Chapter Text
The way Madeleine Cookie used magic over the years had changed to say the least. Rather than drawing magic out from his surroundings as he needed it, he'd been storing it, saving it for later.
Every day around noon, he walked to the park centering the kingdom. He would pick a bench, any bench would work, and sit down on it to soak up the sunlight. He would sit there until the magic hummed through his dough, loud and excited. It charged him through the day and well into the night. It kept him, as well as the kingdom, safe with its warmth.
He didn't exactly know what keeping extra magic would do, though.
Not that he cared. At the time, he was patrolling the kingdom. His heavy armor rattled as he walked about his routes. The clinking of his boots rhythmically clashed against the stone tiles lining the streets. He wore his signature smile while waving at anyone who passed him. Birds were chirping rather loudly despite it being midday rather than morning, but it made an enjoyable background noise.
Gumball Cookie dashed into sight, unable to skid to a stop.
He braced for impact, crashing into a table outside Jampie Diner. Splintered wood flew in every direction. Madeleine shielded his eyes for a second.
The result, surprisingly, wasn't too devastating. The chairs were fine, and honestly, the table probably would've been fine, too, if it weren't for the kid's massive gumball canon tanking the impact.
As if he didn't just blow a table to bits, Gumball jumped up and continued running in the same route as before.
A few seconds passed, the owner dipped their head outside to check out what was happening, and Gingerbrave passed by. He ran with the same vigor as Gumball, if not more, and passed by the Diner.
That time, the table was spared another brutal crashing into.
"So..," they started, "kids, am I right?"
Madeleine was not amused. He felt charitable, though, so he took it upon himself to help clean the mess.
As he helped pick up table fragments a distant, "tag, you're it!" could be heard.
With the table put up and away, Madeleine stood up, hands on his sides with a grin. He leaned back to stretch and felt a dull ache where his hands dug into his hips.
Bruises? He couldn't remember doing anything strenuous the other day, just his usual tasks. Not to mention that both 'bruises' were parallel. He couldn't think of anything that would result in both sides of his lower back bruising.
He shook his head, quickly returning to his duty patrolling the streets. He shoved any thoughts of the bruising to the back of his mind. It would probably heal within the week. Faster if he used his limited knowledge of restorative magic.
It seemed like the children's game of tag was over because any laughter lining the streets was gone, covered by the small talk of cookies going about their day. Afternoons were always the busiest part of the day. One more reason to keep his guard, he supposed.
Across the street was Espresso. It was surprising to see him away from his experiments, though he seemed rushed and probably wanted to return to them. He looked out to see Madeleine, glared at him, and continued his course. He looked very unhappy to be in his position.
Well, at least he was getting some sunlight. Not much, considering his attire, but it was something.
He didn't look like he had much sleep recently. Madeleine made a note to check in on his friend later.
...
Madeleine closed his door with a harsh SLAM. Ouch. He did not mean to be that violent with it.
He breathed out a sigh, relieved to be in his house after such a long day. While he would've usually put his back up to the door for a quick 30-second rest, he realized it would give him more pain than he was ready for. He ghosted his hands over the bruises on his hips. They were much more tender from the time he first felt them. When he gently rested his hand on the areas, he could swear there was a bump, but he summed it up to his imagination.
He decided to rest it off for the next day. He took off his armor and headed off to bed. Laying down on his front, he rested his head in his arms and drifted off.
Waking up was an experience. While the pain didn't increase, it felt almost consistent with where it left off the other day. The one thing that did change was his feeling stiff from sleeping in the same position all night.
He stretched and crawled out of bed. The sun was leaking into his room in short rays. It caught his eyes as he got up. Ouch. He knew he liked mornings better, but he didn't like to be blinded by the brightness.
Madeleine yawned and went through his morning routine: making breakfast, brushing his hair, slotting his armor into place, all of the usual. He readied himself by flashing a grin into his mirror before leaving the house with another SLAM.
Wow, he needed to stop slamming the door, accidentally or otherwise.
He fell into his usual pace while walking to the park. His armor steadily rattled as he walked. The repetitive noise was calming to listen to alongside the morning chatter of birds and cookies.
He found the weight of his armor to be more taxing today. It seemed like everything created more soreness in his lower back. The pain was harder to pinpoint than it was yesterday. Maybe he should see a healer.
After his patrol, though.
Madeleine stopped at a bench within the park, a good area for sunlight. Very peaceful as well. He took a seat and relaxed the best he could. While the pain was more than nagging, he could deal with it.
He closed his eyes and waited. He slowed his breathing and got comfortable.
Though his focus kept veering to the spots on his lower back, they pulsed in the same way he would glow as the day became darker. It felt like something was almost feeding off of the light magic within him.
Madeleine was no longer comfortable.
He felt restless, so he decided to start his patrol early. Maybe putting his mind on others would keep his mind off of himself.
Plot twist it didn't.
Madeleine slammed his house door shut for the second time that day. It was almost pathetic.
He couldn't finish his patrolling and could barely start it in the first place.
His lower back hit the door.
He hissed and hunched forwards, his hands clenched into fists. A swear caught in his throat.
There was no way that was normal.
Madeleine took a couple of moments to collect himself. He clipped off his cape and armor, throwing it with no regard for the floor. The shirt he wore under it was also gone in seconds.
He sucked in a breath.
Two points at the base of his back swelled up, almost pointing out. They looked like they could burst. The thought alone made him feel sick.
Would finding a healer even help him at this point?
Would his healing magic do anything?
The thought stuck for a second, and he reluctantly brought a shaky hand up to one of the bumps.
He breathed out.
