Work Text:
Heat radiated from a small oven, the orange flames illuminating a portion of the barren room and a seated figure. The rest of the room was freezing, yet the figure didn't react, accustomed to the cold that would accompany the snowstorms of the Dark Cacao Kingdom. Despite the cold seeping into his dough, the man didn't even shiver.
After all, how could he care about such things when he was about to meet his child?
He never was one to care about his future, always putting the well-being of his kingdom and its citizens first. Any of his personal wants and desires were pushed aside, collecting dust in the deepest recesses of his mind.
But now?
Now, he sat there staring into the fire, a sliver of excitement causing his hands to tremble. He hadn't felt like this since… the Dark Flour War. He’d only felt satisfaction as his kingdom prospered, his subjects were kept safe from the Licorice Sea.
Now would mark the thirty-sixth hour he'd spent seated in front of the oven, transfixed by the flames and the way it would crackle with life, anticipation eating away at him.
Now, he wondered what type of person his child would be. Would they be righteous and resolute like him? Compassionate and loud, like Hollyberry Cookie? Proud and loyal, like Golden Cheese Cookie? Knowledgeable and thoughtful, like White Lily Cookie? Or kind and loving like Pure Vanilla Cookie?
Dark Cacao didn't know.
But he knew that his child would be someone Dark Cacao would be proud of.
No matter what, they would be the one cookie Dark Cacao could love more than life.
He was willing to lay his life down for someone he didn't know yet.
It was strange.
Watching as the small lump of dough shaped like a cookie was baked, Dark Cacao began to question himself.
Did he even have what it took to be a good parent?
Doubt reared its ugly head.
No one on Earthbread would describe him as caring or nurturing. They were more likely to refer to him as stoic and cold, unfit to raise a child. With that thought, he asked himself:
Are they right?
Would he be unable to fulfill their needs?
Would he fail to be the parent his child needed?
His heart dropped.
Would he become his father?
The mere thought of becoming like that man made his body tremble. The doubt that simmered in his gut like molten lava morphed into an angry wave of fear. A wave that threatened to consume everything in its path, to engulf him until all he knew was the darkness that surrounded the fallen.
The pounding of his heart began to speed up as the sound of his jam rushing filled his ears. His mind was running a mile a minute, much too fast to properly think. Everything was too much and nothing at all, and he just wanted it to stop. His hands trembled, and his chest felt like a weight had been placed on top, unable to draw in any air.
He needed to breathe, he reminded himself.
His throat closed up.
Just breathe-
Ding!
Dark Cacao flinched.
It was quiet.
The timer had gone off.
Wait.
The timer went off.
The king swore under his breath as he stood up from his kneeling position, his head spinning due to a wave of vertigo. His movements were frantic, his legs stumbling and palms sweating as he stepped closer to the oven. He quickly grabbed the dial, turning it until it clicked before sloppily pulling the oven mitts over his hands and pulling the oven doors open by the handles.
Heat blasted onto his face, the sudden onslaught making him recoil harshly. He took a deep breath before carefully – oh so carefully – picked the metal tray up, hissing slowly as the heat nearly burned his hand, even with the oven mitts on. Dark Cacao was quick to place the tray onto a nearby table, next to the half-eaten meals given to him by the servants.
He waited impatiently for the dough of his child to harden, unwilling to cause accidental harm to their body. He paced back and forth, absentmindedly chewing on his lip. It wasn't until the taste of jam filled his mouth that he realized that he had bitten his lip bloody. He sucked in a breath, wiping away the jam with his sleeve – he had to wash it anyway.
Dark Cacao sighed, turning back to the baby on the tray. It should be time, he thought. He took cautious steps, grabbing the baby blanket he had personally picked out on the way over.
He looked down at the newborn, breath catching in his throat.
This was his child.
His son, it seemed.
He shook his head. He had to focus and swaddle the baby.
He took the cotton blanket and spread the fabric out on the table, moving the plates of food away. Dark Cacao carefully picked his son up, just like the midwives explained to him. With a tenderness no one would believe he could possess, he placed his son on top of the blanket, making sure the head was above the blanket. He carefully wrapped his son up, cautious as to not wrap it too tightly.
Once his son was swaddled, he picked him up, making sure his head was supported.
This was his son.
The boy was here, in his arms. Healthy.
His vision blurred.
It felt as if a part he didn't even know was missing finally clicked. Finally whole.
The baby moved. He froze.
Dark Cacao watched with wide eyes as the baby shuffled, letting out a small yawn before opening his eyes. The baby peered up at him curiously, tilting his head to the side.
The king let out a breath in awe.
His son had beautiful ruby colored eyes, curious and innocent, unaware of the workings of the outside world.
“Hello there…” He breathed, voice rough from disuse and lack of water. The baby simply stared at him, but Dark Cacao didn't mind. “Dark Choco Cookie… yes, you are Dark Choco Cookie, Prince of the Dark Cacao Kingdom, and… my son.”
He almost couldn't believe that his son was finally here, but as he watched a toothless smile spread on Dark Choco’s face, he knew it was real.
A hand escaped the swaddle, reaching out toward him, and with great care, Dark Cacao took a hold of his small hand. The baby laughed, a beautiful and joyous sound, and a tear slid down the man’s face.
He vowed to raise his son as a strong, just, and kind warrior. No matter what obstacle fate threw their way, he would stand strong and protect his son to the very end. His son was someone he would always be proud of.
Standing in the jam-riddled snow, clutching his injured chest, Dark Cacao felt as if a part of his soul was taken away.
Maybe it had been.
He weeps as snow falls from the sky.