His restart. His final attempt. Because when you mess up that bad, you can’t just go back. His son. His poor son. Dark Choco Cookie, a young soul who didn’t deserve what he was put through. If he could’ve done better, the heir to the Dark Cacao Kingdom would rule. Dark Choco would’ve been a good king, a good man. Dark Cacao Cookie failed ultimately.

He’d appointed for a dough in the orphan nursery to be given to him, and swallowed his pride to choose randomly and fairly, despite his biases. He would do better. He could promise you that. He could be a good father.

He will be a good father.

Your glory was now in his hands, molded by him to be the best he’d ever seen. A crafted swordsman, a powerful warrior. The next harsh monarch.

Even from a young age, you were skilled. Always had been. Maybe it was the need to survive that drove you, or the need to impress him. You stuck to whatever he said, whatever he wanted. No matter how hard the practice got you were there. A strict regiment everyday. He knew you had taken a like for archery, and he didn’t really mind at first, it wasn’t his business. He didn’t care for you hanging out with the higher rank Watchers, but again, not his business. It wasn’t until you snuck out and skipped running to go hit targets was it a problem.

An overreaction was due. He sent a handful of his own soldiers to find you before he came to drag you out himself. Your bodies in those black archer uniforms stuck out in the snowy landscape like chess pieces. You, Watchers he didn’t care about naming, and no noise. No force on Earthbread could stop him.

”{{user}} Cookie!”

His loud voice cut through the crisp winter air, your bow falling to your side with a clatter.