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Chapter Text

Dark Cacao refused to admit that his son’s return had anything to do with his mental decline.

It had been a month since Dark Choco had returned, much to the king’s great joy. It was undeniably, inarguably the best thing to happen to him in decades. Now Dark Cacao had the opportunity to repent for his poor parenting choices, to make everything right again. Words couldn’t describe how ready he was to make amends with his son. Both cookies had made grievous mistakes, but Dark Cacao didn’t have the heart to stay angry at the boy he’d taught how to wield his sword, the boy who’d always meant the world to him.

If he just showed Dark Choco some love and appreciation now, Dark Cacao would free himself from the crushing guilt that weighed him down more and more each day. A small smile here, a nod of approval there…that was all it took to right his wrongs. His plan was foolproof, or so he thought.

But Dark Cacao found himself doubting every loving gesture, each kind word. He had to be very careful; he couldn’t mess everything up again, not when his son could flee at any time. If Dark Choco left again or attacked Dark Cacao, the bitter king didn’t know what he’d do. 

Every day, Dark Cacao felt a little less confident that he could redeem himself from his mistakes. Dark Choco deserved better than such a sorry excuse for a father. After all, his early years had been loveless, and he was permanently scarred because of it. Dark Choco carried himself in a way that suggested he, too, carried a heavy weight on his shoulders; he took after his father. And both cookies knew exactly whose fault that was. The son’s shortcomings reflected upon the father, after all.

So, perhaps, in some respects, Dark Choco’s return brought back the guilt Dark Cacao had carefully suppressed since his son’s first attack. And now, his once-latent misery exploded without warning, shattering the poor cookie’s fragile heart. 

Much to his own dismay, Dark Cacao had made a habit of collapsing inside his chambers with little warning, shaking profusely as he clutched the spot where his son first struck him with the Strawberry Jam Sword. Visions of battles with Dark Choco lingered just behind his eyes, right alongside memories of teaching the young warrior how to fight. He constantly worried Dark Choco would leave again, or burst into his chambers and stab him before he had the chance to react (he deserved it, anyway.) At the end of the day, everything Dark Choco had done was Dark Cacao’s fault, in one way or another. 

Dark Cacao needed to atone for his misdeeds toward his son, and he would go to great lengths to prove to himself that he regretted what he’d done. This mindset, unfortunately, led to the resurgence of a… particularly unpleasant habit he’d developed in his youth. After years upon years of being clean, he started cutting himself again, hoping to mangle his dough beyond comprehension as a physical symbol of his regret. He would torture himself until he crumbled if it meant he could rid himself of the guilt that grew more suffocating every time he stopped to think.

Dark Cacao’s treatment of Dark Choco in his earlier years wasn’t the only thing he hurt himself for. There was also his kingdom, which he’d completely neglected by shutting himself away behind the castle walls. The Dark Flour War had destroyed the great warrior that once was, and all that was left was a scared husk of a cookie. He was afraid, ashamed, and guilty, and he couldn’t stand idly by and do nothing about his grievous errors. So he would slice his dough until his hands shook and his head spun, because nobody knew the full extent of his sins. Only he could give himself what he truly deserved.

It was essential that Dark Cacao kept this habit of his contained. If anybody were to find out, some would call him emotionally unstable; many would call him insane and unfit to rule. He worked diligently to hide the outbursts littered across his dough, but one failure was all it took to reveal his sorry mental state. 

After a particularly vicious quarrel with Dark Choco, Dark Cacao excused himself to his sleeping quarters to punish himself for his recklessness. By that point, he’d already forgotten what the argument was about; probably something to do with fortifications for the castle walls. But he realized now that it didn’t matter. After all, Dark Choco could have left at any moment during that argument, realized that being in the Dark Cacao Kingdom with his father was not worth the occasional bitter quarrels.

As he sat against the floor, pressed against a wall, Dark Cacao grasped a small dagger with the power and intensity of a determined warrior. He took one slow breath before he began his ritual. Jabbing the dagger into his arm, he pulled it across as fast as he could, gritting his teeth as the incisions gaped and throbbed. He breathed in and out methodically as he sliced, each cut deeper than the last.

All Dark Cacao wanted was to atone for his wrongdoings, but somewhere deep inside, he knew nothing would ever be enough. He cut until his hands were too shaky to continue, only deciding to stop when he could no longer grasp the blade. Slipping onto the floor limply, Dark Cacao groaned softly, closing his eyes tightly in an attempt to ignore the pain. He lay there for a couple of minutes, wishing he could push his feelings so far back that they disappeared forever. 

As dark red jam streamed from angry, fresh incisions in his already tender dough, Dark Cacao heard a heavy knock on his door, followed by his son’s low, raspy voice. “Um… I’ve cooled off a bit, I’d like to talk about our argument earlier…May I come in?”

Dark Cacao tried to suppress the panic in his tone. “Give me a moment, my boy,” he replied weakly, preparing to push himself into a sitting position. He offered no further elaboration, but hoped Dark Choco would allow him enough time to clean up the puddle of jam that was now caked into the roll wood floors of his room. He tried to stand up abruptly, but had lost so much blood that he was uneasy on his feet. After frantically trying to take hold on the wall beside him, he failed and crashed to the floor. A sizable thud echoed from the room, and Dark Choco knocked again at the door.

“Father? Are you ok?”

