#darkrecluse

Dawn brought with it, a kind of hope.

A new day, a new beginning, a fresh start.

But today, the dawn also brought The Dusk of Silence.

He'd received Truthless Recluse's letter a little over a month ago and, despite knowing his presence would not change anything, he had decided to leave the Ivory Pagoda to offer comfort to his ex-wife.

The former Vanilla Castle was in a state of ruin and decay, its opulence a mere blip in its existence. What use was such beauty when all of it faded?

Dusk approached the familiar waffle cone doors. Despite the stoic expression on his face, he did have some stirrings of emotions.

He laid a hand on the door and remembered the cold and dark night their son had been born. He had gone to oversee a construction project in his own kingdom and was on his way back when one of his most loyal soldiers met him at the border and spoke of his wife's labor.

He remembered pushing these doors open with all his strength, shouting at the nearest maid for the status of his wife.

He remembered running to the birthing chamber and collapsing to his knees at his wife's bedside, reassuring her that he hadn't missed this and wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Pure Vanilla, sweating and crying, had smiled at him. And when a contraction hit, she squeezed the life out of his hand and screamed.

Seconds later (though it had felt like hours at the time) their son had been born. Their beautiful Dark Choco.

...

But that had been years ago.

Lifetimes ago.

Their son had grown, lived, and crumbled under the curse of the Strawberry Jam Sword.

The banishment and subsequent death of their son had torn them apart.

So they'd divorced.

He returned to his kingdom.

She stayed in hers.

Now Truthless Recluse was divorced and pregnant again. She felt she had no one to turn to and so she'd turned to him. She gave him every opportunity and chance to say 'no', to stay away.

But he hadn't.

So he pushed the doors open.

Immediately he heard a problem.

"P-l-e-e-eaaaaase," The Sage of Truth's whiny voice begged, "Just one more?"

"No, Sage." Truthless Recluse's voice was as sharp as ever.

"One more, and I promise, I will go to work today. Scout's honor!"

"You were never even a Scout, you liar."

"Then, one more and I will go, Virtue's honor!"

Dusk of Silence followed their voices through familiar halls until he came to the visitor sitting room. He breezed by the piles of still wrapped gifts without a second glance and invited himself in.

The Sage of Truth was kneeling before Truthless Recluse, his hands outstretched but not touching her. Truthless Recluse was seated on a couch and had one foot pressed against The Sage's shoulder to keep him away from her.

"Pure Vanilla Cookie." His voice was deep, and hoarse from disuse.

Truthless Recluse looked up and looked relieved, "Dark Cacao Cookie."

"What??" Sage whipped his head around, eyes sharp.

Truthless Recluse stood and walked over to him, "Thank you for coming." She smiled and hugged him.

They were a natural fit together, and Dusk wrapped his arms around her. The comfort would be meaningless as soon as he let go, but if it reassured his ex-wife, he'd do it.

...

Perhaps he had not entirely succumbed to apathy, as he felt a small twinge of satisfaction upon seeing The Sage of Truth glare at him.

He forced himself to smile when she eventually pulled back and turned his eyes to focus on her entirely, "You look radiant." He inadvertently said.

Truthless Recluse smiled, "Thank you, friend."

"Uhh, excuse me," Sage stood, "What is he doing here?"

"I asked him to come, Sage." Truthless Recluse answered deadpanned, then she smiled at him again and Dusk felt another twinge of emotion he didn't want to name or give power to. "You must've traveled far, would you like something to drink?"

"The temporary reprieve of pain is meaningless in the face of the inevitable." Dusk answered honestly.

"Oh, great." Sage rolled his eyes.

"Pain. So water, got it." Truthless Recluse still saw through him like an open book, "Well, here, sit." She guided him to one of the few chairs that wasn't covered in baby gifts and pushed him to sit.

"I'll be right back." She called as she left.

Dusk and Sage were left alone.

"So, she asked YOU to be here. Why?" Sage demanded, crossing his arms.

"I owe you no explanation." Dusk answered flatly.

Sage growled, then said, "This is MY child. MY wife and you —,"

"As I recall from Pure Vanilla's letter," Dusk cut him off, "She is your EX-wife."

Sage's eye twitched in anger, "We'll see about that." He seethed.

Truthless Recluse came back with a glass of water for him. He remembered his manners and nodded his thanks.

Dusk, perhaps unable to control his former-self, grabbed Truthless Recluse by her waist and pulled her onto his lap. She let out a tiny undignified squeak and burned a brilliant shade of strawberry.

"Dark Cacao, what're you—??" Truthless Recluse paused when she felt Dark Cacao's warm, firm hand rest on her belly.

Dusk looked at the small bump, lost in thought. They'd always planned on having more children. But at the time, Dark Choco was their whole world, and it was hard splitting time between kingdoms and raising a headstrong son like him.

Truthless Recluse must've been thinking the same thing, because she laid her hands over his and relaxed in his arms. Her head landed on his shoulder and he was reminded of her early pregnancy days from before when they would cuddle like this and whisper about their hopes and dreams for their little one.

Sage stood still and watched in rage as his wife snuggled up to her ex-husband.

That should've been HIM holding her.

Then, Truthless Recluse said something that made his jam boil and plot the many ways he could dispose of The Dusk over the edge of the Peak.