Archive of Our Own

It’s rare there’s thundersnow in the Dark Cacao Kingdom, but it’s never an impossibility. Even so… it’s a dangerous phenomenon. Almost worse than a blizzard, because you can’t hear the danger until it’s right on top of you. The sky flashes. Thunder crackles softly. It’s the only sound, past the snapping of the fireplace. The black citadel is… quiet. As if everyone is holding their breath for the storm to pass.

Crunchy Chip is settled on the couch, frowning, staring into the flames. It’s rare he’s so quiet, too… but it’s not a surprise. He’s never taken thunder well, nor has he ever been entirely comfortable indoors. There’s no one who could navigate a blizzard as well as he can, but even he has limits.

“I hear the kitchen is preparing minced jelly pie for dinner,” I say, attempting to take his mind off of the storm outside as thunder rumbles overhead, just outside the citadel. 

Crunchy Chip’s hands go still in Cream Wolf’s fur. The wolf is pressed up against his legs, shivering at the unfamiliar sound of thunder.

“What’s so special about minced jelly pie? You never care what’s for dinner, Caramel Arrow Cookie,” He asks, glancing nervously at the window overlooking the citadel. The snow is still falling in large, fluffy white flakes with no signs of stopping anytime soon. But it’s not blizzard-levels of snow, and the cobblestone streets are devoid of activity. It’s beautiful, like this, with the distant spires little more than gray silhouettes in the distance. Even if the unfamiliar sound of thunder is… disconcerting. 

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to thunder. At least the thunder in the Dark Cacao Kingdom is quieter, less violent, than the Hollyberry Kingdom’s thunder, which shakes homes and can sometimes be felt in one’s very dough. If Wildberry’s accounts to Crunchy Chip are to be believed, anyway. It wouldn’t surprise me if Crunchy Chip was exaggerating the contents of his letters.

“It’s rabbit jellies, in the pie this time— my grandmother used to make it like that. It’s just… nostalgic,” I explain.

“Rabbit jellies?!” Crunchy Chip asks, his eyes lighting up. I can’t help but smile. He forgot about the thundersnow so quickly…

“The Cream Wolves bring me rabbit jellies all the time! I practically grew up on rabbit jellies and berries,” He continues.

“That’s right— you were raised by the Cream Wolves before you came to the Dark Cacao Kingdom, weren’t you?” I ask.

“Yeah! The Cream Wolves were the first family I ever knew. Always looking after me, even in the harshest of winters!” He says, eyes shining.

“Winters must have been tough,” I reply, nodding.

“They were. But we always made it through! And, in winters, the Cream Wolves would bring me the sweetest things to eat, even if it was, sometimes, a bit bitter,”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I haven’t had anything like it since, but it was so… tasty!”

“Do you know what it was?”

“Not really. I haven’t had anything like it since,” Crunchy Chip shrugs, before hastily putting his hands up as if in surrender and adding, “But I don’t mind! The rations are just as good!”

I blink. I… have no idea what he could be talking about. But dread sits heavy in my stomach, like heavy snow on the branch of a great and old cake log tree. Something doesn’t feel right. Not right at all.

“What did it look like?” I ask, trying to think of what it could be without jumping to the worst possible conclusion.

“A pale ashy brown, sometimes— milk white at other times… Why?”

“Just… trying to see if I know,” I say, choosing my words carefully. 

But, truthfully… I think I know. Wild Cream Wolves are opportunists, and they get… desperate, in winter. It isn’t impossible they’d target frozen, stranded Cookies or the sick in winter. In fact, it’s documented. Every year, we lose warriors still new to their positions to wild wolves when they get stranded in blizzards. And, well… Everything but Cookies in the Dark Cacao Kingdom has a tendency to turn white when they grow in their winter cream coats.

“Do you?!” Crunchy Chip asks, excitement glittering in his eyes. My stomach drops. He truly has… no idea.

“... No,”

I can’t tell him, can I? He didn’t know, and he had to survive… but keeping it from him still feels wrong. Indescribably wrong…

Crunchy Chip tenses at a long rumble of thunder, wind whistling against the window.

“What games did you play with the Cream Wolves, when you were younger?”

I hardly hear his reply. I don’t know how to tell him… or if I should.

***

Dark Cacao is busy. That’s no secret— the king spends his days in meetings, and his crown weighs heavy. He’ll be off to Beast-Yeast, soon, after all… and the kingdom must run smoothly even in his absence. I’ve already delegated my duties, and spend most of my days training and preparing.

I don’t touch my dinner. I was looking forward to it, yes, but watching Crunchy Chip put on a brave face, watching him happily enjoying the minced jelly pie… it makes my stomach churn. I feel like a bad friend for not telling him, but telling him wouldn’t change anything. But he also deserves to know, so what do I do?

