Pᴜʀᴇᴄᴀᴄᴀᴏ AU ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ Dᴀʀᴋ Cᴀᴄᴀᴏ ɪs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ғᴀʟʟᴇɴ ᴋɪɴɢᴅᴏᴍ
<
Pure Vanilla awoke to a ceiling of blinding white, a profound sense of cold gripping his bones despite the heavy furs beneath him. He stared at the glass around him, seeing the gentle drift of snowflakes.
“Snow?” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. “Where… where am I?”
A small, white-furred Milk Cookie gasped, eyes wide as saucers. “HE’S AWAKE! HE’S AWAKE!” The child darted away, vanishing into a crowd of bundled figures.
An elderly cookie with eyes as clear as ice approached as Pure Vanilla carefully stepped from the warmth of the crystal Snow Globe chamber. “Ah, you are awake. Welcome to Milk Village.”
Milk Village. A forgotten legend, a cluster of resilient life high in the frozen peaks. Pure Vanilla swallowed, nodding, his gaze settling on the familiar, broad-shouldered silhouette of Dark Cacao, who was in deep conversation with an elder.
“Dark Cacao brought you here,” a kind lady-cookie whispered, a gentle smile cracking the frost of her expression.
“Dark Cacao…” Pure Vanilla looked at his hands. The venom was gone; the ache was replaced by a strange, tingling vitality.
The lady began to recount the frantic arrival:
“Yes. He raced here.”
Flashback
The sound of pounding on the ancient, iced-over gate was desperate. “ANYONE! HELP! HELP!” Dark Cacao was frantic, his usual stoicism shattered.
Almond Milk Cookie, the chief elder, approached with cold suspicion. “Dark Cacao Cookie?”
“Help! He was bitten by the worm in the Elder Forest! It’s toxic jam—it’s spreading through his dough!”
Almond Milk’s gaze fell on Pure Vanilla's collapsed form and the unmistakable Vanilla Royal Crest on his robes. “Dark Cacao. He is a Vanilian. We—we cannot accept this stain!”
“Please! Almond Milk Cookie, he is dying!” Dark Cacao’s voice cracked with a rare vulnerability.
Almond Milk sighed, a plume of frost in the air. “Fine. Fetch the warmest milk! Keep the Vanilian near the hearth!” The great snow-gate slowly opened, and Pure Vanilla was carried into the grudging sanctuary.
End Flashback.
Pure Vanilla felt a deep, twisting shame settle in his gut as the story ended. He watched Dark Cacao finish his conversation with the elder, noting the genuine respect and concern in the Milk Cookies’ eyes. Dark Cacao was a trusted peer here.
Almond Milk Cookie returned, a scoff twisting her mouth. “The Vanilian has woken.”
Dark Cacao approached. “How is your feeling?”
“Good,” Pure Vanilla mumbled, pulling his hood up to shield his face.
Dark Cacao nodded, offering the long, white staff. “Here. I trust it is not broken.” Pure Vanilla murmured his thanks.
“Hey! Show some respect! Prince Dark Cacao Cookie saved your life!” a small Milk Cookie yelled.
“That is not polite!” Almond Milk growled, scattering the younger Cookies back to their duties. She turned to Pure Vanilla, her expression frigid. “Are you well? Are you freezing?”
Pure Vanilla bowed his head low, the gesture soft and formal. He offered his deepest gratitude.
“Good then,” Almond Milk nodded curtly. “You may stay as long as you wish, Vanilian.” She turned away, muttering darkly.
Dark Cacao only glanced at the departing elder. “Just tell me when you want to head back. Milk Village is sacred, and their patience is thin.”
Pure Vanilla joined the edge of the large campfire circle where Dark Cacao was now talking and sharing a rare, short laugh. He felt every stare like a prickling cold. Dark Cacao was a figure of known courage and dignity in this distant land. Pure Vanilla was a plague, a burden. This, then, was the bitter truth of being an outsider, the same silent contempt Dark Cacao endured in the Vanilla Kingdom.
“Ready to go?” Dark Cacao asked, his voice low. Pure Vanilla nodded, rising stiffly.
As they approached the gate for departure, Pure Vanilla pulled a small, tightly wrapped bundle from his cloak: Rare Vanilla Shoots, a luxurious and costly spice from the heart of his kingdom.
“I apologize for the disturbance,” Pure Vanilla said, offering the gift to Almond Milk Cookie. “Please accept my gratitude.”
Almond Milk did not even touch the bundle, her hand pushing it back firmly. "Keep it. We do not wish to owe the Vanilians anything.” The gate groaned shut.
Pure Vanilla’s hands trembled, clutching the rejected offering. Why such heartless, total refusal?
Dark Cacao, understanding the Prince’s shock, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
After a long march, the massive, familiar walls of the Vanilla Kingdom came into view. The guards, recognizing Dark Cacao first, immediately launched into a tirade.
“Dark Cacao Cookie! You know the rules! No hunting in the Dark Woods! Keep to the normal forest for once!”
Dark Cacao remained silent, accepting the indignity. Pure Vanilla watched, the truth of his kingdom’s isolation sharp and clear. The Vanilla Kingdom was despised, a lone, hated bubble, without alliance or proper trade. He knew the shame of the outcast.
A sudden, sharp thought hit him: did he feel remorse for Dark Cacao’s humiliation, or a perverse satisfaction at finally being recognized as the Prince he was? If he chose the easy route, he would never escape the shadow of his father’s gilded cage.
“Dark Cacao Cookie saved my life. I was lost in the Dark Woods,” Pure Vanilla stated, his voice ringing with clear, princely authority.
The guards snapped to attention. “Y-YOUR HIGHNESS! Prince Pure Vanilla Cookie! Our apologies! Come, come!” The gate swung open with a deference Dark Cacao had never received.
Dark Cacao moved to dismiss himself, but Pure Vanilla rushed forward. “Wait, Dark Cacao.” He hesitated, struggling to articulate the tangled emotions of the last few hours. “Thank you. And I am sorry to burden you.”
Dark Cacao gave a soft, noncommittal huff and turned, walking toward the lonely north sector of the kingdom.
Back in the Vanilla Palace, Pure Vanilla deflected his father’s anxious questions and retreated to his chamber. He stared up at the historical frescoes on his ceiling—the glorious, flawless defeat of the Dark Enchantress. But the victory felt hollow. He was trapped in a safe zone, and he needed the stark, bitter reality of the world beyond.
He grabbed parchment and a quill, driven by a sudden, intense need to forge an alliance with Dark Cacao. But what diplomacy could reach him?
Bitter things? Swords? He needed facts.
He rushed to the royal library, seeking any record of the Cacaorians. He soon regretted the search. Every volume painted them as treacherous, dark, and utterly evil. Pure Vanilla raked a frustrated hand through his hair.
He set up a large board in his chamber—his Investigation Board—scribbling down every question Dark Cacao raised.
Why did my father allow him here? What is his motive at the Academy?
Why do outsiders call him 'Prince' and show him respect? Who is he?
The questions multiplied, answers were scarce. He needed a hypothesis. He needed the true history of Earthbread. And he needed to know how to approach Dark Cacao Cookie—the dark key to the kingdom's lies.
Meanwhile, in his small, spartan dorm room in the northern wing, Dark Cacao Cookie sat by a small fire. He was enjoying the savory, comforting taste of Meat Jelly and a thick, steaming mug of hot, unsweetened Cacao.
Purecacao AU where Dark Cacao is from a fallen kingdom
< >
Dark Cacao leaned close to the thick, brittle pages of an ancient tome—a chronicle of the Vanilla Kingdom's rise. It was his obsession, his lonely vigil of study. A bitter, cold sound, half-chuckle, half-pitying sigh, escaped his throat as his eyes traced the ink. He knew the truth hidden in the margins, the silent, terrifying moment the Dark War had truly begun.
The pages spoke of how the Dark Cacao Kingdom had marched to aid the Vanilians against the encroaching madness of the Dark Enchantress. They lauded the 'benevolent King Vanilla' for his ultimate triumph. But Dark Cacao knew the steel-hard truth: his own father, the great King, had enacted the final, desperate sealing, trading his freedom and his crown for the kingdom’s salvation, imprisoning himself alongside the villain.
And yet, the Vanilians, the silver-tongued liars, dared to twist the sacrifice, claiming their King had been the sole savior. It was not merely a lie; it was an act of profound, nauseating disrespect. Disgusting.
Ages had passed—for Cookies lived long, enduring lives—and Dark Cacao sighed, dipping his quill into the inkpot. He continued his scathing essay, a meticulously argued refutation of the accepted history. He knew it was a fruitless effort, a whisper against a kingdom’s roar. His truth would never be chosen; the Vanilians were willfully, utterly tone-deaf to the discordant notes of true history.
