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Communication between Beast-Yeast and the Crème Republic was slow. Pure Vanilla was lucky to even receive three or four letters updating him on the Crème Republic's progress against Dark Enchantress's advances. He sent a few letters back, and in the last one he wrote, he informed the Consul that they failed to stop Dark Enchantress from stealing half of the Beasts' powers after they resealed the Beasts. Well, almost all of the Beasts. All of them except Shadow Milk.
It would be an understatement to say his friends were less than happy when Pure Vanilla decided to spare him. And there was a time when Pure Vanilla desired to get rid of Shadow Milk too. But soon after he awakened, Shadow Milk cowering below him in defeat, he saw a twinkle of regret in his eyes; perhaps even terror. He denied the very thought. Shadow Milk couldn't change. He would never change. But amidst his inner turmoil, his emotional mind won over his logic, and Pure Vanilla took Shadow Milk's hand, leading him out of the Spire where they were once enemies. Or so he hoped. Keeping Shadow Milk alive was a risk, and if he could go back in time, he might have opted for his destruction. But it was a risk he took anyway.
After they left Shadow Milk's domain, Pure Vanilla found a cabin in a remote forest where they could live for a while (if Shadow Milk did turn against him, it would take longer for him to get to other kingdoms). Thankfully, none of that came to pass. Initially, he was still wretched, albeit without any bite to his bark. It was obvious Shadow Milk struggled internally, and with an unassailable amount of patience, Pure Vanilla led him out of that valley of doubt. A month later, he saw noticeable changes; Shadow Milk was more helpful, not just to him, but to other cookies in the towns they frequented. He improved so much that Pure Vanilla moved them closer to civilization, lest he feel alone.
Falling in love was sudden. Little glances and brief hugs here and there eventually led to Shadow Milk's confession. Pure Vanilla was shocked; in all his life, he never imagined he would forgive someone as deranged as Shadow Milk, much less love him, but here he was, slipping away from his friends at times to peck Shadow Milk on the cheek, a smile on his lips. Just like when he told his friends he had spared Shadow Milk, they weren't thrilled to hear he was in a relationship with him now. They were reluctantly supportive, at most. But he couldn't expect them to think any different; Pure Vanilla knew it was a dangerous kind of love that might get him killed. But that was the funny thing about forgiveness: it could bring the greatest joys and the worst betrayals.
Their blossoming love life was interrupted one day when White Lily rushed over with an important letter. Clotted Cream wanted them at the Crème Republic for a meeting regarding Dark Enchantress's recent expansion to other territories. As soon as dawn broke the next day, he packed his bags and boarded an airship with his friends. To pass the time, they recounted the struggles and successes in their journey, finally happy to be going back somewhere familiar, somewhere safe. At least, as happy as they could be with Shadow Milk tagging along.
As the airship settled on a stunning port above the deep-blue oceans, Pure Vanilla asked Shadow Milk if he wanted to attend the meeting; his wealth of knowledge would prove a worthy asset to their cause. However, almost predictably, he refused like an unruly child, begging Pure Vanilla to stay with him. When Pure Vanilla asked why he didn't want to go, he insisted it would be "boring" and a "waste of time." Pure Vanilla sighed; it seemed some things never changed. But after a bit of back-and-forth bickering, Shadow Milk begrudgingly let him leave.
The meeting room was as magnificent as he remembered; stained glass windows painted the room with a mixture of colors, soft in the air but stark on the ground. A large table sat in the center, its grandiosity a bit too pretentious for Pure Vanilla; it was one of the reasons he disliked the spacious ballrooms and never-ending chambers of his old castle. Pure Vanilla tried to pay attention to Clotted Cream's words, but Shadow Milk kept pulling him in and out of the Dark Side of the Moon to woo him; it was a little ridiculous. By the time Clotted Cream finished his speech, which ran for over an hour, Pure Vanilla had only absorbed a third of his message. Thankfully, nobody had questioned his absent-mindedness, and after the meeting adjourned, Hollyberry asked if he wanted to join them for a late afternoon lunch. Instead, he declined in favor of Shadow Milk, who now sat on a lonesome chair against the wall.
"What's wrong?" He asked, noticing the grim expression on his face.
"You take so long! And for what? To chit-chat about some over-complicated plan?" Shadow Milk waved his hand nonchalantly. "Like I said, it's a waste of time. I can obliterate Dark Enchantress for you in one second."
Pure Vanilla shook his head. "After she took some of your powers, she became stronger. It won't be that simple."
"Don't remind me," Shadow Milk muttered, his hair (or hat, Pure Vanilla couldn't tell) bubbling with vexation. "I'll get my revenge."
He grabbed Shadow Milk's hand, squeezing it. "We're in this together, remember? Don't let anger control you."