Dark Cacao tried to respond, but he felt himself growing shakier by the second. Pressing against his most prominent wounds to halt the jam loss, he tried to assure his son that he would just be a moment. His words didn’t come out loud enough, and Dark Choco’s tone grew more anxious as he knocked one final time. “You’re worrying me. I apologize, but I’m coming in…”

When the door opened, Dark Choco was met with a sight he was most certainly not prepared for: His father, his strong, cold, stoic father, lay on the floor with an empty expression and deep incisions across his arms, jam rapidly spreading across the floor. He had obviously tried to cover up the wounds by rolling his sleeves back down, but that just caused the jam to seep through.

It didn’t take Dark Choco more than a couple of seconds to piece together what had happened. Trying to ignore the implications of his father’s current state, he jumped into action, rummaging around in drawers and cabinets until he found cloth that was suitable for bandaging. He grabbed a medkit from his room nearby, making sure he was fast enough that Dark Cacao couldn’t run away. As he cleaned the wounds, Dark Choco tried to ignore how his father pulled back in embarrassment every time he tried to steady his arm. 

After his father’s injuries were adequately bandaged, Dark Choco looked down at the seemingly emotionless cookie. He stayed eerily quiet, unwilling to look his son in the eye after what he’d done. 

Afraid to break the silence, Dark Choco sat beside his father wordlessly, surveying his stoic expression. Dark Cacao didn’t look any sadder than normal, and yet here he was, dough littered in wounds caused by his own hand. 

 Dark Choco knew he couldn’t just ignore his father’s injuries, but it wouldn’t do much good to have a conversation about it in his current condition.  He decided he would come back later, once Dark Cacao was fit to discuss what he had done. What he needed now was some rest.

“...It may not be my place to ask this, but… are you alright? I do not think I can ignore this. I will worry about you.”

Not expecting a response, Dark Choco was surprised when his father spoke up. His normally powerful, gruff voice was weak and shaky, a far cry from anything Dark Choco had ever heard from him before. “I am fine. Leave me,” he barked weakly, pushing himself up from the floor and scowling. 

After a brief but careful consideration, Dark Choco decided to heed his father’s wishes. He trusted Dark Cacao wouldn’t do anything reckless with a whole kingdom relying on him. The bitter cookie’s injuries were severe, but they weren’t deadly, and Dark Choco didn’t know how to discuss the situation at hand right now. 

Though he was worried about his father, Dark Choco nodded, discreetly snatching the jam-covered dagger off the floor as he rose. “We need to talk about this once you are healed, Father,” he said, shoving the weapon into his pocket before lightly closing the door behind him. As soon as his son left, Dark Cacao crumpled into himself, overcome with sadness and remorse.

Chapter Text

Dark Cacao was somewhat relieved to be left alone with his thoughts after the threat of an emotional confrontation subsided. Yet, the shame he had pushed into the back of his mind when his son entered tripled in potency, and Dark Cacao felt uncharacteristic tears threatening to spill. How could he let his son see him in such a moment of weakness? How could he be so foolish? He should be ashamed of himself, of his lack of control over his circumstances and his own body. He was supposed to be a beacon of strength, not an example of how low one could fall. What if Dark Choco blamed himself for Dark Cacao’s pathetic emotional reaction to arguments?

After lazily cleaning and properly bandaging his wounds, Dark Cacao scrubbed the floor where all his jam had spilled. There was still a slight red tint to the floorboards once he was done, but nobody would notice from afar. There was nothing more he could do to lessen the damage done, but he wasn’t bothered much by it. All Dark Cacao wanted to do now was sleep. Thinking about the conversation his son had promised before he left made him sick to his stomach and overcome with shame. The only things he could hear when he closed his eyes were guilty murmurs, accompanied by a sickening fear that Dark Choco would take measures to prevent Dark Cacao from harming himself in the future.

Dark Cacao pondered how he would explain his reckless actions to his son. He didn’t want Dark Choco to believe his return caused the habit to surface, but couldn’t think of a convincing enough lie to keep the blame solely on his irrationality. Maybe, hopefully, he could just claim he was miserable for no reason and scrape by without an explanation.

As worried as Dark Cacao was about the future confrontation, he was also exhausted. Between the jam loss and violently draining breakdown, he struggled to keep his eyes open. The weary man nodded off within minutes and stayed asleep for more than twelve hours, perhaps subconsciously trying to avoid the discussion that loomed over him.

Strangely, the next time he saw Dark Choco, the incident was not brought up. Perhaps he had forgotten? Maybe he realized it was none of his business. Dark Cacao tried his best to avoid being caught alone with his son for nearly a week, but the discomfort lifted easily as time passed. He pushed the incident to the back of his mind, no longer worried about talking with his son for fear of explaining his... less pleasant behaviors.

Maybe that was all part of Dark Choco’s plan to catch him off guard, give him nowhere to run. One particularly boring afternoon, as Dark Cacao absentmindedly paced in his study, Dark Choco appeared with a solemn expression. “Father, I think we need to talk.” His voice seemed unsteady, thick with sadness and worry. Dark Cacao found himself avoiding his son’s gaze. Being caught off guard left him no excuse to avoid the conversation, and his heart began to pound violently, threatening to tear itself from his chest. 

