Archive of Our Own ^beta

Licorice was pacing around his bedroom, fingers nervously entwined and picking at the skin. He was an idiot. An absolutely weak, pathetic, idiot. He had made a promise he was unsure he could keep which on its own would not feel so severe but given who it was for it left him feeling as though the life was slowly draining from his body. Dark Choco Cookie was serious and intense in his convictions and he knew trying to explain this inevitable failure with “ Sorry! You mean so much to me I got caught up in the moment, I just wanted you to know how much I love you!” would not exactly repair the damage. Curses were complex things and when he took a closer look at Choco’s blade while he slept he could almost feel it watching him back. He remembered the dark red gem in the center flickering with the fire light, like it was alive. The magic that emanated from it felt intense and powerful. It made Licorice wonder how Choco, who did not come from a magic based upbringing, could even hold the thing. Being near it made Licorice feel nauseous from the sheer weight of its power.

The situation…was far less than ideal. Licorice had an interest in curses and cursed artifacts but actually getting his hands on one was near impossible which by proxy meant he had next to no experience with anything aside from reading what he could on them. They typically weren’t just laying about, but then that circled him back to Choco. How on Earthbread did he find the thing? Something of this magnitude would no doubt be hidden in a tomb or buried with its final owner. He knew Dark Choco could be quite studious, showing on multiple occasions to be rather intelligent and well versed and a multitude of subjects and topics, perhaps he read something about it? But then that begs even more questions. Licorice felt a bit woozy from his almost mechanical pacing, breathing a bit jaggedly as he was swallowed by his thoughts. The memory of yesterday’s fight resurfaced.

Choco had been frenzied, taking out each target with almost unnatural precision and tact…until he wasn’t. It was like he snapped, Licorice watching him use a strong kick to essentially break a set of the Black Sugar Scorpions’ legs inwards before slamming his blade down the center of its back. He remembered feeling himself shiver as Choco twisted it before yanking it out, spraying the creature's blood with a cruelty that was unlike him. He had fought alongside the warrior before. He was usually tactful and smart in his positioning and movements, each flowing together like a flawless graceful dance, practiced to perfection. When Choco did make a killing blow, he made them concise and quick, presumably preferring to give his enemy a quick and honorable end. In this state he was mindless, throwing himself into the middle of the fight and descending into sheer rage. When Choco lifted his sword overhead, black electricity twinged with red at the edges entwining around his arms as he slammed the blade down on the ground, the electricity went out in shockwaves, like a storm being commanded by his own hand. Licorice ended up dashing away to hide behind a nearby rock as he took out enemy after enemy, or rather anything in his way that moved or breathed.

It was unnatural seeing the man he admired for his maturity and calmness break in such a gut wrenching way. Watching him crush and kill in the most brutal manner he could manage, when just the night before he was asleep in Licorice’s arms. His calloused hands that would touch Licorice with such great care were coated in blood and remnants of his vanquished foes. Even when he was through, Licorice watched him nervously over his hiding spot, witnessing him sway in place like his own body could not figure out how to keep upright. Once he realized he was injured he bolted out, abandoning his scythe along the way to try and keep his lover standing. When his eye finally opened he looked weak, vulnerable, entirely unaware of his surroundings. It made Licorice’s heart ache painfully.

Even now he had trouble making sense of any of it. He could not grasp such a thing, why someone so perfect would feel the need to reach for something so wretched. Choco was strong, a well worked body and sharp mind that Licorice adored, but Choco himself never seemed satisfied with. The Necromancer was no better, he hated himself and knew Choco probably had his own confusing reasons for liking him, but when it came to Choco it just did not click. He was confident with his combat abilities but in hand with his confidence was disgust. He didn’t seem to acknowledge his intellect or strength, only his lethality and power. Licorice could not bring himself to voice the notion but he wanted to, the assumption that his upbringing had something to do with how hard he was on himself.

He used to poke fun at Choco for his former prince status when they first met of course, but it proved to be a sensitive subject so he quickly learned to avoid it at all costs. Licorice's own family despised him, hated him for simply existing and not being strong enough to survive fruitfully in their surroundings. It was understandable given how unforgiving their environment was, understandable but not forgivable. Since taking care of Poison Mushroom Cookie he realized how truly hard it is to hate a child, something so innocent and pure. Even though he would pretend to be annoyed or bothered by Poison’s mischief he could never dream of speaking to them the way his parents did. He knew nothing of the King, Choco’s father, let alone their relationship, but it seemed to have been strained. Licorice couldn’t see Dark Choco being a troublemaker as a child or a teen, even now he would scold Licorice for petty theft or his rudeness towards others. He was…too kind to have been a problem. He was too smart to have been in trouble academically. None of it would fit together in his mind.

Unless of course it was the pressure. Licorice had seen the way Choco trains, pushing his body as hard as it could without care for hurting himself. He did not indulge in any pleasures, no nutritious sweets or fun jokes, getting him to laugh was like pulling teeth. It was rather bleak. Licorice felt it sometimes, the way Dark Choco would occasionally withdraw from him suddenly, as if he had come to his senses and remembered he isn’t allowed to feel comfortable or cared for. It was an aching and raw feeling that would rack Licorice’s body each time it happened. Despite how close they had become it still felt like that line was present and Licorice hated it. He wanted to shatter it, to smother his lover with as much affection he could muster. He could not fathom someone not loving him, let alone his own Father. In the years before Licorice left his tribe, the support of the Watchers had significantly decreased, rations not always making it to them and less and less aid or repairs for their structures. It left a bit of a bitter taste in Licorice’s mouth. While the King was known to be cold and strong, the Prince was always accepted as the kinder of the two. The light alongside the dark. He knew very little about Choco during his princehood, his tribe not exactly in the loop, but he knew Choco well enough now to find it true. There was always a wall between them to some extent. He knew his lover held himself back from smiling or laughing or speaking, dulling himself to fade into the background of any room as if taking up space was the worst thing he could possibly do. But it was impossible for someone to never feel or express, and each time Choco let a chuckle slip or a smile tug at his lips it felt like a gift from the Witches themselves, a glimpse into his true self hidden beneath the veils of pain and regret. They shimmered like the most expensive gold and jewels, and Licorice would never tire from the sight.