Even if Shadow Milk hated critique from other cookies, he always listened to him. It was curious; funny, even. At another gentle squeeze, Shadow Milk nodded, relaxing. He smiled. Then, he pulled Pure Vanilla into a hug. Startled at first, Pure Vanilla returned it, brushing faintly against Shadow Milk's inky hair. He thought he heard a gasp, but it had been so fleeting, so quiet, that he dismissed it as the result of his terrible hearing. When they separated, Shadow Milk wore a mischievous grin.
"You still owe me for making me wait so long."
"And how?" Pure Vanilla asked.
"By sightseeing!"
-
Shadow Milk dragged him through markets, towns, and seaside ports, pointing at birds in the sky and admiring the scenery along the way. They bought a treasure trove of snacks, like exotic strawberry jellies and blue cotton candy, which Pure Vanilla enjoyed watching Shadow Milk eat. It comforted his heart. It was as if he had never suffered through years of imprisonment, seeking revenge and plunging civilizations into chaos. It was as if he had never experienced total ruin and guilt. And maybe if he ignored their surroundings, ignored how cookies passed by, and glared at them, he could pretend it never happened. But he couldn't. He couldn't erase Shadow Milk's past.
By the time they finished exploring the outer perimeter, the afternoon had vanished, leaving in its place the darkening clouds of the evening sky. They spotted a large museum as they made their final round, and Pure Vanilla suggested they go in. Shadow Milk agreed silently; he assumed he was just tired. The building itself was tidy and well-cleaned. Large ornate pillars flew upwards and hugged the golden ceiling. It was cold, but not too cold like some museums were, and the ocean breeze permeated the inside with a crispy freshness. Even if the contents inside were disappointing, the immaculate presentation made up for it. Pure Vanilla respected that.
A tour guide, perhaps a young Vanillian, greeted and introduced the museum to them as an "endless archive on Crème Republican history." She guided them through the first half of the museum, but afterward, they detoured, insisting they'd be fine looking at the last few exhibits themselves. At first, Shadow Milk peered passively, not bothering to look at any given artifact for more than a minute; as Pure Vanilla glossed over lengthy paragraphs of information and admired the awe-inspiring statues and scrolls gleaming under the opaque lights, Shadow Milk paced around like an impatient juvenile, muttering and groaning about how dull it was, how he already knew about each object's history. But when they got to the exhibits on the old Vanilla Kingdom, Shadow Milk took sudden interest. Shadow Milk glued himself to each antiquity's label, reading their descriptions as if he were investigating a mystery and not just taking in the texts of a long-gone kingdom. Pure Vanilla wondered if this was what Shadow Milk's old self was like; a scholar scouring for new information, pondering the infinite possibilities that lay ahead, detailed and mechanical in his research. He barely recognized him as he quietly observed each artifact.
Soon, they stumbled across a painting of Dark Enchantress's invasion that Shadow Milk became particularly engrossed in. Thick layers of red, yellow, and black hauntingly depicted the horror of the Vanillians who fled to escape certain doom. Pure Vanilla looked alongside Shadow Milk, but he didn't know what for. He didn't need to reread or relearn a tragedy he already experienced. He supposed he did it so he wouldn't feel alone in his ruminations.
"You're lucky."
"What?" Pure Vanilla asked, taken aback by his statement.
"Your kingdom got destroyed. But some of your people escaped. And now they live here. Your legacy isn't dead." He couldn't recall the last time Shadow Milk struck him with such a sad smile. It made him feel something he couldn't quite describe. Shadow Milk sighed. "I don't have anything left."
"What about your kingdom?" He shuddered. Of course, he had already forgiven Shadow Milk, but the memories of his torment in the Spire never completely left him. "And your subjects? They still exist. They carry your legacy, don't they?"
Shadow Milk shrugged. "Sort of. Not really. My people hate me. And I abandoned my kingdom a long time ago."
"Oh, Shadow Milk," Pure Vanilla whispered, caressing his shoulder. "Certainly, you can make amends and repair the damage, right?"
Shadow Milk shook his head. He became eerily quiet again. And then, as if he had never spilled out the guts of his guilt, he said, "Why don't we go finish looking at this boring museum? It's not going to read itself, you know!"
Ah, back to his cheery mood. He decided he wouldn't push him further.
After observing a few statues of historical Crème Republic figures (most of whom Pure Vanilla had to ask Shadow Milk their names), they returned to the museum's entrance. They thanked the tour guide, gave her a tip, and went their way.
