Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Good lies took time to write. Good ruses were an art form. This was something Shadow Milk Cookie knew well. Really good lies were fueled by just enough truth to be believable, just one drop of truth in an ocean of deceit. Shadow Milk stood before a ruined building on the outskirts of the Vanilla kingdom, pacing back and forth. This had to work. That old fool was too kind for his own good—he wouldn’t be able to resist a poor, injured thing at his door, no matter who it was. Really, this was going to be far too easy.

“Are you quite sure about this??” Black Sapphire Cookie bore a characteristically puzzled face, pulling a deep frown. “This seems… quite unnecessary.”

“In case you forget,” Shadow Milk sneered, “The thief that currently has his mitts on my soul jam is a healer. A disguise won’t fool him, he’ll be able to see right through it. A good lie, my faithful minion, requires juuuuust enough truth to be convincing.”

“Right.” The microphone in Black Sapphire’s hands spun around. In his breast pocket, a tarot card holding a very perturbed Candy Apple Cookie began to shake furiously. “Well, you do know best. If you think this will convince him… who am I to question you?” The tarot Candy Apple attempted to protest this plan again, and Black Sapphire turned the card around. He leveled his microphone at Shadow Milk and took a deep breath in, drawing up a very careful spell.

“I’m waaaaiting!” Shadow Milk held his arms out.

The spell that hit him was… perhaps stronger than Black Sapphire had intended. Static closed in on his vision, and a loud ringing began in his ears. The wall he had slammed into was cracked, and his dough was bruised. This was even better than he could have expected. A small piece of marble from the wall fell as he pushed himself onto his knees, and it cut a line through his cheek. Jam stained his hand when he touched the injury gingerly. Just how deep had that cut him??

“Master Shadow Milk Cookie!” Candy Apple Cookie, now escaped from her tarot card time out, rushed to his side, hyperventilating. She was reaching for his face, trying to touch his scrape and see just how bad it was.

“I’m sorry,” Black Sapphire was saying, rushing to catch her. “I tried to hold her back.”

“Are you ok? Are you hurt very bad?” She was shaking—with rage? Or excitement over a new plan? It was hard to tell.

“Calm down,” Shadow Milk replied. “I asked him to attack me, remember?” He pushed her away with a palm on her forehead. She was good at what she did, honestly, but witches, she was… overbearing. “All part of the show!” That placated her for the time being. It would not be long before she began fretting again.

“You always do have good plans,” she conceded. “I could have done that, if you wanted, you know.” Her anger changed targets, and Black Sapphire glowered at her.

“But he didn’t ask you, did he?”

“Children, children.” Shadow Milk pushed himself off the ground completely and stepped between them. “Look, alright. If he needs more convincing, you can attack me next time.” There wouldn’t be a next time. Pure Vanilla was gullible. This would be more than enough to convince him. Still, the promise at a chance to be helpful sent Candy Apple running in circles, squealing. Black Sapphire brushed off his jacket and nodded. He needed less assurances to do his work well. They both looked up to him, that much was more than clear, but Black Sapphire Cookie was less… clingy. Slightly. Shadow Milk gave him an approving nod.

“Will you go now?” Black Sapphire asked.

“Well, I can’t go once it’s healed, can I?” Shadow Milk smiled, showing all of his teeth. “Both of you, make new identities. I need allies in the Vanilla kingdom. Can’t have a show without a couple of stagehands, can you?” He rolled his shoulders, feeling the ache of being thrown into a wall. This body constantly ached—perhaps some part of his dough aware that it was only a vessel. At times, he felt that his body was attempting to force him out of it. This pain, however, was intentional. He would need to look the part to act the part. His lackeys nodded, quick to make themselves scarce. Their efficiency was appreciated.

With that taken care of, he picked up a cloak he had set aside, wrapped it around his shoulders, and made his way towards the Vanilla kingdom.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

He moved through the streets of the Vanilla kingdom cautiously, sticking to the shadows and avoiding eye contact. A few times, someone on a sidewalk attempted to get his attention, trying to ask if he was okay. He brushed them off each time. There was only one cookie he was interested in seeing. The cloak around his shoulders covered his soul jam enough to keep any onlookers from getting suspicious, but he still chose to present as himself. He had an arsenal of aliases in his mind, each ready to present themselves, each as easy to slip into as a new coat. It would have been easy to show up as a stranger—perhaps a young woman, seeking shelter, perhaps an old adventurer, offering aid, perhaps a wizard, offering knowledge. So many options, and he was arriving as himself. Really, Pure Vanilla should be offended. A ruse with no illusions, no tricks, just a dirty cloak and a scar dragging across his face? It was hardly his best work, but it would do.

Had the castle always been so… ostentatious? Shadow Milk scoffed. Pure Vanilla was all honesty and truth and humility, but he lived in a castle that could house a small village. It was ridiculous. His other half had far more of an ego than he let on. This was going to be a piece of cake. Like taking candy from a baby. His mask threatened to crack, but he took a deep breath and held it back. He flexed his hands to keep himself grounded in the moment. He was not a fearsome beast, here to wreak havoc and chaos. He was a poor, broken cookie, in need of help and somewhere to stay. He was lonely, and all he wanted was someone to see him. A friend who had promised he would be there. There, that was a good lie. He knocked on the door.

“Hello?” Came a muffled reply from inside. Of course Pure Vanilla Cookie answered his own door. He might as well have been trying to get himself assassinated. Shadow Milk resisted the urge to sneer, instead shaping his face into one of fear. “Hello, who is it?” The doors slowly creaked open. “I don’t believe I’m expecting guests...”

Really, a voice inside him murmured. Not even waiting for an answer. He sort of deserves this. Shadow Milk fought back another laugh at that.

“I’m rather busy at the moment, so I-” Pure Vanilla’s voice wavered with recognition. “Shadow Milk Cookie?” He stepped forward, a smile creeping onto his face. Gullible fool. “You- I thought-” He composed himself. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Shadow Milk let a chill creep over him. Trembles wracked his shoulders, and his head tilted just enough for the wound on his cheek to be visible. He gripped his cloak tightly.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he said softly.

“You’re injured,” Pure Vanilla whispered. “Goodness. What on Earthbread happened to you?” He reached out a hand to assess Shadow Milk’s injuries. The thought of letting that thief touch his face burned inside of him, but it was all for the sake of a ruse. He approached.

“After the spire fell… My minions-” How heavy handed was too heavy handed? “They turned on me. Those brats. I couldn’t access my magic anymore, and they attacked me.” There, a good balance. It wouldn’t be believable if he was too nice. “I didn’t know where else to go,” he repeated.

“You lost your magic?” Pure Vanilla questioned. Shadow Milk only inclined his head. “Poor thing. You must be so frightened.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

“Come inside,” he said. “I’ll assess your injuries and see what I can do.” For a moment, Pure Vanilla’s gaze trailed downward, focusing on Shadow Milk’s soul jam. Greedy thief. Was he going to go two for two and take both? Arrogant fool. Shadow Milk followed him, masking his pride in a lie well told by whimpering pathetically and touching his wounded face.

It was laughable, really, how easy it was. He thought he would need to do more convincing, more cajoling, more pleading, but his ruse was accepted immediately. Though he was thoroughly scrutinized, he saw no doubt on his new savior’s face. Pure Vanilla cookie brought him into a medical bay with no further questions, gesturing for him to sit and let the healer examine him. Black Sapphire had done his job well. He had to commend the effort. By now, he was certain both Black Sapphire and Candy Apple Cookie were done assuming new identities and were hidden somewhere in the Vanilla kingdom. He would have to find them once a level of trust was established.

“You aren’t too badly injured,” Pure Vanilla commented, squeezing Shadow Milk’s wrist. A gentle glow emanated from his hands. His face itched where the healer had gently closed the wound. “Perhaps they couldn’t bring themselves to do too much damage.” Sort of an odd thing to say, he thought.

“Or they’re just weak,” Shadow Milk replied. Pure Vanilla raised an eyebrow. Laying it on too thick, then. “Don’t give me that look, Nilly, I have a part to play! They expect me to be the mean, strict mentor, I can’t start praising their efforts now!” Good, bring it back around. It’s all part of the show.

Pure Vanilla cookie declined to respond. “You should be alright for now,” he said. “Tomorrow, when you’re more rested, I can examine your soul jam and see if I can figure out what happened to your magic.” He paused, and then scratched the back of his neck, a blush rising to his face.

“Bit presumptuous,” Shadow Milk muttered.

“If you’re staying, that is,” Pure Vanilla replied. Now that was interesting. The great hero, the paragon of truth, flustered​?

You can use that against him.

“Can I?” He let his voice crack, just a bit. Pure Vanilla thought he was sad and lonely, so let him think it. “I don’t know where else to go.”

“Of course.” His voice was sweet as honey. “There is always room here for friends.” Ugh. There he went again with the whole friends bit. He would drop that quickly when he saw that Shadow Milk was only using him.

Patience. Yes. All schemes took time.

“If you follow me,” Pure Vanilla was saying, “I can take you to your room.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The room Pure Vanilla Cookie set aside for him was… serviceable. The curtains were white and gold, and bright sunlight pushed through them. When he flopped onto the bed, he sunk into it, like sitting on a cloud. He had expected… less hospitable treatment. A cot in a small guest room, or a bed in a prison cell. After the years he had spent confined in an empty void, the luxury of soft, downy blankets felt like a dream. He almost didn’t want it to end. Friendship… Pure Vanilla had offered him friendship. A chance to not be lonely. What an interesting proposal.

Get your head on straight. Anytime he considered giving in, his internal compass rose to remind him that it wasn’t safe. He was glad to have an inner voice looking out for him. This is a pretty cage, but it is still just another cage. And he was not lonely. Isolation suited him.

Shadow Milk stood and walked over to the window. Though there were no prying eyes in here… he knew from experience that privacy was often a sweet lie of its own. It wasn’t wise to use his magic here, where his host knew he would be. Outside, it was warm, and the window was hot to the touch. A bluebird landed on the flower box and pecked at the lilies planted there for a few moments before chirping and flying away. He smiled. Free little thing. Then, something in his periphery began to glow. It prickled against his hands, where they rested on the windowsill.

Runes. Magical runes. Some kind of spell had been cast over the window. Of course. He raced over to the door, urgency carrying him. There! On the door frame, the same runes, glowing a soft gold. Over the course of the night, while he pretended to sleep, he studied them. It was some sort of… rudimentary alarm system. His comings and goings would all be recorded, it seemed. A wise precaution- but still. He couldn’t give too much credit. The fact that he had been let in at all showed how foolish Pure Vanilla was. He spent the rest of the night examining the room and looking for ways to escape unnoticed. It took some doing, but he found a small hole in the wall that allowed him access to the hall outside his room. This hallway had no spells over it, he made sure of that. Good, then. Let Pure Vanilla believe he had a little bird trapped in a cage, and play the part of the poor sickly beast in need of healing. See how well that went.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Come morning, and Pure Vanilla Cookie was knocking at his new pet’s door. Shadow Milk, for his part, had settled into the bed and done his best to feign sleep. The large bed was infuriatingly comfortable. He almost thought he could doze off here and let sleep carry him away. The sheets smelled faintly of vanilla, and the pillows were dangerously soft and plush. When the door swung upon, he yawned lazily and stretched, feeling his joints pop with a pain that was slightly satisfying.

“I hope I am not intruding,” Pure Vanilla said. He was holding a tray in one hand. “I brought food. I thought you may still be too injured to get out of bed.” Shadow Milk found himself scanning his face, looking for any indication of fear or anxiety. All he found there was softness, a slight smile that creased the corners of Pure Vanilla’s eyes, which twinkled merrily. He was… genuinely happy to see him. Oh, now that was just wrong on so many levels. He tried not to sneer. Pure Vanilla held his stare for a long time. “Is something bothering you?”

“Oh, nothing.” Shadow Milk sat up. “Just looking at how your hair catches the sun.” There, that should shut him up. Something about honey and catching flies.

“Ah.” Pure Vanilla cleared his throat. “Thank you, but I would appreciate sincerity if you feel you owe me any compliments.”

Too much, his internal compass chided him. He bit back a retort. Blithely, he leaned forward, examining the food that now rested on the bed. Admittedly, the Vanilla kingdom knew how to feed their guests. Maybe Pure Vanilla had some uses beyond keeping Shadow Milk’s soul jam safe until he could steal it back.

“Is your room comfortable?” Ever the diligent host.

“It’s fine. But your decoration skills could use some work, Nills.” Pure Vanilla did not rise to that provocation.

“Once you’ve eaten,” the bed creaked as Pure Vanilla sat next to him, “we can talk about your magic.” Shadow Milk noticed that he had only brought one plate, and raised his eyebrows. He had no need to eat, but it was all in the interest of keeping up appearances, so he took a few bites of the scone that was presented to him. It was buttery sweet, topped with a poppy seed glaze. There was a slight taste of lemon on his lips. Lucky him, getting to be spoiled while he waited for the right time to strike.

“Well, say what you will about the Vanilla kingdom, but you certainly know how to feed your guests.” He brushed crumbs away from his face. “You should try this.”

“What would you say about the Vanilla kingdom?” There he went again, focusing on the wrong part of what Shadow Milk was saying. This ruse might take more effort than at first he thought, if Pure Vanilla kept pushing his buttons like that. Stupid king.

“That wasn’t the point, Nilly.” He gestured at the other half of the scone. “Try some! Is the great king too good for simple pleasures?”

“I will remind you that I abdicated the throne,” Pure Vanilla retorted. Was that… frustration? Oh, goodie. But no, as soon as it had appeared, it was gone. Again, he had not answered the question directly. After a moment, he sighed. “But, thank you. It is… sweet of you to inquire after my health.” He took the rest of the scone and took a small bite. The expression on his face when the sweetness hit him made Shadow Milk’s jam boil. He was so serene, so genuinely delighted. As he ate, he left a crumb on the side of his face, and Shadow Milk felt a strange urge to reach out and brush it aside.

That would be laying it on too thick. Why would you do that?

“You see what I mean,” Shadow Milk said. A laugh forced its way into his voice unbidden. That needed to be silenced quickly. “I would never lie to you.”

“Naturally,” Pure Vanilla replied. “Only to everyone else.” He wanted to laugh, so badly. Stupid king. Stupid fool. Banter? He would not let down his walls enough for that. “Are you feeling well enough to discuss your… missing magic?”

“Give a lady time to wake up, goodness! Don’t you know it’s rude to rush your guests out the door too quickly?” It was important at all times to play up his tone. The theatrics hid any imperfections in the lie. The more melodramatic he was, the harder it was to read through the lines. “But yes, yes, fine. Let’s figure this out. You love a mystery, don’t you?” He had thought this part through. If asked, he believed his magic still existed, but he did not have access to it. It was possible Pure Vanilla would still be able to sense the power that coursed through him, and it would be foolhardy not to account for that. He was practically made of magic, after all.

“Are you a lady today?”

“Do you listen to the first parts of the things I say, and then just sleep through the rest?” Another laugh forced its way into his voice. Ridiculous.

“No,” Pure Vanilla replied. “I just respond to the parts that raise the most questions.” What an annoyingly perfect answer. Of course he did. He always sought the truth, didn’t he? Perhaps Shadow Milk needed to be more vague. That would raise fewer questions.

You’re coming on a little too strong. Too friendly. It was true. Come on too strong and the lie would unravel itself. Be too cold, and the strong antagonism he felt would bear its ugly teeth. For a good lie, it’s important to find a middle ground.

“Of course you do.” It came out a bit like a snarl.

Good. That was biting. Keep that up. Shadow Milk preened. Sure, it was just his own internal monologue, but it felt nice to be appreciated. Even if it was only self-confidence.

“Of course I do,” Pure Vanilla repeated. He took a deep breath in. “Well then!” A warm smile came over his face. “Shall we adjourn to the medical wing?”

“Lead the way, oh great king.” He took some joy in watching Pure Vanilla resist the urge to correct him again. This was going to be fun.

This examination went by slower than the assessment of his physical injuries. That had been quick, procedural. A hand over his injuries, a warm light, and then good as new. When examining his missing “magic,” Pure Vanilla Cookie took his time, methodical and studious. Every couple moments, he took notes in a large book which he kept away from Shadow Milk’s eyes. His hands were gently glowing, and they hovered just an inch away from Shadow Milk’s skin, scanning for the cause of this new malady.

“Are you often in pain, Shadow Milk Cookie?” He rested his hands on Shadow Milk’s shoulders.

“Wha-?”

“The injuries that your followers inflicted are healing well, but… I still sense pain in your dough.” His gaze was so gentle, so insistent. Sickening. If Pure Vanilla had not stolen his soul jam, perhaps he would not be in pain.

“Well, that comes with the territory,” he muttered. “This isn’t my original body, Nilly, you should know that. I thought you paid more attention!” Pure Vanilla only pinned him with his gaze. “I don’t think my soul is too jazzed about being in the wrong body,” he snorted.

“Well… perhaps… perhaps that is contributing to your loss of magic?” This could not possibly be going better. Pure Vanilla was feeding his ruse for him, and he had to do none of the work. He was buying this far too easily. Hook, line, and sinker. There was only one slight problem.

Pure Vanilla was having way too much fun.

At any given moment during his examination, he found an excuse to touch Shadow Milk’s shoulder, or hold his wrist to take his pulse, or to brush a hand against his face. In order to examine his soul jam, he had to press one hand to Shadow Milk’s chest to stabilize himself, and Shadow Milk felt his jam boiling at that. The nerve. The audacity. The-

He noticed how warm Pure Vanilla Cookie’s hands were as they touched his neck, pressing down gently. A soft voice in his ear asked if any of this was causing him any pain. Only emotional pain, he thought. The only thing sore right now was his pride. Pure Vanilla paused his ministrations and stepped back, appraising his patient.

“You are not feverish,” he said mildly. “Nor are your tremors particularly bad.” He held up a finger in front of Shadow Milk’s face and tried to move it side to side to test his perception. When Shadow Milk did not look at him, he gently grabbed his chin and tilted it forward. “I need you to look at me if you want my help,” he murmured, deep in thought. Shadow Milk felt heat rise to his face in anger. Who was he to do something like that? Why did he think he had the right​??

Obediently, he followed Pure Vanilla’s finger with his eyes.

“I’m afraid I don’t have answers,” Pure Vanilla concluded. “I cannot tell what has happened to your magic. Perhaps when the spire fell it took some of your power with it, or perhaps your new body is not as strong as you believed it to be.”

“That-” he started to reply that that must be it, but that was far too agreeable. Say “yes, and-” too many times, and the gambit becomes obvious. “That is possible. Of course, your access to knowledge is nothing compared to what mine used to be, but you have your nose in a book enough to be right some of the time. Don’t let it go to your head!”

“You are more than welcome to stay here until you… recover,” Pure Vanilla replied, not rising to his insults. Pushover. “I would ask that you refrain from insulting my intelligence. If you want my help, that is. If you wish to remain as enemies, feel free to be as carefree with your language as you wish. I will respond in kind.”

“Ohhh, I wouldn’t be so bold if I were you, silly Vanilly. If I had my power back-”

But you do, he reminded himself. Don’t let your own lie cloud your judgment.

“Mm.” That was all the response he got. “So… will you be staying, or going?” He sounded… hopeful? Genuinely, sincerely, hopeful. What a fool.

“Ugh, fine, fine! You’ve won me over with your amaaazing hosting abilities.” Pure Vanilla’s smile faltered. “No, really, you’ve outdone yourself. I’ve been to parties, but this one really takes the cake.”

“I’ll tell the staff to keep your room clean.” Pure Vanilla sighed.

Chapter Text

The next morning of his stay, Pure Vanilla had brought a deck of tarot cards. With his eyebrows raised and a slight smile on his face, he posed a challenge:

“Put me in the cards, like you did at the spire.” Shadow Milk sighed and took the cards from him. Shuffling by hand was so tedious, and he had not the skill to make a show of it. Really, doing anything by hand was tedious. Did Pure Vanilla intend to wear him down through sheer boredom? He threw his hands up in the air. Pure Vanilla tsked and set the cards aside. “I am sorry. Since I am here, may I stay while you eat breakfast?”

“I’m not going to finish all of it, you brought me a feast.” Food was… fine, but he did not need to eat, and he was hardly going to finish the entire spread. “Take whatever you want.” Pure Vanilla wrinkled his nose, but he accepted the offer. When they had eaten, something passed over his other half’s face that he was almost inclined to call mischief. The crooked smile and glimmering eyes were a look he had not seen since their time in the spire.

“While I have you here, and while the cards are still out, would you play a game or two with me? I have somewhere I must be by noon, but there’s a few hours yet, and I would much rather pass the time doing something than pacing.” Destroying a thief at cards… it wasn’t the worst way one could pass a morning. It was certainly better than sitting in bed and wondering how best to play the part of a sickly, innocent creature that needed help. A small victory over Pure Vanilla Cookie was still a victory, and one he would savor thoroughly.

“It’s not like I have anywhere more interesting to be,” he replied, all teeth and smiles.

He was not expecting Pure Vanilla to so thoroughly trounce him, every single round. Maybe he had let him win the first round, all in the name of building trust, but after that, he had really been trying. Eons of tricks at his disposal, but he was no match for Pure Vanilla’s disarming smile and unexpected gift for sleight of hand. It was not that his other half was particularly good at cards that took him by surprise. He knew full well how little else there was to do when traveling, and he expected there had been many opportunities for play when he was still traveling among friends. No, what shocked him was how good the great paragon of truth was at cheating.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The third morning, Pure Vanilla returned, this time with a crystal ball.

“Can you see anything?” He questioned. “Anything at all.” He held it out in shaking hands.

“I can’t see anything on an empty stomach,” Shadow Milk complained. “Can’t a cookie eat his breakfast before obeying the whims of clingy healers?”

Pure Vanilla chuckled softly, but obliged his request, selecting a pastry from the tray.

To what end are you doing this? His inner voice questioned. Would it not be better if he were weakened? Yes, probably. It would certainly be easier to regain what belonged to him if the thief who possessed it was not at full capacity. However… it would be less fun. That was all. It was simple. There was no point in taking it without some sort of game, and he was not in the business of making his games too easy.

When they had both eaten, and Pure Vanilla had more color to his face, he took the crystal ball and held it up to his face. Shadow Milk concentrated, really focused in on it, and did absolutely nothing. Magic thrummed under his skin, and his fingers itched, twitching to do something, to make a show out of this. He stifled the urge. It was just a rock. He had no magic, and he was little more than a failed experiment for his host. Pure Vanilla gave him a sympathetic look and set the crystal aside.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The fourth morning, Pure Vanilla brought nothing but the food. There were two plates on the tray. “I thought we might go elsewhere to test your healing,” he said. “Do you have any complaints if we visit the garden?”

Shadow Milk could think of no reason to argue, so he went along with it. The day was cool, and the sun was bright, and Pure Vanilla had brought him to a clearing in the garden, surrounded by lilies.

“Can you fly? I know you can normally float. Have you lost that as well?”

This was humiliating. Shadow Milk made a good attempt, really reaching for the stars and screwing up his face in a look of concentration. It was not hard to present a farce of effort. At his continued failure, Pure Vanilla gave him another sympathetic look. His eyes were shining, his shoulders trembling, a hand was pressed over his mouth, and... Were those tears in the corners of his eyes? Goodness. The fool really, really cared about this. This was going even better than expected. He returned to Pure Vanilla’s side and gingerly patted his shoulder.

“I’m sure I’ll get it one of those times,” he said, cringing. Sympathy tasted like bitter medicine.

“I know you are trying your best. But… Since we are here,” Pure Vanilla said, “will you walk the gardens with me? I must tend to the flowers. Perhaps you could tell me more about where you have been, and how it was you managed to travel here.” Had he been presenting himself at his full power, Shadow Milk would not have stooped to that. However, it was in his best interest to play up the sad little puppy act, so he trailed behind Pure Vanilla and regaled him with stories of people he had met on his journey to the Vanilla kingdom. They had stolen a ship from the laboratory where his body was created, it had not been a particular challenge. He and his subjects had sailed to Crispia, made landfall, and assumed new identities. They had betrayed him when he revealed that his magic was gone. Some of it was true, maybe even most of it, and he felt unappreciated. There was no one to praise him for telling the truth.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The fifth day, Pure Vanilla had no pretense at all. He brought food, and swore to do everything he could for his charge, but it was clear the testing period was over. Instead, Pure Vanilla brought him to the library, suggesting that perhaps he could re-learn his magic. What a laugh. If he really had been some sickly thing needing help, there were not enough books on all of Earthbread to contain the sum total of knowledge he had once possessed. The sun would sooner explode and drown out the world than he would manage to re-learn everything he knew. Still, there was some benefit to these trips to the library. Much had changed about the world in between his imprisonment and the formation of his new body. Gathering new material was an important step in any lie.

This became his new routine. Each morning, Pure Vanilla Cookie brought two plates of food to his room, and they ate together, and he allowed his host and prison guard to regale him with stories of the work he had to do that day. He would spend his days in the library, learning what he could. When his work was finished, Pure Vanilla would join him, and they would read together, occasionally commenting on a particularly noteworthy passage. In the evenings, sometimes, they would walk the gardens together while Pure Vanilla tended to his precious flowers. His patience waned, but there was never quite the right moment to strike.

By night, he explored the castle as a shadow and found secret places to hide. Each morning, he slithered back into his bed before Pure Vanilla Cookie could catch on to his antics. He was learning more and more about his prey each and every day. He learned that Pure Vanilla Cookie’s vision was poor, but manageable. He learned that although he had abdicated his role as king, he still bore many of its burdens. He learned that Pure Vanilla Cookie frequently forgot to eat, though he would always graciously accept it if Shadow Milk offered something. That was odd, really. Accepting food from your enemy. The thought of poisoning it did enter his mind, but that was far too subtle for him. When he did finally take the soul jam, when all this sitting and waiting paid off, it was gonna be good.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It really should have been more difficult to manipulate him, but even Pure Vanilla’s friends seemed to believe Shadow Milk’s story. On one particular day, a few weeks in, the three young ones who had been with him in the spire came by the castle to check on affairs in the Vanilla kingdom, and Pure Vanilla eagerly brought Shadow Milk with him to meet them.

“I’ve informed them about your… condition,” Pure Vanilla whispered to him as they walked.

“Oh goodie. I always loved being the center of attention.” Shadow Milk bounced back and forth on his heels. How on Earthbread did cookies walk for this long? Sensing his distress, Pure Vanilla offered an arm for him to lean on. How chivalrous. He accepted it (it would look suspicious if he didn’t) and leaned on his companion’s side as they made their way out to the courtyard. The robes under his hand were soft, and Pure Vanilla’s presence at his side was…

He’s starting to trust you. This is good.

Yes, that was it. It felt good knowing how well his act was paying off. The poor sap wasn’t going to know what hit him when Shadow Milk finally revealed himself.

“You know, you’re free to explore the kingdom, if you’d like.” Softly, Pure Vanilla touched his hand. He wondered if Pure Vanilla was this touchy feely with all of his friends, or just the ones he was keeping as pets. “I want to help you regain your strength. Of course, if you find my palace more interesting than anything out there, you are welcome to stay here.” He seemed… oddly insistent. Shadow Milk would have expected Pure Vanilla to try and trap him, not urge him to leave.

“Do you normally take your enemies on a big parade when they’re defenseless?” Shadow Milk spat back, real genuine venom behind it. “Or am I just special?”

“I…” Pure Vanilla shrugged. “I thought you might want to make some friends in the kingdom, that’s all. I’m hardly much for company, as you so love to point out.”
“I think you’re great company,” he replied. He had meant it to come across snide, but his voice cracked. It was satisfying, watching Pure Vanilla Cookie struggle to accommodate his poor, miserable house guest. He was tempted to wait even longer to steal back his soul jam, just to watch his host squirm a bit longer. Such good company was hard to come by.

“...Thank you, Shadow Milk Cookie.” It was a little bit too slow of a response. Clearly, he’d touched a nerve.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The meeting with Pure Vanilla Cookie’s friends went surprisingly smoothly. They found the trio sitting at a table on the lawn, already chattering away, enjoying the midday sun. How they could stand the bright light and the heat, he wasn’t sure. All in the name of a good show, though. He could put up with it for the sake of getting what he wanted. The table was set with all kinds of appetizers, and if they were anything like the breakfasts Pure Vanilla had been treating him to, this lunch might just be bearable. One of the young cookies looked up and waved when they approached.

“Is this him??” He had a high, excitable voice, and he shook Shadow Milk’s hand with a great amount of energy. “The last time we saw him, he was trying to kill us!” Well. What he lacked in tact, he made up for in entertainment value.

“Are your friends usually this ill-mannered, Sunflower? Or just the ones you bring to my spire?” Pure Vanilla kicked him under the table, hard. “What?” He hissed, out loud.

“It is true,” the one in the wizard hat spoke up. “You really put us through it!” His tone was very cross, a frown just visible over his scarf.

“You put up a good fight,” Shadow Milk replied. Flattery goes a long way. “It was my pleasure to have such a high spirited audience!”

“I think I’d prefer not to be in your audience again,” Wizard Cookie grumbled. He tugged his hat down over his eyes and looked away. Was he not hot, wearing that hat and scarf in the sun? Shadow Milk glanced at Pure Vanilla, who was distracted speaking with Gingerbrave, and snapped his fingers under the table. The hat lifted into the wind, and Wizard Cookie yelped, jumping up to catch it. It felt good to use magic. Some odd weeks of using it so sparingly, and he had begun to feel slightly sick. Exercising that muscle made him feel alive. He had been given these skills, he was going to use them. Pure Vanilla turned at the noise, but Shadow Milk had already busied his hands with the food in front of him.

“Is everything alright?” His host asked mildly.

“Your kingdom is very windy,” Shadow Milk replied.

“My hat nearly blew away,” Wizard Cookie grumbled. He reached up and jammed it squarely over his head. Shadow Milk turned his attention to the pink one—Strawberry Cookie, who had been somewhat quiet. He coughed, and in the same moment, flicked his wrist, briefly summoning a shadow that tapped her on the shoulder. She squeaked in surprise and turned, trying to see what it was. While her back was turned, Shadow Milk’s hand darted across the table, stealing the last of her jellyberries.

“Oh crumbs,” she sighed, when her attention was back on the table. “Wizard Cookie, did you-”

“-wasn’t me!”

Shadow Milk felt a sense of internal pride at causing even a little bit of chaos, but he was careful to keep his expression concerned. At this point, Pure Vanilla was eyeing him, and it wouldn’t be wise to mess around anymore.

Their conversation concluded, Gingerbrave turned his focus to Shadow Milk, needling him with pointless questions.

“Have you been in the Vanilla kingdom long? Pure Vanilla Cookie said you were struggling.”

“A few weeks,” Shadow Milk replied. A few weeks too long, really. “Yes, I-” he felt Pure Vanilla’s vigilant gaze and added smooth honey to his tone. “It’s been oh, so painful, but I’ve had to part with my magic. After the spire fell, I found myself completely unable to cast any spells!” He sniffled. If anyone looked particularly close, they might see the mirth in his other eyes, but the two mismatched eyes on his face were weepy and solemn. “My own minions turned against me, you know.”

“That must have been so scary!” Man, this kid took the bait easily. Was he always this sympathetic? Or had Pure Vanilla just given them all a very thorough briefing?

“Oh, well. I’ve seen some preeetty scary things in my time,” Shadow Milk replied. “I can even be scarier things.” He grinned, showing his teeth. It was supposed to be a threatening display, but Gingerbrave’s eyes sparkled.

“You really can!” He glanced between the two of them. “Pure Vanilla Cookie, you must feel so lucky to have such a powerful ally.”

“Oh, I do.” There was such audible enjoyment in Pure Vanilla’s voice. The smile on his face crept into his tone and warmed Shadow Milk’s dough. This was ridiculous. He was being put on display.

The other two seemed suspicious of him, still, but they made pleasant enough conversation. He finally won an escape from their ire when he helped the short one, the Wizard Cookie, with a spell that was puzzling him. Occasionally, being the ex-god of knowledge had benefits.

“I’m afraid I just don’t understand some of the language in the book,” he bemoaned. “It’s just too ancient for me.”

“Let me see it?” Shadow Milk grabbed the book from him before he could respond. “This is.. oh, wait, I can read this!” His mind was so graciously allowing him access to the Fount’s knowledge. “It’s an old bookkeeping spell, I know this one. It helps you categorize large collections—usually libraries.”

That seemed to please Pure Vanilla, who became more lax in his vigilance, so eager to learn something new about magic. They poured over Wizard Cookie’s book for a full hour, pointing out various spells and asking him to translate them. He played along, still feeling like more of a collector’s item than a trusted friend. All in the name of the game, that was all he had to remind himself. He was not swayed by their flattery, of course. Well… only a little bit. It felt… good, he thought, to be appreciated for his talents. It felt good to have a rapt audience that wasn’t shaking in fear, that was genuinely appreciative of his answers to their questions. If he soaked up some of the praise and attention, was that really so bad?

You’re getting too comfortable, came the familiar scolding of his moral compass. This is how they trap you. You trust them, and they twist it. You have to be the one with the upper hand. He needed to get out of here. They were laughing about something, a story about something that had happened in Gingerbrave and his friends’ kingdom.

“I think I need to get out of the sun,” Shadow Milk interrupted, pushing his chair back quickly. Pure Vanilla’s eyes gleamed with concern, but he was already rushing away.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was far too easy to slip away unnoticed. With the commotion in the castle, and the buzz about Pure Vanilla’s visiting friends, crowds had gathered in town. Initially, they had gathered to watch the guests travel in. Once that show was over, they began visiting the various market stalls and making conversation with one another. It was easy to slip into a new disguise. Not an alias—he didn’t need a new identity for what he intended here. Taking on new identities too completely left his memory with holes, and the details slipped through his fingers like sand. He needed his mind sharp for this. He wanted to enjoy it. Savor it. Just a disguise. With a flourish of his cloak, he took on a new face: a young child, with wide eyes and an inviting smile. The crowd accepted him in instantly, and it took him only moments to disappear.

“I wonder what they could be discussing in the castle.” A familiar voice, high and reedy, cut through the crowd. Candy Apple Cookie. He found her standing on a box, speaking with an artisan selling wooden carvings. “It must be something important. They marched right in there!” She had dressed herself in simple sepia tones and a very fluffy dress.

“I heard,” Shadow Milk cut in, raising the pitch of his voice, “they’re responding to a new threat.” Candy Apple turned when she heard him, but she managed to restrain her glee to her hands, which tugged and fidgeted with her coat. Thank the creators. She stepped aside, making room for him to join the conversation.

“What kinda threat?” She leaned on the edge of the stall and rested her chin in her hands. “That sounds scary.”

“I heard that there’s a spy in the kingdom.” He leaned in, conspiratorial. All it took was one lie to get people going.

“That’s ridiculous,” the artisan interrupted. “The Vanilla kingdom is very well protected.” And then he paused, reflecting without any input from either of them. “Though… I did see Black Raisin Cookie take a knife to the blacksmith to get it sharpened today…”

“That seems odd,” Candy Apple replied. “The visitors today are friends of his, that’s what I thought! Unless…” she gasped. “Unless there is a threat in the kingdom??”

“It is possible,” the artisan cookie mused.

Before his presence could raise suspicions, Shadow Milk made himself scarce, disappearing into the crowd. Slipping into an alley, he changed his appearance again, taking on the form of a young woman with long white hair.

He found Black Sapphire Cookie inside a diner, making conversation with a large table in the back corner. Ever the showman, he had them thoroughly engrossed in a story, with his hands drawing their attention this way and that. When Shadow Milk entered the establishment, they made eye contact, and he faltered only slightly before continuing his tale. None of them acknowledged his presence as he took a seat among them.

“Have you come from the palace?” Black Sapphire was the first to bring attention to the newcomer. “I don’t believe I’ve seen someone like you around town before.”

“The palace? Goodness, no. Wouldn’t that be an honor?” He tossed his hair over his shoulder, basking in the attention from the table. “But... I did see Black Raisin Cookie headed that way after she left the blacksmith’s shop.” He leaned in close, and the cookies at the table followed suit, eager to be in on a secret. Cookies. So predictable. “I wonder if she’s following up on the rumors…” He let that hang in the air for a moment. Their attention was rapt, many pairs of eyes trained completely on him. “I have heard there may be a spy in the Vanilla kingdom.” Instant gasps and looks of horror. End scene. Black Sapphire raised his eyebrows and covered his mouth with an appalled gasp.

“A spy in the Vanilla kingdom? Surely not. The kingdom is so well defended.”

“You must be right,” Shadow Milk replied. “Besides, I’ve never known cookies who trust each other more than the cookies of the Vanilla kingdom. If there were a spy here, I’m sure you all would know.” A villager cookie beside him grimaced. Excellent. It only took a small seed of doubt to grow a forest of deceit.

“Yeah,” one of them said. “Of course. We trust each other. But-” Perfect. “I don’t know. My neighbor has been quiet lately.” The other cookies at the table were quick to jump on the ruse. Jackals, the lot of them, so eager to scavenge from the body of deceit. He slipped away when they began to raise their voices. Something was thrown as he left, and he heard glass shattering.

Quietly, he wove through the crowd, looking for somewhere dark to wait. An alley appeared at just the right time, and he ducked into it. He looked over his shoulder. Good. No one had followed him- that is, no one that he didn’t want to be there. After a few moments, he was joined by each of his followers. Candy Apple joined him first, grinning ear to ear. Wisely, Black Sapphire staggered his arrival, and stepped into the alley a few moments later. He gave both of their disguises an appraising look.

“It’s good to meet you both,” he said, and he curtsied. “I’m so happy to meet some friends here. What are your names, you lovely, lovely cookies?”

“You have the pleasure of meeting the one and only Opera Cookie,” Black Sapphire replied. Shadow Milk offered a hand, and he shook it. Now that they were in daylight, Shadow Milk could appreciate the details of their disguises. For Black Sapphire, a fine chocolate suit and golden detailing, with strips of crème and chocolate in his hair. “This is my sister, Maple Syrup Cookie.” Candy Apple’s hair was tied into two braided buns in a honey color. “We are here on business from our parents, who sang the praises of the workmanship of the Vanilla kingdom.”

“Good,” he said. “Excellent work, both of you.” They both looked a bit brighter upon receiving the praise. He wondered if he was being too soft on them.

“Are you going to come up with an alias too, Master Shadow Milk Cookie?” Maple Syrup Cookie was staring at him with wide eyes.

“An alias? No, the great master of deceit has no need for such things. I can manipulate him from his right hand side, with exactly the face the creators gave me.” He gave them a wolfish grin.

“Shall we keep up this ruse?” Opera Cookie questioned. “A spy within the kingdom?”

“Only as much as you need to, my brilliant followers.” It shouldn’t take much, really. The right prodding here and there, and these cookies would tear themselves apart. “So long as they believe there is a reason to distrust each other, the work will practically do itself!” And oh, how fun it would be, watching the Vanilla kingdom’s perfect veneer break down into chaos.

“He’s being uncharacteristically flattering,” Opera Cookie hissed to Maple Syrup under his breath. “Do you think something is wrong?” Shadow Milk chose not to acknowledge that. She whispered something back, something he couldn’t quite make out. He snapped his fingers, drawing their attention back.

“You are so right,” Maple Syrup said. “Ohhh, they’re going to be so angry trying to figure out which of them is a spy. I can’t wait!” She bounced back and forth on her heels. Ever the excitable cookie, that one. “No one can be trusted!”

“It’s gonna be good,” Shadow Milk agreed. “We should let them circulate it themselves, just for now. I don’t want to overplay my hand. That pesky thief is keeping a close eye on me.”

Perhaps he would pay you less attention if you stopped eating every meal with him. Yeah, yeah, whatever. He was having fun with it. So what?

“He won’t know what hit him when you finally reveal yourself,” Opera Cookie praised. “We will slip back out into the crowd. Go back to the palace, don’t let him wonder where you were.” He reached out to take Maple Syrup’s hand, and she swatted him away. “Look, I know, but it’s all in the name of the show.” Shadow Milk snorted. They didn’t have to try very hard to convince anyone they were siblings. Maple Syrup heaved a sigh so heavy, her whole body slumped forward. With a bit more complaint, she took her “brother’s” hand and returned to the marketplace, which was growing louder by the minute. He counted to 60 before making his escape as well.

It was even easier to slip back into the palace than it had been to slip away. When he returned, Pure Vanilla Cookie gave him a concerned glance, and then smiled warmly, inviting him back to the table. He was pulled immediately back into the conversation, which apparently had veered into a discussion on a strange creature Gingerbrave had encountered. They were debating, with much fervor, whether it had been a cake hound, or some kind of cat. With no visuals to go off of, Shadow Milk took to agreeing with whoever was making the most passionate case at any given moment. The rest of the meal passed with little incident, and he found himself eager to return to his room at the end of the night. Things were starting to get interesting, finally.

Chapter Text

“You are a spider.” Shadow Milk leafed through the cards in his hand for a few moments before placing one on the pile closest to him. They sat at a table in Shadow Milk’s room, each in chairs that did not belong that they had stolen from other rooms in the castle.

“Am I?” Pure Vanilla hummed thoughtfully, and then discarded several cards in one play. Shadow Milk scoffed. Of course. He would overplay his hand. Always too hasty in his decisions.

“You are. You weave your pretty little webs of truth, and anyone who is foolish enough to trust the illusion gets tangled up and trapped.” The corners of his mouth pulled into a slight smile, but he did not discard the card that was singing to him just yet.

“Hmmm.” Pure Vanilla placed another card. When he drew his next, a frown settled over his face. Shadow Milk didn’t trust it. For a cookie with such love for the truth, he had remarkable control over his facial expressions. “Is it not deceit that is typically compared to a web?”

Shadow Milk laid an ace on the table, grinning wickedly, and Pure Vanilla chuckled as he cleared that tableau to the side. He drew again.

“Deceit is a flame, my dear Nilly.” He watched Pure Vanilla’s moves carefully. Another tableau completed and set aside. “Both beckon to insects, but the destruction brought by deceit is immediate. Deceit is not idle in its destruction.” He laid the king of wands in the corner, followed swiftly by the cards he had been hoarding, discarding most of his hand.

“And truth?” Pure Vanilla laid a card on the new tableau.

“Truth is consumption.” He found himself unable to play, and drew from the center pile with an overstated frown. “Truth wraps you up in sweetness. A spider’s web feels like an embrace until the venom sets in.”

“I see.” Pure Vanilla drew another card. “Would you not describe a fire as consumption? A living thing, in its own right?”

“Things grow after a wildfire,” Shadow Milk replied. “Some plants thrive on it. Look at a forest after a fire, you will find new growth feeding on the ash. Nothing gains from being consumed.” He discarded three cards, leaving himself with two, after drawing again.

“Parasites do.” Pure Vanilla played his last card, the ace of cups. When had he run out of cards? How had he managed that? Shadow Milk had been watching his moves so closely. His host chuckled. “You were watching my moves, not my hands, Shadow Milk.” Oh, that was low. That was a dirty trick. Using stage magicians tricks against him? That was underhanded.

“Next time, I’m going to win, mark my words.” He tossed his cards into the air, and they scattered wildly around the room. Pure Vanilla sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Of course, cleaning this was his responsibility. Shadow Milk was more than content to sit on the bed and watch him, continuing their argument.

There should not be a “next time.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

How much longer could he convince Pure Vanilla Cookie this was helping him? By now, there was no real reason to justify his continued presence in the Vanilla Kingdom. Of course he had his own machinations—the little lie he had spread was beginning to catch like fire, and he was eager to watch—but to his host, there was no reason for his presence. He had torn through the library, exhausting its resources, and by now there was very little non-fiction for him to read. His supposed recovery was making little headway. The testing had stopped altogether, with Pure Vanilla content to accommodate for his new shortcomings. He laid in bed and stared at the room around him.

The curtains were blue now, blue and dotted with stars and eyes. Pure Vanilla Cookie had asked someone to change them when Shadow Milk complained about the sun getting in his eyes in the morning. The embroidery had been his own work, done over several days while Pure Vanilla was busy with his duties. They had also added a curtain to his bed, so that he could shut himself out from the world. He had not left the room last night. He hadn’t slept, either. He had spent the night pacing back and forth in mid-air, debating with his internal voice. This ruse had gone on for far too long.

“Knock knock!” Pure Vanilla Cookie was audibly smiling as he announced his presence at Shadow Milk’s door.

“Go away,” Shadow Milk replied. His face was still pressed into a pillow, so it was far too quiet for anyone to hear.

The door swung open. He turned just enough to see his host in the doorway. Pure Vanilla looked disgustingly radiant. A halo of light seemed to follow him as he swept into the room, balancing a tray of food in one arm.

“How are you this morning?” He placed the tray beside Shadow Milk and sat on the bed next to him, reaching out to touch his face. “Your dough feels strong,” he said. “I’m glad you’ve healed so well in such a short time.” A short time? It had been over a month of doting and domesticity and entertaining his friends. He would hardly call that short. It was only thanks to his unending patience that the palace wasn’t in ruins by now.

Shadow Milk bit back the urge to ask how much longer they were going to dance around the elephant in the room. He did not need to be here. Pure Vanilla’s hand moved from his forehead to his cheek, and he gently brushed some of Shadow Milk’s hair out of his face. Why in the world had he done that? Anger rose in him again, warming his face. Pure Vanilla chucked.

“I have some business to take care of today, if you’d like to come along,” Pure Vanilla offered. “My… mechanic, shall we say, is encountering problems with their machinery. Perhaps there is some knowledge you acquired in your past that could be helpful.”

That made him scoff. Any knowledge he had acquired as his former self was locked beyond a tall, blue door in his mind that only opened when the Fount of Knowledge felt so inclined. A door with scratches in the paint from his many attempts to open it when he had first escaped confinement. Behind that door, an ocean of information was begging to escape, causing the hinges to creak and the wood to bulge and splinter. All he got was the occasional piece that managed to leak out. If he focused, sometimes he could draw on specific memories, but more often than not, he was assaulted by unfamiliar memories, recollections of a life he had lived so long ago it did not belong to him. He shuddered to think what would happen if he ever found that door unlocked.

“I’d be happy to help! It’s not like there’s anything else to do in this place!” He forced a smile. “Really, Vanilly, what do you do without a jester making things interesting? If I was in charge of this place-”

Too far. Pure Vanilla’s mouth opened slightly, clearly shocked at the open declaration of intent. The air stilled, and the bluebirds outside his window stopped singing for a moment. He waited for the other shoe to drop, for Pure Vanilla Cookie to tell him to get out. After a moment, his host shook his head and smiled again, as though he had banished the trepidation with such a simple movement.

“So you’ll come along?”

There was nothing that could shake this guy, huh?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The hangar smelled of waffles and crème. The sound of machinery was dizzying and overwhelming. Light filtered in through the massive windows, and it stung his eyes. Most of this technology was somewhat beyond his understanding, but what little he could remember was just enough to be deeply impressed, and a little intimidated. Strange machines. Inside the large room, two figures stood, deep in conversation. The first, he recognized by Pure Vanilla Cookies fond reminiscence: Black Raisin Cookie, her hand on her hip, eyes narrowed in frustration. Though the townsfolk had spoken about her in passing, he had yet to meet her. The other cookie, sitting on the floor, he was less certain about. They had wild pink hair, flying in every which direction, and they were gesturing angrily. This must be the mechanic Pure Vanilla had mentioned.

“Pardon me,” Pure Vanilla said, interrupting their discussion. “I am sorry, but may I cut in? I heard there was an accident.”

“Oh, NOW you show up.” The little one stood. Their eyes were shining. “The wafflebots are malfunctioning. I don’t know what happened, but they’re attacking people I didn’t tell them too.” They gestured wildly as they spoke, hands a blur, and they paced back and forth rapidly.

“I see,” Pure Vanilla said. “Is anyone injured?”

“Not badly,” Black Raisin Cookie cut in. She gave him a friendly smile and nudged his shoulder. For a brief moment, they smiled at each other. Just as quickly, she jumped into business. That was a cookie who knew how to get things done, for sure. He thought that he did not want to end up on her bad side. “One of the villagers was a bit scraped up, but it’s nothing serious. It’s good that you’re here, though. I have a bad feeling about this.” Saying this, she glared at Shadow Milk. He frowned back. He had nothing to do with this one, surprisingly.

“Where are they?” Pure Vanilla rushed after her to a nearby cookie who was shuddering and holding his arm. With no wasted time, Pure Vanilla’s staff began to glow, and he carefully ministered to the wound. Seeing him so in his element, Shadow Milk recognized how out of water he was. His host was gracious, surprisingly charming, so entirely in control of himself. There was a confidence to his movement that Shadow Milk found enviable. No, not enviable. Shameful. Stolen valor. That confidence was not his, it was because of the soul jam he had stolen. He had no right to stride about this castle like he knew exactly who he was, charming everyone he spoke to, when his entire purpose was stolen.

“Hey.” Something struck him in the side, shocking him out of his mind. “HEY.” Again, they struck him, this time with more force. “I’m talking to you.” Shadow Milk looked down and saw the little one with the pink hair, preparing to punch him again. Shadow Milk glowered, baring his teeth. He expected them to shrink back, but they just followed through on hitting him again. For a little thing, they packed a serious punch.

“What can I do for you?” He glared at them.

“What are you?”

“I- Excuse me?” Now they had his complete attention.

“I tried to scan for your ingredients-” -rude- “-but you’re weird. Based on your component parts, you should be more than one cookie.” They stared at him with wide eyes, and he swore he could see the gears turning in their mind. What could that possibly mean? “And your makeup… you are made up of 50% deceit, but I can’t see what ingredient is causing it!”

“Only 50%? Check your calculations again, kid. That’s low-balling it.” He wondered what the other percentages were, but betraying too much curiosity felt unwise.

“I see milk here,” they continued, like they hadn’t heard him. “That’s an ingredient. But half of your ingredients aren’t registering, at all, I just get errors! So… what are you!”

“I…” Shadow Milk leaned over them, allowing himself just enough use of magic to cast a shadow over them, “...am a beast. I’m a monster. I’m an abomination.” It was a rare moment of honesty. He was all of those things. It was the most honest answer he could give.

“Huh!” The kid stared at him for a long time. Was this working at all? “I like you. You’re fun.”

Well that was unexpected.

“Fun? Fun?? Fun??” Shadow Milk towered over them, showing all of his teeth. A shadow fell over his eyes. His hair fluffed up, and each of his eyes widened. The kid was beaming. “Now THIS kid gets it,” he declared. “Did you make all of the puppets in here?”

“Nah, some of them I just fixed. And they’re not puppets. They’re wafflebots. Do you have a name?” Just one topic to the next with this one, huh?

“Shadow Milk Cookie, at your service.” He took a very over-dramatic bow. “To whom do I owe the pleasure of my presence?”

“Strawberry Crepe Cookie.” They held out a hand. “You’re more fun than he is.” They gestured to Pure Vanilla Cookie, who, at that moment, was deep in conversation with Black Raisin Cookie. They were laughing, just loud enough to be heard over the machinery. Pure Vanilla wiped a tear from his eye. What on Earthbread could they be talking about that was so funny?

“Well, he’s a buzzkill,” Shadow Milk snorted. “I bet he doesn’t even let you take those things out to test them.”

“He doesn’t.” They looked peeved.

“Well maybe I’ll use my sway to change his mind about that.” Now this was good. Maybe, just maybe, he could have another ally in the Vanilla kingdom. Opera Cookie and Maple Syrup Cookie would be miffed at having another cookie join their small group, but it would be good to have eyes inside the castle. He relaxed his shoulders, casting away the shadows he had drawn around himself before the thief could notice it. “So how strong are those things?”

“The wafflebots are-” Strawberry Crepe Cookie stopped, their eyes going wide again, looking over his shoulder. “Oh no, no no! They’re doing it again!”

Shadow Milk whipped around to see what was happening, and watched as one of the wafflebots powered on. Rather than the usual red, its eyes emitted bright violet light. It took a heavy step forward, and the hangar floor shook. A villager cookie standing nearby was knocked off her feet, and she scrambled away. It turned to better scan the room. Strawberry Crepe Cookie started to run towards it, and Shadow Milk lunged forward, pulling them back with his staff. He hadn’t even registered that he’d summoned it. He couldn’t make an ally and lose them in the same minute. This was no simple malfunction. Someone had been in here.

“Strawberry Crepe Cookie.” He gripped their shoulder, and they tried to wriggle away. “Has anyone else operated on the wafflebots? I’ve heard some… concerning rumors in the kingdom recently.”
“No, I don’t think so.” They thought about it. “At least not while I was here!” He let them go. This wasn’t just anyone’s work. He recognized Black Sapphire’s- no, Opera Cookie’s touch. Lost in thought, it took him a moment to hear the beginnings of a fight breaking out. What finally pulled his focus back was the sound of Pure Vanillas voice shouting something he couldn’t make out.

The hangar was in disarray. Villager cookies had scattered, avoiding the ire of the out-of-control robot as it charged them. He couldn’t have cared less about them. The wafflebot was charging up an attack, a beam of energy directed at Pure Vanilla, and the old fool didn’t even see it, too focused on helping someone get to safety. That fool and his kindness. All compassion ever did was put you in danger.

“Move out of the way, you idiot,” he hissed. He could not see his victory taken from him by an errant robot. Oh, Opera Cookie was not going to like the retribution for this. Pure Vanilla was still talking to the villager cookie, directing them to an exit. The gears inside the machine creaked and groaned as it closed in. At the last second, Pure Vanilla stepped out of the way to guide his friend, and the attack missed by a hair’s breadth. Shadow Milk’s vision narrowed to a single tunnel, at the end of which was Pure Vanilla Cookie. Violet light spilled over him, and he looked up just in time to see the wafflebot reposition itself and rear back. He began to step back, but there was no time, and the wafflebot was picking up speed, and—

“No.” His feet left the ground as he surged forward, no thought in his mind but protecting Pure Vanilla Cookie- no, protecting the soul jam. The only person who could take that away was him. No lumbering machine was going to take that satisfaction from him. Heart hammering in his chest, he crossed the hangar in half a second. His arms wrapped around Pure Vanilla’s waist, and they both spun out of control, falling out of the danger zone. The wafflebot slammed its leg down, and the ground shook again. Its eyes scanned them both, but after a moment, a loud hissing of air signaled that it had powered down. If this was Black Sapphire’s work, it was good that he had built in a fail-safe to protect Shadow Milk. As long as he was there, it would not touch Pure Vanilla- nor the soul jam he possessed.

Now there was a new problem. Pure Vanilla Cookie was under him, breathing heavily, clearly still trying to understand what had happened.

“Shadow Milk?” His voice wavered. Shadow Milk found himself savoring the fondness in his tone, far richer than any of the food he had been treated to in his time here. To think his ruse had been so successful, that his target would say his name so reverently. Pure Vanilla was a sitting duck.“Thank you. I- You-”

“Shhh, don’t tire yourself out.” He hoped his smile wasn’t too audible. This was just… too good.

“You saved me.”

Your soul jam, his internal compass corrected. We saved your soul jam. And then, something odd- the voice addressed him directly. That is what you meant to do, correct? Of course. Why else would he have- If he felt any sentimentality, it was only his enjoyment at how fun this game was. His delight at the continued ruse was schadenfreude, he did not like his host, it was all in the name of-

Pure Vanilla’s hand closed around his shirt. Pure Vanilla’s hands were clinging to him. Pure Vanilla was laying under him, eyes heavy lidded and darker than usual. He realized that he was straddling him. The thought to scramble away—reject the indignity of being seen like this before anyone could make any assumptions—that thought occurred to him, but… Pure Vanilla’s hand was pulling him closer. His dough felt hot, and his limbs were heavier than normal. Something was tugging at him, pulling him towards his other half, and he didn’t think it was rage. Or gravity. His lips parted to say something.

Something heavy slammed into the back of his head, and in the moment of confusion, he was dragged off of Pure Vanilla, and a knife was pointed to his throat.

“What were you doing with him? What are your intentions??” Black Raisin Cookie, seething with rage, puffed up like one of her crows.

“Wait,” Pure Vanilla started. “He was-”

“No.” The knife pressed into his throat, and he felt jam begin to bead against his skin. “He used magic. I saw him. You said he couldn’t do that anymore.” She leaned in close. “Found your powers again, did you?”

“I-” Speaking hurt. “I wanted to save him.”

Is that a lie?

“Are you lying to me right now?”

Are you?

“No. No, I. I was- I wanted to save him.” For the sake of the game. For the ruse. “It… it would be a shame to see a face that perfect get taken out by an overactive science fair project!” He held up his hands.

“Hm.” Black Raisin Cookie removed the knife from his throat, but her gaze remained piercing. “In that case, I suppose I should be thanking you.” She returned the knife to its place at her side. “But I’m keeping an eye on you. Don’t forget that.” Her hand was held out to him, and he accepted it. Right now, it wasn’t smart to make enemies. She stepped aside, allowing Pure Vanilla to cut in.

“You’re hurt,” He said.

“Yeah, well. Your fault.” Pure Vanilla Cookie pulled him into a tight embrace before he could make any further sardonic commentary.

“Geez, you going soft on me, sunflower?” He patted Pure Vanilla’s back.

“Please do not endanger yourself like that again. Not for my sake.” The arms around him squeezed tightly. Pure Vanilla was shaking. The beating of his heart was fast enough that Shadow Milk could feel it against his skin. He felt warm.

“Oh,” Shadow Milk gasped. What did he gain from this? Anger began to pool inside of him, hot and heavy. Was protecting the soul jam worth more to him than his pride?

“Let me heal your neck.” Pure Vanilla leaned away just enough to bring up a hand and heal the wound. He lingered there, just a moment too long, hand on Shadow Milk’s throat. And Shadow Milk let him. Why? Why? Why was he doing this?

“Alright, alright, show’s over,” Shadow Milk griped. Pure Vanilla’s eyes drooped, but he nodded. Just before stepping away, he leaned in close and pressed a quick, soft kiss to Shadow Milk’s cheek. Warmth bloomed from the place where they had touched. Heat rose to his face.

“Thank you,” Pure Vanilla repeated.

You’ve really sold him on this, his internal voice commented, and he swore there was laughter in it. Pure Vanilla hurried away to reassure the other cookies in the hangar, and Black Raisin cookie joined him again.

“Did you do something to him?” Her voice was low, and her was so even it unnerved him.

“All I did was ask him for help.”

“Ah.” She laughed fondly. Some of the tension melted away from her. “Yes, well, that would do it.” And then she socked him in the arm, hard.

“Why?”

“He trusts you.” She did not answer his question. “So, for the time being… I will too. But I’m watching you. If you really are regaining your magic… I just hope you’re using it for the right reasons.” Much, much quieter, she added, “I hear there’s a spy in the kingdom. I don’t suppose you know anything about it?”

“If I were going to spy on the kingdom, I wouldn’t be here,” he snorted. “Please, I’m a better performer than that. Do you really think I’d show my hand like that?”

“Yes, alright, point taken. If it isn’t you, would you keep an eye out? I don’t want to burden Pure Vanilla with this.” Her tone grew so fond when she spoke of him. Their friendship was evidently very strong. Perhaps he could exploit that. “I know you have eyes everywhere. He has told me… a lot about you.” Why was there such an audible smile in her voice when she said that? “I know you hurt him… and I know he hurt you, as well, but… well. You’d be a good ally.” Black Raisin Cookie was certainly a pragmatist, that much was clear. But… Pure Vanilla, hurting him​? He bit back a laugh. That was a scream. Pure Vanilla Cookie, having the power to hurt him? No, Pure Vanilla did not have the power to hurt him. All the power here was his.

Chapter Text

He dreamt of a garden. The cloying scent of apples, trees with leaves that were far too green, grass that felt like a carpet under his feet. Somewhere, a soda stream bubbled over sugar crystals. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair. He swore he heard music. This was not her garden, but the imagery was similar. A safe haven that felt all too inviting. Something dangerous under the surface. He found a dark tree with tall, gnarled branches, and sat beneath it. With his back against it, he felt more grounded in whatever reality this was. It only took a few moments for his isolation to be broken. His only warning was a soft rattling in the leaves. Something slithered down from the branches and draped itself over his shoulders.

This has gone on far too long, his internal voice hissed. The snake had blue scales, eyes that looked like his. Sharp fangs. Diamonds on its back. What are you doing?

“I’m having fun,” he answered honestly. “An eternity of nothing, can’t a cookie have a bit of fun before destroying his playthings?” There was so much bite in his voice, so much venom. How ironic.

You can make a new one. He felt the scales shift, the snake weaving around his neck. Make a puppet that will be everything you could ever want.

“I did,” he replied. Blue robes and tired eyes appeared in his mind’s eye. “He betrayed me.”

Cookies always do. We know this. The snake lazily coiled tighter around his throat. Why would they listen to what is true, when a lie is so much sweeter​?

“I don’t think he’s going to betray me. Not again.” Shadow Milk lifted his hand and scritched a finger under the snake's chin. Its eyes shut, and it leaned into the contact. Even this venomous thing craved contact, craved soft touch and comfort.

Of course, it replied to his thoughts. We are one and the same, inextricable. I want what you do.

“No, you don’t.” Shadow Milk leaned further back and watched the sunlight through the leaves. “I want to drag out this lie, relish the moment he realizes I lied to him. Savor the tremble in his voice. You want to destroy him as quickly as possible and leave nothing behind.”

He will seal you away, you know this. He will not hesitate. So why are you​?

That was a threat worth considering. Another eternity of nothingness? The nothingness was where this version of him had been born, and he had been left to gather the pieces of every version of him that was past. What a burden. What a privilege.

Some spiders feed on snakes. The snake opened its jaws and pressed the point of its fangs against his throat. Will you let him weave his webs around you? Or will you strike first?

Shadow Milk felt panic rise in him. His staff appeared in his hand. This was not real, was merely a dream, but the fangs against his throat dripped with promise. This version of him, this internal voice, his moral compass, it would not hesitate to strike if it felt threatened. Right now, he was the threat, continually driving them into the web and drawing the threads around himself like the softest blanket. It was he that could not give up this lie. How much was he willing to accept for the sake of eventual vindication? The staff began to hum with the threat of violence against his internal voice. The snake began to rattle again. It was afraid. They both were.

When the fangs sunk into his throat, he felt it, felt the venom course through him, felt it corrode his jam and break down the bonds that held him together. He did not begrudge the snake one bit. It was only natural to lash out against that which threatened your safety. But it burned. He tried to scream, but jam bubbled up in his throat, choking the sound. It fizzed out of his eyes, out of his nose. All he sensed was sweetness and agony, hand in hand.

When Pure Vanilla joined him for breakfast that morning, he could not hide his concern. There were no games, no cards, no tricks, just softness in his eyes and something tugging the corners of his mouth down. Shadow Milk gave him no answers, only a smile the did not reach his eyes and words that were too honey sweet. Words that tasted like jam.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

After his little stint in the hangar, the testing had resumed. He found that it was far more challenging to act partially capable than to act like he had no magic at all. It was all well and good to snivel pathetically and act like an injured puppy, but imitating recovery brought new challenges with it. How much was too much? How much power could he reasonably display? It was a new problem, a new puzzle to solve each day.

Shadow Milk was relishing it. With every success, Pure Vanilla’s trust in him grew, and with every failure, he was coddled, reassured, given sympathy. He could not have told a better joke. This was incredible. He sat in bed, pouring over a book he had borrowed, considering his options. Pure Vanilla was late today, and he was capitalizing on the chance to ruminate—a skill he had honed in his years of imprisonment. Any day now, the soul jam would be his. After so much effort, so much time, he felt lighter knowing it was all almost over. The world was going to be under his thumb soon. No more chains, never again.

“I apologize!” Pure Vanilla’s voice lilted through the slightly ajar door. “I know I am late! I was making preparations, and the time got away from me!” He stepped inside the room. There was a table permanently in the room now, gilded and painted with the constellations, and there were two very comfortable chairs at either side of it. Shadow Milk drifted out of bed and took his seat. “I have brought food, but eat lightly. I would be remiss to miss any one of our breakfasts together, but we have somewhere to be.”

“What’s on the agenda today, dissection?” He selected a scone before Pure Vanilla could set they tray down and took a bite. It tasted like apples.

“Don’t be crass.” Pure Vanilla sat across from him. Sweat was beading across his forehead. What in the world did the fool have planned for today? “I have a friend visiting. I am… meant to be teaching today, and I have shirked that responsibility to help you with your recovery. I have asked a dear companion to take over in my absence so my students do not fall behind. I was ensuring my lesson plans were in order.”

“Awww, I get special treatment?” He lifted a mug of coffee to his lips. “You really know how to charm ‘em, Nilly. Do you always take off work for your guests?” Who could he possibly have brought in? Of his friends, who would be capable of teaching a lecture? Not Black Raisin, of course. Magic was not her forte. Espresso Cookie, perhaps? He had been a professor at the Parfaedia Institute. Surely he was more than capable?

“Admittedly, yes,” Pure Vanilla replied. “I am in the bad habit of forgoing my own needs and deadlines in favor of ensuring my friends are comfortable.”

“How candid! I’m going to use this against you.” He giggled.

“I believe you already are,” his host replied mildly. “You are dragging me away from my students so I may teach the master of deceit how to cast basic levitation spells once more. I hope you appreciate your level of influence.”

“So,” Shadow Milk said, ignoring that comment, “who’s taking over for you? Is it that pretentious cookie from the Creme Republic? One of your old friends? I’m on the edge of my seat here.”

“Ah.” Pure Vanilla took a long sip of coffee. He set the mug down and pushed it to the side. “Well. I wanted to make sure my students would be in good hands-”

“Oh this has got to be good. Tell me who it is, sunflower.”

“You needn’t worry yourself with that.” Pure Vanilla’s lips were a tight line, his gaze averted.

“Well this is interesting,” Shadow Milk snarled. “You’re keeping secrets from me?”

“Not as such.” His host sighed. “I do not want to give you the truth when I know you will not like it. I know how you can be.” As soon as that last comment left his lips, Pure Vanilla’s hand went to his face, as though it had been slightly more rude than he had intended.

“Oh,” Shadow Milk laughed. “Oh, oh I see.” He leaned in close over the table. “How about we make a game out of it? If I succeed in my lessons today, you will tell me who it was that delayed you.”

“You are not going to drop this, are you.” He massaged his temples.

“You know how I can be.” Acid rose in his throat.

“Very well. Hmm.” Another deep breath, and Pure Vanilla’s smile returned, warm and inviting as ever. How he managed to switch gears so fast was a mystery. “If you can beat me in chess without touching any of the pieces with your hands, I will tell you.”

Those were agreeable conditions. Pure Vanilla, of course, was unaware that his magic had never left, and that it would be easy to the point of comedy. The only challenge would be playing a game that he could win. His opponent had a proclivity for distracting him, and closing in while his mind was occupied.

“Alright, sure.” He put on a mask of his own. “Since you crave defeat oh so badly, I’ll oblige you. What kind of a guest would I be otherwise?” Pure Vanilla chuckled, but the air between them was tense. He could not relax, even as his other half stood and crossed the room to collect the chess set that waited on a shelf in his room. Over the weeks, Shadow Milk had taken the time to customize it, painting the pieces and drawing intricate tiled designs on the board. If he were more capable at woodworking, he would have made a new box for it as well, but such things took time.

