, “though if you want to come back with us, there’s plenty of space for you two to build a house together, far away from the battlefield. You wouldn’t have to worry about this happening ever again.” 

“The offer is tempting,” Red Velvet admitted, “but…” 

“This is his home, and his mother’s army. He can’t just let it go,” Pastry explained, squeezing Red Velvet’s hand softly. 

Pure Vanilla nodded. “We understand. We know how it is, being attached to your home and family. Black Raisin and I will always have part of us in the little Raisin village on the cliffs overlooking the Vanilla Kingdom.” 

Red Velvet nodded. “If you ever need any assistance from us, tell the hounds. They’ll find me.” 

“We will, thank you,” Pure Vanilla said as he began to lead his little family away from the tower. 

“Oh, and Pure Vanilla Cookie?” Red Velvet called, causing the ancient cookie to pause and turn back. 

“Yes, Red Velvet Cookie?” he asked, confused. “Is something wrong?” 

“Oh, no, there isn’t, I just thought you should know about the mission next week.”  

“What mission?” Black Raisin asked, suspicion lacing her tone. 

“Oh, just the one in the Pure Vanilla Kingdom,” Red Velvet said nonchalantly, smiling smugly. “Thought you’d want to know that Dark Choco is going to be sent there to make sure no Vanillian Cookies are hiding in the ruins, specifically Crepe, and to chase out anyone he finds.” 

“Why are you telling us this?” Crepe asked in confusion. “I’m not there anymore.” 

“I know that, and you know that, but he doesn’t,” Red Velvet grinned. 

“If, per se, there was a battalion of Xeyalian cookies waiting for him and he happened to get captured, well, who would be the wiser?” Pastry mused, smiling herself. “Certainly not the Cookies of Darkness. He’s going alone after all…” 

Realization dawned on Pure Vanilla’s face as he processed that. “You’re saying…” 

“Consider it your payment,” Pastry said kindly. “He better not come back to the Cookies of Darkness from that mission, Pure Vanilla Cookie.” 

“He won’t,” Pure Vanilla promised as he turned and walked toward home with his family in tow. 

He had an ambush to plan, after all.