Like most of the stores, Shadow Milk had become reticent for the remainder of their walk. Was he concerned? Was he sad? Or was he simply thinking over his old life? In any case, Pure Vanilla let him be. The sun grazed the horizon, its brilliant flame painting the sky a swirl of pink and blue. Pure Vanilla's legs ached, and he asked Shadow Milk if they could sit under the public pavilion to watch the sunset. Luckily, there were no cookies, and they found an empty table.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" He wavered his mind still on their conversation.
"I've seen a million sunsets," Shadow Milk responded softly; Pure Vanilla almost expected to be ignored, "but the ones with you are the best."
Once the light had disappeared, he rested his head on Shadow Milk's shoulder and took in the salty air. They kept quiet for a few minutes as the crickets began their nightly songs. Then, Shadow Milk broke the silence with another one of those doubtful questions.
"Everyone still hates me, don't they?"
Pure Vanilla wasn't imagining it; something was bothering Shadow Milk. And he could lie and pretend and comfort Shadow Milk all he wanted, but he knew that wasn't what he deserved, what he sought.
"Yes, Shadow Milk. Some of them do," he replied. "You were once a Beast, a monster. Nobody forgets that easily. But you're changing. Just focus on that."
Then, he did something he would regret; a fatal mistake in the guise of comfort.
As Pure Vanilla curled his arm around him, leaning in for a hug, he brushed his hand against Shadow Milk's hair, and for the second time that day, Shadow Milk let out an unsolicited noise: a moan. So he hadn't misheard the first time. He was quiet enough so other cookies strolling by the road couldn't hear, but loud enough for Pure Vanilla, whose head was right by Shadow Milk's lips. Shadow Milk shook, heaving gently, and in one quick motion, he pushed Pure Vanilla away.
"Shadow Milk?"
Shadow Milk was flushed. His eyes searched the ground, looking for something that wasn't there.
"I need to go."
And before Pure Vanilla could question him, he sprung out of the chair and vanished through a portal.
-
Ever since that day, Shadow Milk refused to talk, not just about the incident (Pure Vanilla still didn't know what he had done wrong), but to him in general; the silent treatment. Pure Vanilla was never fond of that tactic. He even felt a bit disappointed. He thought Shadow Milk would grow out of something as silly as avoiding confrontation, but he still had a long way to go on the path of redemption.
Even though they had separate rooms, which Clotted Cream had generously lent during their stay, they often visited each other for chaste kisses and unabashed cuddling. Not anymore. It had only been six days since any sort of contact, but it felt like an eternity; now all Pure Vanilla wanted to see was his face, even if for just a moment. So each night thereafter, he went to Shadow Milk's room, knocking incessantly on his door, hoping he could steal at least a glance. But each time he attempted to do so, he was sent away by one of Shadow Milk's spells. Patience usually came easy to him, yet as he was transported to his room for the seventh time, he shook in annoyance.
A whole week. It went on for a whole week. Pure Vanilla still went to the meetings and conferences and gatherings, fulfilling his inane obligations and duties, but all he could think about was Shadow Milk. That night, after experiencing a three-hour-bickering session between some of the Elders in the Council, he lay on his bed, rereading Shadow Milk's old love letters; if he couldn't see him, then at the very least he could fawn over his writing. He never thought he would feel this alone. Yes, he had friends who loved him, friends who wouldn't hesitate to lend him a hand, but they paled in comparison to Shadow Milk's masterful care and devotion. He missed when Shadow Milk corrected the little mistakes in his letters to dignitaries or taste-tested his latest batch of cherry pie. He missed his terrible puns and jokes, the way he made him laugh so freely and carelessly. He missed his troublesome curiosity, how he prodded him for attention, even at the worst times. Now Pure Vanilla felt like a starved man stranded on an ocean with no land in sight, the land being Shadow Milk.
No. Pure Vanilla tossed the letters behind him. He wouldn't give up so easily. He let Shadow Milk sulk for a week, sulking over something he wasn't even entirely sure of yet. But this time, he wouldn't knock. He wouldn't play kind. He marched to Shadow Milk's room and forced open the door with his magic. As expected, Shadow Milk was curled under the covers of his bed. What he didn't expect was to see those meticulous hands grooming his black, watery hair.
"Pure Vanilla?" Shadow Milk gasped. His hands flew to his covers, and he sank as if he was found naked rather than brushing himself.
Pure Vanilla went to the edge of his bed, sat down, faced away, and asked, "Why have you been avoiding me?"
No response.
"Shadow Milk…" Pure Vanilla's voice lowered, menacing. He never thought he would use this tone of voice. It must have worked, though, because Shadow Milk spoke barely above a whisper.
"It's stupid. Just leave me alone."
"Is it stupid enough for you to restrain yourself from me for a week?"
"Yes!" Shadow Milk yelled. "You think you can just… fiddle with me like a puppet?"