His pacing ceased as there was a knock on the door. Licorice could tell it was Dark Choco by the way it remained closed until he gave permission to enter, Choco opening it and calmly entering his room, back against the door as he closed it. Licorice opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t urge himself to, eyes soaking in the sight of his lover, goodness this was his lover. Choco was dressed casually in his usual relaxed attire, skin cleaned to perfection from any of the mess that had been stuck to it before, his curly hair no longer stiff and soaked in blood but instead clean and a bit heavy from being mildly wet still. He smelled divine, Licorice able to pick up hints of florals and hazelnut. During his staring he missed the way Choco’s eyebrows shifted together slightly.

“Is something wrong?” Dark Choco asked, his voice that usual cool and indifferent register it always was. Licorice swallowed thickly, still fiddling with his fingers nervously.

“You smell good.” Licorice blurted out clumsily, face twinged with blush. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Choco’s gaze relaxed, a softness in his features as he made his way to where Licorice was standing. “ Ah, your...sword. You didn’t bring it?” Licorice asked, looking at his hip to see no sheath.

“You said you wanted me to watch you cast.” Choco murmured. “ And I am not bringing it into this room.” He said more firmly.

“Ah, sorry, I must have spaced it…uh, about your sword though, how do you expect me to-” Licorice began speaking but was quickly cut off.

“I am never stepping foot into this room with that blade in my hands. If you wish to study it physically we shall do so elsewhere, but never here.” Choco’s voice was unwavering, eye fixated on Licorice with enough intensity to make him shrink into himself a bit.

“F-fine! That is fine!” He said swiftly, eyes wide and nervous compared to Choco’s cool gaze. The other seemed to notice his shift in posture and adjusted adequately, relaxing his tense shoulders and face. “...Are..Do you feel like if you bring it in here you’re going to hurt me?” Licorice asked. He watched Choco’s expression shift from one of calm to a mild discomfort, but given Choco’s lack of facial expressions with anything, Licorice could comfortably assume he was more uncomfortable with the question than he let on. He waited patiently, not wanting to rush him to an answer.

“Your bedroom is…safe.” Choco said slowly, eye shifting to the side to avoid meeting the Necromancer’s gaze. “I do not want to…infect it with something so awful.” The admission was a bit painful to hear, Licorice’s hands moving up to cup his face gently, pausing for a moment before his hand made contact to give Choco time to move away if he desired, but instead he leaned into it.

“That is more than fine.” Licorice spoke softly, a tone unusual for him. Neither of them were particularly soft around the edges, only when together alone did they behave in such a way, with such tenderness. Licorice could occasionally be coaxed into cutting his familiars some slack, sometimes humoring Poison Mushroom Cookie’s antics, but with Choco it felt unbridled. “ Instead of watching me cast today, if you are up for it, may I ask you some questions about it?” He asked carefully. While Choco was physically strong, he tended to falter when it came to emotional matters, much preferring to flee instead of confront something so delicate head on. Licorice was the opposite, sometimes being too hard headed and instant on communication to a fault, until he gets frustrated when not reciprocated, when he doesn’t get a response even though he is not always entitled to one. He could not find himself getting frustrated with Choco though, not when that cold stoic front melted at his touch into something so special. He watched Dark Choco remain silent, visibly mulling over his options. Licorice noticed him start to grow uneasy and mended this with his free hand slipping into Choco’s, fingers entwining like they were made for nothing more than each other. This touch, this comfort seemed to be enough to ease whatever concerns the warrior was feeling.

“I will try my best.” Choco answered. Licorice beamed up at him, rewarding his progress by moving the hand on his cheek to the back of his neck and hauling him down for an affectionate kiss. It was short and pleasant, enough to soothe his partner's nerves. He guided Choco by hand to the bed, the two plopping down across from each other. Licorice sat slouched as he hauled over a large empty leather bound tome and his writing supplies. Choco sat on his knees, legs folded beneath himself with his back straight and hands clasped in his lap. As Licorice began scribbling some things down in the first few pages Choco watched him a touch nervously. “ …Yesterday, you mentioned you can…feel the energy from it..” He spoke quietly with his gaze focused on the window above his desk nearby, not the Necromancer. Licorice paused his writing to focus his attention on Choco.

He was nearly impossible to read, even to Licorice, who studied his mannerisms religiously. Each movement and word from him was poised and with purpose instead of the more preferred use of expressing. Despite this, one look at Choco made it clear. His shoulders were tense and his jaw clenched, despite his entire body being still his hands were shaking ever so slightly. It looked as though all of his energy was being put towards staying composed and hidden. His eye, while focused on the window, looked distant and a bit glassy. He looked afraid.

“ Y-yes…It’s sort of hard to explain, but I can feel it kind of…” He moved his hands around himself as a sort of gesture, not that Choco was looking at him anyways. “ Uh…I guess it is kind of like after a really heavy storm, when the air is hot and muggy and you can feel it kind of weighing on you.” He tried to formulate some sort of sentence to even touch on the sensation, finding it hard. Choco remained silent, Licorice staring at him in an attempt to gain some sort of understanding of what he was thinking or feeling. “Th-the way I describe it makes it sound bad, but it’s not! It’s just weird! Not a bad weird but…” Licorice stumbled over his words dreadfully, giving up with a sigh. The weight of the silence between them was agonizing. Each moment with the absence of sound or speaking felt long and uncomfortable.

“...Dark Magic…” Choco’s voice almost made Licorice flinch. “It is not a forgiving thing…is that correct?” He asked, words feeling hollow and distant as if he barely realized he was saying them. He did not need to explain or clarify. Licorice already understood the question far before it was asked, something he knew would be uttered but had meekly hoped could be avoided.

“...N-not always! Some..sometimes it..” Licorice’s voice shook as he squirmed a little. They both already knew how dire this situation was, the Necromancer just couldn’t bring himself to accept it.

