Archive of Our Own ^beta

In the deepest realms of Beast-Yeast lay a luciferian tower. It resembled the kind of display one might bring out for Halloween. It was so terrifying that it almost didn’t seem real. But it was. It was as real as one could get. 

 This estate was alienated from the rest of Earthbread. Many twists and turns and challenges faced anybody who dare seek it out. The task was a daunting one, of course, if you weren’t one of the many cookies who inhabited it. 

 The estate was several stories tall, and it’s roof was decorated with cherries and candles to serve as bright lights to guide the Servants of Darkness. Monstrous thorns sprouted from the ground surrounding the base of the building, strangling and scratching any unwelcome entity who neared it. One singular balcony wrapped around the brown exterior on the second tier, allowing for a clear view of the forest. While this place may be the breeding ground for pure evil— at times— high-spirits filled its halls.

 A tall pine tree stood in the middle of the foyer. Both stair cases seemed to make way for the giant. It was decorated with red jellies and streamers, and on the very top was a sparkling red diamond. It radiated a sort of chaotic energy, perfect for the occasion.

 The Servants of Darkness were busy as always. Only this time, they weren’t prepping to put their sinister plans into motion. They were preparing for the Holidays.

“Where did you put my controller? I NEED THAT!”

“Pomegranate… can you help me… with… this…?”

“… Come here.”

“Hey! Your tie is on wrong! And the roast goes there!”

“Your tie is on wrong, too. And the roast goes there…”

“Stop trying to enchant it. It’s a plate, it won’t work.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Keep that out of reach of the cakes, please.”

 The Chess Choco twins were bickering over their ties. Pawn White was fumbling with Pawn Black’s, but Pawn Black was overwhelmingly resistant, pushing her away when given the chance. 

 The Chess Choco twins were tiny yet mighty cookies. They were well versed in the game of chess. In fact, they were prodigies. When their home was destroyed, they were forced to flee the Dark Cacao Kingdom, without their parents. Holding on tightly to one another, they realized that they had nothing left. Only each other. Cold and hungry, they spent days wandering aimlessly, praying to the Divine for a miracle. They burned their last stick of incense to honor their parents in a dark alleyway, and the strays gathered around them in clumps as if to pay respects. The smoke soon died out, along with their hope. Everything they once knew was gone with the wind. Until one day, when a shadow drew itself over the two of them, offering a helping hand. And they had no other choice but to accept. 

 And here they were. 

 Always moving in sync, they argued in sync, their efforts relentless as they ventured to the dining hall. 

 Meanwhile, Pomegranate was busy buttoning up Poison Mushroom’s purple vest.  

 Pomegranate was a woman with a tempter as short as herself. Though she stood only five feet two inches, her words could really pack a punch. Her hair was a fiery red, much like her personality, and was always tied up in two neat buns. She always sported red ceremonial clothing from her priestess days. Why she would dare to was unknown. Perhaps she still felt a connection. 

 Pomegranate had a perfect tan with glowing, dewy skin. Complimenting her face were two ruby red eyes and a set of luscious long white lashes, which she always lined sharply. They say her if her wing was a knife, it certainly would cut. 

 In summary, she was undeniably beautiful. Perhaps she could have been more if not for the environment she grew up in. Maybe if there was somebody who truly understood the essence of her person, she would’ve turned out alright. There was no trace of a genuine smile on her lips nowadays. Her soul had died. She was an empty shell of her past self, and she was cruel. Her regard for others was… alarmingly low. 

 But she was nice to look at. 

 Poison mushroom, on the other hand, had barely even lived. He was discovered by Pomegranate during a trip to the outskirts of her village. The child was abandoned. While she tried to find his parents, she had no luck. He was left to his own devices in a basket. Guilt tugged at her heart strings (once upon a time, when she was still able to feel such emotion) and she brought the matter up to her master, who welcomed the mere infant with open arms. He was the only one yet to be corrupted by the forces of Darkness and retained a great deal of his innocence. While nobody ever voiced it, they all hoped it would stay that way. His smile could brighten up any room, and he loved each and every one of his companions, whether they deserved that love or not. 

 Pomegranate helped to straighten out the poofy lavender hair beneath his spotted mushroom cap of a deeper purple. The dark circles around his eyes never hindered the lightning that erupted in his irises, and as Pomegranate tidied him up, he rocked about on his heels.

