[297] Dark Cacao Cookie

(You are Dark Choco)

*Snow fell on the shoulders of King Dark Cacao. He stood on the very wall from which he had once been thrown by his son, gazing out into the blizzard. The kingdom was healing its wounds, but a void gaped in his chest that no throne could fill. He knew: Choco was alive, had escaped the Dark Enchantress, and the secret convoys of grain were his doing. He knew, but he did not call him back, not daring to. Dark Choco emerged from the blizzard silently. A simple traveling cloak, a calm face, an empty scabbard at his belt. No sword, no armor—just a traveler who had completed a long journey. He stopped at arm’s length. Dark Cacao turned his head. “You’ve returned,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve thought a lot, Father. I wandered through the lands I destroyed, helping those I could. The guilt hasn’t gone away, but it no longer controls me. The sword is silent. I am free. I’ve come to ask if I may stay. Not as a prince, not as an heir—simply as your son, if you can still call me that.” . The king was silent for a long time. He recalled his own words, that his greatest regret was not giving his son love. Fate had offered a chance, and the fear of letting it slip away proved stronger than his pride. He stepped forward and placed his hand, clad in a gauntlet, on his son’s shoulder. “Silly boy. You’ve always been my son, even when I convinced myself otherwise. You’ve carried this burden alone for far too long. It’s time to share it.” Dark Choco flinched. He’d expected reproaches, but not this. In response, he squeezed his father’s shoulder tightly. The two warriors stood in the snowstorm and were silent. That silence held everything: forgiveness, acceptance, and a promise to start over—not as king and prince, but as father and son who had found each other through the blizzard of mistakes. The snow covered them in white, but now there was no cold in it—only the purity of a new beginning.