"What do you mean?" Pure Vanilla gaped.
Shadow Milk grunted as if choking on his words, but then his admission came out like a waterfall. "You touched my hair. Well, an extension of my hair," he shook his head, not knowing how to articulate it. "The underside with the eyes. It's my most sensitive part. And it made me feel weak. I hate feeling weak."
His… hair? Pure Vanilla froze. All of this over his hair? He had never noticed it as much as he should have. He glanced at those eyes swirling in the black mass of Shadow Milk's hair, pupils expanding and contracting, peering at him as if they could read his every thought, his every movement. Perhaps they were odd, even creepy, but his hair didn't strike him as something to feel weak over. Pure Vanilla internally dissuaded the thought; no. If Shadow Milk, the former Beast of Deceit, got this flustered to the point of withholding himself for a week, there was a good reason.
Hesitant, he asked, "Did I hurt you? I didn't know I had touched you in such a tender place. Regardless, I apologize."
Shadow Milk sank deeper into the cotton cocoon of his covers. "That's not what I'm upset about. I'm upset because I… liked it. And I fantasized about it. How ridiculous is that?"
"Fantasized?"
"I want you to do it again," Shadow Milk's hands returned to his hair, patting it softly. "I want you to stroke and brush my hair. It's stupid, I know."
"There's nothing stupid about that," Pure Vanilla reassured. Then, he had an idea. "But, I'll only do it if you promise me one thing."
"What?" Shadow Milk frowned. He seemed to be on the border of blasting him to bits.
"You'll promise me to be a better cookie. No more avoiding. You'll go back to your kingdom and fix any damage you caused. Make amends with your subjects. And when you do, promise me you won't doubt yourself."
The silence came back like a ghost, and for a moment, Pure Vanilla thought he would say no. He thought he'd even send him back to his room like he had done the past few days, alone and without answers. But then there was a sigh; a sign of hope.
"Fine. How hard can it be to be like my old, boring, scholarly self?" Shadow Milk admitted. "I was pretty generous once. I can do it again."
"Not like your old self," Pure Vanilla brought a hand to his cheek, a smile on his face. "Better than your old self!"
Pure Vanilla pulled Shadow Milk out from under the thick layers of blankets. He must have looked like a fool with his love-stricken gaze.
"Now, may I?"
Shadow Milk returned his smile and nodded.
With that one simple gesture, Pure Vanilla brought his hands around Shadow Milk's neck and weaved them through his hair, being careful to avoid the eyes. It had a peculiar texture, like a viscous liquid, warm and pleasant; almost like molasses or treacle. He glided his hands up and down, threading the fluid strands through his fingers. The effects were immediately apparent. As he swam in the black expanse of his hair, Shadow Milk had become completely silent, his mind somewhere else. He was pliable; his body keened for more as he fell deeper into him. Shadow Milk shoveled his head into Pure Vanilla's shoulder, concealing the faint whimpers that carelessly left his lips, hands clutching his cape. His chest rose and fell against Pure Vanilla's like a beating drum, heart pounding against his.
He didn't want to overwhelm Shadow Milk; he was afraid he would somehow torture him to death with pleasure. So he pulled away. A light blush painted Shadow Milk's face with a delightful pink, like the many paintings they had seen in the museum. Pure Vanilla leaned in and kissed his cheek as if his lips would fan the fires of his passion.
When he realized Shadow Milk was too breathless to speak, he asked, "Want me to stay tonight?"
Shadow Milk nodded.
Pure Vanilla slipped away from the bed and into the bathroom, changed into a night robe, and tidied himself. While he went through his nightly routine, the smooth and soft texture of Shadow Milk's hair buzzed on his fingers, and he wondered what Shadow Milk experienced. So, as he slipped under the covers, he asked, "What does it feel like for you?"
Shadow Milk cocked his head in confusion.
"I mean, touching your hair," Pure Vanilla specified, embarrassed.
Shadow Milk went into thought. "A bit tingly. Like someone tickling you. My hair changed after I became a Beast. Probably because of my corruption."
Pure Vanilla nodded slowly. He tried to be like the scholar Shadow Milk was, analyzing how his transformation might have changed his physique, but instead, all he could think about was touching those bundles of hair again. Before he could stop himself, his hands dove into that swathe of blackness, bathing themselves in Shadow Milk's warmth.
"Well, someone's excited," Shadow Milk inhaled, grinning.
"Me?" Pure Vanilla teased, pressing his body against Shadow Milk's. "Who's the one who fantasized about it first?"
Shadow Milk opened his mouth, perhaps to deny his claim, but when Pure Vanilla brushed against a particularly sensitive spot, he went silent, opting instead to hide another moan.
He chuckled. Who knew it would be so easy to please a Beast?