Fragile Desires (18+) (GxG)

Twenty-Nine | Cherry Pie

Sticky fingers and a dusting of flour across my cheeks—the familiar signs of a successful (or perhaps slightly messy) culinary adventure.

The scent of cinnamon and warm cherries hung heavy in the air, a delightful contrast to the usual sterile efficiency of the palace kitchens.

Today's agenda?

A cherry pie.

A dessert I'd only ever dreamt of after reading countless American cookbooks (much to the raised eyebrows of the palace chefs).

I was sixteen when I tried to convince my parents to allow me into the kitchen, which had been a battle in itself.

Royal protocol frowned upon such activities, deeming them unbecoming of a princess.

But the memory of devouring a handful of cherries, their sweet-tart juice staining my tongue a vibrant crimson, had ignited a spark within me.

I desired nothing more than to recreate that explosion of flavor, to transform those precious fruits into something more.

Following the tattered pages of a well-worn cookbook, I meticulously measured, mixed, and rolled.

The crust, a golden fortress, held a bubbling heart of crimson fruit and sugary goodness.

The oven, usually a foreign appliance in my world, became my companion, its warmth a silent promise.

The first bite practically melted in my mouth, sending my taste buds into a frenzy.

The flaky crust crumbling under the sweet-tart filling, a perfect harmony of textures and flavors.

It was unlike anything I'd ever tasted before, a symphony on my palate that echoed the cherries I had constantly chosen for a snack.

In that moment, I was a creator, a culinary artist who had defied expectations and baked her way into a world of delicious possibilities.

From that day on, cherry pie became my favorite dish to bake.

It marked the beginning of my journey in the kitchen.

- Azzy

♛Chapter Twenty-Nine: Cherry Pie♛

"Azura."

I looked over to Renata, who was now cutting lines down the dough while I remained seated on the counter with the bowl of washed cherries.

"Yes?" I hummed, chewing on the bite that I had previously taken from the cherry.

"We're not going to have any cherries left if you keep it up," Renata reminded me, her eyes meeting mine as she raised a slight brow.

I felt a pout unconsciously grow on my lips, "I only had five," I said, reluctantly sitting the bowl down to the side.

Renata's eyes glanced down to my pouted lips as she sat the knife down, "I can have someone go get more cherries?" she offered as she walked to stand in front of my dangling legs.