I don’t blame him. That’s for sure. He did what he had to do to survive… and he was only six when some Dark Cacao warriors found him. He couldn’t have known. But he hasn’t figured it out yet. And I just… I don’t want him to feel like a monster when he does. He’s my friend, though he might as well be my brother. We grew up together, trained together, and now we serve in the Dark Cacao army, side-by-side, as fellow warriors. He’s no monster.

I let Crunchy Chip take my portion of minced jelly pie with the excuse I have some extra preparations to do. He doesn’t hesitate. He almost never turns down food. I find myself walking the castle halls before the hour is up. Dark Cacao should be finishing his duties soon… but maybe not. He’s been working late into the night since Affogato Cookie fled the kingdom. Even if he’s not looking for the snake.

I sigh, finding myself in front of the throne room anyway. I shouldn’t interrupt Dark Cacao, but… I must. So I open the hefty double doors and enter the throne room, where Dark Cacao is reading a report unfurled from a scroll, expression unreadable. The handwriting is Affogato Cookie’s. It must be an old report.

“Your Majesty,” I say, bowing.

“Ah, Caramel Arrow Cookie. At ease,” He says, and I straighten up.

“I’m sorry for the interruption,” I begin, brows pinching as I try to figure out how to word what I need to say.

“It’s alright. What troubles you so?” He stands, walking over to stand in front of me.

“I just… it’s about Crunchy Chip Cookie,”

“Is he ill?” Dark Cacao asks, eyes and voice sharp. I wince, shaking my head. The Pale Ailment has been ravaging the kingdom, and Dark Cacao has taken the matter personally, visiting the ill and assigning warriors to hospital wards to run errands for the healers.

“No. He’s… faring as well as he can, in the castle,”

“Then what about him?”

“I… need your advice, if you wouldn’t mind giving it,” I begin. Dark Cacao’s shoulders slump as he lets out a sigh, brows furrowed slightly.

“You are welcome to it. You are a loyal warrior, and I am grateful to have you by my side,” Dark Cacao replies, slowly, as if he is choosing his words carefully. He glances back at the scroll. I don’t think he’s over Affogato Cookie’s betrayal… he wholeheartedly put his faith in the slimy bastard, only for Affogato Cookie to stab him in the back.

“Crunchy Chip and I were talking today, and he… mentioned something disturbing. He said, when he was growing up, the Cream Wolves would bring him food… I had him describe it, and I suspect it was… Cookie dough,”

Dark Cacao freezes, eyes wide.

“You think Crunchy Chip Cookie has eaten Cookies?”

“I do, Your Majesty,”

“Caramel Arrow. I trust your judgment, but how can you be sure?”

“He said his wolves brought back something… ashy, or else white, for him to eat during the winter. The only thing I can think of that doesn’t turn white in the winter is Cookies… and I don’t know if I should even tell him,”

“Caramel Arrow… I… don’t know what to say,”

“We both know the habit hasn’t continued, Your Majesty. And he was a young Cookie who needed to survive. I doubt he even knows, considering he sounded almost… nostalgic,” I jump to Crunchy Chip’s defense on instinct. 

Dark Cacao is quiet for a moment. Then another.  I shift my weight between my feet, looking at the ground. 

“Caramel Arrow Cookie,” Dark Cacao begins. My attention snaps to him as he continues, “I think he should be informed of the possibility,”

“Your Majesty? I don’t understand. Telling him wouldn’t change anything but—”

“But keeping it from him would damage his trust in you,” Dark Cacao cuts me off, “I was once in his shoes, when it came to the identity of Dark Enchantress Cookie. I’m sure my old friend, Pure Vanilla Cookie, must have struggled to allow us to share the burden of such knowledge,” Dark Cacao takes a breath, then sighs, shaking his head.

“He always wanted to spare others from harm, even if it meant he would shoulder the weight of all of Earthbread by himself… and telling us Dark Enchantress’s identity would not change reality. And yet… when it was revealed he hesitated to tell us, his friends and allies, I was furious,” Dark Cacao pauses.

“Because it was a breach of my trust. Crunchy Chip Cookie may not take news of your suspicions well, but it will prove his trust in you is not misplaced,” Dark Cacao concludes, hand brushing over his Soul Jam. My heart twists for him… First, the prince attempted to crumble him, and then Affogato Cookie… all for the sake of power.