A hollow ache gnawed at him. Where were his people? His heart bled a dark, slow sorrow for the dispersed souls of his kingdom. They hid now, scattered and disguised, perhaps even seeking refuge in the distant, neutral Coffee Kingdom. He bit back the sting of tears. He was meant to be their Prince, the shield and guide of his people, yet he was adrift, utterly ignorant of their plight.
He endured his place in this gilded cage. The Vanilians were kind, yes—Prince Pure Vanilla most of all, with a soft voice and a gentleness that was nauseatingly pure. Dark Cacao saw the kindness for what it was: a calculated performance to justify the King’s shining, utterly false reputation.
The next morning, the hallowed halls of the Blueberry Yogurt Academy were cold and echoing. Dark Cacao moved like a shadow, always first to arrive, last to leave. He craved the emptiness, the silence, a shield against the endless charade of polite Vanilians. They wore masks of sweet courtesy, but his own heart was bound by a bitter, inescapable law: Hate the Lie. His father had beaten that creed into him; Dark Cacao was incapable of deceit.
The class was a blur of tedious lectures and sweet, predictable scents. He sat as he always did: an isolated island, an outcast in the sunlit classroom.
Then, a light, insistent tap on his desk.
He looked up, meeting the impossibly blue and yellow, innocent eyes of Pure Vanilla Cookie. The Prince stood before him, the very embodiment of the sweetness Dark Cacao despised. Dark Cacao held his disgust tight, focusing on the forced, almost painfully bright smile Pure Vanilla wore. It was the smile of a practiced liar.
"I wished to return this," Pure Vanilla said, his voice a soothing, soft murmur. He held out a small, ornate cedar box.
A wave of murmurs rippled through the classroom:
"Oh, Prince Vanilla is truly so kind."
"He tolerates even those who bear the scent of the Fallen Kingdom."
"What charity! What grace!"
Dark Cacao merely nodded, letting the noise wash over him—a desperate plea for attention by the Crown Prince? He took the box and lifted the lid. His eyes narrowed.
"This is not mine," Dark Cacao stated, his voice a low, hard rumble that cut through the saccharine whispers.
Pure Vanilla’s smile wavered, a slight shift in the porcelain mask. "Ah, well, yours was… torn. Deeply torn, I'm afraid."
Lies. Dark Cacao tasted the falsehood in the Prince's tone, in the slight widening of his golden aura.
"My handkerchief," Dark Cacao said, closing the box with a soft, final click, "is hand-stitched with Cacao String and embroidered with Silver Icing. It is a warrior's cloth, tough enough to survive the licking of a dragon's flame."
Pure Vanilla’s eyes widened, a flicker of genuine shock piercing the facade. "It was torn, Dark Cacao Cookie," he insisted, though his voice lacked conviction.
Dark Cacao rose slowly, his large frame unfolding, towering over the smaller Prince. "Was it torn, Prince Vanilla, by a blade blessed by the Dark Cacao Kingdom's Swordjam?"
A silence descended—heavy, suffocating. The Swordjam Block, a rare mineral, was the only substance known to weaken the nigh-indestructible Cacao String.
"Our Cacao thread is strong," Dark Cacao continued, his voice dangerously low, "but it is vulnerable to that specific, cursed mineral. That is why our warriors wore their cloth on their breast, over their hearts, never upon the hip where a low blow might tear it. I ask you again, with the honesty your station demands: Where is my handkerchief?"
Pure Vanilla gritted his teeth, the effort of maintaining his composure visible only to Dark Cacao. He reached into his robes and produced it: perfectly clean, freshly pressed, and utterly intact. Dark Cacao sat back down, the silent battle won. "Thank you."
Pure Vanilla huffed, the smooth air of nobility momentarily broken by a surge of childish frustration.
"One more thing," Dark Cacao said, his eyes drilling into the Prince. "Why is this in your hand? Was White Lily Cookie too busy to deliver it herself?"
"She asked me to deliver it," Pure Vanilla responded instantly.
A lie.
"You are the Crown Prince," Dark Cacao whispered, a venomous truth-seeker. "How many falsehoods are you willing to utter in one morning? Does your 'pure' King truly instruct you in such deceit?"
"SILENCE!"
Pure Vanilla’s cry was not a shout of anger, but a concentrated blast of magical force. His Souljam—the crystallized essence of his power—glittered violently, unleashing a palpable wave of golden aura that slammed into the walls and made the students scramble backward in terror.
Dark Cacao remained seated, utterly unmoved by the raw display of power. "Is that your answer, Prince? An outburst to silence the truth?"
Pure Vanilla’s aura calmed, receding quickly, leaving him shaken. He looked down at Dark Cacao. "What do you know of my father? You know nothing."
Dark Cacao stood again, leaning in close, a predatory whisper in the Prince's ear. "It is a good thing then, that I research before making threats." He paused, his smirk a chilling, dark line. "Who do you believe released the Dark Enchantress in the first place, Prince Vanilla?"
He straightened, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Consider that your clue, Your Highness."
Dark Cacao turned and walked away, leaving the Prince standing alone in the terrified silence. Pure Vanilla watched him go, his composure shattering. Lies! The information, the accusation, the hidden narrative—it was too much! He clamped his hands over his head, a wave of painful, raw sensitivity washing over him. He hated this feeling, the sudden, terrible rush of doubt and deceit.
No. Be a good Prince. Be a good Cookie. He closed his eyes, forcing his golden aura to settle, his smile to return—a fragile, brave mask. He gripped his staff, and followed his father’s lessons, walking with a steady, practiced grace.
He needed to know.
In the main hall, beneath the grand, stained-glass image of the King, Pure Vanilla paused, his whisper lost in the high arches. "Father… what have you done?"
Days bled into weeks. Dark Cacao felt the presence, a faint, inexpert shadow dogging his steps. He ignored it, knowing the amateur was likely the distraught Prince.
Pure Vanilla, indeed, was the stalker. He needed to understand the enigma that was Dark Cacao. Mostly, the Prince witnessed a schedule of painful monotony. But one twilight, Dark Cacao turned away from the academy grounds and strode into the ancient, silent woods.
Pure Vanilla followed, his movements now practiced and soft. He watched, stunned, as Dark Cacao expertly tied back his long hair, revealing a focused, primal intensity. Dark Cacao did not simply forage; he hunted, swift and professional, bringing down small, forest creatures and gathering only the bitterest of Cacao Nibs. His back was burdened with a pack that should have been impossibly heavy, yet his movements were effortless.
So focused was Pure Vanilla on this revelation of the warrior Prince, he failed to notice the tremors in the earth.
The ground grateled, a terrifying sound of displaced stone and dirt. Pure Vanilla’s eyes widened just as a massive, fanged maw—a Giant Worm Beast—erupted from the soil behind him, a dark coil of poison and hunger. Its ragged, razor-sharp tooth scraped his side.
"Ack!" Pure Vanilla cried out, stumbling back, his mind a sudden, terrifying blank. He scrambled to his feet, trying to summon a shield spell.
"NO! Don't come closer!" he screamed in pure, helpless panic.
Slash!
In one devastatingly swift, clean motion, a dark figure blurred past him. The Worm Beast, its massive head severed clean from its body, collapsed into the churned earth.
Dark Cacao stood over the massive corpse, his sword gleaming, its edge dark with ancient power. He turned to the trembling Prince. "Are you injured?"
Pure Vanilla could only nod, his breath shallow. "It bit me… it cut my dough."
Dark Cacao’s eyes flashed with alarm. "It bit you? The Worm Beast is toxic!"
A wave of dizzying weakness washed over Pure Vanilla. "My staff… I can heal myself with my staff…" he mumbled, his voice fading.
Dark Cacao searched the ground frantically. "Where is it? I don't see your staff!" He grabbed the rapidly weakening Prince, supporting his weight.
"I…" Pure Vanilla whispered, his legs giving out.
For the love of the Ancients, Dark Cacao cursed silently. The poison was fast, terrifyingly so. "We will search for your staff later!"
Dark Cacao hoisted the Prince onto his back, tossing aside his own heavy pack, and broke into a desperate, flat-out run toward the only thing he knew could slow the venom: the deep, crystalline cold of the northern woods.
All Pure Vanilla saw was a blur of dark forest canopy, a flash of white snow and ice, and the silent, determined profile of the one Cookie he had sworn to distrust.
Purecacao AU where Dark Cacao is from a fallen kingdom
< >
The more he thought about it, the more Pure Vanilla felt himself spiraling. It festered deep in his chest—a mix of frustration and insult.
He hated being underestimated.
Despised being degraded.
He had scoured every library within the Vanilla Kingdom—vaults of knowledge, forbidden scrolls, even dusty records hidden in attic archives.
And yet… the stories were always the same.
The Cacaorians—barbarians. Brutes. Traitors.
