This was to be the final day of Arcann Tirall's life.
In even his darkest imaginings, he had never thought it would ever end like this.
He and Thexan had faced off against a dozen knights when they were children. They had spearheaded a war against the Empire and Republic simultaneously. He had attempted to kill his father, the Immortal Emperor of Zakuul, twice. He had waged war against the Outlander and their Alliance. He had found himself at the mercy of his mother and the Outlander, the two people in the entire galaxy who had the most right and reason to want him dead… So many ways his life could have ended, and yet it had come to this.
It was not a question of if, so much as when. Was his remaining time best measured in minutes or hours? Would his death be swift and decisive, or would it be the slow torment that he fully deserved?
Arcann slumped further into his chair, eyes darting over the information on the datapad currently hanging loosely in his hands, hoping futilely that he had been mistaken. He had not.
It was his mother's birthday.
Scyva save him, he hadn't remembered. The day was nearly over, he had already seen her multiple times—times when she had to have noticed that he had neglected to wish her a happy birthday, or give her a gift, or…gods, his death was definitely going to be slow and agonizing.
Could he go wish her a happy birthday now? No, too little, too late; he would need something more to earn himself the mercy of a swift death. A gift then? Perhaps if he gave her something impressive, he could escape his fate. Honestly though, what could an ex-tyrant with no skills besides hacking things to bits with a lightsaber and not a credit to his name, possibly give to the mother that he hadn't seen in more than a decade? Even if he could think of even a single thing that she might appreciate, even if he actually had any credits with which to purchase a gift, it was getting far too late for anyone to be out selling anything on the Alliance base.
Perhaps his time would be better spent drawing up his final will and testament. That was a stupid idea too. He literally owned nothing but the clothes he was currently wearing.
Who was he kidding? What did he expect? That he could go marching into her quarters, present her with some fantastic gift, and she would throw her arms around him in joy, and they would spontaneously throw a massive party, complete with cake, and streamers, and balloons, and…CAKE! Izax's fist, he could make a cake!
The fingers of his real hand flew over the datapad, pulling up a recipe from the holonet that was supposedly "the best chocolate cake ever." He could do this. Yes, YES! He could do this! The recipe was only five steps, he could follow five steps. He may survive this day after all!
There wasn't a moment to waste! Arcann all but ran to the Alliance kitchens, earning him a few suspicious glances from those he passed, but he ignored them. Soon enough, he stood alone in the kitchens (the few people who had been there when he arrived had quickly scurried off when they saw the look of fierce determination on his face), taking a deep breath, Arcann went to work.
Step 1: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Spray two 9-inch round pans with cooking spray.
Arcann quickly turned on the oven, before digging through the numerous cupboards for the necessary pans and the cooking spray. With both finally located, Arcann wondered how exactly he was supposed to spray the pans. Did you spray just the bottom? The inside? The entire pan? And how much should you spray it? With a frustrated huff, he decided to play it safe, and thoroughly doused the pans, inside and out, with the spray.
Step 2: Add flour, sugar, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda, and salt to a large bowl. Whisk through until combined well.
Alright, 2 cups of flour, 2 cups of sugar, ¾ cup of cocoa. He opened the cupboard and looked up at all of the different cups. Should he use one of the plastic cups they used for meals? A disposable caff cup? A wine glass? He grabbed one of the plastic cups and measured out the necessary ingredients.
Each of the last three ingredients were measured in teaspoons. There was a different spoon for tea? Unsure of what spoon one was supposed to use with their tea, Arcann pulled out a normal spoon and measured out the remaining ingredients. Then he used a whisk to stir the different powders into each other.
Step 3: Add milk, vegetable oil, eggs, and vanilla to flour mixture and mix together until well combined. Carefully add boiling water to the cake batter and mix until well combined.
He set a pan on the stove, measured out the water, and set it to boil. Then, using the cup from earlier, Arcann measured out the milk and oil and added them to the bowl. Next, he added two eggs, then used the spoon to measure in the vanilla, and then stirred it with a wooden spoon. When it was combined, he poured in the now boiling water, and stirred that in as well.
"What in Izax's name are you doing?"
The former emperor all but leapt out of his skin as the Zakuulan pilot, Koth, sauntered into the kitchen and peered apprehensively at the batter for Senya's cake.
Arcann crossed his arms over his chest, "Baking." He replied curtly, before remembering that his mother had told him to be friendlier to the members of the Alliance. "Today is Senya's birthday. I am making her a cake." He added hastily.