It was a short game. Hardly worth noting. He knew how to play aggressively, should the need arise, and he was barely even attending the pretense of his missing magic. Levitating a chess piece took less focus than breathing. He was too myopic, too desperate for answers, and he was not interested in entertaining Pure Vanilla’s meandering strategies, nor his disarming conversation questions. He answered every attempt at connection with a half-hearted “hmm,” and continued at his gambit. It was a simple one. The Fount had been generous enough to slip some strategy under the door, and he had seized it. Ever the opportunist. When he won, he cackled, snatching Pure Vanilla’s king from the board and holding it in front of him.

“That’s checkmate, Nillyyy.”

“I suppose it is.” Pure Vanilla sounded exhausted. No, no, that was too similar to the Truthless Recluse. That would not do. He could not have that.

“Ugh. Thank you for playing with me.” His lips curled. He was not pouting, the beast of deceit did not pout, but… well. If the shoe fits. At his vocal gratitude, a slight smile forced its way through Pure Vanilla’s malaise.

“You did well with your magic,” he praised. “I am… proud of your improvements.” Something else was humming under the praise and the pride, an emotion Shadow Milk could not identify. If he could get closer, perhaps touch Pure Vanilla’s soul jam, maybe he could put a name to it, but not from here, not sitting across from him with only his eyes and ears to go off of.

“I’ve been practicing.” He let the peace settle and counted to 30. Waited for Pure Vanilla to take a steadying breath. “So. I won.”

“Yes. You did.”

“Who is it? You promised.”

“Yes, I suppose I did.” He didn’t like it when Pure Vanilla took on that defeatist tone. It… it made the game less fun. The tug in his chest, the tar pooling in his stomach, the wavering of his other eyes, it was just an expression of frustration at a boring game, nothing more. “Alright. While we are practicing, White Lily Cookie is giving a lesson to my students.”

Oh. A blade on a pendulum in his mind came swinging down, carving him neatly in two. His mouth was dry, and so it took him a moment to get any words out.

“What.”

“She is incredibly capable, and they respect her level of expertise. They know how much trust I have in her.” His voice was so soft when he spoke of her, his eyes brighter. Shadow Milk felt something fragile within him crack. He felt the fangs against his throat. What would he need to do for Pure Vanilla to speak about him that way? “And she is one of my dearest and oldest friends. Shadow Milk, you are my guest, but I will plead that you respect my right to entertain my friends.”

There was a massive, gnawing, gaping wound inside of him, and Pure Vanilla was only twisting the knife. He felt candy hooks pulling at his body, tearing his physical form apart.

“What kind of lesson is she teaching?” His voice was low. Throaty. More of a snarl than coherent speech. All theatricality was gone in an instant. Bring in a wolf, eventually it will bite. “Is she going to run them through the basics of chaining up errant beasts?”

“She is resuming my lessons on restoration magic.” Pure Vanilla regarded him with an unfairly gentle look. He wanted to claw the softness from his eyes and eat them. “I do not begrudge your distrust of her. Nor do I intend to convince her to forgive you. Your actions broke her heart. I do not expect the two of you to speak at all.”

“No, she’s going to bind me while I’m distracted making a pen lift off a table.” He bared his teeth.

“Shadow Milk Cookie…” Pure Vanilla took a deep breath. “I am sorry. I am sorry for the circumstances that led two of my dear friends to exist on opposing sides. Truly, I am. I swear to you, you will not have to speak with her while she is in my kingdom.”

“Fine. Fine.” His internal voice was screaming, none of it coherent. He felt the leash around his throat tighten.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

White Lily Cookie was not difficult to find, when his “lessons” for the day concluded. Like him, she was not one for early mornings. She sat in a corner of the garden, eyes trained on a book. She was not reading it. He sat in wait for a long time, watching her eyes. She did not turn a page for thirty minutes, instead keeping watch over the garden with a cold stare. Several times, her gaze passed over the tree where he hid, a shadow among the branches. Like his snake. She hummed to herself for a moment, and then shut the book and set it to the side. And then she looked up at him, directly at him.

“Please do not stalk me from the shadows,” she murmured. “If we are going to speak, I would prefer we do so plainly.” Her hand went to her staff. Fear seized him.

“Well, well, well.” His form turned to shadows and reappeared in front of her. He took a bow. “Lookie, lookie, who do we have here? Leaving the faerie kingdom unattended, are we?”

“The faerie kingdom is in good hands.” Her voice was cold. The red in her eyes was impossibly deep. If he fell into that red, he would never stop falling. “If you wish to fight me, please, refrain from the theatrics. I will not hesitate to seal you away again, if it comes to that. Pure Vanilla Cookie has warned me of your… condition, at present.”

“How is the faerie kingdom faring without its king?” He flashed a shining, predatory smile.

“Please. Do not make this difficult.” Her grip on her staff readjusted.

Why are you here, if not to destroy the cookie that can bind you? He waved the voice away. That was not what he came for.

“Did he ever talk about me? In all that time you spent partying, and studying, and enjoying all the faerie kingdom had to offer?” She had a weak spot, and he was going to find it.

“He feared you,” she replied simply. “Elder Faerie Cookie…” sweetness in her voice. Solemn fondness. Sickening. “He did what he believed was right. Just as I will, if you continue to deceive my friend. I do not know what it is you are planning, but… I do not trust you. Pure Vanilla Cookie might, but I will not. You did not come here to apologize, and I am not foolish enough to believe in your weakness.”

“No, I didn’t.” He tucked his feet up, sitting in midair. “Would you apologize for attempting to seal me away?”

“Never. You were a threat, and I did what I had to.” Her voice was fierce, her resolution absolute.

“Yes. I was a threat. Smart cookie, this one.” His knee bounced restlessly.

“If you are not here to apologize, and you are not here to fight me, why are you here?” Her gaze pinned him in place. He admired her resolve, the power that he could sense flowing through her. He feared it, too. Admiration and fear, two sides of the same coin.

“I wanted to meet the cookie my dear host speaks of so, so, so sweetly, is there anything wrong with that?” He gave her a sweet smile and folded his hands together.

“Pure Vanilla Cookie…” she sighed. “He spoke fondly of you in his letters. He is grateful, I think, for the company, to have someone to share his days with. I hope you are not taking his affection for granted.” He wondered if that advice was given through experience. “I had to see your recovery for myself. You are not the same beast that…” White Lily shuddered, and did not finish her sentence. She did not have to. “But you have given me no reason to trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.” He unfolded his legs and moved to sit next to her. Every muscle in her body tensed, and she held up her staff. He moved slowly, settling on the silver bench. “You shouldn’t trust me. You’re smarter than he is, with only half of your power left. I’m a monster, you know. They call me a beast. It’s only a matter of time before I turn on him.” He was mirthless. No laughter, no tricks, just fury and intimidation.

Where are you going with this?

She considered him for a very long time. “Shadow Milk Cookie… could it be possible that you want me to strike you?” Her eyes were very wide. He watched how the moonlight flickered through her lashes.

“You tell me, you’re the professor.” Shadows pooled around them, creeping in on the edges of his vision. “What happens if you do?” His voice was low, and he cast it around them so it filled the space.

She held him in place with her gaze. Both of her hands were on her staff now, which emitted silver light and burned his eyes. She chewed the inside of her cheek, deep in thought. “No,” she said.

“No?”

“I will not enable this self-destructive impulse. If you came here looking to destroy yourself, it will not be by my hand. I will not play this game.”

“Foolish cookie.” He pulled on the shadows, shrouding them in almost total darkness. Eyes blinked open in the sky, surrounding them. White Lily’s shoulders were shaking.

“Do you feel guilty?” She whispered.

“What.”

“I do.” A new resolve came over her, and she met his gaze. “I feel guilty for my actions. For isolating myself from my trusted friends. For the destruction of my friends’ livelihoods. Disasters that were a direct result of my actions, events I could have prevented. Does it ever eat you alive, knowing that you could have done something different?”

“No, it doesn’t.” He spat the words out. “You don’t know anything about me, White Lily Cookie. I do not regret escaping my imprisonment. I do not regret lashing out against the cookie that trapped me there. I will never regret any of it. Consider this.” He leaned in close. The scent of lilies overpowered him. “You are responsible for creation, as well. Have you ever thought about that?” Bitter, sardonic laughter came over him. “It was your other self that granted me this magnificent physical form you see before you, after all.” Fear flashed across her face. “I do not regret anything.”

“You are…” the light emanating from her staff brightened. “I will not apologize for my actions. But…” With great effort, she continued. “I will sympathize with you for the actions of Elder Faerie Cookie. Know that this is against my better reasoning, and I would not do so if a very dear friend of mine was not vouching for you." That stung. Pure Vanilla Cookie, protecting him. "Elder Faerie was… he was a dear friend, and he always endeavored to put his kingdom before himself. He understood me in a way no one had before, and I will eternally be in his debt for that. He would have done anything for his people. For me. But he did not understand you. It was not his job to, I suppose. You frightened his people and spread deceit. It was not his role to understand you.” She stepped closer, and he felt impossibly small under her unwavering gaze. “But I do.” The coldness in her voice cut like a knife. The hint of compassion underneath was salt in the wound. “I see you. I see that the witches’ actions made you into a perversion of your original self. I see how your past has fractured you into pieces, and I know how that feels, as you so love to remind me. You feel like you are less than the sum of your parts. I see your need to lash out. I see your desire to be destroyed.”

He bristled. He did not desire to be destroyed.

Yes. You do. You want nothing more. That is why I am here. Yes. That inner compass had stopped him many times from destroying himself. Stopped him from trusting cookies who wanted to harm him. Stopped him from-

It had kept him safe.

“I will not answer that desire,” she continued. “But I will apologize on behalf of my friend, that his role in your story was that of a warden.” He tried to avert his gaze, but she took up his entire field of vision. The smell of lilies was intoxicating. “Please, Shadow Milk Cookie. Do not make me play the same role.” She reached out to him. Why would she reach out to him? Why would she do that? He took her hand, and it was cool in his. This was a trap, it had to be. “I will not apologize for my actions, for doing what I had to to protect the world I love so much. And I cannot forgive you for yours. But... for Pure Vanilla Cookie’s sake… please try to forgive yourself.”

“I hope he is resting peacefully.” The sincerity tasted like poison. Shadow Milk Cookie swung his staff in a wide arc and dispersed the darkness around them. In the same movement, he vanished into the shadows. As he left, he heard her begin to weep.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It comforted him to wander the halls at night most of the time. Not this night. Not so soon after his conversation with her. Their conversation replayed in his mind, over and over. The familiar actions of wandering, floating through the air and letting himself drift, it did not bring him the comfort it should have. Although he was certain the runes that marked his comings and goings were gone by now, he still left his room through the crack in the wall. It should put him at ease to build an internal map, to build an escape plan if he ever had to flee quickly. Usually it did. Pure Vanilla may not attack him, but he would not put it past Black Raisin Cookie, or even Strawberry Crepe, if he damaged any of their precious wafflebots. Their alliance was, at present, a tenuous one. He spent time in the hangar occasionally, helping them improve their work, but they were nearly as capricious as he was. If he stepped out of line, it would turn into a fight, and not a pretty one. 

Tonight was quiet. She was gone, now, summoned away on business. Pure Vanilla had been too absorbed in cleaning her things away to speak with him. Even his internal voice was leaving him alone for the time being. He floated through the halls, feeling relief that he did not have to walk. On every wall, paintings reminded him of the thief that hosted him.

Then, something broke the stillness. Ripples on the surface of the water. A soft, muffled sound, echoing down the hallway. Crying. Someone was crying.

He followed the sound to one of the guest rooms, and was affronted by the smell of lilies. She had been staying here. She was gone now, so why-

The door creaked slightly as he stepped inside. There was an empty bed in the center of the room, and he noticed that already any trace of her presence was gone. Only the smell of lilies in the air to remind him she had been there at all. The sound persisted.

There. In the corner of the room, beside the window, there was a round sofa. It would have had a nice view of the gardens, in the daytime. Now, it had a perfect view of the night sky. Curled up on the sofa, still dressed in his robes, Pure Vanilla was trembling. There was a broom on the floor beside him. Had he fallen asleep while cleaning? How in character. Shadow Milk chucked. Then Pure Vanilla let out another sob, and his laughter faded. He should be enjoying this. He should be laughing, relishing in the suffering of his enemy. So why wasn’t he? Why was he drifting closer, pushed by an invisible hand? Why was he sitting on the couch and gently running a hand through Pure Vanilla’s hair? Oh, how the web invited him.

His other half stirred, momentarily. There were tears on his face, and his shoulders trembled. His eyes did not open. With tenderness he did not know he possessed, Shadow Milk took Pure Vanilla’s hand in his and rubbed a thumb over his knuckles. Still asleep, Pure Vanilla sighed softly and reached out for him, and Shadow Milk pulled him partially onto his lap. What on Earthbread was he doing? His fingers ran through Pure Vanilla’s hair, working out tangles and knots. His other half sighed contentedly and leaned into him, burying his face in Shadow Milk's shirt.

“What am I doing?” He wondered aloud. His voice trembled. He wasn't sure if this volatile emotion inside of him was rage, or something much more dangerous. “I could crumble you right now. I could take your soul jam and restore all of my power. The Vanilla kingdom would take days to fall, if that. Your people are so trusting. I could have everything I have ever wanted.” Absently, he began to weave a few strands of blonde hair into a loose braid, just something to do with his hands. “Want. Pfft. The witches don’t care what anyone wants.” He undid his work on the braid. The motion of braiding and un-braiding Pure Vanilla’s hair was soothing. What did he want? “Your hair is so soft,” he mused.

“Shadow Milk?” NO. No, no, no. The cookie curled up on his lap began to rouse, started to blink his dreams away. Pure Vanilla’s voice was hoarse with the fog of sleep, far rougher around the edges than normal. Shadow Milk felt his heart beat faster.

“Shhh.” He reached down and shut Pure Vanilla’s eyes with his fingers before he could fully wake. “Go back to sleep, sunflower.” His other half hummed and settled back in, quickly overtaken by a new, sweeter dream. Shadow Milk gingerly slipped away and returned to shadow before Pure Vanilla could wake properly and realize what had happened. That had been far too close. Something was going to boil over soon if he kept allowing these moments of vulnerability.

Chapter Text

The mirror in Shadow Milk’s room had become the subject of a dangerous glare. Would that he could shatter it with just a look. The face in the mirror was not his. No, this was one of his aliases, a young woman with white hair and an inordinate number of layers. Each layer to the outfit was handmade—chemise, bloomers, a petticoat, a corset he had hand-decorated for no-one’s eyes but his, shoes with intricate detailing that was hid by the length of his skirts. She was lovely. The kind of lady that belonged in the Vanilla kingdom, not an errant beast with claws that did not retract. He needed to take out his frustrations on something. He was slipping up. Tangled in a web- but he intended to cut himself loose, threat to its integrity be damned. This was not an innocent visit, he was not here as a friend, and he was going to make sure Pure Vanilla Cookie did not forget that fact. That fool of a hero was giving him far too much slack, too much give on the lead, and he was going to take full advantage. Let a wolf in your home, you cannot cry when it destroys every gentle thing you love. It was as simple as this.

He let this alias consume him. The directions he had laid out were simple enough. Find an in, listen to their gossip, and turn them against each other. Ingratiate yourself with whoever you must, in the spirit of building a lie. Let them believe whatever they will about you, if it is in pursuit of discord. She would do well at this. Cookies were quick to trust a pretty face. She had a saccharine voice, so reminiscent of a dear friend of his. They would love her. It was time to take her out on the town.

Before handing over the reigns, Shadow Milk slipped out of the castle himself, hiding among the shadows. His leaving would raise no alarm. A strange woman, unfamiliar to the staff, escaping from the hallway that led to the guest rooms? That would raise questions he did not want to contend with. No, it was best that he avoid any prying eyes until he reached town. His inner voice was suspiciously silent today. He expected it approved of this course of action, and was eager for its praise when he returned home.

As soon as the castle grounds were behind him, he reappeared, taking form in the alley behind one of the many diners, dusting off his dress. She was at the forefront of his mind, eager to be seen and to take control, and he was just as eager to sit back and watch the chaos. The alley narrowed in his vision, as though the curtains were drawing partially shut. He leaned back, reclining on the nothingness in his mind, and watched himself travel through the streets of the Vanilla kingdom, commanding attention like he was owed it.

Maple Syrup and Opera were not difficult to find. Opera Cookie’s voice was enough to keep a crowd engaged, so it took little effort to follow the whispers to the small fountain he had turned into a stage. He had their attention rapt, telling a story about two cookies he had once known. From the faces of the crowd, the names he had given these so called friends were just cover for the gossip he was spreading about the very cookies he was speaking to. She pushed to the front of the crowd, waiting for a pause in the excitement to get Opera Cookie’s attention. At the sight of her, he smiled, and waved to the crowd that he had somewhere to be. They were quickly engaged in conversation, stepping into a small side street.

“And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” Opera Cookie asked.

She considered for a moment. In this form, she had taken many names. Which was most suitable for the occasion? He was staring her down, a pensive look on his face. She had been silent for too long.

“Scorpion Grass Cookie,” she answered with a curtsy. “And of course, I am very familiar with you, Opera Cookie. They say you know everything there is to know about everyone.”

“I make it my business to know,” he replied. “My sister is in the toy shop right now, if you’d like to meet her.” They shared a grin.

“I would be honored.” She fell in step beside him.

Under his breath, Opera Cookie questioned her. “Why are you here now? You’ve been so busy up in the castle, I suppose. Candy- my sister misses you. Is he keeping you occupied up there? Or are you just enjoying yourself far too much?”

Shadow Milk bristled at that, but Scorpion Grass Cookie was more poised. She tittered, hiding her smile behind a gloved hand. “The former king is a very demanding host, shall we say. Were I to be a guest there, I would expect to be treated to breakfast every morning, and constant watchful eyes. He knows how to make his visitors feel very special.”

“Hmm.” Opera Cookie fixed a curious stare on her. “But today, he is… otherwise occupied?”

“I believe he is seeing to the issue of some malfunctioned machinery,” she offered.

“Ah. What a shame. I can only imagine who could have done such a thing.” His eyes shone with pride. Good. Let him take that in stride, if it meant he would continue doing his job well. “Have you come here with new instructions for my sister and I?” He held open the door to the toy shop for her.

“Only advice from one friend to another.” She stepped over the threshold, gently lifting her skirts. She turned heads when she entered, and she preened at the attention. At her appearance, Maple Syrup Cookie ceased whatever it was she had been doing and barreled towards her. As she reached Scorpion Grass Cookie, she seemed to remember herself, remember the ruse, and she coughed and pivoted quickly.

“Your dress is so pretty,” she crooned. “Did you make it yourself?”

There were too many eyes on them now. She laughed daintily, gently guiding her new friends outside. “I make all of my clothes myself, dear. A good artist always takes pride in her work.”

As a trio, they made their way into a crowded diner, and Scorpion Grass Cookie was quick to get them a table in the corner, away from prying eyes. She pulled a curtain of shadow over them, granting them a further layer of privacy.

“I want you to listen to me,” she hissed. “You have been biding your time, yes?” Twin expressions of fear met her. She needed to soften her approach. “You have done well at hiding, both of you. But the time has come to tip over the house of cards, as it were.” Laughter snuck into her voice, laughter that was very unbecoming of her. She pinched herself. “Take what you have learned about the people, their lives, their loves, their friendships, and twist it.”

“How so?” Opera Cookie leaned forward and rested his chin in his hands, a look of focus coming over him.

“They believe there is a spy in the Vanilla kingdom. That is not enough. I need them to believe that any one of them could be the spy. Can you do this?”

“I have ideas,” Maple Syrup Cookie stage whispered, eyes glittering with promise. Oh, this would not be good for anyone.

“I will take care of set dressing,” she promised them. “I have not spent enough time among the people to properly turn them against one another, but you have. I will take care of the stage, the props, the set design. Everything a good play needs.”

“You sound like you have ideas,” Opera Cookie chuckled.

“What else do you think I do while that foolish thief plays party host?”

“If the whispers of the staff are to be believed, you are playing quite the convincing guest.” No, that could not be right. Opera Cookie was staring at her again. “Shadow- Scorpion Grass Cookie, are you enjoying this ruse?”

“Ask him, ask him!” Maple Syrup tugged at Opera’s sleeve. Ask her what​?

“Has he done something to you?” He took a disinterested sip of his drink. “We have been keeping eyes on you, when we can. To follow in your footsteps. We have never seen you smile as much as you do when you are in the castle.”

“If that thief did something to make you-” Maple Syrup was seething in quiet rage.

“No, no.” Scorpion Grass Cookie smiled, but she could not help but notice her own internal turmoil. “Just playing the part. You know how dedicated he- how dedicated I am.” She waved a hand at them. “Your concern is noted, but you are not here because of your concern. You would do well to remember that.” They both shriveled under the criticism. “Now then. I believe it is time the Vanilla kingdom experienced some deceit. Can I trust you both to take full advantage?”

“You can always trust us,” Maple Syrup chirped. “Come on, Opera Cookie!”

“We had better go, before we are seen with you,” Opera Cookie said, still giving her a glare that she did not appreciate. “We await your cue, madame.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

He had been- no, Scorpion Grass Cookie had been too nice with them. She was too doting, too praising. They didn’t need that, they had always done their jobs perfectly well no matter how he spoke to them. He did not feel any sort of way about seeing them smile at her praise, nor did he feel… comforted by their presence. They were his followers, not his friends. He shed the alias, but not the disguise, feeling the curtains open again. It took precious time he did not want to waste for the fog to lift, the static to clear, his mind to feel truly his again. Taking up an alias had its benefits, giving him time to think and time to rest, but it had its detriments as well. Where was it she had taken them, again? And for how long? The details slipped through his fingers like sand in a massive hourglass. Time. He had very little time to act. The meeting that had torn Pure Vanilla away would be ending soon. He had minutes to set the stage, before his host wondered where he was.

Still wearing her face, he lifted his arms, drawing a great deal of energy forward. His fingers buzzed, he felt dizzy, and the world felt full of promise. With what emotional energy he had left, he stifled his manic laughter. No time.

A shadow descended over the Vanilla kingdom in seconds. A great storm that blotted out the sun. It had to be a storm. A shadow with no decoration would bear his signature too plainly. A storm could have been anyone’s work. It was better if this could not be tied back to him. The sun vanished behind thick black clouds, and relief washed over him. Now he could operate in the darkness, as he preferred. His work was not done yet, however. A storm was little more than fodder for small talk without some sort of showmanship. With the motions of a conductor, he closed his fists and threw his arms to the side.

One by one, little by little, lights began winking out. Each house went dark, and then the street lights, and then he turned just in time to see the palace go dark. That was his cue to leave. In the ensuing chaos, he knew where Pure Vanilla would look first. It was imperative that he was there on time.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

When Pure Vanilla arrived in Shadow Milk’s chambers, he was already waiting, a book in hand, disguise dispersed. At the approach of his other half, he yawned lazily and stretched, relishing the bewildered look that awarded him. There was anxiety there, and worry, but there was something else, as well, something he could not put a finger to. Pure Vanilla crossed the room in seconds, and Shadow Milk startled as he was pulled into a fierce grip.

“Are you alright?” He had not heard this much intensity in the healer’s voice in a while.

“Just peachy.” Shadow Milk battered his eyelashes. “And you? Seems something has you in a real fit. Did something happen?”

Too much, his internal compass hissed. It had come back now, and had no praise for him? How rude. Scorpion Grass Cookie would be hurt. You overplayed your hand. You know it.

“The power is out,” Pure Vanilla murmured. “I thought, perhaps-”

-you thought I had something to do with it?? Oh Nilly, I’m a little hurt, I must say!”

“It does feel slightly out of line for your modus operandi to miss the action, I suppose, but…” Pure Vanilla sighed. “You are right, I apologize. I should not have assumed.” He took a seat at a chair, his chair, the chair he always took in the mornings.

He has a chair now, his internal voice chuckled. Oh, just how deep have you fallen in?

“All is forgiven, Nilly.” Shadow Milk leaned back in his own chair and glanced at him through half-lidded eyes. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I believe so. We may be operating on candles for a while, but this kingdom has suffered far worse than a power outage.” A shadow passed over his face. Something foolish nagged at him, a childish desire to comfort and console. That desire needed to be quashed, stuffed in an envelope and slipped beneath a chipped blue door. It did not serve him. Why did it not leave his mind? “Will you be alright, Shadow Milk? You look distressed.” Pure Vanilla was nearly as good at slipping into a mask as he was. As quickly as the shadow had descended over his face, it was gone, replaced with a weary smile that did not reach his eyes.

“Just thinking. How long will it take to get the power back online?”

“That depends. I may require assistance from the Creme Republic—they understand this new technology far better than I, and have more engineers as their disposal. As soon as they can send someone, it should be fixed. Until then, we will use candles and sunlight and magic. We will make do, as we always have.” There was a slight shudder, just then, a near imperceptible movement that caught his eye. Fear. Pure Vanilla was afraid. Afraid of the dark? Afraid of him? “I… do not like leading through times like these.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his hands. “May I be perfectly candid with you, Shadow Milk Cookie?”

“You can always be honest with me.” He hid his apprehension behind a theatrical tone, but that nagging feeling inside of him was not leaving. His internal compass was coiling around his heart.

“Ever since the Dark Flour War… I dread the idea of leading through times like that again. I know this is merely a power outage, that it will eventually end, but it has put my mind on the future. This peace is only temporary. There is a storm brewing on the horizon, and I will have to lead through it, throne or not. They expect that of me. I do not know how I will manage that again. I want to embrace every part of my role as a hero, tumultuous though it is, but… I am still afraid.” Tears were brimming in his eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. He was carrying a tremendous burden, weighted by years of responsibility, and he… he was sharing that with a monster that had sworn to destroy him. He should feel proud. It was better than he could have possibly imagined.

Shadow Milk tasted jam. He had been biting his lip, and he realized now that he had broken skin. Pushing through the vice grip his internal compass had on his heart, he reached out a hand. “You’ll always have people by your side, at least. You never get to be alone for long.” He could not bring himself to say the words he really wanted to say.

Scare him. He felt, or supposed he imagined, the sharp threat of fangs against his heart. Stop playing. Yes, playing. That is what he was doing.

Pure Vanilla smiled at him. Really, genuinely smiled at him. “Thank you for saying that. I didn’t know you had it in you to be comforting.”

“I don’t,” Shadow Milk snarled. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Very well.” Another heavy sigh. “I will leave you to your reading, I apologize. I did not mean to intrude, I merely-” he breathed in deeply. “I was worried about you.” What could that pause have possibly meant? Pure Vanilla swept out of the room, leaving an empty void in the space he had occupied. The chair where he had sat was still indented. The room smelled of vanilla.

Shadow Milk slammed the book shut and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall, hard, and the spine was dented. He got up to recover it, chiding himself for the outburst, and then he turned and saw his reflection in the mirror. His face was consumed by shadows. Only his eyes were visible, wide and sharp, glowing unnaturally. His other eyes, the ones in his hair, were wavering, not holding their form. Pure Vanilla would learn before too long that this power outage had been his doing. Right now, his followers were spreading deceit, turning the citizens against each other and breaking apart years of trust. In that same moment, he was gaining the trust of his enemy. His other half. His soulmate. His undoing. Laughter overtook him. He was in his element now, sowing discord and burning bridges. This was where he thrived, and it was where he belonged. So why did the laughter keep getting stuck in his throat, turning into a choked, pained sound? He drew back a fist and slammed it into the mirror, savoring the pain of glass under his skin, the sharp sound of cracks forming in the surface. Jam beaded on his hands, and he did not bother to remove the glass. It would heal on its own. This body was remarkably resistant.

In the aftermath, he seethed at his reflection, broken into pieces.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sunlight created many pockets of shadow in the large castle library where Shadow Milk Cookie could lurk, pretending to pay attention as Pure Vanilla prattled on. It was the most torturous part of this ruse, listening to his relentlessly soft and gentle voice as he described texts that Shadow Milk was well familiar with. Occasionally, he would pick up a book and skim it, only to scoff and place it back where he found it. Ridiculous. Was this what passed for good non-fiction these days? Some part of him found this amusing, tugged him towards another aisle, demanded that he search through a few books for authors he recognized. Who was he to not oblige his internal monologue? He was so entirely absorbed in his own world that he failed to notice when Pure Vanilla Cookie fell behind. It only hit him when he realized it was too quiet, that the comfortable drone—no, the annoying prattle—of his voice had died down. Shadow Milk was alone among the tomes, some small part of him feeling deja vu. This wouldn’t do. When he was alone for too long, he could hear his former self, delivering an endless monologue.

Books have a sound to them. Silence in a library sounds different than silence in a valley, or a canyon, or a spire. The silence in the royal library was stifling, nothingness bouncing off of nothingness. There was nothing to fill the air as Shadow Milk floated through rows of shelves, hunting for a shepherd. Under his breath, he began to mutter, complaining about his current situation. True, he reasoned with himself, this was less work than building an entire set and a story line, but this was not where he shined.

No, his internal voice reminded him. You belong in the limelight, soaking up so much attention you choke on it. You command an audience. You don’t belong in a library, seeking the attention of a thief who was foolish enough to house you.

He found his prey sitting at a long table with his cheek pressed to the page of a book. No doubt he had been leaning in close to read the fine print, and sleep had taken over. He was reminded of the moment a few nights ago when he had been foolish enough to be vulnerable around the former king. Foolish hero. Never taking the time to rest, never taking care of himself. These feelings of endearment were not wise. It sullied the illusion. A sweet lie was better than painful truth. Pure Vanilla would not like to see what his genuine, honest affection looked like. “Friends.” What a joke. He settled on the table where Pure Vanilla slept, and moved to start stacking books on his head. He didn’t get a chance, however, as Pure Vanilla roused, sleep still clouding his vision.

“Hello, bluebird,” he mumbled. So so sleepy. And Black Raisin thought Pure Vanilla could hurt him. What a laugh.

“Have nice dreams, sleeping beauty?” Shadow Milk leaned back. He set the book down and slid it out of the way in the same movement. “Dream about anyone in particular?”

“Hmm.” Pure Vanilla replied with a noncommittal sound. His shoulders were tense. Had that happened when Shadow Milk arrived? Or had he been tense before? Something tugged at his chest—he should have paid more attention when he arrived. Witches. He was getting too comfortable. Far too comfortable.

“It’s not good to carry all your tension in your shoulders, you know.” Shadow Milk poked his chest. In return, Pure Vanilla gazed at him softly, and some of the tension melted away.

“Thank you,” he said, sounding genuinely relieved. “I am glad someone is around to point these things out.” Was that… a lie? It had to be, surely. And yet… his expression was so earnest, glancing up through pale eyelashes. His eyes caught the nearly setting sun perfectly, twin pools of light. Shadow Milk felt something boiling in his jam that must have anger. Only anger could bring that much warmth to his face.

“So… who was the lucky subject of your dreams?” He leaned in closely. The voice of an entertainer was always easy to slip into. He was not interested in presenting as himself right now. “Come on, spill, you can tell your good friend Shadow Milk anything! Who ever could the lucky cookie be?”

“I was dreaming about your past,” Pure Vanilla replied mildly.

"My- what? Silly sunflower. What sweet lies is your mind telling you?" Now that was something. Well, well. Pure Vanilla, lying to scare him? That was something new. His soul jam felt searing hot. Something was forcing his hands to tremble. He hovered above the table. If he poked the bear enough, surely the gentle healer persona would fade away and the awakened hero would emerge. Maybe then he would see if Pure Vanilla could hurt him. That would hardly be a satisfying conclusion to this story, and yet… In any case, what would he know about Shadow Milk’s past? What could he possibly know? How dare he attempt to dredge that version of him up again? The Fount of Knowledge was gone, locked behind a blue door buried deep in his mind.

"When I was in the spire, I saw..." Pure Vanilla glanced at him, and his eyes softened. Shadow Milk shrunk away. If he was going to be watched, it would be on his terms.

“You didn’t see anything.” Oh, that was too angry. He chided himself. It was risky, displaying too much emotion externally. Hardly a sign of the recovery he was pretending to enact. Weeks of bottling up every single thought that put his ruse at risk had taken their toll, it seemed. Things were beginning to spill out. The injuries in his hand had yet to heal fully, and the dough still stung if he moved it too quickly. Pure Vanilla’s gaze was unfaltering and gentle, infuriatingly so. That gaze pinned him where he was.

"You didn't deserve to be scorned by your creators, Shadow Milk. Regardless of your actions afterwards... not all of which I cannot say I approve of, you did not deserve that." Why would he say that? How dare he say that? Unprompted, no less? Had he no sense of decency, of decorum? No consideration for how that felt?

"What?" Shadow Milk was being pulled in all directions. His physical form was taffy, churned in circles until it became something other. Every snide comment, every veiled moment of aggression, every moment of anger from the past weeks, they all came rising to the surface. He was losing control. The shadows in the room pooled around him, eager to answer his call. "How dare you speak about- I don't know what you think you saw, but-"

"I saw you," Pure Vanilla replied. His tone was so gentle. So earnest. It was sickening.

"Shut UP." The dam broke. He drew a fist back and slammed it into the table, which began to crack and splinter, leaving splinters of wood in his dough. The fresh injuries split open, and jam spilled over his fingers. Pain brought clarity with it. This was it. Enough. No more. The feelings that had been boiling up inside him began to spill out, burning his tongue. "Shut up, shut up, shut up. How dare you? You don’t know anything about me. I can be so much worse than you think I am. Stop smiling at me like you know me, like you see anything in me worth smiling about-”

“Shadow Milk Cookie.” He felt himself cross over a threshold, and a chill crept into his dough. Point of no return. Go all in, do not pass go. Another attack went over Pure Vanilla Cookie's shoulder and shattered a vase behind him. Darkness pooled around Shadow Milk’s hands, lashing out at everything in sight. The jam was beginning to spill down his arms. So rarely did he attack directly, but in the moment, he just wanted to inflict something on his environment.

“You don’t know anything. You are nothing.” He wasn’t sure whether he was talking to Pure Vanilla or himself. Break it, tear it apart. Make something new of it. Another vase was destroyed in a flurry of shadows, with a loud and crisp sound that stung his ears. Sharp, broken ceramic spilled across the floor. The shadows around him coalesced into an attack which narrowly missed Pure Vanilla’s face and instead slammed into a couch, ripping the cushions apart. Not good enough. Another blow shattered a window. Again, and again, and again. Weeks of pent of fury tore themselves free.

“That’s enough.” Pure Vanilla Cookie’s voice was sharp, and it cut through the static that was crowding his mind. Shadow Milk ignored the command. With a manic grin splitting his face, he raised both fists and brought them down on the table, fully splitting it in two. When the smoke cleared, he found he had little strength left. He pulled back his arms for one final attack, but when he began to swing them forward, something held them in place. Light flooded his peripheral vision, so that all he could clearly see was Pure Vanilla Cookie.

“I SAID,” Pure Vanilla repeated, with insistent, palpable fury on his face. “That is ENOUGH.” Shadow Milk’s arms pulled him upwards into the air. Something burned into his wrists. He struggled, a moth caught in a spider’s web. Golden light wound around his wrists, holding his arms in the air and keeping him in place. He had become one of the puppets he so loved using to sow chaos. What a joke. What a laugh. His captor took a deep breath in.

"Why are you still here?" Pure Vanilla questioned. There was… something, to his tone. An edge. A hidden coldness. Patience, but no gentleness. "I… I thought at first that you lied about why you were here because you believed I would not help you if you were honest with me, and I was willing to entertain that ruse because I... Perhaps I was merely foolish. But now… you have destroyed my library, you have attacked me, and I am forced to reckon with the idea that you only came here to hurt me.” There was… a growl in his voice. Something low and warning, like a sheepdog smelling something on the wind. Something that said this is not the worst I can do. “So why did it take you so long to lash out? Were you waiting until I trusted you, so that you could savor my betrayal?"

He knew?

He knew.

Shadow Milk thrashed against the marionette strings. How long? How long had he known? Had this entire game been pointless? A pursuit for his autonomy, ruined by an audience that had been pulling the strings from the moment he stepped inside? He was barely even passable as a person at this point, just a seething mass of shadows. He had been lied to.

He sees you as a monster, the voice inside him reasoned. He’s been manipulating you, right from the start. Bitter truths. They always hurt. Why delay the inevitable? Just be what he wants you to. Make this easy for both of you. His internal compass, sharp and protective, cut through the fog in his mind and drove him forward.

"You haven't landed any of your attacks,” Pure Vanilla mused. “It's almost as if you’re not trying." For a brief moment, he sounded like the Truthless Recluse. Cold. Calculating. Mocking. "Whatever you came here for, you have not found it." Shadow Milk felt something sharp against his dough, putting off an immense amount of heat. Pure Vanilla’s staff, glowing impossibly bright, was pressed against his chest. Light swelled up inside of it, burning his eyes and searing into his dough. A warning, and a promise. Pure Vanilla spoke softly. "So…Why are you still here?"

"I-" Shadow Milk found he didn’t have an answer. Where had his internal compass gone? He reached out into the dark, but no one came. It was only him. He let go completely and let the strings hold him in place. It burned. They cut into his dough. In that moment, he knew this was not as far as Pure Vanilla could take it. This was a promise, not an attack. All of his blustering and showboating had led him into the spider’s web. Again, he tried to explain, to say something, but only vague sounds came out. The words were simply not there. Why was he still there?

Shadow Milk leaned forward, straining against the strings, and Pure Vanilla’s staff pressed into his soul jam, radiating all of that light and warmth. He felt a twinge of pain, just a momentary crack. Nothing he could not handle.

“I want you to answer me honestly,” Pure Vanilla Cookie said, pulling back his staff, sitting on the broken table below him. And oh, wasn’t that rich. Just like Shadow Milk had demanded in the spire. Honesty. “Why haven’t you attempted to steal my soul jam? That is why you really came, isn’t it?”

What. How. He had been so careful, so patient, had he really been that obvious? He had put in so much effort, forced himself to behave, spent time with Pure Vanilla’s friends, helped out around town—and he hadn’t enjoyed any of it, he insisted to himself. Had one of his aliases let something slip when he was too in character to notice? How on earth had he-

“You did not give anything away,” Pure Vanilla murmured, as though he had read his mind. He glanced up to make eye contact. “Your lie was good. If you had come to me in my younger years, I would have fallen for it. It was just the sort of thing I would have rushed to help with.” Was that… meant to make him feel better? “No, I knew why you were here because I could not think of any other reason you would return. You were so harsh in your rejection of my friendship.” Shadow Milk Cookie felt some of his energy returning, and he pulled against the threads again, only to wince at the pain. “And…” he sighed. “You told me you were going to do this.”

No, that couldn’t be right. A great magician never revealed his secrets.

“In the spire, you told me my kindness would be my undoing.” Pure Vanilla Cookie took a deep breath. Shadow Milk noticed that as he breathed, he flexed his hands and closed each finger into a fist one at a time. His patience was infuriating. It was enviable. “You had your chance today to make good on that promise, but you failed to strike me. Several days ago, you had the opportunity to attack White Lily Cookie, who stands opposed to you. You did not. I know you are perfectly capable of hurting me. I know you want to. Yet you didn’t. So tell me, Shadow Milk Cookie. Why are you still here?”

“I don’t know.” It was the honest answer, and it was all he could choke out. The threads around his wrists vanished, and he fell forward, landing on his knees on the table. His dough burned. There was a splintering, fracturing pain in his soul jam. Rage boiled inside of him. This was all kinds of wrong—played for a fool twice by the cookie of truth. It was a sick joke. It was impressive. Laughter spilled out of him. He didn’t know if he should be angry, or if he should be flattered that Pure Vanilla had put in so much effort on his behalf. But still… his dough burned, and his hands ached. So Shadow Milk Cookie did something that made the Fount of Knowledge smile with approval. He reached out a battered hand over the distance between them. Even more surprising, Pure Vanilla took it.

“Thank you for answering me honestly.” He pulled Shadow Milk closer. A word seemed to hang just behind his lips, sealed away. And he admonished Shadow Milk for building walls. “I am sincerely sorry I had to resort to this to stop you. I hope you are not in too much pain.” Too little too late, and yet the gentle reassurance brought him immeasurable comfort.

Shadow Milk leaned into the touch like it was his only light in the dark. He shut his eyes and savored the point of contact. For a brief moment, he felt like some former version of himself who had been so, so desperate to be seen. His physical form started to right itself, settling back into something that was recognizably a person. Pure Vanilla’s hands were warm, ministering to the places on his wrists where the thread had cut into him. Of course. Healing the very injuries he had inflicted.

“When did you injure your hand?” So clinical. “This did not happen when you struck the table, I am certain of that.”

“The mirror you gave me was… defective. I had to-”

Pure Vanilla turned to stone beneath his touch. His hand tensed and pulled away, taking with it warmth and comfort, and Shadow Milk opened his eyes to see the look on his face. Oh, no. Oh no, no no. Pure Vanilla cookie was staring at him with a sudden awareness, like he’d just seen Shadow Milk’s hand in a game of cards. No, that wasn’t quite right. Pure Vanilla Cookie’s eyes were wide, and a shadow hung over his face. He looked afraid. He looked angry.

And then it hit him. The show was over. He had no incentive to play along with Pure Vanilla’s games anymore, and they both know it. All of his rage, all of his pent up emotions, they had spilled out over one single remark. He was not nearly as good at restraining himself as he liked to think. A tremor wracked his hand, and he scrambled away like he’d touched a flame. Pure Vanilla had known this whole time. He had been using it against him. And Shadow Milk had not known. He had had no idea. He had been betrayed, manipulated, bested at his own game. Pure Vanilla Cookie had every right to be scared. The one trump card he had, his only recourse to reign Shadow Milk in, and now they both knew it was a lie.

With the last of his energy, Shadow Milk summoned a portal and threw himself through it. The last thing he saw was the look of anger and fear on Pure Vanilla’s face.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A single question plagued him as he recovered his energy, and it really should have been a simple one.

Why had Pure Vanilla let him stay? He paced back and forth in midair, chewing on his lip. The portal he had flung himself into dropped him into a rather ostentatious bedroom with a large canopy bed and an overcrowded desk, over which he hovered. There was no point in hiding his magic at this point. He was sure whoever normally slept here wouldn’t mind. The truth eluded him, evading this way and that every time he thought he had his mind around the shape of it. The one time he wanted the truth, and it flitted away from him.

Why are you still here​? Why not? Where else was there for him to go? His followers were here, in the Vanilla kingdom, still carrying out his plans. The one thing he truly wanted was here, in this castle. If the game was up, all he had to do was start a new one.

What is it that you want? The voice inside him seemed almost to sneer. Had his internal monologue always been so vicious?

“I want my Soul Jam back,” he hissed. It echoed off the tiled walls. “Stop bothering me.”

Liar.

“Shadow Milk Cookie?” A new voice, this one outside of his head, rising up from the ground below. Curse it all. Pure Vanilla would find him like this, still crafting a new mask. He took a deep breath.

“Oh there you are!’ Shadow Milk spun around, a Cheshire grin splitting his face. “I was waiting for you to show up.” It rang slightly more true than he wanted to admit. He needed to pivot, fast. “I’ve been planning a new game. Care to play?”

“Shadow Milk. When I came in,” Pure Vanilla stepped forward, blinking up at him, angling his staff upwards, “you were talking to someone-”

“A great actor must practice his lines, silly.” He swooped down to Pure Vanilla’s level, spinning his staff in one hand. The room was transformed, blue curtains covering the grand windows and shadows draping themselves over every corner. If his ruse was up, he was going to take full advantage of the use of his magic. He ignored the ache in his soul jam. “So, are you gonna play?” He turned his head to the side, and the lock in the door clicked shut. “Not that you have a choice, of course. I have a pop quiz for the star pupil, and I do hope you’ve been studying!” Ordinarily, he would take great joy in the look of anxiety spoiling Pure Vanilla’s perfect face, but now he only felt poison tearing through his gut. This was not fun. This hurt. But it needed to happen.

“Okay,” Pure Vanilla replied. His shoulders slumped, and he sat on the edge of the bed. He had given in, but Shadow Milk didn’t feel like he had won. “If I play along, will you return my bedroom to its usual state?”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we!” Ah, so that was where his portal had dropped him. He swore under his breath, wondering which of his internal monologues had decided this was a good place for him to end up. Perhaps the Fount of Knowledge had a sense of humor. Either way, there was a game to be played. From the shadows, he created a stage, using the faint light from the window to illuminate new puppets. “First question of your pop quiz starts now. Have you been taking notes?”

Pure Vanilla Cookie gave him an odd look. Oh, how he hated that.

You are not a puzzle to be solved, the snake reminded him.

“Question one!” A shape emerged in front of his makeshift light box. Spindly legs and beady eyes that winked in the dim light. “A scorpion wishes to cross a river. The tides are high and fierce, and he knows that if he tries to swim, he will surely drown.” The shadows twisted and convulsed to created a raging current, which swept through the room and curved around Pure Vanilla’s back. “Lucky for him, he spots a frog on the shore, preparing to cross.” Another puppet, soft and vulnerable. “The scorpion begs the frog to take him across the river. He swears that he will behave. He swears that he needs help. What does the frog say?” He leaned over, showing all of his teeth. “I’m looking for some audience participation here, Nilly, you’re gonna have to give me something!”

“The frog accepts,” came the reply. “He offers to help.” Pure Vanilla’s brow was furrowed, and he squinted in the darkness.

“Cooooorrect!” A buzzer rang somewhere in the room. “We’ve got ourselves a very dedicated student here, don’t we? Now, question two.” The two puppets danced into the murky current, casting strange shadows onto the ceiling. “The frog carries the scorpion into the river, feeling the weight on his back as he pushes against the tide. In the center of the river, where the current is the strongest, and there is nowhere for the frog to go, what does the scorpion do? Anyone? Any takers?” He swung his staff around the room, gesturing to invisible audience members.

“He strikes.” Two words. Pure Vanilla’s voice was so soft, it hardly cut through the noise of the bell ringing again.

“That’s right! You’re two for two here, look at you go! You must have really studied the course material, good for you! Are you sure you don’t want to find out what happens if you miss a question?”

“What is your next question, Shadow Milk Cookie?” So formal.

“The frog feels the venom course through his body. It erodes his skin and he feels himself beginning to sink, taken away by the very tides that bore him into the world. What are the last words of his executioner?” Shadow Milk was in front of Pure Vanilla now, face stinging from holding the same grin in place for so long.

“I couldn’t help it,” Pure Vanilla replied. He was developing a rather pensive look that was driving a stake into Shadow Milk’s chest. “It was only in my nature.”

“That’s three for three! Winner, winner, chicken dinner! Folks, I think that’s a new world record!” The puppet show vanished, but the darkness did not recede. “You really know your stuff, old man!”

“Do you know the older version of the fable?”

“What?”

“The fable you told me. Surely you would know this. There is a version of that story where it is a turtle, not a frog, who offers to help the scorpion cross the river.”

“What’s your point?” His smile drops.

“In that version of the story, the scorpion’s sting cannot pierce the turtle’s shell. Though it is in his nature to strike, his target is one that can defend itself. Instead, the scorpion is carried to safety.” Pure Vanilla’s eyes were on him, now, lights in the darkness. He was reminded of a predator. Something inside of him begged for this discussion to end. He wanted Pure Vanilla to strike him, to cut him down, to end this conversation. “What was the point of this exercise, Shadow Milk? If you wanted to scare me, all of this illusion was hardly necessary. You’ve succeeded. I am afraid. What now?”

“I-” He had succeeded, hadn’t he? Where was his sense of pride? Why was he faltering now?

What was the point of all of this?

“Don’t you start,” Shadow Milk snarled. “Don’t start with me.”

“Who are you talking to?” Pure Vanilla asked.

“Why are you here?” He turned on his heel and moved away from Pure Vanilla’s scrutiny. “Why did you follow me when I left?”

You know why. You’re a threat. He needed to deal with you.

“You’re perfectly able to fight me. You’ve made that clear. You knew I was lying when I came to your home, why would you let me in? Sloppy, Nills, I gotta say. Veeery sloppy.”

He wanted you to let your guard down.

“You were trying to play me back, weren’t you? Ohhh, that’s something, isn’t it? The paragon of truth, pulling a long con on the beast of deceit? And you like to think you’re soooo above it all.”

You were foolish enough to trust him.

“Shut up. Stay out of this. You know, I actually believed that you had faith in me! Can you imagine? I thought you were being honest with me!” Laughter bubbled out, and it burned the back of his throat. “I thought you really meant it when you said you wanted to be friends.”

“I did. I do.”

Why?

“Why??” Shadow Milk whipped around to see the look on Pure Vanilla’s face, and found nothing but complete sincerity. “Why are you here? You knew I was lying, you knew I could have easily hurt you, you watched me destroy your library-” -something gnawed at him again. Not guilt, no, but… something. It couldn’t be guilt. “And you’re still. Here. Why?” He could feel something tearing apart his mind, trying to rise to the surface. That angry, bitter internal compass that told him to strike and keep himself safe. “You- oh. No, no.” That couldn’t be it. It couldn’t be. “You… you really do believe in me, don’t you?” The greatest joke of all, and he hadn’t even come up with it. The universe had such a beautiful sense of irony. “You knew I was lying when I came here, but you… you genuinely had faith that I would get better. You were willing to let me destroy your palace, mock you, harass you, because you genuinely had faith in me.”

Old fool.

“No,” Pure Vanilla said.

“No?”

“I do want to be your friend. I stand by that. And I do want to believe you can get better. Both, selfishly, because I may need your help in what is to come-” Shadow Milk let out a soft, throaty laugh at that, “-but also because I saw something in you. I understand you, and you understand me on a level no one else has. I enjoy your company, and I wish to see you at your best. However. I will not let you harass and mock me. Have I not made it clear I will not tolerate that behavior? You have shown yourself repeatedly to be quite resistant to help of any sort.” His voice was raised. There was something dangerous in his eyes. There was also something sad. He could deal with the anger, had relished it not so long ago, but the sadness filled him with an ache he could not abide. “I’m not sure how many layers I would have to peel back to really see you, but I hardly think you would let me do so willingly.”

“Then why? If you know I’m never going to let you, why let me stay? Why chase me down?” Something angry curled up around his heart and sunk in its fangs. His soul jam ached. He remembered the mirror in his room.

“I can’t help it.” Was the reply. “It is simply in my nature.” It seemed to take tremendous effort to keep his tone even, and Shadow Milk appreciated how much of a mask Pure Vanilla was wearing. His patience may not have been a facade, but his gentleness certainly took effort to maintain. Shadow Milk began to laugh, taken over by hysterics. This was the richest joke he’d ever been told. Tears of mirth begged to leave his eyes, but he had long since forgone the ability to cry. His other eyes wavered and wobbled, and he could not see from them. The laughter did not stop coming until it was splitting his sides and he was laying on the bed, shaking. He hurt. His throat hurt, his sides hurt.

When the mania died down, he was left in a partially humanoid form with the eyes in his hair still unformed. He tried to summon a portal, but the spell fizzled out at the source. Pure Vanilla gazed down at him, cold and compassionate at the same time. The crack in his soul jam grew.

“I-” Shadow Milk took a deep breath in. “I’m sorry I destroyed your library.”

What angle is this?

“Mm.” A hand brushed his shoulder. He flinched, but did not move away. “I can’t say I forgive you, yet, but… it can be fixed. Will you let me help you fix it?”

Chapter Text

Shadow Milk slept that night. He had thoroughly spent his magic, and despite being an immortal being with no need for sleep, it was all he could think do do. His sleep was dreamless, uneventful. Just a blink of the eyes, and then the rising sun. That was a small mercy. Dreams were illusions, and they were illusions he had no control over. As such, dreams were not to be trusted. So, he slept. And when he woke, he remembered. He was not alone. The blankets that embraced him were not his own—they were white, smelled of vanilla, freshly washed. This was not his room. Sleep had a wicked and cruel sense of humor. He stirred, pushing himself up to a sitting position. His soul jam ached. He pulled some of his hair over his shoulder, running his fingers through the ink and giving his other eyes a better view. It was true, then. A small, hair-thin crack along the surface of his soul jam, barely visible if he had not known to look for it. That had not been his imagination, then. Pure Vanilla had cracked his soul jam.

He did not want to think about what would happen if that crack were to grow.

“You’re awake.” A soft, gentle acknowledgment from across the room. Pure Vanilla sat on a plush armchair, a book in hand. His hair was unkempt, falling around his face like curtains. The book was well worn, the pages dog eared and weathered. A pile of similarly worn books was teetering on the edge of the table beside him. Dark circles were forming under his eyes.

“You didn’t sleep.” It wasn’t a question.

“There was a snake in my bed.” Was that… a joke? Jokes, from Pure Vanilla? He smiled, but the gaze that met him was not warm.

“That’s-” Shadow Milk sighed. That was fair enough, he supposed. “Okay. Fine.” He pulled himself out of the covers and floated into the air. “How long have you been awake, Nilly?”

His other half shut his book and did not reply.

“Is this Pure Vanilla I’m talking to? Or the Truthless Recluse?” Shadow Milk hovered closer, getting nose to nose with him. At this proximity, he could see his own reflection in Pure Vanilla’s eyes, and he used them as mirrors to adjust his facial expression. Pure Vanilla gave him a very curious look, raising his eyebrows.

“They are one and the same, Shadow Milk Cookie.” He tilted his head to the side. “Are you asking if I am upset with you?”

“No, I- Yeahh. Sure. That’s what I’m asking.”

“Then yes.” He set the book on the table to his side. “I am. But I do not think I will be by the time we are done fixing things.” Pure Vanilla turned, made direct eye contact. Their faces were so close. “I was not expecting you to still be here, I will be candid.” Was that… hope? A small ember of warmth in his tone that he was clearly endeavoring to put out.

“Yeah, well, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He laughed mirthlessly. It was… partially true. Part of him hoped that maybe his continued presence would be enough to sway Pure Vanilla into joining him again. Most of him knew that was a fool’s dream. The other half of his soul jam was the least of his worries at the moment.

“In that case, shall we go to the library? I would like to start cleaning.”

Perhaps, if he could convince Pure Vanilla that he was honest about rehabilitation, he would be able to snatch it away, but that would hardly fix the damage to his own soul jam. No, until he could fix this handicap, he was going to have to play a new role. He could not have Pure Vanilla knowing he was weakened. This fracture—he knew the soul jams had been shattered in the past, that their wielders had managed to reclaim them in spite of that fact. But even so, Pure Vanilla had become a shell of his former self without the light of truth. He knew this. He would not be reduced to some paltry performer of party tricks, forgetting his former name and glory. No. He was going to fix this. And he knew where to start.

“Ah, ah ah.” Shadow Milk shook a finger in front of him. “We have a routine, I’m not letting you skip out on breakfast with your bluebird.” The pet name left a sour taste in his mouth. So… domestic. Pure Vanilla slowly blinked at him. “I’ll be back. Don’t agonize too much over my absence.”

Perhaps he was playing it up a bit too much. Pure Vanilla was still angry with him, and he could not pretend that his outburst in the library had not happened at all. In the spire, he could have, easily could have claimed it was all some strange dream and swept away the evidence. Here, in this cage he had flown into, he had to clean up his own messes. It was an unfamiliar feeling. Even the Fount had not had to reckon with such things, not until it was far too late. No, it had been the lack of consequences for deceit that had so thoroughly fascinated him. But here, his actions were watched. Here, any lie, any deceit, it all had layers upon layers of consequences. A delicate, fragile house of cards that could tip over easily. Pure Vanilla had known he was lying, had let him build his cards on top of an unstable surface, knowing it could fall. He would not be so foolish again.

It was… embarrassing, how long it took him to find the kitchen. He had wandered these halls by night many times, but navigating through the business of the morning was an entirely different beast. Avoiding prying eyes, keeping clear of any crows, trying to catch the morning gossip, it was all so distracting. By the time he found the kitchen, he learned that Black Raisin Cookie had not yet found the spy, and had entrusted a rather skeptical Espresso Cookie with helping her look. Oh, now that should be interesting. He hoped they weren’t planning to lure in the spy. Candy Apple Cookie on caffeine was not a fate he would wish on even his worst enemy. He sighed. Of course, he got the uninteresting role. Black Sapphire giving that stuffy academic the runaround would surely be a sight worth seeing. But no. He was on hero watch.

No one is making you do this, the snake hissed, taking great pleasure in his frustration. You could always attack him and be done with it.

No, Shadow Milk thought. Not with this crack in his soul jam. Push it too far, and the crack would grow. He had been inside Pure Vanilla’s mind, he knew what could happen to a cookie who had their soul jam shattered. That was not going to be him.

He did this to you. It was his magic. But Shadow Milk had been the one to lean into the staff. It had not been Pure Vanilla’s intent to destabilize him thus. He was a healer. He had wanted to stop Shadow Milk, not hurt him. With how quickly he had tended to Shadow Milk’s wrists afterwards, it was clear that injury was the farthest thing from his intentions. No, Pure Vanilla simply had not learned full control over his new powers yet.

Why are you granting him any clemency? The snake inside him snarled. That was… an interesting question. He drifted past a painting of Pure Vanilla in his younger years, still a hero with a kingdom to build, and averted his eyes quickly. Even by the paintings and the statues, he felt watched. Artists always had the ability to bring out the features that unsettled him the most. Musing on the snake’s question, he supposed he didn’t have a good answer. If he expressed hurt or betrayal at his injuries… it was likely Pure Vanilla would be wracked with guilt. He was not a cookie who was often confident in his actions. That seed of guilt would be so easy to plant.

So do it. No. He wanted to see where this went. Avoiding the gaze of statues and paintings, he returned to Pure Vanilla’s chambers nearly an hour later with a tray in hand.

“Could you not have opened a portal to the kitchens?” Pure Vanilla asked quizzically. He had a book in hand, a different one than he had been reading before, and his fingers stilled in their examination of the braille text.

“I needed to grace the people with my presence. It’s called character work, have you heard of it?” He set the tray down on the side table. There were two plates. He shrunk back under the very strange look Pure Vanilla was giving him. There was not another chair in Pure Vanilla’s room, so he sat in midair, thanking his creators (for once in his very long life) that his ability to float took so little energy.

“Are you comfortable?”

“I’m comfortable anywhere if I’m around my other half,” he crooned.

“If you’re trying to mollify me, flattery will only get you so far,” Pure Vanilla murmured, reaching for a scone from the tray. He took a bite and shut his eyes, savoring the rich flavor. Good. Shadow Milk had taken the time to make intentional selections. They had spent enough mornings together for him to gather crucial intel about Pure Vanilla’s tastes. Several bites later, he concluded, “...the baked goods might help, however.” Shadow Milk snickered around a mouthful of muffin. “I am still unhappy with you.” He set aside the last few bites of the scone, which were quickly snatched up by blue hands. “But thank you for eating breakfast with me.”

As he stood, Shadow Milk noticed that he wavered less, more sure of his footing. In the spire, it had seemed that he adjusted any time he stood, needing to right himself. That dizziness was gone. He looked properly energized, a new brightness in his eyes. There was more color to his cheeks. How odd. Shadow Milk had come to the Vanilla kingdom presenting himself as a bluebird needing to be nursed back to health, but it was his counterpart who had fared the better, of the two of them. That had not been his intention. Pure Vanilla cleared his throat, and he realized he was staring.

“To the library then, my liege?”

“You are being uncharacteristically sweet. This is Shadow Milk Cookie I am speaking to, no?” Pure Vanilla reached for his staff and stepped towards the door.

“What an odd question.” He fixed Pure Vanilla with a sufficiently threatening glower.

“It- I was joking, Shadow Milk Cookie.” Pure Vanilla tilted his head at him again. So like a sheepdog. Did it make more sense if he listened to it at a 45 degree angle?

“You have a sense of humor?” He snorted.

“Hmm. Are you coming?” Pure Vanilla was already walking out, so Shadow Milk sighed and followed obediently. It wasn’t as though he had anything better to be doing.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Have you ever heard the story of Courtier Cookie?” Pure Vanilla was gesturing with a broom.

“I have heard a lot of stories, Vanilly.”

“That isn’t an answer, Shadow Milk Cookie.” Pure Vanilla was still being cold with him. That was more than fair, he supposed, but he didn’t like it. It reminded him of the Truthless Recluse. He was finding he did not prefer that version of Pure Vanilla Cookie. The version who had sworn he would be with him forever. The version who had lied to him.

“I have,” he replied. The blue door in his mind was creaking perilously. He busied his hands with a vase, sweeping the shards into a small trash bin. It could be fixed with magic, he had suggested as much, but Pure Vanilla had given him a disapproving look. Apparently, it would sink in better if the things he ruined were replaced anew. Remaking them would ‘erase the damage.’ What a strange principle. “But tell it to me, anyways.” The drone of Pure Vanilla’s voice was… it distracted him from the work.. That was all.

“It’s an old fable, told by a famous orator. Courtier Cookie was in the employ of a very powerful king. He was an advisor, a confidant, and a sycophant. Though he was dutiful about his work, he always had his sights set higher.” Ah, he was getting Pure Vanilla the teacher today. He moved the bin aside and continued sweeping up the shards. “He did not, however, keep these ambitions to himself, as many in his position would do. He spoke to the king directly, as a matter of fact. He was open and plain about his ambitions and desires.”

“This is feeling targeted,” Shadow Milk interrupted. Pure Vanilla stopped and gave him a withering glare that said ‘I’ll wait.’

“Anything other comments?” A shake of the head. “Thank you. Courtier Cookie went to the king, and described his ambitions plainly. The king laughed and asked how he’d like to try being king, if he so envied the luxury that came with the position. Incredulously, Courtier Cookie agreed.” Pure Vanilla continued his sweeping. “The next morning, he was awoken with trumpets and the finest food you can imagine. A rug was laid out before him, so he didn’t walk on the plain floor. He was showered with perfumes, constantly attended. And they led him to the throne room.”

Was there a point to this? He supposed it was no different to his outburst a few days ago, but at least he had the decency to create visual aids. Briefly, he toyed with the idea of simply leaving. But… no. It would take far too much out of him to create a portal, and he had already risked some damage with his little puppet show. If he tried to slip into the shadows, he would be caught. He was stuck here. Shadow Milk set down his broom and sat on a couch, giving Pure Vanilla his full, undivided attention.

“Courtier Cookie took his seat on the throne, but quickly realized something was wrong. There was a feeling of dread that settled over him, and it would not leave. Finally, he looked up.” Pure Vanilla noticed how rapt his audience was, and smiled to himself. Was he proud of himself? Ohhh, the humble healer had an ego in him yet. “Above the throne, by a thin floss cord, a sword was hung. In his mind’s eye, he could see the thread snapping at any moment, with little more than a breeze.” He set the broom against the table. “Courtier Cookie begged the king to let him abdicate his position. He did not want the luxury if he had to endure the threat that came with it.” With his story concluded, Pure Vanilla sat on the couch next to his temporary pupil.

“May I speak?” Shadow Milk crossed his arms.

“Hmm.”

“Am I the Courtier Cookie, in our situation, or am I the sword?” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands and batting his eyes. Pure Vanilla chuckled. It was the first genuine laugh he had managed to draw out of his other half all day.

“Which do you feel you are?” What an infuriating answer.

“I am not one of your students,” he grouched. “You can’t get me to answer your test questions.”

“Can’t I? You’re still here, after all.” Fair. Fair play. Breaking the window and making an escape seemed like a very appealing idea.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The next day of cleaning, they focused on the bookshelves. Pure Vanilla seemed far more melancholy about these. The books were largely unscathed, but the shelves were old, a piece of his kingdom that had held true through the years. Carvings whose makers were gone now, which could not be remade. The techniques to craft them were not taught anymore. If he scoured his mind, knocked politely on the blue door, perhaps he would have some knowledge about the technique they were crafted with. Perhaps the Fount had taken up carpentry in his time. Shadow Milk should have been congratulating himself on his choice of a target for his destruction, but he was too occupied with trying to understand Pure Vanilla’s ludicrous organization system. In his day, they had organized books in a sensible way, one that could be easily taught and memorized. This was nonsense.

“You should put me in charge of organization,” he huffed, holding two books aloft. “I could do a much better job at keeping this place running.”

“Could you, now?” Pure Vanilla glanced at him from his position at a long table, sorting books into piles. “If that is the case, surely learning a new system of organization is child’s play for someone with your intellect.” When Pure Vanilla took on this fond, teasing tone, his dough warmed and gravity increased its hold on him. He floated higher into the air. The library had blessedly high ceilings.

“Flattery, Nilly, will not work on me,” he hissed. A lie, but one he did not expect would be interrogated. His other half shrugged and returned to his work, leaving him to seethe in the air.

Seething, as it turned out, was rather boring, so he drifted back down to Pure Vanilla’s level and watched him work. Before him lay several piles of books, each organized by subject, and then further by their sub-topics, and then again by author. It was a very demanding and involved process. Why would he do this himself, as opposed to having his staff do it for him? Shadow Milk groaned and settled on the edge of the table, where it wouldn’t tip over. He reached for one of the piles and moved its topmost book to a different one while his counterpart was distracted.

“Do you ever think the books consider themselves a part of the library? Or a part of the shelf?”

“Do I- What? Did you hit your head this morning?” Shadow Milk completely halted what he was doing to give Pure Vanilla a bewildered glare.

“The books. All of these pieces together make this wood and this paper something we call a bookshelf…” he reached out and replaced the books Shadow Milk had rearranged. “Each book contains an entire world, but upon the shelf, they also become a part of the larger whole. Select any one of these and you will find something whole and complete, but place it on the shelf, and it becomes a part of a new whole.”

“Is there a point to this, or is my dear Vanilly feeling poetic?”

“I suppose not,” he hummed. “I was thinking about synecdoche. I will be resuming my lessons in a few days, and I find that menial tasks such as these give me time to think.” So that was why he was doing the organization himself. “Spellcraft is as much about good verbiage as it is about ingredients and intent. Being precise in your language is a good place to start. I have a few students who are still struggling with that concept.” His tone was so warm talking about his students, brimming with pride. “I suppose you could refer to a library as ‘the books,’ but I don’t know that I have ever heard as such. You go to the library, but you don’t go to the books. The books are a part of the whole, yes, but you would not identify the shelf by a single book, nor a book by a single page.”

“I know what synecdoche is.” What was the point of this?

“I like to organize my thoughts,” Pure Vanilla replied. “Like these, they can easily be lost if I do not put them in order, and I would be disappointed to lose any of these books.” He set a few more books on the shelf. “My thoughts today are about synecdoche. The books are a part of the larger whole, part of the bookshelf and part of the library, but each is also a self contained world.”

“Yes, yes, everything is a fractal if you look hard enough,” Shadow Milk scoffed. “Am I supposed to be getting something out of this? Am I the book or the shelf, in this equation?”

“Hmm.” Pure Vanilla just smiled at that. What was he playing at? Was there some sort of game in motion that Shadow Milk was not informed about? Ever since their time in the spire… Pure Vanilla played at conversation his way. Games, questions with hidden answers, riddles upon riddles. Stories with hidden analogues. Every conversation was a game. There had to be something that he wasn’t catching, some hidden question, but he was coming up empty. He could not answer it if he wasn’t sure what he was being asked.

“You know, I have spent so much time in that beautiful brain of yours, and I do not understand your thought processes in the slightest. I think your train fell off the tracks a loooong time ago.” He tapped his staff on the table, and the stacks of books switched places. His soul jam itched, but the crack did not seem to grow. Good.