No depth. No explanation. Just recycled hatred.
Why is it all the same? Why are we taught to hate them? What are they hiding?
Why… why… why?!
He didn’t realize the ink was spilling. Not until it had soaked through parchment, staining the carved desk and dripping to the floor.
“Crap—!” he hissed under his breath.
If White Chocolate ever found out, he’d turn him into toast.
Panicking, he grabbed a cloth and began wiping hastily. The ink smeared, messier now, but something—something—glinted beneath the shadows of the table.
A case.
He blinked. “Huh?”
It looked old. Worn silver embroidery on black fabric. Elegant, but aged. He reached out, curious, and tried to open it.
Locked.
No matter how he twisted or tugged, it refused to budge.
Frowning, he examined it closer—but aside from that strange embroidery, it was just… a case.
He tried a spell.
Nothing. Not even a flicker.
Weird. Guess I’ll hold onto it for now… he thought.
At Blueberry Yogurt Academy, their teacher lectured about spell structure and magic circles. A simple practice—but essential. Magic circles could easily collapse when disturbed or improperly layered with fixed mystic flow.
Pure Vanilla smiled to himself as he cast his own. Perfect execution. As always.
He couldn't wait to tell White Lily Cookie about the odd silver case he found.
That was—until he arrived.
The canteen. Lunch. A meal ruined.
Pure Vanilla gritted his teeth so hard he thought they might crack.
Dark Cacao Cookie sat down with the grace of someone who didn’t know how irritating his silence was.
Then—
“So, Dark Cacao Cookie, are you free this weekend?” White Lily chirped cheerfully.
Pure Vanilla froze mid-bite.
Wait. What?
“I’m not certain, Lady White Lily,” Dark Cacao replied calmly.
“Well, Pure Vanilla and I plan to visit the capital archives to find spellbooks for the Talent Festival,” she said, smiling. “It’d be nice to have someone join us.”
Pure Vanilla wanted to evaporate.
“White Lily! He might be busy!” he interjected quickly, shooting a glance toward Cacao, who clearly understood what he meant.
“His Highness is correct,” Dark Cacao answered coolly. “I’m training for the Knights’ Recruitment this weekend.”
“See? Busy. With swords. And violence. Lots of swords,” Pure Vanilla nodded rapidly.
White Lily hummed, unconvinced. “That’s true…”
“My apologies for declining, Lady White Lily,” Dark Cacao added, his voice smooth. “Perhaps another time I may accompany you.”
Pure Vanilla barely hid his irritation. He slammed his palm softly on the table—just a little burst of frustration.
Too much.
The cup toppled.
The drink splashed onto White Lily’s uniform.
“Ah! White Lily Cookie—are you okay?! I’m so sorry, is it hot?!” Pure Vanilla shot up in panic, practically leaping over the table to check on her.
She giggled. “It’s fine, just startled.”
“But your uniform—” he muttered, wide-eyed.
“I’ll go get napkins—!”
But before he could dash off, a pale cloth appeared.
A folded handkerchief, handed gently by Dark Cacao.
“Oh? Thank you, Dark Cacao,” White Lily smiled. “I’ll return it tomorrow.”
He nodded without a word as the bell rang, and the students began filing back to class.
“That was close,” she murmured, dabbing at her uniform. “Good thing the drink wasn’t hot.”
Pure Vanilla followed beside her, shoulders heavy with guilt.
He hadn’t meant to lash out. He really didn’t.
Why did he always lose control around him?
“My, Dark Cacao’s handkerchief is lovely…” White Lily admired the embroidery. “So intricate…”
Pure Vanilla gave it a glance.
“Yeah, sure. It’s ni—”
He froze.
Wait.
The pattern.
The embroidery.
It was the same.
The exact same design from the mysterious case he found in the library.
“White Lily… would you mind if I borrowed that handkerchief for a bit?” Pure Vanilla asked, trying to sound casual.
“Oh, of course.” She handed it over without hesitation.
He forced a smile, bowing his head in thanks.
But inside, his heart raced.
That symbol. That embroidery. What does this mean…?
There was a connection.
Between the case.
Between Dark Cacao.
And maybe, just maybe—between the truth they’ve all been kept from.
At Pure Vanilla chamber
Pure Vanilla Cookie rushed to compare the embroidery on Dark Cacao Cookie’s handkerchief with the pattern on the old, plum-colored case.
Yes! The embroidery—it was identical. The silver threadwork on the mysterious case mirrored the design on Dark Cacao's handkerchi—
“Nilla!”
The door burst open.
Of course. Custard. That brother of his had zero regard for privacy.
Pure Vanilla scrambled to hide the case beneath his cloak and turned with a strained smile. “Brother Custard, would it kill you to knock before entering?”
“Oh, right, right—sorry! I was just bored,” Custard whined, flopping dramatically onto Vanilla’s bed.
Pure Vanilla sighed. “And how went your… ah, courtship matters? Who’s the fortunate lady this time?” he asked, approaching with a teasing glint in his eye.
“Oh, it was wonderful! Hazelnut Cookie was so sweet—but some of these ladies, they’re just so difficult!” Custard laughed nervously.
Vanilla narrowed his eyes. “She rejected you, didn’t she.”
“YES!” Custard wailed, dramatically throwing himself into the pillows. “Why did she say no?! I’m the prince! The most charming mage in the land! WHY?! Huhuhuuu NILLAAAA—!”
Welp. He'd done it. He made Custard cry again.
“What am I supposed to tell Father?! I promised him I’d win her over!” Custard sobbed, reaching for the nearest cloth to blow his nose.
Pure Vanilla’s heart nearly stopped.
That was Dark Cacao’s handkerchief.
“No no no—give that back!” he said, moving quickly, but Custard had already buried his face into it.
“Huh… I’ve never seen this pattern before…” Custard mumbled between snorts, examining the damp, unfortunate piece of cloth. “Looks kind of official…”
“Brother. Please. Return that—”
“Oh! This is the national emblem of the Dark Cacao Kingdom!” Custard exclaimed, squinting at the embroidery.
Pure Vanilla froze.
What?
“How did this even get here?” Custard looked at him suspiciously. “Vanilla…”
He backed up.
No.
No.
Nononono.
“Wait, don’t tell me—are you and that Dark Cacao guy a thing?!”
“…Pardon?”
“Oh, come on, Vanilly!” Custard laughed with delight. “He gave you his handkerchief! He’s totally smitten!”
Pure Vanilla stared at him like he’d grown a second frosting crown. “Why would you think THAT?! That doesn’t make any sense—!”
“Duh! That’s Vanillian tradition! You give your handkerchief to someone you like!” Custard said proudly, as if quoting from the Cookie Code of Romance.
That had to be a lie… right?
Besides, White Lily was the one who had it first! She gave it to him! Well he borrow it—
“There’s been a huge misunderstanding,” Pure Vanilla began, trying to explain—before Custard suddenly grabbed his wrist.
“Come on! I saw him training on White Chocolate’s grounds earlier—he must still be there!”
Pure Vanilla’s eyes widened in panic.
“WAIT—BROTHER, THIS ISN’T WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE—BROTHER!! BROOOTHEEERR!!”
Purecacao AU where Dark Cacao is from a fallen kingdom
< >
Pure Vanilla always wore that delicate smile of his—soft and serene, never a trace of anger. His voice never rose, and he never faltered. He was, after all, the embodiment of grace—the youngest prince of the Vanilla Kingdom.
But watching White Lily Cookie continuously talk to that Cacaorian stirred something in him.
Something that disturbed him.
Truly. Disturbed. Him.
Why was he here? What made him so interesting? Was it because he wielded a sword? So what? Could he cast a single spell? No, right?
A gentle slam echoed through his chamber as he shut his journal with more force than usual.
Calm down, Pure Vanilla told himself. Children who cannot control their emotions don’t deserve the crown. Keep calm. You are a prince.
He exhaled, taking up his journal once more, scribbling emotions he dared not speak aloud.
The next class arrived like any other, but of course, White Lily was already daydreaming aloud.
"I wonder what Dark Cacao Cookie does in his free time," she mused, absentmindedly twirling her quill. “Usually Cacaorians train, right? That’s what the history book says...”
Pure Vanilla forced a smile as he restrained the twitch in his brow. “White Lily… why don’t we focus on our group project first?”
“Oh! You’re right. My apologies,” she giggled, distracted yet again as she scribbled some notes.
Pure Vanilla leaned forward, voice sweet as ever. “Oh yes—wasn’t your friend, Hollyberry Cookie, sending you a lunch invitation at her kingdom?”
White Lily perked up. “Yes! Holy invited me for juice!”
Pure Vanilla’s brows rose slightly. “I thought we weren’t legal yet?”
White Lily laughed lightly. “Oh, you know Holly, always saying juice when she means wine. Golden Cheese will be there too!”
