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Chapter Text

Pure Vanilla didn’t know what to expect, when they’d broken into the abandoned house’s cellar and found an entire complex of hidden tunnels. Locals said the house was haunted, empty but filled with the sounds of echoing screams at random hours. Until someone had seen a cookie carrying a body out into the woods. The cookie was followed back to the house, but wasn’t seen since. 

Of course he’d forced his way into the investigation. If someone else was there, was hurt, he had to be there to help. 

He hadn’t expected them to be clearing out basement tunnels for hours, finding dead ends and a maze of twists and turns. Odd blue mushrooms sprouted from every flat surface. 

Some of the rooms… were obviously cells. Used for things Pure Vanilla Cookie could only begin to imagine. Others were… operating theatres. Meticulously cleaned and sanitized ones. 

…some rooms had cookies in them. Crumbles, at least. 

And then he’d found a room that looked… nice. It didn’t look like a cell at all. If it weren’t for the locks on the door and the chain hanging from the ceiling, Pure Vanilla wouldn’t have guessed this was also a prison cell. 

“Hello?” He couldn’t see what the chain was attached to from the door. 

He followed it to a far corner - hidden behind furniture - where the chain was nearly taut. A cookie sat on the ground with their back to the door, unmoving. They looked clean and not too thin, which was a mercy. A metal collar tight around their throat was connected to that chain, making him feel sick. 

“Oh..!” He almost feared he'd found another crumbled cookie, until he saw their shoulders moving fairly with their breathing.“Hello, I’m… I’m sorry, who are you?” He… didn't know what else to even say. He needed to know who this cookie was. Pure Vanilla approached slowly. 

Something about the color of their icing was familiar to him, though he couldn’t pin it down. It looked like someone had cut it recently with unsharpened shears without a care to make it even. Ragged and stained dark with dried jam in some places, for some reason… had they been cut when their icing was being sheared? What was even the purpose? He didn't want to know, but he also had to know. 

Pure Vanilla didn’t think the cookie heard him. They hadn’t moved. He very gently touched their shoulder- and they screamed a nasty, rasping sound that hurt his ears, falling over and scrambling away from him. 

As soon as they turned and he saw their face he knew this cookie. Pure Vanilla was… astonished, and horrified. This was perhaps the last cookie he would expect to see chained up in some mad cookie’s basement. 

“...Shadow Milk Cookie..?” He whispered as he kept looking and re-looking but it was still him. Near cyan colored dough. Black, white, and blue eyecing with slit pupils. The blue and white icing on his head was so short and pale for some odd reason that he hadn’t been able to recognize the colors. There were no shadows or eyes on the underside- there was no underside to his hair, and Pure Vanilla thought that might have been the point. 

Shadow Milk stared foggily at him as if not seeing him back for a very long moment before his eyes went into focus and he looked startled. 

“V-Vanilly?” Shadow Milk sounded awful, hoarse and quiet. “Ahaha- of course you’re here- of course you’re here-” His giggling was horrid. Pure Vanilla had never wanted to shut him up so bad as he did hearing him laughing like he was a deranged… deranged… something. 

“Shadow Milk-” His voice choked in his chest. 

Deranged alone couldn’t explain how dead Shadow Milk sounded. Pure Vanilla watched his head and entire body loll to the side as if unwilling - unable? - to hold his own weight. He had… scars. Thick, silvered scars across his arms. With very identifiable shapes. Chains. So indented into his dough that his wrists looked fragile and thinned. Not just across his wrists. Across his legs, too, sprawled across the luxurious carpet. 

He wouldn’t stop giggling madly, shoulders and chest heaving. His eyecing looked suspiciously shiny and wet. 

“Shadow Milk,” Pure Vanilla tried to approach gently. “Shadow Milk… who did this..?” They hadn’t found the cookie yet. They hadn’t found any surviving witnesses yet either. 

“Don’t touch me!” He gasped, snarling viciously, but Pure Vanilla could see the fear in the way he flinched away. 

“Shadow Milk,” He tried to be quiet and soft, tried to be gentle like when finding a sugarspun lamb lost in the woods for too long. “Who put you here?” He needed to know who did this because no cookie deserved this- 

“I said DON’T TOUCH ME!” The cookie tried to get away but slipped at the edge of what the chain allowed, catching himself with both hands and a pained grunt.  

His left arm had been covering his chest. Pure Vanilla felt his heart leap from his throat when he saw what he’d been hiding. Brutal scars across his dough, a blue point poking from the center of his chest. A familiar blue. There was no way that was… that was what it looked like. Right? Please gods, let it not be what it looked like. 

“D-don’t look at me either!” Shadow Milk wheezed desperately, crawling away on legs that trembled. 

He couldn’t breathe for a very long minute. Pure Vanilla had to force himself to swallow, to set aside his panic. It took every ounce of self-control he had in him. 

“Who did this to you?” He said calmly, seriously, holding himself together by a sheer thread. 

“Oh please!” Shadow Milk laughed, high pitched and cracking. “Like you aren’t just glad I’ve been put away where I can’t cause any trouble-” His eyes were glazed over like he wasn’t even seeing him again. He sounded like he couldn’t breathe beyond his laughter. If it could be called ‘laughter’. It sounded half a step away from turning into sobs. 

“No.” No no no no he would never be happy about something like this- “Please, Shadow Milk Cookie-” Pure Vanilla said, pained, trying to get his attention. To just look at him. “Please. I-I wouldn’t wish this on any cookie.” He knelt down very carefully, one hand held out. “Please. Let- Let me help you.” He didn’t bother holding back the tears in his eyes. Didn't know when they'd started falling, to be honest. 

Shadow Milk finally looked at him again, eyes focusing briefly. He stopped giggling. Then stared for a long minute before his eyes unfocused once again. He pointed one hand up at the ceiling where the silver chain connected to his collar. 

“Feel free to try.” He’d lost any and all emotion from his voice, sounding empty. It was almost worse than the giggling. 

With a great amount of difficulty Shadow Milk forced himself to his feet, legs wobbling underneath him. Were they so damaged he couldn’t walk..? Pure Vanilla wanted to rush forward to help him, but he’d collapsed into the bed before he could. There he stayed, curled up in a loose fetal position, unmoving. 

When Pure Vanilla frantically went to check on him, he saw him still breathing but staring lifelessly up at the ceiling. Calling his name got no response. Trying to wave in front of his eyes didn't get any reaction either. 

Pure Vanilla had to pause to breathe for a minute before he examined the chain first to see if he could just break it and get him out of here. His jam practically chilled inside of him. The magic of those chains was… very familiar. Witch’s magic, the kind used by cookies. Someone had in fact actually managed to bind Shadow Milk Cookie, perhaps the only way possible. 

Since he couldn't remove him Pure Vanilla decided to give him as much of a checkup as he could here. He examined the scars on his arms and legs. Shadow Milk didn’t stir, limbs limp when picked up. The scars went so deep into his dough… he worried that Shadow Milk did have decreased movement from them. 

Pure Vanilla had also seen Shadow Milk speared straight through by weapons and magic and brush it off like nothing. He’d seen arrows and cannonballs bounce off the beast cookie like spitballs. These injuries must also have been done by the same kinds of chains as the one on the collar. It was the only thing he knew of capable of actually hurting him. 

Though what on Earthbread was capable of doing that… that mess to his chest, Pure Vanilla couldn’t begin to guess. 

Whoever had done this had also healed him from the initial damage. Or maybe the chains had burned and crisped the dough to the point of scarring over everything, because he couldn’t find any jam… couldn’t find anything on the surface to heal. Not from those scars. 

The only injury he could find that was fixable with his field magic was the spots in his eyecing. But when he touched those Shadow Milk made a… a noise… he didn't know how to describe. Tiny, whimpered… desperate. He was scared to touch them again. Especially when he saw what the dried jam was from. The remains of one of Shadow Milk’s infamous eyes was left behind in one slightly longer hunk of hair. He… he could heal it later, when Shadow Milk could have some potions for the pain, when he washed the purple tinted jam out of his icing. 

Pure Vanilla kept looking at the Thing on his chest. Like the scars on his arms and legs it was healed over, for a chosen meaning of the word. The scars were thick and hideous. The blue poking from the center of it all… he didn't want to think about it. When he tried to cast a quick scanning spell, it glowed in response, and he wanted to vomit. 

Pure Vanilla had to stop for a few minutes to breathe and not actually throw up. He couldn't do anything for Shadow Milk here. He needed time, sanitized conditions, and anesthetic potions before he could do anything to actually help him. Which meant he needed to get him out first and foremost. Which meant he had to break that chain. 

The chain, being magical in nature, couldn’t simply be broken by force. And being a product derived from witch’s magic, it also couldn’t be dispelled as easily as Pure Vanilla would have liked. This would take time. Time that Pure Vanilla didn’t want to take, given they were deep within the complex tunnels in a mysterious crazed cookie’s territory who might be back at any time. There were plenty of guards and wafflebots floating around, but still. He didn’t like it. 

Fortunately, he was one of the few cookies on Crispia who knew enough about witch’s magic to even begin unraveling it. 

Halfway through trying to undo the spell latching the collar around Shadow Milk’s neck, the door creaked and he jumped. Black Raisin Cookie stood by the door, looking concerned. “Your Majesty, you shouldn't disappear like that-” Her eyes landed on where he sat and the cookie next to him. “A survivor-?” Black Raisin froze a few steps closer. 

“Yes,” Pure Vanilla said, recognizing the look on her face. “This is exactly who you think it is.” He said tiredly. 

Black Raisin looked… conflicted. “Who could cage a Beast?” She said, eyeing the room like a threat would pop out of the colorful tapestries covering the walls. 

“Some cookie capable of harnessing witch spells.” Pure Vanilla tapped the chain with his staff. Some of the chains shimmered, but didn’t crack. “And is very talented with them. I don’t know if I can break this without a good few hours to study it, but I don’t want him to be forced to stay here any longer than he already has…” However long that was. The scars indicated months of healing, but whoever did this clearly was an expert in magic and could have healed him. 

Black Raisin Cookie crept closer, eyeing Shadow Milk suspiciously. The suspicion was quickly replaced by horror as she witnessed the scarring. The… horror on his chest. 

“Witch’s breath-” Black Raisin covered her mouth. “How has he not crumbled?” 

“Likely because he is much tougher than any normal cookie.” Pure Vanilla accidentally found his hand resting on Shadow Milk’s shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. Shadow Milk didn’t stir - for good or for ill - so he continued. If only to make himself feel better. “Which scares me how the injuries were made to begin with. I’ve witnessed him shrug off attacks that would shatter statues to dust.” He returned to his work trying to undo the chain spell, becoming frustrated with his inadequacy. 

Black Raisin Cookie did not say anything for a long few minutes, merely stood next to the bed on guard and occasionally glancing over at the catatonic cookie. 

“Is he… awake?” She finally questioned. 

“He was earlier, briefly. I’m… not sure what’s wrong with him.” Pure Vanilla admitted morosely. “Likely… something might have been done to him, or…” 

Black Raisin’s eyes were heavy as she stared. “...some cookies, injured badly enough… retreat into themselves, to escape.” 

Pure Vanilla blinked, realizing he’d seen some of that vacantness before. In injured cookies so damaged they didn’t want to feel the pain anymore. His chest constricted painfully. “That may be it but… there’s something else, with his eyes, I… I don’t know. We’ll have to see later. For now, I just need to-!” Another attempt and the chain did not break. He growled, feeling helpless. 

“...perhaps if the chain does not break, you can break around the chain?” 

“The collar is also made from the same spell, it won’t be broken so easily.” Pure Vanilla sighed. 

“What of the ceiling?” 

Pure Vanilla looked up. The chain was connected to the ceiling, yes… buried into the rock. That was better than nothing he supposed. Rock he could break. 

It took a long few minutes of softening the rock with spells and her carefully chipping the rock away with her daggers, but they managed to free the chain. It had been melted into the rock- so they had a small chunk of the stone at the end of a long length of chain. 

But it was broken free and that was what mattered. Now he needed to get the beast cookie out of here. 

“Shadow Milk Cookie,” Pure Vanilla shook his shoulders gently, trying to rouse him from whatever this state was. 

He didn’t move, but his eyes drifted towards him a touch, and that was enough. 

“Shadow Milk, let’s go.” He pushed him gently up into a sitting position. Pure Vanilla saw the… wound on his chest and decided he didn’t want every cookie on the way outside to stare at it. He pulled his outer robe from his shoulders, softly tying the waffle cut ribbons around Shadow Milk’s. “There we go. I can’t imagine that’s very comfortable, out in the air. Come on then, can you walk?” 

It took some urging before Shadow Milk began to actually support his own weight, seeming confused and distant. He was all the way to his feet before he actually spoke. 

“But… the chain..?” He mumbled. 

“It’s broken, we’re getting you out of here.” Pure Vanilla said with determination. 

Shadow Milk blinked, looked as if he didn’t believe it. 

Black Raisin Cookie gathered up the loops of chain and the rock, carrying it ahead of them as Pure Vanilla began to gently urge Shadow Milk towards the door. He was so grateful his friend hadn't questioned, hadn't tried to argue against saving Shadow Milk like many cookies would, just trusted him and let him work. He might have done something rash if she had opposed. No crime was worth this, surely. 

Shadow Milk indeed struggled to walk, though he didn’t know if it was due to the damage to his legs or his… condition. Pure Vanilla supported him easily, giving gentle encouragement the whole way. When they walked out of the cell, Shadow Milk let out a small sound. It took looking closer and looking at his face to realize it was a sob.

He didn’t make any more noises besides little grunts of pain until they left the tunnels, left the abandoned house, and walked into the sunlight. Then Shadow Milk made another soft sob and closed his eyes, tears dripping down his face. He didn’t make another sound. 