“Perhaps so.” Pure Vanilla selected another book from the table and shelved it. “But you listen to me, and that is something I can thank you for.” He turned to grab another book, then paused, turning back to the shelf. Realizing what had happened, he chuckled, and reached up to remove the mistaken placement. When he turned to the shelf again, his feet caught on a snag in the carpet, and he stumbled forward with a slight sound of surprise. Instinctively, Shadow Milk stepped forward to catch him, one hand on Pure Vanilla’s chest and the other around his back. It was the first they had truly made physical contact since his outburst, and he started to pull back like he’d touched fire. Pure Vanilla caught his wrist before he could create more distance and gave him a deep, searching glance. He opened his mouth to speak, then evidently thought better of it, and released Shadow Milk to dart away.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

They finished clearing up the library a few days later. They swept, cleared away what they could, and fixed the last few things with magic, much to Pure Vanilla’s chagrin. Nothing had been replaced with magic, he had made that request quite clear, but a few things were repaired with it. When the last window was pieced back together, Shadow Milk felt like he could actually sleep. The violet light of dusk filtered in through the window, and moths rested on the glass, seeking the light inside. Pure Vanilla’s tan skin was gently glowing, and he rested against the wall, watching the moon come into view. How... oddly peaceful. Shadow Milk watched him watching the moon, feeling warm and safe and sick. He hadn’t known much peace in his life, and the idea of stillness still made his dough itch.

There was another problem, on top of the infiltrating peace. His initial ruse might have held more water than he thought. Yes, he had magic at his fingertips, but ever since his soul jam had cracked, he found it more tedious to summon. He had to rest to recover it. If he didn’t rest, he was lethargic, and his magic did not cooperate. He was tiring far too quickly. He understood why Pure Vanilla so often seemed exhausted. Sleep took up so much time, and got nothing done. This was a terribly weak state to exist in. If any of his friends or colleagues took an issue with him now, there was little he could do to fight back. Even the other realm was hesitant to answer to him. Were he to overexert himself, to be too careless, the fracture would grow, and he did not want to see what happened if it did. Nor had he any interest in admitting his new weakness. It had been fun and games to playact as a poor injured thing, but… to show a crack in his carefully constructed walls, that was foolish. Patient though he was, Pure Vanilla was still his enemy. As the last of his energy drained away, Shadow Milk settled down on a table before he could crash into the floor. Pure Vanilla Cookie, who had been fixing up a vase, turned at the soft sound.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I knew you had it in you.” Shadow Milk wondered if he was even meant to hear that.

“Well, a good play sometimes requires props to be fixed,” Shadow Milk replied. He didn’t want to admit to his… defeat. Like a wolf brought in from the woods, he had been domesticated. Was entertainment and peace of mind and a small, insignificant crack really a good enough excuse to let his other half keep him on a leash?

“That isn’t what I meant,” Pure Vanilla replied. “But thank you for that, as well.” It was pitiable, really. A beast, resting in the palace of the thief who had ruined him, who had defeated him twice. The angry voice inside him that had kept him safe for so long was quiet. It was still in his head. Only the creaking behind the blue door reminded him he was not alone. His vision went slightly blurry as he reached inward, trying to find his internal compass. There was nothing there.

A hand touched his forehead.

“Are you alright?” Pure Vanilla pursed his lips and pressed the back of his hand to Shadow Milk’s forehead. The touch still burned. It always felt too warm when Pure Vanilla touched him. “You looked distant.” He scooted closer, and sat at a chair in front of the table. “Were you talking to yourself again?”

“What?” He didn’t talk to himself. That wasn’t- that wasn’t what he did. “No, there’s…” There’s no one there.

“I have heard you a few times now. Does it help you focus?” Pure Vanilla Cookie stared at him.

“Silly Nilly. Always so, so worried about everyone else.” It wasn’t an answer, just a deflection, but Pure Vanilla actually winced at that. It always stung, having your flaws brought to light. Shadow Milk sighed and gave him an apologetic look. That would have to suffice.

“Are you going to be able to make it back to your room?” Shadow Milk hadn’t thought about that. It always hurt him to walk, and right now he wasn’t sure he had the energy to float. Had Pure Vanilla caught on to his new malady? That would be very, very bad. No, his gaze was not on the soul jam, just on Shadow Milk’s face. Gauging his reaction. Very slowly, Pure Vanilla cookie leaned in close and touched a hand to Shadow Milk’s waist. His lips were nearly touching his cheek. He murmured, “may I?”

Shadow Milk’s heart did a funny swoop at that. The heat, the familiar anger, they both rose to the surface, boiling his jam, but he had no biting comment this time. Though he was feeling the same anger and bitterness he always did at Pure Vanilla Cookie’s softness for him, he found that all he wanted to do was lean into it. Domesticated.

What have you been reduced to?

There you are, he thought. I needed you. He was damaged, broken, and he did not know what to do. His internal compass always arrived in times like this.

He’s right there, the voice urged. Take the soul jam, now. Pure Vanilla’s hand slid under Shadow Milk’s legs, and the other curved around the small of his back, lifting him from the table. His hands were warm, his touch impossibly light. Shadow Milk’s head found a home against his other half, and he could hear the beating of his heart and the humming of his soul jam. Every rise and fall of his chest as he took a breath, every movement he made, Shadow Milk felt all of it. The world felt light. Time moved like molasses.

What are you doing? Take it, now, while he’s defenseless! It is RIGHT there.

It would be foolish, he tried to reason. Now would be a bad time, while he was injured and had no recourse if Pure Vanilla lashed out at him. But really, deep down… no. That wasn’t it. He didn’t want to. He was right where he wanted to be. What had he been reduced to? Right here, right now, he could end all of it, restore all of his power, and be at full capacity in an instant. That which was once his called to him. But there was something more—the pull inside of him when Pure Vanilla shifted his weight in his arms and rested his cheek against the top of Shadow Milk’s head, the warmth in his chest—for once, he had something that he did not want to lose. Had this not been what he wanted? To thoroughly corrupt Pure Vanilla, to have him at his side indefinitely? Perhaps not in the way he intended, but he had corrupted him. He had convinced him there was something in him worth saving. What a foolish dream.

If you don’t do this, you will never be able to. Do it now, before this becomes who you are. Do not let this thief put you on a leash.

“No.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but there it was, caustic and sour.

No?

“No?” Pure Vanilla questioned. “Do you want me to set you down?” He glanced down at Shadow Milk with those wide, earnest eyes, a slight frown on his face. Shadow Milk opened his mouth to speak, and found that he couldn’t. The hallway suddenly felt so small and far away, the way the world felt when he put on a new mask or tried a new alias. Curtains of shadow were beginning to draw in front of his eyes. His hands gripped Pure Vanilla’s robes tightly.

“Talk to me,” he gasped.

“Shadow Milk Cookie?”

“I… think I’m about to do something very, very, very stupid.” This was ridiculous. The other half of his soul jam was singing to him. He was running out of time. “I need you to distract me. This show can not have such an unsatisfying conclusion.”

I know you want to keep me safe, he pleaded with himself, but I am safer with him than I have ever been on my own.

What.

The moment he thought it, he knew it was true, and he felt fury course through him. It couldn’t be true. This was his other half, his enemy. They were diametrically opposed, bound to destroy each other. And yet. Pure Vanilla’s heartbeat was loud in his ear. The press of his hand around Shadow Milk’s waist kept him grounded squarely in reality when the allure of becoming someone else called to him. The scent of vanilla surrounded him.Pure Vanilla began to speak, and though he could not process the words, the rumbling in his chest echoed against Shadow Milk’s body. This was precisely where he wanted to be. The voice inside him was quiet, suddenly, and the curtains shut in front of his eyes. Gently, he drifted away, the hallway getting smaller and smaller, carried off by the sound of Pure Vanilla’s voice.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

He awoke in his room, some hours later.

When had he started considering it his room, not the guest room? A soft blanket had been pulled over his shoulders, and his hair was neatly swept out of the way. Had he passed out? The voice inside him was quiet once more, but it felt… different. There was no hidden anger, no cold shoulder. Just silence. As though the argument had been won. For once, the loneliness in his mind felt nice. He took a few deep breaths. He did not feel rested, not as he did when he slept. This was the feeling of coming home after slipping into an alias for the day, trying to piece together what he’d missed. Exhaustion seeped into his bones.

Shadow Milk reflected. If he had wanted to take the soul jam, he had missed his opportunity over a month ago. This con had long run away from him. It was never going to succeed. Anger and relief mixed inside of him, burning his stomach. That foolish, foolish king. But who was really the bigger fool? Pure Vanilla, who had known his goals all along and had gently guided him towards a better path? Or him, who lost sign of his original goals in favor of helping his sworn enemy? He sighed and turned over on his side, and- oh. Oh.

Beside him, chest gently rising and falling, Pure Vanilla lay sleeping. His hat was on the nightstand, slightly crumpled. His long hair lay in a wreath around him, and a few strands that had fallen over his face gently moved up in the air with each breath. He watched the strands rise and fall in the slow pulse of Pure Vanilla’s breath. With some alarm, Shadow Milk thought that he could lay there for hours and watch Pure Vanilla Cookie’s hair gently blow away from his face. Silver moonlight shone on his face, and his skin had a soft glow to it. A slight smile pushed at the corners of his mouth. Shadow Milk’s heart swooped again. What was that? It wasn’t anger, was it? Impulsively, he reached out a hand, not sure what his goal was. Before he had a chance to figure that out, Pure Vanilla roused, slowly blinking.

“Goodness,” he murmured. “I let the time get away from me, and I-” He caught sight of Shadow Milk, who wondered what his face was doing, based on the way his eyes widened. “Hello,” Pure Vanilla said, voice impossibly soft.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Shadow Milk grumbled half-heartedly. His heart wasn’t really in it.

“Mmm.” Pure Vanilla sighed. “Thank you for helping me these past few days.”

“You already thanked me, ya dolt.” He replied. Then… “…but you’re welcome.” Who was he?

“Shadow Milk,” Pure Vanilla reached out a hand across the space between them and brushed it against his face. That hand settled, cupping his cheek. “Are you in pain? You look exhausted.” Shadow Milk considered that for a moment. In his mind, the bricks and mortar were in his hands, ready to build another wall and avoid this question. He tossed them aside. Pure Vanilla’s thumb brushed across his face.

“My head aches,” he said. “Did you do this to me? How am I supposed to craft any kind of deceit like this?”

“Come here.” That same, impossibly soft voice. Honey and sugar. How could he say no? He let himself be pulled into the web once more, accepted the comfort of its embrace as light wove itself around him, drawing out his pain. The ache in his head, an ever present bell ringing behind his eyes, began to clear, and he could think clearly for the first time in hours. Pure Vanilla’s arms were wrapped around him, his hands rubbing circles into his back.

“Nilly.” He muttered. “Hey. Pure Vanilla.”

“Mm?” It was clear that Pure Vanilla had drained the last of his energy on this, and now his voice was thick with fatigue.

“Do you normally heal cookies like this?” The arms around him squeezed tighter, and his very sleepy companion rested his cheek against Shadow Milk’s forehead.

“Only you,” he murmured. Shadow Milk was quite positive he was not meant to hear that. Fatigue was creeping up on him as well, slowly seeping into his dough and pulling him under. There was no one to see him like this, he reasoned. Only his internal compass, which was being graciously quiet for the time being. Even that snake could not resist the temptation of physical comfort, that he knew. He reached around and returned the embrace that trapped him, and Pure Vanilla made a soft, contented noise that drove a spear through his chest. He ran his fingers through the soft hair that tumbled over his arms, gently raking his nails over Pure Vanilla’s scalp, and received another relaxed sigh for his efforts. What had he come here for, again?

His other half pulled him closer, and Shadow Milk’s face was buried in the crook between his neck and his shoulder, surrounded by the smell of vanilla. For a moment, he thought that he was alone in the waking world, but Pure Vanilla moved away just enough to see his face, and the look of sheer adoration in his eyes made Shadow Milk feel like putty in his hands. He wanted to tear that doting expression off of him. He wanted to drown in it.

“Goodnight,” Shadow Milk breathed, clawing at the destructive impulse in his chest until it was silent. Not tonight. Not now.

“Rest well,” Pure Vanilla whispered, and then he was out, given in to sleep. It only took moments after that for fatigue’s siren song to pull him under too, into hazy and forgettable dreams.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

He had no chance to discuss any of it the following day. When he woke, Pure Vanilla was gone, having left a note on the bedside table. Figured. Give him a modicum of peace, and he started treating Shadow Milk like a one night stand. Without his steadying presence, he found himself somewhat unsure of how to spend his day. Perhaps rearranging the library, organizing it in a sensible way.

There was a friend of Pure Vanilla’s in town. This one was not as personal of an enemy as White Lily Cookie, but he still felt an air of unease when he saw Hollyberry Cookie step into the castle to speak with his host. He watched from the shadows as they spoke, looking for an in to harass them, only to be summoned into the conversation for his knowledge, knowledge that was sealed behind the Fount’s door. A friend of Pure Vanilla’s, coming here to speak with him? That was something new. It was enough to keep him in check, following Pure Vanilla’s requests for him to ‘behave’ for the sake of gathering information. With what little he knew, he attempted to answer her questions about dragontongue, and he seemed to sate her curiosity. It was the closest he had felt to the Fount in a long time, and he drew himself up an air of amusement and mockery, lest he lose himself completely in the routine of answering questions and satisfying curious cookies.

As she was leaving, Pure Vanilla stopped to speak with the cookie that waited to accompany her back home, a tall cookie with a rather imposing gauntlet on one arm, and Hollyberry Cookie did not follow him.

“You! Shadow Milk Cookie!” She caught his arm and pulled him out of view. He tried to wriggle free, but her grip was strong. He had to turn his arm into shadow to escape her. “I have another question for you.” All of his eyes blinked at her. This did not deter her.

“I think I’m done answering questions for today, sweetness.” He took a low bow and began backing away, looking for a dark corner to hide in.

“This is… more of a personal question.” She chuckled. She replied to everything like it was the best joke she had ever heard. He found it slightly unsettling. There had been no humor in his statement. “This is about our mutual friend.” With a tilt of her head, she indicated the royal fool that was standing outside.

“Well, far be it from me to miss an opportunity to talk about my charming, perfect, endearing other half,” he scoffed.

“Oh good! I’m glad you agree.” She followed him in his attempt to slip away. “I won’t keep you for long, honest. I just want to know what your intentions are with him.”

“Wha-”

“You and I both know he trusts very easily. I just want to know you’re not going to break his heart.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “I know it can be difficult, a cookie in your position finding their heart again. That is something I learned firsthand.” Was she speaking about- “If you ever need advice, you’re always welcome in the Hollyberry kingdom!” Her smile was wide, creasing her sparkling eyes, but he did not miss the threat in her body language, the way she gripped her shield tighter and forced him to hold her eye contact. Uncomfortably, he remembered a conversation he had recently had with a particularly saccharine colleague.

“I do not,” he hissed, moving closer, hovering above her, “have a heart. You ancient heroes are all the same. You like to think you know me, that you understand me, that you have even an inkling of what I think or desire. But you know nothing. So do not pretend-”

“Oh, I am well aware of your tricks, you old snake.” She was smiling. “You are the beast of deceit, no? I know you would never admit your true intentions to me directly. Not like she would. Us heroes may all be the same, as you say, but you beasts are as different as can be.” Her voice was so warm. If she was afraid, she was not betraying it. “I only wanted you to know you had a confidant in me, if ever you need it. I know how it feels to avoid a good thing for too long only to realize it has slipped away from you.” Her smile faltered, only momentarily. She was being awfully candid for a stranger. She would not have done well in his spire. “I would hate to see him slip away from you, when you clearly harbor so much affection for him.” Personal experience, perhaps?

“Are all of your people this brash, or are you a special case?”

She laughed heartily, still not rising to his provocations. “If you think I’m bad now, you should see me after a few drinks! Oh, I do not think you would like that.”

“I think your friend is ready to go,” he deflected. He would like to think he would not be here long enough to see Hollyberry Cookie drunk, but if his actions over the past weeks—no, well over a month now—were anything to go by… he might be here a while.

“Alright, alright, I’m going, I know when I’m not wanted,” she laughed. “But really, my friend. Think about what I’ve said, would you?”

Of course he wouldn’t.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

In the end, he had very little chance to speak on any of it until late that night. Pure Vanilla had invited himself to Shadow Milk’s room with a tray of food and a very wholehearted and sincere apology for missing breakfast. Yes, apologies were in order. If he hadn’t been summoned into their conversation, he would have moved on his plans to paint obscene doodles over every painting in the main hallway. Causing an international scandal seemed like a perfectly reasonable reaction to him. It served Pure Vanilla right for missing breakfast. It was the most important meal of the day, so the Fount’s wheedling voice reminded him. Pure Vanilla really was apologetic, though. Hollyberry had seemed upset, he explained, and he hadn’t thought of it until they were already deeply consumed with conversation.

Shadow Milk was surprised to find that he was disappointed. Not that he enjoyed their meals together, of course, but… He was disappointed that he had missed out on a chance to pester his host, nothing more. Now, they sat on either side of his bed, the tray of empty dishes long forgotten, and Shadow Milk felt… not happy. No. But he felt warm. Weak. Safe. He had done nothing to deserve any of this, only paid his sentence for the sake of winning Pure Vanilla’s trust. He did not feel he had earned Pure Vanilla’s forgiveness for the library, not really, and yet. That little… stint, last night, his plea for help, neither of them had spoken of it. If he was very quiet, and did not mention it, perhaps it would never come again, and he could live in the blissful lie that he had never once been vulnerable with his enemy. Or perhaps it was worth the discussion, if it meant getting closer to his enemy. It had been foolish- and it had won him Pure Vanilla’s trust. He had not made up his mind yet about whether it had been the right thing to do.

It was the wrong thing to do. Yes, well. His internal voice would think so. He thinks you’re fragile, now. You can still save this, if you stop letting him see you like this.

Now here they were, sharing a conversation in his room, smiling like old friends. Pure Vanilla was beginning to drift off. The day had been long and demanding, and his eyes were fluttering shut, his sentences trailing off at the ends.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” He snapped his fingers in front of Pure Vanilla’s face. “Wakey, wakey. You’re going to pass out in my bed again. What would your staff think?” His face formed a grimace. What did they think now? Even Hollyberry seemed to think he had ulterior motives for staying. More the fool her, then.

“Would you like me to leave?” Pure Vanilla asked him, with complete sincerity. No. He wouldn’t. Pure Vanilla’s eyes were so bright. Shadow Milk stared at him, and the boiling heat in his jam rose.

“How do you do that?”

“I- Do what, exactly?” His mouth curved into a slight frown.

“Is it a light spell or something? Kind of underhanded, Nilly, casting spells on a cookie behind his back.” He frowned back at his other half. He’d been thoroughly domesticated, but that didn’t mean he had to be nice.

“I have not cast any spells on you, Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla squinted at him. “Are you sick?” A light, gentle laugh came from him. Shadow Milk felt the same burn inside of him. “Do you need any unsuspecting former kings to take you in?” This banter was too intimate. It was not safe for anyone to regard him like this.

“I don’t know what else would be burning me like this.” Maybe it was his soul jam, some last part of his soul expressing outrage at his decision to grant mercy to this thief. Maybe growing a conscience was what would finally undo him.

“Burning?” Pure Vanilla sat up abruptly and leaned over Shadow Milk, looking him up and down with urgency. His hair fell over Shadow Milk in a curtain. “Are you alright?”

Shadow Milk’s heart hammered in his chest.

“What else are you feeling?” Pure Vanilla held out a glowing hand. “Burning makes me think- I mean- If you have an injury that has become infected on my watch, I… I have failed rather miserably as a healer.” Shadow Milk hoped his eyes did not dart towards his soul jam. That was one secret he was willing to keep for as long as possible.

“I feel like you’re bothering me,” Shadow Milk grumbled. He was letting himself be too vulnerable, he knew it. “And I feel hot. Like my skin is on fire. And my heart is racing.” He averted his eyes, unable to bear staring at him for too long. “Stop doing that.”

“I am… not doing anything,” Pure Vanilla reiterated. “Shadow Milk…” He cupped Shadow Milk’s face in his hand. “Is it worse or better, now?”

“Worse. I’m going to tell your subjects how badly you mistreat your guests, Nilly. It’s going to be a scandal the likes of which Earthbread has never seen.”

“Shadow Milk.” There was honey in his tone. Oh, no, no, Shadow Milk could feel his breath on his face. He could smell vanilla. “I forgive you for the library.” Too soon, really. He did not deserve that.

“What?” Was Pure Vanilla Cookie going to kill him?

“Less so for lying to me. But we’ll get there. I see that you’re trying.”

“What is this? You’re being weird. Weirder than usual.” Shadow Milk looked away from him.

“I am... just covering all my bases before I potentially make things so much worse.” What in the world could that possibly mean? “Shadow Milk.”

“Stop saying my name like… like that.”

Pure Vanilla Cookie removed his hand from Shadow Milk’s cheek and gently grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up. Shadow Milk felt certain his death was imminent. Pure Vanilla’s eyes were soft, a slight smile carved into his lips, loose hair framing his face. He was so close.

“May I?” Pure Vanilla leaned in closer, nose to nose with Shadow Milk.

Oh.

Oh.

Shadow Milk could only nod.

Death would have been easier, he thought. Death would have been more merciful than the hammering of his heart against his ribs as Pure Vanilla’s lips touched his, so, so reverently. So gently. Gentleness he did not deserve. Shadow Milk’s hands found their way to Pure Vanilla’s waist, pulling him in, digging into his clothing. He didn’t deserve this. Sooner or later some ugly part of him was going to rear its head and demand penance for this. Right now, he didn’t care. Pure Vanilla’s lips were so soft, and his kiss became more and more insistent as Shadow Milk tangled his hands in his hair.

“Do you feel any better?” Pure Vanilla leaned back, breathless. He was laughing. His eyes were so bright. His other half rested on top of him, one arm laid over his chest and the other holding his chin.

“I- I feel...” Shadow Milk Cookie was afraid. He was terrified. He felt freezing cold. The crack in his soul jam was singing a song of thin ice. This was dangerous. “I feel like I made a mistake.” The last word came out like it would burn him to hold on to it any longer. Pure Vanilla’s mouth opened slightly, unmistakable hurt crossing his face. Shadow Milk closed his eyes and tried to forget that image. Tried to savor it. He failed at both. There was a burning feeling on his skin, a residual memory of being bound and confined. “You are wrong about me.” He scrambled away, and Pure Vanilla, to his credit, allowed it, with only a hurt expression. This was all wrong. He let shadows creep over his face until only his eyes and his impossibly sharp smile were visible. Let the crack in his soul jam split deeper. See if he cared. “I can be so much worse than you think I can, and you are just sitting here and letting me. Fool. I am not your pet.”

“Shadow Milk-” his voice wavered oh so softly. Just a slight tremble. A few months ago, he would have savored that tremble like the sweetest honey. Today, he was not there to hear it.

Shadow Milk was already gone.

Good. You did the right thing.

Chapter Text

Morning came, and Pure Vanilla cookie was unsure what to do with himself. Ordinarily, he rose with the sun, but the curtains in Shadow Milk’s room were dark, and when he finally blinked awake, it was nearly noon. He did not remember falling asleep. He remembered crying—not breaking down, not sobbing, just crying. He remembered waiting. The window was left open, and a chill had crept in overnight. The bed was soft and still warm. Outside, bluebirds chirped and sang by the window. He had always been fond of them. Gingerly, with much care, he remade the bed and fluffed up the pillows, just in case. He shut the curtains, plunging the room into darkness. Just in case. On the bedside table, a deck of cards was still strewn about, and he took the time to organize them neatly and return them to their box. He gathered the empty plates and stacked them where he could retrieve them later. There was nothing more to be done here. When he returned to his room, clean robes were waiting on his bed where he had left them. Operating on autopilot, he walked to the kitchen to fetch breakfast, and stopped short. There were two plates set out for him. The food was cold. There were two plates.

Black Raisin Cookie was not difficult to find. She was in the courtyard, listening to the chattering of one of her crows. It was a cool morning—spring had only just arrived, and the weather was still making up its mind about how to behave. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair. As elevated as his kingdom was, the breeze was often much cooler than it was on the ground below. She looked up well before he approached, and gave him a warm smile. It put his mind at ease to know she was always around, one of his few friends who had known him when he was in hiding. To her, he was always going to be Healer Cookie. It was comforting to be seen that way. She saw him for who he was, not his numerous mistakes.

“Where’s your bluebird?” She looked over his shoulder at the empty air. On instinct, he turned as well, though he knew there would be nothing there.

“Would you like to have lunch with me?” He gestured to the tray he balanced in his off hand. Then, it occurred to him that he was avoiding the question, as Shadow Milk so loved pointing out. “I… I don’t know where he is, I am afraid.”

“He’s gone?” That seemed to genuinely surprise her. Her mouth remained slightly open in surprise, even as he brushed past her. Nevertheless, she agreed to his offer and followed him to the garden. There were many places to sit among the lilies and the greenery, and it took no time at all for them to settle down with their food. “Are… are you alright?” She had not touched her food yet, fixing him with the look she typically reserved for outlanders.

“I’m fine,” he said. Fine was a good, neutral word, wasn’t it? It wasn’t… a lie, exactly. He was physically well, at least. “What news is there from the kingdom? I don’t want to spend all of your precious time discussing my woes.”

She gave him a knowing look, but she did not pry. He appreciated that about her. “Well, the wafflebots are still acting up, but it seems Strawberry Crepe has found the line of code that is causing the malfunctions, so everyone is feeling relieved about that.” Yes, the wafflebots. The violet light in their eyes… he could only speculate as to who could have done it, but he had his suspicions. The way they had waited, the way they had ceased their rampage as soon as he allowed Shadow Milk to save him. Now that had been a gambit. Was he more important than his soul jam? He really hadn’t been certain until that moment. It had certainly seemed that way in the spire, that his presence was what mattered, but he could never be too sure of his own speculation. Black Raisin cleared her throat and took a bite of food, and then watched him until he followed suit. It tasted wrong, but he was polite enough not to push the plate away. “Still no sign of the spy, but I’m sure we-”

“The what?” What on earth had happened while he was busy with the library? If his kingdom was in danger, and he hadn’t noticed it, then that reflected very poorly on him. Despite giving up his seat on the throne, he felt deeply responsible for anything that went wrong, and the people looked to him for answers, even after everything he had done, and- a pit began to form in his stomach. Even the air smelled rotten.

“Oh, I- I thought you knew.” She cleared her throat. What didn’t he know? How bad had things gotten? “Allegedly, Dark Enchantress Cookie has a spy somewhere in the kingdom.” She must have seen the fear on his face, because she was quick to add, “But! I’ve been keeping my eyes out, but I haven’t seen anything that really piques my interest. I think it’s just anxiety. Things have been too good for too long, and they’re getting worried.”

“Too good for too long?” He felt nauseous. “Yes, I understand the feeling.” That sentiment rang true in a way he didn’t like. Yes, it is easy to doubt a good thing when all you’ve known is strife. Sometimes the comfort of hardship is easier to bear with than the discomfort of change. “When things look too promising, sometimes it is easier to wait for something to go wrong.”

“So where is Shadow Milk Cookie?” She eyed him as he pushed his plate away. Years of friendship had granted her the uncanny ability to see right through him.

“I don’t know,” he repeated. His throat felt impossibly dry. “He… left, last night. You haven’t seen any sign of him?” She gave him a piercing look, and he withered under it. He did not want to admit how poorly he had judged the situation. He knew he had made a mistake, letting Shadow Milk in, but he had honestly, genuinely believed that with time, things might change. That if he played into the lie, Shadow Milk would eventually see the forest for the trees and give in to comfort. What a fool.

“I have not,” Black Raisin answered him, temporarily quieting his thoughts. “I think his… followers… I think they are here in the kingdom somewhere, but. I haven’t been able to figure out who they are.” Yes, he was quite familiar with those two. They were both masters of disguise. If they were here, as he had suspected they were, he doubted Black Raisin would find them if they didn’t make themselves known.

“And you don’t want to join everyone else in their paranoia,” he finished. He understood where she was going with this. “Perhaps…” What was there to do? “Perhaps if I go into town and see how things are going, I can try to put their minds at ease?” He looked at her expectantly.

“Yes, of course I’ll go with you,” she agreed. Answering the question he had not needed to ask. “Are you…” He had to squint to make out her expression. “Are you okay, old friend? I haven’t seen you like this in a while.” He did not want to press her too deeply on what she meant by ‘like this.’

“I’m… fine.” He was. Honestly. He was still standing, still capable of carrying out a conversation, still capable of continuing on with his day. If he ignored the gnawing feeling in his chest, really, he was perfectly fine. The picture of good health. In an attempt to prove his point, he took another bite of his food. It was cold, and it tasted rotten, but he swallowed it.

“Right.” Black Raisin pushed her chair back and stood. “How soon can you go? I’m told things are not looking promising at the moment.”

“Let us not waste any time.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The town square was in chaos. When they arrived, Pure Vanilla had to step aside to avoid a flower pot that was thrown across the road, which shattered against a wall and rained down soil. Raised voices crowded his hearing, and it was hard to make out any individual cookies in the blur of the crowd. His grip on his staff tightened. Black Raisin stayed close to him, and he put his free hand on her shoulder to steady himself. At a nearby stall, a vendor was arguing with a customer, insisting that the ingredients in her food were safe, that any rumors of poison were unfounded. Across the street, two cookies he knew to be long time friends were exchanging very fierce language. The air was alight with magic. A pit was growing inside of him. This could not be blamed on simple disagreements. This was targeted fear. He had to reckon with the real cause of this discord. What had Shadow Milk Cookie done? What had his guest, the cookie he had allowed into his kingdom, done? His grip on Black Raisin’s shoulder tightened, and she looked at him out of her periphery as they maneuvered further into the square. She was guiding him somewhere specific, that much became apparent. Over the rest of the crowd, he spotted a dark coat belonging to someone very well dressed. From this distance, he couldn’t tell who it was, but Black Raisin was dragging him along anyways.

As they approached, the cookie in question looked up and recognized them, and he swiftly ducked under an awning to meet them. The closer they got, the clearer Pure Vanilla’s vision became, until he at last recognized a friendly face: Espresso Cookie.

“Well, now this is something,” he said. “The king descending into the madness?”

“I did not expect to see such an esteemed academic in the midst of this pandemonium, I must admit,” Pure Vanilla replied warmly. “Have you any better idea than me what is happening here?”

“I am under the impression that the spy has been spotted.” His voice was low. “Really. A spy in the Vanilla kingdom?” Disbelief crept into his tone. “Strange things have happened before, yes, but… really?” His voice was steeped with incredulity. “But they’re thoroughly convinced.” Behind him, two cookies fell into view, arguing loudly and throwing blows.

“I find it similarly unlikely,” Pure Vanilla replied. “But I’m… unsure how to proceed. At this rate, I worry any attempts to assuage their fears would only turn their suspicions on me.” After all, he had been harboring a known criminal.

“Given your choice of house guests, as of late, I can’t say I would blame them,” Espresso commented, echoing his own thoughts. That stung, but it was… not unfair.

“Yes, well.” He sighed. “On that, I suppose I made a mistake.” That word kept cropping up. Mistake. He had made a mistake. He had been a mistake.

“Quite.” Despite the scrutiny, he appreciated the bluntness of it. Perhaps it was good to have cookies in his kingdom who would question his judgment.

He made a snap decision. “Can I entreat you to manage… all of this? Use magic if you must. I have some cookies I need to find.”

Espresso gave him a searching look. “Is there no one else you can task with this?”

“Possibly. But you are here.” Pure Vanilla took a deep, steadying breath. “Get the people settled. Black Raisin Cookie and I will proceed with our own task.”

Espresso turned up his nose slightly, but agreed. “If you insist.”

Black Raisin was giving him a very bewildered look. There was no time to wait for further discussion. Pure Vanilla reached for her arm and pulled her away, watching as a blurry Espresso Cookie stepped back into the crowd and vanished. He would have to trust him.

“Who are we looking for, exactly?” Black Raisin hissed.

“We’re looking for anyone who seems to be stoking the chaos, rather than participating in it.” It was a vague description, true, but it should be all they needed. “Send out a few crows. We’re looking for two cookies. They’ll be on the fringes, most likely.” He thought back to his time in the spire with a shudder. “They won’t be participating directly, but they’ll be feeding ideas to the cookies who are.”

“Okay,” she said. Her brows were furrowed. “I trust your judgment.” He could not see them, but he heard the sound of several crows taking off, dropping feathers on the streets below.

“While we wait, may we talk?” He found a wall and leaned against it, resting for a moment. “The people will not calm down easily. We both know this.”

“Yeah.” She chuckled. “Nothing is as unpredictable as a mob.” She rested beside him. As loathe as he was to admit it, a part of him was relieved to have a tangible problem to solve. He wondered what Shadow Milk would make of it. Was he hiding somewhere, laughing this off? Perhaps it had all been pointless, and Pure Vanilla had rendered himself a liar for nothing. Failed, again.

A hand touched his shoulder.

“Hey,” Black Raisin murmured softly. “We’ve dealt with worse than this, haven’t we? Don’t look so glum. We can handle some rowdy villagers.”

“Yes, we have faced far worse,” he laughed. “But I fear that healing a few scrapes, or even a crumbling injury, is child’s play compared to healing paranoia. That is a wound that demands a very special kind of attention.”

Again, she searched his expression for something, and, finding nothing, just sighed and nodded.

“I know you can do it,” she said. “You kept me by your side when I had intended to leave you, after all.” Her shoulder brushed his, and he took comfort in the momentary respite. All burdens felt lighter in the presence of good friends. Something about how shared joy was double the joy, and shared sorrow was half the sorrow. And with that thought, something occurred to him. Paranoia was a capricious wound. It demanded more than a simple bandage. The cure for paranoia was as ever shifting as the disease.

“So I did. Black Raisin Cookie… I think I have an idea.”

“I like to hear that.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Receiving a summons to the castle was rare—though Pure Vanilla frequently left the gates upon, such that anyone could tour or enjoy the gardens, an actual invitation was an event, and the news spread fast among the citizens when two strangers were seen walking up to the gates, two invitations in hand. Even the chaos took a breather. Curiosity, in many cases, overtook fear. Pure Vanilla stood at the main doors, waiting patiently. The taller cookie of the two wore a finely tailored chocolate suit, and his sister a very heavily decorated golden dress. They approached with twin expressions of confusion, barely visible beneath their perfectly tailored smiles. When they arrived, he gestured for them to enter ahead of him, pointing them towards the council hall. The room they often used for war meetings. Now, it had been decorated for a late afternoon luncheon.

When they had left the chaos of the town square, he had begun decorating at once. He had explained relatively little of his plans to his companions in the castle, too myopic and focused on his end goals. The next day, he had sent out the invitations. The decoration had given him something to focus on, to take his mind off of his anxiety, and he had found simple pleasure in restoring some glory to the palace. Shadow Milk would have been proud of his effort. Maybe he was, if he was watching. The table was already set, and Black Raisin and Strawberry Crepe were waiting, both well dressed.

“It is an honor to have you both visit.” Pure Vanilla pulled out each of their chairs for them before taking his own. “I’m relieved to meet you both at last. I’m told you’re causing quite the stir in town. Now, I take pride in being very familiar with the cookies in the Vanilla Kingdom, and I cannot say that any of them have established their presence quite as notably as you two have.”

“Sir,” Opera Cookie began.

“I know who you are,” he replied coldly. His heart was pounding, and he could barely hear over the sound. Being intimidating made him unhappy, even when it had to be done. “I know you’ve been spreading rumors in my kingdom.” He turned his head just enough to see Strawberry Crepe in his peripheral vision. They looked ready to attack at any moment, an expression which on that child looked remarkably like a smile. Shadow Milk had taken a liking to them. He had often found Shadow Milk in the hangar, on days when he was busy and could not entertain him. He took a very slow breath and counted to ten in his head. “Which is why I have brought you here to ask for your help.”

“What??” Maple Syrup Cookie interrupted him, nearly jumping out of her chair.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Opera Cookie said. He pressed his fingers together, giving Maple Syrup a very lethal glare.

“Neither do I,” Black Raisin added. “I hope you’ve thought this through.”

“I have.” He had barely slept, running this through in his mind over and over. There were any number of ways he could attempt to appease the people, but this stuck out in his mind for several reasons. Most importantly, he thought it was the most fun. “You two have thoroughly convinced my people that any one of them could be a spy. People are injured because of your actions, and there is no trust in one’s neighbor. I’m certain this pleases you, but I am unhappy.” He reached for a glass of water and took a moment to gather his thoughts. On his desk, there lay a piece of paper on which the very words he now spoke had been drafted, in a scrawling, illegible cursive. “No, not unhappy. I am furious. I leave you with two options.” He summoned the strength that had come to him in the spire. He needed to sell this. He needed them to believe him, because it was an incredibly foolish, naive- no, stupid lie. It was the sort of thing he expected to be taken as a joke. “Help me fix this, or I will find Shadow Milk Cookie and I will kill him myself.”

Black Raisin’s jaw dropped, and his captive audience stared at him in horror.

“You would kill Master Shadow Milk Cookie?” Candy Apple Cookie’s disguise dropped. Clearly, she was too preoccupied to keep up appearances. At this, Black Sapphire followed suit. The ruse was up, after all. Did it count as a lie if he had no real intent to follow through on it? He was certain they would help him—if not to protect Shadow Milk, then out of sheer curiosity—but… what if they didn’t? Surely he could find a loophole in his own promise.

“It wouldn’t be difficult,” Black Sapphire Cookie admitted, and then clasped a hand over his mouth. Clearly, he had not meant to say that out loud. Pure Vanilla knew one thing about himself for certain, and he intended to use it to his full advantage. Cookies trusted him. They had a tendency to tell him things they never meant to say out loud. Ordinarily he dislike this, hating the feeling that anyone was being insincere with him. In this instance, however, it was a tool.

“No?” He questioned.

“He trusts you,” came the begrudging reply. “I have no idea why, by all rights he should hate you, but… he keeps going back to you. He kept giving you second chances in the spire. If you really wanted to kill him… I think you could.” Was that doubt?

“I’ve never seen him smile as much as he did when you were in the spire,” Candy Apple griped. “I wish I could make him smile that much.” Now that was interesting.

“Yes. I think that if you wanted to hurt him, you could.” Goodness, Black Sapphire was quick to throw his supposed master under the bus. Was it self-preservation? Or could he see right through Pure Vanilla’s attempt at an ultimatum? “But why threaten him? Why not threaten us​​?”

“You said it yourself.” He took another sip of water. “He trusts me.” It felt poisonous to say in such a threatening way. Black Raisin was giving him a look that made him feel like an unruly beast. He hated acting like this. “So… will you force me to act against my nature?”

“What’s the alternative?” Was it possible that Black Sapphire was regarding him with respect? Is that what that look in his eyes was? Curiosity, respect, they all looked similar through the fog of his vision.

“The new guests in our kingdom reveal why they came to visit." He was presenting them with a new ruse. Surely they would take it. "Opera Cookie and Maple Syrup Cookie are going to help me plan a party.”

Chapter Text

“That is not how you meant to phrase that, was it?” Black Raisin Cookie sat on the table in the council hall, giving him a particularly piercing look.

“Ah…” Pure Vanilla floundered, trying to produce a good explanation. “Not as such, no. I- I truly did mean to threaten them,” he winced at that, “but I did not intend to phrase it quite so harshly.” Black Sapphire and Candy Apple were gone now, sent to rooms within the palace and followed by crows. “I intended to tell them I was going to find Shadow Milk Cookie, and let them fill in the details, such that I would not…” he sighed heavily. “I am not looking forward to the potential of finding a loophole in that particular promise.”

“I wouldn’t be, either.” Her gaze softened. “Are you nervous at all? Working with them?”

“Yes, a bit. I think I would be lying to say otherwise.” He joined her on the table, far less dignified in hopping up than she had been. “They helped him in the spire, and I know they were responsible for…” a vague gesture would have to suffice as an explanation. The chaos in the kingdom had not spread overnight. Shadow Milk had spent… quite a lot of time with him. He could not have done it on his own. There had been other hands at work, sowing deceit even as Shadow Milk… even as he… had he truly gotten better? Or had it all been a ruse?

“They’re just paying off the damage they caused,” she said. His spiraling thoughts took a momentary pause “Do you think they would have helped you without all the… pretense?”

“Mm. I honestly do not know.” Plans were already beginning to circulate in his mind. “I believe they would have said yes, either way. My intent by threatening their… master,” he cringed at the phrasing, “was to ensure they would not take advantage of the large group of cookies gathering in one place. I am not that much of a fool, I know a situation such as this is the perfect opportunity to sow chaos. If they believe interference would lead to consequences-”

“You’re not a fool at all,” Black Raisin interrupted. Then, a pause. “Well, for the most part. The threats of murder from a healer are certainly a bit-”

“-alright, alright, point taken.” Laughter welled up inside of him, and goodness, it felt good to laugh. He had been so tightly wound, so unsure of his choices, and the laughter warmed him in the same way healing always did. They sat there for a moment, just laughing at his choices. He understood for a moment why Shadow Milk was so given to bouts of mania. For someone with so many doubts and questions internally, it must have felt soothing. Of course, in so much as a tonic could not cure a broken bone, laughter could only heal so much, but… he understood the impulse.

“Right,” Black Raisin said, taking a breath to calm herself. “Well. I’ll fetch some friends, let them know what you’re… planning.” Another laugh threatened to come over her, and she stifled it with a hand. “Who all needs to be in on this? Aside from your… new planning committee.”

“Inform Strawberry Crepe Cookie,” he said immediately. “I believe they may want a few words with the cookie that tampered with their wafflebots. And… I may also be able to make use of the wafflebots for decorating purposes.”

“Now that is a mental image.”

“Inform Espresso Cookie as well. He was in the fray with us, he ought to be informed about our plans to quell the people’s worry. Although I doubt he will have interest in helping.” He hopped off of the table and paced back and forth. “The Creme Republic should be notified of the situation. I believe they are sending an envoy regardless, to help us fix the power. Finally, send a missive to Gingerbrave and his friends. If they are not too occupied, I imagine they may enjoy the opportunity to enjoy the Vanilla Kingdom in a time of peace. That, and I would rather like them to be there if anything does go awry.” He sighed. “Let us hope it does not.”

“I’ve got all that.” She was already at the door—how quickly had she moved? A crow was perched on her arm, and she was listening to its chattering. “By the way- your new guests have made it to their rooms. My crows gathered some of their conversation, if you’d like to hear it?”

Tempting. But no. He’d troubled them enough. “Save it. As curious as I am, I have given them more than enough to worry about. They deserve privacy.”

“Are you sure?”

“If they start plotting to kill me in my sleep, then yes, I would prefer to know, but so long as they are merely making conversation, let them have privacy.”

She smiled at him. “Now that sounds more like you.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was remarkable how quickly his allies rose to the situation. Firstly, Gingerbrave and his friends. Though they could not be there for the initial announcement of festivities, they promised that they would make an appearance later in the week. He was pleased at the idea of seeing them again. So long as trouble did not follow them, as it so often seemed to, their appearance would only bring happiness.

Secondly, the cookies from the Creme Republic, already traveling that way to help repair the power, had expressed more than a little confusion at his plans, but nevertheless, they had alevel of respect for his position, and to that extent, some level of trust. Hopefully, their presence would put people’s minds at ease. If only he knew when they would arrive.

Now, he waited for the committee to show up to enact the first stage of his plan. It had taken several days of rehearsal, of clueing in the right people, of careful planning. Winning back the people’s trust was not as simple as throwing a party, as much as he would like to pretend it was. Rumors were fickle things. By now, the rumor had thoroughly spread that Pure Vanilla Cookie, the sage healer, had been harboring a beast in his own home. Their trust in him was shaky, too. Not that he blamed them. He was hardly a reliable leader. In their shoes, would he trust himself? He hardly trusted himself now. Black Raisin sat near him in the council hall now, watching him pace with a concerned expression.

“Are you confident this will go over well?” She asked him.

“No,” he admitted. “But I am trying to be. I think this distraction will put their minds at ease. And then, of course…” There was another element to their plans, something neither of them seemed eager to voice. This rumor escaping would damage their reputation. It was best they kept it tightly under wraps.

“Your new party planning committee sure is something,” Black Raisin murmured. They shared a laugh. ‘Opera Cookie’ and ‘Maple Syrup Cookie’ would be here soon. The two of them had risen to the occasion with surprising gusto, eagerly tearing apart each of his ideas, explaining why they were foolish, and proposing new ones. Perhaps they had been a bit creatively stifled in the spire. Not only were their suggestions in regards to decor and theme surprisingly useful, their knowledge of cookies and how they behaved was invaluable. They had been quick to inform him that he couldn’t throw a party for no reason. That, they cheerfully told him, would only worsen the state of paranoia. No, of course. They needed a reason for the festivities. Candy Apple had told him to think of the faerie kingdom. He was not certain he wanted to host a party that lasted months, but… days, yes. Days, he could do.

Black Raisin snapped him out of his musing. “They sure are eager to please.”

“Yes. I am… surprised at how quickly they agreed to help me. I suppose they saw an opportunity for a show and decided the fun outweighed the risk.” He pulled a few strands of hair into his hands and began untangling nonexistent knots. “Or they genuinely believed me capable of- oh, creators. What on Earthbread have I gotten myself into?”

“Maybe they trust you for some reason.” That was the undoubtedly worse option. One of several things was true. Either they truly saw him as someone capable of killing their leader, an idea which thoroughly distressed him, or they saw him as a liar who had invented a ruse to ingratiate himself with them—slightly more true, but no less distressing—or they were amused by his plight and wanted to watch him stumble. Or perhaps they saw him as an ally to their leader, and only answered his invitation because they believed it was in service to him. The last of these was half true. He wanted to be a friend to Shadow Milk, and he regretted that this childish impulse had damaged his reputation as a leader. But the rest filled him with anxiety. He wanted to see himself as an honest person, someone who believed the truth and upheld it, but these two followers of deceit were now answering his every beck and call. What did that say about him? Only self-doubt could answer quicker than truth when he searched for it.

As if hearing his thoughts, they arrived, both wearing their disguises.

“Is everything ready?” He tried to cover the waver in his voice with a cough, but it was a pathetic attempt. Everyone in the room turned their eyes on him. It was immediately obvious that he was nervous.

“It is,” Opera Cookie said. “It was wise of you to choose a weekend for this. They’re already gathering, before you have even announced the celebration. It should be easy to fool them.”

“Everything is perfect,” Maple Syrup Cookie announced. “All those foolish cookies are gathered in town, just going about their days. So many cookies in one place… it’s the perfect place for lies to spread.” She was rocking back and forth on her heels.

“It’s exactly as you asked us to make it,” Opera Cookie agreed. “Will we be allowed to participate? After we’ve played our roles?”

“If you promise not to spread too much dissent, yes.” Pure Vanilla sighed. Black Raisin raised an eyebrow at that allowance. “I know that’s asking a lot.”

“Quite.” Opera Cookie smiled. “I’ll try to keep this one reigned in.” He patted Maple Syrup’s head. “She can be.. ornery.”

“I am not,” she protested. Even Pure Vanilla found himself endeared by it. How treacherous, friendship. He should not trust them, had just been spiraling about their intentions, and yet, they reminded him in some ways of himself and his friends, in their younger years. How could he not be endeared? In the spire, they had been his adversaries, and the constant bickering had proved little more than a headache. As his allies, the arguing was just a slight interruption in planning. They had done their jobs well. He could forgive some bickering.

“Alright,” he interrupted. “That’s enough arguing, okay? I think it is time that we set things in motion.”

“Are you ready?” Black Raisin questioned. He gave her a resolute nod.

“Here’s to hoping this settles their nerves.” She offered an arm, and he accepted it. Together, they made their way to the front gates for a show.

The chaos outside was to be expected. After all, the Consul of the Creme Republic arriving with an armed guard in the midst of rumors of espionage was hardly a recipe for settling concerns. Pure Vanilla found himself thanking his creators that this would go quickly. What a mercy. Opera Cookie and Maple Syrup Cookie had already vanished into the crowd. He trusted that they had shed their disguises by now. As he ran through his plans, Financier Cookie approached him with a worried expression.

“Sir?” It took him a moment to realize she was speaking to him. “Sir, I- We are trying to trust that you have a plan here, but I must admit, we are somewhat worried. The Consul tells me you have been colluding with… well-”

“What she means to say,” Clotted Cream Cookie interjected, “is that we are concerned about your decision to ally yourself with disciples of deceit. I have my doubts that they can ever be redeemed, and the people are saying that you were harboring that beast in your castle for a time. It seems you have yet to get your power back online, as well. That is to say… is everything well? If there is anything the Creme Republic can do-”

Pure Vanilla sighed. Though well meaning, Clotted Cream could be a bit… intense. “Yes, I appreciate your concern.” Diplomacy. He could be diplomatic. “The… Beast of Deceit, I understand, was a rather concerning guest for me to host. However, he came to me asking for help. You must understand, it would be contrary to my very nature to turn away a cookie seeking help. That is the burden and the responsibility granted to me.”

“It did not cross your mind that he could be lying to you to gain access to your kingdom?”

“Yes, that did occur to me.” How much could he reveal? How entangled was he? Perhaps Shadow Milk had been right to call him a spider. He had woven a web he could not escape. A chill crept over him. He had the uncanny feeling that he was being watched. “But… I would have offered him my help regardless. I believe all lies require- oh goodness, what was it that he said? A drop of truth? Regardless of his motivations, I believe I would have helped him no matter what.”

Clotted Cream regarded him with a look that he hoped was respect, but which might have been judgment of his mental state. “Very well,” he replied after a moment. “I suppose I should expect no less from the cookie that wields the light of truth.” He reached out, placed a hand on Pure Vanilla’s shoulder. “I only wish you to be careful, my friend. Financier Cookie and I will be at your disposal for the week.”

“Thank you.” It did feel good to have allies, admittedly. Even if he felt their trust in him was folly.

There was no more time to discuss. A shout rang out across the square, and he knew the gears were beginning to turn. He heard Financier Cookie address him, but his vision narrowed in, staff turning this way and that, looking for his new allies. Though he could not make them out yet, he could follow the noise of the crowd as they moved through it. Avoiding grasping hands and accusations, Black Sapphire Cookie and Candy Apple Cookie, as themselves, pushed to the front of the crowd, bearing twin expressions of panic. Clotted Cream, still at his side, gripped his arm, beginning to speak.

“This is part of the plan,” Pure Vanilla whispered. The grip on his arm relaxed slightly.

“Pure Vanilla Cookie!” Black Sapphire had insisted he did most of the talking. “We would like to speak with Pure Vanilla Cookie!” Before him, Financier Cookie had drawn her sword, ready for a fight. Pure Vanilla cleared his throat gently.

“What is it? Please, let them through.” He stepped forward, blinking as harsh sunlight blinded him completely.

“Sir.” Black Sapphire came up to him with Candy Apple in tow, and gave a somewhat theatrical bow. Sir? He was certainly playing this up. “You of course know that myself and this cookie serve the Beast of Deceit.” Gasps among the crowd. Hands covering faces. Horrified whispers.

“I remember you, yes.” Pure Vanilla hoped he sounded strict. “What brings you here?”

“Our spire in Beast-Yeast has fallen,” Black Sapphire replied smoothly. “We came to the Vanilla Kingdom to gather intel.” Among the whispers of the crowd, Pure Vanilla heard the word ‘spy’ uttered several times. They were buying it. It wasn’t even really a lie—just a distortion of the truth. They had come here to spread deceit. “However. After staying here for a time, we are beginning to grow afraid of the growing conflict in Crispia. We are on our own now. If Dark Enchantress were to turn on us...” Candy Apple took her cue to start trembling with fear. Tears welled up in her eyes. Bless her ability to cry on command. It had fooled him once, but it now served him perfectly.

“Will you let us stay here?” Candle Apple bawled. “Please?”

“If not as citizens, take us as prisoners,” Black Sapphire offered. Oh, Pure Vanilla was so glad they had rehearsed this. Those two had taken great joy in watching him flub his lines over and over, until he could say them perfectly. As the Truthless Recluse, deceit had been disconcertingly easy to weave. Without the guise of a broken spirit, he had to rely on skill alone, and deceit was not a skill he had honed. They had coached him well over the past few days, but he was not sure he could handle another lecture from a hyperactive cookie half his height.

“Hmm.” Pure Vanilla stepped forward. “You swear to me that you are here for aid, and nothing else?”

“I swear on my master’s life.” Oh, now that was just unfair. It had been a foolish threat, and Black Sapphire was just rubbing salt in the wound. He could tell by the satisfied smirk on his face that this had been precisely the intention. Back on script, he continued. “We have come to you seeking your aid. Nothing more.”

“If that is the case,” Pure Vanilla replied. “It is yours. I will not ever turn my back on a cookie in need of help.” His dough prickled. He was certain he was being watched. Every shadow seemed to have eyes today. “Step forward, both of you.” They followed his command.

“Look here!” He drew the attention of his people. “The spies have revealed themselves. I will be taking them in to ensure the validity of their claims. Be at peace, please.” The crowd clamored for answers, surging forward, but he was already pulling Candy Apple and Black Sapphire towards the palace. As they passed, he murmured a request to Clotted Cream under his breath. “Can you do your best to field their questions? I swear to you, I will explain everything to you once you join me in the council hall.”

Looking very perplexed, Clotted Cream nodded. At least he was adaptable. He was a far better diplomat than Pure Vanilla.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

From there, the rest of the plan fell into place easily. The spies had been found, and the kingdom would be at peace. For now. That demanded a celebration. Clotted Cream eased the people’s minds to the best of his ability, and then rejoined them in the palace, where Pure Vanilla explained as best he could. Shared joy. Paranoia built upon itself, it reproduced with every conversation. So long as two cookies were paranoid, it would spread until it was ever consuming. No walls could contain it, no spell could appease it. A capricious thing, paranoia. Joy was much the same. A shared joy between two cookies could very quickly become a celebration between many. Joy was hard to banish once it had established itself. In moments when he felt he might falter, the thought of spending happier times with his friends kept him steady. Happiness was a very powerful antidote to difficult times.

“I think we have had enough of paranoia,” he had said. “It is time to share some joy.”

“Yes, I suppose that is sensible,” Clotted Cream had conceded. “They believe you have caught the spies, now they will want to celebrate that win.”

“Indeed. And of course, it helps that I have a new party planning committee.” Clotted Cream had raised an eyebrow at that, and his incredulity only grew when the very cookies that had just turned themselves in entered the room. They assumed their disguises, but it was clear who stood before them, and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

“Explain.”

“May I introduce you to Opera Cookie and Maple Syrup Cookie? They came highly recommended. They are going to help me plan the celebrations.”

“You have dug yourself quite the hole, Pure Vanilla Cookie.” Clotted Cream had stared him down for a long moment. “Well. How can I assist you in crawling out of it?”

Pure Vanilla breathed a sigh of relief at that. “Oh, thank goodness. I was worried, I mean… I know this is something of a ridiculous situation. I would not begrudge your judgment.”

“I am still deliberating that,” he replied, audibly considering. “However, I am myself well familiar with how mistakes can grow a life of their own. The Vanilla Kingdom is dear to me. Let me help you restore it?” He extended a hand, and Pure Vanilla shook it.

“Thank you, my friend. We have much to discuss. The plans are already well underway, but perhaps you can lend your mind to a few areas of concern?” Clotted Cream had nodded and joined them in conversation, listening to their plans with a thoughtful expression and a hand on his chin. He was critical, at times harsh, but his counsel was a useful tool in refining their approach. It took them most of the day, and Pure Vanilla had not retired to his room until very, very late.

Now, it was morning, and he waited in the council room with Black Raisin Cookie, who was appraising his outfit. He was dressed in a suit, not his usual robes, with a long white cape and intricate gold embroidery. The cape flew out behind him when he walked, and his new shoes hurt slightly to walk in. It was… ostentatious to a degree that embarrassed him. His hair was braided back, peppered with vanilla orchids, and having proper peripheral vision was something of an adjustment. At every turn, he caught his reflection in the big window, and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat out of his depth. He looked like a king, not a healer. His stomach growled, but he didn’t have it in him to touch any of the food that was laid out on the table.

“It’s going to go fine,” Black Raisin assured him. “You have help, you’re not alone.” She selected a donut from the table and took a bite. After a moment, she continued, “I will admit. I’m surprised Clotted Cream Cookie is still here.”

“As am I. Though I suppose I should be grateful to have all hands on deck.”

She smiled. “You have that effect on cookies, I think. It’s hard not to be swayed by your plans. Even when you are making threats about-”

“Really.” He waved a hand at her. “I am a healer. Not a strategist.” She chuckled and stepped closer to the window.

When she stepped into the light, he had a clearer view of her own outfit, which suited her perfectly. She wore a simple black suit, easy to move in, with purple detailing. A purple cape was draped over one shoulder, and he had ordered a new glove for her so she could still hold her crows.

They had little time to speak before the rest of their party joined them—the visitors from the Creme Republic, his new party planners, Espresso Cookie, and a very miffed Strawberry Crepe Cookie. He had requested the use of their wafflebots to set up decorations, and they had reluctantly agreed, though not without protest about how poor of a use this was for them. As for the rest of them, Pure Vanilla had prepared a briefing.

“Alright, everyone.” He clapped his hands together. “Thank you for being here. Things have been… I believe ‘chaotic’ is putting it mildly, as of late. Now. It is my hope that coming together to celebrate the capture of our spies-" the spies in question bowed, "will help ease tensions and build trust. In my experience, working together on a shared goal can bring cookies together well. However. I imagine that some may still be afraid, and a simple party will not be enough to ease their worries. I want all of us on guard, should any arguments or conflicts break out.” His committee nodded with varying expressions of excitement, anxiety, and concern. “Now then. Please. Enjoy yourselves. We have several days to get through.” He said the last sentence with a heavy sigh.

As they scattered, he pulled Opera Cookie and Maple Syrup Cookie aside.

“I want to thank you,” he said. “I’m still not entirely sure if you are helping me because you believe anything I’ve said, or if you’re just here for the humor of it all, but. Thank you, regardless. I do mean what I’ve said. If you ask for it, you will have a place here.”

“Hmm.” Opera Cookie considered him. “I do not think you’re going to make good on your threats,” he admitted. “But I think it was a good play. Way to hook the audience, you know?” A smirk was playing on his features. “I think you could, but you wouldn’t. Look at you!” Pure Vanilla frowned. What about him? “I think we will stay for now. We’ll see.” That made him nervous, but they had done well so far. 

“Hey.” Maple Syrup Cookie tugged on his cape. “HEY!” Her eyes were wide. “Can we go see how everything looks? We did a lot of work, you know.”

“You did,” Pure Vanilla agreed. Goodness. “Alright. Swear to me you will not spread too much chaos, and you can see the end result of your hard work.” They were both giving each other side glances, and he crossed his arms. “I will have Black Raisin send a few of her crows to follow you. If I hear of anything-”

“Of course.” Opera Cookie laughed. “You’ve made your threat against us quite clear.”

“Please. Just enjoy yourselves like normal cookies?”

“We are not normal cookies,” Maple Syrup giggled.

“But we can play the part,” her ‘brother’ interrupted. “We’ll be on our way now. Ta ta!”

When Pure Vanilla finally stepped out into the courtyard, Black Raisin Cookie was waiting for him, holding out an arm to guide him. The kingdom had been transformed overnight. Artisans had been contracted to make decorations, tapestries that had not hung in centuries were scattered across every wall, everything was alight with colorful lanterns, and everything smelled of fresh flowers. He had taken some cues from the faerie kingdom. This was not even the best of it, he knew. Now that things were underway, everyone was eager to contribute to the celebrations. Already, it seemed working together on this had mended some tensions. Two cookies that he had seen fighting only a few days ago were now making amicable conversation at a food stall. Yes, happiness was a good antidote.

It warmed his heart to hear music around every corner. At every stall he visited, cookies were cheerfully making conversation, and the sound of laughter was such a pleasant change of pace. He couldn’t keep the smile off of his face, even as anxiety and apprehension pooled inside of him. His friend’s presence at his side was reassuring as she guided him through the busy streets, and he made sure to greet every citizen he could by name. Everything was alive. The music in the air, the smell of pastries which made his mouth water, the scent of flowers blooming. It was all of spring condensed into a single celebration. For all of his misgivings about their intentions, Opera Cookie and Maple Syrup cookie had delivered on this. If he ever had the chance, he would commend Shadow Milk for choosing his allies well. Black Raisin squeezed his arm.

“You did well,” she said approvingly. “Stop panicking.” Was he panicking? Yes, after a moment, he realized his heart rate was extraordinarily high. He took a deep breath in and counted to ten.

“Thank you, my friend.” A crow flew down and landed on her shoulder, and they both hushed their voices to listen to it chatter.

“It seems the people are happy,” she said. “Thank goodness. I don’t know if I could handle hearing about another… incident.” He could tell she was still tense—her hand still squeezed his arm like she was trying to break it. They rounded a corner and found themselves in a clearing where a band was playing, and Pure Vanilla stopped to savor the music. His heart felt lighter, hearing harmony over discord. Truly, nothing brought people together like an excuse to celebrate.

“Dance with me?” He nudged her shoulder, and she scoffed.

“I don’t dance.”

“Please? I want the people to feel like they’re a part of the same kingdom again. That has to start somewhere.” He smiled softly. Perhaps it was also just an excuse to spend time with one of his dearest friends, but then again, wasn’t everything? Anything worth doing put him close to his friends.

“Alright. Put your cream sheep eyes away, I’ll play along.” She stepped away and held out a hand. “I’m a terrible dancer, though. I mean really, I’m atrocious.”

“Just imagine you’re fighting me, instead!” He laughed as she pulled him into the crowd.

“I would never. And I would win.”

As they entered the clearing, cookies backed up to give them room, so Pure Vanilla held out a hand to the first villager he could. Nervously, she accepted, and was quickly pulled into the circle. Black Raisin followed his steps, good at reading him after years of friendship. As terrible as she claimed to be, it brought him a great amount of joy to spend this time with her, and that was really all that mattered with dancing. The band picked up the pace, happy to accompany them. Through his hazy vision, he could see that they, too, were dancing, swaying as much as they could while making music. With the ice broken, the rest of the cookies in the clearing were eager to join in, and the dance got faster and faster. He remembered learning the steps to a dance like this a long, long time ago, before the Dark Flour War. The smell of flowers in the air and the feeling of wind whistling in his ears took him to a time long gone, and for a moment, he could almost forget that times were hard. They whirled around the square, and his braid and his cape spun wildly around him.

As soon as it was clear she was no longer needed, Black Raisin slipped away. He knew she was far more content to watch from the outskirts, and he was happy to let her go. With the rest of his people, he danced, letting them guide him when he couldn’t see the steps. He was a fast learner. His heart was warm, and his feet felt impossibly light on the ground, like he might lift into the air and start floating. Outside of this circle, he knew, paranoia had not vanished entirely. One party would not fix everything, he was not as naive as others believed him to be. But… it was a start. Tension was starting to melt away.

The dance began to pick up its final momentum, and the circle drew closer together. One hand found his and clasped it tight, and another pressed against his waist. A few strands of hair fell out of his braid, and he felt it brushing against his face. Moving so quickly, it was hard to tell whose hand he was holding, but he was able to follow the steps to their end. As the music came to its final chord, he took his final step, placing him chest to chest with his mystery partner. His lungs were heaving, and his legs were shaking, finally bearing the weight of having had very little to eat all day. His partner’s breath was heavy too. The hammering of his heart nearly drowned out all noise. The ground gave way, and his stomach turned like he had fallen from a great height. He hoped someone would catch him when he passed out.

No… no. This wasn’t a fainting spell. His vision was clear, despite the ringing in his ears. As a healer, he should know better. No... his legs really had lifted off the ground. He was suspended in mid-air, held only by the hands of his dancing partner, whom he could not see. A voice whispered in his ear, with a softness that he did not feel he deserved.

“Miss me, Nilly?”

Chapter Text

Pure Vanilla opened his mouth, started to ask a million questions, tried to voice every thought that was spinning in his head, but Shadow Milk shushed him, placing a finger over his lips. They were still hovering in mid air. The cookies on the ground below were beginning to talk. He could not make out the words, but he could hear their voices, indistinct and curious. His stomach was dropping out beneath him, his breath quickening. Surely, Shadow Milk Cookie would not drop him from such a height. No, the hand around his waist was firm, and he felt weightless. There was a warmth settling over him, even as he was pulled further into the air. Safety. Spiraling into the air, he knew that he was completely safe. And that was when the dizziness hit him, and darkness crept into the edges of his vision. He was able to choke out a single phrase in the commotion.

“You came back?”

Panic flashed over his companion’s face, as though he had not thought this part through. In the same half-second, that panic dissipated and a sharp smile took over. Were Pure Vanilla not as perceptive as he was, he expected he would not have caught it. As quickly as he had arrived, Shadow Milk summoned a portal and threw them both through it.

Pure Vanilla blinked the dizziness away and tried to make out the shapes of furniture in the dark. They were in Shadow Milk's room. Still decorated, still ready for a guest to occupy it. The room that so resembled the spire. The room that had been waiting. Pure Vanilla used the foot of the bed to steady himself as he stood.

Shadow Milk Cookie’s expression was unreadable. For a moment, he hung in midair, looking winded. His breaths were rapid, pained. One hand was curled into a fist over his chest. Graciously, he did not comment on the fact that the room was still decorated. Pure Vanilla considered speaking up to get his attention, but the look on his face made him think better of it. Shadow Milk was acting against his nature by returning at all, the least Pure Vanilla could do was give him some silence.

Patience.

He could be patient.

As he watched Shadow Milk catch his breath, he admired the effort that must have gone into the outfit he was wearing. He had committed to an aesthetic quite well; he was dressed in blues and whites that made him resemble a blue jay. The ruffles around his neck had been replaced with a cape made of blue feathers, pinned in place by his soul jam. How had he known about the festival? It was possible, Pure Vanilla supposed, that he had been keeping an eye on things. That thought made his heart beat slightly faster.

Several options presented themselves. At worst, Shadow Milk’s intentions had not changed, and he was here to collect his dues. At best…

At best...

After what felt like an eternity, Shadow Milk spoke. “You look…” he frowned, eyes flitting this way and that in any direction that wasn’t Pure Vanilla.

“Hmm?” At the small reminder that he wasn’t alone, Shadow Milk startled, and his form turned into static for a moment.

“Nothing,” he scoffed. “You’re always so-” He stopped. “You look nice.”

“Thank you. And yourself.” Pure Vanilla hoped the flush on his face was not too visible. “How did you know about this?”

“The pipsqueak with the robots told me about it.” Shadow Milk stopped hovering and came to rest in front of him. He’d kept in touch with Strawberry Crepe? That was… oddly sweet.

“Thank you for coming.” His heart was pitter-pattering in his chest again. “It is.. good to see you. Though…” He sighed. Someone had to twist the knife. “This event would not have been necessary in the first place if you had not riled up my friends and subjects.”

Shadow Milk bristled and took a step back, but said nothing.

“Is that why you came back? To spread further deceit among my people?” He curled his hands into fists to steady them. He was trying to be patient.

“No, creators sake. I’ve already made my mark, I don’t need to-” Shadow Milk took a deep breath and smiled at him. Pure Vanilla’s dough prickled with the uncanny feeling one gets when looking at a mirror in the dark. The way familiar shapes in a low level of light caused the mind to wander. “I’m here to make sure that my followers are safe. I know they helped you plan this. I want to know why.”

“You- You were worried about them?” He had been under the impression their relationship was not quite so friendly. “I will be candid, I find that somewhat difficult to believe.” He felt cold. Frigid. It was so unlike him to be this upset, even at this particular cookie. It was not the kind of person he wanted to be. No, something else was bothering him, something he had yet to put a word to. “I apologize. That was… untoward.”

