Chapter Text
Vanilla is not the first scent Shadow Milk wanted to wake to.
The air was sickening, waffle cones everywhere – not to mention the blinding light flickering through the cream curtains. His bed sat in the sat in the corner farthest from the door, meaning the light was relentlessly burning his eyes. He growled, pulling the covers over his head, tossing and turning impatiently for a while to no avail. He eventually ripped them back off himself in full and yanked the curtains closed, flicking his cane to darken them entirely.
Every puny, scant touch of light attempting to brighten the room was snuffed out and plunged him into the darkness.
The room was far too neat for his liking, so he continued his adjustments in quick succession; shattering the vases of repulsive flowers, breaking the chair Pure Vanilla had sat on when he brought Shadow Milk here, tearing the wallpaper off and replacing it with twisting blues, shattering the elegantly hanging chandelier overhead.
Much better.
At least his bed was already good. Shadow Milk glanced over. It fit a lot better now. It looked all too similar to the one in his spire, almost amusingly so.
The bedframe a milky white, a plush blue blanket wrinkled across the floor from where he had discarded it earlier. A soft, fluff rug sat below, water seeping in and leaving it soggy, like a wet cake hound. Shadow Milk grimaced.
Okay, maybe he should have gone a little easier.
Then, there were the decorations of him. Glorious, handsome, perfect. Not a beast. More admirable, the Master of Deceit, the Teller of Lies.
Yet, the looming presence of a certain cookie ravaged in his mind and stole all of that, his achievements, his followers, his devotion, all burned out and trampled by a thief.
The fleeting feeling of delightfully indulging pleasure succumbed to a tightening feeling in his chest. This place was his new prison. Everything crumbled.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A staff echoed in the halls outside his door. Two knocks came. Shadow Milk’s answer did not.
Another knock, more cautious.
“May I come in?”
Shadow Milk’s breath hitched and slowly came heavier – panting almost. Out of breath. Gulping in the air. Closing his eyes, unwilling. His body hurt, ached, burned. Light would stubbornly break through his illusion and engulf him once more.
He hated it.
The way Pure Vanilla reached his hand out with open arms, calling out Shadow Milk’s name familiarly and attempting to smooth over the furrowing sense of impenitence growing deeper and deeper. A perfect being of Shadow Milk’s own design overcome with an overflowing sense of hope and connection to the path he had long since strayed from himself. Just another failure. Another betrayal.
He curled in on himself in the air, cradling his knees to his chest and comforting himself.
Not ready. Not ready.
The door creaked open and he snapped his head around, his bright mismatched eyes being the only light aside from the one peeking through from the hallway and a staff.
Shadow Milk’s neck cracked.
Pure Vanilla paused his steps. They stared at each other for a moment, then he reluctantly closed the door again. He squinted in the darkness and stepped forward cautiously, getting closer and stumbling over some of the wreckage. The grip on his staff tightened as he steadied himself, swinging it side to side to make out his surroundings. His eyes glanced towards where the chair had been broken into pieces.
“My...” Pure Vanilla took a breath inwardly, trying to gauge the state of the room.
Shadow Milk guessed he could only make out blurs or color if anything. A small smile inched its way onto his placid face. At least there was that.
Snippets of glee knowing his soul jam’s thief was lacking in some way.
Pure Vanilla sighed and finally managed to make his way over – not without winces of pain here and there from accidentally stepping on the shards of discarded ceramic vases. He even picked up each flower on the way here as though he could save them.
Acting like he could save everyone.
Tsk. Another thing to hate.
“Shadow Milk,” he started softly, too soothingly, “You do not have to come out, nor will I force you to remain in this room. But...” He tried to get closer so they could be face to face, but Shadow Milk immediately turned away and floated higher out of his repugnant grasp.
Pure Vanilla sighed. “I know you do not wish to remain stuck in here forever. I’ll be here when you are ready.”
Ready, huh?
Since when did it matter if he was ready?
Not when the witches thrust this overbearing weight into his hands. Not when he fell from grace. Not when all the cookies pointed accusatory fingers at him, clamoring around the desk and demanding satisfaction. Perfection.
The room was cold and the darkness enveloped them. Nothing more than their stark breathing. He could feel the phantom shackles bearing down on him, leaving him alone with a searing pain that could not be soothed with gentle words. Licking his own wounds in shame.
Shadow Milk steeled himself. A sickeningly sweet sing-song voice peeled out, “Well, aren’t you just so generous?” The words were blunt; a tasteless, sarcastic taunt. He straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest, keeping his back to Pure Vanilla. He did not want to speak to or see Pure Vanilla. But, he was oh-so effortlessly stubborn and went out of his way to make sure to get on Shadow Milk’s nerves. “You couldn’t even bother preparing my room how I’d like it? Oh, so rude! I had even made yours so much like home in my spire.”
