Filler(?)
In a distant past Dark Cacao cookie had been shown what a future of his could look like, laden within the many outcomes the one that had gripped upon his heart was a soft, content future- A present one. Where he held in his arms a small child with the same dark hair and piercing white streaks. Spangled over them were the remnants of three bursting stars. When his souljam had first found him this was what he was shown along with them many other possibilities of death and despair and hope.
This, would be what he clung to for many of the years aching alongside him in his thousand moments of eternal longing. So the king waited, and finally, he was gifted with his first, and only child. His heir to the throne, and from that day forth, they were known as Dark Choco cookie, the prince of the cacao kingdom. Now, tucked away through insurmountable rifts of snow covering the black citadel so heavily the moon couldn’t shove her eye through, was a king lied alone upon a bed, in a palace that had been empty for now 10 years since the prince's departure. Since a banishment the king had enacted himself. To nurse his bits of anguish to ease he had kept the prince’s room intact, spending one to many nights there that seemed to devolve into violent cries for the other’s return.
He was tired, tired of the weight he endlessly lugged around such as a sin snaking a way around his neck, denser in the forests and the infinite abandoned rooms of his palace. Tired of remembering that witch-damned day when all earthbread seemed to mourn with him. To bear arms against his own son was not what he had wished for, nor to mutilate what would be his only memory of him for the next decade to come.
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When the news of dark choco cookie’s banishment had spread, besides the unsifting fog of mourning over the cacao kingdom, a fleeting moments contempt had revolted in all the ancients. Hollyberry cookie was a strong woman. She liked to think she had helped raise the boy since birth, being a constant presence in his life, the deviation that this sudden revelation had brought to her image of that was unbearable.
She remembered at first, wandering the weather-eroded forests surrounding the kingdom, and when she found nothing, she braced for the worst. Drinking berry juice in copious amounts, she fell like a dud to the floor, waking up with little recollection of what had transpired besides the unsurpassable grief that weighed heavy in her chest. Devastation truly reigned over both her and the other ancients when rumors arose of the (of what she believed to be,) belated prince. She cried madly for days, shouted profanities and drowned herself much deeper in a bitter hatred growing inside her- of her own people, dark cacao, dark choco, and the heart of it all she held herself.
She took what felt to be an eternity to pull herself back together, to finally come to terms with the idea that maybe the young prince wasn’t who she had thought. That sometimes people changed too much to save them, and she dreaded that maybe she herself was falling under that categorization.
She did what she had always done, she fought. She waited. Tried to do better, tried to simply forget about that, and after one too many awkward conversations with pure vanilla cookie, she finally decided that perhaps she could keep a pocket of grief in her heart, and leave the rest open for love. Yet once again, after many years of healing all these scabbed purple wounds, she didn’t expect it to be all ripped apart again, to bare her soul on a platter with no decision but to submit to her charged raging chords, bursting in flames of an immovable body lest she learn to hurt again.
But least of all, did she expect that all this would be at the fault of a damned dragon rider.