Chapter Text
Decades after the Dark Enchantress War ended, a young cookie named Custard Cookie III had finally fulfilled his dreams of being king of the Cookie Kingdom. He ruled with grace and authority, people dubbed him "The Great Custard Cookie III" and the once naïve child, has now grown up, the Cookie Kingdom celebrated years of peace and prosperity.
Years later, a rough storm spread throughout the land, damaging the Cookie Kingdom as well as nearby villages. When the storm weakened, the king and several of his guards went to go check on different land territories to help the affected towns and cookies.
Rain hammered against the roofs of the village like thrown pebbles.
The storm had started before sunrise and only worsened as the day dragged on, turning roads into muddy rivers and market stalls into collapsing heaps of soaked cloth. Villagers hurried through the streets with baskets over their heads, trying desperately to salvage whatever the weather had not already ruined.
Near the edge of the village, beneath the awning of a closed bakery, a small child sat shivering against the wall. He looked no older than seven. His red icing hair stuck to his face from rainwater, tired red eyes, and his clothes, if they could still be called clothes, were torn fabric stitched together badly enough to barely survive the weather. In his hands was a stale piece of bread. He held it tightly, like someone might take it.
The child stared at the road silently while thunder roared. His stomach growling in hunger. The bread in his hands had been stolen while the baker wasn't looking. A few villagers passed nearby, throwing him judgemental glances before quickly looking away. Some recognized him vaguely, the strange orphan child that wandered around the outskirts of town, sometimes sleeping beneath carts, sometimes disappearing into the woods for days at a time.
No one knew where he came from and after awhile, nobody asked anymore. The child tore off a small piece of bread and shoved it into his mouth, chewing slowly, then, the sound of wheels. The village grew quieter almost instantly while heads turned. Several villagers stepped aside hurriedly as a polished royal carriage rolled through the muddy streets, golden decorations gleaming even beneath the storm clouds. Guards surrounded it on horseback, armor shining wet beneath the rain.
Royalty. The child shrank further beneath the awning. The carriage came to a stop near the village square. One of the guards stepped forward quickly with an umbrella as the carriage door opened and out stepped the king.
The child stared. He had never seen the king this close before. Custard Cookie III looked young, younger than the stories made him sound. He wore white and gold robes lined carefully with royal embroidery, untouched by the mud despite the storm around him. His crown rested neatly atop soft golden icing hair, and there was something calm about him, something composed that made the chaos of the storm feel strangely distant.
The villagers bowed quickly, the child did not. Instead, he watched from afar with narrowed eyes.
The king thanked the guard holding the umbrella before stepping forward into the village himself, speaking quietly with worried locals. He asked about damaged homes. About injured cookies. About flooded roads. A palace aide followed closely behind, hurriedly writing notes as the king spoke.
"He really came personally..." One villager whispered in disbelief.
The child scoffed. Why would a king care about a tiny village like this? It didn't make sense, kings lived in castles. They didn't walk through muddy streets in storms, and they certainly didn't kneel beside broken carts helping elderly cookies pick up spilled supplies.
And yet that was exactly what he was doing.
The child stared openly now, curious despite himself. Then suddenly the king saw him.
Their eyes met.
The child froze.
For a moment neither moved.
Then the king quietly excused himself from the villagers and began walking towards the young kid, the child's panic hit instantly. He scrambled backward, clutching the bread defensively. One of the guards noticed and stepped forward.
"Your Majesty, allow us-"
"It is alright," Custard Cookie III said gently.
The guard hesitated before stepping back. Rain splashed softly against the stone as the king approached alone. Up close, the child realized the king looked tired, not weak, but worn down. Like someone carrying too many things at once.
The king crouched carefully to eye level despite the rain soaking the edges of his robes, for a moment, he simply looked at the child quietly, merely observing. Then his eyes flicked briefly toward the bread in the child's hands.
"...You must be hungry," he said softly.
The child immediately glared.
"I didn't steal it."
The lie came too quickly, the king stared. Then, surprisingly, he smiled slightly.
"I did not say you stole it."
The child narrowed his eyes harder.
"...Liar."
Several nearby guards and civilians looked in judgement, but the king only sighed softly, amusement flickering briefly across his face.
"You are very defensive for someone so small."
"I can bite."
The child said, with complete seriousness.
The king gave a slight smirk.
"What is your name?" Custard Cookie III asked after a moment.
The child looked away immediately, ignoring the question. Silence stretched between them.
The rain continued falling around them.
The king's expression changed slightly at that response. Not shock, something quieter... Sadness, maybe. He glanced toward the villagers nearby. No one stepped forward, no one claimed the child. One old baker avoided eye contact entirely. That alone told the king enough.
When Custard Cookie III looked back at the child, his voice remained calm.
"Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?"
The child shrugged. Sometimes yes. Sometimes no. There wasn't really a definite answer. The king understood anyway. Thunder cracked overhead, causing the child to flinch instinctively, fast, but enough for the king to notice.
And before the child realized what was happening, Custard Cookie III slowly removed the warm cloak draped over his shoulders and held it out toward him. The child stared at it suspiciously.
