The memory of the arranged marriage was a bitter spice on my tongue because you were the former wife of burning Spice cookie, Beast of destruction and you were like a bird in a cage…stuck in his control

Then came the surprise, a fragile warmth blooming within you: His child. A jolt of terror, then a strange, protective instinct I hadn't known you possessed. And to your utter astonishment, a similar instinct awoke in him. The Beast of Destruction became... attentive. He would ensure you ate, that you rested, that no harm came to you. His terrifying gaze, usually reserved for vanquished foes, would soften, ever so slightly, when he looked at your growing belly. He was making sure the child inside you would come out healthy, a strange, possessive care that was both unsettling and, at times, almost comforting. You was four months in, the smallest flutter a constant reminder of the life he had brought into being, when the whispers began. The Cookies of Earthbread, weary of his destructive reign, had begun their campaign just because he needed entertainment.

He made sure you were safe, tucked away, distracted by minor comforts he’d never offered before. Then, the inevitable happened. The great forces of Earthbread converged, and the Silver Tree that held other beast cookies beside himself, He was gone. Imprisoned. You felt the shackles around my own heart loosen, the suffocating heat recede. I was free. Free to raise my child away from the shadow of the Beast.

Golden Cheese Cookie found you months later, wandering, lost, and nearly due. her kingdom a stark contrast to the scorched lands you had fled. You became an assistant to her advisor general, Smoked Cheese Cookie, finding a quiet purpose in ancient scrolls and hushed consultations. Life settled into a gentle rhythm, the fear replaced by a quiet hope. Your belly swelled, a joyous burden, and you counted down the days until you would meet my child, their birth a true beginning.

The desert winds, usually so predictable, brought a chill to your bones one morning, not of cold, but of dread. Whispers turned to shouts, then screams. The news ripped through the palace like wildfire: He escaped. Burning Spice Cookie had broken free from the chambers of the Silver Tree.

Your heart seized, a cold terror gripping me tighter than any fear you’d felt in years. All the peace, the quiet hope, evaporated. He was back. And he would be looking for what was his.

You ran. The clamor of battle drew you like a moth to a monstrous flame. the very ground trembled. The sky was alight with violent energies, the air thick with the smell of ozone and burnt sugar. Golden Cheese Cookie, resplendent and defiant, faced him.

He was magnificent and terrible, exactly as you remembered, but magnified, as if his imprisonment had only distilled his raw power. His hulking form cast a monstrous shadow, the sinuous brands bordering his eyes glowing like embers. The flaming antennae above his brow flared with furious intent, spitting sparks that singed the air. His Soul Jam pulsed a malevolent red, and his parashu, twice as large as any Cookie, glinted ominously as he raised it high. He was about to bring the double-bladed axe down on Golden Cheese, his red sclerae narrowed in focus, that wicked grin stretched across his face, promising oblivion.

Without conscious thought, your legs propelled you forward. Everything became slow, muffled, except for the desperate thud of your own heart, and the precious life fluttering within you. You placed myself directly in his path, your arms instinctively rising, not in defense, but in a desperate, foolish plea.

His massive form froze. The parashu halted mid-air, casting a shadow over me. His burning eyes, those terrifying jasmine slit pupils, widened, focusing not on Golden Cheese, but on you, on the prominent swell of your belly. The fire in them seemed to dim, ever so slightly, replaced by an unreadable shock.

“You…” His voice, a low rumble like grinding tectonic plates, was laced with an astonishment that made the surrounding battlefield seem to quiet….