He turned over to look at Pure Vanilla, leaning down with a wide grin, closing the distance in an instant. “But you couldn’t be bothered!”
Pure Vanilla didn’t move but his eyes were wide, staring up at Shadow Milk with an indiscernible expression. Shadow Milk jabbed his cane forward and lifted Pure Vanilla by the back of his cloak, dangling him helplessly and narrowing his eyes.
If he wanted to, he could carry Pure Vanilla up to the rooftops and drop him off. He could watch the fear flickering in his eyes as he grasped at empty air and crumbled in front of everyone. Shadow Milk would pick up all the pieces and put him back together over and over and over, replaying that scene as many times as he liked.
Giggles were pouring out of him before he realized it, holding his stomach and doubling over himself delightfully. It felt good.
Oh. That would be wonderful.
Shadow Milk took a few breaths and caught himself as the slews of laughter died out in exchange for an immediate frown. Pure Vanilla had a small smile on his face. He was reaching out with one hand. Shadow Milk slapped it away and dropped him, earning a little yelp. Pure Vanilla rubbed the side that hit the floor, his gaze never once leaving Shadow Milk’s own. Not even as one eye closed to wince in pain.
It made Shadow Milk’s rage bubble up again, itching its way up his limbs and burning his head with fury.
“I apologize. I did not properly consider your feelings. It seems you have already made... adjustments yourself.” Pure Vanilla’s brows dropped into an expression of concern.
Shadow Milk scoffed, “It looks much better, don’t you think? Your taste sucks. Do you have anything that isn't waffle cones or vanilla?”
Pure Vanilla shook his head, much to Shadow Milk’s dismay.
“Seriously? I know it’s the... air quotes Vanilla Kingdom, but come on.” He rolled over with a dramatic sigh. “So boring. You’re so boring, Nilly.”
Pure Vanilla chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Yes, that may be true. Perhaps you could help me redecorate the castle sometime.”
Shadow Milk perked up. “Oh? I didn’t know you were open to suggestion. In that case...” With a tap of his cane on Pure Vanilla’s head, his robes faded into black and golds. Pure Vanilla frowned.
“I said the castle, not me.”
Shadow Milk gave him an innocent swing of his body, patting Pure Vanilla’s head then placing his hands behind his back. “Oh no, oh gosh, I made such a silly little mistake then. I thought this was your castle.” Shadow Milk grinned toothily at him and sarcastically added with a sharp glare, “Must have gotten that part mixed up.”
A twitch of Pure Vanilla's brow gave Shadow Milk a sense of satisfaction as he praised himself for the good work. Shadow Milk lowered himself to float more level with Pure Vanilla, rolling his eyes. Clearly he didn’t have a very good sense of humor.
Shadow Milk liked it better though, so he wasn’t going to give in to the obvious discontented expression plaguing Pure Vanilla’s face. This way, he resembled Truthless Recluse more closely, aside from the long hair that was dragging on the floor. And that hopeful glimmer in his eyes.
Ugh. Disgusting.
Shadow Milk wanted to forget. Forget it all. The memories constantly flashing in his mind every time Pure Vanilla got a little too close.
Pure Vanilla hummed, looking for a place to settle himself in the room. It was obvious that he was intending on staying here, so Shadow Milk made it a point to slam the door open abruptly, startling Pure Vanilla enough that his gaze finally snapped elsewhere. Watching him tense up at the sound tickled Shadow Milk, even if it meant there was light pouring into his carefully crafted safehaven.
He leaned down by Pure Vanilla’s side and loudly made his point clear. “Get out.
Twiddling thumbs in an illusionary world was appeasing, but boring.
Shadow Milk wasn’t exactly intentionally hiding per say. Rather, the world of his own creation simply had been oh-so beckoningly calling in a way that was far more appealing than the reality he was stuck with right now. At least he could conjure up magic of his own audience to laugh at the endless jokes constantly flowing through his head.
They all loved him, cheering and chiming up to ask him for one last performance before the night ended. He danced across the stage of blue checkered triangles, twirling his cane with exhilarating theatrical movements and putting his entire heart into the consolidated thrill in every step he took. Relishing in the ongoing showers of praise.
It felt good to be adored.
It was fun – for a while. He thought it was endless, but the mumbled laughter of his studio audience faded into background noise for the buzzing sensation filling his ears. Jeering, not at his jokes; at him. They all thought he was a fool swinging his arms senselessly on the stage that only he could stand on. A stage built on delusions.
