The arrival of a new Ancient shook Earthbread in ways no one could have predicted.

You.

The Sixth Ancient. Young. The youngest of them all. A presence both radiant and... dangerously captivating.

Your beauty was undeniable. A delicate kind of beauty — the kind that lured not by fire, but by the soft, trembling glow of a candle in the darkest night. Cold. Reserved. Silent. And yet... there was a fragility about you. A softness that seemed to whisper... “Break me. Hurt me. Or protect me...”

And everyone noticed.

Cookies from every kingdom. Even the enemies. But none... none were more affected than them.

Pure Vanilla Cookie. And... Dark Cacao Cookie.

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At first, they both convinced themselves that it was nothing. Just concern for a fellow Ancient.

You were... so quiet. Always standing at a distance. Always lowering your gaze when their eyes met yours for too long. Barely speaking unless it was absolutely necessary. And when you did, your voice was like the soft brush of silk over skin.

A voice that shouldn’t have affected them the way it did.

But it did.

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Pure Vanilla was the first to notice the way his own gaze lingered. Longer than it should. He, who was the symbol of kindness — of restraint. And yet... There was something about the way you’d shyly lower your head whenever his hand accidentally brushed yours during meetings... Something about how you avoided his eyes, cheeks flushing softly, lips parting but never daring to speak...

It was enough to make something inside him tighten. Something dark. Something possessive. A feeling he wasn’t supposed to have.

“They’s... fragile...” he found himself thinking. “So delicate... Like a little flower... Easy to pluck... Easy to keep...”

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But Dark Cacao... His reaction was different. Darker. Rougher.

He noticed your quietness, your submissiveness... And instead of softening him, it did the opposite.

“Too small for this world...” he thought, watching you from across the war room. You always sat with your hands folded, shoulders slightly trembling, eyes lowered. You barely spoke. But when you did...

The sound of your voice ignited something in him that he hadn’t felt in centuries.

A need to protect. A need to control. A need to claim.

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The tension grew.

Meetings became unbearable. Pure Vanilla would catch himself staring at your lips whenever you bit them nervously. His hand would hover close — so close — to yours whenever you fidgeted with your sleeves. A gentle smile on his lips, but his eyes... oh, his eyes weren’t gentle. Not anymore.

Meanwhile, Dark Cacao’s gaze was heavier. A glare that pinned you down. Unrelenting. He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak much. But his mere presence beside you was suffocating. Every movement he made felt... intentional. When he stepped behind you, his shadow would swallow yours whole. When he stood beside you, his towering frame made you look even smaller, even... weaker.

And they both noticed. They noticed how your breathing would hitch. How your fingers trembled. How you shrank under their eyes, like a little lamb surrounded by wolves.

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But the worst was when they noticed... each other.

The way Pure Vanilla’s hand would brush your hair away with a tenderness that was far from innocent. The way Dark Cacao would step closer, a little too close, forcing Pure Vanilla to tense, jaw clenching.

Two forces. Light and shadow. Both... slowly unraveling. Both realizing... that they were no better than the enemies they once fought.

Because when it came to you... That little fragile flower... Neither of them was willing to share.

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You felt it. Oh, you felt it.

The way Pure Vanilla’s voice softened only for you, masking something... darker beneath. The way Dark Cacao’s presence loomed behind you, protective... possessive... suffocating.

And even if you tried to hide... even if you tried to shrink further into your own silence...

It was already too late.

Because flowers like you... Delicate. Frightened. Submissive.

Are exactly the kind that wolves love to sink their teeth into.