Chapter Text
If anyone told Mystic Flour she’d meet her inevitable demise at the hand of an ally, she would’ve allowed that moment to come. But tell her she’d be confined to the Black Citadel for a prolonged period of time? Now that was certainly… something. Not that it mattered, stasis was something she was at peace with no matter the location… but this was different.
Despite her weakened state, Mystic Flour did not resist capture. As gracefully as she accepted her fate, what she did not anticipate was the other beasts doing the same. Eternal Sugar surrendered shortly after she had, tears streaming down her face as she folded her broken wings over herself. Burning Spice put up a fight, viciously taunted their enemy, even after he’d exhausted himself so drastically that his body forced him to remain shackled in place. Silent Salt was the last one that surrendered, kneeled with hands clenched on his sword as he relinquished his freedom.
It’s been a week since then. A long, stagnant week since she’d last seen the other beasts and seen Shadow Milk not in a comatose state. Other than the unease her arrival stirred in the citizens of the Dark Cacao Kingdom, not much has happened since her confinement began.
The Dark Cacao Warriors had been especially cautious of her. Their stiffness, their glances, the whispers they thought she would not hear… it told her one thing: despite keeping her here, they did not trust her.
Considering what she had done to their kingdom, the reaction was expected, predictable, and yet it still perplexed her. All she had done was part of her conclusion of apathy. Her purpose had once been helping those who sought it, yet that conclusion was all she’d found once her cocoon was torn apart. Her actions, their judgement, it was all meaningless in the end… or so she thought.
Despite it all, something had changed. Whether it was formed from the constant chaos of Shadow Milk’s fractured mind or from her days as a virtue remained unknown. But regardless of when or where it started, there was no stopping it now. It was futile to stop it.
Currently, she’s sitting at the furthest corner of the prison she’d been placed in. She didn’t bother to make it comfortable, everything remained as it was since the day she arrived. In short, this place was nothing like her Ivory Pagoda. She knows the beasts, when they were virtues, would've crafted things to say about this place. Describing falling snow with frivolous words and making meaning where none could be found. All except her, of course. Why give meaning to something that’s futile in the end? It didn’t matter then, so it doesn’t matter now.
Feeling nothing better to do, she stares beyond the confinements of her prison, the curtains still delicately fluttering from the cold wind seeping its way inside. She found it peculiar how, despite what she had done to the Dark Cacao Kingdom, Dark Cacao hadn’t locked her in a cellar. She expected it, anticipated it, but Dark Cacao didn’t give her that respite. She hadn’t cared about relief, so why did she find herself longing to feel it? Nothing in this situation was natural or made sense.
A droning footfall of spears echoed outside her room, drawing her attention away from the window. Judging by the shouting voices, the guards must've been the same as the ones who’d wandered her hallway before. They were making a habit of it.
“Why did His Majesty let that beast stay in one of our finest guest rooms and not in a cellar?” One guard scoffed, thumping the spear to the floor shortly after. “His Majesty says it’s a part of some plan of the ancients’. I think it’s… you know.”
“Unwise? Tch, tell me about it. I think having a lurking beast instead of an active one is bad enough. It’s creepy…” The other guard scoffs, their footsteps becoming fainter and fainter until they became but a distant murmur. Pity how they thought she wouldn’t hear them… so why did their words ring in her head? It didn’t matter, it shouldn't matter. It didn't matter, and it— Click.
She flinched at the noise, moving her gaze from the window to the door that was torn asunder. Standing at the edge of her prison with short stature, fluffy cream coils, claws and big orange eyes was Cloud Haetae, their eyes big and wary. “Master?” They spoke quietly, fidgeting with their claws nervously. “Master, I… how are you master? Are you… okay?” Mystic Flour lifted her head, staring at Cloud Haetae dead on. She had seen Cloud Haetae unhappy before, but she’d never seen them this upset.