Koth took the wooden spoon and stirred the batter a few turns, observing the thick gloop and uncracked eggs that occupied the bowl. "This is for Senya, huh?" A smile ghosted across his lips and he handed the spoon back to Arcann. "You're supposed to crack the eggs, get'em aaaallll mixed in. Looks good though!"
Taking back the spoon, Arcann thanked the pilot, then got to work crushing the eggs with the spoon and mixing them into the batter. Koth left, grinning.
Step 4: Distribute cake batter evenly between the two prepared cake pans. Bake for 30-35 minutes.
It would seem that the hardest part of the cake was over. Arcann sighed with relief as he dumped the batter into the pans and put them in the oven. As he waited, Arcann searched through the cupboards, and offered up a quick prayer of thanks to Scyva when he found a tub of pre-made chocolate frosting.
When the timer went off, he removed the cakes from the oven. He most definitely did not scream from the pain of grabbing the pan with his flesh-and-blood hand. How in Izax's name did people with two real hands survive baking with this type of pain?
Step 5: Allow the cakes to cool in their pans for 10 minutes, then remove from pans and cool completely. Stack cakes and frost.
Ten minutes. He glanced down at his red and blistered right hand and calculated the distance to the medbay. Yes, ten minutes would be enough.
He hurried down the corridors, injured hand cradled against his chest, and soon arrived at the medbay. A pained growl sent the one nurse who braved approaching him fleeing in terror, and he snatched up a tube of kolto gel from a second, much more frightened, nurse.
Arriving back at the kitchens, his hand freshly covered in a thick layer of kolto, Arcann used the force to turn the cakes out onto the counter. He frowned, testing the temperature with the back of his real hand, the cakes were still quite warm, but it was getting late, and he couldn't risk Senya going to bed before he gave her his cake. He didn't have time to wait for them to cool, so he stacked the cakes onto one another atop a plate and began frosting his creation.
Twenty minutes later, the keypad beside Senya's door chimed, and she broke into a smile as she sensed her son on the far side of the door. Her smile turned to a befuddled confusion as the door slid open to reveal Arcann, his face and shirt covered in what looked like cocoa powder, holding the ugliest cake she had ever seen in his left hand, his right glistening with an excessive amount of kolto gel applied over a painful looking burn.
Leaping into action, Senya snatched the cake from her son and placed it on the small desk built into the far wall. Then, seating Arcann on her bed, she took his injured hand carefully between her own, and began fussing over him, ignoring his protests that he was fine.
When Arcann's hand had finally been bandaged to Senya's satisfaction, she turned her attention to the cake. The second layer of the cake sat haphazardly atop the first, the shape of the cakes making it impossible for them to possibly stack neatly. Frosting was smeared across the monstrosity, melted away and slimy in places, hinting that the cake had not been cooled before frosting. In some attempt to make the cake look more appetizing, a handful of chocolate bits had been sprinkled over the top, now in various stages of melting from the heat of the cake. Senya pursed her lips and wondered how she could escape eating it without hurting her son's feelings.
"Happy birthday, mother."
Forcing away her apprehension, Senya turned to her son with a smile and pulled him into a somewhat awkward hug. He had tried, bless his little heart, he had definitely tried. That was what mattered. To have her son here, doing his best to do something special for her birthday, it meant more to her than words could describe. And perhaps the cake would taste better than it looked.
Disengaging himself from the hug, Arcann pulled a fork from his belt and offered it to her, excitement and nervousness sparkling in his eyes. She took it from him and turned to the cake. With a deep breath to steel herself, she dug the fork into the cake and placed a bite in her mouth.
Scyva have mercy, it crunched.
The cake was dense and dry and altogether horrid, but it was in no way crispy…there was something in the cake that crunched. It took every ounce of willpower that she had not to choke and spit it out. She stared down at the dessert in horror, spying a rather large piece of eggshell poking out from where she had just taken a bite.
"Arcann…did…did you crack the eggs before you put them in the cake?"
He shrunk down into himself a bit. "I forgot to, at first, but when I realized my mistake, I cracked them."
Oh, her sweet, precious, former-ruler-of-the-galaxy, and far-too-sheltered son. Had he ever even been in a kitchen in his life?
She placed a hand reassuringly on his shoulder, "Thank you, Arcann. I'm touched."
His face lit up, "You like it, then?"
"Of course, I do." She lied, smiling warmly at him, "Next time you bake, we should do it together, though."