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“Your radiance?”
Pure Vanilla perks up. Oh, Witches — he had almost forgotten he had company.
The blonde healer turns over his shoulder, struggling somewhat given the thick, furry overcoat he’s dressed in, and smiles at his companion. A young cookie, sharp-eyed and attentive. Pure Vanilla believes his name was Crunchy Chip. It’s not the first time he’s seen him. Back then, when he first met his friends again after so many years — when Clotted Cream had visited, right before their venture to the Cream Republic — he was one of the young ambassadors sent along with their Soul Jam.
Pure Vanilla smiles, his breath leaving behind a little cloud of condensation as he turns around to face the young Cookie sitting atop that huge Cream Wolf of his.
“Yes? Is there something the matter, my friend?” Pure Vanilla hums, his long lashes fluttering as he feels the cold bite of a breeze pulling at his exposed fingers. He hisses slightly, sucking in a breath through his teeth, and moves to tuck himself further into his clothing, shifting his long white and golden sleeves farther down his arms to hide his hands.
He is no stranger to the Frozen Cliffs’ weather. He has visited often throughout the years — admittedly not as often as White Lily had, but still. One would assume he would have grown used to the icy cold, to snowflakes leaving wet spots behind on his robes and the biting wind nipping at every bit of exposed skin.
The Dark Cacao Kingdom is harsh to its inhabitants. Pure Vanilla thinks of that often. Hard winters, the constant danger posed by the inky pits of the Licorice Sea, as well as feral beasts roaming the lands.
And yet, its inhabitants — the Cacaoans — prevail. Thrive, even. It never ceases to amaze him just how capable Cookies are, how strong and resilient they can be if led properly, if provided for.
Pure Vanilla smiles at the thought, just for a moment.
It takes a strong, resolute Cookie to let a nation thrive in lands this harsh and unforgiving. And truly, he could never imagine anyone else doing so but his friend.
Perhaps he is a bit stubborn too, yes — but that’s a given at their age.
Pure Vanilla giggles softly to himself at the irony of it. Yes, yes. One does not become an ancient hero, a king, a queen, a leader, without being stubborn as a mule. That is one trait all his friends share.
Yet… there’s more to that stoic king of the Frozen Hills. Pure Vanilla always knew there was more hiding behind those well-guarded walls.
A soft core — one that cares. For everyone. His people. His family. His friends. His love for Cookiekind, for those who look up to him, runs deep with unwavering loyalty.
That wonderful trait is what made Pure Vanilla fall for Dark Cacao in the first place.
It had happened years ago, back when they were still young Cookies roaming the lands as adventurers, far away from all the trials and tribulations they would one day face. Just them, traveling together as a group, protecting those who could not protect themselves.
It was a cold night, much like tonight, around the same time of year — Christmas Eve, to be exact. But none of them had cared about the cold. Not when they had each other, freshly brewed warm apple punch, and a fire burning mightily nearby.
“I still do not entirely understand what a piece of mistletoe has to do with that seasonal celebration of yours,” Dark Cacao had grumbled, his brows drawn low in confusion as he raised the steaming cup of punch to his lips. “It’s a medicinal plant at best.”
Hollyberry laughed, and White Lily joined in — her laughter much more timid in comparison. Nonetheless, the sparkle in her maroon eyes betrayed her demure exterior.
“Oh, Dark Cacao, your close-mindedness truly amazes me sometimes,” Hollyberry teased, her pink eyes sparkling as her lips twisted into a mischievous smirk. She was just about to berate the Cacaoan swordsman further, but Golden Cheese was faster.
“Pah! I agree with Dark Cacao! It’s such an unflashy plant. Hardly worthy of— what exactly again?” she asked, turning toward White Lily for help as she leaned against Hollyberry, her cup sloshing slightly with the exaggerated movement.
“It’s usually hung above doorways. And—” White Lily began, only to be cut off.
“-Aaand if two people walk under it at the same time, they are required to share a kiss!” Hollyberry declared, smirking. Her cheeks and nose were warm from both the punch and the cold air. She elbowed Golden Cheese playfully and wiggled her eyebrows. “Romantic, is it not, Goldie?”