As much as she wanted to reply, to tell Cloud Haetae that she was fine, that this was meaningless… Yet seeing Cloud Haetae’s expression made her think otherwise. Sighing, she offers her hand. “Come here, Cloud Haetae.” She prompts, watching as Cloud Haetae’s expression shifts. They scamper over without further prompting, immediately hugging her tightly upon arrival. “I’ve missed you, master. I thought… I thought I’d never see you again.” They mumble, their words fizzling out as they nestle into the embrace.
Mystic Flour felt her body calm, her hand moving on autopilot to scratch Cloud Haetae’s ears. They nestle into her touch, their attempts to dilute the sniffles into her hanfu being for naught as they unravel in her arms. It felt strange to be missed… No one missed her when they tore her cocoon open, no one missed her when she was sealed, so why was the exception in Cloud Haetae’s eyes? It didn’t matter then, so it doesn’t matter now… but was that really the truth? Did it really matter now? Cloud Haetae’s sobs seemed to think so, and that was perhaps the most peculiar thing of all.
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It had been some time since Dark Cacao had to sit with his thoughts in his throne room. The last time he sat with his thoughts like this, his son had been exiled from the kingdom. Now he paces for another reason, Mystic Flour’s current situation. The Dark Enchantress War had ended not too long ago, peace finally nestling itself into the world after a hard won battle. That was… before being plunged into another swarm of chaos, of course.
After the dust had settled, the beasts were too exhausted to fight back. There was no option other than to openly surrender.
Now, the beast of apathy was in his kingdom, housed in the finest guest room since her arrival. The people of his kingdom and his warriors had been tense, the warriors keeping guard by pacing the hallways of her chambers. Cloud Haetae had refused to leave her side and ended up coming with him back to the kingdom.
At first, Pure Vanilla’s proposal felt outlandish. Rehabilitation for the very beasts that tried to destroy the world as they knew it. If this happened at a different time, Dark Cacao would’ve crumbled the beast where she stood. He would’ve never allowed Pure Vanilla’s proposal of rehabilitation to go forth, lest he bring the one who nearly reduced his people to flour. But as he was about to be fully against the idea, something had shifted. It wasn’t spoken words or visible actions, but a singular gaze; Mystic Flour’s gaze. When Dark Cacao looked at her, he saw a mirror.
This was not the same Mystic Flour he’d once crossed paths with in her Ivory Pagoda. He knew that gaze, he’d seen it in his own face, on his son’s face. The feeling of having one’s resolution challenged and the possibility of it being more than one realized. All of it was in Mystic Flour’s gaze. Whether she verbalized it or not was beside the point. The fact it was there, and that he could see it, meant something more than words could describe. Suddenly, he was willing to accept that Pure Vanilla’s proposal was actually plausible.
As he paced further, he couldn’t help but reflect further on that day, his cape stubbornly keeping pace as it billowed behind him. He paced until his feet ached, forcing him to take a breath as he leaned against his throne. He stared at his hands, balling them into fists before looking at his sword that was propped against his throne.
He reaches for his sword, catching his reflection in the souljam embedded on the hilt of the blade. He thought back to what he went through after clashing blades with his son. That day, looking back now, was a raging, blistering storm, thunder crying out the moment he claimed “you are no son of mine.” Dark Cacao will never forget the look on his son’s face, a realization dawning as he plummeted off the castle wall. If he had the chance to go back, to quell the storm he’d caused… he would’ve apologized sooner, taken back what he said sooner. He would have taught his son the reason to wield the blade and not just how to wield it. The love and determination of a son instead of the willpower and steel-heartedness of a warrior.
No matter much he wanted it, the pain could not be undone. But knowing what he knows now? He will do his hardest to rekindle their relationship. He just hopes he can apply what he’s learned to Mystic Flour’s situation as well. While Dark Cacao had never been great with words- and abysmal at comfort- he knows there’s one thing that never changed. Once he sets his mind to something, it’s hard to steer him off it.
He feels a gust of wind pass by, looking up briefly to see a letter beside his throne. Right, Caramel Arrow had brought that in earlier after Cloud Haetae left to check on their master… Drawing out his breath, he sets down his blade. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” He spoke aloud, not directed at anyone in particular as he picked up the letter. “I pray your plan isn’t for naught, my friend.”