“Does it look… good?” The child drawled. Without a single alteration to her face, she replied: “Sure.”

 Poison Mushroom hugged her legs, and Pomegranate went stiff. She never received hugs. Nobody ever did. It was a good thing he didn’t discriminate. He loved everyone.

 Pomegranate faced her reflection in her magic mirror after he had parted, mostly to collect herself after that… encounter. She wasn’t one to do her makeup, but today, she found the occasion appropriate enough to do so. She had done her eyeliner, as always, and placed red shadow under her bottom lashes. Her lips were perfect, plump, and rosy to the point where it made her completely and utterly kissable. If anyone ever tried it though, her look of vengeance would be the last thing they’d ever see. 

 Setting the table was none other than Licorice and Dark Choco. Licorice was heavily insisting on using his wizardry to help out, but all Dark Choco did was scowl at him and shoot his ideas down. Truthfully, that might’ve been a good thing. The last thing any of them needed was their little dinner party being foiled. They weren’t exactly fan favorites at the moment. Their Master would have their heads chopped off if they ruined anything.

 Licorice wasn’t really tall in comparison to Dark Choco, but he wasn’t exactly short either. We’ll say he’s a decent height. He liked to wear long robes with big sleeves and hoods. The hood usually obscured his long, dark purple hair, as he always failed to properly tend to it in the mornings. His eyes were a cheerful and eccentric shade of yellow, a perfect fit for their beholder.

 He was the only wizard in the group. He studied hard in school, though he never pursued his dreams, unlike his peers. In order to make a statement, he involved himself in black magic. Being able to summon his own minions and control them was just one of his many talents. He could wield all kinds of magic, including the newly invented dessert magic. He was of great brilliance. But that brilliance seemed to be wasting away.

 Dark Choco could relate. He used to be the prince of a very powerful kingdom, renowned for their military power and dedicated warriors. Nestled in the mountain ranges of the Great Icing Ridge lay the Dark Cacao Kingdom. He was loved by many for his kind heart, pure soul, and ambition. The young prince strived for the betterment of his people, though he and his parental never always saw eye to eye…

 Memories of what once was disappeared as he descended into the blizzard, his long black hair at the mercy of the harsh winds. Each pale strand blended well with the snow, and it had almost made him hope he would sink into nullity. Perhaps the storm would take him. 

 They say his red eyes met another’s through the storm, someone whom he pledged to protect til his dying day. Her cries for him ran on a cruel playback in his mind, and those bittersweet memories have never left him since. 

 Those damned memories of her…

 Next, there was Strawberry Crepe. They were an absolute genius. They were well versed in the science of magichanical engineering. Back in the Vanilla Kingdom, they were the only one who knew how to effectively fix and control the Wafflebots. They’ve certainly helped a great deal there.

 Their hair was a bright bubblegum pink, and their eyes a bright aquamarine. They often wore big shorts with brightly colored shirts and sneakers. Tons of beaded jewelry, too. Naturally, they had to dress much better for the occasion. Today they were in white dress shorts and a pink turtle neck, finished off with a multicolored glass bead necklace and matching earrings. They even paired it with white loafers and knee high socks. They put a few clips in their hair, and voila.

 Though they were stomping around, ready to tear apart the estate brick by brick for their controller, they looked rather cute doing it.

 At long last, Red Velvet came along. Tall, handsome, and just a little bit shy. He never said too much, but when he did, he always made sure to speak his mind.

 He was the commander of the Cake Hound Army and a valuable asset to their master and her operations. A normal person would be horrified knowing what he’s done, but he was rather proud. He was brutally honest, a trait he had inherited from a certain someone. Currently, he was on his way to her room.

 Red Velvet had long red hair that couldn’t help but be a perfect fluffy mess, partially covering his azure eyes at times. To combat this, he throughly brushed it and braided it that morning. He had been taught by that certain someone how to do so. She always emphasized a good hairdo. She even used to braid his hair when he was younger once it started to get a bit lengthy. He never wanted to cut it, either. So he had no choice but to learn. 

 Today was Christmas Eve, so he opted for a maroon vest paired with a black long-sleeved dress shirt and black dress pants. Oh, and you couldn’t forget the red tie. He never really cared for jewelry, but he decided that maybe today was a good day for it. On his fingers were silver rings, some with unique stones and some without. The only exception was perhaps a pendant of a purple crystal. He wore it with his more casual sweaters on a regular basis, but not now. It wouldn’t look too flattering. 