Pure Vanilla hummed, thoughtful.
“The truth is… Golden Cheese invited me as well. But I wasn’t sure I’d attend. If you’re going, though… I suppose I’ll come.”
White Lily’s smile could rival sunlight. “Oh, that would be lovely!”
The day arrived.
Pure Vanilla dressed in his royal casuals—soft layers of ivory and gold, his cape brushing the floor like whispers of silk. As he stepped out, he caught sight of his brother, White Chocolate, speaking in hushed tones with their father.
He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But perhaps… just a little.
"Cacaorians? Are you certain?" the King asked, his voice low and sharp.
White Chocolate nodded. “It’s the only way, Father. We all know Cacaorians are born warriors. Perhaps he can help us.”
“Nonsense!” the King snapped. “What if he discovers our secret? What if he destroys us and takes revenge?”
Silence.
The King sighed, then turned. “Vanilla! Pure Pure Vanilla! How are you, my son?” he called out, voice a mask of warmth.
Pure Vanilla approached, bowing slightly. “I’m just awaiting the carriage, Father.”
“Good, good! You didn’t overhear anything, did you?”
A chill slithered down his spine.
“No, Father.”
“Wonderful. Run along then—the carriage is waiting.”
He obeyed. But in his heart, the seed of suspicion had already taken root. It wasn’t that he hated the Cacaorians… it was the secrets. The way his father dropped that topic like it was poison.
It made him hate how the Cacaorian always seemed to carry shadows behind his silence.
The ride to Hollyberry Kingdom was long—two hours of countryside and golden hills, his thoughts gnawing at the edges of his composure.
Upon arrival, he was greeted by cheerful Hollyberrians and guided to the princess’s garden. He followed with polite grace.
And then he stopped.
That familiar dark dough, those long silken locks, those cold violet eyes.
Pure Vanilla’s jaw clenched.
What is HE doing here?
His voice slipped out, low and venomous: “What is he doing here?”
Heads turned. The normally serene prince now stood with a face carved from frost. Even Dark Cacao himself tilted his head at the unexpected reaction.
Pure Vanilla approached, cold as moonlight. “Why is he here? He’s not a noble.”
Hollyberry threw an arm around the stiff prince, laughing. “Ah! Don’t be like that! Cacao’s an old friend! He taught me half my shield tricks!”
Pure Vanilla masked his scowl. “Is that so? I simply didn’t expect a royal gathering to host a commoner.”
He sat beside White Lily with forced elegance.
Golden Cheese laughed heartily. “Bah! Whether commoner or noble, we’re all hard cookies chasing our dreams!”
White Lily nodded in agreement. “Besides, isn’t it nice to have another male in the group?”
Pure Vanilla choked.
“I—I beg your pardon?”
“Male. In the group?” White Lily tilted her head, confused by his confusion.
And just like that, it clicked.
Pure Vanilla now hated Cacaorians.
Not out of jealousy. Not out of fear.
But because this one… this Dark Cacao Cookie… was about to unravel everything.
Meanwhile, Dark Cacao just blinked. He didn’t even realize this was a lunch gathering. He came for a training session with Hollyberry.
What in the sweet name of the ancients was going on?
“Does my presence bother you?” Dark Cacao’s voice, low and composed, shattered the silence between them.
Pure Vanilla grit his teeth—No. No. Vanilians are kind. Gentle. Graceful.
And he was the third prince. A royal. Royals don’t bare their teeth like wolves.
“…No,” he answered coldly.
Damn it, Pure Vanilla. Control yourself. You're not some child with a tantrum—you're a prince.
“Ah, isn’t this delightful!” Hollyberry beamed, as vibrant as the juice in her goblet. “The Vanilla Kingdom showing kindness to Dark Cacao! Friendship blooms!”
Pure Vanilla forced a smile.
A prince always smiles. A prince always plays the part.
White Lily, ever the optimist, beamed at the sight. She was happy. She believed this was a budding friendship.
But Pure Vanilla knew better.
The party passed with laughter, chatter, clinking porcelain.
And when the sun began to kiss the horizon, only he and that Cacaorian brute remained on the garden porch. The girls had excused themselves, claiming beauty rest and chamber talks.
A breeze swept past. Hollyberry’s juice left behind. But Dark Cacao? He sipped tea. Simple, plain tea. Of course. Too proud for juice, perhaps. Too reserved for sweetness.
Pure Vanilla scoffed under his breath. “A little Blueberry Bird told me… you seek to be a cadet under my brother’s command.”
Dark Cacao gave a single glance. “It’s true.”
Silence.
Painful. Agonizing. Torturous silence.
Pure Vanilla prayed to the stars, to the witches, to any ancient god that could free him from this cursed awkwardness.
Then, Dark Cacao broke it.
“Prince White Chocolate rejected me.”
Pure Vanilla’s fingers paused at the lip of his cup.
“Because we Vanilians,” he said sharply, “don’t trust your kind.”
The words spilled with venom.
Cacao’s brows furrowed—just barely. “Is that so? And what, may I ask, do you know of my kind?”
Pure Vanilla put his cup onto the table, voice sharp and rising.
“Hah! We all know what your kingdom did. You made deals with the Dark Enchantress, unleashed curses upon innocent lands. And we—Vanilians—had to clean up your mess.”
His tone sharpened further, heat rising with each word.
“All Cacaorians care about is strength, pride, war. You think you’re so noble with your swords and silence, but you bring ruin wherever you step. All you do is destroy and destro—”
CRACK.
The sound sliced the air like a blade.
Dark Cacao’s mug lay shattered between them. Fragments of ceramic scattered across the stone.
Pure Vanilla smirked.
There it is. The real him. The violent bloodline they try to hide.
But then—
Dark Cacao looked up.
He smiled.
Softly, Forgiving.
“…The King is quite skilled at crafting sweet little lies,” he said.
Pure Vanilla’s heart skipped. No fury? No rage? Just... that?
And yet—he knew.
He knew Dark Cacao was holding back, fighting the beast that could’ve torn him to pieces right there and then.
Dark Cacao leaned forward slightly, voice a low echo beneath the moonlight.
“Before you speak again, little prince… I suggest you do some research first.”
He rose, stepping past Pure Vanilla. “Then perhaps… you’ll understand how my kingdom truly fell.”
And with that, he left.
Leaving behind only the fragments of a cup, the ghost of his words—
—and Pure Vanilla alone with the full moon and a silence far colder than before.
In the vast, enchanted land of Earthbread, there stood a kingdom revered above all: the Vanilla Kingdom. A land where magic thrived like golden sunlight on dew-kissed petals, and kindness was not just a virtue, but law. At the heart of this holy kingdom reigned a monarch known across the lands as King White Vanilla—a sovereign beloved by his people and hailed as the one who once vanquished the darkness that nearly swallowed their world whole.
Or so the story went.
King White Vanilla, wise and radiant as the dawn, was not only the leader of a realm of light but the proud father of three princes, each one a reflection of the kingdom's virtues—yet none alike.
Prince White Chocolate Cookie, the eldest, was a force to behold. With strength unmatched and a blade that danced like lightning in the hands of the wind, he was the pride of the army, the symbol of valor.
Prince Vanilla Custard Cookie, the second son, was the most devout—blessed with holy magic that bent even the most ancient of curses to his will.
And lastly, there was Prince Pure Vanilla Cookie, the youngest and the softest in spirit. Though not as loud in glory as his brothers, his mastery of healing magic had saved more lives than any sword ever could.
Each son was dear to the king, for he saw in them the future of his kingdom.
One quiet evening, the royal family gathered at the long dining table gilded in ivory and lace. The air was sweet with the scent of spiced meat jellies and rose tea. Candles flickered gently, casting soft shadows upon their golden plates. The king, serene in posture yet troubled in heart, set down his knife and observed his sons through thoughtful eyes.
“My beloved sons,” he began, his voice mellow and regal, “As much as I know this topic finds little favor with you, I must ask... When will you each seek a court?”
Silence fell like snow upon the hall.
White Chocolate Cookie stiffened, his fork halting mid-air. “Father,” he said, eyes narrowing, “You know I have little time for such trivial things. My sword calls for my attention far more than a heart ever could.”
The king exhaled softly and turned his gaze to the second son.
“Custard?”
Vanilla Custard Cookie smiled, his expression soft yet composed. “There is someone I’ve spoken with, Father. I would not bring shame to your name.”
The king nodded with a trace of relief, then looked to his youngest.
“Vanilla?”
All eyes turned to the soft-spoken prince who had just finished his meal. Pure Vanilla Cookie looked up slowly, his eyes gentle.
“I’m sorry, Father,” he said sincerely. “My studies demand my focus. I’ve yet to even graduate from the Arcane Sanctum. I’m not ready for... courts, or promises.”