“No, I’m just making sure they can do their jobs, you-” Goodness, this was taking a lot of effort, wasn’t it? It took him a moment to gauge, to be sure of it, but it had to be. Shadow Milk was making an effort to be civil. “Yes. Fine. Fine. Ugh.” He threw his hands up in the air and then dragged them down his face, which melted into shadows before reforming. “I wanted to make sure you hadn’t threatened them into helping you. The great hero of truth, threatening other cookies into helping him, it was almost too good to be true!” He seemed to regain his footing halfway through this tirade, the familiar lilt returning to his voice.

“I did not threaten them,” Pure Vanilla replied sheepishly. That was not the sort of cookie he was. “I threatened you.” Oh, that felt cathartic to say. It should not have. He was upset. What was wrong with him? Guilt at his emotions, at thoughts he had not even voiced, it tore at him. He needed to be patient, level, compassionate. The kind of cookie he had always aimed to be. The kind of cookie he usually was. Even with Shadow Milk. Something had cut him deep, very deep. Until he could discern what it was, he could not forgive it, and he could not move on.

“What.” The pacing finally ceased. “What. You what?? Oh this- this is good. This is amazing. You told them you would find me if they didn’t cooperate??” Manic laughter caused his shoulders to shake. It scared Pure Vanilla when these laughing fits came over him. It seemed always like the closest his shadow could come to crying. “They agreed to that?”

“No. I told them I would kill you if they didn’t cooperate.” His stomach was tying itself in knots, and his hands could not sit still. Shadow Milk let out a sound that was probably a laugh, but Pure Vanilla was reminded more of a wolf howling.

“And they- they actually believed you would do it?” Joyless mirth—his voice was laden with it.

“They believed I was capable of it.” He said it very matter-of-factly. His heart was beating faster and faster. It felt wrong on so many levels, admitting to this. Something flickered in Shadow Milk’s eyes that he could not identify. It wasn’t fear. Pure Vanilla knew what fear looked like on his face. It wasn’t amusement, either. It was something else.

“And would you have?” He licked his lips. No, it wasn’t fear in his eyes. It was anticipation. Hungry, self-destructive anticipation.

“I would have hoped it did not come to that.” He had expected Shadow Milk to be angrier at that. Had expected blows, or to be swept up in another puppet show. He had not expected resignation.

Did-

Could it be possible that Shadow Milk wanted him to-

No.

That could not be right.

Not unless something was wrong, something he wasn’t accounting for.

Magic hummed under his hands, begging to seek answers, and he closed his fists to stop the pulse. He would not invade his other half’s privacy like that. That was a personal boundary he was very firm on as a healer. If it was not his business, he would do his best not to intercede, no matter how desperately he wished to help.

Shadow Milk took a step closer to him. “I’ve had time to mull over your offer, you know.” The eyes in his hair were all making direct eye contact. His tone was lilting, an unsettling sing-song that reminded Pure Vanilla greatly of his time in the spire. “It’s a pretty good gig, being your friend. I get my own room, my own clothes, a healer on call if any would-be heroes decide to come after me… You get the most handsome cookie on Earthbread as your personal entertainer...”

Pure Vanilla wondered, briefly, if his offer of friendship was still on the table. Shadow Milk had attacked him—he might have failed, but the desire had been there—he had spread deceit among innocent civilians, his followers had tampered with Strawberry Crepe’s machines, and... He had saved Pure Vanilla when it would have been in his best interest to do otherwise, he had returned to watch over his followers, he had come back.

“Hey,” Shadow Milk said. “I’m talking to you, did you go off somewhere?”

“You haven’t even asked me if my offer is still on the table,” Pure Vanilla murmured. He hoped this was not pushing it too far, but he had to confirm that this was not a new scheme. “I should not allow you to barge into my festivities after leaving in the middle of the night and expect nothing to have changed.” Will not, he wanted to say, but… he would. He always would.

Shadow Milk’s face contorted, and he expected the seething rage he knew was locked up in there, but all that he received in response was a frown. And... there was something else. The eyes in Shadow Milk’s hair were were wobbly, imperfect, leaking at the edges.

“Is it still on the table?” Pure Vanilla was not aware Shadow Milk’s voice was capable of such fragility. His heart ached. He reached out, touched Shadow Milk’s arm. He met no resistance.

“Yes. Yes it is. But…” he squeezed Shadow Milk’s shoulders. “How can I be sure you will not run away again?”

“If you want a promise from me, you’re going to have to try a bit harder than that, sweetness.” His voice was saccharine. Cloying. “Deceit does not thrive in absolutes, my dear scholar.”

“I am serious, Shadow Milk Cookie. Do not run from a good thing because you are afraid there is a sword hanging over your head. I swear to you, there is nothing hanging over you. At the very least, not from me.” He gripped Shadow Milk’s arms. “I am not playing games with you.”

Only silence in response.

“Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla bit his tongue. “I would not have done it.”

“What?”

“My threat to your followers. I would not have done it. Could not have.”

Shadow Milk fixed him with a stare that could have withered a garden. There were so many stories behind those eyes, he thought, so many words unspoken. How many centuries would it take to pull them forward? Those eyes stared into him, bored into his soul, and then… his gaze softened. Imperceptibly. Had the distance between them been even slightly greater, Pure Vanilla would not have seen it.

“Fine. Okay. Fine.” Shadow Milk spat. “Only to sate your endless worries, you know. I cannot be pinned down like one of your little friends, but… the next time the fancy takes me to leave, I’ll at least tell you that I’m going. Does that make you feel better?”

“Slightly.” It would have to do.

“Wonderful!” Shadow Milk clapped his hands together, and with that simple action, his mask settled into place once more. “Now then. I have questions, too. When you were talking to that peacock from the Creme Republic-”

“You were watching me.” His anger should have returned, but it didn’t. He felt oddly… comforted knowing that he had not been alone.

“I’m got eyes everywhere, sunflower.” Shadow Milk assumed a wolfish grin. “You neeever know what I might know.” Every time Pure Vanilla thought he was making progress, it seemed as though Shadow Milk took two steps back. No matter how close he got, he could only ever get halfway.

“And what do you know?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Regardless of motivations, I believe I would have helped him no matter what.” Shadow Milk repeated his words in an eerily perfect imitation of his voice. He had been listening closely, then.

“I did mean it.” Pure Vanilla tilted his head to the side. “I think I would have helped you no matter what. I have fear that this makes me foolish, but… I know who I am. There was never a reality where I would not offer to help you. As many times as it takes.”

“You’re so sanctimonious, do you ever hear yourself?” Shadow Milk, mimicking him, tilted his head to the side at an impossible angle, all teeth and shadows. It had been… unsettling and endearing in equal measure to see him make an attempt at sincerity. Seeing him act like a beast again made Pure Vanilla’s heart twist.

“Are you going to stay here?” He wasn’t sure if he meant the kingdom, the festival, or the room, but Shadow Milk had an eerie way of cutting through what he said and getting straight to what he meant. A hand came up and rested on his, where he was still holding Shadow Milk’s shoulder. What a picture they must have painted, clinging to one another like frightened children.

“It’s getting late.” What a… frustrating reply. “I might stay here, I might not. There are lies to spread everywhere, you know. I don’t think my lovably forgivable nature is shared by my friends and colleagues. If they know I’m here, with you, it’s gonna be one hell of a light show.”

“You thrive in chaos. Maybe that would be good for you.” Pure Vanilla’s heart was sinking. One step closer, but always only halfway. A paradox of dichotomy. He stepped back, breaking the physical contact.

“Why the long face, Nilly?” Shadow Milk’s face came into his field of vision, close enough to be fully visible. A finger poked his nose.

He did not respond.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stay for now! But if you don’t want to host someone as famous as me, you can just say so. Is it too much pressure? You wouldn’t want to crack, I understand, I- woah, hey.” Pure Vanilla realized he had reached out, that he had clung to Shadow Milk’s shirt and now was holding him in place. “You don’t have to be such a sap about it-”

“Do you want to be my friend?” It was so blunt, so to the point. His tone carried more distress than he had meant it to. Warmth rose to his face. He could feel Shadow Milk’s breath against his cheek. His legs were struggling to hold his weight again. Darkness was creeping in the edges of his vision, and his hands were cold, as though someone had plunged them into snow. His jaw was numb. His breath felt heavy.

“Do you need to lie down? You’re shaking.” That was not an answer to his question. This was normal for him, he wasn’t sure why Shadow Milk’s tone was verging on sincerity again. “I know my presence is exhilarating, and you really should feel lucky, but still. Try not to faint, for creators sake.” Unexpectedly gentle hands pulled him towards the bed, guided him into it. Shadow Milk had not answered his question. Briefly, the feeling of a kiss swam to the forefront of his mind.

“Please stay.” With his energy waning, his filter was gone. Pathetic, really. Like a scorned lover begging for more than a brief meeting. He wondered if he sounded as pathetic as he felt.

Shadow Milk said nothing. That would have to serve as an answer.

Pure Vanilla shut his eyes, waiting for the cold to hit him. Loneliness was no stranger to someone who had lived as long as he had. The feelings that had consumed him when his mind and Shadow Milk’s had been so blurred was not new. He had known it all his life. This was no different. His breathing slowed.

It had been a risky gambit letting Shadow Milk in, and he knew, deep down, that it had been a selfish one. He wasn’t just making an offer. He was making a request. And for what? Someone who understood him, who had seen him at his lowest, and stayed anyway. But Shadow Milk had seen him at his worst, and he had left.

The bed creaked. Softly, a blanket was pulled over his shoulders. He waited for something, anything else, but after a moment, the door opened and shut. He was alone.

He laid in the dark for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling. He had spent a long time decorating this room. Making his guest feel at home. Had it been his desire to be a good host, or his desire to out-do the master of deceit at a lie? Maybe it had been both. Regardless, the dark curtains and their winking starlight embroidery gave him no comfort. He was a fool. Trying to redeem a beast—he could no sooner train a wild wolf to guard his sheep.

The door re-opened. He turned over, trying to make out the figure that approached. Bright blue eyes, blue hands, and something in the hands that was being passed to him.

“What is this?” Forming words felt impossible. His tongue was heavy.

“Clothes,” came the soft reply. “You can’t sleep in that. You’ll ruin it.” Shadow Milk’s voice rang with righteous indignation. When he did not take whatever had been passed to him, Shadow Milk threw it at him. The fabric hit him square in the face, breaking him out of his stupor. In the dim light, he could just make out that Shadow Milk had shed the elaborate suit for something simpler—golden clothes Pure Vanilla had left him weeks ago, when they first started this dance of deceit.

“Oh,” Pure Vanilla said. “Well. Thank you.” He gingerly pushed himself out of the bed and took the clothes with him to a screen in the corner of the room. Almost immediately, he felt relief settle over him like the morning sun. The suit, though beautiful, had been stifling. The new freedom of movement made him feel more like a person. He dressed quickly in the simple robes Shadow Milk had brought him, and stepped back into the room. The fabric was soft and clean, and he felt like a new person.

“Are you coming, or do I need to sit here like some scorned lover?” Shadow Milk sat on the bed, arms crossed, looking rather irritable. Pure Vanilla couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that they had both drawn the same conclusion.

There was a tray of food on the bed. Shadow Milk had brought food. Was this a dream?

“Please do not think of this as a tryst,” Pure Vanilla said, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, oh I see, is the great former king of the Vanilla Kingdom inviting me over for a sleepover?? Does it feel better if I say it like that, Nilly?” The amusement on Shadow Milk’s face now was real. Of course he would take genuine joy in Pure Vanilla’s embarrassment.

“Not entirely.” Pure Vanilla climbed into the bed beside him, leaving a good amount of room between them. “How about this: the hero of truth is making sure the master of lies and deceit doesn’t plan to stab him in his sleep, and he is testing him by letting down his guard.”

“Now that sounds like a fun time.” Shadow Milk leaned in close, nose pressed into his cheek, and he whispered in his ear. “Do you feel safer with me here, Pure Vanilla Cookie?” His voice was laced with venom. Oh yes, they could banter and laugh with one another, but it was another reminder that they would never truly be close. Not the way Pure Vanilla wished they could be. There would always be a wall between them.

“They say to keep your friends close,” Pure Vanilla murmured. “And I am sure you know the rest of the aphorism.”

“Oh, I intend to keep you very close,” Shadow Milk replied. “I have you right where I want you.”

“In your bed?” Laughter bubbled up in his chest. He could almost forget how much damage control he still had left to do. Shadow Milk was laughing too, and he could feel the breath of it against his cheek. That was when an explanation for all of this rose to his mind.

This was a dream. It had to be.

He had passed out in the square, and now he was dreaming. As simple as that. It was mostly a pleasant dream, at least, a gift from his subconscious. He was going to enjoy it for all it was worth.

“Don’t try to banter, you’re bad at it.” Shadow Milk was laughing, high and bright. Pure Vanilla leaned into him. He was going to savor this dream.

“Whatever you say,” he replied. “You brought food?”

“You’re not listening to me.”

“I’m being tactful.”

“I’ve tried that before. Not for me. Not now, not ever. Sorry sunflower.” Shadow Milk grabbed one of his hands and guided it to the tray. “Eat.”

“...okay. Thank you.” He wanted to ask why, why Shadow Milk had brought food, why he always kept an eye out, why he cared whether Pure Vanilla was physically healthy. He knew he would not get a straightforward answer if he asked. If this was a dream, perhaps he would get an answer, but it would not be the truth. Any answer his mind could provide him with would be unsatisfying, biased. Poisoned by his own wants and desires.

The food was from one of the market stalls—a sweet jelly pie that warmed him and cleared his mind. Immediately, his vision was sharper, his hands less shaky. He noticed as well that his mind felt quieter now. Perhaps it was merely the food. Perhaps it was his soul jam, some remnant of it remembering who it used to belong to. Perhaps he simply enjoyed Shadow Milk’s company.

“Will you play cards with me?” He set his plate aside and the moved the tray out of the way.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” Shadow Milk replied flippantly. He leaned over to pick up the deck from the side table. Pure Vanilla felt an impulse to reach around his waist and catch him there, like he might fly away. “You would rather play cards than go and be the life of the party?” Shadow Milk asked.

“Tomorrow, I will wish to attend.” He sighed, feeling exhaustion settle over him. “Right now, I just want to savor this sweet dream.” Shadow Milk gave him an odd look, but set up a game regardless, right there on the bed, not bothering to move to the table in the corner.

Pure Vanilla did not last until the end of the game. They began playing, and he remembered setting his hand of cards down for a moment to yawn, and then the game was all forgotten. Sleep beckoned to him. Were he in his right mind, he would have fretted over the cards strewn across the sheets, but right now, it was far from his concern. This was such a nice dream. The bed was warm, the moon shone outside, and as he drifted away, he felt Shadow Milk shift closer and tuck himself into the space between Pure Vanilla’s arm and his side. Impossibly, he felt safe.

Chapter Text

Something was pinning him down. The sweetness of a good dream was fading away, leaving the unfamiliarity of a room that was not his. Pure Vanilla awoke with his heart hammering, clawing at the sudden weight on his chest. He was only able to move his left arm, and he was struggling to breathe. Static rippled through the dough of his right arm. His head was spinning. In the early morning light, it was hard to make out what he was looking at. Something about the size of a cookie? With his available hand, he struck out, trying to free himself, and the something on his chest grumbled.

“Let me wake up before you kill me,” Shadow Milk mumbled, his face partially muffled by Pure Vanilla’s shoulder.

“Oh, goodness.” Pure Vanilla felt heat rise to his face. “Oh, I am so sorry, really. I thought-” It had not been a dream. “You’re really here.”

“No, I’m an illusion conjured from the depths of your mind. The thing you want more than anything else in the world, and you can’t have it.” He was smiling. Pure Vanilla swatted at him, on purpose this time. There were still so many things to discuss, but right now, he was content to exist in this moment of peace. Perhaps they could not be as close as he wished, but so long as Shadow Milk was content to exist in his company, he was going to savor it. There was a time for patience, and there was a time to hold fast to a sweet thing while it was still within your grasp. This was the latter.

He pushed Shadow Milk to the side just enough to free his arm.

Shadow Milk sighed into his shoulder. “You’re so cruel, Nilly, do you know that?”

If he had known the beast of deceit could be so easily pacified by physical affection, he would have altered his strategies in the spire.

“Yes, yes, I know. Much like the truth, I am cruel and unyielding.” Pure Vanilla reached around him and squeezed his shoulder. “You get five minutes, and then I must dress. The festival is continuing for the next few days, I cannot miss any more of it than I have.” He wanted to stay here. He wanted to sit in bed and drink up every moment he got with this Shadow Milk Cookie, before whatever voice there was inside of him reared its head and reminded him that Pure Vanilla was his enemy. This impossible domesticity, this bliss, he did not know how long it would last.

Lost in thought as he was, it took him a moment to register Shadow Milk’s voice speaking to him.

“Hello?? Earthbread to Nilly? Crispia, we’ve got a problem. The hero of truth has gone catatonic. Caaaan youuu heaaar meeee?” Shadow Milk was poking his face and trying to prompt a reaction. “Lies are going to spread like fire now! No one can say what’s true anymore! It’s the best day of Shadow Milk Cookie’s life! Someone do something!” Pure Vanilla huffed out a laugh.

“Just lost in thought. I’m a dreadful host, I know.” He could not help but smile. Shadow Milk gave him a funny look, but made no further comment.

“The worst,” Shadow Milk agreed after a moment. “I’m a much better host.” Idly, Pure Vanilla reached up and took hold of a loose strand of dark hair. It reacted to his touch, curling around his wrist. In the darkness, an eye appeared and blinked at him.

“Are you, now? What would you have done differently?”

Shadow Milk huffed and sat up. “For starters, I would not faint just because a dashingly handsome cookie offered me a dance.”

“Where is this dashingly handsome cookie?”

Shadow Milk swatted his shoulder. “And I would not fall asleep in the middle of playing cards with my guest. Really, Nilly. You’re terrible at this.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Pure Vanilla tried to remove his hand from Shadow Milk’s hair. The bind around his wrist tightened. “You forget that I have had my taste of your hosting before. I have to say, I was not the greatest fan of your hospitality.”

“No? You did say we belonged together. Surely my efforts counted for something.”

That settled over him like a chill. He had been deceiving Shadow Milk when he had said that. Now, having spent more time together… He found that it held even more true. Where Shadow Milk was leaning against him, his dough was warm. The world felt full of promise.

“Yes,” Pure Vanilla murmured. “I did say that.”

“Well, well!” Shadow Milk’s hair released him. Shrill laughter echoed in his ear. “Would you look at the time! I believe it’s time for you to go now! Time to go get dressed! Up, up up, time to carpe diem!”

“Has it been five minutes already? I’m terribly sorry, but I really must get ready.” Pure Vanilla made one last bid for connection. “Will you be joining me?”

Shadow Milk regarded him with curiosity for a moment, eyes shining.

“Fine, okay. Someone has to keep an eye on you.” Shadow Milk winked. Whatever brief vulnerability had possessed him, it had passed, and his Cheshire smile made its return. His teeth were so sharp when he wanted them to be. Pure Vanilla was staring. “Hey, eyes off the merchandise. I haven’t even done my costume change yet.”

Dutifully, Pure Vanilla looked away and pushed himself off of the bed. “I need to go get dressed, myself,” he said. “Please set my mind at ease and tell me my palace will not be destroyed if I leave you alone for thirty minutes.”

“If I wanted to destroy your palace, I would have done it by now, silly,” Shadow Milk replied flippantly. Pure Vanilla laughed.

“I will meet you in the council meeting hall in thirty minutes,” he reiterated. “Your followers will be there, if you would like to confirm I have not done anything to them.”

Shadow Milk started to say something, but Pure Vanilla was already sweeping out of the room and shutting the door, hoping no one saw him leave the room in his bedclothes.

It did not escape his notice that the playing cards had been placed back in their box.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Pure Vanilla pinched the bridge of his nose, looking at his own reflection. He was the first to arrive, and now he was stuck ruminating over his outfit and hoping it wasn’t too much. Blue feathers and forget-me-nots were woven into his hair, a white cape draped low off of his shoulders, and blue robes with delicate and intricate white detailing shrouded him. He felt like a teacup. The buttons fastening his robe together were shaped like eyes, a touch he had been rather proud of. His soul jam was still pinned to his chest. His choice of placement for his soul jam, so close to his heart, had always been a point of pride for him. Like wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“You look like a teacup,” Black Raisin commented. He had not heard her approach, but that was typical. He was only slightly startled. “On anyone else, I would think it looked a little bit ridiculous.”

“...and on me?” He asked wearily.

“You look like a nice teacup.” She took a seat at the table. “Stop ogling your reflection, I’m sure it’s fine. If anything, looking a little bit gaudy isn’t the worst idea. It takes people’s minds off of how tired you look.”

“I don’t look that tired.”

“You look like a student during finals week,” she snorted. “Have you eaten?”

He sighed and bid his reflection farewell to join her. He hadn’t. There had been… other things on his mind. It was never a conscious choice, the forgetting, but his tendency to neglect his own well-being was slowly being noticed more and more by the cookies around him. Having it so openly spoken about embarrassed him. After his spell yesterday, though, perhaps having so many friends looking out for him was wise.

At her behest, he picked something from the food laid out in front of him and took a bite of the softest muffin he had ever tasted. It was wrapped in red paper, topped with sea salt and a tart glaze. Berries exploded on his tongue. It was warm, and soft, and he felt energy flowing through him immediately.

“You were right,” he admitted between bites. “I think I needed that.”

“You have crumbs on your face, my liege,” she chuckled.

“Oh, don’t you start with me too. I got enough jokes about my former position from Shadow Milk.”

They were laughing still when the doors swung open again, and Candy Apple Cookie and Black Sapphire Cookie made their entrance. He gave them a hearty round of applause. They were both dressed to the theme, though they had not donned their disguises yet, and he felt a bit of relief seeing the clear pride on their faces.

“Yesterday went well,” Black Sapphire announced. “It is… a change of pace from the work we normally do, but. I would be remiss to pretend I didn’t enjoy myself. A little bit.”

“Can we just keep doing this forever?” Candy Apple was always a bit more energetic than her counterpart. “So many cookies gave me gifts because they heard that I helped plan this!”

“They gave Maple Syrup Cookie gifts,” Black Sapphire corrected. “They would give you a very different reception.”

“You always have to ruin it, don’t you?” She scowled at him.

Pure Vanilla chuckled and beckoned for them to join him at the table.

“I am glad to hear that you are both taking pride in your work,” he said. “The people are less afraid, and that is a start. You have made an attempt to remedy the damage you did to my kingdom, and I thank you for that.” They both nodded, seemingly unsure how to take such unabashed praise. “Please, eat something,” he added. “We have some time before we ought to go into town. You should keep your energy up.”

“Rich coming from you,” a voice behind him whispered. A chill ran down his spine. He startled, nearly leaping out of his seat. How on Earthbread had Shadow Milk managed to sneak in here unseen?

“It is rude to sneak up on people,” Pure Vanilla began, but he trailed off when he turned.

Shadow Milk wore white robes, clearly modified from some of Pure Vanilla’s own, embroidered in gold. The two of them looked for all the world like a matched set. The pins fastening his cape shut, just below his soul jam, were sunflowers. His eyes glittered with delight, and Pure Vanilla felt the need to steady himself against the table.

“Hello,” he murmured, cursing himself for how much fondness snuck into his voice.

“I’m surprised you’re so happy! I had to tear apart your closet to put this ensemble together, you know.” Shadow Milk looked… genuinely a little bit frustrated at Pure Vanilla’s reaction. Perhaps this had merely been an attempt to get a rise out of him. There was no time to interrogate that; Candy Apple was already barreling towards Shadow Milk. She nearly knocked him off balance, and Pure Vanilla chuckled.

As Shadow Milk reunited with his followers, Pure Vanilla’s mind wandered. It almost seemed like this peace would last. Hoping to distract himself, he turned to make conversation with Black Raisin.

“Everything is going okay,” she assured him. “A few decorations took damage from some strong winds overnight, but the villager cookies are already fixing it. Everything is taken care of.” She gave him a comforting smile. “We can just enjoy ourselves today, okay?” They both were familiar with the burden of leadership. It felt good to let go of that burden, to lean on others for help.

“It does feel nice to just have calm,” he agreed. Though it was true, his heart was still hammering. He knew he would not be entirely heeding her advice.

“You’ve done well,” she assured him. “Settling the people, but also with… him.” She gestured. Shadow Milk and his companions were deep in conversation, and he seemed… happy. Genuinely happy. “I wasn’t sure about it when you let him in, but… he seems to listen to you, and that’s more than I can say for some of your friends-” he gave her a friendly nudge, “-so well done, you.”

“Thank you. Your faith in me eases some of my worry. I still have my… concerns, but so long as he is acting so friendly, I am going to enjoy it.” This still felt like the calm before the storm.

“Friends!” A commanding voice cut into their conversation. Clotted Cream Cookie made his entrance, tailed by Financier Cookie and Espresso Cookie. It seemed they had had something of a reunion. “It is good to see you all in good spirits. Pure Vanilla Cookie, I wish I could have seen more of you yesterday. Of course, given your condition, I don’t blame you for retiring to your room. Black Raisin Cookie told me you had some sort of fainting spell?”

“Ah,” Pure Vanilla glanced over at her. “Yes. A friend took me back to the palace to recover.” A shoulder brushed against his. He did not have to look to know who. While Clotted Cream was looking elsewhere, he mouthed a soundless ‘thank you’ to Black Raisin for covering for him. They would need to speak more.

“Yesterday was a success, I must say.” Clotted Cream resumed his diatribe. “I am surprised at how quickly the festivities have quelled their minds. Your new… party planners… they do their jobs well.” The aforementioned party planners smiled picture perfect smiles.

“I hire only the best,” Shadow Milk muttered.

“Pardon me,” Clotted Cream interjected. “It seems your… beast friend has returned.” There was a waver in his voice, just a note of anxiety, a note that Pure Vanilla was desperate to assuage.

“Charmed.” Shadow Milk’s voice came out as a hiss. Pure Vanilla chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking, and then reached out and took Shadow Milk’s hand. For a moment, he doubted this decision. The hand in his was still, like touching a statue. Then Shadow Milk squeezed his hand, three times.

“I-” the Consul looked beside himself with confusion. “Pure Vanilla Cookie, I am trying my very best to trust your judgment on the inclusion of this beast in our meeting, but...” He grimaced and stopped to think over his next words very carefully. Financier Cookie muttered something to him. Pure Vanilla felt dizzy. Conditions were rife for a fight to break out, and he knew it. Shadow Milk was making a fizzing noise, like a geyser ready to pop, and Financier Cookie’s hand was on her sword. Shadows were beginning to creep across the floor.

“May I speak with you?” Pure Vanilla pulled away from Shadow Milk and crossed the hall towards Clotted Cream. “Privately.”

He was drawing on previously untold patience, even for him. This was not going to come to blows. Not in this room, not again. He looked over at Black Raisin and gave her a pleading look. He hated how much he was putting on her here, but he could not be in two places at once. He would make it up to her, somehow. As soon as this festival business was sorted, he would arrange a vacation for her, if she would accept it.

“Alright, everyone,” Black Raisin said. She got the message. “Let’s clear out.”

The rest of the party followed without too much complaint, but Shadow Milk gave him a wounded look as he passed. He could not tell if that was genuine or just more melodrama. He had only just begun to peel back the layers and see Shadow Milk’s true emotions, and he felt like he had made no progress at all. With a sigh, he gave him a look that he hoped communicated ‘wait for me.’ Once everyone had left the room, Pure Vanilla leaned on the table and sighed.

“Consul, if I’m being perfectly candid, I do not know why he is still here.” The truth could, at times, be used as a tool. In this case, he hoped it lent him some leniency if he presented himself as taking a side.

“And yet you permit him to interrupt your meetings and interfere with your business?” Clotted Cream looked… concerned, at best. Not angry, not disgusted, just concerned. “As the founder of the Vanilla Kingdom and a wielder of soul jam, your words hold a lot of sway. If you are willing to place your faith in another cookie, it means quite a lot. If your judgment is wrong…”

“I do not believe it is.” He lowered his voice. “I do not believe Shadow Milk Cookie means to do any harm, because, if I may be honest, he has had the opportunity and foregone it multiple times.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“I have turned my back to him many times, I have given him ample opportunity to strike me, I have left him alone with my friends and colleagues, and he has done them no harm. I can only speculate as to why, but… as far as I can tell, he means us no harm.” No, that wasn’t enough information. “It was Shadow Milk that rescued me from my fainting spell, yesterday.”

Pure Vanilla remembered how winded Shadow Milk had been after that escapade, panting as though he had run a marathon, and chose to omit that element of the truth. It felt important to grant Shadow Milk some privacy.

“Interesting.” Clotted Cream stroked his chin. “Very well. If you believe he poses no threat, and, as you say, has taken an interest in your health, I will trust you on this. However, if this changes, if he makes any move to threaten this kingdom, myself and Financier Cookie will not hesitate to step in. I have too much love in my heart for the Vanilla Kingdom to see its history tarnished. Thank you for trusting me with this.”

It seemed private conversation had stoked Clotted Cream’s ego. Everyone liked to feel like their input was important—it was a good way to assuage fears. Pure Vanilla had learned a thing or two from Shadow Milk after all. He smiled. “Of course. You are a political figure, and it serves you to know when your people may be at risk; you are also a friend, and I trust you.”

“I hope to see you around the festival today,” came the reply. Clotted Cream left the room with new vigor in his steps.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“I would like to spend the day with you.” Pure Vanilla halted outside the council hall and stared into the shadows. There was no sign of his other half, but that was no evidence that he wasn’t here. If he looked closely, he was certain something was off. He had to lean in close to see it, and his vision was blurry, but he could see it. There were spiraling patterns on the surface of one of the shadows. Shimmering reflections, like the surface of an oil spill. “Shadow Milk Cookie. I know you are here.”

“Wow, forward, aren’t we?” Shadow Milk stepped out of the shadow, and although he had been expecting it, Pure Vanilla still startled. There was a moment after his appearance where Shadow Milk wavered, unsteady in his movements, and then he hovered into the air as though it had not happened. “I’ve only just come back, and you’re already begging to take me out?”

“I am serious,” Pure Vanilla replied. This game of cat and mouse tired him. “I would like to be your friend, Shadow Milk. That means spending time with one another.” Stress could only bond two cookies so far before it became unhealthy. A friendship built on stress alone would crumble.

“I don’t know if you can handle that, Nilly. A whole day with me by your side? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I like the sound of my own beautiful voice. Your ears might start to bleed.” Shadow Milk was hovering in lazy circles around him, tracing a finger across his chest.

“Humor me?” Pure Vanilla tilted his head to the side. “I humored you in the spire.” Shadow Milk heaved a very dramatic, full body sigh, and then fell in step beside him.

“Fiiiiiine.” Despite his protestations, Shadow Milk held out an arm to guide him, and Pure Vanilla accepted it gratefully. It felt right, walking beside his shadow, like he belonged there. When they were this close, he felt a warmth in his chest, an ease of movement, the same weightlessness one feels in a pleasant dream. He could chase that feeling for as long as he lived. As they navigated the complex passageways of the castle, Pure Vanilla swore he would remember every detail of this, were it all to come falling like a house of cards.

He turned to the side to properly see his companion. “Do you have much experience sewing? You made your own costume, did you not?”

“I had a lot of time to sit and do nothing while my soul adjusted to my new body. It gets pretty boring in the spire with no do-gooders to torment.” When he laughed, Pure Vanilla could feel it, their sides pressed together as they were. “Not to mention, of course, all of the time I had to learn everything there was to know.” It was nothing really, barely a scrap of information about who had had been before, but Pure Vanilla took that modicum of trust and savored it like the greatest treasure.

“Your work is… impressive does not cover it.” It brought him immeasurable joy every time he learned about a new facet to his companion. “I am amazed. The detail work in the sleeves is-” he ran his fingers over the fabric. “It’s beautiful.” He glanced back up, and found that Shadow Milk’s eyes were wide, his face flushed a vibrant blue.

“You really, really know how to flatter ‘em,” Shadow Milk mumbled. “Take it easy, would you? I’m already here, you don’t need to dote on me.”

“I apologize. I am merely… I am excited to be spending time with you.” Heat rose to his cheeks. In the time he had spent with Shadow Milk, it was apparent that the breadth of his knowledge knew no bounds. How much could he learn from this cookie, he wondered, had they all the time in the world? He found himself wishing they could be closer, beyond this friendly banter. There was warmth there, and laughter, but the trust still wavered.

“It is nice to be appreciated.” Shadow Milk reached out and pushed open the main doors to the courtyard. The sun was so bright, and when it fell on Shadow Milk’s face, Pure Vanilla felt the breath leave him for a moment. “At least someone in this place has good taste.”

Then Shadow Milk turned to him. “And you? What does the great hero of truth do when he’s not mucking up my plans?”

“Ah,” Pure Vanilla said. What did he do? He managed things in the kingdom. He read. He worked. No, he had to approach the question differently.

Were he entertaining a friend, what activities would he choose? “Well… I read? I dance, poorly, and I sing, even worse.” At that, Shadow Milk’s eyes lit up. Oh, he was going to be asked to make good on that, that much was certain. He dreaded it. “I used to play chess, as you know well—and other strategy games, when I spent more time with Dark Cacao Cookie. I like to think I play alright, but I don’t hold a candle to his skill at strategy. Have you ever played gomoku? It is simple to learn, but it is remarkable how long a game can stretch when both players can read one another well.”

“I have the rule books to every board game in existence up here,” Shadow Milk snorted. He tapped a finger against his forehead.

“Would you like to play sometime?” His cheeks burned with how much he was smiling. Hope was such a dangerous thing.

“Do you like losing?”

“Hmm.” Pure Vanilla just hummed at that. They were approaching town now. The promise of more time spent getting to know one another warmed his heart. It felt like a weight off of his shoulders. When they arrived in town, his feeling of relief only grew. The festivities were already in full swing, and cookies were occupying every bit of space, talking and enjoying the break from normal life. Music drifted through the streets, merry and playful. His heart was singing. Everything was singing.

The first place Shadow Milk dragged him to was a stall selling baked goods, where he purchased a cheese danish that he was quick to foist onto Pure Vanilla with a mildly threatening smile.

The icing glaze across the top of the pastry was carefully laid in lattice patterns, and the edges had been folded such that the cheese center looked like a flower with a small jam center. When he bit into it, butter and sweet cheese coated his tongue and icing flaked off onto his lips. The layers of pastry and the soft cheese melded together into a taste that took him back to his younger years, sharing food around a fire with his friends. He could almost feel the heat of it, still.

“It’s wonderful,” Pure Vanilla murmured. He knew the citizens of the Vanilla kingdom were talented at baking, but it still amazed him to try their new creations. If Shadow Milk would continue smiling at him the way he was in that moment, Pure Vanilla thought he would buy out every single stall in the market. “You know, I constantly find myself stunned by the wealth of people I spend my time around,” he said. “I understand Golden Cheese Cookie’s greed when I spend time in town. I would not want to lose these treasures.” It was not his intention to make eye contact at that, but when he turned, his eyes met his shadow’s, and he covered his face with his staff, feeling sheepish.

“Your greed sickens me.” Shadow Milk leaned into him, hard, causing him to stumble. Pure Vanilla leaned back, shoving him to the side, and they stumbled off of the main walkway and into some bushes. Shadow Milk was laughing—not manic, just high and bright, like bells. Pure Vanilla was already tugging him back onto the sidewalk, beaming, his heart full. He reached over and brushed leaves out of Shadow Milk’s hair.

Pure Vanilla cleared his throat and made an offer. “I believe there’s some sort of theater happening in the town square today. A famous mystery author tried her hand at writing a play, and I hear good things about it. Would you like to see it? Not that it could hold a candle to anything you could create.” Flattery went a long way, he could see the gears turning behind those mismatched eyes. His efforts paid off, and Shadow Milk allowed him to lead the way to the makeshift stage, where chairs and blankets and benches had been laid out. They picked a bench on the side of the square, and Pure Vanilla gave his friend plenty of room to sit.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The play was… not what he had expected. He was aware that the author typically wrote standard mystery fare, but for a festival of springtime, surely something more appropriate was in order? But no. The play they watched was a mystery, a creeping suspense story about lies and deceit and an attempted theft. He was on the edge of his seat for the entire performance, completely engrossed in it. It almost slipped his notice that during a particularly tense scene, he had reached across the distance between them and taken Shadow Milk’s hand. Almost. It would have completely evaded him if Shadow Milk had not continued to run his thumb over Pure Vanilla’s knuckles.

To some extent, he found the play a touch cathartic. Perhaps, in some small part, he saw himself in the web of lies the protagonist found herself trapped in, distrusting of her reality. When they play reached its final scene, he felt immense relief at the applause from the crowd. He had worried that the themes would stoke their fear, but he saw only delighted expressions. Perhaps the catharsis of a suspenseful story and a happy ending was exactly what they needed.

“Well, well.” Shadow Milk leaned over and spoke over the applause. His hand was still in Pure Vanilla’s. “You didn’t tell me the theater here was so top notch! I was expecting some sort of fairy tale about springtime, but this was something. Really, Nilly, I’m hurt.”

“You are being sarcastic.”

“No, really, I love watching cookies do my own job worse than me! Tell a cookie you’re going to show him a play, and you forget to mention it’s a play about deceit​? I could do so so so much better.”

“I thought it was alright,” Pure Vanilla muttered. “Though it did feel a bit dark for this particular festival.”

Around them, cookies were chattering happily, some of them wide-eyed with shock and others grinning with delight. He supposed that if they had enjoyed it, it was alright. As he stood, he held out an arm to Shadow Milk. His new seeing-eye-shadow accepted it. Pure Vanilla’s heart was doing loops in his chest. “I thought at times that it was a bit unclear what was actually true or not,” he commented.

“That’s because you’re too trusting,” Shadow Milk snorted. “You’d be easy to trick. Let me try.” He cleared his throat and placed his free hand over his heart. “Oh, goodness me, those eyes within the shadows? You’re just seeing things, silly Vanilly. Your vision has always been bad, after all.”

“You sound too believable.” He knew it was all in jest, but it only reminded him how tenuous their friendship was. Only humor, never trust.

Shadow Milk continued. “And of course, the power isn’t out at all, your eyesight is just getting worse.” Sarcasm hung off of every word.

“The power isn’t out, Shadow Milk.” Alright, fine. Shadow Milk had managed to pull some laughter out of him. “Clotted Cream sent engineers to fix it.”

“Maybe that’s all in your head too. There never was a Clotted Cream Cookieee.” He trailed off this last sentence in a ghostly wail, pulling hard on Pure Vanilla’s arm. Pure Vanilla chuckled lightly and shook his head. “I’m very good at this,” Shadow Milk insisted.

“Yes, yes. Alright. I concede! I feel thoroughly deceived.”

“No you don’t,” he replied in perfect deadpan. At that, Pure Vanilla did laugh, genuinely laughed, until his face hurt. Shadow Milk laughed with him, and for a moment, the joke itself didn’t even matter, had barely been funny at all, and he was just laughing at the delight of spending time with a friend. Spending time with Shadow Milk. He could have lived in that moment forever, could have bottled up Shadow Milk’s laughter and gotten drunk off of it.

He received no such opportunity. As soon as the moment began, it ended, cut off by his responsibility as a leader rearing its ugly head. For each task he completed, three more took its place.

Someone was shouting.

Immediately, Pure Vanilla turned his gaze away from his companion. He couldn’t see the chaos from here. His staff appeared in his outstretched hand, and he was already running. He did not wait for Shadow Milk. Either he would help, or he wouldn’t.

Pure Vanilla ran into the crowd, trying to see anything through the panic. He heard something from behind him, something in Shadow Milk’s distinctive voice, but he had already blocked it out.

In a side alley, where several vendors had prepared goods for the day, he found the source of the chaos. Two cookies were tangled up in a brawl, throwing blows and causing sparks to rain over the street. They had already caused significant damage; an awning to the side had a hole torn through it, and one of the vendors stalls was singed. The cookies were yelling over the noise, each blaming the other for some mishap or another—he couldn’t fully understand the details through their overlapping voices. There was a thick fog in the air, a lavender haze that smothered him and clouded his senses.

“What is the meaning of this?” He raced forward, not mindful of where his feet fell. An unpleasant taste settled on his tongue. “What is happening?”

“The spy,” a cookie beside him jeered. “He has caught the spy!”

“The spy?” Anxiety pooled in his stomach. His feet were rooted to the floor. They were still on about this? There was no spy.

“No,” another, gruffer voice insisted. “The spy is the one winning! Please, do something!” Hands clung to Pure Vanilla’s cloak. “Do something about this! Stop them!”

“Yes,” another cookie pleaded. “Please, stop this!” Her face looked familiar. Pure Vanilla closed his eyes took a deep, steadying breath.

When he opened them and blinked the fog out of his eyes, he saw Hollyberry Cookie in front of him. Was she not in her kingdom? What business had brought her back here? Tall though he was, she made him feel small, and right now she was advancing with fury in her eyes. Violet eyes. No, that wasn’t right, that wasn’t-

She gripped his hands. “Stop their fighting! You’re a hero, aren’t you? Please, Pure Vanilla Cookie! Stop cowering and do something!”

The cookie with the gruff voice stepped into the fray and gripped his shoulder tightly. “Yes, Pure Vanilla Cookie,” Dark Cacao Cookie’s voice said. No, that couldn’t be. This couldn’t be him.

The facsimile of his friend bore a fierce scowl. “Why are you not helping them? You should be more than capable.”

“You do not want to lose these treasures, do you?” Golden Cheese Cookie, with whom he had not spoken in so long, here, now?

“Please,” Pure Vanilla began. “Please, I want to help, but I don’t know what to do. I do not know how to stop this paranoia.”

“But you should.” White Lily Cookie’s voice, his dearest friend. She had returned so soon? “You should know what to do. You hold the light of truth, surely you can identify a spy in your own kingdom.”

“There is no spy,” he insisted, beginning to doubt himself.

“Isn’t there?” Her hands touched his face. Cold hands. Could it really be her? No, surely not.

A ringing began in his mind, harsh and piercing.

“There can’t be. Unless... It was a lie.” He clutched his head, but the ringing in his ears did not leave. “It was another lie, and I believed it. I was so gullible.” He had been made a fool. If someone handed him his undoing, he thought, he would accept it with open arms. Poor, foolish cookie that thought himself a shepherd, but he was really little more than a sacrificial lamb. “I was foolish. I- I believed that my people were safe, and I-”

“Nilly!” A voice cut through the noise. “Sunflower, can you hear me?” Hands wrapped around his waist from behind, and he was yanked out of the fray. He recognized this voice.

It continued to speak to him. “Pure Vanilla Cookie?”

Hearing his full name spoken in Shadow Milk’s voice felt wrong. This had to be another illusion. He thrashed against the hold, even as his captor continued to drag him away. The hands pulled him into an alley, and he blinked enough of the haze away to see clearly as his shadow pinned him to a wall.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Unhand me,” he growled. “My people are in danger, and I will not let some… phantom of my friends destroy me.”

“It is me, you old fool.” Shadow Milk’s voice was hoarse and ragged. The eyes in his hair, which was wild and unkempt, were losing their shape. The hands pinning his wrists were shaking. Shadow Milk’s movements were stilted, his arms held at a strange angle.

Shadow Milk continued to speak. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this—and it disgusts me, don’t worry—but you need to trust me. Ask me something only I would know. You’re a teacher, come onnn! Give me a pop quiz.”

Pure Vanilla stared at him. “Why did you leave me that night?”

The cookie before him shuddered, his form pulled in all different directions. He let go of Pure Vanilla’s wrists, and it was deathly clear that something was wrong with his hands. When he moved them, his face contorted with effort, as though he was pulling against an invisible force.

“Ask me literally anything else.”

“Are you injured?” He reached out a hand.

“Those are not good questions. I know you’re new to the concept, but you need to ask me something only I could answer.” Shadow Milk tucked his hands behind his back.

“Okay,” Pure Vanilla said. He had to weight the options. “Either, you are another illusion here to torment me, or you really are Shadow Milk Cookie. I do not know if the real Shadow Milk would ask me to trust him. I do not think he has that much faith in me.” He began to pace. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something flash across Shadow Milk’s face. “But if you are Shadow Milk, you are also affected by this strange fog, and…” He turned again. “And you are experiencing hallucinations, just as I am. So you must be seeing something that is drawing your attention to your hands. If you are a figment of my imagination, it is most likely my own magic that you see. If you are not, I am not sure. Perhaps the witches chains?”

“You’re not doing this right,” Shadow Milk said. He was breathless, pained. He stepped back. “You’re supposed to ask me questions. You know, prove my identity? I’m not a lateral thinking puzzle.”

“May I see your hands?” Pure Vanilla took a deep breath. He was going to trust that this really was Shadow Milk. The worst case scenario here was something he had already experienced. He had come out of that stronger. There was nothing that could come out of trusting Shadow Milk that had not already happened to him.

Shadow Milk nodded.

“Fine. If that’s what it takes for you to believe me.”

Pure Vanilla looked over his hands, but saw no injuries nor illusions. When Shadow Milk had moved closer, his elbows stayed bent, his hands hovering in the air. Like a puppet.

“I am sorry,” Pure Vanilla murmured. He took one hand and waved it in the air above his other half. Shadow Milk’s hands jerked with the motion, as though Pure Vanilla had pulled them to the side. “Tell me when I have the threads in my hand, please.”

Uncharacteristically quiet, Shadow Milk only nodded. His eyes followed Pure Vanilla’s hand, and after a moment, he choked out a sound. Pure Vanilla nodded and closed his fist around the air. Again, Shadow Milk’s hands followed the movement. Pure Vanilla lifted his staff and hooked it around threads he could not see.

In one swift motion, the staff arced through the air, severing the imagined bonds. Shadow Milk fell forward, and Pure Vanilla caught his arms.

Gently, he brushed his hands over the blue skin, unwinding the illusory threads. Although there were no injuries, and he knew it was not real, he cast a healing spell. Light radiated from his palms. Shadow Milk flexed his fingers.

“Wait,” Pure Vanilla whispered. He took Shadow Milk’s hands and brought them to his lips, kissing his knuckles. Perhaps that was too far, but… he did not look like he was going to run. “Are they gone now?”

“Yes.” Shadow Milk was staring at him, his face more colorful than usual, his mouth open. “How did you know? Did your light of truth tell you what I was seeing?” He had been quick to put a face on. Were they not trusting each other?

Pure Vanilla squeezed his hands. “No. Nothing like that. I just... I recognized my own mistakes.” He could feel tears welling at the corners of his eyes, and he blinked them away. “I apologize.” He wasn’t sure if he was shaking, or if it was Shadow Milk. “I should never have done that to you. Not after what you have been through.”

“We don’t have time for this.” Shadow Milk pushed him away. “Whoever did this is still around. It seems someone heard the stories about a spy in the Vanilla kingdom and figured they would take advantage of a good ruse. I respect it, really, I do, but-” He sighed. “You’re going to be upset if we don’t figure out who did this, aren’t you?”

That was a flimsy excuse to offer him a hand. But... Shadow Milk was offering his help, and he was not going to decline the offer. He gave a curt nod and shook himself off.

They tore through the city at breakneck speed. The stones under Pure Vanilla’s feet flew past, and there was dust and haze in the air. Around every corner, he heard raised voices and shattering glass. He swore he heard familiar voices in the fray, but he shook his head. None of his senses could be trusted. The only thing he was confident was true was Shadow Milk’s hand in his. They turned onto a main street, and Shadow Milk pulled him out of the way as a spell sailed past them. Whatever had caused their hallucinations, it had spread throughout town, and the citizens of the Vanilla kingdom had descended into chaos.

“If it were my work, I would be impressed,” Shadow Milk muttered. His hand was still in Pure Vanilla’s. Pure Vanilla wondered if he was aware of that.

“Was it your work?” He raised an eyebrow. “This seems a bit… conspicuous, even for you.”

“You know the answer to that, come on now.” Laughter from beside him. Not the manic laughter that signified trouble, just warm, genuine laughter.

“Right.” He took them down a side street, through an empty store, down through the basement, and through a tunnel that led towards the outskirts of town. He knew this kingdom like the back of his hand.

“Secret passages?” Shadow Milk tsked. “You’ve been holding out on me, Nilly.”

“Answer me honestly. Do you believe I would have told you my kingdom had numerous secret passages that my citizens did not know about several months ago?”

“If I had asked nicely, maybe.” Pure Vanilla looked over his shoulder, and Shadow Milk was batting his eyelashes. Pure Vanilla bit back a laugh. They needed to move faster. If whoever was responsible for this had operated in person, they were likely making their escape now. They needed to get to the portal that down to the ground below.

“However this was done, the chaos started not far from where I was,” Pure Vanilla said. “I have to assume I was the intended target.”

“Naturally,” his companion replied. “You’re a catch.”

“I am also an influential diplomatic figure, and I hold one of five incredibly powerful soul jams, as everyone so loves to remind me.” Pure Vanilla’s muscles were all tense, and his voice was strained. He wanted to banter, but that required a level of energy he did not have at the moment.

“It’s in good hands,” Shadow Milk mumbled.

“What was that?” He stopped in his tracks. Time stilled. The hand in his slipped away, and he turned. Shadow Milk’s hands were clasped over his mouth. His eyes were saucers. “Shadow Milk?”

“You didn’t hear anything,” he hissed through the gap in his hands. The gears were turning behind his eyes. “Master of lies and deceit, remember? You shouldn’t trust anything I say, Nilly.” He gave a toothy, fanged smile. He looked like a wolf. The eyes in his hair were ill-formed, all avoiding eye contact. They did not have time for this. For once, Pure Vanilla was going to have to take Shadow Milk at his word. They could talk about this later. He gave a curt nod and began to run again.

The chaos in town continued to rage, and there was nothing but the sound of fighting for a long time. It brought back unpleasant memories of a time he thought was long gone. He missed his friends. The chaos was a hurricane, carrying voices and spells and paranoia on its winds. They were looking for the eye.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

On the outskirts of the kingdom, near the portal to the ground, they found a cookie resting alone. She was sitting beneath a tree, eyes shut, casting some sort of spell under her breath. She wore long red robes, adorned with seeds and jewelry. Beside her lay a basket full of purple mushrooms. He recognized this cookie—Pomegranate Cookie, a servant of Dark Enchantress Cookie. The illusions had been her work, then. With the aid of magic and a few poisonous mushrooms, it was easy to spread fear. She did not acknowledge their presence, but he could see that she was poised to move, and move quickly.

“Were you sent by Dark Enchantress Cookie?” Pure Vanilla approached, anger boiling in his chest. He kept his breathing steady. The cookie beneath the tree opened her eyes slowly and covered her mouth with one hand.

“Sent? No. My master does not need to tell me where to go. I see an opportunity to further her vision, and I follow it.”

“So she’s operating alone,” Shadow Milk muttered in his ear.

She spoke again. “You are a healer, Pure Vanilla Cookie.” It felt like a taunt. She rose to her feet. “You have something that should belong to my master.”

“You have driven my people into paranoia,” Pure Vanilla said, gathering every ounce of austerity he still had at his disposal. “To what end?”

“That is not for you to know,” she replied. “You do not need to understand, you only need to step aside when the time comes for a new world.” He wondered if she was improvising. Cause chaos, take him out while he was distracted. It was a flimsy plan, but it would have worked, if it hadn’t been for Shadow Milk. What a funny thought, that. He drew up a commanding voice.

“Leave my kingdom.” He held up his staff. She tittered at that.

“A healer is no match for my skill.” Well, they would see about that. Beside him, he felt Shadow Milk tense. He didn’t need to look to know his shadow was ready to pounce.

“We shall see.”

The wind was knocked out of him by an attack he had not seen her casting. Pain erupted across his chest. Luckily, it had not done any serious damage, easy enough to heal, and he was quick to rise again with a hand from Shadow Milk, who also pressed his staff back into his hand.

Shadow Milk, helping him fight. What a strange world it was.

Her hands drew back, crafting a spell. He recalled tales from Gingerbrave of facing this very cookie, and this time, he was ready. Before she could conjure another illusion or weaken him, he slammed his staff into the ground, sending out a wave of light. She shielded her face with her long sleeves, and at that moment, Shadow Milk came out of hiding.

He spun his staff in the air, and shadows swirled and coalesced around it. With a theatrical flair, he brought it down on the ground. A yawning void of darkness opened up beneath her. The plants around them seemed to lose their color, and the grass began to sway in an invisible wind.

Walls of impossibly dark shadows rose up around Pomegranate Cookie, all piercing her with hundreds of eyes. It looked as though a hole had been ripped in the very fabric of the world. There was a hissing, layered sound coming from the spell that resonated in Pure Vanilla’s chest. The ground threatened to fall from beneath him.

An eye opened in the center of the void and began to glow, and Pomegranate Cookie’s jaw twitched.

Static surrounded them—like the air before a lightning strike. His hair was floating around him. Pomegranate Cookie looked furious. Her muscles were tense, her eyes wide. Energy radiated off of her, colorless through the shadows. Though she did not move, she glanced this way and that as though surrounded by enemies.

Beside him, Shadow Milk was shaking.

At last, the void dissipated, sinking into the grass, and she took a step forward, breath heaving. Color returned to the world around them. What on Earthbread had Shadow Milk shown her? She fell to her knees, tore into the grass with her hands.

“What did you-” Pure Vanilla turned, tried to make out the expression on Shadow Milks face.

“I showed her the truth. Or… a version of it. I showed her a world where her precious master fails. I don’t think she liked that.” There was a grimace on his face. His eyes were half shut. The lost magic had been a ruse—Pure Vanilla could not understand why Shadow Milk looked so exhausted.

He decided he didn’t want to know any more. Dark Enchantress Cookie… she was his enemy, yes, but he did not want to know what her death would look like. Some part of her was still a dear friend. She had been a friend, once.

That was one illusion he was content not to think about.

In the time they were speaking, their enemy had collected herself. Pomegranate Cookie threw out a final spell, sharpened by all of her fear and fury, and Shadow Milk threw his arms up to shield himself. It was clear her plan had failed. Her eyes were furious, her lips drawn in a tight frown.

“You may think you have won,” she seethed, “but when Dark Enchantress Cookie takes her rightful reign, you will understand, I swear this.” She threw her hands forward, and this time, Pure Vanilla saw the mushrooms in her hands and took a deep breath. Shadow Milk’s reaction time was behind his, so he swept him into an embrace, shielding him from the haze with his cape.

How odd, Shadow Milk taking a moment to react to something. Through the pounding of his heart, he heard the portal to the ground below, and knew she had escaped.

Shadow Milk was still clinging to his cape.

“Pure Vanilla Cookie!” A new voice rang out behind him, and frantic footsteps followed. Only one cookie had that much of a penchant for finding himself in trouble.

“Gingerbrave.” He turned with a tense smile. “These are not the circumstances in which I expected to greet you, my friend.” Several more of the young ones were running to catch up with him, each in various states of distress.

“This is pretty much exactly how I expected to find you,” Ginerbrave replied. “There’s always something happening any time we find you!” Strawberry Cookie skidded to a halt behind him, and then Wizard Cookie. “Were you just fighting someone?”

“What happened to Shadow Milk?” Strawberry Cookie’s voice was quiet, thick with concern. Apparently, he had made a good impression at their lunch party.

The cookie still clinging to him made no comment.

“Ah, do not fret about him.” It felt wrong to come up with any sort of lie about his condition, but telling the truth—that he hadn’t the faintest idea—felt just as wrong. He took the safer option of omission. “All is well.”

“If you say so!” Gingerbrave was always so hopeful. Seeing the new generation of heroes warmed Pure Vanilla’s heart, and he felt slightly more at ease. “Were you fighting someone?”

“Yes, actually. The haze in the town, I assume you saw that?”

“Yes,” Wizard Cookie cut in. “We did wonder why everyone was fighting during what we were told was a celebration of peace! That’s not like the Vanilla Kingdom.”

“But it is like a cookie we’ve faced before,” Gingerbrave said thoughtfully. “Pure Vanilla Cookie… was Poison Mushroom Cookie here? Or any of their friends?”

“How perceptive you are, my friend.” Pure Vanilla squeezed Shadow Milk’s shoulder, and got no reaction. This was troubling. He forced a smile. “No, I did not see that one, but an ally of theirs was here. Pomegranate Cookie, who I am well aware you know.”

“She’s scary,” Strawberry Cookie said. She pulled on the strings of her hoodie, obscuring her face.

“We’ve faced worse than that,” Gingerbrave replied. He was bouncing back and forth, always eager to start running. “Is she still here?”

Pure Vanilla was only half listening. Shadow Milk was nearly catatonic.

Pomegranate Cookie was powerful, but even she should not have done this much damage to a beast. Something was very, very wrong. He gave only a nod in response, mind very far away, trying to think about what to do. Their voices sounded tinny and distant, as though he had been lifted into the air.

“Pure Vanilla Cookie?” Wizard Cookie was tapping his arm.

“Yes, yes, my apologies.” Pure Vanilla shook his head. “She took the portal down to the ground.”

Gingerbrave stepped closer. “Do you need any help here?”

Wizard Cookie nodded his head. “If there is anything we can do here in the kingdom-”

Pure Vanilla cut him off. “-no, thank you. I think I can dispel this haze.”

“In that case,” Gingerbrave moved towards the portal down, “I think my friends and I are going to start running.” On cue, they followed behind him. “I hope we make it back in time to see more of the party!”

“It all looked beautiful so far,” Strawberry Cookie agreed, stepping towards the portal, gripping her lollipop tightly. “Thank you for inviting us.”

It brought him some peace of mind, knowing they were going after the uninvited guest. Were he not concerned with the beast at his side, he would be joining them.

“Please do return,” he said. “I would be delighted to speak with you in less chaotic times.” He received no response, but that suited him fine. He watched over the edge of the island, but he could hardly make them out from this distance. They could be trusted with this. There was nothing to worry about.

Now then. About the business of Shadow Milk Cookie.

He could not be carried. Perhaps a short distance, yes, but not all the way to the castle from this far out. When he moved his cape, Shadow Milk did not respond, only leaning on his side. Alright. First things first. He knelt on the ground, and pulled his other half with him. Shadow Milk’s hand was curled around his soul jam.

“Shadow Milk.” He reached out and tried to move his hand. The grip around the soul jam tightened. “Please, let me.”

Shadow Milk’s eyes met his, and they were blank.

“I want to help.” Pure Vanilla took his other hand and rested it on Shadow Milk’s shoulder.

The cookie in front of him nodded and moved his hand.

There was a crack in the surface of Shadow Milk’s soul jam. A long, ugly canyon that stretched from one side to the other. Pure Vanilla pressed a glowing hand against the cold surface and let energy flow through it. As soon as he examined the injury, he felt a very familiar pain. When his soul jam had been shattered, it had felt like his entire being was coming apart, but that had been quick. The real pain had been the loss of self afterwards. Shadow Milk was experiencing that same pain as a slow, crawling glacier carving its way through him.

“I need to take you to see someone about this.” Pure Vanilla could feel his heart racing.

At that, the glazed look in Shadow Milk’s eyes began to clear, his vision focusing. He squared his shoulders, un-tensed his jaw, wet his lips. And then he seemed to realize where he was, what was happening, and he scrambled backwards with a look of primal terror.

“You are not letting anyone examine my soul jam,” Shadow Milk snarled.

He needed to bargain.

“What if I gave you mine?”

“What?”

It had come out so simply, as though it was the only offer in the world he could have ever made. He doubled down. “Call it insurance, call it what you will. If you come with me, I will give you my soul jam for the duration of time that yours is examined.”

“You are more stupid than I thought.” Shadow Milk’s eyes were glowing, like a wolf in the dark.

This would take action. He needed to back his words with proof. Pure Vanilla unfastened his soul jam from his robes and pushed it towards him. Time stilled.

Finally, Shadow Milk took it. He did not pounce on the opportunity, did not snatch it away, but he took it nonetheless. Shadow Milk gave him a curious look. “How are you going to get me to help?” He summoned his staff and held it out, but when he tried to open up a portal, the shadows fizzed into nothing. “We’re stranded, Nilly.”

“Ah, yes.” About that. He had something of a theory. “Hold onto me, would you?” Shadow Milk groaned and rolled his eyes, but he followed the order.

Back in the spire, he had taken control of Shadow Milk’s other realm. True, he had help then, but surely it was still within his capability. He held out his staff and focused all of his energy into it. The air was hot, and the sky in front of him warped and twisted, before abruptly returning to normal with a sound that popped his eardrums. At his side, Shadow Milk sighed.

He gave it another try, and this time, he set his jaw and moved languidly, like he had all the time in the world. The other realm was at his disposal, and he could step through it as easily as crossing a doorway. It was a change in attitude. At this, the other realm responded, and the air split open to reveal a portal.

Chapter Text

Espresso Cookie had a very strict routine every day. He worked until a small timer on his desk rang, informing him that he needed to take a break, and then he glared at the timer for five minutes until it ran out. And then he resumed his research. The timer had been a gift from Latte Cookie—if you could call it that. He would call it a magical babysitter, with an upturned nose and a frown. It only disrupted his work, being forced to pause and take breaks, but he did not want to receive a very sternly worded letter from Parfaedia, so he accepted it.

He had three minutes left on the timer. A machine in his lab dinged, indicating that it was done pulling a shot of espresso, and he set about making a drink. It was the one good thing to come out of Latte Cookie’s imposed break times—they gave him a chance to try new recipes.

This one was experimental, mixed with new floral syrups and topped with perfectly foamed milk. If he were serving it, not that he ever would, he supposed the presentation left something to be desired, but his intention was only to make something new and interesting. He had been working on the new syrup flavors for a while, and the short breaks in his proper research gave him an opportunity to taste them. The resulting taste was light and airy, and it reminded him of the festival he had declined attending. It would be a waste of his talents, but perhaps he would ask about providing some refreshments.

The drink in his hand was too sweet for his tastes, and he had made far too much of the clover and lavender syrups. Certainly more than he would ever use. Yes, perhaps he would ask Strawberry Crepe Cookie to pass along a message about that the next time he saw them. He had been willing to sit in on the meetings and provide ideas, but it was beneath him to participate.

Thirty seconds. He took another sip of his drink, emptying the glass. Really, an artistic creation like this deserved to be savored, but he had work to do, and so little time to do it. Papers were laid out across his desk, beckoning to him.

Ten seconds. He began to cross the room, mind already buzzing with ideas for his latest study.

A loud pop made his ears ring, and the glass dropped from his hand as he jumped back.

Out loud, he exclaimed, “What in the world?”

The air in the room was alive with magical energy, and he was reaching for his wand when the ceiling ripped open, revealing a portal.

Pure Vanilla Cookie tumbled out of the sky and landed on the floor of his office in a heap. He was followed by Shadow Milk Cookie, who landed on top of him.

This was going to be a long afternoon.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Shadow Milk’s soul jam was on fire. It felt like his soul was being torn in two. When he had attacked Pomegranate Cookie, adrenaline had kept him going, and he had not felt it when the crack split further. Now, it was all that he could feel, the one point on which all of his focus rested.

The world was too dark. His other eyes were not answering him. Ordinarily, he could see almost everything that happened around him, a walking panopticon. Now, his vision was myopic, dizzying. Static danced around him. There was something in his hands, something cold that pulsed against his grip. He glanced down.

Soul jam. Pure Vanilla’s soul jam. The hero had used his soul jam as a bargaining chip to make him come here.

Was that not what he had come to this kingdom for? Was that not his very motive? He reached out for advice, but his mind was silent. Silence. It was stifling.

“Please explain.” That professor from Parfaedia was here, staring at him with palpable exhaustion. “Why is there a beast in my office?”

“I apologize,” Pure Vanilla said. His dough was incredibly flushed. There was a sheen of sweat across his face. He had tried to use the other realm to bring them here, Shadow Milk realized.

No, he hadn’t tried, he had succeeded. Pure Vanilla had opened a portal.

Shadow Milk was not proud. Not at all.

“I swear,” Pure Vanilla continued, “there is a reason for this. I believe there is damage to his soul jam, and I would like your eyes on it before I attempt to heal it again.”

Shadow Milk crossed his arms protectively over his chest. Were his entire being not being pulled apart at the seams, this room would be wreathed with shadows and eyes.

“Are you not at all certain,” Espresso Cookie wondered, “that he is not just crying wolf again? He has tried that once before, no?”

Pure Vanilla nodded at that. Whose side was he on?

“I’m not,” Shadow Milk snarled. He wanted to wipe that smug look off of his face. Wanted to show his claws. If they wanted him to cry wolf, he could show them a wolf.

“Pardon my bluntness, Shadow Milk Cookie, but you are known for being a deceiver. I understand you have my colleague’s trust, but, and please forgive the offense, Pure Vanilla Cookie, your trust is easily won.” Espresso Cookie was not as sycophantic as the Consul of the Creme Republic. At least this cookie had no disillusions about what Pure Vanilla’s trust was worth.

“None taken,” Pure Vanilla replied, smiling mildly.

“You know, ‘brutal’ honesty is just an excuse to be brutal,” Shadow Milk muttered. “Deceit is far softer.” He was going to speak more, but another wave of pain rolled over him, and he could only gasp. Was there somewhere to sit in this room? With his vision so narrow, all he could clearly make out was the faces gazing at him with concern and derision.

Pure Vanilla, as though sensing his distress, crossed the room and brought a chair to him. He hoped his thanks was communicated in his expression. In no world would he be caught dead expressing gratitude to his enemy out loud.

It hurt to stand, and it hurt to sit. The motion of bending his knees was agony, a thousand needles piecing his dough and rearranging him on a molecular level. He fell into the chair, more than sat in it. Pure Vanilla’s soul jam was still in his hands.

“I believe I can help with your pain,” Pure Vanilla was saying, swimming in and out of Shadow Milk’s vision. “At least ease it. But I want to make sure this crack will not grow first.” He waved a hand, and Espresso followed it, examining him.

“May I look at your soul jam?” A hand came into view. Perfectly starched sleeves. Not Pure Vanilla’s hand. The professor. Shadow Milk shook his head, and it hurt. The simple action of shaking his head felt like being thrown violently from side to side.

Pure Vanilla’s voice sounded in his ear, gentle and encouraging. “I only want to help.”

He felt sick. This was wrong. This body should be able to heal itself naturally, had always been able to heal itself naturally. Espresso was at his side, he could hear the movement of fabric and the click of heels on the floor, but he could not see him.

“If you want to examine my soul jam,” he managed, “you can do it like this, while it is still attached to me. I can’t let you-” beautiful angels of pure starlight floated in his vision. Aura, he thought distantly. “-I can’t let you see that far beyond the curtain. Ruins the show.”

Pure Vanilla laughed gently. That small action strengthened his resolve. Had he received anything less, had he received a gentle reassurance or an expression of encouragement, he would have known that this was all out of pity, and he would have torn this room apart with all the strength he had left, damage to himself be damned.

No. Pure Vanilla was laughing. “Very well,” he said. “Espresso Cookie, do you mind?”

“I suppose not,” the professor sighed.

Shadow Milk heard the scraping of a chair against the floor, and strained his vision. He was met with an inky void and dancing static. Only once the chair was placed in front of him could he see clearly. Espresso Cookie readjusted his glasses and leaned in close. With an instrument that could have passed for a torture device, he examined Shadow Milk’s soul jam. And oh, how it burned. To have someone so callously examine the very culmination of his being with a metal instrument, giving out the occasional analytical “hmm” or “I see”—it was humiliation in its purest form. In his minds eye, he tore the room apart with claws and teeth, reconstructed it, and tore it apart again. It pulled his mind away from the searing, all encompassing pain.