“ Licorice, do not dance around my words…Be honest with me, I can take it.” Choco said a bit more firmly. Licorice felt a raw lump in his throat as he fought the urge to deny and lie, to try and convince Dark Choco he was not running out of time.

“...No…It is not forgiving. It can be strong and useful in the right hands but…unfortunately it is rarely used for things like that.” He admitted quietly, shoulders slouching as he slowly drew scribbles on the corner of the page of his tome, eyes getting locked into the shaky spirals he created. There was another pause, the only sound being from the tip of the fountain pen dragging about the parchment.

“ I am sorry, Licorice…” Choco whispered, voice raw and aching. Licorice’s eyes darted up to his face, expecting to see tears but instead there was the same empty expression, tears brimming but refusing to fall. “ I should have declined your help, or been more distant with you…”

“Enough! Don’t you dare be sorry!” Licorice yelled, feeling his chest rattle as he tried to take in a breath. His nails dug into the leather cover of the tome hard enough that it felt as though they were going to break off. “ You have done nothing wrong! I-I can handle this!” Licorice lied. He was hopeless, his lover's life was dangling by a thread in an unknown being, or perhaps even fate's hands, and there was no way he would be deft enough to save it.

“ You are burdened with my blood on your hands if you cannot help me…and no matter what I say or how I try to fix it I cannot help you. I will apologize and cry over it but there is ultimately nothing either of us can do, is there?” Choco’s eye, beautiful carnelian and blooming with misery, finally turned to focus on Licorice.

Seeing Choco so vulnerable and honest, so hopeless, it was painful. The urge to wallow in these devastating sensations tugged at Licorice’s heart, but something took its place rather quickly. Something he had felt before, but the intensity of it felt like too much. His words slipped from his mouth before he could think of what he was even saying.

“ You underestimate how spiteful I am.” He mumbled, eyes holding his gaze. “ I don’t care if you have given up on yourself, I can shoulder that for you.” He watched the barely visible twinge of blush blooming on Choco’s face, it spurred him on. “ I…don’t enjoy sharing…I want all of you, every piece including the ones that stupid sword is keeping to itself…I want them and I will take them, regardless of what gets in my way.” It was a dark thought he never had the urge to voice, ashamed of how possessive and eerie it felt. Despite the initial dread of perhaps exposing a feeling he should have kept buried deep inside his heart, he watched Choco’s steely expression melt away with each and every word. He saw the way his chest stuttered with a breath as he seemingly tried to collect himself and Licorice felt dizzy with it. It was something reserved for Licorice and the concept of being needed, of being dependable to someone, it was invigorating. “...Let's start on these questions, shall we?” Licorice asked softly, a pleased grin resting on his face as he felt content with the reaction he earned. Choco seemed to need verbal confirmation of love, to be told firmly he is cared for and adored and Licorice would never desire to deprive him of something so important. Choco did not speak but gave a stiff nod, seemingly still trying to process his words, as if the idea of someone caring about him in such a way was unheard of. “ I know you don’t like talking about…your time before being here but it would be really useful to help me understand, if it feels like too much just let me know, okay?” He kept his voice soft and kind. His usual neurotic tendencies would be disastrous in such a delicate situation so he did his best to keep as calm as he could manage.

“...I will try.” Choco murmured, gaze shifting down to the bed. Licorice watched him carefully, trying to search for any signs of upset, but instead took note of his posture again. Choco usually sat with his back straight, shoulders rolled back and elegant looking, but he looked a bit odd. His back was straight but his shoulders were a bit hunched forward now, weight on his wrists on each thigh.

“Oh! By the swan, you're injured, I am so so sorry! I don’t know how I forgot!” He spoke quickly and his hands moved a bit erratically as he shifted around where he was seated, struggling to decide if he should get up to try and collect some medical supplies to redress it, or to leave it be, perhaps Choco did not want to be touched? Or, well he is in pain clearly, perhaps he should lie down?

“I am fine…just..a bit tired is all.” Choco’s voice eased his frayed nerves, cool and steady as he always tended to be.

“Do..do you need, well I know you probably already have, unless you were in too much pain to… uh, do you need it redressed? Should I-” Licorice stumbled through his words clumsily, feeling himself grow frustrated by his own speech.

“That is not necessary.” Choco said a bit quickly, giving Licorice a slight smile, barely there before it disappeared. “Sitting upright applies some pressure to it…may I-”

“Y-you can-” Licorice blurted out, the two’s words overlapping messily. Both of them paused, looking at one another in mutual embarrassment. “...Lay down! Y-you can lay down!” Licorice, despite having bouts of competence and confidence, it was not something he was very good at consistently doing. Choco, as he half expected, did not laugh or get uncomfortable by his awkwardness, instead blessing Licorice with another more noticeable grin. It was like sunlight dappled through trees, the scent of flowers on a spring morning’s breeze. So many flowery and beautiful words and things fully shaped into his lovers expression, his mind stalled for a moment.

“May I lie my head in your lap again?” Choco asked, and his voice had a mirth to it that nearly took Licorice’s breath away. He swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the way his face was searing.

“Yh-yeah. Of course.” He tried to sound calm and cool like Choco usually did by lowering his voice a bit, but it instead made him sound like he had a cold. He heard Choco exhale through his nose sharply as he began moving, a makeshift laugh or sign of amusement. Licorice moved as well, having his back against the wall with some pillows to provide comfort as well as giving Choco space to lie down. Once they settled, Choco gently laid his head in Licorice’s lap, the Necromancer used his fingertips to move some damp curls from his face. He knew Choco usually would meticulously dry his hair after washing it, forgetting the reasoning but assuming since they were still damp that he must have been too tired to. Or in too much pain. Both ideas were equally displeasing. “Perhaps you should get some rest…a lot has been happening, I don’t want to overwhelm you.” Licorice offered, voice quiet as he gently caressed Choco’s face.

“I have endured far worse injuries, just because I am allowing you to be soft with me does not mean I am made of glass.” Choco grumbled, eyebrows twitching together in mild annoyance. Licorice found it cute.