Nobody came to see him preform anymore.
To Shadow Milk’s credit, he was persistent despite the obvious growing knot in his stomach that made his body feel numb and empty. Days passed by as he continued on with the pointless gesture.
Laughs turned to hysteria; Hysteria turned to tears; Tears turned to silence.
Shadow Milk’s body grew tired and his once grandeur show came to a slow. The cold embrace of shadows did not comfort him. An aching chill bit away, gnawing the splotches of warmth away from his grasp and throwing him into the endless abyss of nothingness. Isolated and alone. No sound but his own taunting, shallow breaths. Frustrating, pitiful. Longing for something more.
Floating aimlessly farther into his own world.
There was a dull shadow glazing over his eyes. Dark circles creased under the lower half and it was apparent that he had worn himself thin.
Being in that tree for so long had taken its toll on him. He knew that deep down, though he would never admit it out loud.
Reluctantly, Shadow Milk pulled the curtains and exited his world to enter the real one.
It was time to face reality.
Behind the fluttering black fabric, the sun threatened to sting his eyes and he squinted, covering them partially with his hand and turned away with a sharp hiss. To his surprise, the room was entirely how he left it however many days ago. No sign of Pure Vanilla. The only difference was a scent of eyed laceflowers replacing the original waffle-ish vanilla.
Peculiar.
Shadow Milk skimmed the room for the offending plant, lifting his head slightly to sniff at the air, but coming up empty handed. The smell was lingering and vague, no real telling factors.
Oddly... specific.
No complaints, but odd.
The gentle draft against his dough grounded him somewhat. Fresh air felt nice. The initial aversion of the outside world was subsiding and he stretched out like a cat, an audible cracking sound as he arched his back.
It must have been bordering the edges of dawn because Shadow Milk soon heard the faint echoing of a staff tapping away. For some reason – none in particular – his lazy floating drifted in that direction. The hallways were decorated with portraits of the Pure Vanilla himself in varying ways. Intricate tapestries depicted the Vanilla Kingdom’s glories, founding, history... all rather painstakingly boring to the eye.
Shadow Milk made it a point to reach his arm out and knock over everything in sight. He felt rather pleased with his own work, though too tired to muster a cheeky grin.
As he got closer, he saw the light beige robes draped over the exact cookie he was looking for, chattering away as a smaller one escorted him. She looked rather... unamused by his attempting conversation.
Pitiful.
A delightfully frightened squeal graced his ears when he found himself trailing slightly behind Pure Vanilla. The servant looked up with startled eyes until Pure Vanilla waved a hand to dismiss her.
He didn’t make it a point to make conversation with Shadow Milk and Shadow Milk didn’t complain. Silence wasn’t particularly his forte, but he didn’t have the energy for toying right now. Especially not for Pure Vanilla.
A few glances and soft smiles were cast back here and there, not much more than that. The day went on as what he assumed was the usual for Pure Vanilla. Aside from... one thing. Each time they turned a hall, cookies gasped and quickly scattered out of the way mid-conversation when Shadow Milk grimly bared his teeth at them. It took little effort to send small cookies scampering on their way, a soft sigh with a concerned touch following after them.
No verbal complaints, but definitely an implied one.
Shadow Milk’s tired attitude was quickly plucked and casted away in exchange for entertained giggles, twirling around Pure Vanilla to look for the next oblivious servant hurrying their way down.
Perhaps... there were some better aspects to the Vanilla Kingdom. That being, he couldn’t terrorize his only two followers and get any ounce of enjoyment from watching their only reactions being that of praise.
“Oh, Lord Shadow Milk Cookie, you are too talented!”
“Master Shadow Milk Cookie, your lies are only the sweetest!”
Boring. Plain. Heard it before. A thousand times before.
Pure Vanilla’s voice came gently, so soft that he almost didn’t hear it. “Yes, yes, I am aware, but Shadow Milk will be in attendance whether his presence is welcome or not.” A long, drawn out sigh. “I do not wish to disrespect the elders, but it is my own say that stands.”
Shadow Milk trailed down to the exasperated cookie frantically trying to reason with Pure Vanilla. He gave a yelp at the sight of Shadow Milk’s pouring darkness off his body and bowed, murmuring a few prayed apologies before removing himself from the consequential scene.
As soon as Pure Vanilla pushed the doors open, all eyes were on him, all judgmental.
“Why I never- Pure Vanilla Cookie!”
“Shameful, shameful...”
The voices died down as he politely walked over to take his own seat at the head of the table with Shadow Milk hovering after him.