King White Vanilla sighed, but his heart did not grow angry. The boy was still young. And so, with a wave of his hand, he dismissed his sons from the chamber.
The Next Morning
Prince White Chocolate stood atop the stone steps of the military courtyard, eyeing the line of hopeful cadets that stretched into the mist. Flags of gold and ivory flapped above him, announcing a rare recruitment—a chance to serve beneath the strongest prince of Earthbread.
He observed them one by one. Postures too stiff. Hands too soft. Eyes too hesitant.
None impressed him.
That was, until he arrived.
A hush fell over the crowd. All eyes turned toward a lone figure stepping forward. His presence was like thunder before the storm—calm, but laced with something powerful and unspoken. His stance, his gait, even the way his hair framed his stoic face—it was all unlike anything the court had seen.
“Who are you?” White Chocolate asked, his voice laced with suspicion.
The stranger's eyes met his—dark purple meeting royal gold. Calm, unwavering.
“Dark Cacao Cookie,” he replied. His voice was low, steady. “Of the fallen Dark Kingdom.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd like wildfire.
White Chocolate scoffed. “A Cacaorian dares walk these lands after what your kind did to us?”
Dark Cacao did not flinch. “We Cacaorians know well what your king did to us. Yet still, we forgive. We came with open arms.”
His fists tightened behind his back, but his face remained composed. “I am here to serve. To volunteer as your cadet.”
The Vanilla court laughed. Whispers turned to mockery. Even the guards smirked.
To them, he was a relic from a lost kingdom—dirt beneath their pristine boots.
But Dark Cacao stood unmoved.
“If Your Highness doubts me,” he said, stepping forward, “then grant me the honor of a duel.”
The air went still.
White Chocolate's smirk curled darkly. “You challenge me?”
With the arrogance only a firstborn prince could carry, he approached the challenger and stared him down.
“Very well,” he said. “Let us see if your dark blade is worth anything on our sacred ground.”
Steel rang in the air like music.
Their swords clashed in bursts of sparks—swift, relentless. White Chocolate was fast, a storm of golden fury. But Dark Cacao was a mountain, silent and unshakable. His technique was masterful—every movement precise, honed from a lifetime of survival, not privilege.
The duel was no mere test—it was a message.
When White Chocolate’s sword finally fell from his grasp and skittered across the stone, silence reigned. Dark Cacao lowered his blade, but his gaze never faltered.
He had won.
And yet, there was no triumph in his expression. Only restraint.
The prince stared at the ground, humiliated not just by the loss—but by the realization. This warrior was exactly what his army needed. But to accept a Cacaorian? To invite him into the sacred halls of the Vanilla Kingdom?
It went against everything they were raised to believe.
“Leave,” White Chocolate said coldly, jaw clenched.
Dark Cacao bowed—not in reverence, but in pride.
And as he turned away, the shame that filled the courtyard was not his.
It belonged to them.
Dark Cacao Cookie stepped into his dormitory with slow, deliberate steps. The weight of battle still lingered on his shoulders—not the clash of blades, but the war of perception. The courtyard's mockery still echoed faintly in his ears, but he paid it no mind. He knew he had won. His stance had been sharp, his grip never faltering, his technique forged from bloodline and hardship. He had bested the prince—no amount of royal pride could disguise that truth.
He closed the wooden door behind him with a soft thud. This humble space, tucked within the coldest wing of Blueberry Yogurt Academy, was the only place he allowed himself to breathe. Though this institution was famed for its arcane magic, he had no claim to sorcery. He wielded no staff nor spell. But after the fall of the Dark Kingdom, this place became his final refuge.
He removed his gloves and sat heavily on the edge of his bed. His hands—calloused, burned, scarred—trembled slightly as he remembered his father’s final words:
"Dark Cacao... my son... the darkness we speak of is not always shadow and fog. It takes many forms—hatred, jealousy, blind pride. You must not fall to it. You must be the beacon our people need. Make the darkness tremble before our light."
He clenched his jaw, his vision blurring. “A beacon... in a kingdom that sees us as filth,” he whispered to himself. Anger pressed against his ribs like a beast trying to escape. “I’m only here out of pity. They think that offering scraps makes them noble…”
He buried his face in his hands.
No. He couldn’t afford to lose control.
He had studies to complete. A future to carve.
The next morning passed like every other. At the academy cafeteria, students parted like the Red Sea as he approached. Whispers followed him like ghosts, and glances burned into his back. He ignored them all.
He sat in silence, his tray barely touched. The sweet jelly trembled under his fork—too sweet. Everything in this kingdom was cloying: the food, the smiles, the lies. He chewed without tasting.
How long... How long must I hold this rage in my chest? How long before I stop pretending? Could I not crush this sugar castle with my sword? Tear down its king? Show them all what justice tastes like...
A gentle tap on his shoulder cut through the spiral.
He turned.
Standing behind him was a young lady with ivory hair cascading like petals and eyes like glimmering rubies. Her expression was uncertain, yet kind.
“Hello…” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
Dark Cacao Cookie blinked. Of all things, this he hadn’t expected.
“Afternoon,” he said coolly, sitting straighter.
“I… I read that Cacaorians don’t care much for sweet things,” she murmured, extending a small cloth pouch. “So… I brought you this.”
He took it hesitantly, untying the strings. Inside: cacao nibs. Pure, bitter, familiar.
His eyes widened, just for a second.
“How did you—?”
“I’m White Lily. From class 3-1. You’re Dark Cacao Cookie, aren’t you? Class 3-3?” she asked softly.
He gave a polite nod. “That is correct.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you.”
He hesitated. “My apologies, Lady White Lily. I should not accept gifts—”
“Oh, please.” Her smile brightened like dawn. “It’s not a gift. It’s a gesture.”
A pause passed between them before he bowed his head slightly.
“Then… thank you. Your thoughtfulness is rare in this place.”
“You’re welcome, Dark Cacao.”
Just then, a voice called from behind the columns.
“White Lily Cookie!”
The youngest prince, Pure Vanilla, rushed forward, his golden hair bouncing with each hurried step. He grabbed her hand with urgency.
“The class is about to start. Come on.”
She turned back, waving gently. “It was nice talking to you!”
But Dark Cacao didn’t wave back.
He watched in silence as the youngest son of the king—his hair shining like morning sun—pulled White Lily away. Pure Vanilla Cookie glanced back at him, eyes narrowing slightly as if scanning a threat.
“You should be more careful, White Lily,” he whispered, just loud enough. “Cacaorians are dangerous.”
And just like that, they disappeared down the corridor, leaving behind only the scent of blossoms and bitterness.
Dark Cacao clenched the pouch of cacao nibs tightly in his hand.
He would endure.
He would remember.
And he would never forget what they whispered behind silk masks.
Dark Cacao Cookie felt his nose grow stuffy. What was happening? Why did his kingdom suddenly feel colder than before? Had the climate changed?
"Dark Choco Cookie… is the snow harsher than usual?" Dark Cacao asked as he walked toward the prince.
"Not really. It’s the same weather as always, the same temperature." Dark Choco paused his work and turned to him. "Is something wrong, Father?"
"I feel… colder," Dark Cacao admitted before abruptly sneezing.
ACHOO!
The sound echoed through the kingdom. His two dragons immediately emerged from his tattoos, swirling around him in concern.
"My lord… I fear you may be unwell," one of them spoke.
Dark Cacao? Sick? Nonsense. He had endured centuries in the bitter cold. This was nothing.
"Tch. Perhaps it’s just dust or feathers," he muttered, wiping his nose.
"Apologies, my lord… but you’re burning hot. Literally," his dragon insisted.
"I am not," Dark Cacao snapped, but Dark Choco had already approached him, placing a hand on his forehead.
"You’re feverish," the prince confirmed.
Dark Cacao stumbled slightly, catching himself as he sat down. Dark Choco sighed, helping him into a more comfortable position.
"You’re burning up, Father. You need to rest," Dark Choco insisted.
Dark Cacao scoffed but swayed unsteadily. "No… I’m not…" he mumbled before succumbing to exhaustion.
Oh, how stubborn the king was.
Dark Choco sighed in exasperation. It had been two days, and his father still refused to rest properly. Desperate for answers, he reached out to Pure Vanilla Cookie through their communicator.
"He refuses to eat. All he does is force himself to work," Dark Choco sighed, rubbing his temple.
"I see…" Pure Vanilla hummed, concern evident in his voice. "Has he been sleeping well?"
"No. I hear him tossing and turning all night, groaning in discomfort. I even placed a heater in his room, but he’s still freezing."
"No food at all?"
"None. Everything he eats makes his stomach churn, and he just ends up throwing it back up."
Pure Vanilla nodded thoughtfully. "How about a soft oat porridge from Vanilla Kingdom? I can bring some to you."
Dark Choco stiffened. "N-No! Father will be furious!"