“I would not consider kissing someone underneath a bundle of weeds particularly romantic.”
“Oh, but it’s tradition in my home! And in Pure Vanilla’s as well! Right, ‘Nilla?” Hollyberry turned toward the blonde sitting across from her.
But the healer did not respond.
He sat there, idly sipping his punch. If one didn’t know better, they’d assume he was simply enjoying the drink in silence. But Hollyberry knew him far too well.
The staff’s eye had always been a dead giveaway, easily betraying any demure act or hidden glances the usually soft-hearted healer tried to conceal. And right now, the staff’s large, catlike eye was trained on Dark Cacao, who silently watched the embers before him consume the firewood.
The soft blush spreading across Pure Vanilla’s cheeks did little to help his case. Hollyberry resisted the urge to comment, deciding to be merciful for the evening and spare him the embarrassment on such a festive night.
“Pure Vanilla…?” she tried again, a bit louder.
White Lily, seated beside him, noticed now as well. She smiled softly and gently tapped his shoulder. The blonde startled, shoulders tensing as he was pulled from his daydream.
“Ah— yes— sorry. I was…” Pure Vanilla began, his gaze lingering on Dark Cacao for just a moment before snapping back to Hollyberry, cheeks warm with the knowledge he’d been caught. “…Distracted.”
“You truly are a daydreamer, aren’t you, ‘Nilla?” Golden Cheese teased.
Hollyberry’s smile softened. Watching Pure Vanilla pine in silence never failed to warm her heart — quite adorable, really.
“Mistletoes are a common holiday tradition where you’re from as well, no?” Hollyberry pressed.
Pure Vanilla nodded quickly. “Yes, yes. It’s very closely guarded there too… I know many people who…enjoy it…” He trailed off as he felt Dark Cacao’s gaze settle on him.
Witches, normally he wasn’t this timid around his friends. He had been pining after his dark-haired companion for some time now, yes, but usually Pure Vanilla was so good at swallowing those unrequited feelings. Why was it so difficult tonight?
Dark Cacao grumbled again, softer this time. Almost reverent.
“I see… My home does not hold traditions that… frivolous—”
“Frivolous?!” Golden Cheese interrupted. “Oh Witches, Cao, you sound ancient! You truly need to learn how to live a little!”
Hollyberry cackled, quick to join in.
White Lily smiled quietly as Dark Cacao’s cheeks warmed in embarrassment. He tugged his scarf higher, brows furrowed. “It’s not that… it’s just… what if the person beneath the mistletoe isn’t someone you’d want to kiss? It feels wrong. I—”
He faltered, feeling everyone’s eyes on him.
Pure Vanilla burned the brightest, the eye of his staff wide and unblinking, posture rigid, lips parted in surprise.
“I just think,” Dark Cacao continued, shrinking in on himself, “that sharing something as intimate as a kiss with someone you do not love would be wrong…”
The laughter carried on long into the night.
Everyone except Pure Vanilla.
He remained quiet for the rest of the evening, gaze softened, cheeks warm — but not from the punch or the cold wind.
No. Because he made a vow that night.
He would share his first kiss beneath mistletoe with the person he loved most.
Pure Vanilla blinks as he feels a gentle pressure on his shoulder. It’s barely noticeable through the thick, borrowed Cacaoan overcoat.
“Your radiance… are you okay? You weren’t responding,” Crunchy Chip says carefully.
He has dismounted his Cream Wolf and now stands at Pure Vanilla’s side. Only now does it strike the healer just how small the rider truly is — barely his height. Still, Pure Vanilla would never underestimate someone based on appearances alone.
The Cream Wolf whines softly and steps forward, ears laid flat.
Adorable, Pure Vanilla thinks, smiling. A soft blush warms his cheeks as he frees one hand from his staff and gently pets the wolf’s snout.
“Oh yes, I am fine, Crunchy Chip. I merely got lost in thought,” Pure Vanilla hums. His long blond hair shifts over his shoulders as he turns toward him, tilting his head inquisitively. “You were saying…?”