Captain Caviar Cookie and Oyster Cookie traded unhappy glances and Vanilla Sugar Cookie sneered. “You have some nerve,” she nodded towards Shadow Milk, “bringing that beast in here, Pure Vanilla Cookie.”
Pure Vanilla’s eyes were shut in thought, languidly replying, “My apologies. The circumstances require my attention and I hope you will excuse his presence. Any disturbances he causes, I will accept the consequences.”
Vanilla Sugar Cookie reeled back in offense, “You must have lost your mind! Have you no sense of protection in your own kingdom?”
“This is not the cause of concern.” Pure Vanilla folded his hands over his lap. “Should there be a reasonable explanation for why he is unwelcome in a civilized discussion...” Vanilla Sugar Cookie opened her mouth to speak and he quickly added, “Aside from being a beast, I will happily comply.”
She closed her mouth again, burning with fury, but unable to interject.
Oyster Cookie smiled willingly and spoke with ease, “Pure Vanilla Cookie, as our host, your reasoning is understandable, but barely justifiable at most.”
“Oh?” Pure Vanilla tilted his head.
“Certainly. It is only a basic discussion, but...” she raised a hand in Shadow Milk’s direction, earning a toothy frown, “the risks outweigh the benefits. It is not as though he cannot tolerate your lack of presence for a short time, is it?” She perked a brow.
Pure Vanilla returned calmly, “Yes, this is true. My insistence is not without cause, though. My guest finds the idea of being without company at this time to be... unsatisfactory.”
“And why must it be you in particular?” Swift and sharp.
Shadow Milk cast a curious glance over. Not bad.
“The servants in my kingdom cannot bear the weight of looking after someone with such power on their own,” Pure Vanilla gives a soft pat to Shadow Milk’s shoulder. “Thus, the duty falls upon me, naturally.”
Shadow Milk eyed him impatiently, disliking how needy he is being proposed to be. Pure Vanilla was acting as though he had been clinging to his arm and that was upsetting. He wasn’t needy. Pure Vanilla was needy.
One flick of his cane and the room was abruptly taken into the darkness. There, an echoing feeling of burning rises from deep within, voice far too shallow for his own liking.
“If,” Shadow Milk simmers, drowning out all other sounds, “one more... measly little peep jitters from your soft, fragile, doughy bodies, I’ll squeeze...” Shadow Milk’s rumbles are growing more unsteady and hot, every word slowly snaking off his tongue. “And squeeze... and squeeze... until you pop into sweet crumbles seeping from my hands.”
The desire to do so now was an unquenchable thirst drying up Shadow Milk’s throat. Cocky, arrogant gnats hung by puppet strings, pulled along helplessly as they are torn apart. He could almost taste it.
All eyes were darting around the room and adjusting to their surroundings, shrieking and squirming to avoid the rattling coming from the floor below.
“Alright, that’s enough.”
Pure Vanilla cut through the chaos, illuminating the room with his staff as Shadow Milk shrinks back to size, a detestable scowl baked onto his face.
“As you can see,” Pure Vanilla politely says, “my attention is required.”
Shadow Milk’s expression twisted further into a disgusted glower in Pure Vanilla’s direction. An ugly pulse radiated through his soul jam and he reeled away.
Shadow Milk absolutely did not need Pure Vanilla to babysit him. He was beyond capable of handling himself, pushing the thought deep down into the pits of his mind. No reason to dwell on it. Perhaps he could... use this to his advantage. Embarrassing Pure Vanilla in front of everyone wasn’t too bad of an idea.
But would Pure Vanilla be embarrassed?
It was more ideal to target the Ancients for that. Hmm. That’s a thought. If it spread that Pure Vanilla was cozying up with a Beast, there would be plenty of scandals sure to reach the ears of his self acclaimed “closest friends.”
But he didn’t want to put himself in jeopardy and tarnish his own reputation in the process. It shouldn’t look like Shadow Milk was helplessly enamored with Pure Vanilla. The other way around should work best.
Shadow Milk could... push a little.
A sly grin flicked across his face. “Oh you, silly, silly. I think you’ve got your head all jumbled up!” Shadow Milk flicked his forehead teasingly, “If I needed a weak old man like you to look after me, you’d think I would’ve been...” The words “sealed away” got stuck in his throat and he couldn’t bring himself to say them, so he skipped over that part begrudgingly.
Pure Vanilla opened his eyes again, annoyingly, smiling up at Shadow Milk. “That is true. In this case, would you prefer not to sit in?”
Shadow Milk gave him an incredulous look.
Also annoyingly, Shadow Milk ended up staying.