"Oh, it’ll be fine," Pure Vanilla assured him with a warm smile.
Meanwhile, Dark Cacao sat at his desk, buried in paperwork.
"This is nothing. I am a king. I have conquered many enemies. A mere fever will not—" he paused mid-sentence, sniffling and reaching for a tissue.
At the citadel gates, Pure Vanilla greeted Milk Cookie, who had accompanied him from the Vanilla Kingdom.
"He’s such a kind boy," Pure Vanilla mused, watching Milk Cookie depart.
Dark Choco nodded in agreement, waving farewell before turning back to Pure Vanilla.
"I hope you can handle my father. He’s been… difficult. We’re all worried," he admitted.
"How is he now?" Pure Vanilla asked.
"He forbids anyone from entering his chambers and grumbles whenever we tell him to rest," Dark Choco sighed.
Pure Vanilla chuckled. "You know, sometimes he just doesn’t want to feel like a burden or—worse—embarrassed."
Dark Choco simply nodded, leading him inside.
As they entered the castle, the servants greeted them with deep bows.
"Your Highness, Pure Vanilla Cookie."
"Apologies for the sudden visit," Pure Vanilla said kindly. "May I know where the king is?"
One of the servants nodded. "His Majesty is in his study. Allow me to escort you."
Pure Vanilla turned to Dark Choco with a playful glint in his eye.
"Well… I hope you can handle ruling the kingdom for a few days," he teased.
Dark Choco chuckled. "I’ll try my best."
A soft knock echoed through Dark Cacao’s study, startling him. Who dares knock on the king’s door?
He slowly got up and opened it—only to find Pure Vanilla standing there, waving at him.
Dark Cacao stared.
"I heard you’re sick," Pure Vanilla said gently.
Dark Cacao huffed. But then, in a rare moment of honesty, he murmured, "My head is spinning. My body feels like it’s crumbling… and the cold… is no longer my friend."
He whined—quietly—but enough for Pure Vanilla to hear.
Pure Vanilla laughed, stepping forward to pet his hair. "Oh, come on, you…"
For the first time in days, Dark Cacao slept peacefully in his chambers.
Dark Choco entered later, carrying tea for Pure Vanilla. Watching his father sleep so soundly, he couldn’t help but whisper in disbelief, "What kind of magic do you have?"
Pure Vanilla chuckled, accepting the tea. "Sometimes… he just needs to be pampered."
Dark Choco nodded. What a sage you are, Pure Vanilla Cookie.
The next morning, Dark Cacao Cookie felt refreshed. No—more than that, he felt reborn. His body no longer ached, his head was clear, and the cold? Ha! The cold was nothing to him!
He stretched his limbs, feeling strength surge back into his body. He could run, jump, even parkour if he wanted to!
Go to hell, fever!
As he stretched, his gaze landed on a familiar white robe draped over a nearby chair. Pure Vanilla? He’s still here?
Before he could think further, the door creaked open, revealing Pure Vanilla holding a bowl of warm, fragrant vanilla oat porridge.
"You’re awake," Pure Vanilla greeted with a gentle smile as he stepped inside. "How was your sleep?"
Dark Cacao nodded, a rare warmth in his expression.
"Thank you… for taking care of me."
Without thinking, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Pure Vanilla’s chest.
Pure Vanilla chuckled, setting the bowl down and running a soothing hand through Dark Cacao’s hair. "I’m glad you’re feeling better."
Then—
A soft cough.
Dark Cacao jolted, pulling away instantly.
Standing at the doorway was Dark Choco Cookie, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised.
"Sorry to interrupt… but you have a meeting at ten, Father," Dark Choco said, his tone perfectly neutral—too neutral.
Dark Cacao cleared his throat, utterly mortified.
"Thank you, son," he mumbled.
Dark Choco nodded, turning to leave. But Dark Cacao knew.
He just knew his son was going to tease him for days.
The Dark Cacao Kingdom is pretty scarce with resources, yeah? And Dark Cacao is often seen not caring for his own wellbeing in favour of protecting his kingdom (as Affogato mentioned somewhere in the story)?
PURECACAO BUT DARK CACAO HAS ANOREXIA AND NEEDS PURE VANILLA TO HELP HIM BEFORE HE CRUMBLES 🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥
HELP — PURECACAO
ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᶜᵃᶜᵃᵒ ˢᵒ ˢᵏᶦⁿⁿʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ᶜʰᵒᶜᵒ ᶦˢ ʷᵒʳʳᶦᵉᵈ
The king is... different. He pours himself into his work—his kingdom is all that matters.
Dark Cacao Cookie is the kind of ruler who prioritizes everyone else over himself, and it’s concerning. *Literally concerning.*
Dark Choco approaches him, hesitating before speaking. “Father… you look so fragile.”
Dark Cacao scoffs, brushing off the comment. “Fragile? I am a king. I must protect my kingdom and my people.”
Dark Choco stares at him, his grip tightening. “Father, how about we have dinner tonight? You’ve been neglecting your meals, and—”
“The Cacao Kingdom is more important! Do you not understand how scarce our resources are? Have you even noticed? Our land is rare—cold and unforgiving.” Dark Cacao’s voice is firm, unwavering.
“If it means protecting my kingdom, I do not mind exhaling my last breath here.”
Dark Choco’s eyes widen. He doesn’t know what to say. What to do.
His father is so frail, so thin, so weak. He looks like he could crumble at any moment. This is why Dark Choco always begs the trading merchants, but none of them ever accept his proposals. The Cacao Kingdom is too harsh, too cold, too difficult to traverse.
And his father is too stubborn.
There is one way. Only one way.
Dark Choco excuses himself, saying he must embark on a long journey. His father brushes it off as usual, his mind too preoccupied with the kingdom.
Dark Choco arrives at the Vanilla Kingdom, hood drawn over his face. He approaches the grand gates, where a guard stops him. “Do you have a guild membership or a kingdom ID?”
Dark Choco hesitates. “I don’t… but I assure you, I must see Pure Vanilla Cookie. It’s important.”
The guard shakes his head. “Many say that. Our king is too kind—easily fooled—but we love him and will protect him. I need ID verification.”
With a deep breath, Dark Choco removes his hood. “I am Dark Choco Cookie, heir to the Dark Cacao Kingdom. I must speak with Pure Vanilla Cookie.”
The guards exchange glances. “Do not lie about the Cacao Kingdo—”
“Ah, Dark Choco Cookie.”
A gentle, familiar voice interrupts them. Pure Vanilla Cookie smiles as he stands at the entrance.
“Your Highness?” The guards bow immediately.
Pure Vanilla simply chuckles. “What brings you so far from the Dark Cacao Kingdom? Please, come in.” He gestures for Dark Choco to follow him.
Dark Choco hesitates but steps inside. The warmth of the Vanilla Kingdom envelops him. It’s… too warm. He’s already starting to sweat.
“How is Dark Cacao? I haven’t heard from him in some time.” Pure Vanilla’s voice is soft, kind.
Dark Choco swallows. “Your Majesty, Pure Vanilla Cookie—”
“Oh, Pure Vanilla is fine!” The king laughs, his staff glowing faintly. But as his eyes settle on Dark Choco, his smile falters. He notices something is wrong. “What happened?”
Dark Choco tells him everything—about the kingdom, about his father.
“I see…” Pure Vanilla listens intently, concern in his eyes.
“I’m sorry for coming here empty-handed, without anything to offer in return.”
“Oh, my child, it is fine.” Pure Vanilla smiles gently before turning to call his merchants and prepare supplies.
Dark Choco’s eyes widen as he watches Pure Vanilla set everything in motion—food, medicine, trade goods, and more, all packed for the journey.
“Let’s go, my child. Let’s meet your father.”
They arrive at the Dark Cacao Kingdom, the harsh winds biting at them as they step forward.
Dark Cacao is furious. “Did you tell other kingdoms that I am not a capable king?! That I cannot even feed my own people?!”
Before he can reach Dark Choco, Pure Vanilla gently places a hand on his arm.
“Cacao…” His voice is warm, soothing.
Dark Cacao hesitates. He turns away, his jaw tightening.
“I will talk to him,” Pure Vanilla assures Dark Choco. “You go tell the people about the new trading arrangements.”
Dark Choco nods and leaves.
Now, in the king’s study, Pure Vanilla Cookie faces Dark Cacao Cookie.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” he says gently. “It’s okay to ask for help.”
Dark Cacao doesn’t meet his gaze.
“Dark Cacao…” Pure Vanilla takes his hand. “I know it’s difficult.”
“I just… I don’t know,” Dark Cacao admits, his voice barely above a whisper.
Pure Vanilla embraces him. “Then let’s take one step at a time. First… eat something. I brought cacao oats.”
Dark Cacao hesitates, then slowly nods.