After ten minutes of examination, he was quite confident he had memorized the location of every single instrument, machine, and cabinet in the room. After fifteen, he had memorized the location of every speck of dust. He probably could reconstruct it all from memory.

“Shadow Milk?” Pure Vanilla’s voice, soft and gentle, pulled him out of the depths. He turned over the soul jam in his hands. What would happen if he did not give it back? The snake would like that. The snake, which was silent now. It was so quiet in his mind. “Shadow Milk Cookie.”

“What?”

“May I touch you?”

For reasons he could not understand, being asked for permission was a small chip away at the walls he was hastily constructing.

How rarely had his desires ever been respected, back then? How rarely had it mattered what he wanted? He had been made for a purpose, and he had fulfilled it, but the cookie that was meant to be his enemy was asking his permission. A laugh burned inside of him. There was fire in his chest.

He nodded.

Relief washed over him in a slow, gentle wave. Pure Vanilla’s hands ministered to his soul jam, and golden light filled his vision, silencing the strange lights that had haunted his vision. Slowly, his nerves were unwound, until at last he felt like he could move without agony. When the light was gone, and Pure Vanilla’s hands left him, he almost felt disappointed. He knew he shouldn’t, knew he should be righteously indignant about the indecency of being seen like this. He only felt relieved. Ordinary cookies would cry here. Ordinary cookies would sob.

He could not. Literally, physically, could not cry. It had been one of his stipulations for his new body, one which Dark Enchantress Cookie had raised an eyebrow at.

“Shadow Milk?” Again, Pure Vanilla’s voice drew him out of his mind. “I have good news and bad news.”

“Oh, goodie. I love this game.” It felt good to be sarcastic. Biting. Mean.

“The good news,” Pure Vanilla went on, ignoring him, “is that your pain should be temporary. If it comes back, tell me, and I will do my best to relieve it.”

“And the bad news?”

Anxiety settled over the ancient hero’s face. His lips were pulled into a worried frown. “That’s the thing, I suppose. Shadow Milk… what do you know about red velvet trees?”

“Not really in the mood for a lecture, professor.”

“It is… an analogy. I am trying to put this delicately. Sometimes, during fires, red velvet trees end up with hollows in their center. This does not kill the tree, which continues to grow, but the exposed heartwood is left at risk of rot, or infection, or disease.”

Shadow Milk was starting to get the picture. “And what does this have to do with me?”

“The crack in your soul jam is… only the tip of the iceberg, so to speak.” Pure Vanilla’s face was contorted into a deeply sympathetic expression.

“Your soul jam is rotting,” Espresso Cookie cut in. “The damage goes deeper than the surface.”

“Well, that’s fine.” Shadow Milk hopped out of the chair. “I just won’t push it.” He stepped into the air and began to hover, and instantly, pain struck his chest, cutting through him.

“Please.” Pure Vanilla caught him and pulled him down, already encircling him in magic. “There was more news.”

“Oh, joy.”

“Shadow Milk.” There were three things he could focus on. The warmth of the magic washing over him, the hand against his chest, and the gentleness in Pure Vanilla’s voice.

“Does it get worse, somehow?”

“Better, actually.” A hand squeezed his. “Shadow Milk… if you are willing to trust me, then this will be the worst it ever gets.”

“Huh.”

“The soul jam… it’s a locus for energy and power, yes, but it is also physically responsive to your desires and your state of being. You know this. Just as my light of truth has its own whims, the light within you is a living, breathing thing. Healing it is not so simple for me as healing a crumbling wound, or a broken limb.” Pure Vanilla’s hand in his was so warm.

“Are you going to talk my soul jam into recovery?” He did not want to betray that his interest was piqued.

“Not as such. I cannot heal this.” The soul jam in his hands, Pure Vanilla’s soul jam, was giving off a gentle warmth, a pulse the same rate as a heartbeat. “But you can. The same way I did. The same way each of my friends have.”

“If I make peace with my soul jam, do I get a chintzy wardrobe change as well? Or is that reserved for sanctimonious heroes?”

“That-” Pure Vanilla stifled a laugh. It seemed Shadow Milk was not the only cookie here with a sense of curiosity. “That is something you will have to find out for yourself, I suppose. If you let me help you.”

“Wouldn’t it be in your best interest not to, Nilly? Your priorities always leave something to be desired.” He coughed and tasted jam.

“Yes,” Pure Vanilla agreed. “In the minds of some, it probably would be in my best interest to let you handle this alone. To some, it would be the best course of action for me to let you destroy yourself.” There was an edge to his tone, but it was not directed at Shadow Milk this time. “You know me, Shadow Milk. Better than I know myself, at times.” Yes, and Shadow Milk was disgusted by it. He did not take pride in how well he knew his other half, at how well he could read him, at how easily he could draw a laugh from him-

Pure Vanilla took a deep breath. “You and I both know I could never do that. No matter what you did to me… I would always try to help you. You only have to let me.”

It was true. He could not deny that. Pure Vanilla had shown himself to be remarkably, foolishly dedicated to his role as a healer. More than that, Pure Vanilla had shown himself to be ineffably dedicated to Shadow Milk’s well-being. Something fluttered in his chest.

“Moreso…” Pure Vanilla was still speaking. “I like you. I like your company. I enjoy talking with you. I do not want to see you in pain.”

Betrayal formed ice in his jam. For a moment, he was back in the library. From the look of guilt that flashed over Pure Vanilla’s face, so was he.

“Not again,” Pure Vanilla added, acknowledging it.

“Fine.” Shadow Milk braced himself against Pure Vanilla’s shoulder. “Okay. Let the new show commence.” He tapped his thumb against Pure Vanilla’s collarbone three times.

Pure Vanilla sighed with relief. “I think I will be taking my patient home now,” he informed Espresso Cookie. Shadow Milk did not see how the professor responded. It was out of his field of vision. Shame rose in him again. Reduced to this.

Pure Vanilla’s hand came to rest at the small of his back. With a gentle touch, the slightest pressure, he acted as a guide, leading Shadow Milk through a palace that felt alien to him now. At the very least, without his panoptic vision, he could not feel the burn of the paintings staring him down.

When they reached his room, Pure Vanilla released him, and something terribly selfish clawed its way into his throat at the sudden emptiness where there had been a presence.

He relinquished the soul jam that was still clutched in his trembling hands. Pure Vanilla accepted it silently and pinned it to his robes again. Only then did he speak.

“This is where I leave you,” he said softly. “I will come by in the morning with food, and we can talk about what comes next. This time, with no pretense.”

Stay. He wanted to ask Pure Vanilla to stay. It had been so easy to react to that request when it had been presented to him, to turn it into a joke and improvise off of the comedy of the situation. This did not feel the same. Not when he was the desperate one, a wolf pleading at the heels of a sheepdog, yearning for something.

“Shadow Milk?” He wished Pure Vanilla would stop saying his name so gently. Were he a wolf, that beautiful throat would be the first place he would sink in his teeth. Pure Vanilla took a deep breath. “You are holding on to my cape.”

So he was.

“Would you like me to stay here?”

Yes he would. More than anything.

“Geez, Nilly. Seems like you want to stay here,” Shadow Milk snorted. He tilted his head to the side at an unnatural angle. There was no amusement in any of the show. “Desperate much?”

“Shadow Milk Cookie-” he was pushing his buttons. He knew it. This did not end well, it never ended well. This was where Pure Vanilla dismissed his patience again, and-

Pure Vanilla was still speaking. With fond resignation, aching tenderness, he murmured, “Just come here.”

A hand on his arm, pulling him through the door, guiding him to the bed. The sound of footsteps and the door partially shutting. He could not see from here, but he heard the curtains draw shut, saw when shadows draped over the room. Footsteps again, crossing the room. Pure Vanilla crawled into the bed beside him and let out a long sigh. Shadow Milk lifted the thick blue duvet to let him in.

“In the future,” Pure Vanilla murmured, and Shadow Milk felt an arm wrap around his side, “you can always ask me for things. No pretense needed. I am your friend.”

“Why would I, when you’re so so good at reading my mind?”

Pure Vanilla just sighed and pulled him closer. Well. That was alright. There was an arm around his waist, legs tangled with his, a hand gently twisting his hair into knots. As he settled in, his faceagainst Pure Vanilla’s chest, he felt the ghost of a kiss brush against his forehead.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

He dreamt of the garden again. The snake was nowhere to be seen, and the ordinarily sweet air smelled acrid and foul. The garden was on fire. Panic set in quickly, driving icy claws into his dough. He took off at a sprint, looking for the snake. The streams that ran through the garden were running dry now, and he charged through the riverbed without a second thought. Smoke was choking him.

“Where are you?” He called out into the smog. “Please. I do not want to do this alone.”

Something caught under his foot, and he stumbled forward. The snake. He scrambled forwards, gently scooped it up, and held it in his hands. It blinked a sideways eye at him.

“This isn’t really you,” he murmured. Dreams did not always work that way.

The voice inside him… it was not him, was it? It did not answer every time he called. It did not always align with his desires. It wasn't him. But it was a part of him, and it was not here.

The snake in his hands was not his snake, not the internal compass he had come to rely on. It was a facsimile. He choked out a sob. In his dreams, he could cry. In his dreams, there was no audience to his strangled cries, his anger, his fear. He was alone in his mind, stuck there. He missed the familiar voice—sometimes antagonizing, sometimes cajoling, sometimes protective—that had guided him.

“Where are you?” The breath left him, and he collapsed in the grass. “Please.”

Warmth spread over him, and he knew the fire was upon him. He hoped it was merciful.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The pain never came. The suffocation, the agony, the bubbling and burning of his dough, none of it ever came. He felt warm, yes, but it was strangely pleasant. The warmth held him in a gentle embrace. He shut his eyes tight.

When he opened them, he was met with a gentle glow, a soft light that held him close.

Pure Vanilla. Pure Vanilla was in his room, had stayed there, had-

Pure Vanilla’s arms were wrapped around his shoulders. There was a hand in his hair, gentling running through it. Another hand rubbed circles into his back. He was not alone. Horror struck him. How much had he said​? How much had Pure Vanilla heard?

“You’re okay,” his other half was murmuring, voice muffled by Shadow Milk’s hair. “I’m here. You’re okay.” Impossible softness. Undeserved.

Shadow Milk choked out a pained noise, and the ministrations ceased.

“You’re awake,” his captor whispered. “Hello.”

“Anything you heard, anything I said, if you tell a living soul about it, I will-”

“I would never.” Pure Vanilla’s eyes were so soft, cutting through his panic with sincerity.

“I swear, I will-”

“Shadow Milk.” The hand in his hair resumed its gentle motions. “Who were you calling out to? In your sleep?”

He considered ignoring that comment, pretending to pass out again. His soul jam burned. “Do you ever speak to the Truthless Recluse?”

“Is that meant to be an answer my question?” Pure Vanilla raised an eyebrow.

“I do. Not to the Recluse, but-”

“You talk to yourself. I know.” He hated this, he hated how gently Pure Vanilla was looking at him, how much truth had been pulled out of him. “Ordinarily, I have to assume, you get a response.”

When Shadow Milk said nothing, he only nodded, as though his suspicions were confirmed. “And now you are not receiving a response.”

“No." His face was pulled into a rictus, a poor imitation of a smile. "Are- are you sure you can’t read my mind, Nilly? I’m starting to think-”

“Please do not put another mask on right now.” There was that edge he knew Pure Vanilla had in him.

He wanted to savor it.

He couldn’t.

He let the smile go.

“Thank you.” Pure Vanilla pulled him closer, and Shadow Milk allowed it. “I don’t know if this eases your mind, but it will come back. Your… inner voice.”

It did ease his mind. He did not voice this.

Shadow Milk turned over, propping himself up on an elbow to face Pure Vanilla. “How do you know, oh wise one?”

“I am a healer.” It was such a simple answer, and yet it prompted so many questions. “I make it my business to know these things.”

Shadow Milk deflected. “Do you ordinarily take your patients to bed with you?”

Pure Vanilla’s face turned bright red, and he averted his gaze. There was laughter threatening to spill out, and he had to clear his throat to calm himself.

Then, before Shadow Milk could come at him with another taunt, Pure Vanilla asked, “would you like to play a game with me? Or would you like to give sleep another try?”

Shadow Milk opened his mouth and then shut it again. “You need to sleep,” he finally said. “You mortal cookies and your mortal needs.” He did not want to think about the idea that he operated like a mortal cookie now.

“I can handle a sleepless night or two.” He would forgo rest for a patient. “You, however, need to take more care of yourself.”

“Wanna wager on it?” A smile settled on Shadow Milk’s face.

“On… my sleep?”

“Yes. Keep up, Nilly.” Pure Vanilla was smiling too. It was a good look for him. “We’ll play a game, and if I win, you will go back to sleep.”

“You’re going to wager my sleep schedule on your win?” There was such mirth in his voice. Shadow Milk felt breathless.

“I don’t like you when you’re cranky. It’s in my best interest.”

“Point taken.” Pure Vanilla hummed for a moment. “Alright. If I win, I will ask you a question, and you will tell me one true fact about yourself, something I do not already know.”

Shadow Milk scoffed. “Anything you can ask for, and you want to ask me first date questions?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

“What game will we play, Shadow Milk Cookie?” Pure Vanilla’s eyes were glimmering.

“I think…” He bit his lip, giving it a good think. “20 questions.” It was a good, simple game. And he was positive he could think of something that Pure Vanilla would not be able to guess.

“Excellent. Will you be guessing?”

“Of course not.” Shadow Milk reached over and poked his nose. “You will be attempting to guess.” The soft laughter he received in response made his heart flutter.

“Alright. I assume you have already thought of something?”

Shadow Milk nodded.

“Hmm… is it alive?”

“Isn’t everything, in a way?”

“You know, Shadow Milk, this game does not work if you do not give me clear answers.”

“Precisely.” He giggled.

“Very well. You are talking around an answer, so I am going to assume it is not alive.” Of course he saw through that. “Is it useful?”

“To some.”

“Hmm.” Pure Vanilla’s eyes drifted upwards as he thought. “Do I have one?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you do not entirely grasp the concept of 20 questions,” he chuckled. “But I know that will not change anything. I suppose with that response that I must own one. No-” His gaze swept the room. “Do I own more than one?”

“Does anyone own anything?”

“So… yes.” Pure Vanilla’s mouth quirked into a pensive smile. “Are they fragile?”

“Quite the opposite.” It was the first genuine answer he had given, really.

“Sturdy, then? Could I use one of them to defend myself?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Hoping to mislead him, he let his gaze drift over to the chairs in the corner. Without his other eyes, the effect was somewhat dampened.

“Aha!” Had he taken the bait? “Shadow Milk, could I use this object in a game?”

“Ugh. Yes.” No, no he had not.

“A chess piece.” Pure Vanilla’s smile was so wide, so proud. Shadow Milk considered letting him win now just to see more of that smile.

“Not quite.” No, it was more fun to win.

“A specific chess piece, then?” Or not.

“Are you sure you can’t read my mind, oh humble healer?”

“I can read your face just fine.” Pure Vanilla looked up again, and Shadow Milk could see the gears turning in his head. “It’s not a king. I think that would be a bit obvious, even for you.” Yes, he had more tact than that. “You said it was defensive. All chess pieces can be used to play defensively, but…”

“You’re not asking me questions, Nilly,” he sang.

“Oh, let me think, would you?” Pure Vanilla shoved him with no real force behind it. “Could I use this piece to indirectly move a king?”

“You know, I hate you sometimes.”

“It is a rook, isn’t it?”

“Really, I hate you. So much.”

“Liar.” There was so much sweetness in Pure Vanilla’s voice. He did not seem to care that he was playing with fire. He was just smiling like there was something in front of him worth smiling at.

“Go on then. Ask your one true question. Get it over with.” Shadow Milk was smiling too.

He braced himself for the obvious questions. ‘Do you trust me?’ or ‘do you want to stay here?’ or ‘please elucidate upon your past in excruciating detail.’ Pure Vanilla was looking over him with the analytical gaze he usually reserved for puzzling games or injuries he did not know how to heal, a line forming between his brows. After a moment, he asked, “what is your favorite flower?”

“That’s what you want to ask me?” Shadow Milk snorted. “Anything at all, and that’s what you’re going with?”

“You agreed to answer honestly,” Pure Vanilla replied mildly.

“Fine.” He sighed. There was no real fight in him. “Hyacinths. There’s your honest answer.”

“Thank you.” Before he could say more, Pure Vanilla yawned and stretched. It seemed Shadow Milk had still won the fight on sleep.

“Why ask that?” He wasn’t letting this go. “Of all things, why ask my favorite flower?”

“I thought we might plant some together.”

Chapter Text

There was an old piece of advice that the Fount of Knowledge had once handed out freely, a cure all that healed most ills and which required little thought to provide. Mortal cookies were physical beings, and when the mind was tormented, it was often the body that needed healing. Sleep, he knew, could resolve many minor issues. Not deeper wounds, perhaps, but even those could be mitigated by rest, made easier to manage in the morning. It was advice he had given freely, easily, and had neglected for himself. He had no need of sleep. The Fount of Knowledge was created for a purpose, and he fulfilled it.

What if this doesn’t work​?

Shadow Milk sat at the table in his room, shuffling and reshuffling the deck of cards. The beastly things were not cooperating. It was not his fault; not the fault of the tremors in his hands, nor his lack of genuine motor control without the aid of magic. No, the cards were simply broken. Pure Vanilla was gone—to get food, he had said. It seemed to be taking him quite a while.

What if you are stuck like this​​?

The return of his internal monologue brought peace and frustration with it in equal measure. He supposed he, too, was beholden to the rules which governed mortal cookies now. Sleep. The cure for all ills. The room had been warm, the weight of Pure Vanilla’s arm across his chest had been grounding, and he had drifted away easily. When he awoke, the voice was there again, as though it had never left. Now, it would not leave him be.

What if you cannot heal this?

Yes, what if. It had been haunting him, that question. What if he was incapable of healing this? What then? Well... Then he would be stuck in the Vanilla Kingdom, unless his followers could sneak him out—and what would be the benefit of that? If they even could do so, he would be unable to protect himself. He was magically powerful, yes, exceedingly so, but physically, he was weak. Ordinarily, the showiness was enough—he rarely had to overextend his powers to their limit, because the presentation was all it took. Cookies feared the darkness that followed him, the eyes that surrounded him, he hardly had need to demonstrate his power. Now, he had nothing to show for any of it. Just a mimic.

Eyes were a common pattern among mimics. Moths often had eyes on their wings, a trait so ubiquitous it was nearly a rule. Many species of gummy fish had eye spots on their tails in order to confuse predators. Even butter tigers, which should not need protection, had false eyes on their ears. His eyes were not just show, they were for function as well, but the rule still held true. The display was intimidating.

His bright colors, too, were a form of intimidation; the mismatched blues served as a neon sign telling the world he would bite. Now, in this broken state, it was all just a farce. Aposematism was good for nothing if he could not back up the display with real danger. Poison jelly frogs had bright colors to warn predators, but they also had poison in spades. Candy coral snakes could deliver a lethal dose of venom through their fangs… but their imitators could not.

At present, he had nothing. A milk snake with nothing to show for its bright colors. An old aphorism was ringing in his mind, a rhyme to tell apart a venomous snake from one that was harmless.

Pure Vanilla’s voice the day before was at the forefront of his mind, murmuring reassurances in that soft, honeyed voice. The touch of a hand on his back. Singing in his chest.

This was taking too long. Pure Vanilla should be back by now.

He could be telling other cookies about your weakness.

Yes. That was a worrying possibility. By his own admission, Pure Vanilla had informed people of Shadow Milk’s condition before, hadn’t he? Although, Shadow Milk had been lying before.

But...

Pure Vanilla had known it was a lie before. He had been entertaining that lie, but he was well aware that Shadow Milk had full control of his power when he arrived. Despite this, Pure Vanilla’s friends had been amicable and friendly, inviting him into their conversation, never truly fearing him.

What in the world did he tell Gingerbrave?

As if on cue, the door creaked open, and Shadow Milk craned his neck to see what was happening. Pure Vanilla swept into the room, a round tray of food in hand. There was a soft smile on his face, and his movements were relaxed—energized, even. He set the tray on the card table, humming to himself, and then seemed to register that Shadow Milk was out of bed.

“Oh, wonderful!” He exclaimed. “I am so glad you are up and about.” The smile on his face grew brighter and fonder.

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes. “Staring at the ceiling gets boring. Do you want me to end up like my more destructive colleagues? I need things to do.” He slammed the cards down for emphasis.

Pure Vanilla’s smile flattened into a line. “Mm.” He took his seat and crossed his arms. “The festival is still going today, you know. If you are looking for something to do, that is.”

“Believe me, I’ve heard.” While he was waiting for Pure Vanilla, he had strained his hearing. The disorienting lack of sight left him dependent on his other senses. Was that how Pure Vanilla experienced the world at all times? A haze of sounds and sensory input and dizzying colors? In the time he had spent waiting, he had heard playful music drifting up from the street. He had heard the staff conversing about the market stalls they wished to visit. He had heard discussions of yesterday’s excitement; allegedly, one of Dark Enchantress Cookie’s allies had arrived, and Pure Vanilla had defeated her with the help of his friends. Of course he was not getting his due credit.

Would it be better if they knew it was you?

Pure Vanilla reached over the table and placed a hand on his knee. “Will you attend with me? There is no pressure, of course. If you prefer to stay here and rest-”

“Pure Vanilla Cookie.” The use of his full name was enough to silence the healer. “I would rather do quite literally anything else than sit in this room.” The word ‘anything’ was dragged out for a very long time. He slumped into his chair and let his head roll back for the appropriate level of melodrama.

“I thought you might say so.” From this angle, he could not see Pure Vanilla’s face, but the smile in his voice was audible. “In that case, I’ve asked Strawberry Crepe Cookie to make you something.”

“Is that why you took twenty four hours to come back here?”

Pure Vanilla chuckled. “I think it was less than that.”

“Twenty three, then.”

“To answer your question, yes. That is why I took so long.”

“I don’t see any wafflebots with you, Nills. What’d you ask them to make, exactly?” Shadow Milk leaned forward so he could see again. The movement made him dizzy. Pure Vanilla’s hand was still on his leg, and he felt a wave of light wash over him. At his raised eyebrow, the hand pulled back.

“It… is not a wafflebot.” Pure Vanilla shook his head, still smiling. “I know that your preference is for flying over walking. Until your soul jam has healed,” Shadow Milk noted that he phrased it as a when, not an if, “I thought you might like to use this.”

Pure Vanilla held out his staff and spun it in the air. This portal opened with slightly more precision than the last one he tried, though his aim could still use work. A golden object, roughly the width of a chess board, fell from the sky and landed in Pure Vanilla’s lap.

“Your aim is terrible,” Shadow Milk teased. “I’ve seen cookies fresh out of the oven do better.”

“Perhaps you could teach me, if you’re going to complain.” Perhaps he could. Pure Vanilla held the object out to him.

It was gold, with blue detailing and covered in the Vanilla Kingdom’s signature waffle patterns, rather intricately designed. It looked like part of a chair had been disassembled and given a makeover. He ran his thumb over the edge of one of the patterns, and the object hummed with magic before lifting into the air and hovering in front of him.

“Thank you, Nilly. I’ve always wanted a floating chunk of metal. How ever did you know?”

“It’s a chair,” Pure Vanilla replied. “Sort of.”

Shadow Milk squinted at him. Color was rising to his face, and he was averting his gaze ever so slightly. Perhaps this was a more important gift than Shadow Milk had thought at first.

“It will respond to your touch,” the healer continued. “It functions using the same magic that keeps this Kingdom afloat. I thought perhaps you might like to use it at the festival today.”

Shadow Milk bit back a retort about how the Beast of Deceit did not require a mobility aid to move around. Flight had always come naturally to him, and walking, though painful, was not impossible. Then again… he had missed hovering around his other half, pestering him from the sky like one of the birds he was often compared to. Pure Vanilla was gazing at him so sincerely. So insistent. Never prying, never pushing, just gentle insistence that he get better.

“Fine.” It wasn’t worth a fight. He didn’t have it in him to contest this. And, perhaps, only the slightest bit, it was worth it for the way Pure Vanilla’s entire demeanor shifted. His smile brightened, his shoulders relaxed, his eyes glimmered with excitement. Maybe anything would be worth it, if it elicited that reaction. “You know, you’re really excited to spend the day with a beast. Do you have any sense of self-preservation?”

“Evidently, I don’t need one,” Pure Vanilla murmured.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He received only a raised eyebrow in response. Teasing. Pure Vanilla was teasing him. Memories flashed by in front of his eyes—tackling Pure Vanilla in the hangar, comforting him during a restless night, tearing him out of Pomegranate Cookie’s illusions. Telling him his soul jam was in good hands.

You have become thoroughly domesticated, his internal compass sneered.

He noticed his internal compass was not demanding he take the soul jam.

Not for now.

Changing our position, are we?

Good lies are adaptable.

“Shadow Milk​?” Pure Vanilla waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you alright?” There was a line forming between his brows, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Never better!” Shadow Milk hopped up from his chair and winced at the disorientation. The room was spinning.

“Please be careful,” Pure Vanilla urged, stepping to his side. “Your proprioception is most likely limited at the moment. That is, your ability to orient yourself in space-”

“I know what proprioception is.”

“What I am saying,” Pure Vanilla continued, “is that you are going to stumble a lot if you are not careful.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We will need to work that into your recovery.”

“You want me to what, practice standing around and walking? I know how to walk, Nilly, newsflash.”

“I understand that.” He sighed. “But your sense of your own place in the world is poor without your extra vision, even you cannot deny that. You need to practice skills that teach you proprioception naturally.” Pure Vanilla paced back and forth, hands on his hips. When he was focused, really thinking something over, Pure Vanilla always looked up and to the right. He also chewed on his lips, which were often ragged with how much time he spent overthinking. Shadow Milk had been paying very close attention to him.

“Alright,” he said at last. “Alright. Here is my suggestion. We will attend the festival for a few hours, and then we will come back here and I will assess your condition further. I know you won’t cooperate with me if there is no incentive for you, so…” he hummed thoughtfully.

“I might,” Shadow Milk replied, leaning closely. “If you ask me nicely.”

“Will you please work with me on this?”

“Nope!”

“You said-”

“I said I might. Beast of deceit, sweetness, remember?”

“Yes, alright, point taken.” Pure Vanilla was smiling. “How about this. I believe I have an exercise that will help you strengthen your proprioception—one that you will not reject outright.”

“Oh? And what in the world could that be?” Curiosity piqued, he settled down. “I am very capricious, as you know.”

“I will teach you how to dance.”

“I know how to dance.”

“With your eyes shut?”

Shadow Milk glared at him. Intending to be dramatic, he turned his back on Pure Vanilla and crossed his arms, but quickly found that being unable to look at his conversation partner was unimaginably frustrating. He tapped his heel against the floor. He could hear Pure Vanilla’s robes shuffling, could hear his footsteps, but could not hear what he was doing. Even straining his vision, he only met rippling static. Something shifted in the air behind him, where he could not see.

Hands slipped around his waist. Breath ghosted along his neck. Pure Vanilla’s voice was dulcet. “A good dancer would have been able to see that coming,” he said. A chill ran down Shadow Milk’s spine.

“You have an advantage over me,” he snorted, trying to stifle the heat that was boiling his jam. His hands came up to cover his face. “You’re used to navigating the world like this. I’m not.”

“I thought deceit was adaptable. Is that not what you always tell me?” Pure Vanilla was audibly smiling. So much honey in his voice. Pure Vanilla’s chin came to rest against his shoulder, a gentle point of pressure. The arms around his waist tightened their grip.

“Fine.” There was a lump in his throat. “Alright. I’ll go to your festival, since you’re practically begging me. And we can work on my tenuous relationship with the z-axis tonight, if it will make you happy. Just-” He swallowed, hard. “Stop hanging off of me like a lovesick puppy, would you?”

“My apologies.” The honey melted out of his voice in an instant. Pure Vanilla stumbled back. Shadow Milk turned, and immediately felt guilt form ice inside of his chest. Pure Vanilla’s eyes were downcast, his cheeks flushed. “I did not mean-”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Shadow Milk stepped forward and held out a hand, palm towards the ceiling, as though offering a dance. Tilting his head to the side, Pure Vanilla took it. They must have painted quite the picture, back lit by the early sun coming in through the windows. With sweetness he had not called upon in a very long time, Shadow Milk pressed a kiss to the back of Pure Vanilla’s hand. He was quick to draw back, as though he had kissed a flame, but Pure Vanilla was appeased, his gaze impossibly fond.

Repulsive.

“Don’t you start,” he snapped.

“I apologize-” Pure Vanilla started, and then he stopped. He gave Shadow Milk a curious look, and then he smiled. No comment, no acknowledgment, just a very warm and sincere smile. “Shall we?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Loathe as he was to admit it, the floating chair Pure Vanilla had commissioned for him did its job remarkably well. Perhaps he was not even that upset to be using it. It was awarding him the ability to see a world outside of the room that had become his doctor’s office, and that was reward enough. They were making their way through the festival, him at Pure Vanilla’s side. The chair responded smoothly to his desires, and he found it required little thought to move it—almost as little thought as it took to float normally. He had fashioned his outfit for the day to match, robes of gold and blue, patterned with embroidered stars. Pure Vanilla was wearing something simpler today, had insisted he could not bear any more of the restrictive and gaudy fashion he had been wearing. Shadow Milk was loathe to admit this, too, but it suited him. Pure Vanilla did not need ostentatious clothing to draw attention. His presence—poised and unaware of his own grace—was enough.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a sudden movement at his side, tugging him down to ground level.

A child with several missing teeth was tugging on his cape, and he turned in the air to face her.

“I like your fangs,” she was saying, pointing at him.

“Well thank you! It’s all part of the costume.” Why on Earthbread a child would focus on him, and not on his companion, he could not say.

“Mine isn’t a costume,” she replied sadly.

He leaned over, and the chair lowered in the air. “I’ll tell you the truth. Neither are mine.” A curtain of shadows fell over his face. He had cast the spell without even thinking of it, and winced when he realized the risk he had incurred just for a prank. Thankfully, and strangely, the small illusion brought him no pain.

“Wow…” she chewed on one of her fingers for a moment, thinking over her next words. “You’re really menacing.” She said the last word with a lot of confidence, like she had just recently learned it and had been looking for precisely the excuse to use it.

“That’s a pretty big word,” he said. “I bet you don’t even know what it means.”

Why are you being so nice?

It was a kid. Shadow Milk was not that foolish. Scaring a kid was a good way to get on Pure Vanilla’s bad side. He did not want to be on Pure Vanilla’s bad side.

“It means you’re scary. I read it in a book.”

“Well, well, color me shocked!” The shadows melted away from his face, and he laughed, high and shrill. “They are teaching the kids of the Vanilla Kingdom the important things! If you ever see a real monster, you’ll know how to describe it!” A real monster like him.

She kicked her feet back and forth shyly. “Are you and Healer Cookie married?”

It took him a moment to realize who she was talking about. Yes, that was right. Pure Vanilla had aliases, just as he did. Well. Perhaps not exactly as he did. And then he processed what she had said, and his eyes went wide. It was only a momentary flash, and he was certain she did not see it before his expression settled into one of boredom. 

You need to change the subject.

“No, nothing like that,” he scoffed, waving a hand back and forth. “Between you and me, kid, I’m just here to keep an eye on him.”

Her eyes widened. “Were you there when the spy showed up yesterday?”

Word gets around quick here.

Shadow Milk snorted. “Was I there? I helped take her down! Without me, this one would have been toast.” He gestured over his shoulder to where he hoped his other half was still standing. Pure Vanilla was too distracted with his own conversation to counter his showboating. He almost took a bow, before remembering that he was not floating of his own volition. He did not fancy a face full of pavement.

“Wow…” she reached into her waffle cone basket and pulled out a chain of woven flowers. She handed it up to him wordlessly, still looking awestruck.

“Pour moi?” Now, gifts, he was not accustomed to. Perhaps in the Fount’s very early days, they had received gifts for their work. No one was particularly keen on bringing gifts to beasts, however. At the very least, not to him. He lowered the chair so they were eye level and bowed his head.

“You’d better place it for me. An actor never works on their own costume!” That was a lie. He frequently designed his own costumes.

She giggled and placed it on his head, very focused, squinting her eyes to see. When he lifted his head, she was beaming, missing teeth and all.

A voice called in the distance for a ‘Strawberry Sundae Cookie’, and the girl in front of him jumped. “Over here,” she yelled.

A tall, austere cookie in a very fluffy dress approached them and scooped up her child. They looked quite alike, both with white curls framing their faces and wide smiles. Even their clothing matched—reds and berry tones that made him almost think they belonged in the Hollyberry kingdom, but of course the mother wore a scarf in that familiar waffle pattern.. He found himself strangely endeared.

Get over yourself. His internal compass sounded thoroughly disappointed in him. Not angry, just disappointed.

“Thank you for keeping her busy,” the mother said to Shadow Milk. “She always runs off at these things.”

“Yes, well. You know how kids can be,” he agreed, thinking of Candy Apple Cookie. She was certainly here somewhere, probably causing more problems he would have to clean up. Strawberry Sundae and her mother left with a wave, disappearing into the crowd, and he turned back to get Pure Vanilla’s attention.

Pure Vanilla was staring at him like he had hung the stars in place.

“Oh, what now?” Had some of the flowers fallen loose?

“I did not know you were good with children,” Pure Vanilla murmured. His eyes were impossibly bright.

“I’m not,” Shadow Milk snorted. “She was just scared of my teeth.” He gave Pure Vanilla his most intimidating smile.

“And the flower crown?”

“Oh, can it, would you?” He felt suddenly warm under the gaze that Pure Vanilla fixed upon him. “Kids are easy to talk to. You just act really big and really scary, and they think it’s a game, and then they don’t leave you alone, even when you want them to.”

“No, no.” Pure Vanilla could be so stubborn when he wanted to be. Shadow Milk started to float away, and his other half followed, hot on his tail. “You were sweet with her, I saw you.”

“Next time, I’ll just turn into a snake and start hissing. That would please you, wouldn’t it?”

“You look nice with the flowers in your hair,” Pure Vanilla said, ignoring him. There was something so disarming about his voice.

He’s only buttering you up so you trust him.

“Shut up,” Shadow Milk hissed under his breath.

“Sorry?” Pure Vanilla cocked his head to the side.

“I said shut up.”

Good. Double down on it.

“You don’t have to be so doting, you know. You’ve already thoroughly convinced me to play along with your antics. You don’t need to convince me any further.”

He wasn’t sure what response he was expecting, but it was not for Pure Vanilla to start laughing. Not at him, no—it seemed to him that sometimes Pure Vanilla was so overcome with delight he had no other action to take but to laugh. It took him a moment to compose himself. “Shadow Milk,” he managed, “I am not doting on you because I have anything to convince you of.” He took a deep breath. “Has it never occurred to you that I am doting on you because I want to?”

Of course it had, but that was asinine. There was nothing there to dote on.

Pure Vanilla, sensing his hesitance, reached out a hand and touched his face. It was barely a breath of contact, as though he wanted permission. Shadow Milk sighed and leaned into it, and immediately Pure Vanilla reached out his other hand as well, holding his face so gently.

“You may not, but I see something here worth doting on.”

Shadow Milk thought of the mirror in his room, still shattered. He averted his eyes so that he would not have to reckon with Pure Vanilla’s unfaltering sincerity. Perhaps his new tunnel vision had its benefits. Pure Vanilla began to say something else, but he was blessedly cut off by an interruption from another villager.

“Isn’t that one of the beasts?” It was a musician, just leaving a performance. He was pointing a violin bow at Shadow Milk, overtaken by a look of fear. “I’ve heard stories about them.”

You’ve been in town before. Are they all as blind as Pure Vanilla?

Shadow Milk shook his head. That was uncalled for. The citizens of the Vanilla Kingdom were foolish, yes, but they could hardly be faulted for glancing over that which was hidden. He had been using magic before. To make himself inconspicuous was as easy as breathing. With his magic, it was easier to slip into shadow, to be seen only when he wished to be. Now, he was completely visible. There was nowhere to hide.

“This is my guest,” Pure Vanilla replied, completely serene.

Shadow Milk expected a fight. He was braced for it. His soul jam ached.

The musician lowered his bow. “Ah. Alright then.”

It was that easy?

“Yes,” another cookie said, putting a hand on the musician’s shoulder. “I know he looks scary and all, but I’ve heard he’s actually quite the sweetheart!”

Well, that’s pushing it.

The cookie continued. “Strawberry Sundae Cookie is telling everyone who will listen about the scary cookie with sharp teeth that she gave a flower crown to.” Oh, curse his new costume for betraying him.

“If he’s a guest of Pure Vanilla Cookie’s, then he’s a friend to me,” the musician said with a shrug. “I apologize, Pure Vanilla Cookie. I was hasty in my judgments.” The two of them took their leave, drawn away by some new thing to buy.

“Your people are awfully trusting,” Shadow Milk hissed.

“Yes, I know.” Pure Vanilla looked… he looked exhausted. “I almost wish they weren’t, at times. Does that make me cruel? This business about the spy would not have occurred if they had shown you and your friends more suspicion.”

He did not correct him on the label of 'friends.' Candy Apple and Black Sapphire were not his 'friends.' They were... something else. They would surely leave his side if it suited them. Shadow Milk hovered closer and looped an arm around Pure Vanilla’s shoulders. “They reflect your values, you know. Your citizens are a carnival mirror. You are overly generous to those who don’t deserve it. So are they.”

“Shadow Milk.” There was an edge in his tone. He waited for the admonishment to come, but it never did. Pure Vanilla leaned into his side and took a deep breath. “I think we should return to the palace soon. Perhaps we can begin your dance lessons.”

“Then this seems like an excellent time for you to practice, oh wise Healer Cookie!”

“First, please do not use that name for me. Second, practice what?”

“Suddenly, this chair you made for me feels so heavy!” Shadow Milk pulled away and began to circle him in the chair. “We’ll need to find another way to the palace, won’t we?”

“Oh, I see.” Pure Vanilla shook off whatever irritation had come over him before. “You want to watch me fail at using the other realm again?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, far be it from me to keep you waiting.” The staff in his hands hummed and began to glow as he spun it in the air. Shadow Milk had to hand it to him, he was a quick study.

Don’t give him too much credit.

No, he was going to. It was impressive.

The portal opened in the right orientation this time, at least. They were not dropped from the ceiling into the middle of the floor.

They were, however, dropped into a broom closet.

It was claustrophobic in the small space. They were nearly on top of one another. In the brief moment where the light from the portal illuminated them, he saw the look of bewilderment on Pure Vanilla’s face, and then the portal fizzed out and plunged them into darkness. Shadow Milk opened his mouth to say something, and Pure Vanilla pressed a finger to his lips. Even in the dim light, his irritation was clear. Shadow Milk didn’t need clear vision to know how red his face was; Pure Vanilla’s hand was warm against his face.

“You’ve really-”

“Don’t.”

“You have really outdone yourself.”

“Shadow Milk Cookie.” There was a warning in his tone, but it was somewhat mitigated by his very clear effort not to laugh.

“Really. I always wanted to see what the Vanilla Kingdom really had to offer, I never knew you had such stunning broom closets! Why, I think I would be happy to just stay here forever! All roads lead to the broom closet, as they say.”

“Have you not put me through enough teasing?” Pure Vanilla was certainly trying not to laugh now. Really, it was just too easy.

“Does this broom closet have as rich a history as everything else in the Vanilla Kingdom?”

“Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla pulled him closer by his lapels. Suddenly, Shadow Milk had the urge to keep talking, just to see what his other half would do to try and shut him up. “You are making fun of me.”

“Yeah, and? What are you going to do to stop me?”

He felt breath against his lips. He smelled vanilla. Squinting, he was able to make out the expression on Pure Vanilla’s face.

He looked like he was going to eat him alive.

Shadow Milk’s eyes were half closed when light poured in, and he had to shield his face from the sudden onslaught of brightness.

A new voice broke into their conversation, if it could be called a conversation. “You know,” Black Raisin Cookie was saying, sounding exhausted, “I do not want to know.”

“Black Raisin!” Whatever it was that had crept into Pure Vanilla’s tone, it was gone now, replaced with warm familiarity. “I am sorry to drop in like this. I am… still learning how to open portals.”

“Is that what you were doing?”

Pure Vanilla looked away and scratched the back of his neck. “No, that was… We had a disagreement.”

“I was making fun of him,” Shadow Milk cut in. “He makes it too easy.”

“I repeat,” Black Raisin said, “that I do not want to know.” She stepped aside to make room for them to exit into the hall. The sunlight hurt his eyes. His heart was still hammering. 

“I am so sorry,” Pure Vanilla said, “but where in the palace are we, exactly?” He had been quick to compose himself, already brushing dust off his robes and stepping into the light. For a paragon of truth, he was quite capable of tamping down his emotions.

It did not escape Shadow Milk’s attention that his compass was silent now.

Black Raisin’s lips curled into a slight smile, but her eyes were still on him. “You’re near the kitchens. That’s where I’m coming from, actually. I’m running a few errands for Espresso Cookie—apparently he has a new recipe for the festival?” She shrugged.

“Interesting.” Pure Vanilla readjusted his soul jam on his robes. “I was under the impression he did not want to attend.”

“Oh, he isn’t.” She was shaking her head. “That’s why I’m running errands for him.”

“You should not have to do that!”

“I don’t mind, honestly. It’s giving me a chance to keep an eye on things.”

Shadow Milk slipped to the side while they spoke. He was hoping to get away from Black Raisin’s eyes—it was one thing for Pure Vanilla to see him vulnerable, but not her. If Black Raisin Cookie knew he was vulnerable, he could not be certain she would not jump on the opportunity to keep Pure Vanilla safe. At present, he was still a threat. It would be wise to take him out.

He could not slip away as easily as he was used to. Without magic, he had to actually focus on his movements, unable to dissolve into the shadows. Walking silently was not a skill he had ever had need of, and his heels clicked against the floors. He winced with every movement. There was a corner up ahead, and if he was careful, and if he was quick, he could duck around it. He wasn’t entirely sure where he would go from there, but he needed to get away from Black Raisin before she could comment on his state at present.

He did not sense the attack coming.

In one moment, the corner was in reach, and in the next, an arm was around his throat. He thrashed against the hold, but it was clear she was not letting go. With a heavy sigh, he went limp. As soon as Shadow Milk stopped moving, the pressure lifted.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Black Raisin let him go and stepped into his field of view.

“Away?”

“Shadow Milk Cookie.” She shook her head. “You know, you’re a lot less scary when you can’t sneak away into the shadows.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“I don’t use magic.” Black Raisin sounded offended. She rested her hand on her hip. “Some of us had to learn stealth the old fashioned way.”

Shadow Milk laughed. “I am so, so, so, so, so many years older than you can even imagine.”

“And yet you sneak around like a cream wolf pup that just learned how to walk.” She was completely unbothered, utterly unimpressed by his seniority. He had no illusions to draw on to scare her, so he switched gears. With his escape attempt thwarted, Shadow Milk hopped back onto the chair Pure Vanilla had given him so he could hover over both of them. His hand snaked around Pure Vanilla’s shoulders, and he batted his lashes.

“Pure Vanilla, your friend here is making fun of a cookie who is still recovering from a grave injury. Is this the sort of treatment that passes as acceptable for the Vanilla Kingdom’s most honored and handsome guests?”

“From Black Raisin Cookie, yes.” Pure Vanilla was smiling so wide. “Quite frankly, I trust her judgment more than my own, at times.” There was a look coming over his face that Shadow Milk most certainly did not like.

Scheming.

Yes. Pure Vanilla was planning something. His eyes were focused, and he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. He was drumming his fingers around his sunflower staff thoughtfully.

“Shadow Milk,” Pure Vanilla said, voice honey-sweet, and Shadow Milk knew he was about to make some ridiculous request, “I will be attending the festival again tomorrow for its final day. I would like for you to stay here.”

Why?

“Why??” Shadow Milk did not feel hurt at that. Not in the slightest.

“I should amend that statement. I would like for you to attend at my side. I think it is best, however, that you stay here. With Black Raisin Cookie.”

She cut in at that. “With me​?” Now she and Shadow Milk were staring at Pure Vanilla with equally confused expressions.

Pure Vanilla nodded. “You made a compelling point,” he remarked to Black Raisin.

“I did?”

“Shadow Milk, your lack of magic has left you unable to defend yourself in the ways you are used to. While I am more than willing to defend you,” Shadow Milk bristled. He did not need defending. Pure Vanilla continued, “I think it is best if I give you the tools to defend yourself, as well. And while I can give you exercises to strengthen your proprioception, I’m afraid I will be useless in training you in stealth, or in combat.”

“You want me to teach the Beast of Deceit self-defense?” Black Raisin’s skeptical expression had been traded for one of sheer amusement.

“Nilly,” Shadow Milk started, as saccharine and cajoling as his voice could be, “I don’t think that’s necessary-”

Pure Vanilla cut him off before he could start. “It’s settled.” He was looking back and forth between them, eyes glittering, a certain authority in his tone that said my word goes. He must have known neither of them was inclined to truly disagree with him. Infuriating as it was, he was right. Shadow Milk had little recourse to defend himself in his present state. “Tomorrow.”

The matter settled, he turned on his heel and began walking away. Shadow Milk gave Black Raisin a look, and she met his gaze. Pure Vanilla had a certain air about him that made it hard not to listen to what he said. It wasn’t as though Shadow Milk couldn’t say no to him, far from it, but he was incredibly persuasive when he wanted to be. Perhaps it was simply a desire to know what happened next, perhaps it was merely entertaining. Perhaps some part of him knew Pure Vanilla’s judgment was often correct. He held her gaze for a moment longer.

They broke into laughter. What a simple thing it was to laugh. His laughter had been a tool for intimidation for so long. It had become a thing of comfort again.

“He really is something,” Black Raisin said, with years of fondness coloring her tone. He wondered what it had been like, knowing a version of Pure Vanilla that was not an ancient hero; the Pure Vanilla she had known was merely a healer. What was it like to know him as a peer, not the perfect hero? To laugh with him as easily as she did?

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he replied, before a thousand questions could force their way into his words unbidden. She let him leave, and he set about chasing after his other half before he lost track of him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Pure Vanilla had led him to an empty hall that must have once served as a ballroom. The emptiness settled over him like a chill. The high ceilings, the large floor space… In its day, this must have been a beautiful room. Banners were hung on the walls, and afternoon light poured in through tall stained glass windows. The walls were alight with candles—though the power was back, Pure Vanilla had his ways, and old habits died hard. Against the interior walls, tables and chairs were pushed to the side, all coated with dust. In his minds eye, he could hear music and the sound of voices, the tapping of feet and shuffling of fabric. The room would have smelled of juice and good food, and it would have been hot, with so many cookies dancing together. It was not where he belonged—not as the Fount, and certainly not as the Beast of Deceit—but he was adaptable.

Those sorts of things are never worth it.

Perhaps not. But it was nice to dream.

“Shadow Milk?” There was a hand on his shoulder.

“You were holding out on me, Nilly.” He spun his chair around to get a good look at the room with his limited vision. “You had a stage this good, and you were hiding it from me?”

“Two months ago, you had the ability to break things with the flick of a wrist.”

“Which is precisely why you should have shown me this room! I could easily clear out all of this dust.” To make his point, he waved a hand in front of his face and feigned a cough. Pure Vanilla just laughed.

“Would you?”

“I said I could, my dear Vanilly, not that I would.” They were both laughing now. He had spent so much time laughing, the past few months. Some of it—a lot, even—had been manic and uncontrolled; more and more, however, it was genuine, and left him feeling lighter.

“Then you understand my trepidation.” Pure Vanilla took a few steps closer to him. “Now then. We are not here to talk, Shadow Milk, we are here for your health.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk?” He hopped off of the chair with a jolt to his legs and drew very close, chest to chest with his other half, hands gripping Pure Vanilla’s waist. “We were having a conversation earlier that I found preetty interesting.”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes were wide. In the light, he had less moxie. He cleared his throat. “Shadow Milk, this exercise is for your benefit. Please humor me?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. I think pushing your buttons is more entertaining, don’t you agree?” Shadow Milk leaned in closer and fluttered his eyelashes.

“Alright then.” Pure Vanilla sighed. Disappointment pulled his lips into a frown. It was hard to tell if it was genuine, or just for show. He stepped away and began to turn on his heel, cape sweeping through the air behind him. “Since you’re not interested, I will see myself out. If a patient is not interested in healing, it would be improper for me to attempt to force it.” And then he was making his way to the door. Shadow Milk scoffed and leaned an elbow on the chair, waiting for Pure Vanilla to return. This was all so terribly amusing.

He didn’t turn back. He was making his way to the door at a brisk pace, robes billowing behind him. All of Shadow Milk’s showmanship and irony was no match for Pure Vanilla deciding he was simply going to walk away.

Again.

Shadow Milk groaned. What an annoying cookie. “Hold on.” Pure Vanilla stopped, but did not turn. “Come on, I don’t want to spend the afternoon staring at the ceiling.”

“Is that any way to ask?”

He isn’t going to let this go, is he.

Shadow Milk sighed. “Please come back?”

This is undignified.

Yes, well. It was better than boredom. He had experienced enough boredom to drive an ordinary cookie mad several times over. It was an eternity in that tree, every second stretching for millennia. Anything was preferable to boredom.

Pure Vanilla turned, a curious look on his face. “If I return, will you humor me, or are you going to find some new way to distract me?”

“Tempting.”

“Shadow Milk.”

“Yes, fine. Stop pouting. I’ll take you up on your dance lessons.”

“Shadow Milk Cookie.” Pure Vanilla merely stared at him.

“Please, take some time out of your very, very busy schedule to teach a poor, injured beast how to dance? It would be an honor to dance with such a handsome cookie.”

Pure Vanilla dragged a hand down his face. “I’ll take it. I must repeat that this is for your benefit, not mine.”

“Let’s not pretend you won’t enjoy it.”

“Yes, well.” He chuckled. “Perhaps a little bit. It feels strange to dance without music, but we can make do.”

Shadow Milk thought on that. The ache in his soul jam had lessened somewhat. He could almost ignore it when he was distracted. In town, he had cast a small illusion with no pain, surely one more could not hurt. So that Pure Vanilla would not see or scold him, he folded his hands behind his back and flicked his wrist. He still found himself bracing for pain, to slump forward into Pure Vanilla’s arms, but none came.

The tapestries on the walls came to life, the instruments woven into the fabric animating and beginning to play. Music gently lilted through the room. It was a waltz, one he did not remember learning, but that had come to mind immediately. The blue door in his mind was still shut, but something had come through. Pure Vanilla gave him a curious look.

“Are you alright?” Concern and delight fought for control over Pure Vanilla’s face, his smile coming and then going as his gaze turned this way and that. “That music is you, isn’t it?”

“Nooo, I’m not alright, I’m dying, that was my very last spell.” Shadow Milk staggered towards him with his arms outstretched. With a rattling voice, he whispered, “tell my minions... they’re absolutely terrible at their jobs.”

Pure Vanilla laughed and held out his arms. Shadow Milk fell into them with all the grace of a cookie with limited vision attempting a trust fall—which is to say, he missed.

His pride hurt worse than his dough, but both were smarting as Pure Vanilla helped him up. Perhaps the dancing was not the worst idea.

“Do you understand now why I think this will help you?” Pure Vanilla’s voice was soft.

“Yes, yes, you won, are you happy?”

“Very!” How sincere. “Now then.” Pure Vanilla’s hands found his. He did know how to dance, and assumed position, with one hand on Pure Vanilla’s waist. They clasped hands, and Pure Vanilla smiled at him so warmly. Everything was singing. The music he had summoned picked up in volume, and some small part of him was reminded of his past. Surely the Fount had attended parties in his time, no? 

There was little room for conversation once the actually lesson began. Pure Vanilla had much experience as a teacher, and even Shadow Milk’s ordinarily ornery nature could not compete with his patient insistence, so he simply complied with instructions. Although his prior knowledge made things easier, learning to rely on his senses and not on his panoptic vision was challenging in ways he had not anticipated. He had not realized how instinctive it was to watch his own steps with his other eyes. For so long, he had existed as something disembodied, seeing himself from multiple angles at all times, and now he was entirely aware that he was a physical being. A physical being that tripped, often, and had to recover his balance against his dancing partner. He had to cling to Pure Vanilla to keep from falling. Pure Vanilla, by contrast, moved with grace, practiced in his steps. That was the benefit of living as long as both of them had, he supposed. There was time to learn as many skills as one could possibly dream of learning.

It took some time, but Shadow Milk started to understand the lesson after Pure Vanilla extended a hand to spin him, and he found himself shutting his eyes.

In the darkness behind his eyelids, he relied on his sense of balance and the pressure of the hand in his to orient himself and take sweeping steps back to position.

His steps were steady. Confident. He knew these steps, knew this dance. He did not need sight to feel out the steps that were so familiar to him. Pure Vanilla’s hand returned to his side. His heels swept in circles across the floor, wind whistled in his ears. The hand around his back was a guide, steadying him when he wavered and keeping his movements grounded. The simple steps had been forgotten. As soon as Shadow Milk showed confidence, Pure Vanilla had responded in turn, leading them in circles around the room and adding his own improvisations to the simple steps.

Shadow Milk was following better than he expected. His initial dizziness had faded, and now he felt strengthened. The music, too, responded to his proficiency, picking up in pace and complexity. The whirling notes surrounded him, and he nearly felt that he could fly again.

Pure Vanilla was enjoying himself. It was clear from the smile on his face, from the way he almost seemed to float across the floor, the way he hummed along with the music. The original pretense of this outing had long been forgotten a while ago. They were now dancing for the pure joy of it.

Have you not learned enough by now?

Possibly, but there was something he wanted to do, first. Shadow Milk remembered something Pure Vanilla had said the other day, and tipped his head to the side. His dancing partner gave him a curious look when the instruments in the air suddenly changed their tune to an old folk song, one he had learned when he was reading every book in the library.

“Don’t you want to pick up the pace?” Shadow Milk offered as an explanation. “These steps are boring. You’re going to put me to sleep, Nilly.”

Pure Vanilla shrugged. They both knew he was well familiar with how capricious Shadow Milk’s whims were.

After a moment, Pure Vanilla’s humming turned into words, and then he was singing along, so softly Shadow Milk had to lean in closer to hear him. In their conversations, Pure Vanilla had called himself something of a poor singer. Now, with his head resting against Pure Vanilla’s shoulder, lost in a dance, he thought that that could not be further from the truth. The voice gently lilting over him was the sweetest music he had ever heard.

This is not necessary.

No, it wasn’t. None of this had been. Coming here in the first place had been unnecessary. Sometimes, good things were not necessary. Sometimes the best things in the world could be found upon the paths that led to dead ends. Where had his desire been all of those eons? His desire to dance, to laugh, to listen to music? Some part of him was awake now that had long been asleep. When Pure Vanilla had come to the spire, something had appeared again, a sense he had long forgotten: curiosity. It had been vicious and all consuming, a hungry beast that asked just how far he could push things. How far he could push Pure Vanilla.

Curiosity sang to him once more, now singing a much softer melody. His mind filled with questions. How many songs did Pure Vanilla know? How many of them would he be willing to sing?

The music came to an end. The arms encircling him squeezed, and then released. Pure Vanilla stepped away, and his expression was completely unreadable.

“Well?” He inclined his head.

“Well, what?” Shadow Milk crossed his arms. He missed the warmth.

“Was I right?” There was a smile there, a bit of laughter, but there was also something else. Something Pure Vanilla was not saying, a question buried deep in his chest.

“Ugh. Fiiiiine.” Shadow Milk rolled his eyes. “Yes, you were right. You’re the wisest cookie in all of Earthbread, even wiser than I. Your dancing lessons have cured me.”

It may have been sarcasm, but the words were more genuine than he had intended them to be. Just a bit of sweetness underneath the biting tone. Pure Vanilla did not look satisfied, still mulling something over, but he nodded. “I am glad.” Then, with something small and fragile tinging his voice, he added, “would you like to do this again, sometime?”

Shadow Milk smiled, his eyes creased at the corners. He took a low, sweeping bow. “It would be my utmost pleasure.” Once more, the sarcasm in his voice could not entirely hide his sincerity.

You don’t have to tell him the truth.

Pure Vanilla’s shoulders relaxed. His gaze softened. And yet there was still something he wasn’t voicing, something in his chest he was not letting go of. The tension radiated off of him, and Shadow Milk could almost feel it himself.

“It’s getting late,” Shadow Milk commented. Pure Vanilla’s eyes were downcast. Time slowed as Shadow Milk stepped closer. “I should really be returning to my room soon to rest for the night.”

His other half nodded.

“Will you be joining me?” He prayed the snake would have nothing to say about this as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Pure Vanilla’s cheek. At that, at last, the tension fully melted away, and Pure Vanilla slumped forward ever so slightly. He nodded again, this time meeting Shadow Milk’s gaze and smiling.

As they left, arm in arm, Pure Vanilla murmured, “did you always have stars in your hair?”

Chapter Text

The palace courtyard was quiet. Not silent, not suffocating, but quiet. Bluebirds in the trees made quiet music. Wind rustled the leaves of the tall maple tree that Shadow Milk was resting against, and though he could not see the light filtering through the leaves, he could picture it perfectly. The wind painted enough of a picture. The grass beneath his hands was strangely soft; he pinched a blade of grass between his fingers and marveled at the way it split down the seam when he bent it. That would not please Pure Vanilla, he thought. Even the smallest blade of grass deserved respect, in his eyes. What a bleeding heart. Shadow Milk found that he was grateful for it. That bleeding heart had given him somewhere to stay. Had housed his followers. And what had he gotten in return? 

How long had it been since the night Shadow Milk had left? That night still echoed in his memories, slowly decaying until it became recognizable. What was the half-life of unwanted memories? It always seemed that the memories he wanted were locked away, and the memories he would have loved to drown in the flood were the ones that stayed with him. Pure Vanilla’s eyes had not left his memory, but the expression on them had only grown more and more distorted with each recollection.

And then of course there had been the look on Hollyberry Cookie’s face when he appeared in her palace that same night, stepping through a shaky portal. She had not expected him to actually follow up on their conversation. That much had been very clear.

He really ought to write to her.

Not now, though. Now, he sat in the courtyard, waiting for Black Raisin Cookie. The festivities outside were still going, and he was certain Pure Vanilla was being carted this way and that by Clotted Cream Cookie, answering questions and reassuring everyone that the spy was long gone. It was none of his business. He was not entertaining errant children or pretentious consuls today. No, he had much more interesting plans; chief of which was letting Black Raisin throw him around and try to stab him. He was listening intently for her arrival. Among the frivolous gossip of the bluebirds, he heard it. The harsh call of a crow. Now he was wary, tensed and ready for action. That she had not announced herself made him think he was being tested.

When the attack came from his side, he was ready, but his movement was slower than his reaction, and her fist caught the edge of his jaw as she landed.

“Most cookies say hello,” he said.

“I’m not Pure Vanilla Cookie,” she replied. “You can’t sass me.”

“Or?”

“Or I will hit you. We’re here to train, not make small talk.”

“You make small talk with Nilly, don’t you?” She threw another blow, and this time he managed to dodge at the last second. She gave him an approving nod.

“He’s an old friend. I’m doing him a favor.” He swung at her, and she caught his wrist in her hand. In one swift motion, she threw him over her shoulder. Everything started spinning. The ground came flying at him, and the breath was knocked out of him immediately.

And then he heard applause.

“Really good show,” a familiarly sardonic voice said. “If I attacked him like that, I would be crumbs by now.”

“You did attack him like that,” a syrupy sweet voice corrected.

Black Sapphire and Candy Apple, who were not wearing their disguises on the castle grounds, approached, upside down from his perspective.

“Isn’t this my lucky day,” Shadow Milk growled. “To what do I owe the pleasure of my dearest minions showing their faces?”

“We wanted to see you show this little cookie what you can really do,” Candy Apple replied, eyes narrow and a mischievous smile on her face.

Speaking over her, Black Sapphire contested, “I wanted to see if she could beat you in a fight.” They both stared at each other, and then back at him, and then back at each other. Clearly, they had not planned their next words carefully. He fixed them with a withering stare and took some satisfaction in the way they both winced.

Mutinous dogs.

Shadow Milk pushed himself off of the ground and glowered at Black Sapphire. “I leave you to your own devices for a few days and you start planning a mutiny, I see how it is.”

For a moment, Black Sapphire tensed, ready for an argument, fists closing around his microphone, and then Shadow Milk broke into laughter, and the tension melted away.

“Perhaps this benefits us,” Black Raisin said thoughtfully. “If you two aren’t needed at the festival, would you like to help me?”

No, that is a terrible idea.

Absolutely not. If they saw him this weak, they would never trust his judgment again. Shadow Milk shook his head at them and drew a finger across his throat. Both of them ignored him and stepped in line with Black Raisin. Mutinous fiends.

Letting his minions utterly defeat him in combat was hardly his idea of a fun time.

At first.

It was Black Sapphire that stepped up to bat first, cracking his knuckles. Black Raisin ordered him not to use magic, which felt sort of like a cop out, but when the first blow actually connected with him, he found himself grateful for it. His dough bruised at the point of impact, and he saw stars when he was thrown back. This body Dark Enchantress had made for him was surprisingly feeble, a reflection of how little he relied on brute strength. When had he ever needed physical strength to win a fight? Oh to have the inhuman strength enjoyed by one of his colleagues in particular…

The next few blows hit hard, and he landed in the grass more than a few times. Black Sapphire fought like a dancer, weaving under his blows and striking his pressure points. It was Black Raisin that called time and pulled them apart. In the middle of the break that followed, he examined his injuries. None of it was particularly concerning, this wasn’t a real fight, but still—he was bruised, and his knuckles were crumbling at the joints. This was going to be a long morning.

Candy Apple stepped up next. He was expecting an easier match this time, but she was fast, all of that energy presenting itself as a flurry of blows. He matched her in strength easily, but she had more energy, and for every strike he blocked with the back of his arm, another would crash into him. Suddenly, he felt a twinge of sympathy for Black Sapphire. If this was what he dealt with every day, it was no wonder the two of them bickered so frequently. Black Raisin pulled him aside after a particularly hard blow to the solar plexus left him winded and digging his nails into the bark of the tree.

“You need to get out of your head.” Her voice was low. “Stop thinking about your next move, I can almost hear you scheming. You need to start paying attention.”

Like the dancing the night before. Don’t think about the steps, just do them. Ages of living as only a mind, with his body only really serving as a projection of that mind, had led him to forget that to his core he was a physical being, a living thing with limbs and jam and a body. Now, massaging his arm and preparing for another round, he was very acutely aware that he was a physical being. He was a physical being that could be injured. There was jam in the back of his throat.

Something changed the next time he stood for a match. Black Raisin started counting time, and Black Sapphire stretched and bounced back and forth on his heels. The tides of combat were always fickle, and he was prepared to take Black Raisin’s advice in stride. Deceit was adaptable. Black Sapphire stepped towards him, arm cocked back to strike, and he took a deep breath and stepped aside. Time slowed to a crawl. As they passed each other, he hooked his foot around Black Sapphire’s leg, knocking him to the ground.

“Good,” Black Raisin said. She gave him an appraising look. Feeling strangely childish, he nodded at the praise.

After that, the change in the tides was pronounced. He could not turn to shadow as he once had, could not hide from their gaze, but an old skill presented itself. Magic tricks. The crux of many magic tricks, those that required no real spellcraft, was showmanship. Draw the viewers eyes to your right hand, so they do not see what your left is doing. His skill at deflection suddenly became useful, and his minions complained during their next break that it was impossible to read him.

“I think it was easier to read him when he had magic,” Black Sapphire was complaining. That was probably true, he could admit. With magic, he had less need of subterfuge.

“Master Shadow Milk Cookie is adaptable,” Candy Apple replied. “Of course he figured out a way to beat us!” She would continue to sing his praises, even though he was battered and nursing a headache. Strangely, his soul jam was not aching. Only his dough.

He had found that with nothing but his own fists to work with, he had little strength to speak of. What he had, though, in spades, was the ability to feint one way or the other. He did not need physical strength—he needed to redirect their strength. The next time he fought Black Sapphire Cookie, he put this concept to work. Whenever an attack came at him, he would duck out of the way and guide him forward. It was not dissimilar to the strategy Pure Vanilla so frequently employed verbally. Let the attack come, let them spend their energy, and redirect when there is an opening.

If anything, he gained a new appreciation for the lengths Pure Vanilla went to ignore his teasing and provocations.

They were taking a break now. Candy Apple was stacking maple leaves on Black Sapphire’s head while he pretended not to notice. Shadow Milk was laying flat on his back, watching the bluebirds in the tree. The sun hurt his eyes, but he did not look away from it. Black Raisin was listening to one of her crows chatter in her ear. His hands itched.

“I’ve had enough of throwing these two around,” Shadow Milk scoffed. “I want a real fight.”

“Are you sure?” Black Raisin cracked her knuckles. The sun was high in the sky. It was only just past noon. Shadow Milk’s jaw twitched as sweat beaded on his face.

“Come onnn, don’t tell me you’re scared to fight me?”

“I’m really, really not.” She stood and rolled her shoulders. It was somewhat admirable, he thought, that she was so confident in her abilities. Enviable, even. He had seen her doubt her judgment before, trawling Pure Vanilla’s memories, but her confidence in her ability to fight was unshakable. Perhaps he could get in her head. Languidly, he stretched and rose to his feet.

He opened his mouth to start with another taunt, but she was already coming at him, and her fist connected with his jaw. Hard.

I’m not even going to say anything. You asked for this one.

She was fast. Faster than his minions, who were both, as he was, used to relying on magic. They could be tricked and deceived. Not her. Even going easy on him, which he knew she was, she was so much faster than him.

Not just that.

She had been watching him fight. His deflections didn’t work on her.

“If you really want to win this fight,” she said, hooking her arm around his neck, “you’ll have to learn how I fight. You can’t just feint around me forever.”

No, she was not dancing around him like Black Sapphire. Nor was she delivering a concentrated flurry of blows like Candy Apple. She was attacking head on, using her stealth and dexterity to come at him from every direction. He would need to match her skills. She released him, and he struck back with an elbow, not taking the time to step back and consider. He was rewarded with a solid thwack as his attack connected. She shoved him away, and this time he was ready. When her attack came from the right, he darted under her and struck out, catching her shoulder. Unlike his matches with his minions, where he had utilized magician’s tricks to obfuscate, this fight was far less stylistic. He was not dancing around her, they were trading blows. She was hitting him twice for every one blow he got on her, but he only found himself galvanized. He was going to win, eventually.

She came at him from the front, arm swinging back for a final blow, and he dug his heels into the earth. As her fist swung down, his reached up and caught her arm, and then he leveraged her weight against her to throw her over his shoulder, just as she had done to him.

Immediately afterwards, he collapsed to the ground, thoroughly spent. They lay on the ground beside each other, both breathing heavily. His soul jam was pulsing, but there was no pain. Black Raisin Cookie was laughing. She wiped sweat from her brow and threw out her arms into the grass.

“I haven’t had that much fun in a fight in a long time,” she chuckled. “When I was leading my village, fighting was only used to protect them. It was a necessity. Practicing like this is… actually fun. I never thought of sparring like that before. I spend so much time with Pure Vanilla, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone spar with me.”