Pure Vanilla ignored every cookie around him trying to catch his attention or question who the cookie was. They were outside any major cities, so they'd traveled by a small airship. He helped Shadow Milk limp up the ship's ramp and to the soft, cushioned benches, where he was easily urged to lay down. Black Raisin Cookie followed wordlessly with the chains in her arms and stared blankly at any cookie who tried to interrupt. 

Somehow he ended up with Shadow Milk’s head on his lap, curled up next to him and shivering. Very cautiously Pure Vanilla stroked his shoulders and back, avoiding his icing and any scarring. It seemed to help. 

The other cookie kept his eyes closed, shuddering with the occasional gasp. Pure Vanilla just tucked his robes around him gently and hoped he was warm enough to not go into shock. To help avoid it he asked Black Raisin Cookie to sit down on Shadow Milk’s other side and elevate his legs. She gave him a weird look for the first time today but complied. 

They waited. Pure Vanilla could have demanded the airship return to the castle immediately, but Shadow Milk Cookie wasn't in immediate danger and he didn't want to take their main transport if… if there were any other cookies still alive. 

It turned out there were other survivors. Three other cookies. One who was actively crumbling and shouldn't be alive, much less up and moving, but walked onto the ship under her own power albeit dazed and covering her face with her icing. The second had to be dragged inside, feral and wolf-like and screaming in terror. The cookies who found them said they'd been in a cage and refused to leave. Shadow Milk practically curled into a ball in his lap, hearing them, and Pure Vanilla spent a good long hour soothing him until he stopped trembling. The third cookie seemed unharmed, at least, but had to be guided inside where they almost walked into every door and chair there possibly was to trip over. 

Pure Vanilla wanted to get up to check on them. But Shadow Milk was practically climbing into his lap trembling and he couldn't- couldn’t leave him. Black Raisin Cookie got up to assess them for him and returned with reports of minimal damage to the latter two cookies and a shake of her head for the first. That cookie wouldn't even survive the trip. Helping her would be pointless. All they could do was make her comfortable now. 

Pure Vanilla rubbed Shadow Milk’s back the entire flight back to the castle. The crumbling cookie survived the trip. She even spoke when spoken to, reacted violently when touched, and didn't seem any weaker than when she'd walked on board. If anything, she'd gathered some strength. 

He had to help her. Had to see if there was anything he could do. But Shadow Milk… Shadow Milk needed him, wasn't responding anymore, didn't even hum or growl or mutter a halfhearted “shut up” when Pure Vanilla spoke and nudged him for a response. 

But the poor cookie was actively leaving a trail of crumbs behind her and Shadow Milk was stable… 

It was a difficult, painful choice to make, but Pure Vanilla gave him over to Black Raisin Cookie to find a treatment room to keep him safely in and asked her to watch him. Black Raisin nodded solemnly and blinked slowly before leaving with Shadow Milk wobbling against her. 

Pure Vanilla forced himself to turn around and address the cookie being loaded onto a stretcher, chest tight.

Chapter Text

The room was as dry and cold as ever. To prevent any risk of mold or dampness, of course. He had to be in as good of a condition as possible. The bed was plush and covered in warm blankets to offset the chill. Beautiful rugs covered the floor, soft and the sort that you sank into an inch when you stepped onto it. The lights were turned on and off whenever he wanted, though he didn’t have control himself, and had to ask if he wanted darkness during the day. Otherwise they clicked on and off at regular intervals to ‘represent the day and night cycle’. Entertainment was minimal, but he refused to touch the books and materials given to him for that purpose. (Not to mention, reading was fucking hard without working eyes.) Staring blurrily at the rugged rock ceiling was an acceptable form of entertainment, right? 

A comfortable cage was still a cage, after all. The collar and chain around his neck and the scars across his body and the fucking pain reminded him of that every day. The simple, plain pants offered as the only clothing to ‘prevent catching or scratching the prime site’ weren’t enough for the chill. So there were blankets and pillows and all sorts of things to keep him nice and warm and placated. 

Shadow Milk didn’t like to sit on the comfortable furniture or use the soft blankets. Maybe it was petty of him. Maybe he should just take what comfort he could in his shitty situation. But he refused to enjoy the carefully selected comforts that were practically a bribe to ignore the absolute shittiness of the rest of this hell. Because he was a dumbass prick who had zero control over his life and he was going to control one stupid tiny little thing if it killed him. 

So today he sat on the floor, trying to ignore the plush carpet that made him want to lay down and nap on it, staring at a spot on the wall that had a single ant crawling around in and out of his sight. The most entertaining thing he’d seen all week, really. 

That was a joke. The most entertaining thing that week had been seeing his captor worrying about his lack of appetite. (Even if he then went on a tangent about whether or not Beast cookies needed to eat and questioned him nonstop about it, even if Shadow Milk refused to actually speak to him, even if it resulted in hours and hours of cajoling and wheedling trying to get him to communicate.) 

A clang of doors. Voices. Shadow Milk didn’t react, expecting his captor to be coming. Possibly for another attempt at finding him something he would eat. Possibly to begin a fresh round of who knew what kind of torture disguised as ‘evolution’. Shadow Milk didn’t care. If it was the first one then he would just ignore him anyway. If it was the latter there was nothing he could do to fight the chains that could swing from the ceiling and halt him in his tracks. So why give a fuck anymore? 

He did briefly wonder why there was more than one voice. His captor was a possessive cookie. Kept Shadow Milk all to himself. No cookie else was allowed to know he had the great Beast of Deceit caged like an animal and experimented- 

Shadow Milk heard the door to his room creak open. 

“Hello?” 

…that wasn’t his captor’s voice. 

“Oh..! Hello, I’m… I’m sorry, who are you?” 

…why was that voice familiar? 

Footsteps padded softly across the carpet. Some cookie stood behind him. A hand on his shoulder- not him not him not him- 

Shadow Milk hissed and threw himself to the side, covering his chest up with his arms, eyes wide. He laid on the ground, twitching and breathing madly for a minute before his vision cleared enough to see the cookie looking down at him. 

“...Shadow Milk Cookie..?” Pure Vanilla Cookie stared at him in horror, blind eyes wide. The stupid flower on his staff looked astonished as well. 

“V-Vanilly?” Shadow Milk made sure his chest was covered with one arm, refused to show It, tried to sit up off the floor with the other arm. “Ahaha- of course you’re here- of course you’re here-” 

“Shadow Milk-” Pure Vanilla clutched his staff like a lifeline.

He quickly blurred out of sight. Shadow Milk’s vision went in and out as he giggled. Of course his greatest enemy was here to see him at his lowest. Of course Pure Vanilla Cookie was here to see him broken and chained like an animal. Like the Beast he was. 

“-o did this..?” Pure Vanilla was getting closer. 

“Don’t touch me!” Shadow Milk shrieked, inched backwards. The chain attached to his collar tugged, reaching the edge of its reach. 

“Shadow Milk,” Pure Vanilla soothed. “Who put you here?” He kept getting closer. His hand reached out. 

“I said DON’T TOUCH ME!” Shadow Milk yelled, trying to move backwards. He reached the end of the chain and had to drop his hand from his chest to catch himself before he choked. Or worse, belly flopped onto the ground and was paralyzed by pain for a few hours. 

Pure Vanilla choked, a miserable little sound of horror. Maybe under any other situation Shadow Milk might delight in wrenching that sort of pain from Pure Vanilla Cookie. But not when it was because he was looking at him. 

“D-don’t look at me either!” Shadow Milk used both hands to crawl away, legs useless and weak. He knew what Pure Vanilla saw. He knew the mess on his chest. He didn't want him to see it. 

“Who did this to you?” Pure Vanilla said, sounding serious. Sounding hurt. 

“Oh please!” Shadow Milk laughed, high pitched and cracking. “Like you aren’t just glad I’ve been put away where I can’t cause any trouble-” 

“No. Please, Shadow Milk Cookie-” Pure Vanilla sounded tortured. “Please. I-I wouldn’t wish this on any cookie. Please. Let- Let me help you.” 

He looked at him, vision blurring horribly before it cleared up to see Pure Vanilla Cookie knelt down in front of him. Tears poured down the soft cookie’s face. 

Shadow Milk was too tired to argue. Was too tired to hope for salvation, to tell him to fuck off, or to do… anything at all really. 

He waved up at the chain linked to the ceiling, pulling himself up on damaged legs. “Feel free to try.” He said, stumbling over to his plush bed and curling up amongst the cushions. 

He stared up at the ceiling blankly. Let himself fall back into that comfortable space of nothingness. Let himself be poked and prodded, ignored it, ignored everything in the hopes it would just all stop soon. 

There was another voice. He ignored that too. 

Tugging. Touching. He didn't care. Didn't care at all. Nope. 

“Shadow Milk,” Pure Vanilla was next to him, he could hear him. He tried to ignore him. “Shadow Milk, let's go.” 

Then… movement? He was being moved. He was sitting up. Something… tucked around his shoulders. Covering his torso. 

“There we go. I can’t imagine that’s very comfortable, out in the air. Come on then, can you walk?” Pure Vanilla almost put his arms underneath his, but he flinched away before the other cookie could. Instead the arm was wrapped around his shoulders to support him. 

“But… the chain..?” Shadow Milk glanced up tiredly but his vision was too blurry to make anything out. He could still feel the collar around his neck though, and that was telling. 

“It’s broken, we’re getting you out of here.” Pure Vanilla sounded serious. How stupid of Silly Vanilly. 

Except they walked… out of his soft, comfortable room and into a dark, damp hallway hewn roughly from the rock. Shadow Milk couldn’t stop the little noise of disbelief. He wasn't crying. He wasn't. 

And then he felt sunlight on his dough and he was absolutely crying, though he tried not to let it be heard. His legs were so weak and unsteady Pure Vanilla Cookie was half-carrying him. Stupid Vanilly was letting him set the pace even as he guided him wherever they were going. 

Shadow Milk had spent millenia without sunlight. He'd rejoiced at feeling it again once being freed from the tree. He hadn't even thought of it since being stuck down there. He'd thought that hey, he'd been without it for so long and gotten a good dose or two since his last imprisonment, surely he didn't care that much. 

But here he was, crying like a fool because he couldn’t see very well and especially couldn't see coming out of the dark tunnels into the bright sun, but he could feel it warming up his chilled dough and soaking deep into the cloth draped over him. And it made him cry. He was such a little bitch. 

He couldn’t even try to focus his eyes with the light glaring into them, so was completely blind as Vanilla dragged him up some ramp and into someplace cold with the feel of air conditioning rather than just being underground. Shadow Milk was urged to lay down. He didn't mind that. 

He found Nilly sitting next to him and in a stroke of truly not giving a single fuck, forced his head onto the cookie’s lap to make him stay, because Pure Vanilla Cookie was the literal only decent thing in his millenias of existence and he didn't want him to go away right now. Vanilla was his usual kind and stupid self and just laid his hand on his back and pet him comfortingly. Shadow Milk didn't even care that it was condescending. He just wanted his stupid, stupid other half to stay as close as possible because it… it eased the ache in his chest. The throbbing pain of- of that going where it shouldn't. Pure Vanilla made it feel better just by being close. 

It felt so nice to have the throbbing lessen that he actually dozed off, a bit. Only to be woken by gentle shakes and distant words he didn't process. 

Shadow Milk actually had to bite his tongue to not whine when Pure Vanilla left him leaned against a strange cookie. Dark colored dough was all he could see of them. They rattled with the sounds of chains with every step and if the slight tug on his neck said anything, Vanilly hadn’t broken the chain, just taken it with him. 

Of course. Of course. They finally had the Beast of Deceit chained in a way he probably could not escape. Alone without his fellow Beasts and pathetic, defenseless, weak. Why would they let him be freed now? 

Pure Vanilla had learned his lesson, clearly, when it came to Shadow Milk Cookie. He giggled to himself, proud of his other half for learning better. For getting smarter. He'd learn the lessons Shadow Milk had failed all those millenia ago… 

Voice, next to him, distant and fuzzy in his ears. A shake. Oh. He must've stopped walking. He forced his legs to keep moving with a grunt. 

Ah well. Even if they kept him chained, Pure Vanilla was the kind sort. He'd probably let him feel the sun every now and then, right? 

Shadow Milk followed the dark blur of cookie, leaning more and more on them with each step. His legs were killing him. He couldn’t go much further. But the chance to stretch was nice! He chuckled under his breath. Oh the stupid things he felt grateful for. That cookie really messed up his head, huh? 

He was tilted over against a soft surface and the breath was punched out of him with the impact. Shadow Milk wheezed and let out a strangled gasp. Hands on his shoulders tried to pull him onto his back and he thrashed, making the pain worse, but he didn't want to be held down, didn't want his chest- 

(“Please- don't- don't don't- don't touch-”

“Shadow Milk Cookie, please, you're going to hurt yourself-” 

“- don't- don't touch don't touch don't touch don't-” 

“What on Earthbread did that mad cookie do to you to cause this?”) 

Hands, gone. He breathed, gasped, it hurt but there were no hands on him. The only chains were the collar around his throat. It wasn't tight, wasn't pulling, he was on a soft surface… was he… back in his bed..? 

Shadow Milk curled over onto his side tenderly, chest throbbing. It hurt extra bad. Why..? Why did he remember it hurting less, recently, for some reason? Fuck, he was always so tired nowadays. Couldn't think straight. 

Nothing else touched him. So he was… fine, for now. He could still hear another cookie in the room, breathing softly, with the odd rustle of feathers and fabric. Strange… usually his captor sat there with pens to write with while watching him… but if the cookie wanted to write with a dumb quill or something about him having nightmares again, at least the fucking asshole wasn't muttering his observations out loud. 

