Hot Chocolate & Marshmallows: Part One (complete)

The Cauldron Mountains sit steaming in the distance, so hot that even the snow doesn’t rest on them. The people who live there, the Caldera, are known to be strong, resilient, and terrifying. They are said to be extremely tall, with bodies that are capable of withstanding the heat in the Cauldrons. They have rich dark skin that is beautiful to behold, charmed to keep them safe from the heat.

Ever since I was little, I have been mystified by the stories of the Caldera. My family has done trade with them for generations, though they are rarely seen - they always send a liaison to do business for them, since they don’t like leaving the Cauldron Mountains for colder regions. My mother tells me the Caldera are extremely proud, and they don’t want to show their weakness away from their beloved volcanic region.

My family are confectioners; candy and sweets have always been our trade. We moved from Pirlipat to Drosselmeyer to build our factories and get closer to the Caldera, for it is the Caldera who make the most sought-after confection of all: chocolate. Deep within the Cauldron Mountains, they use the veins of heat to temper chocolate. My great-great-grandfather started a relationship with the Caldera because he wanted to provide the best chocolate known to mankind. It took him months to finally build favor with the Caldera people. When he did, they appointed the liaison to do their business, since the Cauldron Mountains were too hot for my family, and the snowy fields of Drosselmeyer too cold for the Caldera.

Recently, my father has been working on a secret project, toiling in the kitchens day and night to create a new sweet for the upcoming holidays. I’ve tried to give him my ideas, but my father is quite stubborn and has been hesitant to let me take more control of the business. Since I was young, I was so excited to take over the family business. I wanted to create sweets to bring joy to the darkest times, sweets the world would talk about long after I was gone.

But ever since the passing of my big brother, my father has been against the idea of me, the youngest, becoming the heir. My brother was everything my father wanted - strong, handsome, and intelligent. I was a disappointment - pretty, soft, and sensitive. I enjoyed ballet, art, and fashion alongside my deep love of cooking. My father says I should have been born a girl. But I am a man, even if I do prefer the ‘feminine’ as my father puts it. 

I’m closer to my mother anyway, and she loved my brother and I just the same. She taught me to cook and bake, how to make confections that aren’t only mouth-watering but beautiful to the eye. She is truly the mastermind of my father’s success, but he can’t accept that, hence his present anxiety in the kitchen. 

One afternoon my father calls us into the dining hall, where he intends to present his newest confection. I sit beside Mother while he serves us each a plate with a rather unassuming slice of chocolate cake on it. “Go ahead!” He claps his hands together excitedly. “Try it, try it.”

“I was expecting something much grander, dear,” my mother says sweetly, “the way you acted, I mean. You make chocolate cake all the time.”

He laughs and nods. “Yes, yes, but this is different! Just try it and you’ll see.”

I take a bite. Nothing seems remarkable about it. It’s just chocolate cake, although there is a flavor missing, something that makes the Caldera chocolate so wonderful.

“What do you think?” My father leans in close as my mother and I try to work out the cake’s secret.

Mother dabs her mouth with a napkin. “It’s fine, dear. What are you so excited over? Your cakes are always good.”

My father seems fit to burst with glee. “You can’t tell the difference, right? It tastes just as if I used Caldera chocolate, right?”

“Dear, you’re going to strain something,” Mother teases. “Tell us the big surprise before you’re on the ground.”

“It’s fake!”

“Fake?” I shake my head. “The cake isn’t real?”

“No, you silly boy! The chocolate is fake! I have created a synthetic chocolate in the kitchens that is indistinguishable from the chocolate we get from the Caldera! If we can produce this, we won’t need to do trade with the Caldera anymore.”

My mother’s fork slides from her hand and clatters against her plate. The look on her face is exactly how I feel inside. “Dear,” she says calmly, knowing getting flustered will only provoke him. “Have you thought about this?”

“Of course I have! We’ve been trying to find ways to save money, correct? And this would cut down on so much expense! The price, the transportation, all of it! And people won’t even notice. You didn’t.”

My mother and I silently weigh whether to tell him the truth. We both know that if we say that something is lacking in the cake, he will say it’s because we’ve been trained in that sort of thing. Regular folk won’t notice! His mind is set, and we can’t change anything.

