Chapter Text
Pen scratched wildly across yellowed paper. It had been a long month away from home and Pure Vanilla, the Prince of the Valley Kingdom, scribbled down endless notes of his rather unfruitful adventures as an envoy for his kingdom. The anxious quill avoided writing the words, as Pure Vanilla’s father’s words echoed in his mind:
“All things to help build your political career.”
His father had told him that before he left for the Crème Republic, which in some regard was quite true. He was learning to negotiate with different kingdoms, and was able to see in real time why everyone liked one nation but hated another, and was able to see why so many were sucking it up to him and the two consuls who came with. But then his father had told him how important it was that he strike a trade deal with The Forest Kingdom, and that both Pure Vanilla’s reputation and his were on the line if he didn’t.
“Your way with words is quite exemplary, Your Highness!” One of the Consuls had complimented as the crew was loading precious cargo into their ship, just a few hours before they had set sail for home. It had meant to lift him up, but really it just reminded him of how he failed his mission.
“You should be proud of how many precious things you were able to negotiate to the other kingdoms!” The second consul gestured to the many goods being brought upon the royal naval vessel. Gifts for the royal family, letters, high quality food fresh from the Crème Republic’s food stores, but most importantly Magic Candy, special gems that helped magic users control their powers. But really it just added to the guilt; there would be no trade alliance with the Forest Kingdom.
And now the Prince was completing his reports of the week's events, a task he had procrastinated since the evening before. And now he was writing them all by candle light of a bobbing ship, something that he realized he now regretted. Pigment kept splattering as the ship creaked as it glided over waves, cutting through the tongues of saltwater while Pure Vanilla crossed out his inky mistakes. The waves were getting rougher as the speed of the ship was driven through the currents like the flashes of lightning the boat was sailing away from, westbound back home.
The ship captain and navigators had told the crew and high passengers of the ship that the storm would not be headed towards them. Or at least that was their prediction. It seemed as though someone on their noble vessel had angered the great Storm Goddess for that storm was now gliding through the skies to simply kiss the sails of the golden vessel.
Prince Pure Vanilla had been confined to his quarters for what felt like an eternity within the trepidation of the storm’s first strike. His attempt to fill the pages with broad retelling and half remembered handshakes had run sour at the sound of the sky breaking and the shouting protests from the hapless sailors.
That could not be a good sign.
But at least it was a distraction.
Rain tattered against the small porthole. Thunder clashed. Pure Vanilla bobbed his leg up and down to calm his nerves. Wood roared as the ship was tossed between waves. The ink dried silently on parchment. The Prince’s stomach tightened.
Outside of Prince Pure Vanilla’s cabin, the clouds surrounding the ship loomed down to touch the sea, wispy tendrils clawing up the sides of the ship. The captain barked orders for the crew as they all clamored to keep the sails in position.
The storm screamed. Pure Vanilla hummed a tune. Words entered parchment with the flick of a wrist. Time flowed like sludge under a wagon wheel. The candles illuminating the room flickered, undisturbed. Pure Vanilla rubbed sleep out of his eyes. Something in the water bumped the underside of the ship.
Something in the water bumped the underside of the ship.
That’s not possible.
Pure Vanilla was just tired. He hadn’t slept the past two nights due to the conference and the crew knew what they were doing, he had his full trust in them. They were hand selected by his father for this odyssey, the perfect crew, able to handle anything, even though they did make a few navigational errors on their way to the Crème Republic, or the fact that the Cook and the Quartermaster always argued over how much space there was in the hull for food. They still got there in the end, well fed too, and they would make it back home. A small storm would only delay them a day or two, and there certainly was not just a bump against the underside of the ship.
The Prince sighed a sleepy sigh, yeah he was definitely just tired, and dipped his quill back into the fountain of ink. He only had to document the last day—the day he failed—and he would be free to retire to bed and rest before meeting the storm that awaited him back home.
At least that’s what Pure Vanilla told himself, but his mind had other plans. His eyes would trail off the pages of notes he made to stare out the porthole of his private quarters. He’d watched the fog swirl around and reveal the raging storm the ship was trying to escape. He narrowed his eyes to see further into the tempest, somewhere past the scattered rain was the center, where that storming goddess readied another strike.
The ship went up over another mountain of a wave and shuddered as it rode down its peak. Astonished shouts came from above deck. Salt spray spewed against the porthole, clearing the mist for just a few seconds. The Prince stared down the opening, trying to make out something that vaguely floated against the storm.
No.
Surely he was mistaken.
A ship coming in from the eye of the storm? Impossible!
What kind of captain would be foolish enough to test the Storm Goddess’s pride?
Another strike hit the ship from the portside. Like the sound of a tree hitting the earth, hollow. It was like the storm had decided to freeze for a few seconds, waiting for little minds to decide what was real. But with the thrash of yet another wave, the time to decide was cut short as reality chose for itself, beginning with a shriek from above deck.
“BY THE GODS WHAT IS THAT?!”
“A SEA SERPENT?! BUT THOSE LIVE IN COLD WATERS!”
“CAPTAIN IT’S REARING FOR THE MAST—”
There was a low thrum of benign creaking as the ship as yanked opposite of the ceaseless waves. The tiredness in Pure Vanilla snapped at the jolt, sending him stumbling out of his chair.
The Prince scrambled to get out of his room, throwing the door open, barely managing to keep his balance as the ship rocked to the starboard side.
What was going on? Was the crew alright? A sea serpent?