“Oh, you’re ’allowing me’ to be all sweet with you, huh?” Licorice asked. “Thank you, my strong, tough warrior for allowing me this great, great privilege.” He spoke dramatically, luxuriating in Choco’s annoyance, not missing the barely noticeable dusting of blush on his cheeks. His dark, beautiful sepia skin made it difficult to spot but Licorice would never complain, it gave him an excuse to push his buttons to make it more noticeable after all.

“Enough.” Choco muttered, crossing his arms loosely as to not affect his wound but to still show some sign of defiance.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop…for now.” Licorice relented, his crooked wry smile still on his face as he pulled his tome over to rest on the bed atop a pillow beside him, on his left side, taking his pen in hand.

“Ah, I am in the way of your dominant hand, I can move.” Choco spoke quietly, Licorice silencing him with a wave of his hand.

“It’s no problem, I can write with both!” He said happily, a piece of him content with the ability to keep Choco close in such a simple way. His partner looked up at him with a bit of a surprised expression.

“You are ambidextrous?” He asked, a touch of interest in his voice. Licorice nodded as he used his right hand, thumb and finger holding his chin as he looked at his eye a bit intently. It was a silent examination, one he didn’t wish to worry Choco about.

“You sound quite interested.” Licorice mumbled playfully, a knowing grin curling at his lips as he studied his eye. It is a bright red, not the usual mulled maroon he was accustomed to. The pupil was clear and defined as it should be, although a touch dilated but given his missing eye Licorice assumed it was due to his body trying to accommodate the lack of peripheral vision. Physical signs of change in the body were not always consistent with cursed items, but it wasn’t unheard of. His left hand jotted down some notes as he released his face, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead as a reward.

“I..I just…did not know that about you.” Choco replied. Licorice picked up on the slight pause in his words, having to stop himself from teasing him about it.

“Uh huh..” Licorice said a touch smugly, giggling softly as Choco huffed in annoyance. “...ready?” He asked after a bit of a pause, feeling nervousness serpentine around his throat. Choco nodded and so Licorice began his line of questioning. “Do you remember how you found the sword?” He asked, fighting to keep his voice from shaking. He tried to calm himself down. How could he provide Choco any help if he was on the verge of shaking and crying from the pressure of the task in the first place? Since Choco promised to try and be more forthcoming with information Licorice made a unspoken promise himself, vowing to keep himself in line for the sake of this research, for the sake of saving his lover.

“...I..” Choco began speaking but paused after only one word. His breath stuttered for a moment as he closed his mouth. “I cannot remember.” He answered quietly.

“Is it as though you just have forgotten it, like a normal sort of forgetting?” Licorice questioned further, his left hand swiftly writing notes down. He briefly toyed with the idea of using some sort of hypnosis or something similar to see if he could coax the memory out of Choco.

“It…I am not sure.” Choco answered quickly, feeling his partner’s shoulders tense against his thigh.

“That’s okay darling, there is no need to rush.” Licorice soothed him gently, right hand moving to rest on Choco’s chest affectionately. “Would you like a moment to think about it?” He offered, the other answering with a nod. Once he finished scribbling down his notes he turned his gaze to look at Dark Choco. His eye was closed as he steadied his breathing. After some time he began speaking again.

“It feels…like I am locked out of it.” Choco mumbled, Licorice immediately returning to writing his findings. “ Even now, trying to remember anything from that time…it is as though it's been neatly removed..I can recall some things..my childhood and bits of my teen years, and…leaving. But nothing between that.” Licorice notated the information.

It was concerning. He was aware that Choco had moments of…being mentally absent, for lack of a better way of putting it, but they seemed to only last momentarily. It was tricky trying to decipher curses in any way. They tended to be old, some predating the Ancients surely. He could feel it when he examined Choco’s blade, his fingertips just barely touching the red gem in the handle, it felt old. Curses can be formed for many a reason, sometimes on purpose by a magic user, imbuing a portion of their own magical energy inside of an object with somewhat unknown results, most of which are arguably not very pleasant. Aside from scholarly assumptions, different regions around Earthbread had other ways of understanding them as well. The frozen and towering Giant Icing Ridge where both he and Dark Choco hailed from had a more spiritual opinion on them. The last owner of an object feeling unfulfilled or wronged by their passing, possessing and corrupting an item out of their own anger, or even large amounts of destruction and death soaking into something and feeding it raw energy until it is magical in nature. While Licorice tended to lean towards the more analytical view, knowing where Choco even found it could help him gain some sort of understanding…but the way the information was conveniently obstructed made him wonder if he was correct about its original location being an important key.

“ I am sorry, I am unsure how helpful I will be, if at all.” Choco’s quiet words dragged Licorice out of his thoughts, not realizing he had been sitting there in silence as he contemplated.

“Oh no, you are completely fine! Any information helps.” Licorice soothed him quickly. “Uh, any physical things you feel are different? Any pain or aches with seemingly no reasoning behind them?” He asked. He saw Choco’s eyebrows twitch.

“...When I ignore it..It feels like an itching in my hands, then it will slowly get worse, like an aching in my arms and shoulders.” He answered. Licorice noted his words, the hand on his chest smoothing over his collar bones soothingly which pulled an appreciative hum from Choco. “I am…I do not know if this counts but..” His voice strained a bit, clearing his throat and rolling his shoulders. Discomfort. Licorice listened with wrapped attention. “It is like…a hunger. It gnaws at my insides until I give in…then, when I do, It…it feels so good. I no longer think or feel…I just float..” His eye remained closed as he spoke.

Licorice felt his veins run cold. This was unusual. A cursed item was hardly sentient…right? But the way Choco explained it, as if it was training him and rewarding him for obeying…it was incredibly concerning. He had remembered reading some novel or research papers on curses and one of the findings suggested that cursed items could exist in tandem with possessed items, or that there was no line between the two at all. Choco certainly was acting possessed the day prior, was it a possessed weapon? Did Choco make a pact with some unknown entity to wield the blade? That idea could explain his ability to use it in general, concentrated dark magic feels sickening to be around for anyone, magic user or not, the fact that Choco was seemingly unaffected by its aura was jarring.