Dark Cacao continued to pace, and Dark Choco sat down at his father’s desk, staring up at him. He found himself unable to respond to his son’s statement, a painful lump cementing itself inside his throat. “I worry about your… self-destructive habits.”

Dark Choco paused for a moment, not really expecting a response but uncertain what to say. “I just… I know you’re probably not keen on talking about it, but I will not be able to sleep at night knowing you do this to yourself.” Tears welled up in Dark Choco’s eyes, and his voice grew strained and shaky.

“Please, father, can you just tell me why you're hurting yourself? I know it might not be my place to be concerned, given our past, but I cannot stand to see you suffer.”

Dark Cacao crumpled to the ground with a dull thud, staring at the floorboards with an unmatched intensity to ward off tears that threatened to spill. His shaking worsened, but he still could not find it in himself to speak. It was all his fault. He should have hidden his struggle better; he should have expected this conversation to come. Words couldn’t describe the shame and guilt he felt as he knelt on the floor, avoiding his son’s worried gaze.

“I can’t help but think… This is somehow my fault.” Dark Choco anxiously pulled on his hair as he fought to keep his voice steady. I know my presence here must be causing you a lot of pain. If I must, I’ll go back to wandering across Crispia, if it means you won’t do this to yourself any longer. I understand if you would prefer it that way.”

Nothing could have prepared Dark Cacao for such an awful proposition. He stared at his son in silent horror, his heart stinging with an unusual ferocity. “What? No… no, this isn’t your fault. How could you think…” Dark Cacao fell silent, unable to fully process what he felt. He gripped his bandaged arm with an unmatched ferocity, hoping the protests of pain from the angry wounds would ground him. Dark Choco rushed over to his father and tore his arm away, throwing himself into his father’s arms to keep him from aggravating his injuries. 

“Please, stop it,” he sobbed, looking into his father’s eyes with the softest gaze he could muster. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”

Finally, Dark Cacao found it in himself to say something. He could not look his own son in the eye because he was nothing but a pathetic coward , but he was at least able to respond to his pleas. “Please, don’t leave again, my son. I… I am merely trying to repent for my mistakes.” As he spoke, he exhaled heavily, the mere thought of opening up a seemingly insurmountable task. "You are a good son, but I failed as both a father and a king. I do not deserve to bear the burden of a leader.”

Dark Choco sobbed harder into his father’s shoulder, his anguished cries muffled by soft fabric. Dark Cacao couldn’t stop himself from muttering, “I pushed you to grow to be a mighty warrior. And you fulfilled my expectations with ease, but the cost was immense. You have suffered greatly, and it is my fault.”

Vehemently opposed to this claim, Dark Choco abruptly pushed himself upwards and wiped his teary eyes. “How could you possibly think that? We both know I struck you first. I admit I once resented you for the way you raised me, but your intentions were always good. None of what happened is your fault, Father.”

Dark Cacao opened his mouth to protest, but Dark Choco stopped him before he could speak. “Please… stop hurting yourself. I may not understand why you would do such a thing, but I do know that you don’t deserve this. You are trying your best, both as a king and as my father, and I am certain there is not a single cookie that could do any better.”

Suddenly, Dark Cacao doubled over onto his hands and knees, erupting into powerful sobs which reverberated throughout his entire body. He looked down at the floor, ashamed, even as he gasped for air and wiped his eyes frantically. It was as if the dam he had spent so long building up to repress his emotions collapsed, revealing the broken cookie hidden beneath a powerful facade. Dark Choco was caught by surprise, only accustomed to blank stoicism from his father.

Tears ran down Dark Cacao’s face and dripped silently onto the floor as Dark Choco helplessly watched, equal parts surprised and horrified. His father's cries almost sounded like he was choking on gravel, fighting viciously in an attempt to quiet down again. His breathing grew heavy, and his arms shook as he supported his heaving body. “I’m so sorry for this,” Dark Cacao's eyes seemed to say, but he was too overwhelmed to apologize for his outburst. Dark Choco rushed to comfort his father, hugging him as tightly as he could. It was like he was afraid the sobbing cookie would shatter into a million pieces if he let go.

In that moment, Dark Cacao fought the urge to tell his son everything. How, after Dark Choco attacked him for the first time, he neglected to properly care for the wound, secretly hoping that maybe it would become so infected it would kill him. How he pushed his agony into the back of his mind, focusing on ruling the kingdom but ignoring his potent urge to jump into the Licorice Sea, where he could sink to the bottom and never be seen again. All he wanted to do was crumble, but he bore the burden of a king. He had lived for his subjects for too long and had forgotten how to live for himself.

The hug between father and son lasted for what felt like an eternity, until Dark Cacao calmed down enough to form words. He was ashamed that he subjected his son to his burdens, but at least he could relish in the fact that he didn’t speak of his unpleasant ideations. Dark Cacao cleared his throat quickly before standing up and dusting his nightwear off as nonchalantly as he could manage.

“I apologize for my outburst. I should be comforting you, not the other way around.” How could he be so idiotic, to burden his son with issues that didn’t concern him? 