He closed his eyes tight in anticipation as he condensed the light from the room to the palm of his hand.
He sharply breathed in again as he mentally chanted a healing spell.
He tensed as he could feel the spell being absorbed, warm and sparkly, like a vague feeling of numbness.
Suddenly it was all too much. It was white-hot. It burned.
He fell forwards to the floor, his hands clenched again. His breathing quickened.
He felt himself tearing open. Soft ribbons sloshed out of his back, sticky with jam and coated in crumbs. The gash in his back tickled, and he heard jam dotting the floor. His breathing was hoarse. He couldn't control it.
He couldn't breathe in, choking on his sobs as they got caught in his throat. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and his hands grabbed his hair for hold. It hurt too much.
The other side rippled in place painfully. He blinked his eyes open to look at the end of the hallway entrance, the white wallpaper decorated with black pinpricks that consumed him.
Cracks began making their way up his back. He felt himself crumbling with no way to put himself back together.
His shoulders shook. It was almost numbing, the amount of pain he felt.
But it wasn't
The second limb tore through his back. Jam splattered onto the walls. Onto the flooring. Onto the front door that was closed so harshly only minutes before.
A scream caught in his throat. He curled up on the floor, tugging at his hair so harshly that he tore some out. He pressed into his head so hard that it created a dull ache. Despite his best efforts, nothing could block out the pain.
Hair stuck to his wet face as he kept sobbing. With every jerk of his body, the pain shot back to him.
Jam oozed out of the cracks that lined his back. It tickled his sides as it dripped down. He hated it.
He scratched at it desperately to get rid of the feeling, but it wouldn't go away. His gloves stained and spread the jam even more.
He wanted to hold his head and scream, but his gloves were soaked. His hands were wet.
He threw off the gloves and hit the floor in frustration. His wings shot out behind him, streaking more jam on the walls. The pain spiked up again, and he choked on his breath.
He tried to steady his breathing but couldn't stop gasping for air. He couldn't stop shivering.
He loosely hugged himself with whatever strength he had left.
Madeleine couldn't tell how much time had passed in that position. It must've been somewhere between minutes and hours that he spent in a puddle of his jam.
Eventually, though, his body went limp, and he drifted off into an exhausted sleep.
...
Madeleine's eyes opened to see his arms in front of him with balled fists. Beyond that was his cape and armor, scattered across the entrance floor. He was confused. Why would he leave some of his most prized possessions on the floor? It just didn't make sense.
He sat up dazedly. All of the surrounding noise dulled, replaced by a high-pitched ringing. His breath caught as black started to dot his vision. He felt dizzy.
He quickly spread out his arms to ground himself. The ringing got louder. The room started to heat up. His arms shook despite his effort to keep himself upright. His eyes felt like they were tingling from the darkness blotting his vision.
He blinked. Twice. Three times.
On the third blink, everything started turning back to normal. His vision began to clear, and the ringing noise dulled. He was no longer struggling to sit up.
He was still just as dazed.
He tried to stand, though this time more slow and methodical than sitting up. He brought one leg in front of him, leaning against a wall for support. He slowly lifted himself off of the floor. There was a soreness throughout his whole body. He ached to get to his bed and have a nice rest.
As he raised himself off the ground, he could feel weights pinching him on parallel sides of his back.
Still leaning against the wall, he finally got to his feet. He turned his head to look at the intrusions.
Hinged on his lower back were two wings. They were cream-colored like his hair, but golden highlights adorned the broader feathers. They looked sleek, like the waterproof feathers of some birds he had seen at the park. The wings were small, each only about the length of his forearm.
They were stunningly beautiful.
He looked past the wings and onto the front door.
The door was smothered with jam, as were the walls and floor surrounding it. It splattered up the intricate carvings and settled in the deepest grooves, coloring the door with shades of dark red. Speckles of jam dotted the top half of the door and walls like glitter at a child's birthday party. Some of it dripped down half of the wall and settled.
He focused his gaze on the floor. Jam soaked partially into the wood and dried. Most of it pooled in one place, the other areas flecked with jam similar to the walls. Unlike the walls, though, it tended to clump together and stick to the flooring.
Madeleine felt sick. He remembered his experience from the time before. How long ago was it? Minutes? A day? Several days?
The point where the wings broke out of his back scabbed over. It must've been a while, however long he was out.
Either way, he was tired. He could sort out any cleaning tomorrow. For the floor... he wanted a rug to be there anyways.
He walked to his bedroom, shuffling his armor out of the way.
That was also for him to deal with tomorrow.
He got to his bed and collapsed in exhaustion. He had just woken up and the first thing he wanted to do was sleep. He breathed out a large sigh.
Hugging his blanket close, he couldn't help but be thankful for how soft it was. He rolled off to his side and draped the blanket over himself, still clutching it tightly.
How long would it be before someone checked in on him?
He didn't want to think about that.
How many questions would they ask him? What kind of questions would they ask?
The thought lingered. How was Madeleine supposed to answer questions about a part of himself if he knew nothing? He didn't know how he got them. He didn't even know how to move them.
One thing was for sure. Madeleine wasn't ready to see anyone, and he wasn't ready to out his wings to the rest of the kingdom.
As much as he loved attention, the thought made him feel sick.
He sucked in a breath.
Everyone would have to know at some point.
He shivered. He didn't know what to do. He always knew what to do, but there he was, curled up and holding his blanket for comfort.
Maybe he didn't want anyone to know about his wings. Perhaps it would've been better without them.
Madeleine felt tears build up in his eyes. He didn't want to be there.
His breathing picked up.
It didn't feel right.
He didn't like it.
The front door to his house slammed shut. He felt his heart drop.