“What does it crave? What is it that you need to do?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“To kill…” Choco answered hollowly, voice sounding disconnected as if his mind was absent. “...blood…it wants blood…It makes me need it so I cannot get away…” His voice was shaky, Licorice prying his eyes from his tome to look down at Choco, eye open and looking at nothing as tears streaked down the side of his face. Licorice closed his tome and tossed it onto the floor, along with his writing utensils.

“Okay, that is enough for today, alright?” He whispered, eyes a bit wide as he saw the state the other was in. Hands shaking and breathing stuttered, unresponsive to his words. It was a familiar situation. Sometimes he would seemingly disappear from his own mind, body left behind like an empty shell. He was worried at first, but it faded as he knew how to help, that he could help. “You did great! Uh, why don’t we rest for a while...come here my darling, I’ve got you.” He whispered soothingly, laying down beside him and coaxing Choco into his arms. As he held his lover he briefly imagined how long he had this habit, this tendency to shut off completely. It was hard to discern if it was a product of the curse or something Choco just naturally did of his own accord. He knew very little of how the mind works which did not help considering Dark Choco’s laundry list of concerning behaviors that definitely needed to be addressed and remedied. Was this something he had always done, or if it was something that formed in recent years. A sense of unease washed over him at the understanding that it was going to be very difficult discerning where Choco’s behavior began and where the Strawberry Jam Swords grip on him resided. They laid together for a few minutes and Licorice truly expected his bout of absence to last longer, but Choco stirred in his arms much sooner.

A quiet sound of discomfort, Choco’s strong arms shaking slightly as he lifted himself off of Licorice’s chest, legs tucking underneath himself as he sat upright. Licorice watched him closely, trying to spot any physical differences but not truly seeing any that were concerning. He sat up and reached a hand out for his partner’s face but instead of leaning into it he practically flinched away as he felt his fingertip graze his cheek. Licorice withdrew his hand swiftly, holding it to his chest as he watched him.

“I am sorry-” Choco began to say again.

“Shut up.” Licorice mumbled. “By the witches, you're worse than me with the apologizing thing.” His voice sounded flat but there was an added bit of mischief to it, trying to ensure that Choco knew he was not truly being mean.

“Well, you often claim to be the best at everything, you certainly seem to be the best at that too.” Choco grumbled, giving him a cold look. There was a slight curl to the corner of his lips and Licorice scoffed.

“For having an affluent upbringing you're quite rude you know?! I am the best mage in this entire castle, on Earthbread even, and you have the gall to be so cruel to me!” Licorice wailed dramatically, flopping back onto the bed with a hand to his chest. Choco chuckled softly, flicking him on the knee. “And brutalizing me nonetheless!” Licorice squawked, acting as though the flick had nearly taken his leg off.

“The best at complaining as well apparently.” Choco mumbled quietly, Licorice gasping loudly and shooting upright.

“After everything I do for you, this is the thanks I get?” He asked, feigning hurt. Choco rolled his eye, shaking his head. The small act of dismissal had Licorice acting out even more. “ Remember when you ran off for hours into that cave and I found you, in the rain no less, and gave you food?! Providing for you even when-”

“A sandwich that you made with my cherry preserves, yes I recall this.” Choco interrupted, stoic façade beginning to falter when Licorice slowly turned his head to glare at him. “I also recall that you did not ask before using them as well…” He added, Licorice was able to see that he was fighting to stop a smile from forming on his face and he adored it, adored that he was able to soften his cold exterior so much.

“So I should have let you starve?” Licorice asked pointedly, seeing that façade crack at the edges a bit more as Choco exhaled through his nose sharply in a makeshift laugh. “ Forgive me, next time you are in crisis I’ll be sure to pack a delectable four course meal to eat right in front of you while you suffer.” He said firmly, having to stifle his own laughter so he could get the sentence out, holding up his hands.

“I did not realize four plates of charred ashes constitutes a meal…” Choco said quietly, gaze shifting down as he smoothed out the longer ends of his Jeogori calmly.

“Oh I’ll remember you said that the next time you try to slither your way into my bed in the middle of the night.” Choco broke, laughing softly as a smile formed on his face, quickly covering it with the back of his hand. His laugh was a bit raspy, crisp and short and it had Licorice’s heart beating out of his chest. He felt ill from it, the sensation akin to a tidal wave of pure adoration slamming into his feeble body, Choco’s smile threatening to drown him entirely. It was a sight that would no doubt flood his mind every moment he saw Choco from now on, the way his eyes creased as he laughed and how absolutely divine he looked. Happiness was never something Choco seemed to express let alone feel. But Licorice made him feel that way, He smiled and laughed and it was just for him, all his.

That dragging feeling of greed hauled itself into his chest once more and he could not shake it. It had a vice grip around his heart and he knew it was not a good thing to nurture but how could he not? How could someone not become consumed by such a dreadful need when faced with something so precious, more expensive than the finest of silks and purest of gems to ever be discovered. Not only did he get blessed with the gift of his laughter, his smile, but something worth so much more, his love and honesty. It reaffirmed his love was reciprocated without Choco having to utter a word, the words falling from his lips without a second thought.

“I love you so dearly, Dark Choco…” He mumbled and Licorice knew it was written clear as day on his own face, he was being so blatant with his affections but he simply did not care. He had been refraining from letting them slip for so long it felt impossible to do so now, he was simply too far gone. Choco’s smile faded immediately but Licorice could tell it was not from discomfort but rather surprise. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, closing it and staring at Licorice with a bit of a wide eye. It was so unlike him, never in his years of knowing the other had he seen him lost for words entirely. “What? You’re acting like you’ve never been told that before.” Licorice teased.

“I haven’t been.” Choco admitted quietly, Licorice picking up on the barely there dustings of blush on his cheeks. The admission felt a bit painful, unsure how anyone could not love him, but in tandem with that was an odd sense of satisfaction.