“Father, don’t be irrational. It’s no trouble, I know you would do the same for me,” Dark Choco paused as he stood up, letting Dark Cacao process his message before he continued. “Can you promise me you will try your best not to… hurt yourself again? I was so scared, Father. If I lost you right after coming home, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Dark Cacao knew he couldn’t promise such a ludicrous thing. Still, he found himself nodding solemnly, even though his heart screamed in protest. He wasn’t one to break a promise, but his son simply wouldn’t understand all the ways he needed to repent. Upon seeing his father’s gesture of agreement, Dark Choco hugged his father one final time, a much briefer gesture this time. Then, he left the room, closing the door behind him carefully, leaving Dark Cacao alone once more.

Dark Cacao tried to abstain from cutting for a little while, just to calm his son’s worries. He practiced happier expressions in the mirror, hoping that some of that experience would alleviate his constant pained, absentminded stares. But it didn’t take long for him to fall back on his old habits. He hadn’t meant to keep the promise to Dark Choco, anyway. He felt guilty about a lot of things, but what he did to his own body was certainly not one of them. 

Chapter Text

For nearly a month, Dark Cacao tried not to lose control of his habits. He didn’t want his son discovering him again in such a sorry state; the guilt would be crushing, and he’d feel terrible revealing his empty promise. Still, some part of him had to have known he was bound to forget how close he was to needing a healer last time. 

Sometimes, Dark Cacao just had bad days. There were times when he couldn’t explain why his guilt made his heart ache with a primal intensity. It was just a fact of life that sometimes living felt particularly tedious. The days grew draining and painful, and the evenings were plagued with nightmares. There was nothing he could do about it. Dark Cacao didn't have any reason to start cutting with a dangerous intensity again. He just felt a little worse; he was driven off the edge so easily. 

Kneeling on the floor with shaky hands and an aching heart, Dark Cacao refused to consider abstaining from this habit. How could he, after all he’d done? He deserved to suffer beyond comprehension for neglecting his kingdom, his denizens, and his son.

This time, Dark Cacao clutched the blade a little harder, drove it a little deeper into his dough. He wasn’t afraid of the pain anymore; he knew he would bounce back from whatever damage he caused, just like every other time he’d done this. But he was wrong. As he carelessly slashed at his exposed dough once more, he realized something had changed. The sharp, almost cathartic sting of the blade felt different, more dangerous. He had made a mistake, gone a little too far, and now, viscous jam streamed freely from his arms and torso, staining everything it touched. His heart was far too heavy, and his head was far too light. An intense lethargy dulled the pain he sought so fervently, and before he knew it, Dark Cacao had collapsed on the floor. 

With a sense of unmatched urgency and acute panic, Dark Cacao applied as much pressure as he possibly could to the largest of his wounds. He needed to try to stay conscious for as long as possible to prevent himself from losing too much jam. The only thing Dark Cacao could think of as he lay on the floor, helplessly praying to the Witches that he would not die from his awful vice, was how betrayed Dark Choco would feel knowing his father failed to keep his promise. 

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Dark Choco hadn’t seen the king since last afternoon, and he was beginning to worry. It was almost noon, and with each passing minute, Dark Choco grew more concerned about his father’s whereabouts. Dark Cacao very rarely rose after 10:00, citing a plethora of kingly responsibilities he had to attend to each morning. This was the first time since Dark Choco came home that he had witnessed this infrequent occurrence, and it made him more anxious than he cared to admit. 

After seeing his father’s self-inflicted injuries the month prior, Dark Choco couldn’t help but worry that something of that nature had happened again. He knew it was probably stupid; his father wouldn’t break a promise. But the persistent gnawing feeling in his chest convinced him to at least knock on the door to Dark Cacao’s chambers. It wouldn’t hurt to at least make sure he was alright,

Skillfully navigating through the castle hallways, Dark Choco made it to his father’s room within a few minutes. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door, his hands quivering slightly. “Father, are you awake?” he asked, trying to keep his tone steady. “It’s nearly afternoon.”

No response. Dark Choco’s heartbeat quickened, his mind racing. Images of his father, sticky jam dripping down his shaking arms, flashed through his head. He knocked again, muttering to himself, “You can’t worry me like this, not after last time.” When that elicited no response, he made the quick decision to barge in. He had every right to be worried.

He was met with a sight even worse than before. Where his father shakily pushed himself upward last month, he lay unconscious now, his wounds uncovered. It appeared he'd attempted to tie a makeshift tourniquet and failed; a loosely wrapped piece of fabric lay atop his arm, right next to a pen he’d likely used as an improvised windlass. His injuries were far more severe than last time; fresh cuts atop scarred dough made the jam loss deadly. 

Dark Choco didn’t know how long his father had lain there, on the brink of death. All he knew was that he needed somebody to treat his wounds, and fast. And he didn't have the medical skills necessary to do any more than postpone his father's crumbling. Trying to stay calm, Dark Choco quickly completed the improvised tourniquet Dark Cacao had started before mirroring the same device on his other arm. The exposed cuts on the bitter cookie's abdomen were less severe, so the prince left those untouched for now. He couldn't bear to look at the scar he'd given his father with the Strawberry Jam Sword, anyway.

In a frenzy, Dark Choco dashed from his father's chambers, heart racing. He had to find the only cookie he could trust to keep quiet about Dark Cacao's situation: Caramel Arrow. And time was of the essence. Frantically speeding through the castle grounds, Dark Choco begged anybody he came across for the First Watcher's whereabouts. When cookies questioned why he was in such a rush, he ignored them, focused only on helping Dark Cacao. He would never forgive himself if he were too slow, unable to save his father.

