Chapter Text
It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, being the smallest cookie in the room. Especially surrounded by others that were so much stronger than you in every way.
That was the plight of little Matcha Cookie, cursed as the weakest of them all. She’d tried constantly, every single day, every chance she got to prove herself worthy. And in the end it didn’t matter. Mother’s favorite toady would always find a way to take all the attention. The sniveling wimp would somehow get her to turn to look, failure or success not withstanding. The prince needed to be supervised so that his sword wouldn’t just turn its blade on them randomly. The depths dweller, naive that they were, needed effort to be kept in the dark. So many other cookies who deserved more attention than her.
And she was expected to stay out of her sight, so that she didn’t embarrass her any further and marred her perfect image. No one would want to be constantly faced with their greatest failure, after all.
But Matcha Cookie would still try! She wanted to make mother proud, after all, to finally get a smile sent her direction. A word of thankfulness, of admiration, a word of praise that would finally tell her “I never regretted making you” and make up for all past transgressions! She knew she was a failure, but if she just had one chance to prove herself, she could show her that Matcha Cookie was worthy of love!
“You have always been a disappointment to me.”
And of course when the moment came, she managed to mess it up. The one chance to prove herself to Dark Enchantress Cookie, to craft a potion with her impeccable brewing skills, and she blew it by forgetting a pinch of ground up mandrake root. And yes, she understood the irony of the scenario. The result of missing an ingredient missing an ingredient. Incompetence ran in the family after all, she just had nothing to make up for it.
“I tried, just so you know, I did try. I gave you so many chances,” Dark Enchantress Cookie lied through her teeth, “so many opportunities to prove you weren’t a failure. And instead you proved me right.”
The other three cookies that surrounded her, the prince, the priest and the necromancer, stood in their spots by her throne. Not next to it, as that would imply she thought them as something close to equals. They were at least a few steps down from her, with only Pomegranate allowed to be by her side by two steps. And Matcha Cookie, the useless one, sat at the bottom, looking up at the insecure master of darkness who needed to feel perfect all the time.
Matcha Cookie held her head down, however, because saying such cruel things to one's creator would all but ruin any chances of impressing her. She still had one more chance to impress her, if she could speak her case properly.
The enchantress leaned down, that piercing red glare of hers aimed to judge every word out of her mouth. “What, pray tell, will your excuse be this time? Hmm?”
And as her broken soul loved to do, Matcha Cookie started with a laugh.
“Kehe, he, I didn’t- I wasn’t- mmm-”
“Would you speak clearly for once in your pitiful existence?” The room flinched when Dark Enchantress slammed her staff on the ground. Of course she’d be mad, why wouldn’t she be mad? She’d made it clear hundreds of times over in every interaction prior to this, and Matcha Cookie of course couldn’t conquer this flaw.
It didn’t help that it hurt so, so much not to let the laughter out.
But she would try for her sake. It would all be worth it. The little spark of hope still left in her heart told her to.
“I just, mmm, forgot. Yes, the mandrake root, it was in a different, mmm, another shelf and-” Still she stammered on like a dullard, her bravado disappearing as Dark Enchantress’ rage grew only more and more clear.
“That’s all? You forgot?” She massaged her brow at another display of idiocy from another member of her group. Damn her and her belief in the morons she led managing to get results. It was never worth the migraine. “Countless times you have failed me, and I’m beginning to realize now that such a thing would never change for a cookie like you.”
Matcha curled into herself at every word, each a stab to her already broken heart. But the last word made her eyes widen in fear.
“Perhaps, I should have thrown you down the garbage chute all along, with the other failures?” The enchantress thought on that past choice of hers as casually as if it was a decision between two types of cake to choose from. “It would have saved me so much pain and anguish in dealing with you.”
“Nononono, please! Not the chute, please, please.” The poor cookie begged. She didn’t want to be part of that darkness. Not again, not anymore.
“Um, your greatness, can I speak for a moment?” Licorice, the sniveling whelp, raised his hand. There was a clear discomfort visible in him, in how he shook in place and averted his gaze whenever the conversation got too intense.
Dark Enchantress didn’t even turn to look. “Unless it’s something of value, Licorice Cookie, then no.”
Like the coward he was, he shut his mouth immediately. The other coward, the one who ran from his own family and home, stayed as quiet as he always did. Neither of the two looked at all comfortable with the direction this meeting had taken. Even Pomegranate, the most slavishly loyal to her master’s word, held her mirror close to hide any grimace and preserve that loyal image of hers. Still, she was braver than those two. “Master, if I may suggest?”
At least for her, Dark Enchantress seemed more receptive. Even Matcha, who loathed the priest’s existence since the day she first showed up, felt another spark of hope. Please, please be good.
Pomegranate said, “Perhaps it would be better to simply give her less intensive tasks? Someone of her… limitations needs to be given tasks that fit their abilities, after all.”
Any nice words she had for the priest died in Matcha’s mouth. Always always always with the critiques. She hated all of them.
But Dark Enchantress did consider this. Her eyes narrowed as she mulled the thought over, her gaze landing back on the cookie who brought her nothing but suffering since birth.
“... No.”
The girl’s eyes widened. Her breath hitched. Her grip on her staff tightened. “What?”
Dark Enchantress said with more force. “No. No more chances. You have done enough.”
“No… not the chute, please.”
“There’s no need for it. Much as discarding you would be a joy for me, you aren’t capable of anything that would bring eyes upon our group. Matcha Cookie, for your failures as… my creation.” The revulsion in her voice at that word leaked through, “you are henceforth banished.”
“... no.”
“You are to leave these grounds, leave this group, leave this entire continent for all I care.”
“Please…”
“Am I not clear enough with you? Of course you would fail to understand something this basic. Dark Choco Cookie, escort her out of here.” The enchantress waved dismissively at the trembling cookie, the prince standing at attention and walking over to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder.
She didn’t have it in her to move as he began to drag her out, watching as her creator rubbed at her forehead.
By the time Dark Choco deigned to let her go, they were outside of the cradle’s gate, surrounded by a barren wasteland of dead trees. She still hadn’t moved, even as Dark Choco whispered an apology to her before leaving her behind.
Was… was this it? She could still do so much, she just needed one more chance. Even if she could never live up to what mother had made her for, she could be better at something. Anything. Yet no matter how much she tried, how much she fought to be seen.
None of it mattered.
At that moment, Matcha Cookie laughed again. A small giggle turning more and more manic as it finally dawned on her. She cackled until her voice turned hoarse, as it burned for any kind of relief and as her eyes leaked tears held back for decades. Of course! Of course it didn’t matter! How foolish of her to have hope in her heart for anything!?
She was a failure, nothing more and nothing less. And nothing would change mother’s mind to the fact. And yet she had stubbornly clung to this fading ember thinking she could make something out of herself. What a fool she was! What an idiot! What a hopeless, dull witted, imperfect failure!
Her body braced itself against her staff as she rasped out more laughter. And when it died down, enough that she could feel like breathing again, she started to slowly trudge forward into the forest. To where, she did not care. Maybe it would be to a town, or to another wasteland. Maybe she’d die on the way over. Who would care, anyway?
So she wandered to nowhere in particular, cackling to no one and nothing.