Crunchy Chip nods, swallowing as he searches for the right words. He would never wish to cause discomfort to the Pure Vanilla, bearer of the Soul Jams of Truth and Deceit.
“It’s just— if you don’t mind me asking,” he begins hesitantly as they resume walking side by side. “What exactly do you need this plant for? Is it for medicinal purposes?”
Ah. Right. That is what they were doing out here.
Ever since the Beasts had been vanquished and Dark Enchantress Cookie defeated, he and his friends had returned to something akin to peace — something none of them had felt in years.
Surely it would not be the last hurdle they would face, but at last, they could do it once more. Together. As the same group of heroes they once were.
Still — this newfound peace had granted them time to catch up on what had been lost. Years spent alone, suffering in silence, believing their friends had perished. It came as no surprise, then, that every so often — if not through letters — Pure Vanilla now visited his friends in person. Since he was no longer a king, no longer a ruler of the former Vanilla Kingdom, he had time to travel. Time to return to places he had not seen in so long.
He had shared sweet berry juice with Hollyberry, admired Golden Cheese’s tireless efforts to rebuild her kingdom, wandered the endless libraries of the Faerie Kingdom with White Lily.
And now, he was here.
The irony of visiting Dark Cacao at this time of year is not lost on him. A celebration of love and comfort, of giving and receiving.
It is Christmas Eve once more. And after all this time, Pure Vanilla had decided he could no longer bear his feelings alone.
Too much had happened. Too many times had he stared into the abyss, brushed against despair and corruption. And through it all, one thought had remained.
I do not want to crumble. Not without telling him.
It is the thought that had carried him forward for so long.
He needed Dark Cacao to know. And he decided it had to be today.
The way Dark Cacao had smiled at him earlier — still small, still reserved — but by the witches, it had been as warm as a summer day. Warm enough to make Pure Vanilla forget the freezing cold he had traveled through just to reach him.
Dark Cacao had changed since his battle with the Beast of Apathy.
He was still stubborn. Still stoic. Still a resolute leader who cared far too much about others and far too little about himself. But something about him felt lighter now. His Soul Jam felt lighter.
Pure Vanilla had nearly cried the first time he saw him again, before their battle against Dark Enchantress — after they had each faced the Beasts alone, in their own ways.
Cacao felt like someone new.
And still, unmistakably, like the man Pure Vanilla had fallen in love with all those years ago.
And today — when Dark Cacao had taken him into his arms. Such a foreign gesture for the Dragon Lord. When Dark Cacao had told Pure Vailla how glad he was to see him, warmth threading through his voice.
With that smile. That lightness.
Pure Vanilla had decided that today would be the day.
He would finally honor the vow he made on that cold, beautiful night.
Pure Vanilla smiles at Crunchy Chip’s question and traces the golden metal of his staff absentmindedly with the pad of his thumb.
“Ah, it is just— there is a festive tradition from my homeland that I wished to share with Dark Cacao this evening,” he admits softly. “And for that, I do require mistletoe…”
Crunchy Chip nods, listening intently. He may not understand what sort of tradition would require such a plant, especially in the context of a holiday he has never heard of, but he does not question it. He had been tasked personally by his King to escort Pure Vanilla wherever he wished to go once he left the Citadel, and he intends to fulfill that duty. He huffs softly before offering Pure Vanilla a bright, toothy smile.
“Understood! I shall give it my best!”
Pure Vanilla laughs gently at the young soldier’s enthusiasm and nods. Cream Wolf joins them with a cheerful bark, tail wagging eagerly.
Dark Cacao’s eyes lower as he gently lays the piece of parchment back onto the table of his study. Opposite him sit his advisors — three of them — waiting with bated breath for their King’s response after he finishes reading the document they had prepared.
“My liege…” the first begins. The young Cookie swallows, searching for the right words beneath the weight of their Dragon Lord’s silence. Her uncovered eye darts briefly toward her brother before returning to Cacao.
“We took the liberty of assembling the necessary preparations and documentation so the transfer of supplies to the Milk Tribe can proceed as planned tomorrow.”