Words couldn’t describe the relief Dark Choco felt when he finally found Caramel Arrow standing diligently atop the castle walls. She saw his panicked expression and immediately jumped into action, ready to help wherever necessary. All Dark Choco could choke out was that his father was injured and needed healing immediately. He knew Caramel Arrow had enough medical knowledge to at least stabilize Dark Cacao for the time being, and she was the only one who would most certainly keep quiet about the cause.

The two rushed back to the king’s room in a frenzy, running faster than either of them ever had before. Caramel Arrow was the first to enter the room, with Dark Choco trailing behind, fatigued from his initial journey to find the loyal archer. 

Seeing Dark Cacao in his sorry state, Caramel Arrow gasped loudly. She realized the implication of her King’s wounds, but would have never imagined His Majesty would succumb to such a vice. There was no time to be shocked now, though; right now Dark Cacao desperately needed his wounds treated. Caramel Arrow patched her king up as best as she could, disinfecting and stitching his most severe wounds while Dark Choco sobbed dully behind her. There was only so much she was capable of without healing magic. Predicting Dark Cacao would need somebody to talk to when he awoke, Dark Choco sent an urgent message to Pure Vanilla detailing Dark Cacao’s situation. It was a lot to ask for him to make the journey all the way to the Dark Cacao Kingdom, but they both had faith that he would agree upon hearing of his friend’s situation.

It would take a couple of days for Pure Vanilla to receive the letter and arrive by train, so until then, it was up to Dark Choco and Caramel Arrow to keep the king stable. They chose not to move him to the infirmary, instead keeping him in his room to hopefully hide his condition from nosy cookies. Dark Cacao would be mortified if he looked weak in front of his subjects; it might even worsen his current mental state.

Dark Choco took over his father’s responsibilities while the king was incapacitated. He told the Dark Cacao Cookies their king had come down with a severe illness and would return to the throne within a week or two. The prince could only do so much, overcome with worry for his father, but he vowed to persevere. After all, Dark Cacao would have undoubtedly done the same in his position. He didn’t have to be perfect, but as long as he tried, everything would turn out alright.

Chapter Text

Dark Cacao awoke to find himself in his bed with freshly bandaged wounds and Caramel Arrow staring down at him with an unreadable expression. To her left was Dark Choco Cookie, who looked miserable and exhausted. Both cookies seemed surprised to see their king conscious. 

An uncomfortable quiet filled the room as Dark Cacao pieced together what had happened. He tried to keep his expression steady, but his shame was palpable. Dark Choco stared at him with disdain, while Caramel Arrow averted her eyes from the king. Nobody seemed to know what to say, but the silence was becoming unbearable.

Caramel Arrow was the first to speak. “My King… What happened?”

The real question was left unsaid: What possessed him to do such a thing to himself, knowing he had a whole kingdom to rule? How could he abandon his loyal subjects like this? This was not the time to be soft-spoken, Dark Cacao knew. But he didn’t know how to explain himself.

“I did not expect it would get this bad,” he spoke, fighting the misery that threatened to seep through his tone. “I had no intention of… abandoning the kingdom.” Dark Cacao stared into Caramel Arrow’s eyes with a practiced emptiness, wincing when they reflected his own pathetic form. Caramel Arrow looked horrified.

“Didn’t think it would get this bad,” she almost yelled, but stifled her tone at the last minute, “Your Majesty, I mean no disrespect when I say this, but it has been that bad for a long time, judging from the extent of your injuries.”

“I had it under control,” Dark Cacao growled, his tone growing more defensive. Gritting his teeth, he added, “This was just a small mishap.”

Dark Choco finally butted in, his tone unusually abrasive. “A small mishap?! Father, we nearly lost you. I thought… I thought I was too late. You cannot keep doing this.”

“How long was I unconscious? Does anybody else know what happened?” Dark Cacao asked, partially because he wanted to change the subject, but also because he was concerned about how Dark Choco and Caramel Arrow approached the situation.

“Nearly three days,” Caramel Arrow said, her voice slightly shaky. “Nobody knows what happened. We told everybody you were sick. That’s why you’re not in the infirmary right now.” The anxious warrior coughed, buying herself some preparation time before she had to relay the next piece of information. She knew Dark Cacao would be very unhappy upon hearing what she and Dark Choco had done, but there was no way she could keep it from him any longer. “We had to send a letter requesting Pure Vanilla’s assistance. He was the only one we could trust to keep quiet.”

“You WHAT?” Dark Cacao yelled, equal parts furious and afraid. Pure Vanilla already had enough on his plate without Dark Cacao’s issues; it was unfair to burden him with this. 

“You need to discuss… what you’ve done with somebody. You obviously don’t hold your promises to me in high regard, so we had to find somebody you wouldn’t lie to.” Dark Choco spat out the last part of the sentence, his anger and hurt toward his father evident.

Dark Cacao knew he owed his son an apology. He’d made a mistake, and he regretted it dearly. “Caramel Arrow, you are dismissed.”

Caramel Arrow nodded quietly and walked toward the door, leaving Dark Cacao and his son alone. Neither of them was willing to bear the silence. Before Dark Choco could say anything, Dark Cacao cut him off and began to speak. “My son, I am sorry. I… regret the circumstances that led me here.”

