Archive of Our Own ^beta

Red.

Everything here was so, so red.

Pastry Cookie stepped over a stray piece of old cake frosting and straightened her consecrated crossbow.

The frosting kept tricking her eyes..it was nearly the same red as strawberry jam.

But jam doesn’t move when you turn your back.

…

The whole place was alive in just the wrong way.

The cradle of Cookies’ life should have been pristine and still, but this tortured monument was practically undulating with garish colors.

But she had a mission. Even as her legs burned from this tower’s nigh-endless height, she had a mission.

To investigate the clouds of smoke looming overhead.

She jumped from a noise.

Turned, turned, then looked down.

A single hound, tail wagging, stood in front of her. Smaller than she was expecting.

Pastry had seen crème ones. Not many, but some. She had seen vanilla ones. Heard of berry ones. Even rice ones.

But this one was cake. No more, no less. It ran in circles, stumbling and barking with frosting flying off with every step. It looked at her with a half-wild and yet dopey expression.

Its expression changed when she drew back her bow.

Sponge. Jam. Butter. Frosting. Ash. Smoke. Ash. Smoke.

Cake.

Cake.

CAKE!

Through stale batter and rust-ridden trays, they persist. The hounds open their bright eyes and burst out of the oven ahead of their tray, yipping and snarling, unstoppable—

“SIT!”

Well. Near-unstoppable, in any case.

As soon as their rampage began, it slams to a halt. The frosted dogs tumble over each other to be the first one to still, and all of their eyes become transfixed on the speaker.

Despite being surrounded by huge Cakes, he manages to tower over, commanding respect.

But what is he? Cookie? But..Cake? Cookie?

But then—whatever he is—he smiles and that’s all that matters to their wagging tails.

Ten. Twenty. Thirty.

“Foul creatures, I release you from your sweet temptations! Begone!”

Over and over, Pastry shouted and shouted as she forced herself to look the fallen creatures in the eyes, black beads of life losing their glint again and again.

There’s a price I pay. There’s a price everyone must pay. A price. A price.

“We are but the butter and the dough, sponge and jam. .”

She wished that they would drop dead this instant. Pastry insisted to herself that it was because of their stain, but her heart wanted to just not do this anymore.

H ow dare I. This is a privilege. A privilege. I get to free this place, baptize it anew .

So why don’t I feel proud?

I don’t understand.

Why do I want to kneel down in these crimson wastes and never rise?

There was a disturbance. While Red Velvet did not appreciate that oh-so-superior jeweled cookie telling him to simply ‘deal with the intruder’ as if he didn’t have barracks to fill, he wasn’t planning on letting this disturbance remain.

He was following the sounds of ivory on crimson.

Now he was seeing flashes of a golden veil. The color made him flinch. He had left the tower many a time, but those colors still disturbed his eyes.

Finally, he saw the gnat. That bright veil fluttering around untidy purple hair. Hugging a bright crossbow to her chest and felling Cake after Cake as she muttered and shouted.

Red Velvet’s eyes darted around at the lumps of batter and frosting.

Sugar skeletons, sponge warriors; hounds. All with names.

Genoiese.

Angel.

Coffee.

Carrot.

And..oh.

Ganache.

The runt who always cared too much to land a single bite, even in training.

…

But there was no time to mourn.

This really was a nightmare of a gnat he had found.

Red Velvet steeled himself and stepped out into view. He was used to a lack of care for his brethren, so as much as it pained him, this might be a misled ally.

He smirked, but she wouldn’t know it was forced.

“And so the gnat shows herself. How fitting for a gnat to be attracted to sweet things…”