He bolted as he felt the rumble of cannons and another shuddering sound of wood splitting. “Your Highness, you shouldn’t be up here!” A crew member hissed, grabbing him by the shoulder as he burst onto the spar deck.
“Vanilla Custard, what’s going on? I heard yelling and… oh,” The Prince looked up, seeing the great serpentine wrenched its jaws out of the main mast. “Oh Gods.”
The towering wind catcher had begun to splinter. Shards tore out with a wretched screech. The sea serpent veered its head back, spitting wood as its slitted pupils narrowed in on the prince in his shining coat.
“Prince Pure Vanilla, please get back inside—”
The beast’s teeth shone in whatever dim light managed to seep through the clouds; a violent omen. Wooden hulls creaking dangerously, Pure Vanilla could see the moment it tightened its gaping maw. Ripping through the ship like parchment. Splinters of wood caught in its gums, between its teeth, they floated idly in the thrashing waves.
It hungered. Not for the hard exoskeleton, of course. For the doughy weak bits inside. Tore through it like an axe through a tortoise shell. It could only want dough, want to stain the water jam-red with its soft prey.
It crashed into the ship, splitting it in two, the sound of the screams were palpable.
What was left of the ship was slippery, edges fraying, deck bloodied with jam, now sinking deeper into the sea. Cookies were already in that water, bits of their bodies floating on the surface. Mauled, eaten.
The enraged waves spewed up against the ship, hungrily consuming everything. The serpent pulled the ship down, plunging Pure Vanilla down into the black currents.
Salt stung in his eyes, he could see the whole ship falling deeper into dark waters, bodies of the unconscious crew sinking with it.
Pure Vanilla called out amidst the water, choking on it when he tried to scream. Out of the corner of his eye the sea serpent darted through the water, its eye piercing him with that same gaze. Water replaced the last breaths that slipped out his mouth as he began to sink with the rest of his condemned and damned to the drowning deep and the serpent.
𓂃𓂁﹏𓊝𓂃𓂁﹏
The storm had begun to subside as soon as it began. Gray clouds receded into the distance without a single thought, the waves puckered out to calm, shimmering pushes up against the Lying Spire, one of the most feared pirate ships among the Five Kingdoms.
“Well crew, it looks like our work here is done,” Captain Shadow Milk concluded with a smirk, snapping his telescope closed. “That ought to keep the Crème Republic and their allies at bay for another few months.”
“They didn’t stand a chance against us, Captain!” Candy Apple piped up from behind him. “Blueberry Swirl cut right through that military ship in one slash! It was so INCREDIBLE!!” She animated the entire attack with her hands, mimicking the sounds of the crew screaming as they fell into the sea with a mocking splash from her mouth.
Shadow Milk laughed along with her, “The Warlock of the Ten Tides always has a plan!” He chimed, casting a spell that threw a slight teasing breeze against the younger cookie’s face.
“Black Sapphire, set a course for Chamomile Port, we’ll resupply there, and probably earn some winnings from an old friend,” The Warlock snickered, excitedly picturing the look on the Great Red Bandit’s face when he informed him of his most recent plundering.
“Aye’ aye, Captain!” Black Sapphire called from the wheel.
As Black Sapphire started steering, Shadow Milk’s familiar, Blueberry Swirl, emerged from the water with its jaws clamped tightly around something drenched.
“Aha! Well if it isn’t the star of my wonderful production! What have you brought back for us, my familiar?” Shadow Milk held up his hands towards the serpent, waiting for the creature to release whatever it had found.
Its slotted eyes blinked as it lowered its head just above the ship's railing, letting go of a soggy, crumbling cookie, with a wet, limp thud, making the entire crew jump back.
“EWWW!!!” Candy Apple grimaced. She poked the body with her foot as Blueberry Swirl shifted its form in that of a black cat with deep blue eyes and sat in front of the body, licking its paw. “Captain Shadow Milk! It’s so gross—we have to get it off the ship!”
Blueberry Swirl hissed, its form manipulating to give it sharper fangs and it snapped at Candy Apple’s leg. Shadow Milk bent down to take a closer look, his one visible eye narrowing at the unconscious dough. Why had his familiar spared this one?
“Ow!! Hey! Nobody wants your dead body!”
“Candy Apple, he’s not dead.” Shadow Milk shot back, “He’s just half drowned. I believe Blueberry Swirl spared him because he has information for us, and what is not the best treasure of all if not knowledge?” With the flick of the Warlock’s wrist, the water within the unconscious cookie began to rise out and return to the sea. The body began to cough up the remaining soda water, and attempted to pull themself up from the ground.
“Wh-what’s going—”
“Now, now, how about you go back to resting, knave.” The Captain chuckled as he took the helpless sailor by the chin and spread his other hand across his forehead, whispering the tome for a minor sleep spell. The effect was instantaneous, the cookie reduced back into unconscious dough before they could even react.
“Candy Apple, assist Black Sapphire with navigation, I need to interrogate our new prisoner.” Shadow Milk shot a glare at Blueberry Swirl which was reciprocated with the same look in the eyes of the shapeshifting cat. Candy Apple nodded and pulled out the map as Shadow Milk levitated the sleeping cookie down to the lower floors of the ship.
As he locked up the cookie he got a closer look at his features, blond hair, tanned dough, and oddly ornate dress ware, full of highly detailed gold embroidery and matching blue details. As Shadow Milk noted down each detail, a plan—a performance!—had hatched in his head. He knew exactly why his familiar had spared this cookie and he was going to make great use of his new bartering chip.