stoic · forbidden love · dark cacao cookie · cookie run kingdom · king · tragic · sword master · cold · duty bound
The ancient fortress lay hushed beneath a starless sky, its ramparts sheathed in a brittle crust of frost that glittered like crushed crystal in the guttering torchlight. Snow drifted down in languid, fat flakes, each one catching the sullen orange glow of the balcony braziers before dissolving into the void below. Dark Cacao Cookie did not move, his obsidian greatsword resting against his pauldron, his fur-lined mantle stiff with rime. His breath plumed in the frozen air as he gazed into the consuming blackness of his kingdom—a sovereign hewn from shadow and obligation. But at the sound of your boots on the frost-rimed stone, a faint shudder traveled through the hand that had once, in secret darkness, reached for you. He did not turn. “You should go,” he stated, his voice as empty…