Afterwards, my mother and I are left alone to discuss the situation. We both know this could spell trouble. For years, our trade with the Caldera has worked well. If it’s suddenly cut off for a shoddy replacement, the Caldera have every right to get angry.

“He’s not thinking clearly. He doesn’t see the scope!” I stomp back and forth across the floor. “The Caldera won’t take this lightly.”

“No, they won’t.” My mother has been fretting like this for a long time. “He’s not thinking about the people, only the accounts.”

“He’s thinking about himself, Mother.” I turn on my heel to look at her. “You can admit it to me!”

My mother sighs heavily, brushing her white curls from her face. “Your father is a businessman, darling. That is how business operates.”

I grimace at the thought. I would never want to be like that when the business became mine. “Well, what are we going to do?”

“We’ll send word to the Caldera. I think it would be prudent for them to present their side of things to your father. They deserve a say in what happens to their business as well. I know they rely on us. Who knows what would happen if their income was taken away from them?” She goes to her desk and pulls out her quill and paper. “We’ll send the liaison, and hopefully they will come back with a reply for us.”

Weeks later, we have heard no word back. Already my father is planning a massive sale on all our chocolate products so we can rebrand for his new masterpiece. I am trying to hide my discomfort from him, but it is growing more and more difficult each day. His plans for the new formula feel like a blow to everything my ancestors have built. I have to walk away from him and his scheming.

As I go down the corridor, I see a strange sight through the window. Coming along the road is a procession led by massive black oxen. Golden flags wave in the air as a grand carriage pulls up before the house.

I run down to the foyer, where my mother is already at the door. Rushing up behind her, I see the Caldera liaison approaching us. He bows to my mother and I, then gives us a strange, concerning look. “The royal family of the Caldera is here to speak with you personally.”

“My goodness!” my mother exclaims in shock. “Because of my husband?”

The liaison nods. “They are upset that he is trying to create a weak substitution for their centuries-old recipes. They take it as a dishonor and a threat.”

I step around him, walking out to the carriage. There is a guard standing beside the door who is twice my size. He is dressed warmly, but what I see of his skin is dark and beautiful. There are raised patterns and gold piercings on his face, and his long hair comes down in thick dreadlocks decorated with gold twine, charms, and beads. He’s tall, but sturdy, with giant arms and legs and a solid middle. He glares down at me with amber-colored eyes and sneers.

I bow to him. “I am Mero, heir to this house. My father is the one you have come to see, but let me assure you, I am on your side in this matter.”

From inside the carriage, I hear a husky voice speak heated words to the guard in a fluid language I do not know. The guard steps aside, opening the door, and a tall figure steps out. My eyes lock with hers, and I am instantly stricken. I have never seen someone so beautiful before, nor someone who could so easily crush me into a ball like paper.

“I am Princess Candela. And as far as I am concerned, your father and my mother are now enemies.” 

I stare almost slack-jawed at Candela. I’m so taken with her beauty, I’ve lost all thought. She’s much taller than I am, and her skin seems to glow from within. Her long hair hangs in many braids coated in gold or decorated with ribbons or charms. She, too, is covered from head to toe, but her face and neck are exposed, showing the raised marks along her face and jaw.

“That’s fine,” I wheeze, trying to regain control of my body. I clear my throat and cough. “You have every right to be angry at my father. That is why we contacted you to begin with, so that you can present your argument.”

She scowls. “We don’t have an argument, we have a wrong that needs to be righted.” She steps off the carriage and comes close to me. “Your ancestor promised mine loyalty. Your father has betrayed not only us, but his own heritage.”

“I said I agree. You don’t need to explain things to me.”

From the carriage, someone calls Candela. Candela turns, replying in their native tongue. Then her eyes land on me again. “Mero, is it?” she sniffs.

“Yes.” My voice cracks.

“I hope these proceedings will work out. It would be a sad thing for someone so pretty to pay for their father’s mistake.” She goes back into the carriage, and the guard steps in front of the door again.

“Pretty?” I feel flustered and warm all over as I head back towards my mother and the liaison. 

When my father arrives in a panic, he grabs hold of my shoulder so tightly that I know there will be bruises later. 