“You look so thin, my dear,” Pure Vanilla murmurs as they sit together, sharing a meal.
Dark Cacao scoffs. “Tch. You are one to talk.”
Pure Vanilla laughs. “Touché. But you are still skinnier.” He nudges him. “Now eat.”
Dark Cacao nods, and for the first time in a long while, they eat together—warmth returning to his heart, even in the coldest of kingdoms.
The Dragon Lord had been staying in Vanilla Kingdom quite frequently as of late.
Pure Vanilla stirred awake, letting out a soft yawn. The morning sun spilled through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. He stretched before turning to the other side of the bed—only to find it empty.
His brows furrowed. Where is Dark Cacao?
Slipping on his robe, he stepped out of the bedroom, following the faint sounds of sizzling water. As he passed by the bathroom, he realized the shower was still running. Curiosity got the best of him, and he peeked inside, only to be met with the sight of Dark Cacao beneath the cascading water.
“Oh, pardon me,” Pure Vanilla said, his voice laced with amusement.
Dark Cacao turned, grabbing a towel and draping it over his shoulders before stepping out. He ran another smaller towel over his dripping hair, his expression calm as ever.
“Something wrong, my dear?”
Pure Vanilla shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You look like John Wick Cookie."
Dark Cacao blinked, confused. “Who?”
Pure Vanilla chuckled as he helped dry his hair. "He's a fictional character from one of White Lily’s books. She told me the story once, saying it was awesome.”
Dark Cacao hummed in thought. “And why compare him to me?”
Pure Vanilla’s smile widened mischievously. “Well… he has tattoos, and he looks like youuu~”
Dark Cacao let out a low chuckle. “Why the sudden obsession with my tattoos? You do realize they are living dragons, right?”
Pure Vanilla nodded eagerly, his fingers tracing the intricate designs along Dark Cacao’s arm. “But they look amazing on you… makes you look even more handsome.”
Dark Cacao smirked. “If you love them that much, I’ll be more confident showing them off.”
Pure Vanilla practically squealed in delight. “Thank you, my love!”
From that day on, Pure Vanilla made sure Dark Cacao’s wardrobe in Vanilla Kingdom consisted of armless outfits. Every. Single. One.
And oh, how it drove Pure Vanilla crazy.
Dark Cacao showered five times a day while staying in Vanilla Kingdom—partly because he got sweaty easily, having come from a much colder climate, but also because he needed to keep himself cool in the kingdom’s warmer atmosphere.
But honestly? Pure Vanilla loved sweaty Dark Cacao.
Watching him train the Vanillian warriors under the scorching sun, dressed in his sleeveless top and hakama-style pants, his biceps flexing with every movement, his tattoos gleaming in the light—hello? Could someone call an ambulance? Because even though Pure Vanilla could heal himself, he was not okay.
And it wasn’t just him. Everyone in the kingdom was mesmerized.
Male and female Vanillians alike whispered in awe. The Dragon Lord, in all his glory—his strong arms, those living dragon tattoos, his hair tied back in a ponytail by none other than Pure Vanilla himself—was a sight to behold.
Pure Vanilla glared.
Excuse me? His Dark Cacao was not for public admiration. They can all stop looking now, thank you very much.
After the training session, Dark Cacao approached him, wiping sweat from his brow.
“My apologies… did I take too long? I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for dinner,” he said, his voice deep and laced with warmth.
Pure Vanilla waved his hand dismissively, keeping his composure. “Not at all, my love. Shall we?” Yes, please. Let’s get you away from all these staring eyes.
Dark Cacao exhaled, glancing toward the palace. “Ah, but may I take a shower first before dinner?” He reached for Pure Vanilla’s hand, caressing it gently.
Pure Vanilla’s gaze softened. “Of course. I had Black Raisin Cookie fetch extra ice from Frost Queen Cookie’s domain. She’s already given her permission, so you’ll have enough to cool down properly.”
Dark Cacao’s eyes lit up. “Really? Thank you, my dear.” He pressed a kiss to Pure Vanilla’s knuckles, earning a delighted giggle.
At Dinner
Pure Vanilla chewed his jelly meat slowly, his gaze flickering toward Dark Cacao. “I see you’re leaving tomorrow…” he said softly.
Dark Cacao nodded, sipping his tea. “Yes… I’ve been here for a week. I’m sure Dark Choco is whining about me leaving without telling him again.” He chuckled.
Pure Vanilla smiled fondly. “I miss him. How is he?”
“He’s doing well,” Dark Cacao replied. “He’s learning how to rule.”
Pure Vanilla hummed. “We should have dinner with him sometime. Perhaps I can visit the Cacao Kingdom.”
Dark Cacao reached across the table, taking his hand. “Just tell me when, my dear. I will personally come to fetch you.”
Pure Vanilla’s smile softened as he squeezed his hand.
After Dinner
Dark Cacao sat behind Pure Vanilla, carefully brushing through his silky blonde hair. “Why is your hair smoother than mine now?” he teased.
Pure Vanilla laughed. “I’ve been copying your routine.”
Dark Cacao smirked, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Copycat.”
Pure Vanilla giggled, turning to face him. “Get some rest, my love. You’re leaving tomorrow…”
Dark Cacao hummed, pulling him close. “Then let me enjoy this moment a little longer.”
And so, in the quiet comfort of Vanilla Kingdom, under the warm glow of candlelight, the two kings sat together, savoring the last peaceful night before Dark Cacao’s departure.
But Pure Vanilla already knew—he’d find an excuse to visit Cacao Kingdom soon.
I loveloveloveLOVE your works, and I have a silly request in mind >w<
Can you pleaaase write Dark Cacao being a theatre kid? I think he would be one :) Plays aren't hosted often in the Cacao Kingdom though because of their strict nature, but after hearing there's a big one in the Hollyberry Kingdom, Dark Cacao wants to beg her to go with him but doesn't want to embarrass himself.
THEATER — DARK CACAO COOKIE
ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᶜᵃᶜᵃᵒ'ˢ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿ ᶦⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉᵃᵗᵉʳ ᵐᵘˢᶦᶜᵃˡˢ.
Dark Cacao Cookie was not one for frivolous entertainment. His days were spent training, studying, and ensuring the safety of his kingdom. The Cacao Kingdom held strict traditions—entertainment consisted of traditional dances, sword fights, and music performances. That was all he had ever known.
But everything changed when he visited the Hollyberry Kingdom with the other Ancients.
There, he witnessed something… unexpected.
A play.
It was called Ham and Ton… what? Was it about politics? A love story?! Drama?!
Dark Cacao sat through the entire performance, utterly mesmerized. This was unlike anything in his kingdom.
When no one was looking, he silently took one of the theater flyers back home.
That night, he read about all sorts of plays—Feathers, God: The Musical, Lawfully Blonde—but one title stood out to him the most:
The Mask of the Opera.
Oh, how he longed to see it! But…
He hesitated.
A stoic, battle-hardened king like him… interested in musical theater?
How ridiculous!
Should he ask Pure Vanilla? No, he would definitely tease him.
Golden Cheese? No way—that would be a death sentence.
White Lily? She’d probably be more interested in just reading the story.
Dark Choco? …Too awkward.
Dark Cacao sighed, rubbing his temples. Then, an idea struck him.
He hesitantly activated his oracle communicator.
Moments later, a cheerful voice boomed through.
"Dark Cacao! How rare! What can I help you with, my friend?" Hollyberry Cookie greeted him warmly.
Dark Cacao hesitated. He needed to ask… but the words refused to leave his mouth.
ASK HER! ASK HER! COME ON, DON’T BE A COWARD!
"Is something wrong?" Hollyberry asked, tilting her head.
"No—well, uh…" Dark Cacao cleared his throat. "I was wondering about… the thing in Hollyberry Kingdom… the, uh… dancing stuff?"
"Oh? Do you mean our monthly theater?!" Hollyberry beamed. "Yes! Here, entertainment is a must! The young Hollyberrians are so excited for The Mask of the Opera this month!"
Dark Cacao winced. He wanted to go so badly.
"W-well, is that so…" he muttered.
"Something wrong? You okay, Dark Cacao Cookie?"
"Y-yes, I am… I was just… curious."
Hollyberry hummed. "Hmm… is there anything I can help with?"
Dark Cacao swallowed hard.
This was it.
"Hollyberry Cookie, I—uh… how do I say this respectfully…" He stumbled over his words.
Hollyberry blinked. Was he offended by the theater or something?
"Can I… w-will you… uh…" Dark Cacao’s palms were sweaty. "Will you… accompany me to see The Mask of the Opera?"
Silence.
Then—
Laughter.
"OH, SURE! Why not?! It’s been ages since I’ve seen it!" Hollyberry exclaimed.
Dark Cacao sighed in relief. "I… appreciate it."