“Such a pity.” Licorice murmured, matching Choco’s volume. “I suppose I can pick up the slack then, only because it's for you, of course.” It felt odd, his usual stuttering and nerves were not nearly as present as they should have been. He felt comfortable around Choco and assumed that let him speak more freely, without the constant worry of messing up. Even if he did Choco had shown time and time again that he would reassure him with kindness, easing his concerns into nothingness. Licorice’s eyes lingered down to the other’s throat, watching as he swallowed thickly, looking to the side and using his curls as a makeshift curtain to hide his face. “Ah, I-I’m sorry, was that too much? I know it was kind of cheesy but, I-I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything!” Licorice said quickly, that once forgotten anxiety practically felt like a blunt object being slammed down into his skull with how quickly it came.

“No..I..I am not uncomfortable.” Choco mumbled, easing Licorice’s nerves swiftly. It was like second nature to him at this point. He tried to speak again but was unable to put his thoughts together, looking down at his hands in his lap. Licorice looked at them as well, following the thin light beige scars along his hands and fingers, pausing longer on the larger one on one hand, wider along the top from his knuckles downwards. “I am not used to someone being so…open about such things. It is not that I dislike it…it is just…” Licorice listened intently, the way he spoke slowly, as if thinking carefully about his words.

“...overwhelming?” Licorice offered. Choco nodded, sighing softly.

“Very…I..I adore your directness and I do not wish for you to change the way you speak to me…I just may not be able to reciprocate as whole heartedly as I'd like to.” He explained quietly. He sounded…embarrassed almost, and it was such an odd thing to hear from the other. “...I am sorry, I do not have much experience with courting.” He whispered. Licorice burst into laughter, a stuttering breath sound as he toppled over onto the bed.

“Courting? C-choco, what..” He stammered between breaths before rolling onto his back, absolutely losing himself.

“What?” Choco asked, annoyed. It only served to make Licorice laugh harder.

“Courting?! What kind of…’Hear ye, hear ye!’ ” He cried, his arms wrapping around his stomach. His throat hurt from how hard he was laughing. He rolled onto his side and was promptly shoved to the other by Choco, gently of course. “ ‘I bring news, bless thine ears with my word!’ “ He rambled between gasping breaths.
“I am getting sick of you.” Choco mumbled, a chuckle giving away his lack of true anger.

“Oh, I’m so sorry…Please forgive me, I fear it might be too late for me to return your dowry!” Licorice wailed, tears brimming at his eyes. He heard a raspy laugh from Choco which made his heart beat out of rhythm. “Oh it hurts…” He whined quietly, catching his breath. “ You…If you want to say it like that it’s fine! I’m just going to make fun of you every time you do it.”

“I have the sinking feeling that regardless of how I say it, you are going to cling to that until your last dying breath.” Choco mumbled, making Licorice giggle as he sat up and flopped into his partner's lap, still trying to get rid of his laughter.

“Oh definitely, right there with the voice crack story.” Licorice mused, starting to laugh again as Choco’s head fell back against the wall, a loud groan sounding from him.

“As I was saying.” Choco said firmly, head returning to look back down as he lifted a hand, hesitating for a moment before caressing Licorice’s face. The hesitation made Licorice’s heart ache a little. “I do not have experience…dating” Choco concluded.

“...so..none at all?” Licorice asked, looking up at him.

“Well, no, I have dated before…but it was a long time ago, and hardly anything serious.” Choco clarified. Licorice felt a twinge of jealousy and it felt disgusting. As if Choco could feel his demeanor shift, his hand on his cheek lifted into delicate fingertips, grazing along his cheekbone. “ Hardly as handsome as you, of course.” He murmured softly, Licorice sinking into the attention easily with a smile, being rewarded with his hand cupping his cheek again. “Do you have any prior experience?” He asked, voice quiet and gentle.

“Ah, n-no..I’ve never really dated…” He answered shyly. Licorice knew he was not likeable, not an enjoyable person or attractive enough for someone to ignore his sour personality. He still didn’t understand how Choco tolerated him so much. “I’ve fooled around before a few times, but nothing concrete…nothing that mattered I guess.” He rambled, feeling the need to explain himself. He partially expected Choco to be uncomfortable with the implications but he felt like the wind was knocked out of him as he saw a glint of interest in his sanguine eye, the way his eyebrow raised ever so slightly. It was so incredibly small but Licorice knew he had seen it. It was his turn to blush now, face flushed and searing.

“That is fine.” Choco murmured, each brush of his thumb against his cheek muddling Licorice’s mind. “...I love you too, Licorice, I apologize for taking some time to say it back.” His voice was soft, like the finest feather pillows or most comfortable candlelight, much like the candlelight that danced along the walls of his bedroom now as the sunlight bled away into the darkness of night. It felt so normal, Choco here in his room, most likely staying the night, as if they had never spent a day any other way. Talking the hours away and simply finding some semblance of comfort in each other's presence.

“You can show me you’re sorry by laying down with me…you need to rest.” Licorice offered, moving his own hand up to cup Choco’s face. He leaned into it this time, turning his head to press a kiss to the palm of his hand.

“I suppose I can do such a thing.” Choco mumbled, Licorice sitting up and the two moving to their normal sleeping arrangements, Choco on his good side and Licorice facing him on his side as well, one bony arm around Choco’s broad shoulders while the other guides a large thigh to hike up over his bony hip, their bodies fitting together perfectly. Choco pressed a kiss to his lips, gently, nothing like what overcame him the previous day, and the memory alone made Licorice uneasy all over again. He coaxed Choco into sleep easily and his nerves soothed themselves momentarily as he felt his lover's gentle breathing against his throat. Licorice took longer to fall asleep and when he did it was not remotely enjoyable. The necromancer could not stop thinking about the curse. A pit formed in his stomach, the familiar sinking feeling when he knew he was on the track to fail, which was admittedly often.