Her brother picks up where she leaves off.
“We do hope it is to your liking. We took previous documentation of similar supply deliveries from around this time into account.”
The third advisor — an older Cookie with a thick beard and hair streaked dark brown and white — hums in agreement and nods.
“If there is anything missing, we will not hesitate to amend the list. Simply tell us, and we will see it done.”
Dark Cacao listens until the last of them has finished speaking. His gaze is strong — iron, but not cold. The warmth of the hearth nearby reflects softly in his deep violet eyes as, at last, he offers them a small but appreciative smile.
He bows his head. The gesture is quickly returned.
“It is flawless,” Dark Cacao says evenly. “As expected. I would merely ask that the goods Pure Vanilla has brought be evenly distributed among the tribe members. Tomorrow is important to the Milk Tribe — though foreign to us here in the Frozen Cliffs. Nonetheless, my friend Pure Vanilla’s generosity should not be in vain.”
His request is met with a unanimous, respectful, “Yes, my liege.”
Dark Cacao exhales quietly, fighting the urge to let his cheeks warm.
Pure Vanilla had not visited in so long.
He had been busy — tending to his own kingdom, teaching young Cookies magic, tirelessly working to strengthen ties with the Cream Republic, visiting their other friends. Still, letters had come often, written on fragrant vanilla-scented paper and delivered by shivering bluebirds.
Little stories of his daily life. What he had been doing. What their friends had been up to.
It felt personal. Close. Domestic, even.
Cacao tries to banish the thought. It would not be fair to mistake Pure Vanilla’s kindness for something more. He is kind to everyone — friends, subjects, animals alike.
And yet… a small part of him hopes.
Hopes that the little hearts Pure Vanilla doodled at the ends of his letters, the thoughtful gifts he sent, and his decision to visit now, at this time of year, meant something more than simple kindness. The Dark Cacao Kingdom does not celebrate Christmas Eve — that is what Hollyberry had called it — but Cacao knows it means a great deal to Pure Vanilla. That much was clear in the excitement of his letters, announcing his visit and the presents he had prepared for the Milk Tribe, the Coffee Tribe, and the Cacaoan citizens.
The Milk Tribe especially. Though only loosely related to the Vanillians, they still hold onto old traditions. It felt only right that Pure Vanilla would honor them. He had worked tirelessly for weeks with White Lily, drawing on her near-infinite knowledge of magic and botany. Together, they had created special vanillia-orchid flower pods, resilient enough to survive the harsh cold of the Frozen Cliffs.
A gift to the Cacaoans. A gesture of alliance. Of friendship. Of gratitude. A little taste of sweetness meant to linger even after Pure Vanilla departed.
It was so very him.
A soft knock against the wooden frame of the sliding door interrupts Dark Cacao’s thoughts. For a moment, he does not respond — simply turns his head toward the sound, as though grounding himself back in the present. His advisors follow his gaze, straightening instinctively. “Yes?” he says, his tone even as he watches the door slide open slowly. And then, slowly, a head peeks in.
Long, soft blonde curls peek into the room as Pure Vanilla steps halfway inside, his eyes slightly opened — misty, dulled, light blue and pastel yellow, unfocused, but still just as lovely. “Ah— I hope I am not interrupting anything—” Pure Vanilla begins sheepishly as he stops mid-step, his long white garments flowing as he moves to readjust his staff behind his back. Only now does Dark Cacao notice that the blonde healer is not using it to see, as he usually does. The staff now lacks that familiar catlike eye, replaced instead with a glowing golden sphere.
Still — it aids Pure Vanilla in seeing. Why would he hide it?
It does not matter. Dark Cacao does not dwell on it. Instead, he shakes his head softly, gesturing for his advisors to stand as well. “We had just finished up preparations for the next supply delivery to the Milk Tribe. That is all,” Cacao hums. His advisors bow to him unanimously and perfectly in sync before quickly moving out of the study — but not before stopping in front of Pure Vanilla to offer the man a low bow as well.
The sliding door snaps shut behind them, and Pure Vanilla swallows heavily.