Shadow Milk curled up as tight as he could without worsening his chest, pulling the blanket over him awkwardly. It felt different than his usual blankets. But whatever. The weirdo probably changed his bedding when he was zoned out.

The chains wouldn't break. The chains wouldn't break-  

He was stuck on his back, chest bared, chained down and the stupid stupid chains wouldn't break- 

“Easy now, my Lord, wouldn't want to cause any unintended damage.” Blue hands picked up a silver, glowing scalpel, holding it against his dough. “We're doing important work here, after all, we can't afford mistakes..!” 

“I'm gonna kill you.” He rasped, staring up at the ceiling so he didn't have to struggle to make his eyes focus on the cookie who was cleaning his chest off like a treasured monument. “I'm going to break out of here, and I'm going to c-crumble you-” His breath hitched when scalpel hit his dough and dug in. Purple jam welled- 

“To be crumbled by you would be the highest of honors, my Lord!” The cookie cooed. “So let us work together to elevate you to a new form, shall we?” And so they began- 

Pain. Burning pain and the stinging stabbing slicing- he screamed but the chains held him down tight- 

“Do try to stay still,” The bastard fretted. “I don't wish to damage anything too much-” 

Screaming. He screamed. Tears trickled down his face. He couldn't break them. Couldn't break free. Trapped again except he'd take the stupid fucking tree over this- 

Hands on his chest, hands inside his chest, moving rearranging- 

(Shaking hands on his chest, gentle, soothing, examining the injury and casting scanning spells to know exactly what had been done, so Pure Vanilla could help him-) 

He screamed and tried to beg him to stop. But his throat was pressed tight against the collar, too tight, could barely breathe- 

(Shadow Milk moved, which should be impossible, he was unconscious and he'd poured enough anesthetics into him to down a biscuit horse. He moved and he whimpered and Pure Vanilla realized he needed to stop right now-)  

Hard but soft and pliable, his souljam wasn’t supposed to go inside of him but there it fucking was, glowing and swelling with magic trying to prevent- 

(“Shadow Milk, please, I'm sorry, it's okay, you're okay-”) 

Hands digging around, moving, shifting the souljam until it was ‘just right’. He couldn't breathe couldn’t move- 

“Lord Shadow Milk Cookie, just a bit more and I can begin the healing-” 

(“-shhh, I'm sorry, you're okay, everything is okay-”)

“STOP!” He finally forced out, choking, back arching. It hurt. “Stop stop stop-” 

“-shhhh, I know, I know, I'm sorry, you're okay-” 

That wasn't his voice. That was a different voice. 

It… it didn't hurt as much as it should. Something soothed the throbbing pain, something familiar, something close. 

He keened, curling into that soothing presence. There was a noise of surprise before arms wrapped around him. 

“I'm sorry, you're safe, I've got you,” A litany of murmurs filled his ear. Shadow Milk shuddered and gasped for air, relaxing against his will as the pain eased. “Shhh, everything is okay,” 

He opened his eyes but they didn't work, as usual, until he took a minute to force them to manually focus and a familiar cookie appeared above him. 

“V-Vanilly..?” He wheezed. 

“I'm sorry, Shadow Milk, I'm so sorry, I didn't know, you're okay-” Pure Vanilla Cookie looked horrible. Exhausted, bags under his eyes and what looked like a spot of red jam in his hair. 

Shadow Milk shivered. He tried to look around but the movement made his eyes unfocused and he was blind again, nothing but blurs. But he could still hear. Whispers. There were other cookies. 

“Silence, all of you.” A serious voice. The others shut up. Shadow Milk almost wanted to laugh but he was so wrung out from the nightmare- 

“Where-” He rasped, before realizing it was easier to speak than usual. His hand went up to his throat. He… the collar was… not gone. But loose. Enough to not choke him with the slightest movement. 

“I'm sorry, I'll need more time to get that off of you,” Pure Vanilla said tiredly. “But I wanted to try to heal you first. Black Raisin said the nurses gave you a more than adequate dosage of anesthetics to keep you under-” 

“Don't work.” He slurred, eyes moving to stare at where Pure Vanilla was. He didn't bother to focus them. Just kept his eyes pointed in the direction of the cream colored blur. “Not a normal cookie. Don't work on me.” No poisons or anesthetics or drugs worked on him, to his disappointment in his attempts to have a ‘rebellious’ phase once upon a time. 

Silence. You could've poked a pin through the tension in the room. 

“You mean to tell me… you were awake and… conscious during..?” 

Shadow Milk laughed, a bitter and shattered sound. That was the only answer he gave. 

“Shadow Milk, I'm sorry, I-” Pure Vanilla said quietly. “If I'd known I would've waited for you to be awake to try healing-” 

Shadow Milk ignored his stupid rambling and curled into him. “Shut up.” He rasped. “Can't… can't heal it. Taking it out will kill me. And explode the entire countryside around me.” He giggled. 

“...that is similar to Sesame Snap Cookie's testimony of her implanted chocochunk…” A quiet voice piped up from somewhere else in the room. 

“Oh she's still kicking?” Shadow Milk slurred. “Hasn't exploded yet? Ohhh, have fun with her… nasty bitch…” 

Pure Vanilla apparently decided that being his new painkiller body pillow meant he was allowed to pet Shadow Milk. This was true, as Shadow Milk didn't have the energy to stop him, but he was still going to be grumpy about it. 

“You know about Sesame Snap Cookie's condition?” Pure Vanilla asked tentatively. 

“Prototype. Bastard liked to debate his hypotheses to his subjects. I'm the latest model.” He was still technically a failure, still defective, but not as bad as that fire bomb. Yikes. 

“Can you tell me the name of the cookie who did this to you?” Pure Vanilla rested his hand on the side of his head, not petting his icing too much. Just applying pressure. 

Shadow Milk breathed in sharply. “...Blue Mushroom Cookie.” He mumbled, closing his eyes and trying to not think. “Blue, red goopy sap, stupid little glasses, white robes. Can't miss him.” 

He could feel the motion of Pure Vanilla Cookie looking to the side. A nod. Then another gentle pat to his head. 

“Thank you. We'll find him.” Pure Vanilla soothed. “For you and the others we rescued. And for the cookies we were… too late for.” 

Shadow Milk hummed carelessly. So long as he could stay here where his chest didn't throb so much, he didn't care what they did with who. 

“Shadow Milk, do you think I can continue looking at your chest, now that you're awake?” 

He instantly broke into a cold sweat, shivering and squeezing his eyes shut. 

“I have no intentions of hurting you, I just want to look at it and see what I can do to help.” Pure Vanilla soothed. 

“Perhaps wait for another time, Your Majesty.” That serious voice said. “You've been awake far too long tending to the other survivors. And clearly he could… use a break.” 

There was a long silence before Pure Vanilla sighed and started to shift. “...very well-” 

“Don’t-” He grabbed Pure Vanilla's robe and swallowed dryly. If he left the pain in his chest would go from a dull ache to an overwhelming throb. “Other half of the souljam- hurts less when you're- please-” The thought of other cookies hearing him beg had him speak quietly, but beg he did. 

“My half of the souljam being near… helps with your pain?” Pure Vanilla clarified. Shadow Milk nodded, mortified. “That… would make sense, I suppose. I can stay here-” 

“Your Majesty-!” 

“Surely this isn't necessary-” 

“Enough. Shadow Milk Cookie is in no condition to endanger Pure Vanilla Cookie.” The serious cookie demanded. “Guards can be posted if you are so worried. For now, His Majesty needs rest.”

The sound of cookies leaving the room and muttering amongst themselves filled the air. Shadow Milk allowed himself to relax as the pain ebbed from his chest. Pure Vanilla Cookie didn’t say another word, holding him. If it weren’t such a relief he might be embarrassed to be cradled like he was fragile by his nemesis. Yeah no, Shadow Milk didn’t give a single shit, he finally wasn’t in fucking agony, so he’d cuddle if that’s what it fucking took.   

Chapter Text

Pure Vanilla woke feeling groggy and blinking sleep from his eyes. There was a clunk nearby, a plate being sat down? He reached for his staff. He squinted. This wasn’t his bed, so there wasn’t a stand by the bedside with his staff leaned against it. 

Some cookie passed him said staff. Vanilla mumbled his gratitude and reached out to his staff with his magic. It connected and blinked a few times to make sure it was seeing correctly. 

He was stretched out across a private hospital room's bed. Not the first time he'd passed out in a hospital room instead of finding his way to his actual bed. 

However, Shadow Milk Cookie wasn't usually in said bed. Especially not curled into Pure Vanilla Cookie and clinging to him for dear life. The visual broke him for a little bit. 

“I see you're processing.” Black Raisin’s deadpan voice broke him from his circular thoughts. She pointed to the cup of strong tea with a few jellies that she'd set by the table for him. 

“...something like that.” Pure Vanilla rubbed his face with one hand. He sat up and dove for the cup with the other. Shadow Milk’s hands remained fisted tight in his robes, but fortunately he could loosen them enough to not disturb his rest. He looked to still be sleeping, at least.  

Right. Yesterday had been exhausting for both of them. He'd been up late tending to poor Sesame Snap. As horrible as Shadow Milk's state was, at least he wasn't missing half his head. 

Yet despite the damage she'd been stable. There was some odd dark chocolate artifact inside of the gaping hole in her head and it was keeping her alive, keeping her from crumbling. It also made her dangerously short tempered and gave her the ability to fling molten chocolate when angered. 

When questioned, she shared all she knew. Sesame Snap Cookie wanted herself ‘fixed’ as much as Pure Vanilla wanted to help her. 

The artifact (one that he would have to reach out to Dark Cacao for possible information on, since it supposedly came from the Cacao Kingdom) was implanted in her. Similar to how Shadow Milk’s… he had to get over the instinct to shy away from it… similar to how Shadow Milk’s souljam had been implanted inside of his chest. 

The clue to fixing all of this could lie in both of them. Or neither. Or perhaps Blue Mushroom Cookie himself. 

By the time he'd finished helping calm down Sesame Snap and asking her questions on her condition, it had been so late he'd decided to go ahead and meet the other two cookies just to get it over with. 

The mysterious feral cookie was inconsolable, howling and crying that she would be in trouble for ‘leaving her cage’. She wouldn't even share her name- too busy howling. Pure Vanilla had healed her numerous injuries and then left her under a strong dream spell to hopefully sleep off the worst of it. 

Sleepytime Tea Cookie was an odd fellow, but perhaps also held a key to helping Shadow Milk. He was so affected by his natural dough's calming effects that he was barely aware anything had been done to him. A mercy, in many ways, but unfortunate in that he really did not know what was done. The potential key he held lied in the large blue eyes hidden underneath his hair- eyes he admitted he didn't have before entering the basement. 

If they could only find this Blue Mushroom Cookie. Or his notes. Sleepytime mentioned notes. Sesame Snap also mentioned the cookie's obsessive note taking. If only Pure Vanilla had any access to the cookie's research… perhaps he'd find clues, be able to see what exactly Blue Mushroom Cookie had done in order to safely reverse it. Any of it. 

By the time he'd finished his exams and setting up the appropriate doctors and guards for each cookie it had been late enough to be considered early. And then the other doctors wanted to see Shadow Milk Cookie, while he was harmless, and Pure Vanilla Cookie supposed having consulting cookies wasn't a bad idea, if only because he was so tired. But surely his chest was painful just to the touch - it looked so - and an anesthetic would be necessary to examine it without causing distress or worsening his pain. 

About all he'd achieved was loosening the collar and removing the chain attached to it. Then he'd began the examination and… 

He didn't expect… that. Didn't expect Shadow Milk Cookie to wake up screaming from a noninvasive physical exam. Certainly didn't expect the news that anesthetics did not work on Shadow Milk, which meant he'd been awake and conscious and feeling all of it when the souljam was… implanted. 

Pure Vanilla felt nauseous just thinking of it. He couldn’t imagine what sort of pain that would cause. Couldn't blame him for his strange behavior and clinginess. Goodness knew what sort of mess Pure Vanilla would be in his place. Far less composed, he thought. 

There was a small huff from his lap. Shadow Milk stirred faintly. He couldn’t tell if he was actually awake though, as his eyes only lidded partly open and stared vacantly. 

Pure Vanilla set his teacup down, nodding to Black Raisin thankfully. She gave a respectful nod in return and situated herself on a chair by the windowsill, petting one of her raisin crows quietly. 

He very carefully rested his hands on Shadow Milk’s face. He didn’t get anything beyond a confused grunt and a flicker of his eyelids. 

Gently, he pulled up one of his eyelids. Shadow Milk flinched, but didn’t actually pull away. 

“Hnngrh??” Whatever noise Shadow Milk made might have been words, but Pure Vanilla was too busy observing his pupils to translate. 

They looked to be undamaged, thankfully, if oddly dull in color. His eyecing was usually so vibrant… As he watched, Shadow Milk’s eyes roved around and then stopped on him. The pupil contracted and dilated several times before it looked like he actually saw him. Then rapidly unfocused again. 

“...what’re you doing?” Shadow Milk slurred tiredly, pulling his face away and closing his eyes. 

“Is something wrong with your eyecing?” Pure Vanilla asked kindly. 

“Yeah, ‘m missing a ton.” Shadow Milk grumbled. He didn’t pull away from Pure Vanilla, though, still laying against him. 

“...the eyes in your hair.” Pure Vanilla frowned, eyes going to the ragged icing. “You saw out of those?” 

“Uh, eeyeah, uh duh.” Shadow Milk groaned. “Not anymore. Obviously. Fucker.” 

Ignoring the grumpy hostility, Pure Vanilla frowned worriedly. “And that impacts the eyecing on your face..?” He wasn’t sure what the connection was, exactly. 