Depending on the severity it could be affecting Dark Choco in a multitude of ways. Cursed objects were seldom fun little trinkets, and most of the time, at least in his understanding, a cursed weapon was never something to toy with. He could feel his worries gnawing at his insides until they consumed him whole. After hours of laying in place unable to catch a moment of relaxation, he wriggled his way out of his lover’s arms, careful not to wake him as he slid out of bed. His knees settled on the hardwood floor beside his mattress and his bony hands felt around until he could get ahold of his leather tome and pen. He rose to his feet, some bones cracking along the way much to his disdain, and he silently skulked off to his separate study, closing the door behind himself. It was dark, this room not having any magical lighting implements purely because he usually didn’t come in here unless it was for larger spells that required physical space for casting, or somewhere to study away from Choco Werehound Brute’s disruptive snoring. He turned on an oil lamp on his desk, settling down in his chair and laying out his tome and opening it. He sat still, rolling his shoulders as he tried to coax himself into starting his notes.

His leg bounced wildly in an attempt to try and rid himself of some of the ever heavy weight of his own fears. When it became overwhelming he leaned back in his chair, trying to steady his breathing. It took some time, Licorice admittedly not being well practiced at it, but eventually he did feel the thick inky dredges of unease melt away. The residue still remained, clinging to his bones as if they were meant to be fused into him. Licorice shook it off, at least forced himself to, sitting back up and hunching over his desk as he began scribbling in the tome. He was studious in nature, like most magically inclined folk. The appetite for knowledge was insatiable and this new discovery had certainly won him over. He got up briefly, sneaking back into the main part of his room to collect any novels or books he owned relating to curses and enchanted artifacts alike. It took three whole trips to bring them all in his isolated study, stacks of books and papers that reached his hip now flooding the room. He was seated at his desk for a while before moving to the floor, having to throw a rug down over his most recent summoning circle to avoid getting the chalk on himself. Once settled down he began reading and writing notes in tandem, hunched over. He annotated, underlined, reread, cross referenced, everything he could think to do. It still netted him little results. Different sources began conflicting with each other, some authors directly referencing one another's work in a diminutive fashion. While it was mildly entertaining to read the well worded arguments and jabs, it ultimately was nothing. It was frustrating. Licorice was struggling to make any sort of progress, and it felt agonizing being so useless. He took in a shaky breath, blinking away tears and sleep as he opened yet another folder of assorted research papers he collected some time ago.

He was not a religious man in any sense, logically finding it silly to seek favors from something so much larger and greater than himself, but he understood it at this moment. Anything, any sort of information or clarity, he silently begged for anything a higher power could give him. Promising to become a devout believer if he could just get anything.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Licorice didn’t realize he had thrown the papers across the room until the sound of the folder hitting the wall made him aware, sheets of written research, pointless, droning, useless research swishing and dancing their way to the floor like they were taunting him. He slammed his hands on the floor, crumpling in on himself as his frail body was racked with sobs. He fought to keep himself quiet, not wishing for Choco to wake up and see him in such a humiliating state. It took all his willpower to not rip his own hair out, substituting it for rocking back and forth in pure frustration. The dark arts were hard to master for a reason, that being that there were hardly any actual recorded sources of information. Anyone who mastered something so taboo would never write it down for others to find, and while Licorice understood and admired the dedication to the ancient craft it was currently driving him up the walls. He stopped his quiet sobbing when he heard a soft scratching sound against his door. The last thing he wanted was someone to see him like this, failing again. Each tumble backwards felt excruciating and never ending. He stayed crumpled on the floor, pulling his hood up and making himself as small as possible as the scratching persisted. It stopped after a few moments, Licorice about to let out a sigh when he heard the door handle being fiddled with. After a bit of a struggle the door opened slightly, Licorice not looking to see who entered. He heard little hard claws against the wood floor, the door being nudged shut before those pawsteps quickened over to him, Bat-Cat mewling quietly as it rubbed against his side.

“M-meowster?” It huffed, nudging him with its skeletal head. Licorice had stopped shaking as he listened to the rattling purrs of his familiar.

“...I’m sorry…I..I can’t even..” Licorice’s voice broke painfully as he failed to even formulate a sentence. His patheticness felt disgusting, like he was a walking blight infecting his surroundings, making them disgusting. After a harder headbutt against his arm he finally sat up, his eyes puffy and irritated from the sting of his bitter tears. The fabric of his robes in his lap were stained as well, further evidence that he had caved in on himself like he always would, he didn’t know how to handle it any other way. Bat-Cat carefully crawled into his lap, stretching its paws out to knead his arm, purring loudly. “I don’t know why I try.” He admitted in a whisper, breath stuttering.

“What happened, Meowster?” Bat-Cat chirped, leaning back as Licorice used a hand to pet it.

“The same thing that always happens…I think I can handle something and not only can I not, I have to make the biggest spectacle of myself in the process…” Licorice whispered bitterly. Bat-Cat gave him a moment, used to this sort of misery from the necromancer. “I…I told Choco..” He cleared his throat, his heart sinking as he realized the lack of a proper name. “I promised Dark Choco Cookie that I would help him get rid of his sword…” Bat-Cat looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I-it…are mew sure it’s-”

“God it reeks with it. It’s full of Dark Magic, I could almost taste it.” Licorice answered with disgust, covering his mouth to muffle a sob. “And I..I don’t even know if I can do anything!” He said quietly, voice cracking. “ It-It feels so…It feels old like it’s been around longer than anything else, I can't even find information on what it could be.” He rambled, his breathing becoming stuttered as Bat-Cat sat up to nuzzle against his nose. “I can’t…I can’t help him, I can’t save him.” He cried quietly, pulling the creature into a tight hug, sobbing against it. He fell apart again and it was so painful the second time around, his head aching from his useless crying and his lungs burning as he failed to breathe steadily. Bat-Cat let itself be held, continuing to purr and knead at his shoulder. It felt like an eternity, it always did when he was inconsolable like this. His sense of time was good until it came to his misery, not having the mental fortitude to do anything other than sink into it and smother himself with the weight of his inadequacy. It was crushing and impossible to avoid.

Bat-cat continued to purr and knead its master’s arm. It knew how to comfort him, his little meltdowns such as this were at least a twice or three times a month occurrence. Licorice could not recall a time when Bat-cat did not cheer him on or support every whim of his, no matter how stupid or flimsy. Even when he first made Bat-cat, it was like a bond was formed almost instantly. He lifted his head to look at his familiar, the skeletal creature leaning up and nuzzling against his nose firmly, pulling a giggle from the necromancer.