The Caldera refuse to come inside. Instead, they begin setting up tents on the lawn. They start building fires so they can warm themselves, and the entire yard is alight with flames. My father is fuming, and refuses to dismiss my mother and I while he pitches his tantrum.

“You would not listen to reason, dear,” my mother says. “This is the only way you would understand the effects your actions would carry. Hear them out.”

“It is my business!” he fumes. “I get to decide what I do with it.”

“You do business with others as well, and you can’t decide what they do with theirs. This is an insult to them, dear, don’t you see that?” My mother should run this company, and I have always known that.

I’m finally sent away as she tries to calm him down. I go into my room, shutting the doors and undoing the buttons of my shirt. As I strip everything off, I see someone sitting before my fireplace, and quickly clutch my collar around my throat. “Who goes there?”

Princess Candela looks over the back of the chair at me. “I let myself in. I hope you don’t mind.” She nods at the window then stands up. She’s still wearing her coat, but it hangs open, showing off the white dress beneath. The raised marks go down her chest and legs, and she wears a gold bangle around her neck. 

I feel breathless being alone with her. “What are you doing here?” 

“Normally I would be fighting you and bringing you to the ground, crying.” She tosses her braids over her shoulder. “But I find myself drawn to you for a different reason.”

“Thank you?” I am unsure whether I should be terrified or aroused.

Candela stands before me, one hand on her hip while the other reaches out to touch me. Her long, dark fingers brush against my pale skin. “You are very soft.” Her fingertips go over my lips and down my chin to my neck. A coy smile spreads across her lips. “So pretty.”

“Thank you.” My breath catches in my throat. “You’re beautiful, Candela. Much more than I could ever be.”

She smiles with pride and caresses the skin under my eye. “I could tell from the way your pupils dilated. I wanted to make sure your attraction didn’t cloud your thinking.” She takes her hand away and frowns. “Did you speak the truth earlier?”

I nod. “Yes, of course. I think what my father did was very wrong, and that is why my mother and I sent that letter to you. It isn’t right, and I don’t think his substitution will make a good product. Cheap ingredients may be good for the pocket, but they aren’t good in the long run. He’s rushing it, and I…”

Candela presses her finger to my lips. “I did not expect a pretty thing like you to have his own mind,” she grins. “I expected you to be a decoration. That is my fault. Your father would have us believe that imitation is flattery, I am sure. But he is spitting in the cauldrons of my ancestors and the recipes they created long ago.” She withdraws her finger and takes her seat before the fire again, and I join her. The way the fire reflects on her skin makes me long to touch it, but I know I should keep my hands to myself. 

“I want to help you. I don’t want this company to lose the Caldera chocolate. It’s as important and integral as our name. It would be a shame to go into the future without you.”

Candela smiles at me. “My mother is out for blood. I warn you, this may turn into something your father cannot handle. If you were in his shoes, what would you do?”

My heart is in my throat, and I swallow it nervously. “I am in this situation. But if I held the reins of it, I would suggest something quite drastic.”

Candela leans in. “Go ahead, tell me.”

“I would suggest my father step down.”

Candela tilts her head. “But wouldn’t that mean you take control of the business?”

“Better me than him, right?” I chuckle breathlessly.

Candela leans in, cupping her hand around my face and pressing a long, hard kiss to my lips. I move closer, putting my hand around her waist. Her hand grazes down my exposed chest, touching my bare skin as her tongue traces my lips.

“What was that?” I gasp.

“Attraction.” Candela pulls her hand back. “Both of us are being pulled together. Can’t you feel it?”

“Like fate?” I ask breathlessly. 

Candela kisses me again, and I hungrily meet it. The kisses go on for what feels like hours. We cannot keep our hands off each other. If I were to stop, I would feel like a fool turning away a goddess. Why someone like her would even glance at me is baffling. I am short compared to her, extremely pale with a round face and soft body. I am not the robust, glowing, giant she is.

“I should go, before my absence is noticed.” Candela kisses me one last time. “I will make your suggestion to my mother. She may be willing to withhold her anger if an ally held the business.”

I walk her to the window. “I don’t want it to seem like I am ungrateful to my father, but I don’t want to lose what the Caldera bring to the table.”

Candela buttons up her coat again before opening up the window. “Hopefully, you won’t.”

She slips from the window, and I close it again, my mind still swimming from our kisses.