“I’unno. ‘Pparently.” Shadow Milk sighed dramatically. Pure Vanilla had to resist the urge to give a little smile of amusement that he’d kept some sort of stubborn spark. “Do you have to know?” 

“I’d like to know if it’s something I can help with.” Pure Vanilla said softly. “If there’s something I can do to help… maybe glasses? Or…” 

Shadow Milk opened his eyes to roll them, unfocused or no. “I can see just FINE. Just. Can’t see shit if things are moving…” He grumbled. 

“You can’t see things if they’re… moving?” Pure Vanilla was a little confused. 

“Listen, pal, you go from two dozen eyes that perceive more than the average cookies to just two shitty ones!” Shadow Milk hissed. “See how you deal with it then!” He sat up with some difficulty, one arm going to cover his chest. “So I can’t see things when they move and I have to actually focus to see things, psh, who gives a fuck?” He glared distantly at nothing. 

“Well, at least you still can see.” Pure Vanilla said with relief. Then he saw the way Shadow Milk was dressed and realized that while he wasn’t filthy, he could certainly use a nice bath. And it would probably warm and loosen up some of the scarring… but first. He glanced to the plate with some simple jellies, light on the stomach. “Are you hungry?” 

“No.” Shadow Milk said, instantly and weirdly emotionlessly. “I mean uh- I don’t need to eat, so no, I’m not hungry, don’t fucking ask me about it.” He curled defensively around himself. 

“...alright,” Pure Vanilla nodded peaceably. He could try to address that again… later. “Then would you like a bath before I try to examine you again? And some actual clothes after?” 

Shadow Milk went through the effort of staring at him, eyes hard. Then he looked away, nodding slowly. 

“Excellent. Any preferences? I'm sure I could find something in your usual style-” 

“Loose.” One of his arms covered his chest. “Just… loose.” 

Pure Vanilla nodded and smiled at him, even if he wouldn't see it. He could certainly find some loose clothes. At the very least he could see if there was anything in blue…

He’d just finished his own small breakfast - lunch, honestly, it was certainly late enough in the day - when the sound of something breaking alerted him to something wrong. 

Not every private room in the hospital wing of the castle had a bathroom attached, but this one did. He was grateful that this was the one Black Raisin had taken Shadow Milk to while he was busy yesterday. The convenience of being able to avoid any nosy cookies was very… handy, right about now. 

Hurriedly, Pure Vanilla ran to the bathroom door and knocked, staff in hand. “Shadow Milk? Are you okay? I heard glass..!” 

“Your Majesty?” Black Raisin Cookie, who had yet to leave his side this morning, eyed the bathroom critically. 

“One moment!” 

He didn't hear anything for a moment, then a muffled sob. 

“Come in already, stupid.” Shadow Milk’s raspy voice came through. 

“Everything is okay, just let me handle this?” He pleaded with Black Raisin before entering. 

Pure Vanilla inched the door open, peering in staff first. Once he found Shadow Milk he rushed to his side. 

It was the mirror. He sat on the ground in front of the broken sugar glass, pieces everywhere. He hadn't even gotten in the bathtub yet, despite the sparkling water running and rolling steam across the bathroom. Pure Vanilla stopped to turn it off before it overfilled. 

“Oh Shadow Milk,” He said, unsure where to even begin addressing… whatever this was. 

He didn't even look up. “Don't. Don't fucking- don't fucking look at me with your stupid pity and your stupid-” His voice shook too hard to continue. Shadow Milk clutched at his face, curled over his knees. 

“What do you need? How can I help?” Pure Vanilla knelt next to him, checking carefully for any cuts from the glass. He had a few on his legs. He didn't want to touch him yet, though. Not while he was still… shaking. 

“Shut up.” Shadow Milk mumbled, not moving. 

Well he wasn't sure if Shadow Milk wanted silence or if he just didn't want to talk about it, but Pure Vanilla could do both. He hummed soothingly before getting up and gathering the shards of glass in a sweep of his staff, floating them to the trash can. Then he checked that the bath was a good temperature. Plenty of soap, it looked like Shadow Milk had dumped half a bottle of bubble bath in. 

Very gently Pure Vanilla returned to his side and put a hand on his shoulder. Shadow Milk flinched hard at first, then slumped further. He didn't try to lean away from him so that was a good sign. 

A guiding hand brought Shadow Milk to sitting up and another hand under his elbow helped him to his feet. He went where Pure Vanilla guided, blind faith or just lack of care making him pliable. Pure Vanilla worried which one it was. He had him lean against the tub so he could clean the cuts on his legs and check them for debris. A quick healing spell had them gone, purple jam smeared around unbroken dough again. 

It gave Pure Vanilla a closer look at Shadow Milk’s scarred legs and the way they trembled underneath him. It couldn't just be the scarring, could it? Something else was going on there. 

He helped Shadow Milk into the bath. The beast cookie didn't open his eyes at all, just sat in a slump. 

“Can I wash your icing, please?” Pure Vanilla said as softly as he dared. “I'm worried there could be cuts further in, behind all this…” 

Shadow Milk winced. His hands came up over the jagged tufts on the side of his head. 

“...don't-” He stuttered a few times, eyes opening to stare out into space. He was silent for a long few minutes, unmoving, before he spoke again. “...okay.” 

Pure Vanilla made sure to be as careful as he could, meticulous as he first picked through his hair for any cuts or injuries buried beneath the icing. Shadow Milk covered his face and trembled despite the warm bath. 

There didn't appear to be any cuts left behind, thankfully, besides the… remains of one single eyecing left on one side. Pure Vanilla considered heavily how to even begin to go about it. The whole of the eyecing wasn't there anymore, just about a third of it, the rest cut off jaggedly. He could only tell it was originally an eye because of his own knowledge on Shadow Milk’s eyecing- the eye was unrecognizable crusted shut with dark, dried jam. It just looked like a piece of some jelly had gotten stuck in his hair. Especially given most cookies bled red strawberry jam, not… purple. 

“Shadow Milk?” He asked carefully, resting a hand on his shoulder. Touching him always had him flinching- but he also always relaxed shortly after, sometimes even leaned back into the touch. So until Shadow Milk told him to stop he would keep reaching out. 

Shadow Milk grunted at him from behind his hands. 

“Do you want me to remove what's left of this eye?” He asked very gently. “Or try to heal it? I don't think it can be repaired, but… it's up to you.” He personally would suggest removing it to avoid any complications or possible infections… but he wasn't going to make that choice for him. 

Shadow Milk was already shaking his head rapidly. “No- don't- don't take it- don't cut it off-” 

“Shh, it's okay, I won't touch it. Just heal it and then wash your icing, okay?” 

Shadow Milk didn't talk for a while after that, just kept his face covered and let Pure Vanilla do as he would. 

Healing it didn't do much. He did have to touch it, unfortunately, just to get all the dried jam off after. He apologized as he did so. The eyecing left behind didn't have a pupil, just a spot of glazed over blue in his short hair. But he would leave it be so long as Shadow Milk wanted to keep it. 

Cleaning the rest of his icing went quickly, with so little of it to wash. He wished he could at least trim it to be a little more even - but he wouldn't dare do that right now. Kneading soap into his hair was already turning Shadow Milk uncannily silent. And he kept shivering. 

“There we are,” Pure Vanilla said, running his hands through the icing. “A little closer to your usual colors, hm?” Shadow Milk didn’t move or speak. “Here, I’ll let you wash yourself, I’ll just be right here to make sure you’re okay.” He pulled a small chair over, turning his back to the bathtub. “Try not to soak too long, it may be sparkling water but we wouldn’t want you to get soggy.” Pure Vanilla almost wanted to ask if he could get soggy… but decided to just take a rest sitting in his chair, staff turned around as well. 

It took a few minutes, but water began to swish around as Shadow Milk moved to bathe himself. Pure Vanilla hummed to himself quietly as liquid swished around. 

Enough time had passed that the sounds stopped and he felt confident enough that Shadow Milk must be done. 

“Go ahead and ask.” Shadow Milk said dully. 

Pure Vanilla frowned slightly, not turning around just yet. “Hmm… did the warmth help your wrists and ankles?” 

“...what?” 

“The scarring is rather deep and thick, I’ve been worried it’s impacting your mobility.” He clarified. “Did the warm sparkling water help the scars loosen up a bit? If not, there’s various things to be done for scar tissue. Wax therapy is something that was introduced recently that you can try-” 

“You’re ridiculous.” Shadow Milk muttered. Liquid swished and began to drain out of the tub. “...yeah it kinda helped my stupid arms and legs.” 

Pure Vanilla smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.” 

Chapter Text

Shadow Milk walked himself into the damn bathroom, thank you. He wasn’t that much of a fucking invalid. He had to find the door very carefully and wobbled the whole way, but he did it without that stupid goody-two-shoes helping. Even if it took him way too long while Pure Vanilla was gone. 

The bathtub felt condescending, but it looked comfortable enough. It had railings and a seat inside with ridges. Less likely to slip and trip at least, when his stupid legs didn’t work and his magic absolutely wasn’t responding. He turned the faucet on curiously. Sparkling water. Very fancy, nice. Shadow Milk dug around a nearby cabinet until he found a big bottle of something sugary and soapy smelling and squeezed some in. Measure bubble bath with your heart, he always said. And his heart said more bubbles. 

The only thing he was wearing was a pair of shorts, so he took those off with some difficulty and tossed them into a trash can he had to spend too long scanning the room for. He missed. With a glare, Shadow Milk pretended he’d meant to do that and turned back around. 

While waiting for the bath to fill he took the effort to actually look around, even if it was more like a slideshow with how messed up his eyes were. 

…there was a mirror. Shadow Milk knew it was probably not a great idea, but he braced himself and looked into it. 

Well. He looked about as awful as he felt. He definitely didn’t look like himself. He was pale and his stupid, stupid hair was so scraggly and messy. The scar on his chest looked about as gnarly as ever. Funny that it felt much worse than it looked.  

Shadow Milk leaned in close, trying to spot even one eye left, even if he knew it was pointless. He didn’t need to see the eyes in his hair to know they weren't there. If they were there he could just open them and look around. 

But no, he was a sucker for pain, because he had to find every bit of icing where an eye had been cut off and stare at it for five minutes like it would magically grow back. 

Sure, his eyes would magically grow back, but it would take… a long time, with his magic not working. 

Then there was the eyecing that was just a tiny piece left. At least it wasn’t completely gone. At least he had something. A reminder. 

“Why do you keep struggling so?” He cursed, hand going to hold a hunk of icing still. 

“Ffffuck you-” He gasped, breathing heavily, feeling panic, trying to pull away but the stupid stupid chains kept him still. 

“If you keep struggling, I cannot cut around them.” He warned as if trying to do him a favor. 

Snip snip snip, icing cut away and another eye gone, sensation and uncountable streams of information stripped from him with each loss. Pulled away from the snipped away icing and placed within a jar with the rest. 

“Stop- stop-!” He thrashed. He wouldn’t let this bastard strip away parts of him and keep them in a jar like a souvenir-

“My Lord-!” He cursed. 

An eye went dark. Shadow Milk screamed. Glowing silver shears cut through eyecing halfway, stuck. “STOP STOP STOP STOP-” It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt- 

“Now see what you’ve made me do-!” He fretted, instantly letting go. “And it’s stuck- these weren’t made to cut icing, much less eyecing. Stars above, Lord, hold still-” 

Chains lashed further around him, pulling his head back to the point he was choking, couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Could feel that cursed metal biting and slicing into his dough and pulling further and further- 

“There, that’ll hold you still, Lord Shadow Milk.” He said confidently. The shears moved and Shadow Milk screamed. “My apologies my Lord, but I warned you. The shears are stuck now. I have to cut them back out, don’t I?” Sawing into his eyecing until with a sickly snip the eyecing came free with a hunk of hair. “There we are.” 

He held up the mangled half of eyecing to show him. The eye was already melting, losing form, turning into blue goop in his hand. He let it fall onto Shadow Milk’s face where it dripped across one of his eyes, winced shut. 

“There.” His voice was hard and bitter. “A waste of a beautiful eye. This is why you should listen to me. I only have your best interests at heart, after all.” 

Moving, shuffling, he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t need to, but for the first time in a long time it felt like he did need precious air and couldn't get to it. Maybe it was just the magical metal biting into his neck. 

“I only want to make you stronger, my Lord.” Whispers in his ear. Shadow Milk trembled, choking. The chains loosened and he gasped for breath, leaning forward again. “This is merely to keep your dough malleable, keep you vulnerable to the changes I’m trying to bring. Don't you see?” 

He heaved as his head was grabbed and he was forced to look forward, see the mirror in front of him. A blue mushroom cap hovered above him, glasses shining in the light. Red sap dripped from the edge like a sore and landed on Shadow Milk’s face. He winced, still trying to breathe. It dripped slowly down his cheek next to the melted eyecing. 

“You can’t resist me.” He purred, hand stroking the bleeding eyecing in his hair. Shadow Milk cried out at the sting. “If you resist, you’ll be hurt further, and neither of us truly want that do we?” 

“Fffuck you.” Shadow Milk sobbed, eyes closing. “I’m g-going to-” 

“Crumble me?” The cookie sighed dreamily. “Yes, once you are perfect, once you are even stronger and more powerful than ever. Then you will crumble all in your path and it will be glorious.” He pet the shorn side of his head with a sickening smile. “Until then, my Lord, do not resist, I only mean you well. Now stay still so we can avoid such nasty accidents again, hm?” 

The chains were too tight to thrash so much anymore, but he loosened them enough that he could have tried. Shadow Milk did not try again, still shivering from the stinging pain. 