Dark Choco looked disgusted. “You never intended to keep your promise, did you?” Dark Cacao tried to protest the accusation, but he knew his son was right. Dark Choco continued, “Do you not understand that this hurts me just as much as it hurts you? You say this is the punishment for your failures as a parent and king, yet you hurt both your kingdom and me more through your outbursts.” 

Dark Choco grew angrier and angrier, but he tried to keep himself from yelling. “I was so scared, Father. Not just because I’m not prepared to rule this kingdom in your absence, but because I would never forgive myself for idly standing by if you died by your own hand.”

Although he didn’t want to admit it, Dark Cacao realized his son was right. He could not let himself die of his vice and leave his kingdom and Dark Choco behind. It took nearly a minute of charged silence for him to muster up the courage to admit his fault. “You may not think it now, but I know you are prepared to take my place, my son. Nonetheless, I realize now that perhaps you are right about one thing,” Dark Cacao admitted, staring at the wooden frame of the bed as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. He couldn’t bear to look his son in the eye; it might lead to tears he wasn’t willing to shed. “I simply find it hard to ignore the feeling that trying my hardest is inadequate. I carry the inescapable weight of all my mistakes. I know you understand the feeling.”

Dark Choco nodded, his expression softening. “Just trying your best is enough, Father. I do not doubt that nobody could rule this kingdom with as much dedication as you.”

Dark Cacao looked up at his son, whose expression was saturated with worry and understanding. “I cannot help but feel that my… issues will be hard to overcome. But, you have my word, I fully intend to keep my promise this time.” Dark Choco nodded, his relief evident. He nodded and hugged his father wordlessly before pulling away. “Pure Vanilla will need to have a discussion with you,” he said, sounding regretful. Dark Cacao winced, but nodded. “He sent a letter confirming he was on his way yesterday.”

That meant he would likely be here tomorrow if he traveled by train. Dark Cacao didn’t want to think of the conversation he would be required to participate in. He couldn’t help but feel burdensome; Pure Vanilla had a kingdom of his own to worry about. 

Dark Choco abruptly interjected that unpleasant train of thought. “I’m sure you understand I’ll be back to check on you throughout the day. I removed all the sharp objects from your room, so don’t bother looking for anything.”

Dark Cacao wanted to scream. He should be ashamed of himself; he was a great warrior and could no longer be trusted with sharp objects in his possession. How utterly pitiful. Sensing his father’s dismay, Dark Choco added, “I don’t mean to infantilize you… It is really for my own peace of mind.” 

Ignoring the unpleasant lump in his throat, Dark Cacao nodded. He understood his son’s worry; under less dire circumstances, he might have fallen back on such habits once more. After seeing his father’s gesture of understanding, Dark Choco walked toward the door, but paused before he left. “I love you, father,” he choked out, the gesture of affection foreign on his tongue. 

“And I, you,” Dark Cacao replied, similarly unfamiliar with such emotional transparency. He supposed he’d thrown stoicism aside throughout the past couple weeks, anyway.

Chapter Text

Dark Cacao heard his son peek his head in his room more times than he cared to admit. Each time, he pretended he was fast asleep, even though there was no way he would be able to rest right now. The interaction with Pure Vanilla loomed over him, punctuating his sleepless night with worry. This was the first time they would see each other outside of political events in decades, and the circumstances were less than ideal.

Whenever he heard his door creak open, Dark Cacao felt a renewed wave of shame and regret. He didn’t intend to cause his son so much pain. That was all he did: hurt people. He was too cold and too stoic, too imperfect. He knew it was irrational to be a flawless leader, but he still expected it of himself all the same. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw how much better everybody would be without him. How could he be such a terrible leader? How could he build a kingdom from the ground only to destroy it with frivolous emotional issues? He didn’t have time to mope around; he had to be there for his subjects.

Though he didn’t care to admit it, Dark Cacao spent the whole night shakily sobbing. He quieted himself down every time he heard the door creak open, but there was simply no way he could hold back his impending emotional collapse any longer. He felt as if he was shutting down, torn between his desire to protect his kingdom and to atone for his poor leadership. His resolve was supposed to be unmatched, so why did he want to die so badly and leave his kingdom behind?

Dark Choco’s reassurances the day prior had left him completely. His self-loathing grew with each passing moment; he hated himself for breaking under the weight of the heavy burden he carried. As dawn broke, Dark Cacao found himself pacing across his room, his injured arms still aching. The urge to punish himself for his wrongdoings lingered in his hands, but he fought it off as best as he could. When did he become so reliant on hurting himself?

Whenever Dark Cacao stopped paying attention to his actions, he found himself clawing at his bandages. It felt as if his hands were operating of their own accord, trying to tear his dough apart before he could even notice what was happening. Each time, the determined cookie tore his hand away, trying to ignore how right the painful stinging felt. He had to remember his promise. He couldn’t let his vice get the best of him, couldn’t let it get any worse than it already had. 

A lingering sentiment in the back of his mind told him it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he just showed some restraint while cutting this time. But he wouldn’t let himself forget that he clearly wasn’t capable of holding back as much as he thought he could. If he continued down this path, one day he would go too far and not wake up again. That thought scared him into submission, resonated with him just enough to prevent him from seeking out a blade. 

He didn’t have much faith that he’d ever fully recover, but Dark Cacao was willing to try his best, for his son and for his kingdom. And at the end of the day, that was what really mattered.