 He knocked on the door at the very end of the hallway. The red hues reflecting off the crimson windows bathed him in their light as he waited for the door to open, and once it did, he stepped into the dimly lit room. A candle was sitting on the mantle, filling the room with a soft vanilla scent. He peered up at the tall woman before him.

“I brought something for you.”

 Red Velvet fished for something inside his pocket and pulled out a green brooch. There were flowers engraved and carefully painted all along the metal, and the jewel glittered with glory. The woman simply nodded.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I thought you’d might like to wear it today. You wore it a few years ago, but never again. I found it when I cleaning earlier. Mom, is it… ok?”

 The one called Mom wore a solemn expression. She didn’t reply, for she was studying the brooch like she would a book. Mom was in contemplation. About what, though? 

“It will do just fine,” she replied, pinning it to her collar. “Strange you still call me that.”

 Despite her judgements, he chose to ignore them. It was routine, these days. Her remarks had been less harsh this time around, so he chose not to acknowledge them. He did however take a moment to admire her. She was a very fashionable woman, he had to admit. He used to help her pick out clothing. He did it when he was a little younger, but not anymore. 

 Today she was sporting a long, black lace dress. There were hints of red beneath the fabric, and the fabric created a turtle neck for her. Her sleeves hugged her arms up until her forearm where they flared out and nearly covered her hands. Beneath her skirt were black heeled leather boots. Her hair was nearly combed the way it always was, and diamond earrings (with a singular pearl attached, perhaps as an accent) dangled from her ears. She wore countless silver rings on her fingers just like him. 

“Are you ready for dinner?” She asked him. He nodded, and the two of them took their time walking back to the dining hall where they would meet the others. 

 Now that they were all together, a bone chilling silence fell over the room. They all exchanged glances full of anticipation as The One and Only took her seat at the head of the table. Poison Mushroom was cooing happily and attempting to reach over the table. Well, at least he wasn’t so stiff. 

 Their master finally settled in, and she motioned for her son to fix his tie. Red Velvet groaned, but nonetheless obeyed. 

 Finally, she addressed the party.

“As you know, it’s Christmas Eve, and as is tradition, we have a feast every year. Some have been with us since the start, others are merely new additions. However, I am… pleased to be within your presence on his fine evening,” she said, her voice perfectly refined and polite. “It’s customary to say thanks or to pray before enjoying a meal, especially on a holiday like this. But prayer is for those who have succumbed to delusion. Does celebrating one’s murderer seem right to you?” 

 The Servants all collectively shook their heads. Their master smiled in content.

“Good. Now, let us eat.”

 The moment she picked up her utensils, everyone followed suite. 

 While it was a nice dinner, there was one critical asset missing: conversation. They were all terrible at finding common ground other than relating to the fact that they all worked full-time to terrorize denizens in all four corners of the world. 

 Licorice attempted to break the ice.

“Will Lobster not be joining us tonight?” He asked.

 Their master shook her head. 

“No,” she said in between bites of jelly roast. “He’s occupied with his own work. When he will be back is uncertain as of late.”

 Lobster Cookie joined them sometimes. He used to be quite prominent in older operations, but he was missing in action.

 A little bit like Matcha. Seldom was she mentioned, for most of the Servants have ongoing tensions with her. She was the only known family member of their master. 

 Licorice’s attempt proved to be futile. After that point, nobody else dared to speak. The adults continued to eat in silence and the children tried to make towers out of their side dishes, only eating them once the edible structures would tumble down back to their plates.

“Why are you all so silent?”

“I would rather die than speak to you,” Pomegranate said, taking a sip of sparkling juice from her glass. 

“You…!”

“….Calm yourselves,”  Dark Choco said, throwing both Pomegranate and Licorice dirty looks. “Must you two always bicker?”

“He opened his mouth first. Don’t you dare blame me.”

“Hey! I’m only trying to be kind and courteous. Ever heard of that, Pomegranate?”

 Red Velvet groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Will you please shut up?”

“…smile! Hehe,” Poison Mushroom giggled, doing their best to look over the table. “Don’t be… mad…!”