He kept his eyes closed so he didn’t have to see the cookie standing behind him smiling and humming merrily as he chopped his extra limbs away. He kept his eyes closed so he didn’t have to see as he was blinded, one by one, as extrasensory abilities he’d long forgotten his eyes gave him were stripped away. 

Shadow Milk gasped, crying out. A hand had fisted in the remains of the jagged eye and used it as a handle to pull his head up. 

“Look, my Lord. Look at you.” A coo. He opened his eyes but he couldn’t see- “Just a little further and you’ll be the perfect canvas. Bring you just a little closer to the level of a pitiful, normal cookie… and you'll be just right.” 

He couldn’t see anything in the mirror in front of him, just his blue his blue his blue his blue his blue- 

Shadow Milk threw something, anything, to break the mirror, to make it stop. 

Sugar glass shattered and rained around him in a cacophony of noise. He fell to his knees, ignoring the pain slicing into them, and covered his face. He was such a fucking idiot. Such a fucking moron.

It took him Pure Vanilla's whole good samaritan routine and an entire bath for the knife's edge of rage and helplessness to ease up. 

Shadow Milk got out of the tub and his legs felt like jelly. So much like jelly, in fact, that he almost collapsed. 

Pure Vanilla had an arm around him in an instant, worry practically emanating off of him. 

“Are you alright?” 

He didn’t respond, groaning and cursing under his breath. The hot water had relaxed his legs a little too much. 

He was guided to a seat and gently toweled off. Shadow Milk found himself too exhausted to care. His arms weren’t much sturdier than his legs right now. Pure Vanilla was nice about it and careful to press the towel gently against any scars. 

When he got to his chest, Shadow Milk grabbed his wrist weakly, teeth clenched. Pure Vanilla let him pat his chest dry himself, careful of tender wounds. 

“Let’s get you back to bed and I’ll see about getting that collar off.” Pure Vanilla said, a touch of disdain in his voice. 

He helped slide on some clothes, Shadow Milk not resisting. Loose, airy pants and a soft sweater with smooth cloth that wouldn’t catch on his chest. He couldn’t express how much better he felt just having his torso covered for the first time in… he didn’t even know. Time didn’t seem to exist, lately. 

Pure Vanilla helped him out of the bathroom and towards the bed. Shadow Milk let him because it was easier to focus on walking if he didn’t have to wonder where the hell he was going. He sat against a pile of pillows and felt the plush covers and didn’t feel like vomiting, so that was a plus. 

“Your Majesty.” It was Serious Cookie’s voice again. 

“How many times have I said not to call me that?” Pure Vanilla sighed and shook his head, the motion noticeable as close as they were. “Oh- Shadow Milk Cookie, I suppose I never introduced you- this is my dear friend Black Raisin Cookie. She helped keep an eye on you while I was busy with my other patients. And may do so for the foreseeable future.” The healer cookie resettled on the bed next to Shadow Milk, hands going up to the sides of the collar. “Let’s get this nasty thing off you now, shall we?” 

Please. 

Shadow Milk sighed and leaned his head back against the pillows. He could feel the magic vibrating against his dough as Pure Vanilla worked. It was far more comfortable than his magic. His soul jam panged a few times, but it was a bit different than the usual agonizing throbbing so he only grunted curiously. 

He didn’t know how much time passed before there was a musical clang and the pressure of cursed metal tightened, loosened, and then disappeared in a burst of magical light he could see through his eyelids. Shadow Milk blinked his eyes open rapidly. He felt for his throat. Nothing. Scarring, actually, and a bit damp, but no metal. 

He breathed in and out slowly, trying to not burst into a truly ridiculous show of tears. He felt nauseous with relief. A part of him didn’t think Pure Vanilla would remove the collar. So few things could truly control him, after all. Why give up what little power any cookie had over him? 

Then again, he was pretty fucking pathetic right now. Couldn’t even use a wisp of magic. Did he even pose a threat to anyone? 

“Shadow Milk?” Pure Vanilla had a hand against his, over the side of his neck. The touch soothed his soul jam into panging far less. 

“Mm.” He sighed heavily, aware his face was covered in tears right now. He might not be sobbing like an infant but he couldn’t stop the flood from pouring down his cheeks. 

“Let me bandage up your neck?” Pure Vanilla asked softly. “The support might help with the scarring on your wrists and ankles too.” 

“...okay.” 

The bandages did help. At the least they felt tight and supportive without pinching or feeling restraining. And it was easy to roll down the baggy sleeves and legs to cover them up. 

“Is it okay if I look at your chest? Maybe bandage it too?” 

He didn’t respond, arms crossed over, pressing smooth fluffy fabric into the throbbing souljam. No. Nobody was ever allowed to look at his chest ever again. 

“That’s okay.” Pure Vanilla soothed, annoyingly soft and mushy. “...can you answer a few questions about it? Just so I can know how to help?” 

Shadow Milk didn’t speak, but he slowly nodded. 

“Alright. Does it actively hurt?” 

Nod. 

“And me being around makes it hurt less?” 

Nod. 

“Is it just proximity? Or touch?” 

He didn’t know, just frowned a bit. The closer together they were the better, but… he couldn’t say. 

“Alright, we’ll try to see if we can get that any better. On a scale from one to ten, when I’m not around, how bad does it hurt?” 

Shadow Milk laughed. “Where on that scale,” He rasped. “Does having your chest carved open while conscious land? Because it-” He closed his eyes so the room wouldn’t spin. “It hasn’t exactly improved from that glorious start. Certainly hasn’t gotten any better.”  

Pure Vanilla nodded slowly. He could practically feel the pity radiating from him. He cleared his throat. “When I’m around you, say, in the same bed next to you right now, what would you rate the pain?” 

Shadow Milk had to actually contemplate that. “Eight..?” 

“Okay. And when we’re actively touching?” He scooted closer so he could sit right next to Shadow Milk. He wanted to lean into him and just melt. Pure Vanilla encouraged him by wrapping an arm around his shoulders and Shadow Milk slid into his side without any shame because the lack of pain was addictive. “Shadow Milk?” He prompted. 

Shadow Milk grunted in annoyance. “Mm… like… a five.” It became possible to really think beyond half-lucid wanderings. Though he didn’t want to think, he wanted to lay down and actually fall asleep without the pain keeping him from falling into oblivion. 

“That’s good, that’s good.” Pure Vanilla hummed, rubbing his shoulder gently. He was quiet for a minute, making Shadow Milk almost doze off. “That truly is your soul jam in your chest, isn’t it?” He spoke so quietly that for a bit Shadow Milk almost thought he’d imagined it. 

He opened his eyes to look at him, focusing them with a great deal of effort because he was tired. Pure Vanilla’s face was full of sorrow. His eyecing was suspiciously shiny and wet. Pathetic. 

“The fuck else do you think is in there?” He muttered, watching as Pure Vanilla looked regretful. 

“I’m sorry he did that to you.” Pure Vanilla said quietly. 

“I don’t want your stupid pity.” 

Pure Vanilla huffed softly, blinking a few times and straightening with a dry swallow. “You said, before, that removing it would crumble you.” 

“Mhm.” 

“And something about an explosion..?” 

His mouth dried up. “His theory. I don’t- I’m not talking about him.” 

“Okay, of course, no worries.” Pure Vanilla nodded. “So taking it out… isn’t an option.” 

“No.” Shadow Milk bit out. That was the real fuckin kicker to it all. 

“But leaving it in… do you know what it’ll do to you? What is even the point..?” 

He wasn’t going to talk about that cookie’s theories, his plan to elevate Shadow Milk’s power closer to the level he had been before the Silver Tree and having his power stripped away. He wasn’t even a fraction as powerful as he was before, after the escape. The ‘point’ was to give him a more personal access to the power of the halved soul jam to get him closer to his original strength. Whatever it took, whether it was his choice or not. 

Shadow Milk wasn’t going to tell any cookie that shit. Not even mister goody two shoes Light of Truth himself. 

“I can’t use my magic.” Shadow Milk rasped instead, snuggling into his side and pretending it wasn’t as pitiful as it was. “Can’t feel it. Well. Magically. I sure do feel it physically, ahaha..!” Pure Vanilla soothed his broken giggles with a squeeze of the shoulder. 

“Your magic… it wasn't just the chains keeping you from..?” Pure Vanilla muttered. 

“Nope..!” Shadow Milk enjoyed the lack of mind-numbing pain woozily. “Congrats. Got me aaaall to yourself. No tricks, no skills, no abilities, can't even get up and walk in a straight line.” 

“Shadow Milk Cookie…” Silly Vanilly sounded hurt. 

“What? Don't tell me every silly little cookie in the Vanilla Kingdom isn't already celebrating having the Beast of Deceit on a leash. Ohhh, did you tell them you took it off? I bet they're not very happy with youuu~” He giggled. He felt great. Well he still felt shitty actually, but the muuuuch better pain level was making him feel pretty funny. 

“Not many are pleased with knowing you're in the castle.” Vanilly admitted, hand petting his icing all soft and gentle. “But the only cookies who know you're even in the Kingdom right now are my medical staff and whatever cookies are involved in the investigation.” 

“Ohh, so they can spread the word that the great Shadow Milk Cookie is broken at your feet~? That's a great idea! Ratings will be through the roof: His Majesty Pure Vanilla Cookie, has a broken beast cookie as his own personal pet. I can see the headlines now-” 

“No, no it's not like that.” Aw, Silly Vanilly sounded all hurt. His grip around him started to tighten. 

“Psh, then what is it like, Silly Vanilly?” He grinned blindly into the air, eyes lidded comfortably. Mmm he wanted a nap. 

Vanilla took a deep, calming breath. His grip loosened a tad. “I would have to touch base with the medical cookies and the investigation team to see what they think of everything. But I don’t think of you as a prisoner or a-a… a pet. Never. I see you as a cookie who has committed many wrongs. but still doesn't deserve any of what's happening to him right now.” 

Shadow Milk focused his eyes enough to see him, see the lie on his face. Except he couldn't see any lie. Which said Nilly probably was getting better at them. 

“Whatever you say, Vanilly.” He smiled lazily. 

No deception. If anything, Pure Vanilla Cookie just looked sad. How pathetic. Mourning him? Pah. 

“If it's any help, I don't see you as either of those things either. More just a pain in the butt.” 

Shadow Milk blinked and turned his head to the dark blur that was apparently Black Raisin Cookie. 

“...you're still here?” He didn't even have it in him to be embarrassed, just a little befuddled she'd been standing by the far side of the room silently for who knew how long. Just… listening to them talk..? Had she left when they were in the bathroom? He didn't think she'd been in the bathroom, at least… 

“Had to make sure you didn't snuggle His Majesty to crumbs.” She deadpanned. 

Shadow Milk went through the effort to actually look at the cookie. She stood stock still with a raisin crow on her shoulder, face utterly expressionless. 

He couldn't help the actual smile growing on his face as he started to laugh. 

“Black Raisin Cookie!” Pure Vanilla said, sounding offended and embarrassed. 

“What?” She said, still deadpan. 

Shadow Milk laughed even harder. 

Chapter Text

Pure Vanilla Cookie didn't ask Shadow Milk Cookie much more, because after laughing like it was the first joke he'd heard in years the beast cookie fell asleep pretty quickly. He'd been dozing in and out before then so Pure Vanilla had expected it, truthfully. 

He only halfway expected it to involve Shadow Milk drooling against his legs, but that was fine. He'd sort of… migrated his way down to Pure Vanilla's lap somewhere along the line. Pure Vanilla didn't mind as much as even he thought he ought to. 

Shadow Milk looked… a lot better, at least. Still pale and ragged but with his icing cleaned up and wearing comfortable looking clothes that covered all the wounds and bandages except the few peeking out around his neck… he looked better. Not like himself, but still better. 

Pure Vanilla considered the low cut sweater. He should try to find some turtlenecks. Maybe Shadow Milk would prefer the bandages covered there as well… 

He quietly asked Black Raisin to bring him a pen and paper, not that he thought his voice would cause so much as a stir. But he should be polite to the cookie literally sleeping on his lap. 

He just wrote down possible ideas to help Shadow Milk so he wouldn't forget. There was a lot on his mind, after all. Longer sweaters. Talk to him about bandaging his chest, potentially, as the pressure might be helpful. Gentle testing to see what the best range of distance would be to keep his pain levels low… they couldn't be directly touching every minute of the day after all. Just for practicality’s sake. 

He wrote one quick note to see if Shadow Milk would eat. He said he didn't have to. Pure Vanilla wasn't positive if that was true or not, but it didn't seem wise to just eat nothing. 

He wished he could ask Shadow Milk more questions about Blue Mushroom Cookie. But he'd shut those questions down immediately when they happened, beyond his initial description, and Pure Vanilla didn't want to… push him. Not when his eyes went wild and his hands shook every time he was brought up. He couldn't imagine Shadow Milk as ever wanting to talk about the cookie. He didn't blame him, but also… it would help. A lot. He wrote down the possibility of asking questions on Blue Mushroom Cookie but noted that it was most likely too soon. 

At the least, to help with the distance issue, Pure Vanilla could probably share a bed with him for now. It would help, he thought. Constantly being at an 8 level of pain and above could not be good for Shadow Milk. It wasn't good for any cookie. He almost acted drunk when they were together. That couldn't be a good sign, right? 

He sighed and added finding books on mental resources to the list. Not very many cookies studied the field, but it may come in handy. Shadow Milk may be excluded - did beasts work similarly enough to normal cookies on a psychological level? - but it would at least help him with the other rescued cookies. 

“Your Majesty,” Black Raisin interrupted him from where he'd… almost begun to doze off. 

“Ah, my apologies-” He yawned and rubbed his eyes. His staff eyed the clock on the bedside table. It was about time for his appointments scheduled for the afternoon. Goodness, he'd slept in rather late. 