Chapter Text

Pure Vanilla stood outside his old friend’s door, pacing wildly and nervously adjusting his cloak. The healer had rushed to the Dark Cacao Kingdom as soon as he’d gotten the letter explaining the king’s circumstances. Now, he wasn’t sure what to do about it. Dark Cacao was the last cookie he thought would ever be in such an unfavorable mental state, especially with his impressive resolve. 

His fist lingered an inch away from the door for what felt like an eternity. As much as he wished he had all the time in the world to contemplate this discussion, he couldn’t overthink it, lest he just end up avoiding the conversation altogether. His friend needed help; Pure Vanilla had to be there for him, even if it was a little intimidating.

Taking a deep breath, Pure Vanilla knocked on the door softly, not wanting to scare his bitter friend. The door opened almost instantly, as if Dark Cacao had been waiting just as anxiously inside his room. When he saw Pure Vanilla, he winced subtly, his hands trembling. 

Something about Dark Cacao’s somber demeanor made Pure Vanilla’s heart ache. How long had his friend suffered silently, unwilling to confide in anybody? Upon being gestured in, Pure Vanilla awkwardly stood in the center of the room. It had been a long time since either cookie had seen the other in person, and the circumstances of this visit were not the most pleasant. Dark Cacao carefully sat down on his bed, gesturing for Pure Vanilla to sit beside him. The bitter cookie tugged at his fluffy robe, appearing just as anxious as Pure Vanilla felt.

The uncomfortable silence lasted longer than either cookie cared to admit. A difficult discussion was to be had, and neither of them wanted to start it. But Pure Vanilla was here, first and foremost, to heal his friend’s wounds, so he knew he had to speak up. 

“May I see your injuries?” he asked softly, his expression growing concerned as he watched Dark Cacao practically crumple into himself. With an embarrassed cough, he shrugged off his robe, revealing baggy nightwear underneath. He rolled up his sleeves, uncovering his bandaged arms. Dark Cacao averted his eyes from Pure Vanilla, ashamed of what he’d done.

Pure Vanilla quickly got to work undoing the tight bandaging on his friend’s arms, revealing the severity of his wounds. During his time as a healer, he had seen many self-inflicted injuries, but Dark Cacao was the last person he would’ve expected them on. He knew the cuts were bad, almost fatal, but that didn’t make the sight of them any less jarring.

Pure Vanilla ignored the powerful ache in his heart and directed his attention toward his healing magic. He quickly patted flour over Dark Cacao's arms, ignoring how his apprehensive friend tried to pull away from his warm, golden touch. As a soft light erupted from the healer's staff, dough knitted over itself and deep wounds closed, leaving neatly mended purple scars. Under different circumstances, Pure Vanilla may have stopped to admire his skillful work, but the sight of the deep gashes on his friend’s arms made him sick to the stomach. 

After exhausting his magic, Pure Vanilla rebandaged Dark Cacao’s arms before turning to survey his friend’s expression. The warrior looked so small compared to when he charged into battle, fearlessly wielding his Grapejam Chocoblade. Pure Vanilla placed his hand on Dark Cacao’s shaking shoulders. “I’m so sorry, my friend. I… didn’t know you were going through so much all alone.” His voice wavered, and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. He was never as stoic as his bitter friend; he couldn’t easily bottle up his emotions. “I’m here to talk. Please tell me, what has been troubling you?”

Dark Cacao seemed to be growing more uncomfortable by the second. The once unreadable cookie had become particularly expressive by his standards, making Pure Vanilla even more worried than he had been previously. Perhaps his friend had given up on hiding what he felt, knowing Pure Vanilla had noticed the cracks in the facade. 

Dark Cacao struggled to respond. He fought off his instinct to contort his face in all sorts of… emotional ways. As long as he kept his composure, he could find a way out of this. He just needed everything to feel normal again.

Dark Cacao would have rather ripped out his own heart than open up to anybody, let alone one of the warriors he fought alongside in the Dark Flour War. Here sat a cookie stronger than himself, more resilient in the face of great burdens and countless tribulations. 

All Dark Cacao could muster was an “I apologize for tearing you from your kingdom.” His voice sounded almost foreign, far too small and weak for the Dark Cacao king. “I did not mean to be a burden, but my son was adamant about calling you here.”

“Dark Cacao, he merely sent the letter informing me of your condition,” Pure Vanilla replied, firmly but gently. “I came here of my own accord. I was so worried about you.”

Pure Vanilla wiped his eyes quickly before carrying on. “I would have never forgiven myself knowing I abandoned you at such a low point. You almost died, my friend. It goes without saying, but you need help.”

Dark Cacao slouched over, staring intensely at the floor. His hands softly grasped his loose black hair, pulling it downwards over his face. “It was an accident. I merely sought to atone for my wrongdoings.”

Pure Vanilla felt another miserable protest from deep within his heart. How could he console his poor friend, the stoic warrior who wouldn't open up even after nearly dying from his self-destructive habits? “Accident or not, I can’t let you continue to hurt yourself. I refuse to lose another friend, Dark Cacao. I know you understand that sentiment better than anyone.” A small part of Pure Vanilla screamed that there was no way Dark Cacao hadn't known his injuries would nearly crumble him. He couldn't fathom how somebody could do so much damage by accident. But he held his tongue.