“What about his friends?” Shadow Milk said through slow breaths. He was beginning to feel dizzy. “That Hollyberry Cookie would probably leap over the moon if someone asked her to spar.”

Black Raisin barked out a delirious laugh. “Hollyberry Cookie? She would crumble me!”

He bit back a response about where that put him. He knew that at his best, she would not have posed a serious threat to him. But he was not at his best, and yet… he wondered if it was so wrong that his heart swelled with pride. At his very worst, he had still managed to beat her. He was still powerful. Still a beast.

Before he could really consider that, he was taken out of his thoughts by his minion’s applause. Candy Apple was at his side, pushing a glass into his hands and forcing him to sit up.

“It’s for healing,” she said, staring at him with adoration. When had she found the time to produce a healing potion? “You need to take it, Master Shadow Milk Cookie! You can’t stay like this!” When he only stared at her, she pushed the glass towards his lips herself. Suddenly, the title felt excessive. It never had before, had it? And yet, when she said his name with so much devotion, he felt as though he had walked into a patch of stinging nettles.

“It really does help,” Black Sapphire commented, holding up an empty glass. Indeed, he seemed slightly better off, his scrapes healed and with more energy in his voice.

Shadow Milk took the glass from Candy Apple and let the cool potion coat his tongue. It tasted like summer. Sweet and salty. Immediately, he felt stronger. New energy surged through him. When he examined his hands, he could see that the crumbling dough around his knuckles had knit itself back together.

“Shadow Milk,” he said to Candy Apple.

“What?” She frowned at him. To Black Sapphire, she hissed, “is something wrong with the potion?”

“My name.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “All of the showy titles are just too much. You need to cut down on your script if you ever wanna make it in showbiz. Haven’t you ever heard of killing your darlings?” He waved his hands in the air. “It’s just Shadow Milk, capisce?”

Now everyone was looking at him.

What are you playing at?

“It’s just too much,” he repeated. He wasn’t sure who he was talking to.

“Okay,” Candy Apple said, puffing out her cheeks and considering it. “Okay, Shadow Milk!”

Hearing his name in her squeaky voice with no added designations or titles was somewhat unnerving, but it also held a new weight to it. Something real. He had been reduced to an ordinary cookie. Ordinary cookies did not have minions.

They had friends.

These cookies, sitting in a semi-circle around him and laughing, were they his friends? If ever he’d had friends to speak of, he supposed they must be. There were the other beasts, they had been his friends once, hadn’t they? But no, he could not call them that now. There was too much animosity between them. Things they blamed him for, blame he deserved. His seeds of deceit had played no small part in their descent. He would have no love for himself, were he in their shoes.

These cookies were not like that. They were not like his colleagues, not like the other beasts at all. Sure, they argued sometimes—Black Sapphire and Candy Apple, especially. But had they not helped each other up at the end of every match? Had they not brought him medicine?

“You fought well, Ma- Shadow Milk,” Black Sapphire commented. “I was sort of expecting her to tear you apart.”

“Yes, and I haven’t forgotten that,” Shadow Milk replied, baring his teeth, lest they forget he was more than capable of being dangerous.

“Can you show us how to fight like that?” Candy Apple scrambled over and sat beside him. After a moment, he rested his arm on her head and leaned back against the tree.

“Maybe if you’re nice. And if I’m in a good mood.” He shot Black Raisin a look, and she smiled back. There was a glass in her hands, and her injuries were healing well. A memory came to him, a scene from the very start of this charade: Black Sapphire Cookie throwing him into a wall with an overly powerful spell. He had sat beside them then, too. It was different now. There was laughter bubbling in his chest.

“Next time,” Black Raisin said, “I will train you two as well. And next time, I won’t go easy on you.”

Shadow Milk balled up a maple leaf and threw it at her. “Next time, I’ll have all of my power back, and you will be nothing more than an insignificant ant in my way.” His taunting sing-song had no effect on her. She just laughed.

“Sure.”

He wondered what Pure Vanilla had told her about him. There was no doubt in his mind that she had been told about him, but she regarded him like something to be feared and respected at once. She would not hesitate to fight him, should the need arise, but she was also completely comfortable laughing with him and sharing a moment of peace. How had Pure Vanilla justified his presence here?

“Hey.” She snapped a finger in front of his face. “Will you go check on Pure Vanilla Cookie?”

“Is he not still at the festival?” He cocked his head to the side. With barely disguised contempt, he added, “with Clotted Cream?”

“Not anymore, no.” There was a crow perched on her shoulder. Had that been the message she had received earlier? “He came back a while ago to answer a few letters, and I want to make sure he’s alright.” Well. Clotted Cream’s pride was probably smarting if Pure Vanilla left him at the festival alone. Shadow Milk laughed to himself at that image.

“Why don’t you check on him yourself?” It felt strange, being told to go do errands. Particularly by a mortal cookie like her. 

A mortal cookie who threw you into the ground , repeatedly.

Well, he wasn’t asking for an opinion, was he?

I am your internal compass. You are always asking for my opinion.

Perhaps a distraction was in order, after all. Black Raisin was saying something, giving him another reason why he ought to check on Pure Vanilla, but he wasn’t listening. He yawned, stretched, and rose to his feet. She stopped mid-sentence.

“You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?” Her eyebrows were raised.

“Not a word.” He took a bow.

She just shook her head and didn’t reply.

“I’m taking my leave now,” he announced to no one in particular. “Au revoir, I will see you all soon!”

“Have fun, Shadow Milk!” Candy Apple called after him, clearly savoring her new permission to use his name. He hoped that did not end up annoying him down the line.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was not difficult to find Pure Vanilla Cookie. The healer was slumped over his desk with a quill in hand, ink pooling under his hands, gently snoring. He was fast asleep, and did not respond when Shadow Milk poked his shoulder, nor when he started to ramble, pacing around him. He reached over and gently scooted the papers away from him, and then the pot of ink that had spilled. Goodness, Pure Vanilla’s handwriting was messy. Pure Vanilla tensed when Shadow Milk touched his hands. He took a step back.

“Hey. Nilly.” He clapped his hands together. “Vanilly. Sunflower. Pure Vanilla Cookie.” Nothing. He leaned in closer. “Hero of truth. Thief of my soul jam.” How long could he go before he ran out of sobriquets? This was starting to feel silly.

Pure Vanilla’s arms twitched again, and then he murmured something softly. Shadow Milk leaned in to try and hear him. It was barely a breath, hardly coherent as language.

“I’m sorry.” There was an edge of panic to the healer’s voice. Shadow Milk felt his heartbeat quickening. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nilly.” He shook Pure Vanilla’s shoulder again. This was not the first time he had rescued his other half from a nightmare, but... The last time, he had fled. He had no such intentions now.

“I’m sorry,” Pure Vanilla was repeating. The agony in his voice was freezing Shadow Milk’s jam. And then Pure Vanilla said something that completely stopped him in place. “Shadow Milk, I’m sorry.”

You​​?

“Hey.” Shadow Milk placed his hands on the edge of the desk and pushed down, jumping onto it so he had a better vantage point. He reached out a hand and ran it through Pure Vanilla’s hair, working out knots. Consolation did not come naturally to him. “I don’t really know what to do here,” he said aloud. “Which I’m sure you would find very amusing. Look at what you’ve done to me, Nilly. I’m trying to be comforting.” He worked another tangle free.

A cry wrenched itself from Pure Vanilla’s throat, and Shadow Milks hands stilled.

“Look,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re dreaming about. You keep saying my name. I get it! I leave a big impression, it’s not surprising that I’m on your mind. But-”

“Shadow Milk?” Pure Vanilla’s voice was so soft, so sad.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m so dashing that I’m haunting your dreams.” Talking to a cookie that was asleep was not the most entertaining way to spend an afternoon. “Most cookies sleep at night, you know.”

“You’re here.”

Oh. Oh, no, he was awake. Shadow Milk turned his gaze down, and Pure Vanilla was looking up at him through heavy lidded eyes. There were tears staining his face.

“A little birdie told me to check on you, and here I am.” He poked Pure Vanilla’s forehead. “What were you dreaming about, huh?”

In his mind, he was hovering in a sun drenched library, rousing this very same cookie from a dream. How long had it been since then? How long had it been since everything that had happened after?

Perhaps y ou should avoid that line of thinking .

“I was dreaming about you,” Pure Vanilla answered, and his brows were knit together. His gaze was searching. Shadow Milk wondered what he was looking for. The feeling of deja vu was an unwelcome guest, making itself at home in his chest. He wanted to run.

Shadow Milk bared his teeth. “Well, I’m right here. Whatever you wanted to say, you can say it to my face. All of your dreams are coming true, huh?” The venom that came out of his mouth felt wrong. He could not abide this moment of peace, not without destroying it. Pure Vanilla was frowning. There were still tears in his eyes.

If anyone heard about his next actions, there would be consequences. He heaved a sigh. Gently, he brushed his thumb across Pure Vanilla’s cheek and wiped the tears away. The dough beneath his hand was cool. His other half leaned into the touch, so he continued to brush his thumb in circles over Pure Vanilla’s cheek. A hand came to hold his in place, tight around his wrist, and then Pure Vanilla turned and pressed a kiss into his palm.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured into Shadow Milk’s hand.

“It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.”

“Please let me have this.” Another kiss pressed into his palm, like a secret.

“What was I doing in your dreams?” Something teasing crept into his tone. Perhaps, if he could not do anything else, he could at least come off detached. Like he did not care about all of this.

“Suffering.”

Shadow Milk choked on his next words. “Excuse me?”

Honest answers. Always so painful.

Pure Vanilla looked up at him through thick lashes, still clinging to his hand like a lifeline. “I did not think it would hurt you when I bound your wrists, Shadow Milk. In the library. I thought...”

“You want to talk about this now​?” He leaned away as much as he could while the hand on his pinned him in place.

“I am being serious.” There was so much gravity to Pure Vanilla’s tone, an insistent weight that pulled him down like a stone. If that insistence was a stone pulling him down, his next words were the tides that drowned him. “I did not mean to hurt you, I swear. I would never.” his voice was breaking.

“I know.”

You’re being honest with him?

“In the spire,” Shadow Milk said. “You never hurt me. Even when I hurt your friends. Even when I pushed you to your breaking point. Your commitment to pacifism is... it's something.” 

“You wondered just how far you could push me,” Pure Vanilla replied.

“Yes, and now I have my answer.” He held up his free arm with a limp wrist, like a puppet.

“I only wanted to stop you.”

“Let me get this straight.” Shadow Milk squinted at him. “You were having a nightmare about the day that I attacked you, and your concern was that I was in pain?” A manic sort of laughter was threatening to overtake him, something that had been biding its time for the right moment to strike.

“Yes.”

“I could drown in how much jam is bleeding from your heart.”

Pure Vanilla sighed. “Thank you for waking me,” he murmured. He pulled away from Shadow Milk, released his hand, and stepped out of his chair. “But I should really attend to-”

“Pure Vanilla Cookie.” He knew that if nothing else, he could always silence Pure Vanilla with the use of his full name. Pure Vanilla turned, opened his mouth to say something more.

Shadow Milk cut him off by gripping his shoulders and pulling him forward into a hug. Whatever he had intended to say, it died out quickly. Shadow Milk’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, and they slotted together like two halves of one whole. Everything stilled. The shadows of the midday sun stopped their crawling across the room. The birds outside concluded their songs. Even the breeze rattling the windows seemed to take a breath in and pause.

“I’m okay,” he soothed. “I’m fine now. Can’t get rid of me that easily, I’m like a shadow. I’m always there.”

Pure Vanilla’s arms twitched, and then came up to wrap around Shadow Milk’s waist. He was trembling. All of that patience, all of that resolve, melted away by one embrace. Pure Vanilla was crying. Two months ago, he would have taken this as a success—he had corrupted Pure Vanilla so thoroughly that he was turning to the Beast of Deceit as a bastion of comfort. Now…

Now, he shushed quietly and rubbed Pure Vanilla’s shoulders. A mimic, that’s what he was. A very good mimic. So he used the skills he was given. He mimicked the motions Pure Vanilla had gone through for him when he dreamt of a garden on fire. Soft sounds, gentle movements. Quiet assurances that sounded rotten in his voice. Mismatched eyes met his, so full of feeling, and he leaned over to kiss Pure Vanilla’s forehead.

“You’re crying,” Pure Vanilla murmured.

“I thought you didn’t lie.” Despite it all, he still had it in him to laugh.

“I don’t.”

“Then why did you just say- I can’t. Literally. Don’t have the eyes for it.”

Pure Vanilla hummed. One of the arms around his waist moved, fabric brushed his arms, and a thumb gently ghosted across his cheek. His face was wet.

“You’re crying,” Pure Vanilla repeated. Shadow Milk tensed. So far, his soul jam had been able to handle magic in small doses. Perhaps one portal would not exacerbate the damage. If he was fast, he could leave now. He could get away from all of this. His claws dug into Pure Vanilla’s robes. The sound of the fabric tearing faded away as his mind spiraled into the horizon. Distantly, he heard speaking, understood that Pure Vanilla was trying to say something, but he was shutting himself away. Perhaps there was respite beyond a chipped blue door.

“Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla was pulling on his arms.

“That’s me.”

“We need to talk.”

That got him to move. Pushing past Pure Vanilla, he scrambled away, off the desk, towards the center of the room. “Talk about what, Nilly?” Every muscle was tense.

“You and I need to have a conversation, and I am not waiting for anything else to go wrong before we have the chance. You are being sweet with me right now. I want to talk before you change your mind.” What an opportunist.

“You can talk if you want, I can be a good audience.” Shadow Milk twirled his hair with one hand. If he moved slowly, maybe he could reach the window. If not, he could circle around and make a mad dash for the door.

“I have a question… have had a question, for some time now. With the kingdom in a state of relative peace, I would like an answer, before something else happens that I need to fix.” Shadow Milk recalled a previous conversation they had several days ago—another conversation he had hoped to escape. Leading in times of strife, Pure Vanilla had said, with downcast eyes. That was what he dreaded.

“Yeah, yeah. The show goes on, there’s always something.”

“Shadow Milk. Why did you leave? I asked you this when you saved me from Pomegranate Cookie’s illusions, but you waved me off.” Pure Vanilla took a few steps closer to him, and Shadow Milk took a few steps back. “I would very much like to know the answer. I apologize for my impudence in asking before. It was rather a poor time to ask, I realize now.”

Shadow Milk froze. Ice crept up his legs. His eyes were wide, and his jam was running cold. The other realm called to him, and his fingers twitched.

“You scared me,” he said. “Which is a laugh. I’m the scary one. I’m the monster you fear is lurking just beyond your peripheral vision. I have eyes in every shadow. I do not get scared, Pure Vanilla Cookie.” His tone was dangerous, balancing on a dagger’s edge. Behind Pure Vanilla, he saw the sparks of a portal beginning to form. So long as he did not turn around...

“When I kissed you?” Pure Vanilla wrapped his arms around himself. “I apologize if I came on too strong. I believed that maybe… But no. I mistook your feelings for something else. I am sorry, Shadow Milk.” His face was red. It looked as though he was digging his nails into his shoulders. Where had all his bravado gone? This was surely not the same cookie who could pin him in place with a stare, who had looked at him like the answers to all the world’s questions could be found in his gaze, who had stayed with him through all of his worst choices. Pure Vanilla had always been so good at hiding his self-doubt. His patience was insistent. He was so open with his affections. Seeing his vulnerability so plainly felt wrong. This was something he was not meant to see, not without having done something horrible to bring it forward.

Pure Vanilla had fooled him once with a mask. The hero of truth was terribly gifted at weaving lies. Perhaps he had fooled Shadow Milk again. Perhaps he had fooled everyone. How much of that confidence had been real​?

Make a decision. Leave or stay, but stop ruminating.

His internal compass was stern, but there was no judgment. No fear. Just irritation. There were no fangs pressed to his throat, no vice around his heart. Just a simple request. Make a decision. That voice had always tried to protect him, hadn’t it?

“No.” Shadow Milk heaved a long sigh. “You didn’t mistake anything. You were, as always, annoyingly correct. That’s what scared me.”

“I- What?” Pure Vanilla just blinked at him, as though waking from a dream. “No, you- You said… Surely that cannot be right.”

“I said I made a mistake.” Shadow Milk groaned. The word tasted like vinegar and rot. “I… should not have said that.” With great pains, he added, “and… ugh. And I’m sorry.”

Pure Vanilla merely stared at him.

“I- Listen. Improv is not what I do, you know that. I plan ahead, so I can put on the best show I possibly can. I can adapt, yes, deceit is always adaptable, but there has to be an armature to work off of first. You threw a wrench in my plans and forced me off script.”

“So then…” Pure Vanilla tilted his head to the side. “You do have feelings for me?”

“You do not know how to phrase things delicately, Nilly.” Shadow Milk stepped forward. The card table was beside him, and he gently sidestepped it. “It’s annoying.”

In this position, Shadow Milk realized, it would be so easy for him to take the soul jam. Too easy. But… he wasn’t going to. They both knew that. Pure Vanilla was staring at him with an eagerness that took him aback. For a cookie with so much practice at shaping his expressions, Shadow Milk realized that he did not know what his face looked like.

“I like to make my beliefs clear,” Pure Vanilla replied. “That is something I value. I believe it is important to make my desires clear, so that my friends may understand me better.”

“What do you desire now?” Shadow Milk traced his jaw with one finger.

“I believe you know the answer to that question,” Pure Vanilla huffed.

And then Shadow Milk Cookie was kissing him. Furiously. Both hands on his face, pressing his weight into him like he was afraid Pure Vanilla would suddenly float away. Pure Vanilla’s hands wrapped around him, holding him there. The world stopped moving. The other realm’s call faded into the background. Shadow Milk stopped kissing him, only to kiss his cheeks, his lips, his jaw-

“Shadow Milk Cookie,” Pure Vanilla managed. “I did- I did have more I wished to discuss with you.”

“Mm.” Shadow Milk kissed his cheek. “Can it wait?”

“I… I don’t think so, no.” He sighed. “I need to know if you intend to stay in the Vanilla kingdom.” Shadow Milk stopped kissing him. “Things… things are going to get worse. We both know this. I need to know if you are my friend.”

“I...” Shadow Milk leaned back, and Pure Vanilla looked at him like he had hung the stars, “am so much more than just your friend. To sum up everything I am in so few words would do me a disservice.”

“Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla gave him a warning glance, and then pushed him forward so he landed on one of the chairs. The breath was knocked out of him, and then Pure Vanilla was leaning over him, with his knee resting on the chair beside him. He could feel the weight of it.

“Oh.”

“Please answer my question.”

“I’m a little bit distracted, Nilly.”

“Hmmm.” He leaned in closer and pressed a kiss to Shadow Milk’s cheek. “And your answer to my question?”

“I- Creators’ sake.” His dough was so warm. “Yes. I want to stay here, you big drama queen. Whatever happens next is going to be a hell of a show, and I do not want to miss it. And you,” he leaned his head to the side, “will need an ally who can turn the tide.”

“Oh, I’ll need a lot more than that,” Pure Vanilla replied. Shadow Milk felt giddiness he had not felt in a long, long time. Not pride, not mania, not fear. Joy. Giddy, foolish joy. He could get drunk on this feeling. Pure Vanilla pressed another kiss to his cheek, then to his lips. The room was beginning to spin.

“Nilly.” Pure Vanilla kissed him. “Nills.” Another kiss. “Is all of this a part of your offer to be friends, or is this something else?”

“What do you want it to be?”

“Something else.”

“Then it is something else.” Pure Vanilla kissed his nose.

“This is the only time I am ever going to be a pragmatist,” Shadow Milk replied, smiling against Pure Vanilla’s lips, “but if I’m gonna be your ally, you really ought to tell your friends. The fallout if you don't is not going to be pretty, and as much as I would love to watch you stumble over it-"

"They know you are here already, Shadow Milk."

"And have you informed them of the nature of our relationship? Or are they still under the impression I am your miserably failing pet project?"

"...I will send out some letters."

"And talk to that simpering peacock from the Creme Republic, too. I don't like how he looks at me.”

“Be nice.” Pure Vanilla shook his shoulders gently.

“You knew what kind of cookie I was when you invited me in.” His other half laughed, and it reverberated through him.

“Alright, alright. Fair enough. I’ll send out letters, tell them we have a new ally. I... do not know how they will respond, though. It has been so long since I have seen some of them. In the past, when I have kept things from them...” His tone was pensive. "I do not want... this... to start a conflict."

Shadow Milk poked his chest. “You can handle a conflict. If you can deal with me, you can deal with a few confused heroes." Pure Vanilla nodded. "Well, that’s my dose of being pragmatic done. How do you ordinary cookies do this? I feel sick. I need a healer.”

“Do you, now?” Pure Vanilla just laughed. 

“Oh, can it.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

If Black Raisin had anything to say about his late return, with Pure Vanilla in tow, she kept it politely to herself. He was alright, wasn't he? Shadow Milk had done as she asked. She greeted her old friend warmly, and they conversed briefly while Shadow Milk attempted to sneak up on his minions. He failed.

They spent the rest of the afternoon intermittently sparring and returning to Pure Vanilla for healing, while he watched the fighting with amusement. Shadow Milk was loathe to admit anyone other than him was right about something, but Pure Vanilla had been right about learning to defend himself. He was right about it helping him, yes, but this exercise had also left him feeling more like a person. Dancing circles around Candy Apple and Black Sapphire, trading blows with Black Raisin; he felt alive. When he took breaks, they fought one another, and he jeered unhelpful advice, taking the side of whoever seemed to be winning at any given moment. When the sun began to disappear beyond the trees, he wished that he had the power to prevent the sunset for a while longer.

Pure Vanilla was leaning against the maple tree, and Shadow Milk was laying next to him, resting his head on Pure Vanilla’s legs. Everything smelled of maple syrup and vanilla and grass. A soft breeze ruffled his hair. There was a song resonating through his soul jam. Perhaps he could live with the cracked soul jam, without his magic, as a mortal cookie, if it meant spending more days this way. Black Raisin was giving Candy Apple advice, showing her how to change her stance when Black Sapphire dodged her blows.

A high and petulant voice broke their peace. He turned to see who it was approaching them. Clotted Cream, tailed by Financier Cookie, had a disapproving look on his face. “I believe you told me you had letters to respond to, Pure Vanilla Cookie.”

Pure Vanilla laughed. “I did. I got distracted. I apologize.”

“He had to save Black Raisin from me.” Shadow Milk waved. This moment was so blissfully domestic. He waited for something to shatter it, but there was no sword hanging above him. When he looked up, he only saw Pure Vanilla’s beaming face.

“If you all are sparring,” Clotted Cream said, and a hint of humor slipped into his voice, “would you mind if I joined you? I would love the opportunity to learn how the cookies of the Vanilla Kingdom fight—with no looming threat, that is.”

Cookies of the Vanilla Kingdom. Did that include him? His spire, fallen apart as it was, was not home anymore, that was certain. His minions- no, his friends, they were here. Pure Vanilla, his other half, thief of his soul jam, was here. In this castle, he had a room that was decorated to his tastes, a room in which he rarely fell asleep alone. Yes. He supposed it included him.

He stretched, intentionally hitting Pure Vanilla in the face with his hands, and got only fond laughter in response. “I suppose I have one more match left in me,” he replied. To his surprise, he felt a small pulse of magic thrumming under his dough.

Well now. This was going to be interesting.

Chapter Text

The mirror was still broken. It made surveying his reflection difficult. It was morning. Shadow Milk hovered in front of the shattered glass, frowning. His legs were crossed, his foot knocking against the edge of the chair Strawberry Crepe had made. This would not do. His hair was terribly tangled, previous attempts at styling it still partially held together, loose strands framing his face. In the mirror, he looked distorted and angry, and he could not follow the movements of his hands. This was a waste. There was no point in trying to fix his hair.

Only… Pure Vanilla seemed so pleased whenever he saw him trying. If truth was cold and unyielding, curiosity was its perilous cousin, taunting him with glittering prizes just beyond the crashing waves. Curiosity. How foolish. And yet it was curiosity that motivated him to reach for magic, pushing past the insistent ache of his soul jam. A shower of lights descended on him, and when they faded away, his hair was braided—small fishtails weaving in and out of a longer braid that swayed when he turned to examine it. The stars Pure Vanilla had commented on were so visible like this, glimmering and blinking like living things. Like the constellations woven into his curtains. The shadows in his hair had grown lighter, glowing from within like the light on the horizon.

Curiosity sang its siren’s song to him. How would Pure Vanilla react to his appearance? His soul jam hurt, but it did not burn—it was not unlike the pain of muscles as they healed, a pain he had become much acquainted with.

That had been his motivator for several days now. Testing Pure Vanilla. How would he react if Shadow Milk beat Clotted Cream in a fight, for instance? As it turned out, he would react with concern, when Shadow Milk pushed his own abilities too far and had to stop, his soul jam burning and his dough heavy. Pure Vanilla had reacted to that with concern and with scolding so fiercely protective, Shadow Milk had nearly forgotten how many eons he had been alive. He did not like provoking that side of his other half, but he rather enjoyed the hands on his shoulders and the gentle pulsing light that surrounded him.

There were other questions burning in his mind, as well. How would Pure Vanilla react if Shadow Milk kissed him again? That question, he had answered several times over. The answer, it seemed, was resounding delight. Even the snake had quieted its objections, understanding it could not stop him. Though he had his answer, something drove him to continue asking that question. Repeatedly.

Once, in the spire, he had nearly pressed that same curiosity. Had held Pure Vanilla’s hand to his lips, breath ghosting along the skin. They had separated before anything could come of it. Curiosity had been driving him then, too.

A superstition came to mind as he cleaned up the edges of the braid and raked hair forward to frame his face. Some fabrics were woven with intentional mistakes. The same superstition could be found in many variations in many different places, across artistic disciplines. Absolutely perfection is impossible, so embrace imperfection. Across the world, permutations of the same superstition, echoing like mirrors face to face. The truth was woven the same way. There was always a thread somewhere that did not hold up to scrutiny. In the past few months, he had developed a desire to hold the truth up to the light and look for the thread that did not belong.

One thread in particular stuck out to him. Pure Vanilla Cookie trusted him. He knew Pure Vanilla held affection for him, that had been evident from the very start. On that, his questions were largely answered. The trust, however, was troubling. Shadow Milk had not given him any reason to trust him. Yes, he had agreed to stay in the kingdom, but alliances were political tools, built on spoken word or written contracts. They were not inherently signs of trust. He had shown himself to deceive, repeatedly, to be resistant to any attempts to connect on a human level.

So why, then?

Perhaps it has something to do with how sweet you are to him.

Well. Being sweet to Pure Vanilla was fun.

Something fizzed behind him, and his skin crawled. He was not alone in the room. He whipped around, not about to be caught unawares, and watched a portal rip into the air halfway up to the ceiling. Pure Vanilla stepped through, not at all watching where he was going, and fell forward. In the split second where he was suspended in midair, Shadow Milk considered letting him fall into the carpet, but his new and treacherous sense of curiosity urged him forward. The chair lurched, and he caught Pure Vanilla in outstretched arms. He hardly had the strength to hold him, but he at least managed to soften the fall.

“Oh goodness.” Pure Vanilla laughed, steadying himself by leaning on his staff. “I really am dreadfully bad at those.” He brushed off his robes and rolled his shoulders. “Perhaps one of these days, I will have you teach me how to-”

Theeeere it was. Pure Vanilla’s gaze turned, and his mouth opened slightly. He covered his face with his free hand.

“Your hair,” he said.

“Do you like it?” Shadow Milk circled him. “I’m trying something new.”

“I like being able to see your face.” A hand brushed his cheek. “May I?”

Shadow Milk hit the breaks, screeching to a halt in front of his other half. Pure Vanilla’s other hand held his chin, and he was rewarded for his curiosity with a brief and gentle kiss. There was that question answered, then. Curiosity was a hungry thing, though. Like a flame, it demanded more, always more. He craned his neck and stole another kiss before backing away.

“You have something planned for today, don’t you?” Shadow Milk wagged a finger at Pure Vanilla. “I can see it in your face. You’re scheming.”

“I’m not… I do not scheme, Shadow Milk.”

“Trust me. I know scheming. I practically invented it. You are scheming.”

“I may have something planned. It is not a scheme, though. It is merely a plan.”

“Schemer.”

“Shadow Milk.” That warning, teasing tone crept in again, that sheepdog growl that sent shivers down his spine. Pure Vanilla held out his staff. “I would like to take us to the gardens. Will you help me?”

Shadow Milk made a show of sighing and groaning and looking very put-upon before hovering beside him and guiding his hand.

“You need to work with the other realm,” he explained. “You treat it like a tool, but it isn’t that simple. How boring would THAT be? You’re used to seeing magic as a rigid set of rules that can be learned and reapplied as the situation fits. Deceit doesn’t work like that.” He tapped Pure Vanilla’s elbow, and he extended his staff into the air. “You need to see a spell as a question, to which magic provides the answer.”

“And if I already know the answer that I want?”

“Then you need to ask the right questions, Nilly.” Shadow Milk smiled mischievously.

Pure Vanilla nodded and gripped the staff tighter. The sparks of a portal fizzed and popped in front of him, and he shut his eyes to focus better. Shadow Milk leaned on his shoulder, keeping his commentary to himself. Giggling quietly was enough of a distraction. The staff arced in a circle, and the portal tore open behind it, revealing the gardens beyond. Pure Vanilla let out a breath he had apparently been holding and returned his staff to his side.

“There!” He beamed. “After you!”

“You’re only sending me ahead first so you don’t fall again.”

Pure Vanilla only smiled.

The gardens were warm. The sun was bright. There were tools already laid out, gloves and pots and shovels in a line on one of the marble benches. Pure Vanilla hummed as he stepped through, and the drop from the portal to the ground was slightly less intense this go around. He did not crash or trip, so Shadow Milk was counting it as a win. Shadow Milk hovered out behind him, still cross legged on the floating chair.

“Isn’t it a bad time for planting flowers?” He came to rest in the air above Pure Vanilla.

“New bulbs, yes.” Pure Vanilla gestured to the bench. Casting his gaze aside, Shadow Milk saw potted hyacinths, blue as the sky above them. “I expect that my friends will be arriving soon. I would like the gardens to have new flowers by then.”

“You chose hyacinths?”

“You said you like them, did you not?”

He had nothing to say to that.

He is such a sycophant.

No, Pure Vanilla just… enjoyed flattering him. For reasons that were entirely beyond him, Pure Vanilla enjoyed doting on him, had said as much himself. If he preened at the attention, that was between him and the internal voice that would have glowered at him if it could.

“If I dig, will you help me plant?” Shadow Milk turned again, and Pure Vanilla was tying his hair up with gloved hands. His tongue was in his cheek, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Let me fix this travesty first.” Shadow Milk hovered over, gripped his shoulders and turned him around. Pure Vanilla chuckled, but he cooperated, dropping his hands and letting Shadow Milk fuss with his hair. He pulled a blue ribbon loose from one of his sleeves and used it to tie Pure Vanilla’s hair into something that would not immediately fall apart. The golden tresses were soft under his hands, and Pure Vanilla quietly hummed as he worked. His own hair was uncooperative and as capricious as he was, but Pure Vanilla’s hair couldn’t move on its own. When he was satisfied, he hovered away.

“There. Now you won’t get dirt in your hair.”

“How thoughtful,” Pure Vanilla replied with aching sincerity. “Thank you, bluebird.”

The flowers were waiting, and he wasted no time in setting about their replanting. They found an easy rhythm, Pure Vanilla digging into the soil and Shadow Milk helping him move the blooming flowers. It took gentleness that he was still learning to use. He did not want to damage the flowers. Sweat was dripping down his face, and his hands shook when he delivered the blossoms into Pure Vanilla’s waiting grasp. Perhaps a bit of magic couldn’t hurt…

That is a terrible idea.

Shadow Milk ignored the internal voice and flicked his wrist, summoning his staff. His soul jam pulsed. When he was no longer consumed with pain, he gently tilted the staff to the side and lifted one of the flowers into the air. Pure Vanilla quirked an eyebrow when he saw this.

“Are you in any pain? You know you should not be using magic. That trick you tried on Clotted Cream the other day might have set back your healing-” ah, so this was Pure Vanilla the healer speaking to him. Of course, it was all Pure Vanilla, he did not take on new aliases like Shadow Milk did, but he could certainly change his tone as the mood suited him.

Clotted Cream Cookie irritated him for reasons that he could not entirely identify. Something about his self-righteousness. Seeing someone with that much self-doubt carry himself with so much confidence made his skin crawl. Like looking in a fun house mirror. “He deserved it.” Shadow Milk crossed his arms, and the flower landed in Pure Vanilla’s lap, getting dirt on his clean robes.

“He did not. If your magic is an answer to a question, perhaps the pain in your soul jam is telling you something, no?”

How irritating. If his magic was trying to tell him something, it was certainly not that he needed to be kinder. The only cookie telling him that was Pure Vanilla.

And yet you do it.

For curiosity’s sake, only. Nothing more.

“Or perhaps I have a very talented doctor.” Pure Vanilla was still fixing him with a stern glare. “Okay, alright. I’m not in any pain. Geez.”

“And you will stop using your magic like this if you are?”

“I won’t hear the end of it otherwise,” he grumbled. Mercifully, Pure Vanilla did not dignify that with a response.

They settled into a new routine now, Shadow Milk handing him flowers by sending them drifting over, and Pure Vanilla burying them in the earth. The routine of it felt right, sturdy and familiar. A repetitive motion that he could get lost in. With his limited vision, he was relying on the movements, and it was strangely comforting not to need his eyes to work. It allowed his mind to drift peacefully into nothing, thoughts that came and went. Meditative. He had never understood the concept when Mystic Flour Cookie explained it to him, had actively rebuked her explanations with scorn and derision. Now, he could kind of see the appeal. They did not speak, only pausing to make the occasional comment about the process, or to ask for tools when needed. Pure Vanilla was methodical, measuring the holes exactly and burying the flowers with tenderness. Shadow Milk found himself envying the soil. Pure Vanilla’s touch was soft, and though their conversations were brief, he spoke to the flowers as he planted them, murmuring gentle assurances and swearing to watch them grow. The smell of hyacinths and petrichor surrounded them. They were both covered in dirt, both hot from the sun and the work, and Shadow Milk was beginning to grow hungry.

Curse this mortal form and its mortal needs. It was so bothersome enduring the minutiae of existing in a mortal body, to say nothing of the weakness it presented. He had no control over the growling of his stomach, could not hide it. Pure Vanilla tamped down the earth around one of the flowers and turned to smile at him.

“Lunch, then?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Over cool drinks, the last of Espresso Cookie’s floral iced coffees, Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla made idle chatter. Shadow Milk had a jelly burger in hand, and the poppy seed bun was flaking crumbs onto his hands as he spoke with animated movements. He was recounting a story, a time Black Sapphire Cookie had attempted to sneak out of the spire to see someone or other, and had gotten hopelessly lost. Pure Vanilla was laughing, and his eyes were so bright. They were surrounded by curious bluebirds that had settled on the arbor over them. As he concluded his story, a bird fluttered down and landed on Pure Vanilla’s shoulder, and he murmured a soft greeting, lifting a hand to pat the top of the bird’s head. His gentleness for everything, a trait that Shadow Milk always found laughable, he now found strangely admirable. To find something worth loving in absolutely every living thing, that was a skill honed over the years.

He was staring. The bird had fluttered away to rejoin her sisters in the arbor, and Pure Vanilla was smiling at him now. “You are my favorite bluebird,” Pure Vanilla flattered.

Shadow Milk coughed and took a very large bite of his jelly burger so as to avoid the need to formulate a response. Pure Vanilla just laughed at him. Foolish cookie. So flattering. So doting. No excuse Pure Vanilla could contrive for this behavior would excuse it, it was foolish to flatter he who was ostensibly his enemy. But of course, he would. He always would.

“May I ask a question?” Pure Vanilla leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, watching Shadow Milk curiously.

Shadow Milk took the last bite of his burger and nodded.

“Why hyacinths? Do they carry any particular meaning for you?”

“I always thought the story of Hyacinth Cookie was tragic,” he replied. “I’m sure you’re familiar, no? A cookie crumbled by his lover’s hand, no healing or magic that can pierce the veil of death? Flowers blooming from his grave? Living forever as a perennial? The truth is harsh, Nilly. Don’t you see?”

“Ah,” Pure Vanilla replied, and for a moment Shadow Milk expected him to simply voice his disappointment and move on. “I believe blue hyacinths also represent sincerity, no? Or perhaps loyalty?” Of course not. To assume he would leave it at that was an underestimation of his petulance.

“If you think I was implying something-”

“You often do.” Pure Vanilla took a long, slow sip of his drink. Shadow Milk watched his lips with interest. “You often speak in riddles, particularly when you do not want me to understand what you’re really saying to me.”

Does he have any tact?

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes. “Maybe I just like them because they’re blue. Not everything has a hidden meaning. Sometimes the flowers are just blue.”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” Pure Vanilla tapped his fingers on the table. “But then, examining the deeper meaning can be uniquely rewarding, regardless of intent.” A smile was spreading across his face.

“There’s no point, though.” Shadow Milk scoffed.

“Isn’t there?” The glass clinked against Pure Vanilla’s plate as he set it down on the table again. “Even if you meant nothing by it, I can remark on the irony of your choice. A symbol of constancy and sincerity is hardly befitting the Beast of Deceit.”

“Yes-”

“But I find that it is rather fitting for you.”

“I am hardly constant.”

“Perennial flowers come and go,” Pure Vanilla replied. “You would not think of something that wilts and withers as constant, but their roots are. The flowers return, season after season, because their roots remain when their petals do not.”

“I do not have roots here, Nilly. Nor anywhere. If you think you can pin me down that easily, you have sorely misunderstood me.”

“And that would be all the better for you, I suppose? Shadow Milk, why are you so desperate to be misunderstood?” Something caught his eye, and Shadow Milk was rescued from any more pressing questions.

Pure Vanilla’s gaze drifted to the side, and he paused in his rumination to examine the back of his chair. Impossibly gentle, he scooped up something small and held it in his hands. Shadow Milk leaned forward to see what bird or moth or insect he had rescued.

It was a spider. Small, fragile, and harmless. He recognized the species, Neoscona Crucifera. An orb weaver, a master of construction. They built beautiful webs. On early mornings, he saw their homes scattered about the palace grounds, sparkling with dew. There was a black and white smiling face on the underside its abdomen. How odd, an arachnid mimicking the faces of cookies. Perhaps it was mere pareidolia. Pure Vanilla cradled it with all the gentleness he granted his bluebirds. The cursed thing was examining the lines in Pure Vanilla’s palms with delicate movements of its legs. Pure Vanilla was gently cooing unintelligible assurances to it as he reached out and guided it to the vines climbing the arbor.

“That will be a good place for your webs, my friend,” he murmured. Shadow Milk watched him with wide eyes. Heat was rising to his face. It was ridiculous, watching Pure Vanilla regard even a spider with so much tenderness. What a strange sort of cookie he was.

Pure Vanilla started to speak again, to resume their discussion, but a loud voice cut him off; somewhere in the distance, someone was hollering loud enough to raise the dead. They shared a look. Only one cookie had a voice that uproarious. Shadow Milk stood from the table and reached out for the hovering chair. Rather than taking a seat, he leapt up to stand on it, which raised Pure Vanilla’s eyebrows.

His concern only seemed to grow when Shadow Milk hovered up into the air to see over the garden walls. At the front door, flanked by friends and looking disgustingly radiant, Hollyberry Cookie was demanding an audience. Shadow Milk jumped up and waved his arms, ignoring Pure Vanilla’s calls for him to please get down from there.

“We’re in the garden, darling!” He continued to wave until Hollyberry turned, saw him, and waved back. She said something to her companions and raced to the garden gate to meet him. By this point, Pure Vanilla had taken to his feet and was pacing, arms outstretched, waiting for Shadow Milk to fall.

Well, far be it from him to leave an audience waiting. If he slipped from the edge of the chair, who could be blamed, really? If he took a swan dive towards the earth, and landed in Pure Vanilla’s arms right as Hollyberry rounded the corner towards their table, what would happen?

It was all in the interest of curiosity, of course. It was only curiosity that led him to kick the chair away and fall backwards. Pure Vanilla was not the strongest cookie in the world, but neither was Shadow Milk particularly difficult to carry, and his descent was halted abruptly by hands wrapping around him.

“You did that on purpose.” Pure Vanilla was glowering down at him with absolutely no real anger behind it. His face was flushed.

“Of course not, sweetness. The wind blew me away. I’m like a sugar sculpture, I’m very vulnerable to the elements.” He snaked his arms around Pure Vanilla’s neck and nuzzled into his chest. The soul jam beside him was humming.

Right on cue, Hollyberry emerged from the gates. He could not have planned it better if he had scripted it in advance. In order to see her, he had to turn away from Pure Vanilla, but it was entirely worth it for her expression. Her face was the perfect picture of surprise, and she halted in place, whatever greeting she had prepared dying out. Pure Vanilla’s face grew quite red, and Shadow Milk snickered. The hands around him squeezed in warning, and then he was unceremoniously dumped from Pure Vanilla’s arms.

The golden chair swept under him just before he touched the ground, lifting him up to eye level.

“Well, this was certainly not what I expected to see when I arrived!” Hollyberry recovered quickly. “It is good to see you, my friend.” She pulled Pure Vanilla into a tight bear hug that lasted quite a while. “I am glad to see you’re eating well,” she added, gesturing to the table.

“Yes, well.” Pure Vanilla cleared his throat. “I do not wish to face the wrath of a beast if I do not.”

At that, her incredulity grew. “Shadow Milk Cookie.” She turned, and he rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, bearing a Cheshire smile. “It is… my pleasure to see you again.”

“Oh, I’m certain,” he crooned. Pure Vanilla was giving them both a curious glance. “And how is dear Princess Cookie? Recovering well, I hope?”

“Once she recovered from the fright of having a beast appear in the castle, she returned to her normal cheerful self,” Hollyberry replied. “I am afraid you will have to try much harder than that to shake her.”

“This is reconnaissance for next time, you know. You do understand you’re feeding me information I can use against you?”

“Oh, just come here before I change my mind, you old beast.” Hollyberry extended her arms, and Shadow Milk stepped off the chair momentarily to accept the embrace. She was not gentle like Pure Vanilla; he was certain she would have crumbled him with a bit more of a strength.

Is this an embrace or a threat?

When she released him, he turned to see the gobsmacked look on Pure Vanilla’s face, and he could not help himself from laughing. Pure Vanilla’s mouth was open, his eyes wide, one hand resting on his chest clutching invisible pearls.

“I have a history you don’t even know about,” Shadow Milk whispered to his other half. “I’m everywhere.”

“He appeared in my castle in the middle of the night and scared my granddaughter,” Hollyberry corrected. “And he is incredibly lucky I was feeling generous, or he would have returned to you in pieces.”

Pure Vanilla looked back and forth between them for a few moments, his surprise giving way for confusion. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, as he always did when he was thinking. Finally, it hit him.

“Oh my goodness. No, surely not.” He paced back and forth, before finally speaking again, raising his voice with the most distress and sheer bewilderment Shadow Milk had heard from him since the spire. “That’s where you went when you left?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Hollyberry scoffed. “Taking advantage of my hospitality, and you didn’t have the grace to tell your other half where you went? You have no manners, my friend.” She punched his shoulder with only a pinch of her strength, and he winced.

Shadow Milk changed the subject. “Speaking of a notable lack of manners, how is your… fire-inclined friend?”

“They will be joining us in a day or two,” she began, “and if you speak ill of them again, they will find you as a pile of crumbs.”

Pure Vanilla cut in again. “Pitaya Dragon Cookie will be joining us?”

“Of course!” She said it so naturally. “I have requested their presence.”

“Ah.” Pure Vanilla nodded. “I suppose it will be good to have all hands on deck, as it were. Something tells me certain characters will not be pleased if word catches on the wrong wind that I am still harboring Shadow Milk Cookie.”

“It’s just my lovable nature,” Shadow Milk snorted, “everyone wants me on their team.”

Hollyberry turned on him. “And whose team are you on?”

I’m with her. Whose side are you on?

“Whoever is the sweetest to me. Right now, your friend here is competing for that prize.”

Pure Vanilla took on a warning tone. “Shadow Milk.”

It was too fun, getting a rise out of him. It was more fun when it seemed not to bring him genuine distress. Of course, it had felt fun back then, too, hadn’t it? Provoking him, pushing him, seeing how mean he could get? Had he not savored the looks of fear, the quickened pulse, the constricted pupils? It was fun now, too, but now, Pure Vanilla would keep returning to him. Now, he had a soft place to land. Now, he did not need to inspire fear for Pure Vanilla’s pulse to quicken when he drew close. He hovered lower and rested his arm on Pure Vanilla’s shoulders. 

Shadow Milk continued speaking. “At least for the time being, I’m keeping an eye on this one. I have to make sure no one else steals my enemy from me.”

That seemed to sate them both. Hollyberry relaxed, some of the tension leaving her, and she gave Pure Vanilla a warm smile. Of the ancients, he supposed she was the most likely to sympathize with Pure Vanilla, in this case. She was well familiar with the whims of meddlesome antagonists.

“In that case,” she said, “my companions and I will retire to our rooms to unpack. Thank you for hosting us, Pure Vanilla.”

What had Pure Vanilla told her? He realized he had once again left the description of his state up to a cookie who was flattering to a fault, who had forgiven every one of his missteps, who was so painfully earnest. How had he explained this?

“I will see you later,” Pure Vanilla replied. “I should retire soon as well. If I had known you were arriving so soon, I would not have worn these clothes!” They shared a laugh at his state, covered in earth and flowers.

There were flower petals in Pure Vanilla’s hair, and when he moved, they came loose and fluttered down around him. Shadow Milk was staring again, watching them as they fell. Sky blue petals. Following some strange curiosity, he plucked one of the hyacinth petals from the air and popped it in his mouth. The flowers were not edible, but he was not an ordinary cookie. It melted on his tongue, bitter and sweet. The Fount could have named every part of this flower down to the cell, but to him, it was a piece of the garden where he had whiled away the morning, and that was far more interesting.

“Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla waved a hand in front of his eyes. “I am going to go fetch some clean clothes. Will I see you in the Solarium of Unity once I am better dressed?”

“If I’m feeling generous, maybe.”

“Are you feeling generous?”

Shadow Milk hovered closer and dragged his eyes down Pure Vanilla’s face. In a much more nettlesome voice than Pure Vanilla ever put on, he said, “may I?”

Pure Vanilla smiled. “You may.”

Shadow Milk stole a kiss, and Pure Vanilla’s hands came to rest around his waist. As greatly as he would have liked to stay here, wrapped in the scent of hyacinths and vanilla, he had something to take care of.

“I’ll be there. I couldn’t deprive your friends of my wonderfully charming presence.”

“Mm.” Pure Vanilla kissed him one more time, and then released him. “I will see you later, then.” He held out his staff and summoned another portal, and Shadow Milk nodded at his improvement. There was less doubt in it, this time. They were both learning things, it seemed.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The mirror resisted repair. He supposed it reflected him in more ways than one. His magic could be used to fix things, had been in the past, but now, as fickle as it was, he could not draw the answers he wanted from it. When he attempted to fix the mirror, he ran up against a wall, and his soul jam burned. This was possible, he knew it was possible, but his magic was completely resistant to it. Pure Vanilla would know how to fix it, restoration magic was in his wheelhouse, but asking for help was the last thing he ever wanted to do. The shattered glass was a reminder of one of his worse moments. Memory lane was better walked alone. It did not demand company.

He held out his staff and channeled all of his focus towards the mirror. Light bloomed outwards, spreading over the surface, and he had to look away to avoid it blinding him. When he cracked his eyes open, his distorted reflection greeted him. Another attempt failed, and the burning in his soul jam was becoming insistent. If he pushed it any further, he would worsen his injury.

When he had shattered the mirror, that had not mattered to him. The glass under his knuckles had brought a painful, angry clarity with it. Now, his mind was clear, and the pain was fogging up the glass.

It still functions as a mirror. Why fix it at all?

Because it was broken, and because he had to look at it every time he walked in the room. Because sometimes in the night, he woke and saw distorted reflections in the darkness. Because he could not properly style his hair when he could not see.

What are you trying to prove​?

Shadow Milk grimaced. He had nothing to prove, he supposed, but it was the principle of the thing. If he could shatter the mirror, surely he could fix it. He held out his staff again.

A knock at the door silenced his thoughts. He did not answer. Perhaps if he stayed completely still and silent, he would be left alone. No such luck. The door creaked open, and Pure Vanilla’s voice lilted around him.

“Shadow Milk? I was on my way to the Solarium, but I did not see you, so I thought- oh goodness.” Rapid footsteps approached him, and he felt a shiver as Pure Vanilla’s hands rested in the air just above his shoulders. Without looking, he could sense the presence beside him. The dance lessons were taking, it seemed. “You’re shaking. What have you been doing?”

Shadow Milk rolled his shoulders back and formed a mask of indifference. “Oh, just the usual. Dawdling. Smelling the roses. Killing time. Dilly-dallying, even.”

“Please.” He turned enough to see out of his periphery, and Pure Vanilla’s expression was stern. “I can see that you have been using your magic. You need to be gentle with yourself.”

“Why would I, when you’re so gentle with me already?” He leaned back, and his back rested against Pure Vanilla’s chest. As soon as they made contact, magic rolled over him, easing the pain in his dough.

“What were you attempting to do?” Hands wrapped around his chest from behind, and Pure Vanilla pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“My mirror is still broken, and your staff haven’t bothered to provide me with a new one.”

“You haven’t asked,” Pure Vanilla muttered into his cape. “Would you like a new mirror, Shadow Milk?”

“I would like this one to function properly.” He scoffed. “Unfortunately, I don’t think your restoration magic is too simpatico with my destructive tendencies. You really should do something about that.”

Pure Vanilla laughed, and the breath on his shoulder made him jolt. “Would you like my help, then? Call it an exercise in curiosity.”

You don’t need his help. This doesn’t need fixing.

“You know what?” He was being pandered to, Pure Vanilla was appealing to exactly the sense that so often motivated his actions, but he was not entirely immune to pandering. His sense of curiosity was greater than his sense of pride by now. “Sure. Give me a lesson, professor.”

“Please do not call me professor while I am embracing you like this,” Pure Vanilla laughed.

“Heard loud and clear, teach.”

“That’s even worse.” Pure Vanilla sighed. “Alright. As you explained to me once, your magic functions like an answer to a question. If you want the right answer, you must ask the right question.” A hand found his wrist, and he extended his arm with the staff in hand. “Restoration magic is not so fickle. It does not deal in ambiguity.” The grip on his arm was firm. “You needn’t ask questions or attempt to trick the laws of nature. Shadow Milk, I want you to think of a pleasant memory, something real that brings you joy, and I want you to channel that.”

How infantile.

Shadow Milk nodded. He did not trawl his memories. It was not for lack of moments to draw from—there were many moments in his memory that had brought him joy. Many of them were moments he was no longer proud of.

The curl of his lips as Pure Vanilla wept in the spire.

White Lily Cookie’s anguish in the Faerie Kingdom.

The first lie he ever told.

None of them suited this purpose, so he dismissed them.

In fact, he did not seek out a memory at all. Disobeying instructions, he instead focused on this moment, right now, committing all of it to memory. The hand around his. Pure Vanilla’s soul jam, humming where it was leaving an indent on his shoulder. A steadying hand on his waist, breath ruffling his hair, the afternoon light weaving in between the curtains. All of it was recorded in his memory. He shut his eyes, and warm light surrounded him. A chill ran down his spine. His soul jam was humming, and there was a whistling in his ears. The darkness behind his eyes came alive with swirling lights and patterns, strange fractals and kaleidoscope patterns made of colors that did not exist.

“You know, fixing it for me doesn’t exactly count as helping me, sweetness,” he whispered.

“I am not doing anything,” Pure Vanilla murmured.

“What?”

Shadow Milk slowly opened his eyes, and the light ebbed away, but the warmth remained. His hands were shaking. His soul jam was singing. His limbs ached. Pure Vanilla’s grip on his wrist was firm, and it might have been the only thing keeping him standing up straight, but there was no magic emanating from his other half.

The mirror stood before him, still glimmering from the spell he had cast. It reflected him, in his entirety, but it was not the same as it had been before it shattered. The edges of the mirror resembled the rest of the decor, now, spiraling and blue. Squinting, he could still make out the lines where it had been cracked, could still see the individual pieces of glass. The spaces in between were gilded now, glittering in the light. It was not restored to its original state. He had made something new of it. Giddy laughter bubbled up inside of him.

“You did that,” Pure Vanilla said, and his arms wrapped around Shadow Milk in a tight embrace. “I am so proud of you.” That came out as a whisper, as though Pure Vanilla was afraid of scaring him off. He kissed Shadow Milk’s cheek.

You don’t need his pride.

Perhaps not. There was an itch under his dough, a persistent buzzing that urged him to flee. But... he found that he enjoyed the attention. If he soaked up the praise for a few minutes, no one would miss him that much. Pain was inflaming his dough, but his soul jam was still singing. After a moment, Pure Vanilla’s magic washed over him, easing the pain. He felt light, the floor beneath him swaying.

“Is your friend waiting for us?” Shadow Milk craned his head back enough to rest it on Pure Vanilla’s shoulder.

“Friends,” Pure Vanilla corrected. “I believe Dark Cacao Cookie has just arrived.”

Chapter Text

Before they reached the Solarium, Shadow Milk’s senses were assaulted by the cacophony of noise from within. In the hallway, it had been quiet, and they had not made conversation. Shadow Milk was content with the silence, though the anxiety that radiated off of his other half somewhat spoiled the mood. Now, though, the noise was impossible to ignore. Raised voices echoed through the halls. There was a sound of a spell being cast, and the twang of a bow string as it released. There were voices he recognized and voices he did not. Pure Vanilla’s hand was in his as they walked, and at the sounds, his grip tightened. Shadow Milk winced. For a gentle healer, his grip was vice-like. Shadow Milk turned to see him properly and found that Pure Vanilla bore an uncomfortable grimace, brows knit together and eyes fearful. It was a familiar expression, one he had drawn out on many occasions.

“Cheer up, sunflower.” Shadow Milk nudged his shoulder. Pure Vanilla startled. Somehow, despite Shadow Milk’s hand in his, he had apparently forgotten that he was not alone. “They could be shouting for many reasons. You don’t have to look so dour.”

Like the Truthless Recluse.

“I can think of relatively few reasons my friends would be shouting at one another like this.” Pure Vanilla sighed.

“Perhaps Hollyberry Cookie has started a drinking contest.”

“And the sounds of spells being cast?”

Shadow Milk had no answer for that, so he just brushed his shoulder against Pure Vanilla’s again. His other half took a deep breath. The grip on his hand grew even tighter.

“I do not want to stop a fight between my dearest friends. Not again.” Shadow Milk gave his hand a squeeze in return. Three pulses. Pure Vanilla’s expression softened. It occurred to him that he ought to say more, to perhaps try and quiet Pure Vanilla’s anxieties or reassure him, but that did not come easily to him, and by the time it had formed in his mind as a plan, it was too late. Pure Vanilla stopped, the tapping of his staff against the marble floor suddenly ceasing. They had reached the doors.

It was Shadow Milk who opened the tall doors and let them in, desperate to feel like he was doing something. All eyes in the room turned to face them. There were many cookies here.

The source of the argument was immediately clear. Dark Cacao’s agents had cornered Candy Apple and Black Sapphire, both of whom were pleading their innocence to an unimpressed crowd. There was an arrow pointed at Black Sapphire’s throat. A wolf-like cookie was holding Candy Apple up by the back of her dress while she flailed and cursed. Smoke curled up from the floor where one of them had fired a spell. Both had their hands raised, and both were sneering in what must have resembled anger, but Shadow Milk could recognize when they were afraid. He could almost feel it. There was a crow settled on the windowsill, but Black Raisin—perhaps the only other cookie who might defend his friends—was nowhere to be found. Anger bubbled in his jam.

“My friends,” Pure Vanilla cried, rushing into the room, “what is the meaning of all of this?”

“Pure Vanilla Cookie.” Dark Cacao turned. He was leaning his weight on his sword. Shadow Milk examined it, recognizing and not-recognizing the soul jam that was embedded within. Mystic Flour… she had never seen quite eye-to-eye with his antics. Even at the best of times. How he missed her.

“Please, release my staff,” Pure Vanilla demanded.

“Your… staff?” The king’s brow furrowed. For a moment, he looked at the sunflower staff that remained at Pure Vanilla’s side. Pure Vanilla gestured, and Dark Cacao’s eyes widened. “These agents of the beast?”

“My planning committee, yes.” Pure Vanilla stepped in, taking a position in front of them, and Dark Cacao’s suspicion only seemed to grow. Nausea rolled over Shadow Milk, temporarily freezing him in place. “They do their jobs well. I would be quite sad to have to replace their positions.”

Candy Apple darted forward, wriggling free of the wolf-like cookie, and she hurried to Pure Vanilla’s side. Shadow Milk chuckled. How times had changed. His follower, darting to the side of his enemy and clinging to his arm. Her captor raced to catch her, but halted when Dark Cacao held up a hand.

“Crunchy Chip Cookie, be at ease,” he commanded. The so-named Crunchy Chip Cookie nodded once and returned to his king’s side. The archer, with her focused expression, waited for instructions. “You as well, Caramel Arrow Cookie.” She nodded and retreated into the back of the room. Both of them were incredibly dedicated, it was clear from the way they hung onto his every word. Caramel Arrow Cookie was focused, but Crunchy Chip seemed distractable. Already, his gaze was drifting this way and that. Shadow Milk examined his new acquaintances carefully.

A proud voice rang from the back of the room. “It has been some time since we spoke, my friend. To think you have become a sympathizer to the beasts after all this time?”

Shadow Milk scanned the room for the cookie who had spoken. It was certainly not one of Dark Cacao’s agents, they were far too stoic. Nor was it one of Hollyberry’s, which he might have recognized. This was someone he had not met. A glint of reflected sunlight caught his attention. There, at the back of the room, perched in her chair more than sitting in it. A cookie that radiated light. This must be Burning Spice Cookie’s other half. Golden Cheese Cookie, whom he knew relatively little about. Pure Vanilla, however, was delighted. He actually clapped his hands together in joy.

“Golden Cheese Cookie! You made it!” He gave her a warm smile.

“And just in time, apparently. You’ve been consorting with beasts and their servants? When you told us you had a new ally to introduce us to, I thought… surely not. Surely not the beast you have been keeping prisoner. Now I see I misjudged.”

Keeping prisoner?

Just what had Pure Vanilla told them when he first arrived? Anger was brewing in his chest. They were all staring at him like he was an object, not a person. His dough itched.

“More than consorting,” a voice corrected from beside her. A cookie wearing a birdlike cowl and a scrutinizing expression rose to his feet. “I have been listening to the conversations of the staff, your radiance.” In a low, conspiratorial voice, he added, “they sleep in the same room, so they say.”

“Really? Is what Smoked Cheese Cookie says true?” Golden Cheese raised her eyebrows.

“That is-” Pure Vanilla stuttered. Shadow Milk felt flustered, his heart fluttering in his chest. Heat rose to his face. “I hardly see how that is relevant.”

Clamoring voices again. In the chaos, he could not process any words clearly, but the idea was clear. Outrage that Pure Vanilla had allowed a snake in his bed. Insults hurled at him. The insults he could brush off like water, but their doubt in Pure Vanilla’s judgment angered him. Shadow Milk did not think he liked these cookies. So someone from the staff had been spreading gossip about him. When he found out who, they would regret that choice. He supposed that was to be expected, but it did not mean he had to be pleased about it. He was Pure Vanilla’s guest, what they did was their business and no one else’s. Was he not a sapient being capable of making his own choices? He was not some creature that had drifted in an open window in the night. He had wants. One of these was Pure Vanilla’s presence as he slept. This was a want Pure Vanilla had been happy to oblige.

“He is my guest,” Pure Vanilla finally said. “Not my prisoner.” He did not directly address the accusation.

The room exploded into questions and voices again. He heard an arrow notch into place, and had to whip to the side to see where Caramel Arrow was waiting. In the chaos, Black Sapphire and Candy Apple managed to slip away from the attention that had been on them, joining Shadow Milk at his side. Each of them had weapons drawn, ready to defend him. Crunchy Chip was pivoting and starting to lunge, and he was only stopped by a large gauntlet wrapping around his chest and pulling him back—Wildberry Cookie? Defending Shadow Milk?

Well now. That is interesting.

His internal compass had no advice for him this time. Just commentary.

There came a whistling sound, a sudden ringing, and he instinctively turned to the side as an arrow flew past him, just grazing his hair and pinning it to the wall behind him. He was almost sideways in the air, clinging to his chair.

“Enough!” Pure Vanilla’s voice rang out, clear as bells, and he took his place in front of Shadow Milk and helped him right himself. “Please. I understand your trepidation, but allow me to defend myself.”

“What is there to defend?” Golden Cheese hovered into the air. Her wings beat the air in the room into a churning wind. “You have been harboring a beast, and now he has fooled you into believing he is domesticated.” There was a spear in her hands, which she wielded with incredibly dexterity, as though it weighed nothing.

“He is- I have not been fooled,” Pure Vanilla argued. “I apologize if the information I gave you was not sufficient to explain the situation.”

Frustration boiled in Shadow Milk’s chest. Their lack of trust in Pure Vanilla was wounding. After all the time they had spent together-

These are not your feelings.

No. They were not. He was frustrated, and insulted, yes, but the hurt that churned inside of him was not his. Was this some new trick of his soul jam? Forcing him to imagine how his other half was feeling? It was a cruel trick. New threads pulling him in.

Dark Cacao stepped towards him. “I believe your brief report was enough. It is merely different to actually see him and understand the depths of his control.” His eyes were soft. Shadow Milk had not expected such a gentle gaze from the hero of resolution, but they were so gentle. Pure Vanilla seemed to draw that sort of gentleness from the cookies he spoke to.

Pure Vanilla gave him a sad look. “There is no control here, my old friend.”

“They are worried for you,” Hollyberry Cookie said, and Shadow Milk felt his heart drop. Hollyberry? He thought she understood him, or at least respected him, but now she was taking their side? Tremors wracked his hands. Damn it all, if they were going to decide his fate like this, he was going to go out fighting.

Someone cleared a throat.

Shadow Milk would recognize that annoying voice anywhere.

Clotted Cream Cookie stepped to the front of the room. He had to weave through the assembled cookies and step over still burning scorch marks on the floor. “Excuse me,” he said. “Far be it from me to insert myself in the business of the ancient cookies, but it seems this will come to blows, and I believe civility is apropos for a place such as this.”

Hollyberry and Dark Cacao were both fixing him with expressions that betrayed a history. Golden Cheese was staring at him with the sort of derision usually reserved for a fly on one’s food.

“Allow me to make a suggestion.” Clotted Cream held a hand over his heart.

Golden Cheese laughed. “We’re going to take suggestions from him​?”

“I question this as well,” Dark Cacao said. “In the past, his choices have put our soul jams at risk.”

“I am curious,” Hollyberry says. “I say we at least hear his suggestion. If it does not agree with us, we can find another solution to our concerns.” Pure Vanilla gave her a very grateful smile. Shadow Milk still felt static under his dough. They were debating what to do with him, and he was just standing there in shock. If he had full access to his powers, there would be no debate here.

That is not entirely true.

No. Perhaps not. Pure Vanilla could hold him back, if he truly wanted to. Perhaps it was better to be here by choice than to be suspended by spiderwebs to the ceiling. At least this way he had freedom of movement.

“Very well,” Pure Vanilla said. “What is your suggestion, Clotted Cream Cookie?”

“Let us hold a trial.”

At that, Shadow Milk’s friends clamored to defend him. The attendants of the ancients made their cases as well, all shouting their disapproval. The cacophony was all consuming. He could not focus his vision while he was trying to sift through the noise.

“An informal one,” Clotted Cream corrected. “Pure Vanilla says he has a new ally. I say we hear him out. Give every soul jam wielder an opportunity to voice their dissent or approval. If, after all of this, you still believe the beast to be a threat, then we will decide how to proceed from there. And if not, perhaps we can have a sensible discussion about how best to utilize this new power. Is that agreeable to everyone?”

None of them seemed particularly pleased, but Clotted Cream’s persuasive and controlling nature was such that it was hard to disagree once he had dominated the conversation thus. What he lacked in sheer physical power, he made up for in his ability to control a room and command attention. Even Shadow Milk could not deny the sense in his suggestion, humiliating as it was.

Pure Vanilla squeezed his shoulder. “Are you alright with that?”

It is unbecoming.

Yes, this was rather beneath him. But it was also a chance to put on a show, and perhaps the entertainment would make it worthwhile. Curiosity. Oh, the things his curiosity drove him to do. What a cruel driving force it was.

“It’s only a game, isn’t it?” He smiled, and only Pure Vanilla could have seen the anger and fear below the surface. “I say we play it.”

“You are good at games.” The hand on his shoulder lifted, and Pure Vanilla gave him a nearly imperceptible nod. A wish of luck.

Pure Vanilla turned to Clotted Cream and nodded. “We accept these conditions.”

“Very well.” The consul nodded. “Is there any dissent from the other ancients?”

None. They all seemed far too mollified by the sudden takeover of the conversation.

And then…

“Wait.” Golden Cheese Cookie spoke. “We are not all present.” There was a curl to her lip. A kind of anger Shadow Milk recognized, for how often he had seen it in himself. “Where is White Lily Cookie?” There was a history in the way she said the name. She savored it and spat it at the same time. Hundreds of years of history, all in a name. Shadow Milk felt something terrible grip his heart.

“She will be waiting in the greenhouse,” Pure Vanilla replied.

Shadow Milk turned abruptly, and the chair whirred beneath him. “She’s here?”

Pure Vanilla had not told him that. Pure Vanilla had not told him she would be here. Had he been trying to ensure they did not see each other? Why on earth had he kept that to himself?

“She believed her presence may cause undue conflict.” Aching sadness hung on every word. “If there is any doubt on her stance, you may seek her out when our trial is through.” He was meeting Shadow Milk’s eyes. That offer included him. Pure Vanilla had to be the strangest cookie he had ever met.

Golden Cheese’s lips were pulled into a deep frown, but she did not push it. Behind the arrogant facade and the glimmering gold, it was clear there were depths to her emotions that he could not begin to unravel. There was not time in the world to decipher her feelings in that moment.

“Thank you all,” Pure Vanilla continued. “I suppose if this is a trial, we ought to have someone preside over it.”

“I volunteer the consul,” Hollyberry said. “He seems to know how this should go. It was his idea, let’s see him manage it.”

Shadow Milk wondered if she was testing him. She was smiling, and there was a twinkle in her eyes.

“Very well,” Clotted Cream replied, adjusting his coat nervously. “I would be happy to preside. I suppose that makes the Beast of Deceit our defendant.”

“And I will plead his case,” Pure Vanilla added. Shadow Milk was beginning to feel like a thing on display again. No one had bothered to ask what he thought.

“Right, then,” another voice said. Ever the showman, Black Sapphire stepped forward and spun his microphone in the air. Static electricity arced through the air, and the inhabitants of the room frantically stepped back. The solarium was transformed, the tables rearranged and a judge’s bench summoned at the front of the room. Everyone pressed their backs to the walls to avoid the movement. When the dust settled and everyone had found their new seats, Clotted Cream took his place at the judge’s bench.