Pure Vanilla looked down at Shadow Milk, leaving a little puddle of drool on his robe. 

He was very slow and careful as he shifted Shadow Milk aside and onto the pillows. He shifted uneasily a few times. Let out a small whine in his sleep, hands twitching. Pure Vanilla tucked the blankets around him gently. He rubbed Shadow Milk’s shoulder until he went still again, then carefully extracted himself off the bed. 

When he turned around Black Raisin Cookie was giving him a very strong Look. 

“...what?” He brushed his robes off, smoothing the wrinkles out. He would have to go to his own rooms and change into clean clothes…

She sighed and shook her head. 

“If you could stay and keep an eye on him, I would appreciate it.” He moved to check that his hat wasn't crooked and ignored her judging stare. 

She inclined her head in confirmation. He smiled at his friend in thanks. There were guards outside the door, but he preferred having someone keeping their eyes on Shadow Milk in case something happened. There was so little they knew about his condition right now… for all they knew, he wasn't nearly as stable as he looked. Which really made him feel paranoid about leaving Shadow Milk alone right now… but he couldn't just discard all of his responsibilities for the other cookie right now. (Even if, inexplicably, he really wanted to ditch it all to stay and take a nap by Shadow Milk’s side.)

Sleepytime Tea Cookie's room was small and very plain, so there were fewer things for him to run into. Every time they'd had him move somewhere he'd floated around a good foot above the ground. But he also ran into doors and bumped into tables, due to his eyes permanently being closed or lidded near shut with sleep. 

At least they didn't have to worry about him hurting himself in an accident. Despite their worries, Sleepytime Tea Cookie hadn't even left the bed. Hadn't woken up at all according to his nurse who yawned and rubbed their eyecing tiredly. 

“He's been floating nonstop since we left him, even while asleep.” The nurse blinked forcefully. “I'm also not sure if it's his pleasant scent or something else, but every cookie nearby has been having a hard time staying awake.” 

“I see. Has any cookie tried to wake him up?” 

“For lunch.” They yawned loudly and then blushed in embarrassment. “I'm still not sure if he actually woke or simply ate while asleep.” 

“Very well. Let's see if we can wake him up now, hm?” 

Next to him, Detective Almond Cookie had his arms crossed with the trademark scowl he'd had every time Pure Vanilla Cookie had seen him. 

Sleepytime Tea Cookie was a pale, cream colored cookie near milky with how light his dough was. His floor length hair was a shifting array of creams and lavender. And, tellingly, his entire room smelled like the chamomile-based tea that was baked into his dough. 

It took some doing, but he was eventually woken up and sat yawning at a table across from Detective Almond Cookie while Pure Vanilla ran some scans on him. 

Overall, Sleepytime was a healthy, if thin and brittle cookie. His icing was smooth and healthy as well, quite the contrast from Shadow Milk’s as Pure Vanilla began to sift through it with permission. Detective Almond Cookie asked questions while Pure Vanilla looked for further clues. 

Deep within the folds of thick icing, Pure Vanilla Cookie found blue eyes buried. A far cry from the green eyecing on Sleepytime's face. Even more telling… they were a very specific blue. Closed. But very, very familiar eyecing nonetheless. 

Once Detective Almond Cookie finished up a few average questions, Pure Vanilla spoke up. 

“Sleepytime - if I may call you that? Can you see through these?” 

The cookie had his back to Pure Vanilla, but there was a telling pause. 

“Hm..? The new eyes..?” He said softly, shifting in his seat. “Um… sort of..? Blue Cookie guy kept trying to make me look through them, but it kept giving me headaches and making it harder to stay awake than usual.” In front of him, Pure Vanilla watched the eyes shift and try to blink open clumsily. It was ineffective. 

“Blue Mushroom Cookie?” Detective Almond clarified. Sleepytime hummed an affirmative. “And you know that he was the cookie who did this to you?” 

“Yeah, I don't remember it but he talked about it enough. Kept going on and on about how the ‘implantation’ was a success, it was just me who was a failure.” Sleepytime muttered. “Guy sure loves to hear himself talk. But didn't like to let me talk and explain it freaking hurt.” 

“You can't see out of them, and it causes you pain?” Pure Vanilla asked, concerned. “Do they hurt now?” 

“Yeah, but it's only like lowkey until I try to use them.” He admitted. “It's like… you ever take a nap in a perfectly quiet, dark room and it's soooo cozy, but then you wake up and walk into another room and everything is crazy loud and bright? Yeah, it's kinda like that, but like cranked up to a hundred. So much it's painful. Even when they aren't open I swear I can feel and see things. I couldn't used to float, before, but once those things showed up I could see and feel the air, man.” He frowned, arms wrapping around himself. 

He could… see the air? Like… the gas molecules that made it up? Was that an ability Shadow Milk had..?

“When was the last time you saw Blue Mushroom Cookie?” Detective Almond pushed. 

“Could not tell you, dude.” Sleepytime shook his head, yawning. “I sleep… all the time cause my main ingredient, and it got worse when he put me in a tiny room with no noise and gave me headaches all the time.” He huffed, rubbing at his hair. “And do you know how hard it is to brush your icing when there's eyecing in it? Owch.” 

Sleepytime Tea Cookie ultimately, besides the eyes, did not have either any more problems with his health or many answers to Detective Almond Cookie's questions. He could give a description and that was about it. It was better than nothing, Vanilla supposed.

“Hello there, it's okay, I don't plan on hurting you.” Pure Vanilla ducked down next to a bed, trying to smile warmly at the occupant hiding underneath it. The feral cookie was huddled underneath the bed and refusing to come out. Whatever Blue Mushroom Cookie had done to her had thoroughly and terribly scared her beyond sense. 

It took a lot of coaxing, but Pure Vanilla Cookie managed to convince her to at least sit on top of the bed. Even if she huddled over herself like a hound. He couldn't tell if she was naturally like this or if the dark sprinkles and thick icing fur across her back, chest, and arms was something that had been done to her. She did have actually external wolf-like ears and a tail, so either option was fully possible. 

“Shhh, here, eat some jellies, okay? You're safe.” Pure Vanilla soothed, passing her a single jelly at a time. 

The silver cookie took them slowly, twisting it in her claws, examining it and eyeing him fearfully before gnawing on them. Pure Vanilla wondered if she ate meat jellies more than other kinds. It would possibly make sense. She didn't seem to much care for basic jellybeans, even though she was worryingly thin underneath all that icing. 

Detective Almond Cookie had been growled at, so he was standing by the door away from them listening in. She kept glancing at him unsurely. But at least she seemed to be relaxing around Pure Vanilla. 

“Do you have a name?” He asked gently, passing another jelly over. 

She winced heavily, head shaking. “Nnnnnngh- nnno…” Her eyes closed. She took the jelly, claws sinking into it rather than eating. “Mmm… wolf… wolf mold…” 

“Wolf Mold Cookie?” Pure Vanilla guessed. It sounded oddly familiar… 

She looked confused, frowning, then shook her head. 

“Is that your type of cookie, maybe?” Almond Cookie tried. 

She snapped at him, even so far away, over-large fangs bared. 

“It could be…” Pure Vanilla considered. “My friend, do you know the cookie who did this to you? Blue Mushroom Cookie?” 

She whimpered and nearly dashed for under the bed again, eyes wide and wild. 

“Shhh, it's okay, he's not here. He can't hurt you ever again. You're safe here.” Pure Vanilla assured her again and again until she was still. 

“Ssssafe?” Her ears were flattened, tail stiff behind her as she crouched on the bed. “B-Blue- nnnnot here?” 

“No, Blue Mushroom Cookie is not here. You will never have to see him again.” He reached a hand out to her. 

She tenderly placed her hand in his, large claws pricking his dough. He ignored it to gently squeeze until she relaxed a bit. 

“We want to make sure he doesn't hurt any other cookie. Can you answer some questions about him and what he did for us?” 

She gave Detective Almond Cookie a distrustful look. He really wished he knew what had her so up in arms about him, he was a perfectly respectable and professional cookie… sure he was rather intimidating, but not that bad, right? 

“Detective Almond Cookie is here because it’s his responsibility to find Blue Mushroom Cookie and bring him to justice. He doesn’t have to get close if you don’t want him to, but he will ask you some questions.” 

“Q-ques-tions?” Bright yellow eyecing flickered between the two. 

“Such as what he was doing to you.” Detective Almond Cookie said, in what was probably a gentle voice for him but still came out as rather abrupt. 

“Wolf mold cookies…” She placed her other hand on her chest, looking distant in a familiar way. “Grr… get… alone… big… angry, feral, stronger… B-Blue… m-make feral…” Her ears fell, shaking her head. “Make… stronger…” 

…Pure Vanilla was sensing a theme, of sorts… he supposed at least he had confirmation that wolf mold was her type of cookie, not her name. “He wanted to make you feral to make you stronger?” 

She nodded reluctantly. “Hurt. Hurt lot… lot to… to try feral…” She sniffled, eyecing wet and shiny. She hid behind her shaggy bangs. “Work… part. Not feral. But close.” She looked down at her large claws with shame. 

“I don’t think you’re feral.” Pure Vanilla assured. “Perhaps he did begin whatever process this is, but you’re still talking and reasoning, aren’t you?” 

She looked up at him. Slowly, a spark of hope lit on her face. “...talking. Not allowed. Try to… feral me.” She grinned toothily, massive fangs popping out. “Still talking. Not feral..! Not work..!” 

She was considerably more cooperative after that, though her information was even more scattered than Sleepytime’s. The process of making her ‘feral’ had scrambled her head and memories quite a bit it would seem. When Pure Vanilla tried to ask where she was from - perhaps she had family they could contact for her - she only shook her head in confusion and said ‘cold’. Yet another thing he may have to ask Dark Cacao about, if he knew anything about ‘wolf mold cookies’. 

Making her feral included… a lot of hurting her on purpose without crumbling her. Much of her testimony was frazzled and tear filled, or simply unspoken. Blue Mushroom had spared her no kindness. A far cry from the plushly decorated room Shadow Milk had been chained in. 

It spoke of pre-meditated cruelty. It said a lot about what Blue Mushroom Cookie was like, that he was capable of modifying his behavior for each and every cookie he was manipulating. At least according to Detective Almond. Pure Vanilla Cookie had simply held her hand and tried to not be sick. 

Different levels of cruelty, stacked on top of each other. He already knew much of what they had from Sesame Snap Cookie. He didn’t want to hear more.

Almond Cookie got about three bluntly phrased questions into his interview with Sesame Snap Cookie before her light yellow hair darkened into a deep, magic fueled purple and molten chocolate swirls were hurled as she shrieked in unholy fury. Pure Vanilla Cookie dragged the Detective out of the room - sturdy and with a lot less amenities, as she was already proving prone to breaking things - and spent ten minutes carefully healing the burn on his face so it would not scar. 

“Wicked aim on that lass.” Detective Almond said with… approval? He hissed as a patch of blackened dough peeled off to reveal healthy dough underneath. 

“Perhaps you should have been more gentle with your choice of words.” Pure Vanilla Cookie said tentatively. Behind them the sounds of destruction from Sesame Snap’s room petered out and were followed by frantic sobbing. 

“I am not a very gentle cookie.” He winced. 

“So I see.”

“You know I will have to interview Shadow Milk Cookie as well, your Majesty.” Detective Almond reminded not unkindly. “You can’t hide the beast away forever either.” 

“It has hardly even been twenty-four hours-” Pure Vanilla rubbed his forehead, throbbing with a headache. 

“The first twenty-four hours is the prime time to get the most information and begin to act before the trail goes cold.” Almond countered. 

“We don’t even know how long it’s been since Blue Mushroom Cookie was last at the property, we could be well past the twenty-four hour mark-” 

“You weren’t like this with the other three victims.” Detective Almond took a step back, assessing him. “What is so different about Shadow Milk Cookie? Besides being the Beast of Deceit with a rap sheet a century long, of course.” 

Pure Vanilla sighed, unsure where to begin. “Sesame Snap Cookie is violent. Sleepytime is uncaring, if with a bit of a grudge. Our as of yet unnamed wolf mold cookie is violently afraid and terrified out of her icing. Shadow Milk is… something else.” 

“Go on.” Detective Almond’s eyes watched him without judgement. Or at least without any more judgement than he gave every other cookie. Pure Vanilla oddly appreciated it. 

“I… I do not know how to word it, to a normal cookie. No offense!” He quickly stated. “But it’s…” He thought about it. Detective Almond Cookie had read the report. He knew already what was inside Shadow Milk’s chest. “You know we're keeping his exact condition… within the medical staff for the most part.” Almond Cookie nodded seriously.

“His soul jam, right?” The Detective said quietly. 

Pure Vanilla nodded. “Do you know what a soul jam is, Detective?” 

“Can't say that I do. You Ancients and your fancy jellies aren't usually involved in my lines of work.” 

“Soul jams are like a soul made physical. A part of you. A part of the world. It’s… I simply do not have the words for it. Blue Mushroom Cookie may have damaged the minds and bodies of the others, but Shadow Milk? He went even deeper. He… he hurt him on a soul deep level. And I do not know how to help that.” Pure Vanilla admitted tiredly. “I know how to heal every physical ailment a cookie can have. I have studied up on hundreds of years of academic advancement on cookie psychology and how to coach a cookie through the worst of life's challenges. But how do you repair a soul?” 

To his credit, Detective Almond Cookie grunted without saying a word in protest, looking deeply thoughtful with his typical frown. 

“Come on. We're headed out.” He pulled his jacket off and slung it over his shoulder. 

“Pardon?” Pure Vanilla followed, but still, he was confused. 

