Chapter Text
Clotted Cream Cookie doesn’t remember most of his childhood. If he were asked for a complete account, he’d probably turn in a clear-cut bullet list rather than anything resembling a coherent novel.
He remembers the big shifts; the headlines in catastrophically bold inc that flipped his whole world upside down, but the rest is just meaningless white spaces in between the letters.
Meeting Black Sapphire Cookie fell into the former category.
Clotted Cream remembers that day vividly. He was in the middle of one of his weekly sparring lessons in the yard. The sky was clear, the sun was shining, and there was a mockingly refreshing breeze to accompany him every time he was knocked flat on the ground.
Of all the classes and practices his father put him through, combat lessons were by far the ones he hated the most. His tutor was a specialized guardsman of House Custard who loved to tell him how much ‘combat is an excellent opportunity to prove your worth’ every time Clotted Cream Cookie proved how utterly hopeless he was.
As if the lessons themselves weren’t bad enough, Clotted Cream also felt like he was losing his mind that day. There was an itch on the back of his neck that just wouldn’t leave him alone no matter how many times he tried to ignore it.
He found himself looking over his shoulder constantly; specifically at the upper story windows of House Custard. But no matter how often he checked, he never found his father staring back at him through the glass with his familiar disapproving glare.
As the lesson wore on, he started seeing shadows moving out of the corner of his eye and he could’ve sworn he heard something that sounded like laughter every time he fell but it was so distant it was as if it was coming from the back of his mind.
Eventually, he’d had enough and stuck his sword in the ground with a bit more force than necessary.
“I think I’m going to try another blade.” He smiled at his tutor. “This one… isn’t working out.”
His tutor suggested having a servant grab him a new one from the armory but Clotted Cream blew him off claiming he wanted to use this opportunity to take a quick breather.
How embarrassing.
It was ridiculous of him to be letting his paranoia get the better of him like that. It was bad enough that it was distracting him during lessons but he’d let it physically pull him away from his work.
He had a mission. A mission to prove himself to House Custard and prove to his father that he wasn’t a waste of time and money. But something was taking his focus away from that mission. He rubbed the back of his neck with reinvigorated suspicion.
There was someone watching him.
His eyes eventually landed on a boy in a House Custard uniform. Then they lingered because it was a boy in a House Custard Uniform.
A Cookie who couldn’t be much older than him, wearing an official House Custard gardening apron with his perfectly trimmed blonde hair tucked neatly into a matching sun hat that tilted to cover his eyes. It was strange how impeccably he mimicked the other gardeners while sticking out like a sore thumb at the same time. It was like seeing a toddler come marching out of the womb in sync with an armed battalion.
Clotted Cream stared for a moment as the cookie plucked a berry from a low hanging tree branch with his back to him, then Clotted Cream leapt into action as the boy carelessly popped the berry into his mouth.
“Wait, those are yew berries! Those are poisonous spit that out this instant!”
The boy jumped and turned to look at him with wide eyes before narrowing his gaze while holding the berry defiantly in his mouth.
“You might want to check the record, I’ve eaten tons of these before and I’m still doing just fine.”
“Yes. If you buy them seedless. The seed is highly toxic if it’s broken open.”
Clotted Cream stumbled backward in disgust as the boy immediately spit it out at his feet. Clotted Cream frowned at the look he was given afterwards. He’d just saved this boy’s life and he had the audacity to look smug.
“Who are you!?” Clotted Cream Cookie demanded.
The boy smirked. “No one to get all upset about. Just your humble House Custard garden worker trying to earn his next paycheck. Now you’re actually interrupting my work so if you could just run along-”
“Please, my father would never hire someone so young, let alone someone so incompetent.”
The boy paused for a moment, looked himself up and down, then tilted his head back with a self-deprecating mutter that sounded something like “I always forget something.” Before sharply turning his gaze with something unsettlingly close to hunger. “Your father…? You mean Elder Custard?”
Clotted Cream Cookie stood his ground despite something wobbling in his chest, “yes congratulations, you know who you work for, or rather who you claim to be working for.” Clotted Cream Cookie drew himself up to his full height just like his father would in this situation “Now, I’ll repeat myself one more time, and if you don’t answer I’m calling the guards, who are you?”
The boy blinked back at him, unbothered, and tilted his head curiously “why haven’t I heard of you before?"
Clotted Cream felt something in his chest tip over and shatter.
“Normally an elder having a child is pretty big news. You sure can’t get House Oyster to shut up about their up and coming heir and she’s in her 30s. So where was your name in the paper? You're what, 11, 12 years old? They should’ve at least announced your birth.”
Clotted Cream Cookie stepped back. “You’ve- been watching the news?” His father had turned down his request to be updated on recent political events, though, based on his mood, Clotted Cream could tell that something was upsetting him recently.
“You could say that. Though, it’s been a little unreliable lately, wouldn’t you agree?”
There was something to the way the boy folded his hands behind his back languidly with a fresh air of smugness, but Clotted Cream couldn’t focus on that at the time. “You’re sure they haven’t mentioned me?”
“Odd, isn’t it? You hardly ever hear anything from House Custard these days despite Elder Custard being so active in the political scene. He steps on that podium, makes a big spiel about ‘staying grounded in times of crisis’ and then just melts back into the butter and sweets he comes from. There’s been lots of speculation about what a politician could possibly be doing in his spare time out of the public eye but if you ask me…”
The boy kept talking but Clotted Cream was no longer listening. His father was keeping him ambiguous. The only cookies who knew Clotted Cream were all loyal servants to House Custard. Elder Custard was holding him at arm's length, he could drop him at any time. He was ready to drop him at any time…
“...Fussing… crisis… radio silence… name…?”
The boy's voice blurred into static. A tingling sensation that spread through Clotted Cream’s hands and feet like a thousand little needles drenched in sweat. They didn’t know his name. None of the cookies out there knew his name. Out there he would go back to being nothing; forgotten, unwanted, and alone.
The boy knocked sharply on his forehead. Twice. “Hellooo? Is this thing on?”
Clotted Cream Cookie looked him in the eyes and for a moment the smirk fell from the boy's face. “I… I just asked for your name, heh, what, did you forget your script or something?”
The boy’s tone was still joking but there was a layer of concern underneath it, maybe. Or maybe Clotted Cream was just trying to latch on to something.
The words were pulled from Clotted Cream’s mouth like some desperate life line cast from a feeble raft in a dark, vast, ocean. “Clotted Cream Cookie.”
The words were repeated across the garden in a beckoning call from his tutor. They both jumped.
When Clotted Cream turned to look back at the boy he was holding out his right hand. Something had also shifted in his expression, but Clotted Cream couldn’t pin what it was, “Black Sapphire Cookie. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”