“Is all of this necessary?” Dark Cacao asked. “All of this…” he gestured to the new state of the room.

“I find that a good set helps me get in character,” Black Sapphire replied.

“We are not getting in character. We are deciding on a fate for this beast. This is not a game.”

“Please!” Clotted Cream Cookie smacked his gavel down, looking only slightly like he was having fun with his new position. “I would like to call forth the first ancient to make their case.”

The room fell quiet again. It was the heavy sort of silence that brought uncertainty and anxiety. The sort of silence Shadow Milk always felt inclined to fill with noise. He bit his tongue until he tasted jam.

Clotted Cream continued. “Hollyberry Cookie. Please step forward.”

“Me? Goodness, alright.” Hollyberry stood and took her place at the new podium. She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, drumming her fingers on the wood. “This beast is incredibly powerful. I have seen firsthand his ability to teleport impossible distances with the use of his… oh, what does he call it now…” she snapped a few times to jog her memory. “The other realm. I have seen firsthand how shadows answer to his call and drape themselves around him. No doubt, he is a frightening enemy.” Shadow Milk felt a low growl begging to leave him. He flexed his hands.

“Then again,” Hollyberry continued, “he also has made no attempt to actually harm me, even when I have given him the opportunity.” She was pacing as she spoke, and it was making Shadow Milk antsy. The sound of her steel shoes against the floor grated on him. The room was hanging on her words.

Finally, she nodded to herself. “Truthfully? I believe Pure Vanilla Cookie when he says that the Beast is our ally.”

“What?” Dark Cacao was raising his sword again, ready for a fight, but Caramel Arrow said something to him, and he lowered it with a sigh. How bold of her, to speak back to such an imposing leader. Whatever they had gone through in Beast Yeast, it was clear that he trusted the judgment of his agents.

Hollyberry replied. “When Pure Vanilla said the beast was here, and that he was monitoring him, I came to visit. I had a question I believed he could answer, and I was curious as to whether he would be truthful.”

She did not call you a prisoner.

“And was he?” Clotted Cream asked.

“He was. Perhaps he was not the friendliest to me, but he answered my questions, and that means a great deal to me.”

“I believe we are owed a bit more information that ‘he answered a question for me,’” Smoked Cheese Cookie scoffed. “Any cookie can answer a question.”

“He translated something in dragontongue for me, if you must know,” Hollyberry replied, blushing a dark scarlet. “Beyond that, it is not my story to tell. All I can speak to is his honesty. He could have given me information that would have embarrassed me in front of a friend, but he spoke true.”

It had not been for such noble reasons, Shadow Milk thought. Really, he had told her the truth because he wanted to know what would happen. Evidently, he had helped her in the long run. Hollyberry had said that Pitaya Dragon Cookie would be joining them, after all.

Oh joy. More cookies.

“So he told you something true,” Smoked Cheese cut in again. “That doesn’t mean he is an ally. A liar may still tell the truth if it serves him. A sycophant is not an ally.” Shadow Milk wondered if he was speaking from experience.

“Oh, there is more.” Hollyberry leaned on the podium and made eye contact with Shadow Milk. Almost imperceptibly, she raised an eyebrow at him. No. Absolutely not. Their conversations from when he visited her were private. He would not have them aired out to the world. A small shake of the head, and she nodded. “He came to visit my kingdom not long after that conversation, and was nothing short of the perfect guest. He alarmed my family when he first arrived, but Wildberry Cookie can attest that he caused no trouble for us.”

The aforementioned cookie gave a terse nod. Crunchy Chip Cookie was still beside him, fixing to pounce if things turned sour.

“I believe that concludes my statement,” Hollyberry said.

“Thank you, my friend,” Pure Vanilla replied. She gave him a sympathetic smile as she returned to her seat.

Clotted Cream opened his mouth to speak, but Dark Cacao was already standing and approaching the bench. “I would like to voice my dissent,” he insisted. The consul nodded.

Dark Cacao fixed his gaze squarely on Pure Vanilla. “I do not trust him,” he said. “He may be kind to you, even sweet, and you may believe he has your best interests at heart, but how can you be sure he has not turned your closest friends against you?” His voice was solemn, his gaze firm.

“I do not believe he could,” Pure Vanilla replied.

“You are trusting. It is an admirable trait, but when dealing with the beasts, some caution is in order. Trust alone will not tame a force of nature.”

“But Shadow Milk is not only a force of nature. He is a cookie, who bleeds just as you and I do. And I place my trust in him regardless.”

“And if that trust were to be tested?” Dark Cacao stepped closer, and Shadow Milk found himself shrinking away. He did not like the look that was cast his way. Withering nausea came over him again.

Pure Vanilla sighed and chewed on his cheek for a moment before producing a response. “Black Raisin Cookie, perhaps my most trusted advisor, has had her faith in me tested time and again. If Shadow Milk- if the Beast of Deceit was to destroy my court from within, he would start with her. That she has yet to turn on me only strengthens my trust.”

It was true, and he resented it. After the time they had spent training together, she was likely who he would have turned to first. Strawberry Crepe was already something of an ally, but they were too young and naive to be a proper agent of deceit. If he were to turn on Pure Vanilla, it would be Black Raisin Cookie that he would attempt to sway. And he had no interest in doing so.

“Perhaps,” Dark Cacao said. “But he is tricky. There is always a scheme with these beasts. During my time in Beast Yeast, Mystic Flour Cookie showed me visions that did not come to pass. If he got in the minds of your subjects, what would happen then?”

“He has,” Pure Vanilla replied openly. Shadow Milk turned, eyes wide.

What is he doing??

“And he has made up for it. He has remedied that mistake.” Pure Vanilla was looking across the room, at Golden Cheese’s attendant. Perhaps Shadow Milk was not the only deceiver in this room. “I have forgiven him.”

“And if it happens again?”

“Then…” Pure Vanilla left his place and approached the podium. He placed a hand gently on Dark Cacao’s shoulder, and the king flinched. “If that happens, I will seek out your counsel, and I will put my trust in you. Will you help me see the error of my ways if it comes to it?”

Dark Cacao’s gaze dropped to the hand on his shoulder, and then back to Pure Vanilla’s face, so earnest and warm. Shadow Milk stifled a laugh. It was something of a relief to know that he was not alone in feeling disarmed by Pure Vanilla’s smiles. Unlike him, Dark Cacao did not fight against the sunlight. Resignation came over him, and he nodded. There were lines etched into his face that told a story of a life long-lived.

All of the ancients wore the burden of their age differently; on Pure Vanilla, the signs were not obvious from the outset, all hidden in his behavior and his manner of speech. Pure Vanilla wore his age as doubt and fatigue, as though he forgot that he, too, required rest and sustenance to go on. Dark Cacao, however, bore it physically, wore his age in the lines under his eyes and his graying hair.

“Very well,” the king said. “I will not strike until your beast gives me reason.” He stepped away from the podium and away from Pure Vanilla’s touch, which lingered a while. That hand stayed in the air, trembling, as Dark Cacao drifted away.

‘Unless’ you give him reason, his internal compass corrected. Dark Cacao had phrased it as a when, not an if. Shadow Milk resented that. Perhaps curiosity would be replaced with spite as his motivator. If Dark Cacao thought he was incapable of gentleness and redemption, perhaps the truest revenge would simply be proving him wrong.

Why do you care what he thinks of you?

When Pure Vanilla returned to his side, Shadow Milk snaked both hands around his arm and held him there, nails digging into his sleeves. He rested his chin on Pure Vanilla’s shoulder. The healer gave him a look out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing.

“Does that make it my turn, then?” Golden Cheese stepped forward at last. She looked furious.

“Speak,” Clotted Cream said.

“I think all of this farce is unnecessary.” She brought her spear to the podium with her. In the gold, Shadow Milk saw his reflection. There were shadows over his eyes. “He is a beast. What point would there be in this charade if I were to concede to you?”

Pure Vanilla tensed. “Well-”

“If I may.” Clotted Cream gently tapped his gavel. Pure Vanilla shifted to look at him, and Shadow Milk was jostled by the movement. He tightened his grip around Pure Vanilla’s arm.

Golden Cheese scoffed. “What do you have to say?”

At least someone else in this room empathized his irritation whenever Clotted Cream spoke. If only it were not the cookie who seemed most insistent on his demise.

“I have seen Shadow Milk Cookie’s power firsthand.” Clotted Cream scanned the room with sharp focus. Shadow Milk recalled the festival, his fight with Pomegranate Cookie, and wondered if that story had made its way back to the consul. “If he were to ally himself with us, as Pure Vanilla Cookie suggests, we would have a weapon at our disposal that might well turn the tides of this war. The might of the ancients, the power of a dragon, and the fury of a beast? We may just have a fighting chance. I believe the point of this charade, Golden Cheese Cookie, is the weapon we could wield if Pure Vanilla is right.”

Shadow Milk felt himself pulled in every direction.

A weapon?

A weapon. That was all the good he had to offer. That was what he brought to the table. If his recovery succeeded, Pure Vanilla had a weapon. A supercharged, concentrated force of magical energy, a beast that could turn the tides of the war. The floor was falling out beneath him, the walls were twisting into fractals before his eyes. Tremors wracked his arms. His fury only grew when he saw the thoughtful look on Golden Cheese’s face, as though she was earnestly considering it. His hands closed into fists, and the chair beneath him trembled, as unsure of where to go as he was. With his nails still clawing into Pure Vanilla’s sleeve, it took little time for his other half to become aware of his turmoil and give him a concerned look.

What a laugh. Giving him a gentle smile like this was not his fault. Every time he thought he understood the shape of his situation, some new variable was thrown in his face. First it was the realization that Pure Vanilla had never believed his excuse for coming to the Vanilla Kingdom. Then, it was the crack in his soul jam and the loss of his autonomy. Now, it was the ugly, bitter truth that he was only here to serve as a weapon.

Pure Vanilla spoke. “Shadow Milk Cookie is not my weapon. He is my friend.”

Another lie?

A hand pressed against the small of his back, holding him in place. Pure Vanilla said nothing to him directly, but the pressure stabilized him. The chair stopped threatening to spin out of control.

“Be that as it may,” Golden Cheese said, “I do not trust him.”

“Do you trust me​?” At the wounded tone in Pure Vanilla’s voice, Shadow Milk felt an ache in his chest. His soul jam pulsed.

Golden Cheese’s brow furrowed. “I trust you, yes, but… The fact of the matter is, my friend, that you do not know the pain of losing everything you hold dear.” Pure Vanilla shuddered against Shadow Milk. The hand against his back closed into a fist, gripping his cape tightly. “You do not know what it is to lose your treasures, your kingdom, everything you have ever known.”

You do. You know how it feels to lose everything. Shadow Milk dug his nails tighter into Pure Vanilla’s arm. Yes, he knew how it felt to lose everything. He also knew how it felt to destroy everything that mattered to someone. He knew what it was the be the snake in the grass causing a peaceful garden to descend into anarchy. He knew what it was to be the ghost whispering in the ear of the Herald of Change. He knew what it was to encourage apathy as a response to pain and rage. To be a bystander, suggesting silence when action might have prevented unspeakable calamity. And he had enjoyed all of it.

“I-” Pure Vanilla started to speak.

“No.” Golden Cheese raised her spear and brought it down on the ground. “You had a kingdom to return to when you found yourself. You had a home.” Her eyes were fierce, but it wasn’t only anger spurring her. There was something else there, too. When she looked at Pure Vanilla, never quite meeting his eyes, her eyes glimmered with greed. “I do not want to see you lose it.”

Pure Vanilla let out a soft sigh. Ever so slightly, he slumped against Shadow Milk.

“I do not want to see another of my treasures crumbled.” She met Pure Vanilla’s gaze.

“Excuse me.” Shadow Milk spoke. His chair whirred, and he hovered into the air above the podium. “May I speak?”

“You want to defend yourself?” Golden Cheese was glaring at him, spear at the ready.

“Oh goodness, no.” He gave her a Cheshire grin. “I have something else to say.”

The assembled cookies said nothing. A sea of eyes met him, and he faltered for a moment. He had no power here. He could not command their attention with tricks or illusions. Only his voice.

Well? What are you waiting for?

“You are all debating my intentions, no? You want to know why I am here and what I am going to do.” He hovered around the room. Every pair of eyes followed him. “Well, I think that’s wise. I think it’s right. I am not an ordinary cookie. I have done horrible things. You are right to be on your guard.” As he drifted past Dark Cacao, he flicked the back of his neck, and the king turned, anger flaring up on his face. “However. What I will not stand by and abide is criticism of Pure Vanilla’s judgment.”

At that, the expressions of his audience morphed into curiosity. He had their complete attention now. Even Pure Vanilla looked alarmed.

“When I came here, I was lying. I came under false pretenses, hoping to steal what belongs to me from a foolish, trusting king.”

Golden Cheese swung her spear forward to point it at him. He knew if he was foolish, if he stepped even slightly out of line, her aim would be true.

“But Pure Vanilla knew. From the moment I stepped foot over the castle doorway, he knew I was lying. And he let me in anyway.” His voice was lilting and musical. “While you all have been debating his judgment, this spider was weaving a web around me.” There was a phantom pain in his wrists.

“I won’t ask you to trust me. You should not trust me.” He drifted back into place. “I am a liar. I always will be.” His hand settled on Pure Vanilla’s shoulder. “But if you dare to doubt his capacity to rein me in again-” anger came through his tone. He sounded too much like himself. Without any sort of mask, his voice was low and dangerous and heavy. That playful lilt that made him so enigmatic had melted away, and now he was just angry.

“Trust this. Pure Vanilla Cookie is perfectly capable of killing me.” From his other half, he heard a sharp intake of air, and he did not turn to look. He could picture the look on Pure Vanilla’s face, could almost feel the sweat dripping down his cheek. “He hasn’t yet. Would you like to know what will happen if it comes down to it, and his kingdom is threatened?”

Golden Cheese raised an eyebrow and inclined her head.

“If I turned on him, I would be dead before any of you had a chance to move. Do I make myself clear?” He snarled these words, and in his minds eye, he could almost envision it. Could almost taste the jam spilling through his teeth.

Golden Cheese lowered her spear. “I see.” She did not look appeased, but something was playing across her features. “Pure Vanilla, I worry for you, but it is true that you have defeated him before. As we all have defeated our counterparts. I believe you are making a mistake.” The radiant queen stepped away from the podium. “But it is your mistake to make.”

“If it is true that Shadow Milk has been redeemed,” Hollyberry spoke up, “does that mean there is hope for his colleagues?” Her eyes were bright and hopeful, her lips just barely pulled into a smile. What had she seen in that garden? How had she been received? The hope on her face was not unfounded; she must have some reason to believe. He resisted the urge to press her for answers about her other half.

“You want to redeem the other beasts?” Golden Cheese snorted. “No. There is no hope for them.” Her wings twitched. Burning Spice Cookie was not as capable of biding his time or being patient as he was. Whatever she had been through, it had left its mark.

“You cannot stop a cookie like that from lashing out,” Dark Cacao agreed. His fingers drummed against the hilt of his sword. “They are fickle.”

“But on the matter of this beast,” Clotted Cream interrupted, “are we settled?”

“You know where I stand,” Hollyberry said. “I trust him about as far as I can throw him, but that is quite far.” Shadow Milk stared at her, still utterly bewildered, and she winked.

“I do not like it,” Dark Cacao said, “but I will not strike unless I am given the word.”

Golden Cheese returned to her seat. “I think it is foolish. I think he is making a mistake. But I know I cannot stop a cookie from making a mistake if their heart is truly set on it.” She gave a glance to her attendant, who responded with a sigh.

“Well then,” Pure Vanilla sighed. “I believe this meeting is adjourned. I will remain here, for anyone who wishes to speak with me more, privately.” He turned to Shadow Milk. “Would you like to go?”

“Please. Breathing in any more self-righteousness is going to poison me.”

“Be nice.”

Shadow Milk laughed and swooped down to his level. “I’m afraid business calls me away, my dearest sunflower. When will we meet again?” He regained his music, but Pure Vanilla was not fooled by his lilting voice. He tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “I will be okay,” he added, with much resignation.

Pure Vanilla smiled and held out a hand. Shadow Milk took it and pressed a kiss to his dough. “We will meet next whenever I am done fielding questions from my friends, I suppose.” Indeed, they were all waiting, and the brief moment of gentleness seemed to only raise questions. A mischievous smile came over Shadow Milk.

“Nilly,” he murmured. He pulled Pure Vanilla’s hand forward, and it came to rest on the curve of his neck. “Will you send me on my way to the gardens? I want to see how my hyacinths are doing.”

Pure Vanilla sighed, slightly laughing. It was something. After all of that, seeing Pure Vanilla smile was a relief. “You just want me to show off.”

“Mmmaybe.” Shadow Milk poked his chest. He hoped they were watching. He hoped they were all jealous. He hoped this stirred up gossip.

“Very well.” With a languid movement, Pure Vanilla held out his staff and opened a portal through the other realm. It seemed to come almost naturally to him, and Shadow Milk had to applaud him. He had come a long way. Questions began as he stepped through the portal, and then there was silence.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

White Lily Cookie sat in the greenhouse, holding a small, circular object in her hands. It was cold, made of dark blue wood and silver metal, ornately designed. She had built the device based on textbook illustrations from the academy. Concentric rings spun around each other with a satisfying whirring and buzzing sound, and light spilled out from the gaps between the rings. Each ring had notches around the edges—years, months, days, and hours. A small window towards the top gave a glimpse of the positions of celestial bodies, each a delicate miniature made of sugar glass. As she turned the rings, the planets danced around each other. She had to squint to make them out clearly in the dimming evening light. Her focus was absolute, and she did not recognize the looming feeling of dread until it had fully embraced her.

Somewhere behind her, a branch snapped, and in her surprise, the device fell to the marble floor with a resounding crack. The glass of the viewing window shattered, and the rings fell out of place. She had not the time to examine it, however. A figure was hovering behind her, sitting on a golden chair and kicking a leg absently. Like he had all the time in the world.

“Beast.” She took a steadying breath and turned, hand on her staff. Ready.

Shadow Milk tilted his head to the side and considered her. “You look tired, guardian of the silver tree. Have you been sleeping well?”

“Do not mock me, Shadow Milk Cookie. You know what I am capable of.”

Shadow Milk heaved a laborious sigh and drifted closer to her level. His cane was in his hands. Pure Vanilla had allowed that? She found her gaze dragging down to the soul jam affixed to his chest. Cracked, just as Pure Vanilla had said. Cracked, but… she could have sworn there was a light pulsing through the crevasses. Perhaps it was her mind playing tricks on her. Perhaps it was Shadow Milk playing tricks on her.

“What do you want, Shadow Milk?” She held tight to her staff. The lilies in the greenhouse around her almost seemed to respond to her anger, swaying in an invisible breeze.

“The things I do for him,” he replied, not answering her question. He shut his eyes and a look of intense concentration came over him. The cane in his hands swept down in an arc, and she instinctively leapt back—over the planetary device.

It was glowing.

She watched in surprise as the device lifted into the air, carried by stars and shadows, and light burst from every crack and edge. It was blinding, but she could not look away. Was this his doing? The shadows converged on the device, and when they faded away…

The glass was in one piece again. The planets were in their right places. For a moment, all of the rings spun wildly this way and that, and then they came to an abrupt halt. The device drifted slowly downward, and she reached out a hand to catch it. It was impossibly cold to the touch, but she clasped her hands tightly around it even so. Shadow Milk opened his eyes, and she realized he was glowing, too. There were stars in his hair, had there always been stars in his hair? She felt unsettled. She felt drawn in.

“If you ever tell a soul that I did this for you, you know what sort of fate awaits you. I won’t spell out the finer details.” Shadow Milk sneered at her, bearing all of his teeth, and she shuddered. He was a thoroughly unpleasant figure. That remained true. And yet…

“Thank you,” she said, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “It will be my secret, then.”

As she turned the device over in her hands, she noticed something strange. Something that had clearly escaped his notice, as well. The cracks in the surface were still glowing—visible, but baked into the design of it now.

Shadow Milk cackled. “You would know all about secrets, wouldn’t you?”

She did not respond. She was turning the dials frantically, matching the notches up with the cracks in the surface. The light was fading, and she had to work quickly.

“Can you hear me?” He was right beside her now. That low voice was in her ear. She shivered.

Her hands still turned. The last of the dials locked into place, and the planets spun into position. Gentle light from the model sun was suddenly extinguished as the moon slotted into place. The sky in the window went dark, and dotted constellations came into view.

An eclipse.

“Thank you, Shadow Milk Cookie,” she said, with less of a grimace this time. If he had known the advantage he was giving her, he surely would not have fixed this device.

“Eugh. Don’t point your sincerity at me.” He sounded… pained? His voice strained. “I get enough sincerity from that half a penny of a friend of yours.”

She smiled painfully. “Yes. Well.” She took her seat at the bench again. After a moment, the golden chair came down to rest in front of her.

His arms were crossed, his hair was loosely braided. One of his sleeves was looser, missing a ribbon that would have fastened it shut. There were stars in his mismatched eyes. She found herself compelled to name the constellations within. When he turned, it was like watching a planetarium in motion.

“Was there something you wanted, beast, or did you only come here to scare me?”

He looked up at her. “Scaring you was a lovely bonus. I came here because I have a question, and only you can answer it. Your greater half would certainly never dignify my questions with an answer, what with all her…” he gestured vaguely. Her greater half. Dark Enchantress Cookie was not one for sincere heart-to-heart conversations, but when it came to Shadow Milk, neither was she. “Call it… an exercise in curiosity.”

“On with it, then.” The sooner she heard him out, the sooner she could dismiss him and return to her research. This eclipse was promising, if her theories were correct.

“I want you to tell me everything you remember about the witches banquet.”

Oh. Now that… that was not what she had expected. Not in the slightest. Heat bubbled under her dough. Her vision felt cloudy. The floor dropped out below her, and she felt lost in a void, spinning out further and further away from the bench. The device in her hands, cold and full of promise, brought her attention back to reality.

“Why.”

“As I said. Curiosity.”

She considered it. Reliving her worst memories… giving him that power over her, it would be foolish. Truly, irreparably foolish. She did not believe, as Pure Vanilla did, that this attempt at redemption had succeeded. Pure Vanilla was a rare kind, forgiving and impossibly, unreasonably gentle, but he did not see her for what she was. Not really. Though it pained her… she did not trust his judgment about the Beast of Deceit. His affections were clouding his judgment. Just as they had for her.

“Convince me.”

He looked taken aback at the suggestion, as though he had expected more of a fight. It took him a moment to rebuild his mask. She envied Pure Vanilla’s patience, because this charade exhausted her.

“Well,” Shadow Milk began. “You and I both know chaos is inevitable. Pure Vanilla is content to live in this momentary peace, but I am not.” The waver in his voice gave her pause. Was this how it sounded when the Beast of Deceit was sincere? “I want collateral. I want to understand my maker better. Surely you can understand this.”

“Do not pretend you understand me, Shadow Milk Cookie.” She resented that he was right.

“You sought to understand why you were made, didn’t you? You went to the witches banquet to learn your purpose.” He brought his hands together in a prayer-like position. “I want to learn mine. Why I was brought back. If she intends to use me as a weapon to fight her battles, I would very much like to know why. I would like an explanation.”

White Lily took a deep breath. He was manipulating her, and she knew it. He was preying on her fears, her history, her regrets. She had sought answers because she loved cookies and wanted a good world for them. He, no doubt, was asking these questions for a game she would not want any part in if she knew the rules. And yet there was something convincing about the look in his eyes.

Perhaps letting him believe she trusted him would be a safer play than attempting to put up walls. Perhaps sating his curiosity would spare her when his charade with Pure Vanilla ended. Perhaps… well. Perhaps she just wanted to see his reaction. Curiosity feeds curiosity, after all.

“Very well,” she said.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

When Shadow Milk returned to his room, there was a smile on his face. White Lily was a good storyteller, he had to commend her. She had been brave, giving him such a sincere account. He had almost lost grip of his mask, distracted as he was by her words. How could he not hang off of every word? With her recollection, he could almost envision it, could almost feel the panic pooling in his gut at her fear. It was a new sensation, this sense of empathy. It was a hindrance. Manipulators needed to understand their targets, not feel what they felt. Reading people was one thing. It was another entirely to feel sick with fear when she was speaking.

It had been worth it, though. He had collateral now, if anything went wrong.

When something goes wrong.

Yes. On this, he and his internal compass agreed. Catastrophe was an inevitability. And now he had a script, should it come to it. He tossed aside his cape as he shut the door behind him, and it creaked rather loudly. The creaking of the hinges reminded him of laughter. He hopped off of the chair and pushed it into the corner, where it slowly settled in place. Pain flared up his legs, and he took a moment to steady himself.

“You took a while coming back.” Pure Vanilla’s voice. Pure Vanilla was here? Shadow Milk whipped around, on the defensive. He was still tense, still fearing the worst, ready for an attack to come from any side.

In his bed, his hair undone and wearing comfortable clothes, Pure Vanilla was sitting calmly, reading something which he gingerly set aside at Shadow Milk’s fearful expression. He held out both hands. “Do you want to come to bed?”

And then Shadow Milk remembered where he was. His room, his room. This was not a threat, not a trap. This was his room, and Pure Vanilla had come here to sleep.

He does have his own room.

And yet he chose this one.

Even Shadow Milk was surprised at the speed at with which he crossed the room and collapsed into Pure Vanilla’s arms. Comfort. What a fragile, desperate thing. He clawed for it, as though he might tear a hole in Pure Vanilla’s chest and nest among his ribs. As though he might curl around his heart and feel it beating. Possessive. Pure Vanilla’s arms wrapped around him, washing away any lingering pain.

“Did something keep you?” Pure Vanilla murmured into his hair. A kiss was pressed to the crown of his head.

“I… I made a visit to the guardian of the silver tree,” he admitted, haltingly.

Don’t tell him that?

It was the most sincere display of emotion his internal compass had shown in a while—complete and utter bewilderment.

“And what did you have to say to her?” The hands around his shoulders stilled in their movement.

“I didn’t try to scare her, if that’s what you’re asking. I can have decorum if the script calls for it.”

“My love, that is not what I asked.” His voice was honey-sweet, ever patient.

Shadow Milk tensed. His nails dug into Pure Vanilla’s robes and pressed into his dough. The sudden clawing drew a sharp gasp from his other half. He almost savored it. After a moment, he felt Pure Vanilla nod. Something twisted in his chest.

“Shadow Milk,” he said. Better. “What did the two of you talk about?”

“Nothing particularly interesting. We shared our sob stories. I fixed a toy for her.”

“A toy?” Now Pure Vanilla sounded interested.

“Some sort of… model planetarium.” Shadow Milk replied easily, seizing the change in subject. “The sort of thing a kitschy gift shop in the city of wizards would sell.”

“Really?” Pure Vanilla laughed, and Shadow Milk found a way to tuck in even closer to Pure Vanilla’s chest, to feel the laughter reverberate against him. Their joy was shared, and he felt laughter in his throat. “And you fixed it for her?”

“Well, she broke it. It would have been a waste of my talents not to.”

“Did she say why she brought it?” Curiosity seeped into his voice. Curiosity, that damning thing.

Something isn’t right.

A chill rolled over him. The snake was right. He had been careless.

“No, I can’t say she did.” All of the music left his voice, and it dropped down to his chest, heavy and cold. “Why do you ask? Is there anything in particular she might need to chart the stars for?”

Pure Vanilla froze. The comforting beat of his heart in Shadow Milk’s ear quickened. His face went pale. He swallowed, hard, and his jaw tensed and untensed. Shadow Milk's new sense of empathy was not a hindrance now. Now, he sought it and felt the well of anxiety that was tearing through Pure Vanilla’s stomach.

“Why the long face, Nilly?” Suddenly, Shadow Milk didn’t want comfort anymore. He wanted answers. “What, was that little toy important?”

Pure Vanilla did not respond. His arms had become dead weight, and Shadow Milk pushed him away.

“There is a reason she is charting the planets, isn’t there? Something you aren’t telling me.” Fury coursed through him. The room was growing darker. He didn’t care about the pain. Shadows drew across the window, blotting out the moon. It felt good to lash out.

Scratching at a healing wound always felt good at first.

“Shadow Milk.” That warning tone. Pure Vanilla’s eyes glistened in the dark.

“No. You don’t get to take that tone with me when you’ve been keeping secrets. I don’t like it when my friends keep secrets from me.” Everything came out as an attack, venomous and barbed. Oh, now he was beginning to understand. “This has to do with that ritual you came to my spire for, doesn’t it.”

“Shadow Milk Cookie.”

“But why the stars? What purpose could that possibly have? Unless you mean to use my own magic against me, in which case-”

Fear settled in his bones. It burned. His soul jam burned.

They are going to use the dark side of the moon against you.

“An eclipse. Your precious Lily is going to hold the ritual during an eclipse.”

You need to warn the others.

“Shadow Milk.” A weight barreled into him, knocking the words out of his throat. The room spun, his arms sprawled out above him, and he was momentarily unable to breathe. Pure Vanilla straddled his chest, pinning him down. His lungs heaved. Shadow Milk sunk into the bed, thrashing and clawing. “Please listen to me.”

He is going to hurt you. You never should have let him in. This is going to be just like the library. You should have listened to me.

“I did not know about this.”

He is lying, like he always does.

“Bullshit.” Shadow Milk raised a fist, and Pure Vanilla leaned over him to pin both of his wrists down. It was far, far too easy. This body was frail. Useless. Even a healer could pin him. No magic thread, no spider webs, just hands against his wrists.

“Listen to me. Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla paused, considering him. “And whoever else is keeping watch over you.”

What?

“I know you are not alone. Let me speak to your… whoever it is that protects you, as well. Please.”

Shadow Milk felt the room falling away from him, and his pupils constricted. The curtains were half-shut in front of his eyes. Pure Vanilla nodded.

“Listen to me. I will not seal you away again. I do not know exactly what comes next, but I know that much. It is a truth I know deep in my bones.”

In a voice that did not feel like his own, a breathy and raspy voice, the beast replied, “you have left yourself a loophole.”

Pure Vanilla leaned in even closer. The weight against his chest was a prison. It kept Shadow Milk from falling completely into the darkness.

“Nor anyone,” Pure Vanilla added. Shadow Milk could see his reflection in the eyes of his other half, terrified and angry. A caged and rabid animal. “No one will seal you away.”

“Swear it.” The words broke in his throat and came out jagged, shards of glass that cut into his tongue. The poison in his tone was bitter.

“I swear on my soul jam,” Pure Vanilla replied, completely solemn. The sincerity was aching. When it hit him, he felt as though he was drowning, and he had to cough to get rid of the sensation. “Whatever comes next, I will not seal you away.” And then Pure Vanilla removed his hands and sat up, freeing Shadow Milk’s arms. He had taken a stance of surrender. The room came rushing towards him, like a camera on a track.

Shadow Milk lurched upward, jostling Pure Vanilla back. There was a brief expression of fear across his face. Shadow Milk threw his arms around Pure Vanilla’s shoulders and did something he had not done in millennia.

Shadow Milk wept.

It felt wrong, and it hurt, and he was staining the collar of Pure Vanilla’s shirt, and he did not care. The cries that wrenched themselves from his chest brought bile with them that burned his throat. His grip on Pure Vanilla was desperate—it would have resembled an attack to a bystander. He was shaking.

Another pathetic, angry sound came from him, and then arms wrapped around him tightly. A hand rested against the back of his head, holding him steady. Assurances were murmured that he could not understand. The snake slithered into the shadows, temporarily pacified. He did not voice the thousands of questions that churned inside of him. He did not ask why. He knew the answer to that question, and he did not want to hear it spoken aloud.

“Are you in pain?” Pure Vanilla gently tapped his shoulder.

His soul jam ached. But… the burning had waned. There was only a dull weight in his chest.

“No,” he replied. He dragged his nails against Pure Vanilla’s back—not hard enough to claw into him. Just enough to remind himself he still had bite. Hard enough to send a message.

“Do you want me to leave you?”

“No.”

“Alright.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I do not blame you for being afraid.”

“You should.”

“I do not.” Pure Vanilla kissed his forehead. His constancy was impossible and inadvisable and that had never stopped him. This was where he wanted to be, and so he was going to stay there.

They sat in silence for a while, Shadow Milk desperately clinging to him and digging in his nails, and Pure Vanilla softly murmuring things to him that he could not understand.

So the old fool really intended to keep him free. After everything he had done, after everything he had the capability to do. Pure Vanilla had defended him to his oldest, dearest friends. Pure Vanilla had fought through shadow and mire to reach him. Every wall that he had built came crashing down when those gentle eyes creased at the corners.

What will you do with your freedom?

The compass. The voice that guided him.

Pure Vanilla had known it was there. Somehow, he had peered through the fog and seen something even Shadow Milk had not understood. How?

“How did you know?” Shadow Milk leaned away enough to see Pure Vanilla’s face.

“You will have to be more specific, my bluebird.”

Possessive.

“You asked to speak with- I mean-” he sputtered. “You are the most presumptuous-”

“I am a healer.” It was the same answer Pure Vanilla had given in the past. It was infuriating. No context. “You are not the first cookie I have met who is not alone in their mind, nor do I believe you are the last.” Now it was Pure Vanilla that rested his head on Shadow Milk’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. Shadow Milk held him there. This moment was sacred. Pure Vanilla was his in that breath of a moment. Only his to show this to. If any other cookie in the world saw this side of him-

“How long have you known?”

“Nearly as long as you have been here.” Pure Vanilla sighed into him. “I merely thought you were being private. But then you asked me at one point if you were speaking to me or to the Truthless Recluse, and I had my concerns.” It had been a fair question. Pure Vanilla was not generally as cold or apathetic as the Truthless Recluse.

Pure Vanilla tapped his chest to get his attention before he could zone out. “Shadow Milk, every iteration of me that you have seen has been me. They were all me, though shaped and changed by my experiences.” When Pure Vanilla spoke, his breath ghosted against Shadow Milk’s soul jam. “You, however… you carry each iteration of yourself with you, leaning on them for guidance and letting them take the lead when you cannot. As a healer, I have seen how trau- how time can take a toll on the mind, even when it does not affect the body. This is one such case.”

“I am not weak, Nilly.” His fingers closed into a fist in Pure Vanilla’s hair. He had done things that ordinary cookies would not be able to stomach. No, he was not injured of the mind. “If you insinuate again-”

“Nor am I.” Pure Vanilla shifted again, tucking his chin into the crook of Shadow Milk’s neck. “I am not weak. I can hold you back in a fight, and I can take care of myself. Though you once thought of me as such, I am not your lesser half. And yet… I am plagued with nightmares. And yet I struggle to feed myself without the reminders of my friends. I still struggle to show myself the same patience that you find so infuriating.”

“I am not like you.” 

“No. In many ways you are not. You have done things I would never do, and things I cannot and will not condone. I will forgive your trespasses, but I will not condone what you have done. But…” Pure Vanilla was twitchy, his hand drumming on Shadow Milk’s chest and pulling at the ruffles around his neck. “You have also healed from those actions in ways even I am envious of.” Pure Vanilla kissed his shoulder. It was too intimate, too… ordinary. “But, like me, you have been changed by your past, undeniably so.”

“What does that mean?” Shadow Milk tangled his hand further into Pure Vanilla’s hair. “Alright, I’ll accept this premise. I carry my past with me. I lean on myself in a way other cookies don’t. My mind is a gallery of mirrors, and my reflections love to provide commentary on my choices. What does it matter?”

Very matter-of-factly, as though it was simple and easy, Pure Vanilla replied, “it means I will need to win over all of you. Not only the part of you that I am in… that I have grown fond of.”

“Good luck.”

“Thank you. I believe I may need it.” Pure Vanilla kissed his shoulder again, and then his jaw.

“That wasn’t- alright. Fine.” Sometimes it was not worth the correction.

Shadow Milk released the tangle of hair and slowly worked his fingers through it, undoing the knots. Fatigue was beginning to seep into his dough. Pure Vanilla’s breath was slowing, whistling softly against his jaw. The arms draped across him were heavy and warm and he did not move them. A feeling of peace washed over him, peace and acceptance. It was bright, the sun in the summer and the warmth of an embrace. Joy that sang in his chest. That was not coming from him. Judging by the smile on his face, it was coming from Pure Vanilla.

This is how you make him feel???

“Shadow Milk?” Pure Vanilla’s voice was thick with sleep, and muffled by his ruffles.

“Mm?”

Whatever Pure Vanilla said next, it was in incomprehensible through the fog of sleep and fatigue, so Shadow Milk only nodded. Whatever he had agreed to, Pure Vanilla smiled happily and nuzzled into him. The old sap. Shadow Milk took a deep breath and let sleep take him.

Chapter Text

It was too warm to sleep. The sunrise began early, signaling the approach of summer, and Shadow Milk was stifled by it. While Pure Vanilla still slept, Shadow Milk slipped out of the duvet and gently put it back in place around his shoulders. He brushed a few strands of blond hair aside and pressed a kiss to Pure Vanilla’s forehead, content that he was not awake and could not comment on the gentleness of the action. The hallways beckoned to him, and he found himself wandering, leaving the chair behind, still in the fog of sleep. Gold and fawn and crimson light washed over the halls, leaving strange reflections where they met the marble floors. It was a dreamlike world, one he had rarely had cause to wander since coming here. The first few weeks, he had wandered by night, always returning to his room in time to have breakfast. After that, he so often spent his mornings wrapped in blankets, listening to Pure Vanilla’s soft breathing.

Without looking where he was going, he let his muscle memory guide him. He found himself in the ballroom. It was silent save for the birds singing outside and the sound of a gentle wind pushing branches against the windows. The banners that hung from the walls still held together. With a flick of his wrist, the instruments woven into the fabric came to life again, playing something lively and vivid. There was a brief pain in his soul jam, but it did not last, and the music distracted him. It was one of several songs he had learned when the festival was ongoing. His past may be inaccessible to him, but music always seemed to stick in his mind. He danced alone, practicing steps Pure Vanilla had taught him. The sweeping of his feet reminded him that he was real. The light was slowly creeping across the floor, and he danced along the edge of it, holding the beams in his hands as a partner. It was a very private performance, the sort of thing he had never had time to do. Now he had time in spades and a very insistent healer reminding him to train his proprioception. So, he danced.

There came a fizzing sound behind him that he recognized as the other realm, and he turned in time to see his bedroom disappear into the air. Pure Vanilla stepped through, still in his nightgown, blinking sleep from his eyes. The rising sun caught in his eyes and brought out subtle hints of color in his blonde hair as he moved into the room. It was the most beautiful thing Shadow Milk had ever seen.

Shadow Milk smiled. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“My bed was empty.” Pure Vanilla was… pouting? Yes, pouting, frowning at him like a lovesick puppy. His eyes were impossibly sad and wet. Shadow Milk almost didn't notice that he had referred to it as his bed.

“Well look at you, you found me.” Shadow Milk spun in the colorful light. “How did you know where I went?”

“I didn’t,” Pure Vanilla replied.

Shadow Milk considered that. It was possible to open up a portal without knowing where one was going, but to have learned that skill so quickly…

“You told me to ask the right questions,” he added while Shadow Milk was thinking. “So, I asked where you were, and there you are!” He looked so proud of himself, smiling so brightly.

“Yes, well done,” Shadow Milk praised. He held out a hand. “Since you are here, and I cannot sleep, may I have this dance?”

Pure Vanilla gazed at him with those heavy lidded eyes, a flush creeping on to his face. For heaven’s sake, he was all over Shadow Milk every time he was given the chance, but it flustered him to be offered a dance? What a strange sort of cookie he was.

“I would be honored,” he finally replied.

The music grew softer, and they danced through the beams of light with very little regard for form or perfection. It was messy and tired and perfect. Thse hand in his was clammy and their movements were clumsy, and he found that it did not matter. He was more sure of his movements; he did not have to look at his feet to be sure he was following the steps correctly. The heavy beating of his heart reminded him that he was a real person. Even the snake was silent, letting him have this moment alone. He almost thought it felt like approval. Pure Vanilla held out an arm to spin him, and his hair flew out in a wreath around him. When he returned, he was slightly breathless, and they both began to laugh. He had to brace himself against Pure Vanilla’s shoulder, suddenly aware that he had left the chair behind. They were very close, and he started to lean in for a kiss.

From the doorway, there was a sound of movement, and it made him startle. He leapt backwards, eyes wide. Someone cleared his throat and stepped forward. Dark Cacao Cookie, already dressed in clean clothes and fully awake. Of course he would rise with the sun.

“Am I interrupting?” His voice was gruff. Shadow Milk listened for a note of anger, but there was none there.

“No, of course not!” Pure Vanilla did not removed his hands from Shadow Milk’s waist, and he took some pleasure in that. “We are only dancing.”

“Does this serve a purpose?”

“Yes, actually! It is a good way to promote harmony within your body and ensure that you can move fluidly and comfortably.” When he began to speak about things that interested him, Pure Vanilla developed a certain glimmer in his eyes that was almost imperceptible from a distance. Shadow Milk could almost feel as though it were his excitement.

“Between you and me,” Shadow Milk muttered, “I think he’s just sentimental and wants an excuse to spend time with me.”

“Both can be true,” Pure Vanilla replied with a smile.

Dark Cacao regarded them both with a healthy dose of skepticism, brows low and eyes narrow. When he was considering something, he rubbed his chin with his thumb and his forefinger, and he focused on the middle distance. After a moment, he spoke. “May I join you?”

Pure Vanilla nodded. “Of course, if Shadow Milk does not mind waiting for me.”

“Ah.” Dark Cacao coughed uncomfortably. “I… was actually asking the beast.”

Shadow Milk raised his eyebrows. Of all things, that was not what he expected.

“I thought I was the big bad wolf,” he snorted. Pure Vanilla kicked his shin, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to get his attention.

“Do not make me regret this request,” Dark Cacao grumbled.

“Alright, I’m curious. I accept.” Shadow Milk smiled. Pure Vanilla released him, not without a slight sigh, and stepped to the side to watch. Dark Cacao took his place.

To accommodate for his new partner, Shadow Milk allowed the music to slow into something less lively and more structured. Dark Cacao was taller than Pure Vanilla, and Shadow Milk had to crane his neck to look up at him. He was now acutely aware that he did not have his chair to rest on, and he stumbled as they turned. To his surprise, his companion caught him with a hand under his shoulder and steadied him.

“You favor your left,” Dark Cacao informed him. “It would be easy to land an attack on you from the right.” He took a step forward, and Shadow Milk took a long step back to account for his height.

Why is he helping you?

Pure Vanilla might have won the trust of his compass, but not this cookie. He was glad of it. Having that protective sense, though it had at times led him astray, made him feel safer.

Dark Cacao held out an arm to spin him, and Shadow Milk allowed it. When he returned to position, he paid closer attention to his right side and was able to catch Dark Cacao’s hand without looking.

“Where did you learn to dance? I got the impression you didn’t do fun in your kingdom.”

Dark Cacao narrowed his eyes, but Shadow Milk felt humor in his gaze. “We are not quite as raucous as you, perhaps, but we enjoy ourselves.” He straightened his arms, and they stepped away and then together. “And, as your… as Pure Vanilla said, it is a good exercise. I believe it is worth it in the name of training.”

“He knew I wouldn’t play nice if he didn’t make it fun for me,” Shadow Milk mumbled.

Stop admitting things to these cookies.

“The dancing?”

With a self-conscious frown and a tone of absolute digust, Shadow Milk corrected him. “Physical therapy. My… boss, shall we say, was not particularly considerate of physical strength when she conceived of this form for me. Your friend here was kind enough to re-train me.”

“You are powerful though, are you not?” Dark Cacao turned, and Shadow Milk followed, as they arced across the floor.

“Magically, perhaps. I’m untested in that regard. Physically, however…” He removed his hand from Dark Cacao’s and waved it in the air in a vague sort of gesture.

“This could well be a ploy to get my guard down,” Dark Cacao commented.

Shadow Milk snorted. “Been there, done that. The last time I tried the damsel in distress act, on Pure Vanilla, I found myself… burdened with unnecessary feelings.” He swayed on his feet and fell backwards, and Dark Cacao, ever the gentleman, caught him by the waist and righted him. “He is very persuasive.”

You’ve said too much.

Dark Cacao had a new light in his eyes. “Is that why you are still here?”

“No, I just really love constant vilification from former heroes who haven’t bothered to learn the first thing about me.” Shadow Milk snorted. “Nilly is the first cookie in eons to ask about me. To get to know me.”

“That is the effect he has on others. He has always been charismatic.” Dark Cacao stepped back and then forward with surprisingly light steps. “If that is what concerns you, then… tell me about yourself.”

Really???

“Well, I like long walks on the beach, I unwind by tormenting my other half-”

“I am not as forgiving as Pure Vanilla. Either speak with me as an equal or end this conversation, but I am not interested in playing games.”

“Ugh. Fine.” In the back of his mind, he could almost hear Pure Vanilla asking him to ‘play nice.’ “What do you want to know, my liege?”

Dark Cacao sighed heavily and considered that. “You were once the Fount of Knowledge, yes?”

It occurred to Shadow Milk how rarely Pure Vanilla inquired about that part of his past. They more frequently spoke about who he was now. His interests and hobbies, his beliefs, what he was reading. Rarely, if ever, did Pure Vanilla seek knowledge from his past. Knowing what he knew now, he understood why. Pure Vanilla wanted to know the cookie sitting before him, not the cookie that had once walked Earthbread’s many roads.

“Once,” Shadow Milk replied. “But those memories were chained away when the witches sent me into isolation.” Locked away behind a blue door, he nearly added. Straining at the hinges and buckling the wood.

That drew a proper glare from his dancing partner, who nearly stumbled. “You rebelled against your design,” Dark Cacao replied. “That is why they chained you away. Did you not think of the pain you inflicted upon others?”

“Have you never caused pain to another?” Shadow Milk stepped away and spun into the daylight. “Have your actions, in anger or in ignorance, never led to spilled tears?” He thought of milk crown flowers. Of silence and nothingness, of a void that could not be filled, no matter how loud he screamed. “Do you deserve eons of isolation for your mistakes? Does he​?” He gestured to Pure Vanilla, who was sitting on one of the unused tables and watching them. The light was catching half of his face, leaving the rest in shadow, like a classic painting.

Dark Cacao was silent. Shadow Milk felt guilt tearing through him like a glacier, carving deep emotional wounds. Not his guilt. This was coming from the cookie before him. Though the king’s expression was completely unreadable, his grip on Shadow Milk’s hand tightened, and it was clear where this well of sadness was coming from.

“Yes,” he said at last. “I have made mistakes.” They took another step closer to one another, now almost pressed together, and they took long, sweeping steps across the floor.

“As have I.” Shadow Milk’s hair billowed behind him. “Numerous mistakes.” They stepped into the shadows for a moment. “Do you believe they define me?”

“They call you a beast.” His lip curled.

“Oh, I am.” He flashed a dangerous smile. “But I am also a living thing. I bleed. On occasion I have been known to weep at a good joke. Do you believe that your experience as a person perfectly encompasses everything you were made to be?”

Shame twisted Dark Cacao’s features. He averted his gaze and sighed deeply. “No,” he conceded. “Do you ever feel that you cannot live up to the titles that have been bestowed upon you?”

“Every day.” Something about this cookie compelled him to be truthful. Perhaps it was the physical strength of the arms around him, perhaps it was the deep pools of sorrow in his eyes. Perhaps it was curiosity. Perhaps it was the creaking of the door in his mind. The Fount encouraging him to learn. “What, is ‘Hero of Resolution’ a difficult title to live up to?”

“That is… not the title that was on my mind.”

“What, then?” Shadow Milk tilted his head to the side.

“Another title was bestowed upon me, one which I fear I cannot live up to.”

“And what is that?”

“Father.”

Shadow Milk sighed. “That is quite the burden.”

“And you? What is the title that burdens you?”

You do not have to answer him.

“Friend,” Shadow Milk replied.

They spun, and Shadow Milk was grateful for the movement. Hysterical laughter was threatening to boil over within him. It was not funny, and yet he wanted more than anything to laugh. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. This was a cookie who could destroy him in his current state, who had absolutely no reason to trust him beyond the good will of an old friend, and he was openly admitting to his deepest fears. It was the sort of manipulation tactic that he would have considered a work of art if it had been him employing it. Despite his better judgment and the hissing of the snake, he found himself trusting this cookie. Admitting things. When they came to a halt, Dark Cacao’s expression was stoic again.

“My liege,” Shadow Milk said. His dancing partner startled almost imperceptibly. Physically, there was no movement, but Shadow Milk felt the jolt of confusion.

“I am not your king.”

“I suppose not. My king is there, across the room, wondering what sort of conspiracies we are sharing.”

“Do not joke of such things.” Dark Cacao had an uncomfortable grimace on his face.

“If you say so.” Shadow Milk flicked his wrist against Dark Cacao’s shoulder, and the music slightly picked up in pace. “May I ask you a question?”

“I suppose.”

“Will you teach me to beat Nilly at chess? I’m told you’re good at strategy games, and his ego needs to be taken down a peg.”

Dark Cacao’s brows furrowed. “Pure Vanilla, having an ego?”

“You don’t do sarcasm, do you?”

“I find it distracting.”

“Alright. How about this, then.” Shadow Milk managed a real, genuine smile. “It makes him weirdly, unreasonably happy when I win. We both have a vested interest in seeing him happy, don’t we?”

There was a long pause, long enough for him to hear Pure Vanilla humming along to the music. Finally, his companion responded. “Very well.” Dark Cacao sighed. “I will teach you to… knock him down a peg.”

“You’re smiling.” Shadow Milk had to crane his neck to lean in. His dancing partner avoided eye contact. “You are! The stern and stoic king is smiling at the deadly and vicious beast! They said it could never be done, and yet!”

Dark Cacao barely smiled, just the slightest upturn of his lips. It was not as great a victory as the laughter he could draw from Pure Vanilla, but he would accept it. Was there not an aphorism that decreed laughter to be the best medicine? Perhaps there was some credence to that. It was better than the threat of being cut down. There was no sword hanging over his head, but there was certainly a blade at his throat.

“Pardon me,” Pure Vanilla cut in. He had managed to approach them unnoticed. “But I believe the rest of the palace has finally joined us in the waking world, and I am still in my nightgown.” His face was flushed.

“Ah,” Dark Cacao said, as though he had not been aware. “So you are.”

“I will be returning to my room to fix this.” Pure Vanilla looked between the two of them with a stern expression. “Will you both be alive when I return?”

Shadow Milk held up a hand with his fingers crossed. “No promises!”

Pure Vanilla shot him a truly withering stare.

“One promise!”

“My decision yesterday remains true,” Dark Cacao replied. “I will strike only if the need demands.”

He phrased it as an if that time.

Pure Vanilla nodded, pacified, and opened another portal. Shadow Milk admired his confidence in the action. There was no doubt, no question about it, he performed the spell as though it was as simple as breathing. He had come so far in his use of the other realm.

“You look at him very warmly,” Dark Cacao commented.

“So do you. He has that effect.”

“Yes. But I have had years to grow fond of him. He is one of my oldest and dearest friends.” Something soft crept into his voice. “You are his opposite. His enemy. Yet you do not look at him as one would an enemy.”

“I’m a very good actor.” Shadow Milk shuffled his feet. “Are we going to dance? Or are we going to examine my gaze in more detail?”

“We may resume our training.”

The sun continued to rise as they danced, and Shadow Milk continued to raise the pace of the music as he gained his confidence. After the comment about how he favored his left, he became very aware of his balance. It helped to have such a sturdy partner to lean on, and he found himself even less afraid of falling than he was with Pure Vanilla. He stumbled forward on a particularly difficult spin, and when Dark Cacao caught him, he heard a cough from the doorway. They both turned, and saw Hollyberry Cookie standing there with her eyebrows raised.

“Are you having a party without me?” She stepped into the room and leaned against the wall, nodding her head back and forth to the music.

“We are training,” Dark Cacao replied.

“You have music. You are dancing. It looks like a party to me!” Her laughter put Shadow Milk at ease. Now she was company he could relax in. “May I watch you?”

“I suppose,” Dark Cacao replied. His lips were just barely curled into a smile.

Their dance was interrupted again only a few steps later by the sudden presence of Crunchy Chip Cookie. He was far less calm about the whole affair, standing in the doorway in a fighting stance.

“Sir,” he cried. “Has the beast cast some sort of spell on you?”

“They’re training,” Hollyberry informed him with a laugh and a nudge to his shoulder that nearly knocked him over.

Crunchy Chip’s eyes widened. “Training?” His curiosity was piqued, and he settled in place to watch them as well.

As the minutes passed and the sun continued to rise in the sky, they amassed a small crowd of cookies, all watching as the dance grew more and more complicated, the music faster and faster. His breath was heaving, and his legs were beginning to burn, but he was determined to see this to its conclusion. As they took their final steps, he heard the fizzing of a portal, and when Pure Vanilla stepped back into the room, the music struck its final chord, and Dark Cacao dipped him back. Upside down, he watched the look of utter bewilderment and delight on Pure Vanilla’s face.

“You have a crowd,” he commented, holding out a hand to Shadow Milk.

“I’m charming and handsome and an astonishingly good dancer.”

“I can feel how much pain your legs are in,” Pure Vanilla chided. “You could have taken a rest.”

“And leave the audience in suspense?”

“Shadow Milk.” He laughed. “What am I to do with you?”

“I have a few ideas.” Shadow Milk batted his eyes.

“Goodness.” Pure Vanilla glanced around the room, searching for something. “Shadow Milk, where is your chair?”

“I may or may not have forgotten it.”

“Oh, creators grant me strength.” His other half pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and his thumb. “Alright. Come here.”

“You know, you could always heal me normally.”

“I would never hear the end of it if I did.” Pure Vanilla was laughing. “We both know you enjoy this, even if you make a fuss of it.”

“Perhaps.” Shadow Milk allowed Pure Vanilla to wraps arms around his shoulders and draw him into an embrace, and he felt healing magic wash over him. If the price of chronic pain was constant embraces from Pure Vanilla, perhaps that was a trade he was willing to make. Almost.

Dark Cacao cleared his throat. “Thank you for training with me,” he said. “I think I can see you more clearly now.”

“And I you,” Shadow Milk replied, muffled by Pure Vanilla’s shoulder.

“I believe,” he continued, “that I should seek out the rest of our friends.” He was speaking to Pure Vanilla, not him. “Be well, Pure Vanilla Cookie.”

“And you,” Pure Vanilla replied with a sweet voice. He was still holding Shadow Milk close. In the quiet, Shadow Milk had a moment to scan the room. Most of the cookies who had attended yesterdays trial had joined the crowd, along with Black Raisin Cookie and several members of the staff. Gossip had spread quickly, he supposed. As he watched, Black Raisin leaned over to Black Sapphire and commented on something, and the two of them shared a nod. He expected they were keeping an eye on things—the kingdom’s most notorious gossip and the woman with many pairs of eyes. What a dangerous combination of characters. He noted who else had stopped by to watch the performance and felt a line forming between his brows when he did not see who he was looking for.

There were two notable absences in the crowd.

Golden Cheese and White Lily.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Now, Shadow Milk found himself alone again, wandering down to the Crow’s Nest. It had taken a while for the crowd to disperse, and then a moment longer for him to actually leave the ballroom. The lack of rest was finally hitting him in earnest. Pure Vanilla had left him, embarking on a search of the kingdom for his missing friends. Not that he would ever admit to it, but there was a gnawing anxiety growing inside of him. The two cookies who had been most resistant to trust him were now missing at once, and one of them might have learned information she could use against him. His stomach was twisted in knots, and his soul jam itched. He was not alone—Black Sapphire and Candy Apple followed him, both chatting away. Despite their presence, he felt lonely, and it was stifling. At least the Crow’s Nest would be loud, busy, distracting. He continued down the path.

He supposed it should not have surprised him to find Hollyberry Cookie there, but it was still a bit surprising to be grabbed by the arm and pulled over to a table as soon as he entered the room. The doors were still swinging shut behind him by the time he landed in a wooden chair, feeling slightly frazzled. His vision was still not what it once was, and Hollyberry had come at him from his right side. Stars swam in front of his vision, and his fingers went cold.

Once he could breathe again, he looked around the table. His friends had settled beside him, and Hollyberry had returned to her seat. She was staring at him patiently, as though waiting for him to answer a question.

“Did you say something?” He mumbled.

“I asked if you were alright. You were swaying quite a bit, my friend.” She waved over one of the villager cookies and asked for another round of drinks while he readjusted.

“All part of the show, darling.” In the dim light, it was hard to make out her expression clearly.

“Will you answer me honestly if I ask how you’re feeling?” She lifted her drink to her lips and finished the last few sips of juice.

“Remind me who you’re talking to?”

“I am speaking with Shadow Milk Cookie, who is quickly becoming a good friend of mine.” She was already slightly buzzed, if the flush across her cheeks was anything to go by. It was only mid afternoon and she was already drinking? Perhaps that was how she carried her age, by drowning her memories.

“Give me that.” He swiped his drink from the bartender cookie when they returned, two glasses in hand. It was warm and sweet on his tongue, and it burned just right going down. He took long sips, feeling the heat spread through his body. His face was warm.

“You might want to slow down, friend,” Hollyberry warned.

“You have no business to tell me what to do.” The glass slammed against the table. “You’re the one day drinking.”

“I know how much I can handle.”

“We’re getting into the insults a bit early, aren’t we?” He crossed his arms.

Black Sapphire tapped his shoulder. “She may have a point. Perhaps it is wise to-”

“-oh, now you’re on my case?” He glowered at his former minion. Black Sapphire was completely unphased. Ever since their arrival here, he had been gaining a new level of independence. Now, apparently, he felt like enough of an expert to tell Shadow Milk about his own health.

“I am not on anyone’s case.” Black Sapphire sighed. “I just don’t want to hear it from Pure Vanilla if you’re hung over tomorrow.”

“You don’t want to hear it?” He laughed. Some of his tension eased. “I have to wake up next to him.”

Hollyberry spat out her drink and slammed a fist on the table. All eyes turned to her.

“That was true?” She had to cough and splutter until she could breath properly. “I thought Smoked Cheese Cookie was exaggerating.” Shadow Milk gave her a withering stare, but she was not susceptible to his intimidation, and she continued laughing. It was, much to his chagrin, infectious. Laughter bubbled up in his chest.

“It’s all a part of my schemes,” he said.

Don’t say that. She might believe you.

“Is it, now?” Hollyberry leaned forward, taking on a conspiratorial tone. “Tell me more about your schemes to woo my friend. Is he eating well? Are you making sure he rests?”

Shadow Milk sighed. “Yes, and yes. It’s all part of the plan. First, I ensure that he is completely and utterly spoiled, and then I annoy him for the rest of his life.”

“Oh yes, he seems quite annoyed.”

Shadow Milk took another long sip of his drink. She had gotten him talking. When he set his glass down, he saw Candy Apple giving him a curious look.

“I’ll order you a drink as well,” he told her, and her face lit up. Black Sapphire was shaking his head and alternating between drawing a finger across his throat and waving his hands in the air.

“Hold on,” Hollyberry said. “I’m not so sure you should be giving that one anything to drink.” Under her breath, she added, “unless you really do want this kingdom to fall apart.”

How much had she already had, to be joking with him so openly? They had bantered before, yes, but she normally awarded him the level of scrutiny he deserved. She was being too friendly with him. She really did see him as a friend, didn't she?

“What if I do​?”

“Come now.” She took a sip of her drink. “Can’t we be nice? I wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk to me about what.”

Hollyberry shuffled in her seat and folded her hands over each other. Some of her confidence ebbed away once she was actually confronted. She took another sip of her drink.

“Come on, my curiosity is piqued now. What can I do for you, darling?”

Hollyberry looked to the side and folded her hands over each other. “Your friends… the other beasts. Do you think there is any chance they could be rehabilitated?”

He glared at her. “It’s hard to say, you know. Was Eternal Sugar as suffocating with you as she has always been?” Having the chance to finally interrogate her experiences in the garden was sufficient motivation to play nice.

“I suppose she was rather… unsure of herself, yes.” She raised her eyebrows. “Were the two of you close? Before you fell?”

Close was a word for it. Her garden was certainly etched into his memory, and the world of his dreams often took the shape of a saccharine grove. When he had fallen, he had pulled her down with him. They had danced on a tightrope together.

“We were imprisoned together for an eternity,” he replied. “That is a lot of time to explore all of the ways two people can hurt each other.” It had been cold in the tree. Only pieces of the time were still whole in his recollection. That time was a dream, a fleeting reality. His memories of it consisted of emotions and sensations, less so of anything tangible. A chill rolled down his spine, and then he felt a hand over his.

He turned to the side and noticed that Black Sapphire and Candy Apple were leaning in close, hanging on his every word. He had never truly told them about his past, only telling them what was necessary and sparing the details. He had elaborated and fabricated details as needed to build an even more intimidating reputation. If he were not himself, he supposed he would be just as curious as they were. An impossibly powerful being with a mysterious past and a vengeance? That was the perfect setup for curiosity. If only it was as simple as merely answering their questions.

Hollyberry finally spoke. “I see.” She hummed to herself, and Shadow Milk took the momentary silence to drown his frustration in more juice. It burned, and that made it all the better. When the last drops were gone, he raised a hand to the bartender to order another. His companion spoke again. “Do you… do you believe she can be redeemed?”

“Let me ask you a question.” He leaned over the table, and watched her eyes closely. There was a hint of fear there, hidden beneath her playful facade.

“Yes?”

“Do you believe in my redemption? Do you truly believe I have changed? Or do you see what you wish from her when you look at me?”

Hollyberry swallowed and looked away. Sweat beaded on her forehead. A slight shudder moved her hands. She did not answer him for a long time. Around them, other cookies were beginning to leave, to return to their homes or their jobs for the rest of the day.

“I do not see her in you,” she whispered. He tried to believe her. “But when I see you, with him, I…” Shadow Milk felt a lump forming in his throat. “She was hurting so badly, and it burned me up inside to see pain that I could not protect her from. I had to take care of mine before I could help her. I only wish to see her again.”

“She is sentimental.” Shadow Milk leaned his head on his hands. “She wants the best for everyone, but she is willing to replace what someone needs with what she believes will make them happiest. She has never truly experienced the very thing she seeks to grant unto others.”

“Happiness?”

He nodded.

“You make her sound like Pure Vanilla. Always looking after everyone else before themselves.”

“In a way, perhaps.” It would explain why he had been drawn to both of them. “The difference between them is that Nilly understands what cookies need. He understands that sometimes the road to healing is uncomfortable.” He thought of the scolding he received if he left his room without his chair for too long. He thought of the dancing lessons. Of healing magic. Of a library in ruin. “Wounds itch and burn before they scar. She would let you pick at a scab until it bled, over and over, if you insisted that it was making you happy. She would give you salt to rub in the wound if you asked.”

He felt something against his side, and looked over to see Candy Apple wrapping her arms around his waist. What a sob story this must be for anyone to pity him, even her. He patted the top of her head. It felt strange to accept comfort from someone he had so regularly thrown into the line of fire when it suited him. Now she embraced him like a friend, like someone she looked up to. She, too, had grown independent in their time here. Less clingy, less praising. She still looked up to him, but she had stopped regarding him as the center of her world.

Hollyberry interrupted his thoughts. “And you are speaking from experience?”

Pointing fingers at his colleagues would get him nowhere. For every story he could share, there would be something he had done to her that he had not made up for.

“Glass houses,” he finally replied, with a wave of his hand.

“You do not make her sound like a monster,” Hollyberry remarked. "You make her sound misguided.”

“You do not need to be a monster to inflict harm.”

“Nor must you be a saint in order to heal.”

Shadow Milk averted his eyes. Silence blanketed the table. Perhaps coming here was a mistake. Hollyberry finished her drink and pushed back her chair. “I think we’ve both had enough.”

He protested, but she took his drink from his hands and returned both glasses to the bar. He watched her go with narrow eyes. Once Hollyberry had set her mind about something, she was very determined, and apparently he had ingratiated himself enough to be protected like one of her friends. She was not pitying him, she was being protective. He sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, and Candy Apple released him. When he tipped his head back, his vision swam, and the aura he had come to expect was shimmering in his periphery. The ceiling was twisting into beautiful fractals. Perhaps Hollyberry was right.

Don’t say that.

Perhaps he would take Hollyberry’s advice to stop drinking, just to see what would happen, out of pure curiosity and not at all because she was trying to help him.

Fine.

When she returned, he waved. “I should start heading back to the palace soon, before my dearest host wonders what I’m doing and gets suspicious or drives himself mad with worry. Do you want to walk with me?”

Hollyberry smiled. “Alright, I think that sounds nice.” She held out a hand, and he accepted the help while fielding complaints from the snake. Accepting her civility was a strategic move. It would please Pure Vanilla to know they were getting along, and it would be good for him not to walk unassisted. Besides, she liked to feel helpful. After that conversation, she deserved a win.

As they pushed through the doors and back into the afternoon sun, Candy Apple blurted out, “is it true that you’re dating a dragon?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Shadow Milk found Pure Vanilla surrounded by hyacinths. He was in the garden, alone for the first time all day, simply breathing in the afternoon air. Bluebirds sang around him, churning the air into a breeze with their wings and causing his hair to gently wave around his face. It was a picture out of a fairy tale. Shadow Milk was silent, watching from the shadows as he soaked up the sun. A butterfly fluttered down and landed on Shadow Milk’s arm for a moment, and he watched it with interest. The blue wings gently opened and shut. They were slightly translucent, and the light filtered through them. It took a few steps forward on his hand and then fluttered away to land on one of the hyacinths. Already, the flowers looked so much healthier. So much brighter. They had grown remarkably well, settling into their new home easily among the other greenery. Even Pure Vanilla had expressed surprise at how quickly they adapted. Now, he turned, and he jumped slightly.

“Oh! Hello,” he said. When his eyes focused and he could see who had startled him, his gaze softened. “Hello bluebird.”

“Nilly.” Shadow Milk smiled back. It was insincere. All he could think of were questions. He was sitting on the chair again, Hollyberry had insisted he fetch it before going anywhere else.

Sensing his tension, Pure Vanilla held out a hand. “I did find them,” he assured.

“Planning my destruction, no doubt.” He laughed, but it wasn’t funny.

“Nothing of the sort.”

Shadow Milk took the outstretched hand and let Pure Vanilla pull him into the sunlight. “What, then?”

“White Lily and Golden Cheese have… a long and complicated history. As unsatisfying as I’m sure it is for you to have no closure, their disappearance had little to do with you and everything to do with their past. There are wounds there that will not heal easily.” Pure Vanilla was watching him closely. When he did not immediately turn to anger or rage, the healer relaxed. "They were merely talking."

“Hmm.” He was not convinced, not entirely, but the look on Pure Vanilla’s face was persuasive. And he knew they had a history. The lack of closure was unsatisfying, but dwelling on it would only hurt him. It was not his business to pry about their conversation, but he was deeply curious. And perhaps slightly anxious. “If I ask for more details, are you just going to tell me it’s private?”

“Why ask me if you know what I am going to say?” 

“It annoys you.”

“That seems to be the motivation for most of your actions.”

“Untrue!” Shadow Milk circled him on his chair. If nothing else, this banter felt ordinary, and that quelled some of the storm in his mind. Or at least it distracted him from it. He chased the sense of normalcy. “Sometimes my motivation is to bother you. Or to pester you. Or to embarrass you. Or to-”

Pure Vanilla pressed a hand over his mouth to silence him, but he was also laughing too much to really make his point. “Okay, okay, I hear you-” he yelped and yanked his hand away. “Did you just lick my hand??”