"Don’t worry, my friend! We’ll have fun!"
The next day, Dark Cacao entered Hollyberry Kingdom with a rare expression on his face—excitement.
Hollyberry greeted him at the gates with a grin. "You look excited, Dark Cacao!"
"Is that so?" He coughed. "I suppose… I have been waiting for this."
As they entered the grand theater, Hollyberry chuckled and took her seat beside him.
Meanwhile—
Group Chat Notification
The other Ancients were busy with their daily affairs when their oracle communicators buzzed.
A picture.
It was Dark Cacao, his eyes beaming as he watched The Mask of the Opera.
"He really enjoys the show!" – Hollyberry Cookie.
The Ancients burst into laughter in their own homes.
"I'm glad he's happy." – Pure Vanilla.
"Ohh, I love that play!" – White Lily.
"100% gonna tease him." – Golden Cheese.
Dark Cacao had no idea what was coming.
A week had passed, and the Ancient Cookies were gathered in Hollyberry Kingdom for a tea party. The air was warm with the scent of freshly brewed tea and sweet pastries, but the real topic of the day was still Dark Cacao’s unexpected new passion.
Pure Vanilla, ever the dramatist, suddenly placed a hand over his heart and recited in a soft, dreamy voice, “Oh, my dearly love… may I see your face?”
Dark Cacao, who had been quietly sipping his tea, immediately tensed. His grip on the teacup tightened as he muttered under his breath, “Silence… that man is charming. He has a good voice.”
The others burst into laughter.
Golden Cheese nearly choked on her drink. “DID HE CRY?! I BET HE CRIED!!”
Hollyberry chuckled, patting Dark Cacao’s shoulder. “Oh, let him be. He’s in his moment.”
Still flustered, Dark Cacao grumbled, but his crimson face betrayed him. “Theater musicals are good…” he admitted in a low voice.
The entire table erupted into another round of laughter.
“Yes, yes, we know, Dark Cacao.”
The stoic king only buried his face in his teacup, pretending not to hear, as the others happily celebrated his newfound love for theater.
Is purecaco (+lily occasionally) the only ship u write atm or do you accept rqs of other ships :o. I really like reading ur romances and i was wondering if u do other ships!! No worries if u dont !!
To be honest, I don’t know, lol! The only reason I use Dark Cacao so much is because I love him.
The Ancients are the only cookies whose stories I’ve read, so yeah.
If you want me to do other ships, that’s fine, but I’ll need a lot of time for research and stuff.
Dark Cacao Cookie stared at the letter from GingerBrave Cookie, detailing how Pure Vanilla Cookie was now undertaking a Beast Yeast mission. He remembered how awful those missions could be. With a sigh, Dark Cacao scribbled a letter addressed to the Vanilla Kingdom, hoping for his dearest's safety.
He handed the letter to an icing owl, instructing it to deliver the message promptly.
Days passed without a response. The silence gnawed at him, and Dark Cacao Cookie felt his mind spiraling. Was Pure Vanilla okay? Why hadn’t he heard anything? He prayed to the witches, hoping they would watch over him.
One cold evening, Dark Cacao paced the halls of his citadel, his thoughts wandering aimlessly. A servant approached, holding a scroll.
“Your Majesty, a letter from the Vanilla Kingdom—”
Before the servant could finish, Dark Cacao had already snatched the scroll. He unrolled it to find a single message: “I’m home.”
Tears threatened to fall. “Fetch the dragons! I’m going to the Vanilla Kingdom!”
His dragons, resting in his chamber, were startled by the sudden urgency. They morphed into one mighty beast, allowing Dark Cacao to mount them quickly.
“Apologies, Dragon Lord. Why the sudden rush?” one of the dragons asked.
Dark Cacao, seated firmly, stood as they flew. The icy winds of winter gradually gave way to the warm air near the Vanilla Kingdom.
“My dearest is home,” he whispered.
Upon arrival, the Vanillans were shocked by the black-and-white dragon landing at the edge of the town. Security scrambled, summoning Strawberry Crepe Cookie to manage the situation.
“Excuse me, sir, you cannot—” a guard began, but Dark Cacao jumped down from the dragon before they could finish.
“Do not stand in my way,” he said sternly, storming past them. The dragon vanished, its essence retreating into the tattoo on his shoulder.
Even Strawberry Crepe Cookie, usually skeptical, was speechless. The townsfolk buzzed with confusion. They really saw a dragon!
Dark Cacao entered the main hall.
“Excuse me—how can I help—” a Vanillan steward began, only to be interrupted by Dark Cacao’s piercing gaze.
“Where is Pure Vanilla Cookie?” he demanded urgently.
“His Majesty is in the gar—” The steward didn’t finish before Dark Cacao had already left.
He rushed through the garden entrance, huffing. There, among blooming lilies, stood Pure Vanilla Cookie, gently petting a sheep. The light around him seemed to glow brighter.
“Is that you, Dark Cacao Cookie?” Pure Vanilla turned, his smile gentle.
Dark Cacao ran to him, his knees weakening as he knelt and took Pure Vanilla’s hand, kissing his knuckles softly.
Pure Vanilla giggled. “You shouldn’t do that.”
“Is it wrong to show my courtesy?” Dark Cacao murmured. Pure Vanilla shook his head.
“I meant the commotion in town,” Pure Vanilla teased.
Dark Cacao stood. “My apologies. I will take responsibility for any disturbance.”
Pure Vanilla’s gaze softened. “You look handsome.”
“And you look stunning,” Dark Cacao whispered.
“Was the mission hard?” Dark Cacao asked, walking beside him.
Pure Vanilla smiled. “It was, but I managed.”
Dark Cacao nodded. “My dear…” he whispered.
Pure Vanilla chuckled. “Why the sudden nickname?”
“I was worried sick after reading GingerBrave’s letters. Shadow Milk Cookie—did he break you?” Dark Cacao stopped in front of him, his concern palpable.
Pure Vanilla was silent but smiled with his usual compassion. “Yes… but I understand why he acted that way. He just needed a friend. It was foolish of me not to see it sooner.”
Dark Cacao nodded but still felt worry gnawing at him. Pure Vanilla booped his nose playfully.
“Don’t overthink it. Your wrinkles are showing,” Pure Vanilla teased.
“My apologies. I’m centuries old, after all.” Dark Cacao smirked.
“Oh, pardon me, old man,” Pure Vanilla laughed.
They shared a light-hearted moment before Dark Cacao asked, “Who do you think will complete the next Beast Yeast mission?”
“Hollyberry, perhaps? Or White Lily? Whoever it is, I wish for their safety,” Pure Vanilla said thoughtfully.
Dark Cacao nodded again.
“You seem lighter,” Pure Vanilla observed.
“Yes… my burden has been lifted,” Dark Cacao admitted with a chuckle.
“I’m glad,” Pure Vanilla said with a glance. “So, Dragon Lord, I heard you can ride a dragon now.”
Dark Cacao groaned. “Yes, but please don’t tease me.”
Pure Vanilla laughed. “I missed you.”
“I missed you more,” Dark Cacao replied softly.
Silence settled between them—comfortable and peaceful.
“How about dinner, Your Majesty Pure Vanilla Cookie?” Dark Cacao offered, extending his arm.
Pure Vanilla chuckled, Taking his arm. “I would love to, Dragon Lord Dark Cacao.”
They exited the garden, laughter trailing behind them.
“Can I ride the dragon too?” Pure Vanilla’s eyes beamed with excitement.
“After dinner, my dear,” Dark Cacao promised.
Together, they walked toward the castle, the future bright before them.
Bonus Scene
"My, the dragons truly live inside you..." Pure Vanilla observed the intricate tattoos on Dark Cacao’s shoulders, his fingers lightly tracing the swirling designs.
"Black and white dragons... I’ve heard many stories about them before," Pure Vanilla added with a smile, his eyes filled with wonder.
"Are you done? It’s freezing out here." Dark Cacao grumbled as he reached for his shirt.
"Don’t lie to me—you’re best friends with the cold," Pure Vanilla laughed, his teasing light and affectionate.
"You’re just embarrassed," he teased further, a playful glint in his eyes.
Dark Cacao let out a long sigh. "My dear, I look like a gangster with these tattoos."
"Oh, come now, you look cool, my love! Oh, how I wish I could have my own tattoo..." Pure Vanilla’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he imagined it.
Dark Cacao chuckled. "I can make you one," he teased.
Pure Vanilla’s face immediately turned red, and without hesitation, he swung his staff at Dark Cacao’s shoulder.
"Ouch!" Dark Cacao winced, rubbing the spot where the staff had connected.
"Pervert!" Pure Vanilla huffed as he turned away, his ears still burning.
Dark Cacao couldn’t help but laugh softly as he followed behind. "It was just a suggestion, my dear..."