This is it. There is no turning back now.
His cheeks warm slightly, but Pure Vanilla hides it behind his usual soft smile. His bare feet pad across the polished floorboards as he makes his way toward Dark Cacao with a small giggle. “Oh— how wonderful! I can hardly wait to visit them tomorrow. It is not often I get to see them, much less on Christmas Day! They are such lovely people, I do hope the presents I had prepared are— I— oh.” He pauses, breath hitching slightly. “My apologies, Dark Cacao… I rambled again, haven’t I…?” A sheepish giggle leaves the blonde’s lips as he settles beside Dark Cacao, his staff still lightly pressed against his back.
“Perhaps a little,” Dark Cacao says. “But I find it endearing. There is no shame in getting excited over festivities — especially ones I know you hold so dear.”
He isn’t sure if Pure Vanilla can see his smile, but it surely finds its way into his voice. Pure Vanilla flushes at Dark Cacao’s words, his smile growing wistful — almost reverent.
“Still… it is not something you personally find joy in. And yet still, you entertain me.” The blonde healer’s smile thins as he turns away, biting his lip slightly. “I— ah— oh dear, I did not mean to come here and lament to you. It is hardly fair.” Dark Cacao shakes his head and hums, reaching out to hold Pure Vanilla by the shoulder. His hand feels heavy there — warm and comforting.
And the blonde fights every thought urging him to lean into the touch. To move closer. To finally, finally step over that invisible line. “Nonsense, Pure Vanilla. I—” Cacao holds his breath, debating whether or not he should truly utter his next words. Everything hinges on it.
Whether his feelings — those feelings he has harbored for so long — would be returned, accepted, or rejected. The fear of destroying a bond, deep and platonic, over his own selfish desires nearly tears the Dragon Lord apart.
Yet still — this one time.
Dark Cacao wants to be selfish. He needs Pure Vanilla to know.
“There is nothing I would rather do than celebrate with you,” Dark Cacao says slowly, watching the blonde’s expression carefully before he continues. “I know these festivities mean a lot to you. And— and you… you mean a lot to me… and I—”
His voice is slow, thick with barely restrained bashfulness and emotion.
Somewhere through the middle of his sentence, he averts his gaze from Pure Vanilla’s unseeing eyes. Still — it feels unbearably heavy. The way the blonde’s soft lips part slightly, how the natural flush on his tan cheeks deepens, how his shoulders tense beneath those pearly white robes.
It is maddening.
But then salvation comes. And not in a way Cacao would have ever expected.
A warm hand touches his cheek. It is a feathery-soft touch — barely there — but still strong enough to immediately pull Dark Cacao’s attention and gaze back to its owner. Deep violet meets hazy pools of gold and blue.
And then suddenly, he feels lips on his own.
It is airy. Quick. Featherlight — but nothing short of marvelous. Dark Cacao’s eyes widen as Pure Vanilla steps forward, standing on his tiptoes to reach the taller man’s face as their lips connect. The kiss is short, but so genuine and warm it nearly makes the Dragon Lord’s heart leap from his chest. It is over almost as soon as it begins.
As Pure Vanilla steps back, wearing a serene smile that does little to hide the cherry-red flush on his cheeks, Dark Cacao’s mouth opens.
He wants to say a thousand words. A hundred different ways to say how much Pure Vanilla means to him. How deeply he cherishes him. How much he loves him.
But the blonde is quicker once more. He places one finger against Cacao’s lips in a quiet shh before pointing upward. Cacao’s eyes follow the blonde’s delicate hand, gaze traveling along the length of the staff. His eyes widen again, cheeks flushing deeply.
Tied to the base of the staff is mistletoe, decorated with a red bow — its white seedpods gleaming like pearls in the firelight.
“I hope…” Pure Vanilla begins, lips curling into a soft, loving smile. His lashes flutter as his expression twists into something both bashful and undeniably playful. “…this is worthy of a first kiss underneath a mistletoe…”
Cacao exhales. And at last, a smile — as lovesick and warm as Pure Vanilla’s — finds its way onto his face.
“…Absolutely, my friend…”