“Did it annoy you?”

“Oh, for the love of all that is good in this world-”

“-my work here is done.”

Pure Vanilla wiped his hand on his robes and frowned at him, but he could not hold it for long. Eventually, he broke, and laughter spilled out of him. The birds that had been hovering around him startled at the noise and returned to the nearby bushes with an angry twittering. After a moment, Pure Vanilla wiped a tear away from his eye and spoke.

“Thank you for making an effort today.” His smile was gentle, his tone soft.

“Sure.” Shadow Milk rolled his shoulders back. Some of the mirth left his voice. “Babysitting my enemies has always been my true calling.” That was perhaps unkind. Dark Cacao had taken pains to be civil, and Hollyberry had been genuinely friendly with him.

He stepped off of the chair for a moment, leaning on his staff, and it softly whirred away to the corner of the garden. His muscles ached, but it felt good to stretch his legs. Like he was a part of his body, and not just its pilot. There was a slight ache in his soul jam, a twinge that persisted. Hardly pain, more of an inconvenience.

“You’re doing well,” Pure Vanilla assured. “Really. I think they could come to trust you.” That hope was foolish. Shadow Milk did not need the snake nearby to tell him that much. It was foolish to have so much faith in him.

“I think the trust of one cookie is more than enough,” Shadow Milk scoffed. “I hardly know what to do with just you.” He took a few wobbly steps forward, and Pure Vanilla rushed to assist him. He pressed a hand to the small of Shadow Milk’s back, and another gripped his arm. Pure Vanilla’s anxiety resonated in his chest, and his heart rate spiked.

“Your soul jam is pulsing,” Pure Vanilla murmured. “You’ve been pushing it. Do we need to speak with Espresso Cookie again?”

“It does that sometimes, haven’t you noticed? You have your own soul jam, worry about that.” Truthfully, this was something new, but if it was really a concern, Pure Vanilla would ask him about it again. That cookie did not know how to let things go. He was too distracted to even consider that he had referred to the soul jam of truth as Pure Vanilla’s.

When did you stop considering it yours?

“Why should I? You worry about my soul jam quite enough for the both of us.” Pure Vanilla was teasing him. There was a distinctly beast-like lilt to his voice, light with mirth. He had learned from his other half. Shadow Milk pressed a hand to his cheek and pushed him away.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“You like when I’m incorrigible.” Pure Vanilla suddenly swooped in, lifted him with a hand under his knees and spun him around. Shadow Milk had to wrap his arms around his neck just to hold on. The wind whistled in his ears, and Pure Vanilla’s feet kicked up flower petals that spiraled around them.

“What’s gotten into you?” Shadow Milk laughed, slightly hysterical.

“I am just-” Pure Vanilla set him down again and took a moment to catch his breath. “I am just happy. My friends are… perhaps they are not entirely satisfied with my choices, but they are here. They are here and I am experiencing the most peace I can ever expect to grasp in times like these.”

Pure Vanilla had made it clear how deeply he feared these dark times. Though he was a capable leader, he truly belonged in times of peace. That was where his heart lay. In dancing and music and deeply involved conversations about every subject under the sun. This was not where he belonged. As long as Shadow Milk was here, dark times would follow. There was still a hand on his waist.

“And I am with you. My bluebird.”

“You’re so possessive.”

Pure Vanilla raised an eyebrow. “In the spire, you were more than happy to call me yours.”

He brings up the spire so often, one would almost think he enjoyed his time there.

It was disconcerting that Pure Vanilla spoke so candidly of those times. One would expect such a traumatic experience to leave a scar, to linger and burn and grow sour. To grow knotted and tangled and unrecognizable in the winding threads of memory. He almost wished it had, that he had something tangible he could hang his guilt off of. But Pure Vanilla spoke of that time with complete, unerring sincerity, as though he could unwind the threads with his voice. He did not even look upset—his gaze was gentle, questioning. Shadow Milk felt nothing but sincerity from him.

Shadow Milk leaned in closer and pressed his lips to Pure Vanilla’s ear. He spoke in a low voice, with none of the bravado or lilt he so often employed. “Do you want to be mine, Pure Vanilla Cookie?”

Pure Vanilla shivered. “That’s…” His grip around Shadow Milk’s waist tightened. Pure Vanilla’s eyes darted up and to the side and he chewed on the inside of his cheek as he pondered something. In that moment, Shadow Milk had time to appreciate how Pure Vanilla’s skin was warm and flushed, his lips just slightly curled into a smile. The healer nodded, once, coming to his decision. A swell of emotion bloomed in Shadow Milk’s chest, something warm and bright from his other half. “Shadow Milk, I think I-”

Wait.

“No.” Shadow Milk threw himself back, unable to explain the sudden horror that came over him. It was as though he had woken from a dream. For the first time, he was seeing the world as it was. The scent of hyacinths was cloying. “Don’t say it. Don’t even dare.”

“What was I going to say, Shadow Milk?” Pure Vanilla narrowed his eyes. The hand that had rested against Shadow Milk’s waist flexed once in the air and then returned to his side.

Shadow Milk scrambled for the chair and hovered into the sky. He needed to put distance between him and his effusive other half. He needed to be far away, where the air was colder and he could not smell hyacinths. Where he would not be tormented by his new sense of empathy.

“Don’t play that game with me,” he growled. “I know what you were going to say. Don’t.”

“Why not?” Pure Vanilla tilted his head to the side. He had not grasped the turmoil of the situation. Or perhaps he had, and he was merely being as stubborn as ever. “Humor me. Let us presume you know what I was going to say. Convince me not to say it.”

“You want to make this a game?”

“I do.”

Shadow Milk stared at him, utterly bewildered. Only Pure Vanilla could turn something like this into a game. Hadn’t that been how he had won in the spire? Hadn’t that been how he wheedled his way into Shadow Milk’s mind?

“Fine.” Shadow Milk drifted only slightly closer. “We are in agreement on what you were going to say, so I will argue against it. My first argument. I frighten your people, and I will frighten them again. My nature is not so easily changed by a few dancing lessons and a repaired mirror. You cannot change my nature. You would sooner pull jam from a stone.”

“You are changing and you have changed. That we are discussing this at all shows me you have changed.” Pure Vanilla paced below him. “Your next argument?”

“I am a security risk to your kingdom. My colleagues will hurt you if they find out I am here.” Several of them more than others. Pure Vanilla’s gentle nature might just sway some of them. His skill with other cookies could perhaps grant him clemency with Eternal Sugar Cookie. With others, not so much. Burning Spice Cookie would not be swayed by a gentle, disarming smile. Mystic Flour Cookie would prey on his self-doubt and whittle him away into nothing.

When they find out, his internal voice hissed.

“When they find out,” Shadow Milk corrected.

Pure Vanilla shook his head. “We have allies who have also faced your colleagues and survived. You have met them and assessed their skills yourself. Do you believe them capable of doing so again?” He sounded almost offended, affronted for the sake of his friends.

Those friends had indeed triumphed, but his colleagues had been gathering strength. If he had changed in the past few months, he had no doubt they had too, and their changes were unlikely to be so domestic. Shadow Milk did not answer that argument. Instead, he pivoted.

“I am a danger to you. I will hurt you. I have hurt you. I am unstable.”

“Have I not proven that I will remain regardless? I will not tolerate harm done to my kingdom, but neither will I turn you out to the cold. I have always stayed true.” Pure Vanilla looked wounded. Yes, that had been a blow to his pride, Shadow Milk realized. To insult Pure Vanilla’s patience, one of his greatest virtues, was too deep a cut.

You went too far.

“I am not a good person,” he spat. It was true. He had done unspeakably hurtful things that he could never undo. They did not call him a monster to be hyperbolic.

“That does not change the fact that you are also my friend.” There was insistence in Pure Vanilla’s voice. “Morality is not ontological. Who you are in one moment does not determine who you will be in the next. All that matters to me is that you are better each day than you were the day before.” He sounded angry. Not heartbroken, not lonely, but angry.

“I am your shadow. Just a shadow.” Gravity was betraying him, drawing him down, towards his other half.

“And that is why I want you with me.” Pure Vanilla’s arms were open to receive him, but he did not give in. Not yet.

“You aren’t even sure what you’re arguing for.”

“I know that I am refuting the insults you are hurling at yourself. Is that not enough?”

Shadow Milk hovered closer. This would never end, would it? No matter what he tried, no matter how many arguments he made, no matter what path he chose, there would always be Pure Vanilla’s gentle voice waiting at the end. There would always be a soft light at the edge of the shadows. Shadow Milk was rambling, unsure how many of his words were actually spoken verbally, and how many were only in his mind. He could deny the ache in his chest no longer, and oh how that angered him. The great Beast of Deceit had been reduced to something so fragile, clinging onto every word his enemy said. He was not meant to want this, he had not been made to desire things outside of his position. This was everything he could have possibly dreaded, and it was the thing he wanted most in the world. In the eye of all of the chaos, a single question was hanging over his head, demanding answers. Curiosity was such a damning and vindictive thing.

“Why did I-” he bit his lip hard enough to taste jam. “Why are you-” Pure Vanilla stared at him with a steady gaze. The words hurt more to hold in than to spit out. “When did you fall in love with me?”

Time stilled.

Pure Vanilla was very slow and cautious with his next words. “It was not one moment. It happened over several months, slowly. I believe I first recognized that I could when you reached out for my hand in the library.” There was something else he wanted to say, Shadow Milk could feel the way it pulled at his chest. “When did you fall in love with me?”

“As soon as I saw you.”

No, that’s not quite right.

“I was obsessed with you from the start.” But obsession was not love, was it? He had said as much to Eternal Sugar. Obsession was all-consuming, and it fueled itself until it burned out, but it was inherently destructive. When he had first arrived, how many times had he wanted to claw those smiles from Pure Vanilla’s face? How often had he wanted to tear the castle apart? “But… I don’t know when I fell in love. I feel like I always have been. It just stopped consuming me.”

Pure Vanilla considered that for a moment, and then spoke. “Come here?”

Shadow Milk fell into his embrace with a vengeance. Whatever he hoped to achieve, he failed as soon as Pure Vanilla held him. The embrace was strong, but it was not a cage, nor a spider’s web. There was no analogy that captured the simple weight of Pure Vanilla’s arms around his shoulders. No riddle that could explain the incongruous safety he felt when he tucked his nose into the crook of his neck. It simply was.

“To answer your earlier question,” Pure Vanilla murmured into his hair, “I would very much like to be yours. With no strings, this time. As ordinary mortal cookies do. Not as some Faustian bargain or by a blessing in dragontongue. Just yours.”

Shadow Milk took in a shaky breath. He dragged himself away from Pure Vanilla long enough to look him in the eyes.

There was no trick here. No deceit. There never had been, not really. He had no excuse to linger here, and yet he did. Of course he did. Because there was something in the Vanilla Kingdom that belonged to him. Not the soul jam that he had come for. Something much better.

He did not respond directly. Instead, he asked, “may I?”

Pure Vanilla nodded.

His desire to be violent and possessive and vindictive flared up in his chest, white hot and ready to implode. It was with that desire that he pulled Pure Vanilla in and held him there. His claws were tearing into the soft fabric, and his gaze was fierce. But the kiss that followed was none of those things. It was gentle, and sweet, and cautious. Chaste. As though he had something he did not want to break.

Pure Vanilla smiled against his lips.

Something wet hit his cheek, and he pulled away, eyes narrowing. When he looked up, a droplet of water splashed into his eye, and he blinked it away while shaking his head. Then came another, and another. Thunder rolled over them. Shadow Milk laughed.

“I believe the rain is supposed to come before the heartfelt confession,” he remarked. When he did not receive laughter in response, he frowned and pulled back to look at his better half.

Pure Vanilla was shaking. “We should go inside and wait out the storm,” he said. His voice was eerily calm, like still water hiding something terrible below.

Shadow Milk watched the sky. After a moment, he understood. Storm clouds had a certain look to them—if he had access to the memories, he probably could have named them. These clouds were wild, curling and twisting into spirals. His stomach sank as he watched them crawl across the land. Not at all like storm clouds. They moved like smog. Billowing and angry and unending. The universe could not let him exist in a peaceful moment for long, it never could. His creators had a wicked and vicious sense of humor. If he would not ruin his own happiness, the fates would provide some sort of damnation for him.

“That isn’t a storm,” Shadow Milk whispered. “Something is coming.”

“Yes.” Pure Vanilla gripped his arm.

“We need to gather your friends.”

Chapter Text

Pure Vanilla felt faint. The floor was falling out beneath him, his heart was hammering in his chest, his arms were losing feeling, and his vision was dimming. Angry shadows spiraled around his periphery. Ice formed crystals in his jam. His jaw was locked in place and his face was numb. The sky was turning a sickening red. He had seen this before. Once in his own palace. Once in the Creme Republic. If this was a sign of what he believed it to be… He took a step forward, and his knee betrayed him, sending him spinning towards the ground. Before the stone path could meet him, a hand caught his arm and yanked him backwards. Something cold and metal was shoved into his chest.

“Sit,” Shadow Milk hissed. The gilded chair was gently hovering in front of him, and Shadow Milk was glaring with insistence.

“But you-”

“Take. The chair.” It had been a long time since Shadow Milk had spoken to him like that, low and warning and commanding. So often, in the spire, his other half had made ridiculous demands of him. Testing him. He had been treated like a puppet. Now, though, he felt none of that. This did not feel like a threat. It felt like desperation.

He accepted the help.

Shadow Milk took off at a dead sprint, and the chair followed. Pure Vanilla fretted over the pain he knew must be stabbing through Shadow Milk’s legs, but it was impossible to talk or do anything other than follow. They wove through the gardens, back into the palace, and through the halls in total silence that was punctuated only by the ringing echo of Shadow Milk’s footsteps and Pure Vanilla’s heaving breaths. His mind was spinning. If this was what he thought it to be, then it was far too soon for an assault like this. If it wasn’t… if it was something new, that was almost worse. All he knew for certain is that he was not prepared. The palace hallways faded into a blur in his periphery as Shadow Milk led him onward.

When they finally arrived in front of the palace, the other ancient heroes were already waiting. The air was thick with tension. Golden Cheese and White Lily, evidently the last to arrive, were taking stock of the situation. There were remnants of magic in the air—White Lily’s doing, no doubt. Wards and protections and detection magic. Silver threads that fell like leaves. Dark Cacao had his sword drawn, and Hollyberry her shield. They two were in deep conversation with a third figure, who he had to squint to make out clearly. When he recognized the face in the red haze, he was startled to find that Hollyberry’s dragon had finally arrived. They were hovering in the air, seething.

“Thisss,” they hissed, “wass not the reception I expected.”

“I apologize.” He took in a deep breath. They were certainly an imposing figure. “Things have been… rather eventful in my kingdom, as of late.” Were it not for practiced civility, he might have come across angry. Panic and anger were such similar emotions, after all.

“The red skiess aren’t typical? How wass I to know?” They bore a very wide grin. Hollyberry elbowed their shoulder, and Pure Vanilla felt as though he was looking in a mirror.

“I am afraid not.” The hammering of his heart was very distracting. It was all he could do to smile politely as Hollyberry continued to explain the situation to the best of her ability. Were he in his right mind, he would be grateful to have a powerful ally in this situation. At present, he was weighed down by the responsibility of another cookie to keep track of.

The onus of producing a response was graciously taken from him by Golden Cheese, who noticed his companion and darted forward. Her spear was pointed at Shadow Milk.

“You.” Her voice was laced with fear. “Is this your doing?”

“I have more panache than this.” Shadow Milk’s voice wavered, and Pure Vanilla resisted the urge to cling to him. That little hint of fear would have been hidden only a few months ago, buried deep in some crevasse in his soul. Now, Pure Vanilla could read him so clearly.

“If not you, then…” her grip on her spear faltered for a moment. “I do not want to believe it could be- I mean, so soon after our return from Beast Yeast…” Seeing Golden Cheese afraid was a vision nearly incongruous with reality. She was radiant, confident, she exuded self-reliance. When she looked this haunted, the world felt turned on its side. If he could not rely on her confidence, what then? Pure Vanilla bit his tongue. She was pacing, scoring a line in the earth with her spear. After everything she had been through, he hated to see her like this. All he wanted in that moment was to see her smile.

“Pure Vanilla.” White Lily drew closer to him. His heart rate settled, if only slightly. “We both know what this is.” Hearing her voice waver so filled him with grief. His heart broke for her. Though she had not done this, she was still blaming herself.

“I had hoped we would have more time before something like this,” Pure Vanilla murmured. Time. The one thing cookies always seemed to want, the one thing they never had enough of. Those who had time could not bear its weight, and those who needed it never seemed to have enough. The panic was melting away, and resolve took its place. The feeling was steady and constant, just as he always tried to be. His kingdom would not be ravaged, not again. Slowly, he slid off of the chair, which hovered by his side in case he needed it again.

“I cannot help but blame myself for this,” White Lily said quietly. He started to interrupt, but she kept going, fire in her words. “But… I know it won’t make a difference. If this is an attack, and not a mere attempt to scare us, it will not help anyone if I hide away.”

He admired her bravery. When she had first returned, she had been frightened and consumed by her guilt. As she recovered, she had grown in her bravery and found herself again. A small part of him was guilty that he had not been there to see the process. A larger part of him was only pleased that he would get to know her again, as a truer version of herself. In the past, there had been times he had hidden his face from who she truly was, clinging to his own image of her. He would not do so again. To get to know her, and not an idealized projection of her, that was an untold gift. To have another lifetime with a dear friend was the greatest gift anyone could ever receive.

Dark Cacao stepped forward. “Attack or not, I tire of these charades.” The gravel in his voice betrayed his fear. He was not one to externalize his feelings, but Pure Vanilla knew him well, could read the anxiety in his face.

“We are ready for this,” he insisted, though he did not entirely believe it.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

In the wafflebot hangar, four cookies waited around a piece of machinery. Strawberry Crepe Cookie sat on the floor with a wrench in their hands. Black Sapphire Cookie stood behind them, resting his arms on top of their head. Espresso Cookie and Black Raisin Cookie stood to the side, supervising. The machinery before them, the arm of a wafflebot, jolted and shuddered to life, emanating violet light.

“I did my best to replicate my previous spell,” Black Sapphire said. “Its conditional nature meant it would not strike down Shadow Milk.” It still felt strange to refer to him with no superlatives. Years of routine were not easy to break.

“Yes,” Black Raisin said. “You know your little spell nearly hit him? I can attest to your spell work, but at the same time…” she swatted his arm.

He sighed. Ever the critic. If only he had been there to see it, to really preen over his efforts. Instead, he had been occupied by a visit elsewhere. “If we have done our work right, this waffebot… well, this wafflebot arm—it will not attack anyone from the Vanilla Kingdom.”

Strawberry Crepe nodded excitedly, and he was thrown off balance, throwing out his arms to keep from falling. Thank goodness for wings. “We should find someone to test it on!”

“We should not,” Espresso Cookie huffed. “It would be highly unprofessional to do so.” That cookie was no fun. All work, no play.

“And I think it’d be unscientific not to,” Strawberry Crepe countered. “C’mon, we could use a little fun. I say we test it on him.” They pointed up at Black Sapphire, who spluttered and backed away.

“Not on me,” he argued. “I’m still… what was it? 75% deceit? We cannot guarantee that thing won’t turn on me. I don’t want to play target practice.”

“Don’t trust your own work?” Black Raisin raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not that,” he muttered, “I just don’t enjoy the idea of-”

Before he could make another argument, he was cut off by a sudden booming sound that shook the walls of the hangar. He clasped his hands over his ears. The wafflebot arm stopped moving and played dead. They all turned and watched through the hangar bay door as the sky turned a deep red. Storm clouds were rolling in, heralded by thunder. The way they curled and spiraled… It was unnatural. Not of this world. Black Sapphire felt a chill roll down his back.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

On his airship, Clotted Cream paced. He had overstayed his time in the Vanilla Kingdom, and as pleasant as the visit had been—aside from several mishaps and misadventures—it was time to return home. It had taken a while to collect his things and pack up the airship, and then of course to explain the situation to Pure Vanilla. Thankfully, Pure Vanilla was a very patient host, and there was no argument. As a matter of fact, he had asked for their ship to be packed with food and gifts to take home with them. If only his mind was not so busy, he might enjoy some of them. Financier was by his side, standing still, watching as the Vanilla Kingdom slowly got smaller and smaller.

“Sir,” she said. He stopped pacing. “Do you see that?” She was gesturing out the window, and there was a line forming on her forehead.

“What is it?”

“That storm cloud over the kingdom.” She was unusually worried, tensing her jaw repetetively. “Does that not seem unusual to you?”

There were red clouds of smog blanketing the kingdom, rolling forward like pyroclastic flow. He could not see the castle through the storm, but he could see electricity arcing through the clouds. Even from up here, they could feel the heat of it, and sweat dripped down his face.

“Oh no.” He began to pace again. “Does that at all look to you like-”

“-I believe we have seen this before, yes.”

They both paused to take a deep breath. In the silence, there came a horrible tearing sound, as though the very fabric of reality was coming apart. The airship shook, and Clotted Cream was thrown against the window by the sudden tilting. From this position, he had a perfect view of the hulking shape that emerged from the storm. There was no portal, no way for it to have appeared—how on earth had something so large and so beastly appeared out of the blue like that?

“Should we return and help them, sir?” Financier put a hand on his shoulder.

“Not yet,” he replied. “I want to make sure the Creme Republic is safe. Then, if the storm clouds remain, we will gather some of our best paladins and return. Pure Vanilla would never deny us aid. We will be there.”

“Yes sir.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Pure Vanilla braced himself as a horrible sound echoed across the clearing. Buildings shook, and a furious wind whipped around him, stinging his eyes. From the wine dark clouds, a monster emerged. It had splintering ribs, a thin neck, and long, spindly claws like spider legs. The way it moved was unnatural, like it was operating on a different scale of time than him. Slow, measured movements. Its single eye followed him when he moved. Its face was wreathed in candle flames. In one hand, it held a cruel weapon that easily dwarfed the buildings around them. The blade was sharp and silver and could have easily cut down a building in one swipe. It the other hand, it carried Dark Enchantress Cookie.

She was smiling, but beyond that he could not make out the details of her expression. At this distance, he could almost see the resemblance to his dear friend, and it disquieted him. Did their eyes crease in the corners in the same way? Did her laugh ring out like White Lily’s? Did she ever doubt herself or look back on the past?

She spoke.

“Ah, it is good to be back.” Her voice was ringing like funeral bells. “How I have missed your naivety, Pure Vanilla Cookie.” The cake witch twisted and leaned forward to bring her slightly closer. Those unnatural movements. Like a doll. Or a puppet.

“Dark Enchantress Cookie.” His chest ached. So rarely did he speak with so much venom.

“Did you really think you could lie to me, Pure Vanilla Cookie?” He hated the laughter in her voice. He hated the way she smiled. “I know you are harboring one of my allies. Did you think my minions would not talk to me? That I would not hear about the way you attacked her?”

‘Attack’ was something of a retelling, he thought. Whatever Shadow Milk had done to frighten Pomegranate Cookie, it had not been a physical attack. It was something else, something psychological. She had been unharmed, but the look on her face… That was the stage where Shadow Milk thrived. He wondered what Pomegranate Cookie had told her master. Certainly not that she had failed to cripple the Vanilla Kingdom. Not that Gingerbrave and his friends had chased after her once more. She had surely spun the story in a way that painted her as the victor.

What he wouldn’t give for a bit of bravery in this moment.

Amidst the chaos, Shadow Milk returned to his side. The air around him was boiling. Literally, Pure Vanilla could see the air rippling around him. It was strangely comforting to see that their feelings towards her were mutual.

“You have something that belongs to me,” Dark Enchantress continued, and Shadow Milk bristled. No, he would certainly not appreciate the assertion that he belonged to anyone. Pure Vanilla knew that quite well. Shadow Milk did not belong to anyone or anything. “I would like you to return my ally to me, and then perhaps we can all walk away from this meeting feeling as though we earned something.” She was always so smug, so self assured. A horrible bastardization of White Lily’s self-assurance. White Lily was sure of her desires, and chased them to the ends of the earth. In this, they were alike.

However.

He had very little respect for Dark Enchantress. He would have walked to the ends of the earth for White Lily.

As they considered her request, a snarling noise alerted him that they were not alone. From the shadows of the town, beasts and monsters were emerging, tearing claw marks into the pavement. They were easily as tall as a cookie, with claws as long as his forearm and eyes that glimmered in the dark. Cake wolves, here in the heart of the kingdom. Dark Cacao pushed past him, sword drawn. A large cake wolf stepped into the light and lunged at Hollyberry. She threw her shield forward to catch it, and threw it to the side in the same motion. His heart ached at the whimper that it let out, but there was not time to consider that. More of them were crawling out of the shadows, and they were in his kingdom. His home.

Dark Cacao sliced upwards with his sword, and another monster turned tail and ran. Pitaya Dragon, impossibly fast, rushed to Hollyberry’s side with fire in their teeth, and one of the wolves darted away, singed and howling. He heard an arrow fly past his ear. Caramel Arrow Cookie must be somewhere behind him, perhaps firing from one of the balconies. He smelled smoke, and watched as several of the wolves faltered and fell to the floor, fast asleep. Though he could not see Smoked Cheese Cookie, he recognized his work. One of the wolves suddenly turned heel and raced into town, and it was cut off at the pass by Crunchy Chip’s cream wolf. Their snarling was all he could hear, and for a moment he was somewhere else entirely, reliving a different battle.

He needed to focus. Something was not adding up, and if he could think clearly, he could find the piece that did not belong. He took stock of the situation. The wolves were many and they were fierce, but his friends were making short work of the pack; if anything, they were somewhat over prepared for this assault. It did not make sense. Dark Enchantress had arrived in the hand of a cake witch, and she was making very serious demands, but the only allies she had brought along were easily dispatched cake wolves? He knew she had stronger beasts in her arsenal. He had seen them firsthand. She had stronger allies, even—Pomegranate Cookie alone could have posed a serious threat if she was prepared, and yet he saw no sign of her here. Either she had been left behind, or he was not seeing her role in the strategy yet. Only one answer remained. Dark Enchantress was toying with them. There was no other explanation. It would have almost preferable to face a threat he understood. This was something else. It almost felt as though she was-

“She’s trying to keep us busy,” Golden Cheese blurted out, voicing the very anxieties that were filling his mind. He noticed she had not joined her allies in the fight. “She’s trying to keep us distracted. We must do something.” He recognized the panic and anger in her voice, and wished desperately that he could answer them, comfort her, do something at all, but he was rooted in place. Part of his mind was still elsewhere. She had been afraid that he would lose his kingdom. Perhaps she had misplaced that fear, but it had not been misguided.

“I have an idea,” Shadow Milk interrupted. Pure Vanilla’s stupor was temporarily alleviated by the sound of his voice.

“You?” Golden Cheese scoffed.

“Nilly.” Shadow Milk ignored her. He gripped Pure Vanilla’s shoulders, hard. “Get me up there.”

“Excuse me?” The voice that left his lips did not sound like his own.

Shadow Milk snatched the chair from his side and threw himself on top of it, carefully balancing. It always worried Pure Vanilla when he stood on the cursed thing, but far be it from him to deny Shadow Milk his showmanship. Golden Cheese was regarding him with a curious look now. She indicated her assent with a slight nod.

“Get. Me. Up. There,” he repeated.

Ah. Now Pure Vanilla understood. He spun his staff in the air. He had less flair than Golden Cheese with her spear, but it did what it needed to. The other realm answered him so easily now. Just as Shadow Milk seemed to be growing more proficient in restoration magic, he was learning how to wield the other realm as an extension of himself. His other half darted through the portal he had summoned, and reappeared far above the earth. Pure Vanilla felt his heart drop at how high he was. If she struck him, the fall would kill Shadow Milk before he hit the ground. The pressure of the air and the speed he would plummet… it would only take seconds for his body to crumble. He wouldn’t even have time to process what was happening.

“There you are.” Dark Enchantress greeted him with false sincerity. “Now, what in the world has kept you away for so long? Don’t tell me you actually enjoy this fool’s presence.”

Pure Vanilla clung to his staff, waiting for Shadow Milk’s response. A nagging thought was persisting in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to dismiss it. What if his friends were right? What if he had been too trusting?

With a playful tone, Shadow Milk replied, “well, you see, I have fallen in love with Pure Vanilla Cookie, and I want to stay in this kingdom as long as I can, so I can always be by his side. I am completely and utterly smitten.”

His words hung in the air for a moment as Dark Enchantress considered them. It was truly impossible to judge if he was being sincere. Pure Vanilla waited with his heart racing, only able to stand with the assistance of his staff. Golden Cheese gasped sharply, and he heard her murmuring questions under her breath. Close by, he could hear White Lily Cookie taking slow and measured breaths. He reached out a hand to her, and she accepted it.

Dark Enchantress began to laugh. Peeling, ringing laughter that hurt his ears. “Oh, and here I wondered if you really had been domesticated. You always did have a sense of humor.”

Pure Vanilla was beginning to question his own understanding of reality. Had Shadow Milk lied, or hadn’t he? Had he not admitted, mere minutes ago, to his new affections? Dark Enchantress believed it was a lie. Perhaps it had been. Perhaps he had been foolish, perhaps…

“Do not listen to her,” the gentle voice beside him whispered. “Did he not say before that there is a drop of truth in every lie?”

“White Lily…” Pure Vanilla turned to face her, and she was gently smiling. She was… vouching for Shadow Milk Cookie. That could not be right. “What do you mean?”

“I think this is a trick, but I do not think you are the fool.” In this moment, she looked so sure of herself, alive with new resolve. Despite the darkening sky and the presence of her greatest adversary, she looked radiant. “I think Shadow Milk Cookie understands that at times, the truth is so absurd it cannot be believed. Will not be believed. An absurd truth may be less believable than a convincing lie.”

“He said once that cookies prefer lies to bitter truths.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Shadow Milk and Dark Enchantress were still talking, and his attention was pulled back to the sky.

“Oh, I am not joking,” Shadow Milk was saying in that lilting voice. “Really. I love when that half-a-penny looks at me like I hung the stars.”

“Really, now,” Dark Enchantress scoffed. “You have made your point. This joke is growing old.”

“Joke? I’m hurt! It’s like you’re not even listening to me.” He was weaving around her on the chair, the same way he often did to Pure Vanilla. “I enjoy my time here. Much more than being in your employ, certainly. Shall I elucidate on the many, many benefits of living in the Vanilla Kingdom?”

Dark Enchantress suddenly lurched forward and closed her hand around Shadow Milk’s throat. He made a choked sound, and Pure Vanilla felt a desire to step in, to do something, but he knew that it was not his place. Whatever Shadow Milk was planning, he would not be pleased if he had to improvise around an intrusion. Pure Vanilla turned to face his friends, and saw that they were huddled together. He felt pulled in two directions, unsure whether he should join them or whether he should continue keeping watch over Shadow Milk.

Dark Enchantress made his choice for him with her next words.

“This joke is very amusing, but do not forget what they will do to you,” she hissed. “Do you want to return to the silver tree? Spend your days losing your mind, wishing you were dead? In the world I will create, you will be spared that fate. If you throw your lot in with them, you know exactly where you will be.”

“You forget yourself,” Shadow Milk replied with a hoarse voice, and all of the pretense was gone. Pure Vanilla recognized the exact moment the air shifted and Shadow Milk no longer felt like playing. And then he saw something that made his jam run cold. The cake witch was drawing back its other arm, wielding that sharp and deadly spear, and it was pointed directly at his other half. Shadow Milk did not see it. How could he? She still had him by the throat, and the chair fell out from below him.

Pure Vanilla went to shout something, and then his leg was on fire. In his dazed state, completely focused on the scene above him, he had missed the cake wolf behind him. Teeth sunk into his dough, and it was pulling him to the ground and dragging him back. He reached for his staff, but it was too far away.

The wolf yelped, and there was a loud impact, and then Hollyberry was pulling him to his feet. The pain slowly eased as the wolf released him, but even without looking he knew his leg was badly torn up. He could heal the surface injury, but it would take time to fully recover.

Pushing through the pain, he limped forward to collect his staff. He had made up his mind. Shadow Milk needed his help, and-

Hollyberry’s arms closed around his shoulders, holding him in place.

“Not yet,” she said. He went limp—there was no point in trying to escape her grasp. “He is keeping her distracted. We just need more time. And you should not be walking on that leg.”

It was almost comforting, being held back. It at least meant he was being held. Her new armor was cold, and it pressed into his back. All he wanted was to help his other half, to join the fight and turn the tide, his own injuries be damned.

They were still struggling in the sky. Shadow Milk was clawing at her arm, trying to free himself, and the spear aimed at him glinted in the red light. From here, he could not see their expressions, but he could imagine the look in Shadow Milk’s eyes. He had seen a similar expression on his face in his memories. Betrayal. Righteous fury. The cake witch’s arm came down in a sweeping motion, the point of the spear driving towards Shadow Milk’s back.

There was a metal clang and a blinding light. Pure Vanilla bit his tongue, unable or unwilling to accept the reality of what he was seeing. An explosion arced outwards from the point where the spear made contact. Stars showered down from above. Slowly, the red storm clouds melted away to reveal hyacinth blue skies and swirling shadows. From the darkness, eyes appeared and slowly opened. Each one turned towards the cake witch. There was a streak of light darting away from her, dragging the blue behind it as though painting the skies, and Pure Vanilla had to squint to see anything clearly. In the haze and the lights, it could have easily been a shooting star. Golden Cheese was still hovering near him, and she spoke in a low voice.

“Is that… is that Shadow Milk Cookie?” She almost sounded impressed.

It had to be. Against all odds, impossibly, Shadow Milk was flying again. He was unharmed. There was such freedom in it, the way he danced through the air and wove away from the spear. It was almost as though he was reading her movements, dodging the attacks before they came. He was turning her attacks into a dance, and it was infuriating her. Pure Vanilla felt his heart flutter. The frantic movements ceased as Shadow Milk came to a halt in midair, just long enough for Pure Vanilla to properly look at him. He looked different. Something had changed about him, but from this distance, he could not identify what. Shadow Milk briefly, almost imperceptibly, made eye contact with White Lily, who was clinging to her staff and trembling with fury.

In that blink of an eye, he made a simple gesture, one whose purpose Pure Vanilla could not understand. Shadow Milk covered his eyes. White Lily stared at him for a moment, but he provided no explanation, already darting away. Unlike Pure Vanilla, who had seen Shadow Milk at his best, when he was really earnestly trying, White Lily had absolutely no reason to trust him. She had reasons to hate him, to believe he could not change, to doubt even Pure Vanilla’s unwavering trust. He supposed he would not blame her if she hated him for this. So it was much to his surprise to see her take one hand and place it over her face with a grimace.

“Tell me when,” she said to her friends, “and I will hold her down.”

Golden Cheese nodded. “We will be ready.”

Shadow Milk streaked across the sky, more shooting star than cookie, and faced Dark Enchantress again. She was seething with rage. Pure Vanilla could not make out the look on her face, but the cake witch was nearly falling apart. As she regained her composure, Shadow Milk held out a hand and summoned his staff. When it appeared, he spun it in the air, and the blue sky darkened. The air was torn apart, and for a moment Pure Vanilla was certain he was dreaming, the way Shadow Milk had ripped reality in two. Shapes emerged among the eyes in the sky that were hazy and unclear in his eyes. The pain in his leg was too strong to focus. Murky shadows above them twisted and spiraled.

With her hand still over her eyes, White Lily whispered, “what is he doing?”

“I am not entirely sure,” Pure Vanilla replied. “He has summoned shadows in the sky. Some sort of monsters.”

Dark Enchantress was watching the shadows form with wide eyes. The cake witch twisted this way and that. One of the shadows reached for her with an open hand. There was something below her as well, a great void that swelled and bubbled. She sank to her knees in the hand of the cake witch, but the shadows were incessant in their attack. Dark Enchantress Cookie was never one to cower. If she was still capable of fear, she did not display it. It only ever presented itself as anger. Now, he could see her breath heaving, even from here. The blue of the sky wrapped her up in a veil, and behind it, the shadows reached for her. There were strange sounds echoing all around them. Distorted voices, strange laughter, something crumbling. Beyond the veil, he could see the streak of light that was his other half, circling her like a shark.

“He is not attacking her,” Golden Cheese whispered.

“No,” Pure Vanilla said. “Those shadows that are circling her, they look familiar. I feel as though I should be able to put a name to this illusion, but I-”

Wait.

No, he understood what he was looking at. The shadowy forms, towering above them with hands that could level houses. The booming laughter. This was heretical. It was sacrilegious. It was brilliant. It was a cruel trick of the sort he would not wish on his worst enemy, but Shadow Milk thrived in games of the mind. He suspected that beyond the veil, from Dark Enchantress Cookie’s perspective, the shadows looked horribly real, not at all some abstraction of shadows as they were for him. Now that he could see the shape of it, he understood why Shadow Milk had gestured for White Lily to cover her eyes. Pride bloomed in his chest. It was a strangely compassionate action for Shadow Milk to take, to tell White Lily to look away. So that she would not see this.

So that she would not see his shadow box recreation of the witches’ banquet.

Dark Enchantress Cookie screamed. It burned his ears.

“Now,” Golden Cheese cried out.

Great vines emerged from the earth, and even without looking, White Lily’s aim was true. They pierced the veil of shadows and twisted towards the cake witch. Golden Cheese prepared her spear, and Dark Cacao turned away from the horde to prepare for the next stage of the battle. 

When the vines reached the cake witch, he held his breath.

Nothing.

There was no shriek of pain. No moment of impact. The vines went through her into the sky beyond. The cake witch wavered for a moment, but it showed no signs of injury. She was too distracted by the shadows to even notice. Shadow Milk had almost done his work too well.

“It isn’t real,” he whispered. Like in the Creme Republic. Just an illusion meant to scare him. She had never really posed any sort of threat. Shadow Milk had never been in any danger, he had been playing along. It was even more clever than he had realized. He had baited her into attacking him, had let her believe he was afraid, all so he could tear the illusion apart from within. Shadow Milk was taking his cues from him. From the Truthless Recluse. “It isn’t real,” he repeated, now raising his voice. “It’s an illusion, she is not here!”

“NO!” Golden Cheese brought her spear down on the ground. She was furious, he could see it in the beating of her wings and the look on her face. Every muscle was tense. Her chance at revenge, wasted.

She was still screaming, and the rage of it chilled his dough. It was a violent noise, the sort that made his chest burn as though the sound were wrenching itself from his throat. It reminded him too much of White Lily. Of what she had seen. He found himself seeking her company. Hollyberry released him, and he raced to her side, touching her shoulder and pulling her into an embrace. She allowed him the comfort. Perhaps they both needed it. They held each other as the worst of the sound faded into hoarse scratching. It was almost over.

The sky parted again, and the shadows of the witches were gone. It was still azure, still dotted with eyes, but the show was over. The point had been made. There was only the cake witch and Shadow Milk. Dark Enchantress was taking heaving breaths, and now that the sky was clear, Pure Vanilla could see the edges of the illusion beginning to tear. The cake witch’s movements were even more stilted, and he could see the sky through her face. She could not hold herself together and maintain this illusion.

“You will be seeing me again.” Her voice boomed and filled the sky, but now that he had seen her break, Pure Vanilla found himself less afraid. It was all a show, wasn’t it? She had the power to back up that threat, but… they were ready for her. Moreso than he had thought.

“I’m counting on it,” Shadow Milk replied.

The illusion shattered, and she was gone. The smoke in the sky curled away, the horde slowly began to retreat, and the sun returned to the sky. It was as though she had never been there at all. Pure Vanilla took a deep breath when the sunlight washed over him. He could almost believe it had all been a terrible dream.

“Those wolves are still here,” Dark Cacao called out.

“I think we can handle a few dogs,” Golden Cheese replied.

“I would very much like to sssee who iss commanding them,” Pitaya said. Their tail was lashing back and forth furiously.

“Dark Enchantress may not have been here, but she likely had allies helping to cast the illusion,” Pure Vanilla cut in. Talking was difficult. “I suspect several of her allies are here in the kingdom, even if she was not.”

Now that he could focus, still leaning on White Lily, Pure Vanilla was able to channel his magic into the wound on his leg, slowly sealing the worst of the damage. It would be risky to walk on for a few days, but it would heal. It was only a shame his magic did not bring him the comfort it seemed to bring to others.

Golden Cheese spun her spear through the air with expert dexterity. “Well then! I suppose we should go! Cut them off before they have a chance to escape.”

Before taking off, she turned to Pure Vanilla and rested a hand on his shoulder. The pressure of it settled his nerves. He released White Lily from his embrace and faced her. He was taken aback by the look of intense resignation on her face. “Pure Vanilla. Tell your… tell your treasure I am grateful for his help.”

“I- I will.” That was the closest of an acknowledgment he was going to get from her of Shadow Milk’s growth. At least for now. His treasure. He liked the sound of that. “Good luck.”

She scoffed. “I won’t need luck.”

Now that was the cookie he knew and loved. Her confidence was infectious. They shared a smile, and then she was off, tailing the others. He was left alone with White Lily. There was an uneasy silence between them, and it weighed heavy. He could almost feel it on his chest.

“May I-” he started.

“Pure Vanilla-” she spoke over him.

They both stopped and looked at one another. The silence grew heavier.

“You first,” Pure Vanilla offered. She smiled, slightly.

“Pure Vanilla. I… would like to apologize.”

“Pardon me?”

She reached out and took his hand in hers. Her hands were cold, and the rough fabric of her arm wraps scratched his skin. It didn’t matter. “I misjudged you. I did not trust your judgment. Now I see that you are more… more capable than I gave you credit for.” There was a furious waver in her voice. “I will never, never forgive that cookie for what he took from me.”

“White Lily-”

Her gaze softened. “But please. Forgive me for doubting that you could break through to him.”

“You do not need to apologize for that, but my forgiveness was yours already. It always will be. As soon as you misstep, it is already water under the bridge.” He squeezed her hands. “If we are giving apologies for misjudging one another, I owe you far more than I can ever put into words.”

She shook her head.

“Perhaps,” he continued, “we both ought to get to know one another again. Would you like to start over?”

A teary laugh spilled out of her. “I think that would be wonderful.”

Pure Vanilla released her hands and held out one of his with a straight arm. “My name is Pure Vanilla Cookie. I wield the light of truth. I am sometimes treated as naive for my optimism, but I believe that no one is beyond friendship. No one deserves to feel alone.”

She took his hand. There were tears in her eyes. Distantly, he heard Hollyberry and Golden Cheese shouting jovially. “My name is White Lily Cookie. There are… many things I have done wrong. I will spend the rest of my life making up for them.”

“It is my utmost pleasure to meet you, White Lily Cookie. I hope that we can be friends for a very long time.”

Before she could speak again, they both turned at the sound of slow clapping from above them. Glimmering like the night sky, Shadow Milk hovered over them. From this distance, Pure Vanilla could better examine the changes to his appearance. There was more white in his outfit now, and the ruffles around his neck had been replaced by a feathered cape, not unlike the one he wore at the festival. There were still stars in his hair, now accompanied by silver eyes which were all closed tightly. In his eyes, Pure Vanilla could identify specific constellations, locations of the planets that he knew were accurate to their real positions in the sky. With the new colors and with the feathered cape, Shadow Milk resembled a blue jay—a resemblance which was made more notable by his squawking laughter.

“If we are doing introductions,” he giggled, “I would like to introduce myself as well.”

Pure Vanilla glanced at White Lily, and she nodded. His other half took a sweeping bow, and the feathered cape swept out behind him.

“My name is Shadow Milk Cookie.” He held out his hands and spun in the air. “They call me a beast. I was once the fount of knowledge, and I am the best liar on Earthbread. And it is my utmost joy to announce that I, yes I, am-” he paused for a moment. Considered his next words. “The cookie you see before you is the one and only wielder of the light of curiosity.”

He had done it, then. Found himself, just as Pure Vanilla and his friends had. The light inside him, once a tool of destruction, had become something new. Tears welled up in his eyes. Pride swelled in his chest.

“Curiosity?” White Lily tilted her head to the side.

“It’s so nice you’ll say it twice!” His tone was playful, but Pure Vanilla could not miss that there was a note of anxiety. The smile was not reaching his eyes.

He held out his arms and gave Shadow Milk a sincere smile. “Come here,” he whispered.

At the invitation he had been waiting for, Shadow Milk bolted forward, nearly tackling him to the ground. Arms wrapped around Pure Vanilla’s chest, and then his feet were kicking in the air as the floor fell out below him. He laughed nervously, clinging tightly to his other half as they spun in circles.

“It feels so good to fly,” Shadow Milk laughed.

“I feel nauseous,” Pure Vanilla replied.

“I am never touching the ground again.”

“Please put me back on the ground.”

Shadow Milk sighed and returned them to the floor with an “alright, alright.” When his feet hit the floor, Pure Vanilla took a deep breath. Maybe in the future he could get used to that feeling, but not so quickly. White Lily held out an arm to steady him, and Shadow Milk’s attention turned to her.

“Guardian.”

“Beast.”

After a moment, they shared a terse nod. White Lily smiled at Pure Vanilla and took her leave, rushing to join her friends in their chase. They were left alone again, and Shadow Milk was staring at him with unnervingly sad eyes.

“I amso proud of you,” Pure Vanilla said. “I told you that you could heal this.” He pressed a hand to Shadow Milk’s soul jam and felt the cracks. His magic washed over them both, but he sensed no pain nor rot. The splintered cracks were gently glowing, filled in with shifting colors. Like the mirror. Repaired, but not the same. He bore the evidence of a complicated past. Like the rings of a tree, the evidence of his growth would forever be a part of him. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

“I always hated goodbyes,” Shadow Milk pulled away from him. “It’s the worst part of every story.”

“Goodbyes?”

“The project is over, isn’t it? I got better. You have no reason to allow me to stay.” He was slowly circling in the air. Shadow Milk never could sit still. Not that he would ever want to, but Pure Vanilla would never be able to pin him down.

“I fail to see why that would necessitate a goodbye.”

“I am… not your patient anymore, Nills. You can give the room I was staying in to someone else.”

“No, not as such, but…” Pure Vanilla reached out and brushed a hand over his face. “What I said in the garden has not changed. I want to be with you. I never lied to you about that. Not in the spire, not in the garden. I would like the chance to keep falling in love with you. As many times as it takes to sink in.” It felt like an impossible privilege to say it so openly. There would always be comfort in candor. “There will always be a room for you here, should you want it.”

“And you?”

“And me.” Pure Vanilla smiled. “I will always be waiting for you as well. If you have changed, if you are changing, it means only that I get to know you once more. I cannot tell you how much of an honor that is.” Privately, he reflected on how far they had come. When they had met, Shadow Milk had hidden away the best parts of himself deep in the darkest recesses of his mind. There were things he had done that could not be undone. There had been a time where it had seemed Pure Vanilla could only get halfway closer before his other half retreated. And yet. Every single day, he was better than he was the day before. Even at the very beginning of this charade, he had improved Pure Vanilla’s life. He was healthier now. He was better fed. He took care of himself, he spent more time away from his work. There were new flowers in the garden.

Despite everything they had left to mend, despite the burnt bridges and emotional scars, Shadow Milk did not run when Pure Vanilla stepped closer to him.

Shadow Milk hovered in place. He still looked apprehensive.

Pure Vanilla shifted his hand to hold Shadow Milk’s chin. “May I?”

Shadow Milk leaned into him, and he took a step forward, only to wince at the jolt of pain through his leg. Immediately, his other half pulled away and drifted to his side, steadying him.

“You’re hurt?”

“Only slightly. It will pass.”

“Do you need to sit down? And don’t try any of that invulnerable hero nonsense on me. You know you can’t lie to me anymore.”

Pure Vanilla laughed. “Alright, alright.”

“Your friends have this taken care of. Let me take you back to the castle.” Shadow Milk wrapped his arms around Pure Vanilla’s waist and lifted him into the air. It still caused a spiraling feeling, but he allowed it this once. He let himself be cared for, instead of stubbornly carrying on. With his free hand, he opened a portal to Shadow Milk’s room. Not his room. It hardly occurred to him, but his room had gone largely unused recently. There was dust settling over his bed, he was sure of it. Shadow Milk carried him through and gently guided him to his chair. There was an unfinished game of chess on the table, and plates they had not cleared away. The events of the day were finally settling with him. Dark Enchantress Cookie would be back. There were still other beasts to contend with. The war was not over, nor was Shadow Milk’s redemption truly done, for personal growth had no true ending, but Pure Vanilla felt as though he had conquered a great trial. He was ready to begin the next stage of this. Shadow Milk was hovering over him, watching with those wide eyes.

“You tricked her,” Pure Vanilla commented.

“I took a page out of your book.”

“Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla reached for him. “I am proud of you.”

Shadow Milk bristled, but he did not refute the praise. There was color rising to his cheeks. The beast drifted closer, nose to nose with him.

Pure Vanilla smiled. “You were being sincere in what you said to her, weren’t you?”

“Caught that, did you?”

“It was clever. Sometimes the truth is harder to believe than a lie.” He pressed a kiss to Shadow Milk’s cheek. “But I believe you. And I am glad you’re here.”

Shadow Milk closed the distance. Pure Vanilla was grateful that this moment was private, because Shadow Milk was kissing him like he was starving.

Desperate.

Perhaps he was. Eons of solitude, cold, and silver had taken their toll. Pure Vanilla was none of those things. He was gentle and warm. His patience was a honed skill. No one would deny a cookie food if they were starving. He would no sooner deny comfort to his other half. Hands were tangled in his hair. Tomorrow, there would be more work to be done. He would need to ensure the safety of his people. There were questions he would need to answer. Right now, though, he put his trust in his friends, and savored the moment of peace.

Chapter Text

Dark Cacao Cookie was the first to return home. The ancient heroes stayed for a few days longer, helping Pure Vanilla calm his people, but they had duties, and they could not stay forever. The damage from the cake wolves was minimal, and his people were brave. Duty called his friends home. Before he left, Dark Cacao made a promise that, only months ago, would have seemed incredibly peculiar. He promised Shadow Milk Cookie that he would keep in touch. Before he left, he imparted a few ideas for how to play a better game of chess against Pure Vanilla. Shadow Milk, in turn, said something that felt entirely wrong coming out of his mouth. He told Dark Cacao that he hoped his son would return.

Golden Cheese left next. Pure Vanilla had offered her a place, if she needed it, but she had been insistent. However broken, however ancient, she had a kingdom, and someone needed to keep watch over it. She regarded Shadow Milk with cold acceptance. It was not friendly, but neither was it aggressive. It was simply an acceptance that he was here, now, and regardless of her feelings on the matter, he would stay. She had accepted his alliance, and that would do. They had an enemy in common, and that was something.

Hollyberry had to be made to leave. She was far too eager to spend more time with Pure Vanilla, and Shadow Milk found her Pitaya Dragon to be incredibly good company, much to the chagrin of their respective companions. They got along like a house on fire, as some might say. It was Black Raisin, in the end, who suggested it may be time to return, and Wildberry had given her a very grateful look. Hollyberry and the dragon both left with promises to return again. On her way out the door, Hollyberry had thanked Shadow Milk once again for his help, and had then winked. He was going to miss her company.

Now, they sat in their room—it was their room now. Pure Vanilla had already initiated the arduous process of moving in his desk, along with all of the paperwork within. It felt less like Shadow Milk’s space, but it also carried reminders of how much his life had changed, and in some ways that was better. His deep blue curtains, still embroidered with winking constellations, surrounded the bed, but there were new white pillows that did not quite match the sheets. Propped up against them was a plushie bearing his resemblance. The desk was a mess of letters, paperwork, costume designs, and scripts. There were hyacinths in a vase by the window, and the drapes were open to let the sunlight pour in.

Shadow Milk was sitting in his chair, glaring at the gomoku game in front of him. Pure Vanilla had just cut off the diagonal he thought he was setting up very carefully, and now he had to reevaluate his strategy. The board was nearly filled in at this point, and they were running out of pieces. He had been playing games like this a lot more, properly sitting down and seeing them through. Cheating less. Although he had regained his ability to fly, he found himself resting frequently. It was good for him to stop and smell the flowers. To appreciate his freedom.

“Were you ever interested in art?” Pure Vanilla placed a piece down. He wouldn’t win, that horizontal was already blocked off, but it was a waste of Shadow Milk’s time, and annoying him was clearly the point. Shadow Milk groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Here and there. You saw the collection in the spire.”

“Yes. I admit, I would have liked to see it in its prime—not to insult your interior decorating choices, of course.” Pure Vanilla huffed out a sigh at having his row blocked, as though his aim of being obnoxious had not been incredibly obvious.

You have a row you’re ignoring, the snake hissed. Shadow Milk examined the board again and saw it. If he could place another piece while Pure Vanilla was distracted…

The Compass had been more helpful lately. Less vengeful. It still dripped venom from every word, but when it only reared its head to give backseat advice on board games, it felt less barbed.

“Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering how much you knew about art theory. I have been organizing the library again, and I am currently halfway through the ‘arts’ section.” Pure Vanilla placed a piece in a rather useless position. Shadow Milk stifled a laugh. “You would be pleased. I have somewhat amended my organizational system. In any case, there is a concept I thought might interest you.”

“And what is that?” He just needed to get Pure Vanilla monologuing long enough to secure this win.

“Chiaroscuro. Are you familiar?”

“The Fount likely was. I am not.” He placed his next piece.

“In layman’s terms, I suppose you could call it contrast. In certain periods of art, the contrast between light and dark was emphasized. It produces a rather moody atmosphere, but when it is executed well, the light and dark balance one another out. You cannot have one without the other.” Pure Vanilla started a new row. Excellent. He had not seen Shadow Milk’s play. He was too absorbed in his thoughts, gesturing as he often did. It was always a delight to see him ramble and watch the light glimmer in his eyes, but in this moment it was also a strategic victory.

“Is this another one of your riddles?” Shadow Milk connected his line of four. Now, no matter where Pure Vanilla played, he would not be able to block him from winning. A checkmate of sorts.

“In a manner of speaking. I suppose it made me think of you and I- ah.” A playful smile emerged on his face. “You’ve distracted me, I see.” Futile though it was, he blocked one end of the row.

“How is this for contrast?” Shadow Milk placed his final piece, securing the win. Pure Vanilla was just smiling at him with impossible fondness. It always made him happy to lose, an impulse which Shadow Milk could not fathom. If the point of playing games was not to win, what was?

“Is this one of Dark Cacao’s strategies? Or one of your own?”

“No. His advice sounds more like battle strategy. The man takes his games very seriously. I’m not entirely sure he knows that the king in a game of chess is inanimate.”

“You are not one to speak on that.”

“Hey. I told them I was sorry.” Shadow Milk crossed his arms. It had been quite the ordeal, that. He was lucky Pure Vanilla had decent taste in friends. Any other cookie would have taken his apology as an opportunity to tear him apart, but those kids had just shrugged it off and told him not to do it again. What strange cookies. So long as he was getting better, apparently, they would just let him run free. They seemed to regard him with the distrust generally awarded to a cat eyeing a fragile glass on a high shelf. Though, he had been told that if it ever happened again, they would “kick his butt.”

Yeah. I’d like to see them try.

“You did. And we have lunch with them in a few weeks, so I hope you’re going to play nice. Gingerbrave and his friends have to travel quite a ways to get here.”

“I’m always nice. It’s in my name.”

“It is not.”

“You looooove me.”

“I do. Very much so. And I know you love me, too.”

Shadow Milk picked up one of the pieces and flicked it at him. To his surprise, Pure Vanilla caught it in mid air. His reflexes had gotten better—perhaps a benefit of using the other realm as frequently as he did these days. They both laughed, and he wanted to live in this moment forever. That laughter was the greatest sound in the world, and he would tear the world apart to see that smile again.

“May I ask you something?” Perhaps he should not break the peaceful silence, but his thoughts always nagged at him in silence. It was an exercise of curiosity.

“Always.”

“I am sure I have heard your answer a thousand times, and will hear it one thousand more, but why are you in love with me?”

Pure Vanilla laughed and gave the answer he did any time Shadow Milk asked. “I can’t help it. It is in my nature.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

In the hangar, Shadow Milk was overseeing some mysterious “project” Black Sapphire had told him about. From the gleeful looks on the faces of his former minions, not to mention Strawberry Crepe’s notes being in plain view, he felt right to be a bit worried. Being used as target practice was not his idea of a fun afternoon. He started backing away, and stumbled when Black Raisin snuck up on him.

His new abilities had left him much more away of the world around him, but the eyes in his hair only opened when he shut his eyes, and their vision was not as crystal as it had been. He no longer had panoptic vision of everything around him. Through his magic eyes, the world appeared as a map of lights and heat signatures. Pure Vanilla, in particular, was radiant in the vision of his other eyes. A glimmering kaleidoscope of hues that shifted and radiated.

Black Raisin was always a shadow in his infrared vision, often able to bypass his senses and sneak up on him. If he had been focusing, he could have sensed her waiting for him, but he hadn’t been, and now she was pushing him forward.

“Go on,” she said. “You said you wanted to be more helpful, didn’t you?”

“You are getting far too much enjoyment out of this.”

“I think Pure Vanilla would be happy to see that I am smiling and spending time with my friends. Don’t you?”

She had gotten snarkier with him. It was how they were—she would threaten him, he would threaten her. There was no bitterness in it anymore. They both ended up laughing by the end each time. Despite his new abilities and the return of his power, they still found time to train. It was largely Pure Vanilla’s idea, insisting that it was always wise to be prepared. Out loud, he would claim he was only participating because his sunflower told him to. Privately, he enjoyed the company. She was funny.

“Fine, but only because you asked so nicely.”

Whatever he was expecting, the disembodied arm of a wafflebot slowly hopping towards him was not it. It was, in fact, a little bit disturbing. From him, that was saying something.

“Hey, little guy,” he greeted it. The arm hopped closer, and circled him, and then it stopped at his feet. This was not even remotely what he was expecting.

“Good!” Strawberry Crepe said. “It works. NOW we can really test it.”

Oh, he did not like the looks his friends were giving him right now. He especially did not like that the pipsqueak was pointing the laser of a wafflebot directly at his chest.

“If you all kill me, I’m going to kill you,” he warned.

“Yes, yes, and then make furniture out of our remains, we know,” Black Sapphire drawled.

“You’ll be fiiiine,” Candy Apple insisted. The way she was grinning, he wasn’t so sure.

The laser charged up, and he saw his life flashing behind his eyes. It was taking quite a while. He had lived a long time. The beam started to aim, and Strawberry Crepe was frowning, and then the light spluttered and phased out.

“Alright,” Shadow Milk said. “Wonderful. Are you planning on telling me what you just tested on me?”

“Your composition has changed,” Strawberry Crepe replied, tossing the arm to the side. It made a pathetic mechanical hissing sound and scurried away. “Your composition now has juuust enough vanilla in it to count you as a part of the vanilla kingdom.”

“Oooookay?”

“It’s my work,” Black Sapphire explained. “We wanted a failsafe, in case anyone with ill intentions tries to reprogram the wafflebots.”

“Who on Earthbread would do such a thing?”

“I couldn’t say.” They shared a laugh. “Regardless, these wafflebots will not attack anyone who is from the Vanilla Kingdom.”

“And you decided to use me to test this?”

“You’re in a relationship with the king.” The way Black Sapphire said it, Shadow Milk had a sneaking suspicion that information had made it all the way across Crispia by now. Exactly how many cookies were aware of his new position?

“Objection. That’s irrelevant.”

Black Raisin cut in before they could start bickering in earnest. “Alright. We understand that it works. I think it would be safe to start work on the rest of the wafflebots. Shadow Milk,” she sighed. “Thank you for helping us with this. I’ll see you for sparring practice on Thursday?”

“If I’m not otherwise occupied, yes.”

“Then I will make sure you’re not.”

“Ugh. You are no fun, you know.”

“So I’m told.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

He dreamt of the garden often. It was always warm now, and the sun was almost always shining. In those dreams, he would find the blue door—still chipped, but it didn’t shake so much these days—rest his back against it, and watch the garden move. Everything in nature breathed if you looked close enough. Everything was connected. Trees spoke with one another through complex root networks, grass swayed in the breeze, there was life everywhere he turned his head. Those dreams were always pleasant. Perhaps, if he perused the library, he could find a dream-sharing spell and bring Pure Vanilla into the garden with him.

It was late at night, and Shadow Milk was resting his head on Pure Vanilla’s chest, listening to his breath. There were arms around his shoulders, a pleasant and grounding weight. The dream he was in had faded, but he was just as pleased with where he was now. The soul jam was right there, beside him, the very thing that had begun this whole charade. He scarcely noticed it. Everything he wanted was right here, breathing softly and occasionally murmuring in his sleep. Shadow Milk did not always sleep at night. He no longer needed to, not with his soul jam healed, but the rest kept him alert, and it was an excuse to see how beautiful Pure Vanilla looked in the moonlight. There were faint freckles on his face that were only visible in the silver light.

A harsh sound broke him out of his meditation. Knocking at the door.

How rude.

Indeed. Who would be knocking at this hour?

Pure Vanilla shifted in his sleep and his eyes fluttered open. “Someone at the door?” His voice was always so endearing when he was tired. Honey-sweet and mumbly. Shadow Milk shushed him with a finger over his lips.

“You stay here.” Pure Vanilla pouted at him. The arms around his shoulders turned into a vice, trapping him in place. Shadow Milk shook his head and took on a playfully threatening tone. Shadows dripped down his face, but Pure Vanilla was unbothered. “Someone is waiting, and if I see you walking on your bad leg right now, you’ll have much bigger issues than whoever is at your door.” He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

He received only a hum in response as Pure Vanilla, satisfied, dove back into the duvet. Cute. Shadow Milk slipped out of the covers and drifted over to the door. It swung open slowly.

“Now, what in the world is important enough to pull me away from my other half?” He crossed his arms and put on the perfect face of irritation.

What he saw outside was… unexpected. White Lily Cookie was standing in the doorway. Her staff was in her hands, and she shuffled her feet back and forth as though she wasn’t sure where to put them. Her lips were trembling. Whatever this was, it was not a friendly visit. He could feel the anxiety radiating off of her.

“Shadow Milk.” At least she did not sound homicidal when she said his name these days. She might never forgive him, but they could at least be civil. It was getting better.

“Ah. Shall I wake him?” He could already hear Pure Vanilla snoring again. It was silly. Pure Vanilla was a very light sleeper—unless Shadow Milk was present. Then you could sooner teach a tree to dance before you could wake him. A whole company of trees, even.

“No, I…” She met his gaze. He always found the deep red of her eyes a little bit surreal. Like he could drown in it. “I am actually here to speak with you.” She stepped out into the hallway, and he followed. The door creaked softly shut behind them. She was supposed to be leaving soon, wasn’t she? And she had come to talk to him? Anxiety pooled in his stomach. He wished he had brought Pure Vanilla along with him. They walked in silence for a while, passing the paintings that no longer felt as if they were watching him. These hallways were home now. There was not a tile in this palace he would not recognize. His mind wandered, exploring every possible reason she might have called on him. None of them were pleasant.

Finally, he broke. “I can’t take the quiet anymore. Why did you seek me out?” Silence was comfortable around Pure Vanilla. Around her, it felt like a veiled threat.

She turned and gave him a reproachful glance. “Is this hallway where you’d like to have this conversation?”

“Look, I’m sure this is important, and I respect that, but if you don’t tell me what is going on soon, I am going to assume you’re leading me into a trap.”

Probably wise.

She sighed, looking slightly wounded. He felt the hurt when it hit her. Perhaps that had been a bit unfair. Perhaps he didn’t care.

“Alright. I can accept that.” She produced a small, circular object from her pocket, and it took him a moment to recognize it in the dim light. The model planetarium. The one he had repaired for her. It bore the hallmark of his magic—the cracks where it had broken were glimmering and multicolored. Everything he repaired was made anew. Pure Vanilla found that beautiful, and sometimes Shadow Milk wondered if he played up his astigmatism so that Shadow Milk would fix the dishes he broke. The kitchen was overrun with repaired mugs and plates that shimmered in the light.

“Shadow Milk Cookie.” His attention snapped back to her. With a grave voice, she spoke. “I will tell you why I wanted to speak with you. Please understand that what I am about to say is private. I have not spoken to anyone else about this yet.” She took a deep breath. “In one year, there is going to be an eclipse visible from Beast Yeast.”

The eclipse. When they had spoken about this, Pure Vanilla had promised that he would not be sealed away, that it would never happen. He had promised that no one would seal him away. And now White Lily was telling him about it, openly, as though she had no fear. Whatever game she was playing, it terrified him. She claimed to understand him, and at times it seemed she really did, but he could not understand her motivations at times. Perhaps this was her idea of an olive branch. Rage and fear were boiling underneath the surface of his dough, begging to control him again. The blue door in his mind was splintering. His compass was somewhere in the recesses of his mind, hissing and spitting and ready to bite.

She continued. “In one year’s time, I will attempt to use the eclipse as cover to perform the beast binding ritual.”

“…Why are you telling me this?” He circled her in the air. His breath felt heavy, as though the air had turned to syrup. It was becoming difficult to take in breath. “Are you telling me how much time I have left?”

That was a thought. One year left to enjoy the world before an eternity of nothing.

A hand touched his arm. It was barely a breath of contact, but it brought his attention back. It was gentle. “Shadow Milk, I will not seal you away. I swear that. I do not think I could ever regard you as a friend, but I can see you as an ally. You love one of my dearest friends, and I will not hurt him by taking you away. I will not do to him what was done to me.”

Yes. That was one choice he could never mend. He could not even call it a mistake. The faerie king had been captor, warden, and betrayer to him. Though he had been a dear friend to White Lily, Shadow Milk could not find it in him to call it a mistake. All the greatest orators and authors spoke of the burden of revenge, of the way it haunted and lingered. Revenge was a malignant thing. Perhaps he had not reached that point in his recovery. Perhaps he never would, and White Lily might always hate him for that. When she spoke of him, he could feel her sorrow and her grief. Her love. The way they tore her apart. He had done that, and he had not apologized. He might never apologize.

And… she was offering him grace.

“And my colleagues?”

She nodded. “If, before the eclipse, any of my friends report that they feel their other half has been redeemed… they, too, will be spared.”

“And if they haven’t been redeemed? What then?”

Yes, he had mostly won the ancient heroes over. Would his colleagues be so capable? It had been a long, long time since he had seen them all in times of peace. It had not been him to know them, not really. That was the Fount. And that was lifetimes ago. After everything he had done, after the role he had played in their corruption, he found it doubtful they would listen to him.

“You have changed, Shadow Milk Cookie. You are capable of change. If you can change, perhaps you can change their minds, as well.”

“And if I can’t?”

“You have one year.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

When he returned to their room, Pure Vanilla welcomed him back into bed with a very sleepy, comfortable smile. His joy was infectious; Shadow Milk could feel his fondness. The duvet was heavy. The moonlight was gently filtering in. Warmth settled over him and gently pulled him towards sleep. Pure Vanilla was quick to nestle into the curve of Shadow Milk’s neck and wrap his arms around him, but not before pressing several fluttering kisses to his cheeks. So doting.

Slightly slurring his words, Pure Vanilla murmured, “is everything alright?”

“It’s alright, shhh.” Shadow Milk kissed his forehead. This gentleness was still new to him, but in time he had found it more rewarding than anger. “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Soon, how would you feel about a visit to the Hollyberry Kingdom? I think your friend and I have some things to discuss.”