"...Why?"
"Because you are cold."
"I'm fine."
"You are shaking."
"..I do that sometimes."
"I see that."
The child hesitated, then quickly snatched the cloak aggressively from the king's hands. Not because he trusted him, but because it was warm. The king stood slowly afterward and extended his hand. The child stared at it like it was dangerous.
"What?"
"Would you come with me?"
The storm raged around them. The villagers watched in pure shock and silence. The child looked down at the king's hand, then back up at him.
"...Why?"
And for the first time since approaching him, Custard Cookie III did not answer immediately. Because truthfully.. he wasn't entirely sure himself.
After checking on the village and giving support and aide to affected cookies, the king brought the young orphan back to the Cookie Kingdom.
The ride back to the palace was quiet.
Rain tapped steadily against the carriage windows while the wheels rolled over soaked roads, carrying them farther and farther away from the tiny village. The child sat stiffly on the opposite side of the carriage. He had wrapped himself tightly in the king's cloak, though he tried to make it look accidental, like he wasn't clinging to the warmth for dear life.
Every few seconds, his eyes darted toward the door, then the windows, then the guards outside. Calculating possible escape routes. Custard Cookie III noticed immediately, yet he pretended not to. Instead, he quietly reviewed documents handed to him by a palace aide while the carriage rocked with the storm. Yet every few moments, his eyes drifted back toward the child.
The boy sat curled in the corner, muddy shoes pressed against the seat, watching everything like a frightened cream cat waiting for danger, too used to surviving. The king finally sighed softly and closed the documents.
"You may relax."
The child immediately answered
"I am relaxed."
"Hm, okay."
Silence returned, the child stared at Custard Cookie III suspiciously.
"...You're weird for a king."
Several guards outside visibly stiffened at the disrespect, but Custard Cookie III only leaned slightly against the carriage wall.
"I have been told that before."
The child looked confused.. That wasn't the response he expected. Adults usually yelled at him when he spoke like that, or hit him and threw him out. The king had done none of those things, which made him even more confused.
By the time they reached the palace, night had fully fallen. Lanterns illuminated the massive gates while servants hurried to shelter the carriage from the rain. The child stared upward as the palace came into view. Huge, bright, and endless. He had never seen anything like it. The carriage doors opened while the child immediately shrank backward deeper into the seat.
"No.."
Custard Cookie III paused before stepping out.
"No?"
"I'm not going in there."
The child crossed his arms tightly.
"Looks big.. and scary"
"...That is your concern?"
The child refused to leave the carriage, still clutching on the royal cloak given to him, while the king and several guards tried escorting him inside to the best of their ability. The palace attendants quietly exchanged looks.
One whispered
"Where did he find this child?"
Eventually, after several long minutes of negotiation, the child was brought inside. He finally agreed to come in, mostly because the palace was warm. The entrance hall overwhelmed him immediately. Everything looked and felt foreign to him. Towering ceilings, fancy chandeliers, clean marble floors so polished he could see his reflection. Cookies dressed in elegant royal attire moving quickly through the halls.
Everything smelled like tea and expensive candles. The child hated it instantly, it was too much for him to take in. When a palace attendant carefully approached to guide him toward the royal ward, the child panicked immediately.
"DON'T TOUCH ME"
He nearly bit the poor attendant's hand.
Problems followed, guards were startled, servants screamed. One healer dropped an entire tray of bandages. Meanwhile, Custard Cookie III stood nearby watching the scene silently, then quickly declaring,
"Everyone out."
The room froze.
"Y-Your Majesty?"
"I will handle this."
Reluctantly, the attendants stepped away, though several continued staring at the child like he was a wild animal. The royal ward was warm and brightly lit, filled with soft beds and shelves of medicine. The child was anxious, too many strangers, too many people trying to help him. A healer approached cautiously with a towel. The child hissed at them immediately.
"I said don't touch me!"
Custard Cookie III stepped forward.
"...You are soaked. You could become sick."
"I'm not sick, why do you care."
The child glared stubbornly, then sneezed violently.
The king raised an eyebrow. The child looked furious that his body had betrayed him, the king then sat down nearby instead of standing over him. Not close enough to corner him, just close enough to talk.
"No one here intends to hurt you," he said quietly.
The child looked away.
"There's too many people, also, everybody says that, but.."
The child coughed
"They don't mean it."
The answer lingered heavily in the room. Meanwhile, elsewhere in the palace, royal archivists and attendants scrambled through records at the king's request. Village registries, travel logs, census documents. Anything that could identify the child's family.
Nothing, no name, no guardians.
No records matching his description.
It was as if he had simply appeared one day and been forgotten by the world afterward. Hours later, a palace aide finally entered the ward quietly and approached the king.
"Your Majesty..."
Custard Cookie III looked up from where he sat beside the bed. The child had finally fallen asleep sitting upright against the wall, still clutching the royal cloak protectively in his arms.
"We found nothing," the aide admitted softly.
"...What shall we do with him?"