“I need a cup of coffee after all of that. You clearly need an entire espresso bar, but we can settle for a decent cup of joe down the street.” 

Pure Vanilla was confused still, but felt a little warm. And a little concerned. 

“You’ve drank at least six cups of coffee over the course of the three hours we’ve been working together; you know, cookies that aren’t caffeine based can have serious effects as a result of overconsumption of caffeinated beverages-” 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the cop? Shut up and enjoy the brew, your Majesty.” 

Chapter Text

Shadow Milk woke up to the same miserable ache in his chest he’d had for it felt like forever. He grumbled, curling up into a ball. The soft material against his chest at least felt nice. Except he wasn’t… allowed to wear shirts..? 

Ah… not… not there anymore. Right. He pressed his hand tentatively against the soft sweater, feeling the lumps beneath his dough. They ached. But not as bad as it usually did. He sat up slowly with a disgruntled groan. 

There was the sound of feathers shuffling and he briefly swung his head to the noise. A black blob. He squinted until it resolved and oh yeah. Serious Cookie. Black Raisin Cookie. That one. 

“Do you ever go away?” He rubbed his face. 

“Not so long as his Majesty Pure Vanilla Cookie wants me to watch you. Do you ever stop sleeping?” She countered smoothly. 

“I'm fucking tired. Sue me.” He snarled. He didn't sleep well down there. Not with the sheer pain. You'd think that being in unending agony would make it easier to slip into the dark abyss of unconsciousness, but no. It actually made it impossible to sleep. 

Not that Shadow Milk needed sleep. But the mental fatigue of staying awake was a lot. It helped to slide a nap in here and there. And it also made for an excellent way to kill time when shit sucked. And he also probably needed that mental break more when he was stressed. So like… he sort of technically needed sleep. 

But he hadn't been able to in that stupid stupid cell. The pain was too damn much and being cut off from his eyes and their multitudes made it… strangely overwhelming in its lack of stimulus. It was dark and he couldn't see anything and his senses were limited to his own body? Preposterous and a horrible way to drift off to sleep. 

Before, he'd napped to the sounds and sights of anything that caught his interest as a lullaby. Spying on nations, enemies, his fellow Beasts… Oftentimes he peeked in on his minions, who were both extremely amusing and prone to talking to themselves. 

(If he liked to doze off to Black Sapphire humming to himself, no, he didn't, pfft. It wasn't like his fruity minion had a wonderful singing voice or anything. No he just liked actually catching the few times the two cookies acted like siblings, like Black Sapphire tucking Candy Apple in and letting her pester him into singing her lullabies. Eugh. Sappy. But hysterical, knowing the sweet little lollipop was fully capable of crumbling any grown cookie who tempted her and yet begged and begged for bedtime stories and songs. That was all!) 

Trying to ignore his splintering train of thought was a lot harder than usual, sitting outside of his cell and feeling marginally better. He wished he felt much better. Good enough to think of too many things at once to have distractions. But no, without his eyes and without his powers and pitifully weak as he was he had to stick to just one or two things to think about at once, like a normal cookie. 

…fuck, Shadow Milk missed his minions. Those two little shits were… they meant… okay they meant something to him. He liked them. Were they okay..? He wondered what they'd thought about him up and disappearing. He did it frequently enough, after all. But not usually so long without directions for Candy Apple. She got… frenetic without something to direct her energy towards. 

“Shadow Milk Cookie?” Black Raisin’s voice disturbed him. 

“What do you want?” He rasped, sassing more on reflex than anything else. 

“I asked you a question.” He could hear a shifting of cloth that sounded like a shrug. 

“Uh huh.” And he hadn't been paying attention. Obviously. 

“I asked if you actually need sleep or if this is just your way of escaping everything.” 

Shadow Milk stared at her for a long minute trying to tell if she was actually that confident he couldn’t eviscerate her or if she was stupid enough to think he wouldn't just because her boss was his current medically required snuggle buddy. “I can't tell if you're arrogant or just plain stupid.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him.  “Well? Which is it? Because I'm telling you now, Pure Vanilla Cookie is going to notice if you sleep all day, everyday.” 

He gritted his teeth. “And it's your fucking problem why, exactly?” 

“Because when he gets something into his head he can't let go, trying to get him to change his mind on a matter is impossible. Especially when it's for someone else's sake.” Black Raisin blurred as she shifted, eyes drifting out the window idly like they were having any boring old normal chat. “And for whatever reason, Pure Vanilla's decided to help you. Do I think you deserve it? No. But you can judge him into not doing just about anything except for not helping cookies. So I'm here watching you instead of a fully armed set of guards like the rest of the cookies who know you're here want. And I already know Pure Vanilla Cookie is going to ask me everything I've observed while he was gone, in case I might have noticed anything that might be important. And once I tell him you just slept more, he's probably going to get worried.” 

Shadow Milk didn't know how to feel about all… that. So he used a classic misdirect. “Where is Vanilly anyway? Surprised he's not being extra clingy again-” 

Black Raisin Cookie sighed, fed up with him and he hadn’t even been awake ten minutes. “He's conferring with the Detective in charge of the investigation on Blue Mushroom Cookie. There were questions they needed to ask the other victims once they were stable.” 

Shadow Milk felt something curdle within him. Hopefully not his namesake. He'd hate to be Shadow Cheese Cookie. “So I guess little old me’s up on the chopping block next?” He said faux cheerfully. 

Black Raisin shrugged. “I don't know. It's been several hours. Might take longer.” 

Absolutely perfect. Gave him some time to straighten out in his head what he absolutely didn't want to talk about (everything) and what he did (nothing).

“Hello, Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla sounded tired but cheery as he opened the door, staff tapping a bit out of rhythm. “I'm glad to see you up!” 

“I've been sitting in an armchair for twenty minutes, this hardly constitutes as ‘up’.” Shadow Milk rolled his eyes. He'd hobbled his way to the window as soon as he'd realized the sun was setting and shining perfectly through it to get a good bask going. Under the watchful eye of Black Raisin Cookie, of course. 

“I brought you something.” Pure Vanilla sounded pleased with himself. “I know you don't believe eating necessary, but surely it's not awful? Or you can enjoy a nice drink now and then?” 

His footsteps approached and Shadow Milk saw him hold something out. 

“What is it?” He asked suspiciously before even thinking of taking it. 

“It's a cup of coffee. I wasn't sure if you liked cream or sugar, so I brought some along...” 

Black Raisin made a surprised noise. 

“Ah- Detective Almond Cookie invited me for a drink after our work was concluded.” Pure Vanilla sounded a little flustered. “I do enjoy a good cup of coffee on a long day, you know…” 

Shadow Milk looked long enough to see the cup, snagging it from Pure Vanilla's hands. The warm cup felt great in his hands. That was blessing enough. Pure Vanilla’s presence instantly easing that building ache in his chest was also helpful and he was instantly back to being drowsy again. 

“Ah- Shadow Milk? Do you want any cream or sugar?” 

“No.” He snapped, distracted by the warmth in his hands radiating down his sore wrists. The bandages helped but the heat was heavenly. 

“I wouldn't have pinned you as the sort of cookie to drink their coffee black.” Pure Vanilla mused. 

“Yeah, well, you don't know shit about me.” Just to be a petty bastard Shadow Milk took a big swig. Bleh. He almost gagged but managed to hold a straight face. Thankfully the trip had cooled it or he might have burnt his tongue to bits. 

“Alright then, I'll remember that for next time.” Pure Vanilla sounded pleased and oh no. He'd dug himself a hole. Now the bastard was going to keep getting him coffee and it was going to be plain bean water. “I would like to ask you some questions if it's alright.” 

“Questions this, questions that, always with the questions from you.” Shadow Milk melted into his armchair. Between the heat of the coffee, the sunlight warming his dough, and Pure Vanilla's souljam lightening up the throbbing in his chest with every minute he stood nearby Shadow Milk could fall into a nap right here and now. 

“I just want to help make you as healthy and comfortable as possible right now.” Pure Vanilla Cookie said with an audible smile. Mushy gushy bullshit. “So are some questions okay right now?” 

“Mmrgh. Go ahead. Dunno if I'll answer.” He hoped this wasn't about- 

“Detective Almond Cookie wants to interview you about your experiences with Blue Mushroom Cookie.” Pure Vanilla said cautiously. He continued before Shadow Milk could snap at him. “I already told him you've not wanted to talk about him previously. The Detective is insistent that building a proper detailed profile on him will help track him down to face justice.” 

“He's a slimy bastard with a backwards god complex who gets his delights torturing cookies until they crumble.” Shadow Milk bit out, hands tight around the coffee cup. “What else is there to say?” Shit. Was he shaking? He was shaking. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You stop that. 

“Shadow Milk…” Pure Vanilla set his hand on his shoulder and he hated how quickly he relaxed into it, how soothing the contact was. It was just the stupid souljam, nothing else. Absolutely not. 

“I'm not talking about it. Especially not with some random cookie whose job is literally to be a nosy prick. ACAB.” 

“What is ACAB..?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” He grumbled and shouldered the other cookie's hand away. 

Pure Vanilla cleared his throat. “So, you don't want to interview with the Detective?” 

“I'd rather gouge out my remaining eyecing.” 

He could hear the flinch Pure Vanilla gave and it felt bad. Why did it feel bad? Eugh, was his broken soul jam causing problems again? 

“I'll make sure to tell him so.” Vanilla said diplomatically, like he'd given a polite refusal. “If there's anything you think of that could be relevant, please be sure to let me know? Or I can pass on a letter to the Detective.” 

“Mhm. So hey, how long's this gonna last anyhow?” He felt irritated, angry, scared.  

“Pardon?” 

“This whole bullshit being nice thing.” He twitched, wishing he had eyes to observe every possible movement and tell him what was happening. “When does it end? Cause I know I'm a criminal to you stupid cookies and I know you just want me locked up again!” He hissed. 

“Shadow Milk, that's not true-” 

“Isn't it?! When are you going to be the one shoving me in a cell?!” He wanted to get up, tried, almost fell out of the chair before hands touched him and the irritation eased. No no no- “Don't TOUCH ME-” Shadow Milk yelled, high pitched, frantic. 

“Shhhh, you're okay my Lord, nothing wrong at all, the process is going well so far, rest-” 

“Get off me- GET OFF ME-” 

“Shhhh, you're okay, everything is perfectly fine-” 

Hands on him, petting him, holding him gently, tracing scars across his chest and arms. Let go let go let GO-

“Shh, it's okay, I'm sorry, you're okay, you're not there Shadow Milk-” 

He blinked and he was so heavy and his chest pinched something awful. 

“Ggggh, what hit me?” He said. Or tried to say, as only a slurred groan came out. 

“Shadow Milk Cookie? Can you hear me?” Pure Vanilla's familiar colors hovered above him when he peeled his eyecing open. 

“...mghhrg,” He protested. Then realized he was being completely restrained and started to panic. Shadow Milk thrashed wildly, trying to break free- 

“Shhh, it's okay, I'm sorry, I had to, you were going to hurt yourself-” 

“No no no no- let me go- let me GO-!” Shadow Milk hissed in betrayal, head pounding. 

“You're okay, just breathe-” 

“I am BREATHING just fine, let go of me!” 

“Are you back with me?” Pure Vanilla asked, weirdly. 

“I didn't fucking go anywhere- I-” His head hurt. His chest, weirdly, didn't hurt a ton. But everything else did. “...did I go somewhere?” He felt… so funny. 

Pure Vanilla breathed a deep sigh of relief. Then he laughed, strange and light. “You were… hysterical. And kept trying to scratch your chest. I'm sorry, I wouldn't have bound you otherwise.” 

…yeah okay. That was fair. He'd scratched his own chest open a time or two and it was… pretty damn awful. 

“Kay,” He managed to slur out. “So fuckin. Unbind me now.” 

The magic receded near instantly, heavy blankets no longer suffocating him. He felt so funny. Except… his hand flew to his chest. He could feel the jump Vanilla made. 

“Why's- why- where's my shirt?!” He tried to sound offended and scandalized but, alas, he was in terrible form. He just sounded pathetic. 

“Well. Side note.” Pure Vanilla sounded happy. “I figured out a way to help your soul jam. Tell me, does it hurt?” 

“Does it hurt?” Shadow Milk squinted up at the blurry shape that was Pure Vanilla Cookie. “Does it hurt- of course it fucking h- …wait a minute.” 

His chest hurt. His body hurt. His head hurt. But the source of that throbbing, screaming pain was the soul jam. And it was… less. Not like he was just temporarily pain free. But like the red hot irritating spikes coming from his soul jam had shrunk in size. 

“...it hurts less. Everything else feels like I got hit by a truck, but my soul jam hurts less.” He tried to force his vision to focus, tried to make a grab for Pure Vanilla to pull him close. He missed and his hand was shoved down by a black hand that probably was the stupid crow. “What did you do.” He demanded. 

“...I used a little magic, and I know you don't want to be touched, I'm very sorry,” Fuck him, Vanilla sounded genuinely apologetic. “But it worked! Your soul jam used a bit of my magic to… I'm not sure… it did something. Like… settling in. I think if we repeat this - under more controlled conditions, while you're conscious and consenting of course - your soul jam could eventually be… healed?” He fumbled a bit. “Or perhaps the wound around it would be healed, or maybe you'd gain access to your magic again- or maybe even just remove the pain. …What do you think?” 

There was a hand in his suddenly, squeezing. Vanilla sure forgot the no touching thing a lot. He was lucky it still soothed his aches to be touching. 

Shadow Milk felt shitty as fuck right now and not at all understanding just what was going on. But if there was going to be anyone messing with his soul jam, he guessed it would have to be his other half. 