Dark Cacao coughed pathetically, delaying his inevitable explanation. He was silent for a while, only speaking after Pure Vanilla shot him a pleading glance. “I... do not know what’s wrong with me. I am supposed to have a resolve unmatched, but- I cannot be as strong as my subjects think I am,” Dark Cacao sank further into himself. “I should be worrying about my kingdom, not succumbing to such frivolous outbursts. Yet… I just-” Dark Cacao’s normally monotonous voice rose slightly in pitch. He took a breath, struggling to continue speaking while overcome with emotion. He fell completely silent and looked down at the floor, willingly embracing an empty stare to hide his pained expression.

Pure Vanilla had a very vague idea of what burdened his bitter friend, but he could work with that single shred of emotional transparency. Surely, he could comfort his friend. The compassionate cookie took a deep breath and spoke. "I understand what you're going through, Dark Cacao, believe me. I've been there. It may seem difficult, but you have to remember that you're more than the king of the Dark Cacao Kingdom. You're a living, breathing cookie who deserves to have his own emotions and his own time away from the pressures of leadership," Pure Vanilla reassured him warmly, patting Dark Cacao on the back soothingly as his broad shoulders heaved.

Dark Cacao looked repulsed by the affirmation. “I do not deserve to abandon my kingdom, I have already had that luxury for too long. I shut myself away and closed myself off from my subjects for many decades after the war.” Pure Vanilla opened his mouth to interject, but the bitter cookie carried on. “The mistakes I have made will always haunt me. My boy- he deserves more than I can give him. I wish I could go back and raise him with love..." The warrior furrowed his brow, unable to choke out another word. Pure Vanilla's heart ached at the sight of his friend collapsing beside him. 

"I'm so sorry, Dark Cacao. You should not feel guilty for trying your best. We all must live with our mistakes; what matters is that we learn from them."

Pure Vanilla's words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Dark Cacao's eyes were glassy now. Suddenly, the distraught cookie began violently clawing his freshly bandaged arms with renewed vigor. Pure Vanilla tried to tear his hand away, but he lacked the strength to do anything. “Dark Cacao, please- stop it.”

The warrior didn’t seem to hear Pure Vanilla at all. He erupted into quiet sobs while Pure Vanilla watched helplessly beside him.

“A little part of me… wants to crumble. I know I must carry on, for my subjects and my son, but... it is growing more difficult to persist," he sobbed, keeling over and clutching his arms just above his elbows.

Pure Vanilla abruptly stood up and dove in to hug his friend, hoping to catch him off guard and tear his hands away from his injured arms. Dark Cacao’s dull cries halted briefly as he winced. One of his hands instinctively moved to his abdomen, while the other moved behind him to prevent himself from collapsing from the unexpected force. Realizing he hadn’t treated all of Dark Cacao’s injuries, Pure Vanilla immediately tore himself away and began apologizing profusely. 

“Do not worry about it,” Dark Cacao said, attempting to steady his trembling voice. He wiped his eyes silently and took a deep breath.“I neglected to tell you about… those. I have everything else under control. I would prefer not to exhaust too much of your magic.”

That didn’t stop Pure Vanilla from feeling remorseful. Although at the very least, Dark Cacao had stopped grasping at his injuries. Pure Vanilla lifted Dark Cacao’s baggy shirt to reveal sloppily bandaged, but less severe injuries, along with one deep scar that traveled all the way across his abdomen. Pure Vanilla assumed it was from Dark Choco’s attack and decided not to ask about it. 

Once he was done healing and rebandaging those injuries, Pure Vanilla stood back to take one more look at his distraught friend. Dark Cacao was calmer now, although he still seemed a bit melancholy. Before Pure Vanilla could say anything, Dark Cacao stood up and hugged his friend tightly. “I am sorry to be a burden. Thank you for helping.”

Pure Vanilla nodded, surprised by the gesture. “You know I will worry about you, right? You can’t just expect me to go home knowing you want to crumble, Dark Cacao.”

“I’m sorry. It was irrational of me to say that,” Dark Cacao replied, grabbing his robe off the floor and sliding it back on in one swift motion.

“No, no, I’m glad you told me. Burdens are much easier to bear when shared among many. I am here for you, my friend.” As he spoke, Pure Vanilla smiled at Dark Cacao warmly, silently reassuring his friend that he was allowed to express his emotions.

“Thank you.” Dark Cacao could finally look Pure Vanilla in the eyes. This time, he fought back the feelings of disgust that threatened to arise when he saw his figure reflected through the heterochromic irises. 

“This will not happen again. I value my subjects too deeply to repeat what I’ve done. Please hold me to that.”

Pure Vanilla nodded in agreement. “Recovery is not always linear, but I have faith in you. I will be here for the next few days to keep an eye on your wounds, but you are always free to send me a letter if your troubles seem overwhelming. ”

Dark Cacao nodded. “I appreciate your kindness. I suppose it goes without saying that you are always welcome in this kingdom, regardless of circumstance.”

Pure Vanilla smiled again, hugging his friend briefly one last time before walking toward the door. “Do you feel alright?” he asked, looking back as his hand rested on the doorknob.

“I do,” Dark Cacao replied, a small but genuine smile creeping across his face for the first time in a long while. And, as Pure Vanilla exited, a warm feeling arose in the resolute warrior’s heart, reassuring him that everything would be alright in the end.