It felt like an eternity since that day…since Bat-cat was created. The memory was foggy but Licorice was able to dredge it up with some effort, having to ignore the throbbing in his skull from his crying. It was autumn, well, whatever sort of ‘autumn’ they received in the Dark Cacao Kingdom. Licorice couldn’t recall how old he was, perhaps late teens early twenties, and goodness did that make him feel old. He had been wandering about in the outskirts of the Licorice tribe after an argument with his parents, a common occurrence. The desire to have purpose was what had him digging through old animal carcasses and rooting around for ingredients, ingredients to make life. His finds were meager, having to mix and match bones to create a frame. The skull of what he believed to be an unfortunate pet cat that had succumbed to the elements or had run away and met its end, he found it out by a riverbank, the rest of its bones nearby but its lower half frozen into the water, the ice doing its work to keep what remained preserved in some sort of sick display. He was able to collect the ribcage as well, accidentally breaking off a rib or two in the process. The rest he found along paths he usually walked through the edge of the forest, tall choco cone spruce trees towering above and slowly thickening as he waded his way through. The rest of the bones he discovered by a cave entrance, almost passing out with fear when he tried to approach it. The bones he managed to scrounge up were…he had no clue honestly, a random assortment of little pieces of lives long passed that he collected to reanimate into something new.

Licorice could remember how frustrating it was trying to learn Necromancy at first. It fell under the Dark Magic umbrella so there was next to no information for him to study. It took months for him to even come up with a way to put Bat-cat together, studying other summoning circles he knew of to try and take what he could to create what he needed. He gathered materials, studied and planned, determined to make something, anything.

Bat-cat was created in the dead of night, the thick snow creating a deafening aura around him. He had no information to work off of, no guidance, and no understanding of what he was doing, and yet…when he cleared the snow, using a dagger and a stone to crudely carve his summoning circle into the frozen ground, spread the ingredients and laid out the bones along with a vial of his own blood to bind them together indefinitely, when he knelt and planted his hands on the ground in front of the circle and began his incantation, rather clumsily, it took a moment before he felt it. Like a lock clicking into place, his magicka draining through his arms and the palms of his hands, igniting the symbols and the circle itself with purple light and the smell of rot, the bones began connecting as if threaded together with glowing light, a black inky mixture oozing up out of the inner circle, mixing with the ingredients and filling in the gaps where needed. It was…arguably disturbing to look at. A mess of mismatched bones creating…divine light, he didn’t even know what. It didn’t move for a few minutes, the vial of blood submerged where a heart could be placed. Licorice was ready to give up when he heard cracking, looking up and seeing the vial slowly cracking and the blood boiling, breaking with a muffled shatter. The blood burned bright lilac, the creature's empty eye sockets coming to life with two glowing pupils and a little impish tail being spawned as well.

Licorice recalled shakily scooping up the amalgamation and cradling it, tears in his eyes as it twitched and sputtered to life in his arms. It was the first time he could remember feeling it, the draw towards the Dark Arts, old ancient knowledge that tended to have heavy consequences, lethal even, if done incorrectly or carelessly. He found a comfort in it, trying to use something so taboo for something so pure and well meaning. Licorice’s tribe was not as accepting of his new creation. The Licorice tribe was one of the only ones in the Dark Cacao Kingdom to practice more taboo magic and spells, which was fine. Not everything unknown was to be feared and it was that mindset that kept his ancestors one step ahead of the Giant Icing Ridge’s perils and disasters and the Licorice ocean itself. But reanimation…Necromancy…It was not…

Licorice could still hear his mother’s words clear as day in his head. She called him a blight, a curse upon the tribe and their entire bloodline. He was hurt of course, he couldn’t understand why creating life would be so disgusting to others…sure it was a bit unorthodox, a bit gross and odd, but…well he was as well, wasn’t he?

Licorice did not realize he had begun crying again until a firm nuzzle against his cheek dragged him out of his reminiscing. When he looked down at Bat-cat he felt a glimmer of pride, rubbing it’s skull as if petting it affectionately. As he calmed down his mind began working again, thinking. Much like when he created Bat-cat, he was working with next to nothing, or was he? Sure he didn’t have exact information about what he was looking for, but that does not mean he couldn’t create something new, use his resources to figure it out just as he had done all those years ago. His pale golden eyes widened, pushing Bat-cat off his lap and tripping over a small stack of books as he rushed over to his desk, frantically rooting around for a particular book. He felt energized, fixating on his new found ideas and willpower as he scrounged through tomes and research, piecing together and combining information to create a new method, a new plan. If there was no research then he would create it himself. He couldn’t consider himself a mage unless he poured his entire being into his research, into his knowledge, and the life of his beloved teetering on the line only served to fuel him more.

Time vanished from his mind as he lost himself completely, scribbling notes, drawing diagrams of possible summoning circles or incantations he could use, planning and plotting. He wrote lists of ingredients he would need, tonics that he could brew that might help with Choco’s symptoms or to aid in other plans of his. He worked and worked until his mind felt like it was melting, eyes burning and body feeling weak. Licorice used his hands planted firmly on the top of his messy desk to push himself upright, swaying slightly as his eyes burned from his own exhaustion. He could hear Bat-cat’s voice, the creature using its teeth to tug on Licorice’s sleeve as it guided him to a pile of pillows and cushions on the floor in the corner of the room, Licorice gracelessly flopping into them as he curled up, his overworked mind and body not putting up a fight as he drifted off to sleep, Bat-cat working on opening the door to leave the room. The last sound he heard was soft mewling and Choco murmuring something to the creature. His voice was quiet and Licorice had to strain to be cognizant enough to even comprehend it but it was like a reward from the divines themselves, his lover’s sleepy and gruff words mixed with a subtle surprise, no doubt not expecting his familiar to be waking him. It made the ache of his muscles and bones, his empty stomach and dry throat, feel inconsequential compared to the reward. Licorice’s body finally allowed him to rest, to close his eyes and drift into sleep, the ever pleasant warmth of love blooming between his ribs and around his very heart.