“UGHHH. You guys ALWAYS do THIS!” Strawberry Crepe complained, putting their headphones back on.

“It’s too loud…!” The Chess Choco Twins said in unison, holding onto each other. 

 Their agitated master slammed her hand down on the table with great force, causing every dish to rattle. The commotion soon died down, and the Servants looked to her, dumbfounded. 

“Licorice and Pomegranate, quit being childish! Dark Choco, silence yourself. Strawberry Crepe, take those headphones off, and there will be no more yelling at this dinner table,” their master demanded. “And the rest of you.” She looked to the much younger ones with great sympathy. “…Eat your food.”

 Once the main courses were all devoured, their loyal butler, a werehound named Esterházy, brought them all dessert. He was perhaps the most polite person in the building. Perfect manners no matter how bitter the subject he was dealing with was. He cared for all the Servants of Darkness just the same. He even pledged his allegiance to the Dark Enchantress, otherwise known as their master. Everybody deeply respected him. You simply could not cross that werehound. 

 Red Velvet wandered to the foyer and uncovered something. As the fabric fell to the floor, a black grand piano was unveiled. He uncovered the keys and sat down on the chair provided, allowing his fingers to rest gently on top. His eyes traced each black and white bar, and he pondered about the piece he should play. After recalling the events of his summer, the air around him grew melancholy. Though a bit desolate, it set the mood for the piece he was to play. With ease, he began to play. 

 Each note and rhythm floated throughout the castle with ease, and he was melting into the keys, playing as if it would be his last. Nobody was around to witness it. Perhaps it would reach an audience, but surely his sound would fall on deaf ears.

 He was wrong.

 Clapping ensued as he finished playing, and as he turned his head up, he found none other than Esterházy emerging from the shadows, a proud smile upon his face. 

“You make beautiful music, my boy.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Why yes! Of course! You had an excellent teacher, after all.”

 Oh.

 His mother had taught him how to play. They’d spend hours at the same piano, learning every note and chord little by little. How he missed those days… She was so gentle. Her love was evergreen. 

 The butler seemed to notice his expression dropping, as he came to stand next to Red Velvet and placed a trusting hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve watched you grow ever since you were freshly baked,” Esterházy said. “Though you are not a little boy anymore, you still have that same ambition. I sense an inner conflict within you. Never mind finding it’s cure, for it will find itself. Just like you uncovered the piano, a solution will soon unveil itself, and all your troubles will evaporate in the wake of a symphony. You were so free when you performed just now, and I advise you to never lose that. Do not drive yourself crazy, Red Velvet.”

 It brought a tear to his eye.

 He hadn’t received such care in a while…

“Esterházy…?”

“Yes?”

“Why do you think… everyone’s the way they are?”

 The werehound thought for a moment.

Red Velvet had lived with these people all his life. He knew them like the back of his hand. Or, he thought he did. The lot of them were extremely closed off. Their walls were built so high they touched the stars. 

“They’ve all gone through so much,” he explained, a frown fixating itself upon his lips. “They’re not all bad. They’ve all made questionable choices, yes, but do understand that some people are simply victims of circumstance. They all have stories, and whether or not they’re ready to be vulnerable and share them is purely up to them. But, I don’t see that happening anytime soon. For some of them, vulnerability was their downfall…”

 As he said that, he gazed upon the pictures on the wall, setting his eyes on a very specific photo of none other than Pomegranate Cookie. Esterházy advanced towards it, Red Velvet close behind him. The two examined the framed photo, and the young woman in it wore a subtle yet beautiful smile. Here, she looked much younger, though something in her irises indicated a certain uneasiness. What happened to her?

“What are you getting at?” Red Velvet furrowed his brows. 

“Haven't you ever wondered why she never smiles like that anymore?”

“Well… has she ever smiled?

 Esterházy chuckled. 

“How little you know.”

 The butler clapped his hands, and suddenly a velvet couch appeared, and an unknown force pushed Red Velvet down to it. Esterházy cleared his throat.

“Would you like to find out?”

 Full of curiosity, he watched Esterházy sit across from him. The room suddenly morphed into its own story book, illusions and little magical subjects dancing within the palm of his hand, depicting the story of the Crimson Priestess.

“Our story begins in the Pomegranate Village, where a very powerful and gracious sorceress was born…”