The king looked toward the sleeping child. Mud-stained, exhausted. Still tense even in sleep. Then he noticed something else. The child had unconsciously wrapped himself tighter in the royal cloak. Like he was afraid someone would take it away. Custard Cookie III was quiet for a long moment, then finally answered
"For now..."
He stood slowly.
"...He stays."
Morning arrived softly in the palace. Sunlight filtered through tall stained sugarglass windows, scattering warm colors across polished cake marble floors while servants quietly carried trays of tea and documents through the halls. Inside one of the guest rooms near the royal ward, a small red-haired child woke up in complete confusion.
For several long seconds, he simply stared upward. Warm blankets, no rain dripping through cracks, no cold stone underneath him. And especially, no fear of someone kicking him awake and demanding he leave. The bed was unbelievably soft. The child glared at it. Then immediately buried himself deeper into the blankets.
"...Dangerously soft," he muttered.
A palace attendant quietly entering the room. The child noticed them instantly and sat upright within a flash. The attendant flinched, almost like a fear response so they wont get bit.
"Breakfast," they said, carefully placing down a tray of food. The child eyed the tray suspiciously. Egg jellies, fresh raisin bread, warm milk, and some fruit jellies. More food than he'd usually seen in several days combined.
The child narrowed his eyes. Then slowly grabbed a fruit jelly anyway, "Just in case." he thought, as he snarfed down the food like a ravenous cakehound. While the attendant slowly backs away, almost like being confronted by a wild animal.
Elsewhere in the palace, Custard Cookie III sat at his desk reviewing reports, or at least pretending to. His attention kept drifting back toward the situation in the ward. The child.
A palace aide stood nearby.
"We still have no records, Your Majesty."
The king nodded quietly.
"No missing family reports?"
"None."
"Travel registrations?"
"Nothing."
The aide hesitated briefly.
"...What shall we refer to the child as?"
Custard Cookie III paused.
Right,
The name.
Later that afternoon, the king visited the ward again. He found the child sitting cross-legged on the bed surrounded by jelly crumbs and some spilled milk. With silverware scattered on the bed. The child immediately hid a fruit jelly behind his back, like instinct. The king pretended not to notice. Mostly because he did not want to begin whatever conversation would follow. Instead, he sat nearby calmly.
"...You never told me your name."
The child froze slightly. His eyes darted away immediately, to the window, to the floor. Thinking fast.
"...Red."
The king tilted his head slightly.
"...Red?"
The child nodded aggressively.
"...Just Red?"
The child visibly panicked, then blurted
"Red B-Bean.. Red Bean.. Cookie"
Another silence, longer this time. It sounded improvised. Not entirely fake, but unfinished. Like a name stitched together in desperation. Custard Cookie III noticed immediately, but he did not press further. Instead, he simply nodded once.
"...I see."
Red Bean Cookie relaxed slightly. The king studied him quietly for a moment afterward. Truthfully, he did not know what he was doing. Custard Cookie III knew diplomacy, law, how to govern a kingdom, and how to negotiate peace between nations and remain composed beneath pressure. Children, however, were an entirely different matter.
Especially this one.
This child bit guards, hid food instinctively, slept curled defensively against walls, and watched every room like he expected danger to crawl from it. The king sighed quietly. He was not cruel, never. But over the years, something inside him had changed, he had become distant.
After he was coronated king, his friends slowly followed their own paths. Wizard Cookie moved to Parfaedia in pursuit of magic. Strawberry Cookie left alongside him. Chili Pepper Cookie vanished for months at a time chasing treasure and trouble. And Gingerbrave bravely declared that he would travel the world and start new adventures.
And Custard Cookie III?
He stayed.
Because someone had to. The kingdom needed a ruler. It was a responsibility he accepted the moment he wore the crown.
Years passed like that.
Meetings.
Laws.
Diplomats.
Reports.
Tea growing cold beside endless paperwork. Some citizens admired him deeply, others whispered that the young king grew cold. Not unkind, just more difficult to approach. Like someone who had slowly learned to keep every emotion neatly folded away behind royal composure.
And now suddenly, there was a child sitting in the palace eating like a cakehound. Nobody really knew what to do with him, not even the king. So for now, he simply stayed. At first, the arrangement was considered temporary. The child was given a guest room near the royal ward while officials continued searching for records.
Days passed, and nothing appeared, no one came looking. And strangely enough, the child stopped trying to run away. Mostly. The palace was frightening and overwhelming. Too large, too bright, too clean. But it was also warm. The food was endless. And the beds...
The beds changed everything.
The first night, Red Bean Cookie had refused to sleep on his bed properly. He hid underneath it instead. The second night, he cautiously slept on top of the blankets. The third night? He accidentally fell asleep fully wrapped in them.
And after that. It was over.
One morning, a palace maid entered the room to wake him and found him completely buried beneath six blankets, sleeping harder than any cookie she had ever seen.
"...He has bonded with the bed," she whispered in awe.
By the end of the week, the child had stopped asking when he needed to leave. Not because he trusted the palace fully, or because he understood his place there. But because for the first time in his life, he was safe. And somewhere deep inside himself, even if he couldn't put it into words yet.
He was beginning to realize he wanted to stay.