“Only you. Nobody else. No other cookie… gets near it.” He mumbled, eyes closing. He was too tired for this shit. 

“Of course. Not a one.” Pure Vanilla sounded excited. Not gleeful about a project going well, about an experiment progressing, but happy that there was a positive outcome on the horizon. Happy for him. 

Stupid, stupid Nilly.

Chapter Text

“I'd rather gouge out my remaining eyecing.” 

Pure Vanilla winced, both at the sheer venom in Shadow Milk’s voice, the words themselves, and the tinge of desperation hidden behind his anger. Ordinarily Shadow Milk was much better at hiding his thoughts… ordinarily, ordinarily. Nothing about this was ordinary.  

Though perhaps that point was where he'd begun acting differently. 

“I'll make sure to tell him so.” He said calmly, hoping Shadow Milk didn’t feel too pressured. “If there's anything you think of that could be relevant, please be sure to let me know? Or I can pass on a letter to the Detective.” 

Perhaps that would be better. Maybe he could have Shadow Milk try writing things out as an exercise… could Shadow Milk write well enough, with his vision like it was? Did moving his eyes across the paper count the same as watching something move? He wanted to ask, but he also didn't. Shadow Milk did not seem to react well to questions even before Blue Mushroom Cookie. 

“Mhm.” Shadow Milk grunted, shifting to hold the coffee cup in one hand and scratch at his chest with the other. Pure Vanilla watched with mild alarm but… the sweater was in the way, and surely he wouldn't scratch if it actually hurt..? “So hey, how long's this gonna last anyhow?” He sounded… bitter, a bit vacant. Not at all like he had a minute ago. 

“Pardon?” Pure Vanilla had no idea what he was talking about. 

“This whole bullshit being nice thing.” Shadow Milk Cookie twitched with his whole body, coffee cup shaking in his hand. “When does it end? Cause I know I'm a criminal to you stupid cookies and I know you just want me locked up again!” With every word he grew louder and a bit more… not right. 

“Shadow Milk, that's not true-” Pure Vanilla held his hands out in alarm, not sure what was happening, but staying calm. He'd had patients who weren't quite themselves plenty of times for uncountable reasons. 

“Isn't it?! When are you going to be the one shoving me in a cell?!” The Beast tried to get up, dropping the coffee and spilling hot liquid everywhere. He tripped over his own folded legs and nearly fell face first towards the floor if Pure Vanilla hadn't already been going to catch him. Black Raisin followed his cue, hands going under Shadow Milk’s arms to help hold him up. Their touch… only made a wide-eyed look of panic fill his face and then Shadow Milk shrieked. “Don't TOUCH ME-” 

He began to fight back, surprisingly strong and wiry despite how wobbly he was when trying to move on his own. 

“Pure Vanilla-” Black Raisin said with alarm. 

“DON'T TOUCH ME DON'T TOUCH ME DON’T-” 

“Just get him to his bed, we can give him some space-” 

Shadow Milk fought every movement, screaming the whole way. He worried genuinely that he was going to pull something. Pure Vanilla Cookie tried to speak calmly and soothingly to him but he didn't respond, wasn't reactive to anything but touch. And touch caused quite a negative reaction. 

“Black Raisin, can you get something strong smelling- like incense, or-” Scent was a way to help snap a cookie out of a flashback when they couldn't see or feel any different. But before it could continue Shadow Milk went limp in their arms and began to wail. 

“Please don't, please please please, get it out get it OUT- don't touch me- don't! FUCK YOU! It’s-” His words came in and out, distracted and distant one word and pointed and vicious the next. 

Then he switched from trying to escape their hold to scrabbling at his chest, seemingly confused by the sweater. He kept trying to scratch. And that was not a good idea. 

“Shadow Milk, no-!” Pure Vanilla tried to hold his wrists away but the feeling of his frail wrists made him wince. Trying to restrain him would be difficult without hurting him. “Black Raisin, stand back.” She obeyed. 

Pure Vanilla cast a binding spell, a gentle one that would not harm the captive. Shadow Milk Cookie would never be held by a spell so weak, but he clearly wasn't himself right now. Trapped somewhere else. 

The spell worked like a blanket, wrapping him head to toe. Shadow Milk cried out in a mixture of pain and fury when his writhing had no effect. Pure Vanilla could only help lift him onto the bed so he wasn't on the floor, sitting next to him worriedly. 

“This is one of the odder flashbacks I've ever seen.” Black Raisin said with a frown. 

“Mm. Hallucinations? Or memories?” Pure Vanilla Cookie wanted to stroke his hair, to help calm him, but touch wasn't helping right now… 

“...sir.” Black Raisin leaned in. “His chest.” She had better eyesight than the average cookie, and better than his without his staff by far. 

Vanilla leaned his staff over Shadow Milk, unsure what she meant, when his shadow actually revealed the faint glow coming from underneath the sweater. 

With Raisin’s help they got his sweater pulled up enough to see the wound. The blue point of Shadow Milk’s soul jam propped out of his chest, flickering ever so faintly with light. That light traveled across the scarred dough in little dots of blue light. 

Shadow Milk had gone silent as soon as his chest was bare beyond a few shuddering whimpers. His eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. 

“Shadow Milk Cookie, are you with me?” Pure Vanilla risked putting his hand against the beast’s cheek, patting him gently. 

Shadow Milk moved his head to the side with a heavy flinch. 

“Don’t… don't touch me… bastard…” He mumbled. 

“Okay, Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla said easily. “Can you tell me- are you hurt, right now? Is it hurting?” 

Shadow Milk stared blankly, before shivering and speaking in a defeated voice. “Itches. Itches… so damn bad… please take… take it out…” 

Itching? There wasn't much Pure Vanilla could do for itching, besides… perhaps numbing the area? “Shadow Milk, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm going to try to help, okay?” 

Predictably he didn't receive a response. Pure Vanilla gathered a tiny spell in hand and reached towards the wound regardless. He brushed the edges of it and Shadow Milk cried out pitifully. Then shuddered and tossed his head, the only thing the binding spell allowed him to move. 

“Shhh, you're okay. I'm not going to hurt you.” Vanilla murmured before casting a minor numbing spell. 

The spell, itself, didn't work. He realized this as soon as his magic fizzled out in a dull snap. However the spell still ended up helping. 

Pure Vanilla watched in surprise as the yellow light of his magic traveled directly to the soul jam like an electric current. He tried to pull it back, but it was snapped up in a… well… snap. 

The tip of the soul jam they could see flared with yellow light for one extremely brief second. Shadow Milk moaned, eyes lidded. He stopped his attempts to move out of the binding. 

“...did his soul jam just absorb your magic?” 

“....something like that, perhaps.” Pure Vanilla looked him over. He certainly seemed more relaxed. Or at least had stopped fighting back. “...this may be a poor idea, but…” 

He reached out his hand wreathed in the barest trickle of magic to touch the soul jam- 

He could see it. Feel it. Trapped within dough. Struggling to beat, to exist, to connect with itself and with its domain. The soul jam felt him back and cried out, begging for freedom. 

I can't do that. If I cut you free, your wielder dies. 

Crying for release. Magic built up and trying to answer its wielder's call, but trapped. Forced tight against a beating heart and gasping lungs. There was no way Shadow Milk could breathe properly like that- 

I can’t free you! I'm sorry! Let me help, show me how I can help. 

Mindless cries. 

And Pure Vanilla Cookie, looking to the organs branching out around the soul jam, had an idea. 

You're inside of him, but you're not a PART of him. Become a part of him- become another organ, another beating heart. 

He didn't have time to question whether this was quite a good idea or not. The soul jam followed his suggestion and began to shift and tendrils of magic - the barest, tiniest threads drifted from it through his chest. Like veins. 

That was all the magic he'd offered, the only magic available, the rest was trapped and sealed away. 

Vanilla took a deep breath, no longer in that odd subspace inside of Shadow Milk. 

“Your Majesty?” 

“I think… I think I know how to help him.” Pure Vanilla smiled slowly. 

Shadow Milk stirred, making distressed noises. 

“Shh, you're okay-”

Black Raisin left the room to get them dinner, Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla both curled up on the bed. Shadow Milk seemed to be dozing in and out. 

He’d been confused and dazed since coming back to himself, a typical reaction to the episode at least. Pure Vanilla very cautiously broached the subject of possible future episodes like this. Shadow Milk’s disturbed state was probably the only reason he didn't get kicked or elbowed for it. 

Shadow Milk didn’t remember anything real happening. They would have to figure out a better way to deal with future episodes as they happened. He only insisted they never ever restrain him unless he started scratching at himself again. 

Other than that, Shadow Milk promptly curled up against him again and fell asleep. Pure Vanilla was too tired to argue. And perhaps felt a little guilty, too, for… a great many things. 

When exactly he'd grown so fond of Shadow Milk Cookie he couldn’t say. Only that sometime in between leaving the Spire and finding him in that cell… Pure Vanilla Cookie had missed him. 

He still missed him. This wasn't the Shadow Milk he'd known. The beast he'd hated and feared. But somehow he still missed that cruel cookie. 

He sighed, staring into the dimming light of the room. He should turn on the lights before Black Raisin got back with food. 

“...Nilly?” 

“Hm?” Vanilla pet his shoulder absently. 

“Why aren't you throwing me in a cell?” Shadow Milk sounded exhausted, but not slurred or distant like before. So this was probably a genuine and coherent question. 

This was certainly a question he'd been thinking on, since the rather unintentionally deep discussion with Almond Cookie over far too many coffees for either of them so late in the day. He was going to struggle to sleep both because of the complicated feelings he held and the caffeine. 

“...you're my other half. I simply don't want to. Can't want to.” Pure Vanilla sighed eventually. “I should. As a leader who needs to protect my cookies and as someone you hurt greatly, I should. But I look at you and… maybe if you were hale and healthy and still harming my cookies, I might be able to resent you for it. But I see you now and…” 

“Don't pity me.” He was too slow to snap, but Vanilla was sure if Shadow Milk was any less tired his ears would be ringing. 

“So what if I do? What is pity but compassion? Sorrow that drives one to better the situation of another?” He gave into instinct and resumed petting Shadow Milk’s arm, realizing that he was still sans sweater and they were dough to dough. Shadow Milk was cool to the touch. Hm. Maybe dough to dough contact would be better for his wound? They'd have to see… but in the meantime. “Pity isn't always a bad thing. Those who use it as an excuse to look down on others, sure, those cookies are certainly doing nothing kind or productive.” 

Shadow Milk snorted softly and he considered it a personal victory that he'd gotten the other cookie to give a genuine, if small, laugh. 

“But pity can also be something used to uplift and support those less fortunate or in need of help. It is how cookies have lived for ages, supporting and helping each other.” 

“Mmm. Been a while since I heard a philosopher go off the shits.” Shadow Milk muttered. “Usually they're not so idealistic though.” 

“Well, I consider myself a rather idealistic cookie.” Pure Vanilla said. 

“No kidding.” 

“My point, before I got off track, is that… perhaps I do pity you, but it stems from compassion. Why I feel that towards you…” He gently pinched Shadow Milk’s shoulder teasingly. The other cookie jumped and shot him a scowl. “...I certainly cannot say. Perhaps it has to do with why our fellows have also been so drawn together. Even Apathy went through the effort to find her other half. Maybe our soul jams tie us together more than we realize.” 

“Mmm. Makes sense.” He mumbled. Then in an entirely different tone of voice: “You know those were like made from collected souls?” Shadow Milk said with his eyes closed and half asleep, like he hadn't just dropped the biggest bomb Pure Vanilla Cookie had ever heard. 

“...pardon?” 

“The soul jams were made with pure life powder.” Shadow Milk lectured sleepily. “The purest of pure life powder. And that was originally made with souls.” 

“...what?” Pure Vanilla looked down at him helplessly. 

“I don't repeat my lessons, Silly Vanilly.” Shadow Milk opened one eye to lazily glare up at him. “Keep up. So soul jams are made from souls. Adapted into ours. Or should I say the other way around? Our souls were made to fit.” His hand went towards his chest. Before Vanilla could grab him he scoffed. “I'm not gonna scratch it. Yeesh.” 

Pure Vanilla swallowed dryly. “So the soul jams… truly are a part of the Ancient Heroes’ souls?” 

“The Beasts first, but yeah. Why d'you think they talk to you in your own voice? Dumbass. They've got a fragment of you in them.” 

“I thought they were semi-sentient.” Pure Vanilla admitted. “Or that it was just you messing with me as the Light of Truth.” 

“Psh, Truth, Deceit, both are Knowledge. You have to know things to lie about them. I am Truth too, you know.” Shadow Milk rambled. “Deceit's just a better gig. No cookies crowding you demanding you tell them this, teach them that, what's the meaning of life? What came first, the spring chicken or the confetti egg? What's this obscure star named? Okay that last one is fun stuff to share, but still! Do you know how impossible it is to get anything done when you're being hounded day in and day out for your Virtue?” 

Pure Vanilla relaxed a bit, looking down at him. He’d been worried for a moment that he was getting incoherent again, bouncing between topics so suddenly. His eyes were closed, his hand occasionally lifting to gesture about. He didn't seem distressed or confused. Just sleepy and annoyed. 

Was Shadow Milk… comfortable? 

“I can’t imagine it's very easy, no. Being a King is difficult enough.” And he'd refused many of his original mantles upon returning, not wanting his Kingdom to rely too heavily on him. 

“Exactly!” Shadow Milk almost hit him with his lazily thrown hand. “Only thing I'm grateful for is unlike the rest of those weirdos I never had a whole ass kingdom or a huge religion to take care of, I just had my little school-” 

Pure Vanilla listened to him ramble on with a smile, warmth filling his chest. Perhaps it was his own soul jam, reciprocating the gentle bond that had begun.