“I… think I understand, Your Majesty,” I say, nodding. I don’t know how to ease my king’s pain, but… 

“I’ll stand by you, and Crunchy Chip, until the bitter end finds me,” I promise. Dark Cacao offers me a tired smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I know. And it is an honor, to stand beside you as your king,” Dark Cacao says before continuing,

“You are dismissed, Caramel Arrow Cookie,”

***

The next day, I can’t hear anything over the howling wind outside the castle walls. But I know what I need to do. My mind is made up: I need to tell Crunchy Chip. I don’t want to, but… Dark Cacao is right. He’ll be more upset if he figures it out on his own. I don’t even know how to broach the subject, but who would? How do you tell your childhood friend he might be a cannibal?

I walk the castle, eventually finding Crunchy Chip in his room— a room he barely uses, considering he generally prefers to stay up in the mountains rather than down here, so close to the Licorice Sea. I knock on his door.

“Come in!” He calls.

I walk in a bit stiffly. The window is open a crack, facing the mountains, despite the howling wind. It’s bitterly cold inside, and the curtains are damp from the melting snowflakes caught on them. I shut the door behind me.

“Crunchy Chip,” I breathe, walking over to the window and shutting it.

“HEY! Open that window back up!” He protests.

“You’ll catch a cold if I do,” I tell him.

“No I won’t! I’m used to the cold!”

I shake my head, opening the window slightly. We have bigger things to discuss.

“I think we should talk,” I begin, glancing around for a place to sit. My eyes land on his desk chair— an old, worn, gnarled wooden thing that looks unsuitable to hold even half of Crunchy Chip’s weight… but it’s held up this long. So I drag it over to take a seat beside his bed as he sits up, journal in hand. He closes it before he speaks next.

“About what? Are you worried about Beast-Yeast?” He asks.

“I’m not worried about Beast-Yeast, no. King Dark Cacao will be there— there’s no reason for us to be fearful,” I begin. Crunchy Chip’s head is tilted, and he’s leaning forward, like he always does.

“I just… remember what you told me yesterday? About what the Cream Wolves would bring back for you?” I ask.

“Of course I do! How could I forget?!” Crunchy Chip replies, excited. If he had a tail, it would be going a mile a minute. It makes this so much harder to say…

“Well, I think I know what your Cream Wolves were bringing you,”

“YOU DO?! Really?!” He asks, eyes alight with joy. I wince, before answering,

“Yes. I think… they were bringing you Cookie dough,”

The joy vanishes from his features instantly, replaced by shock and repulsion. He’s appalled. I swallow, gripping my knees tight.

“WHAT?! My Cream Wolves would never—”

“Be honest with yourself, Crunchy Chip,” I cut him off, before continuing, “What doesn’t turn white when winter comes? What stays brown, despite the stark white snow?”

Crunchy Chip pauses. A stone of dread sits in my gut while I hold my breath. A look of horror slowly spreads across his face.

“... Cookies,” He replies, breathless, his face turning ashen.

“Cookies,” I quietly confirm. He freezes, the realization knocking the breath from his lungs. I wait for him to reply, but he doesn’t, so I reach out to take his hand. His whole body jerks. And then he’s scrambling backward. Away from me.

“Oh, Witches! What have I done?!” He yells, shaken.

“Crunchy Chip—”

“I ate Cookies! I liked it! What kind of monster—”

“Crunchy Chip!” I say, standing, coming to sit in his bed beside him and take his hand. I’ve never seen him so distressed— not since his first thundersnow, when we were kids who didn’t grasp the danger and lightning hit the ground just a few feet away.

“You’re not a monster,” I say.

“I am!”

“You’re not,”

I take both of his hands in mine as he shakes, lost, his breath stuttery and frantic as he shakes his head.

“You were a child. A child trying to survive in the mountains, alone, with a pack of wolves. You did what you had to do to survive,” I point out.

“But I liked it,” He rasps, eyes wide.

“And now that you know what it was, you’re disgusted. Horrified. That’s not the reaction of a monster,” I point out, not looking away. He’s my brother, and he needs me.

“How can you stand to touch me?” Crunchy Chip rasps. I’ve never heard him so broken, with the exception of when one of his wolves dies.

“Because you’re Crunchy Chip. My brother. Who survived years in mountains that have killed trained warriors, as a child. And I wouldn’t want to imagine a life without my best friend,” I say. 

A sob tears from his throat as he throws his arms around me. I just close my eyes and hold him, despite the tears and spit and snot he’s getting on my clothes. Because I meant what I said. He is my brother, my best friend, and I don’t want to imagine a life without him. I don’t know how long I hold him. I only slip away once he’s fallen asleep, glancing back at him once. We eat dinner together in his room that night, forgoing the mess hall. But he’ll be alright. He has to be. He’s survived worse… and he’s still one of the wolves. 

He’ll always be a wolf.