"How is Loki?"

"Miserable," was Gun Gun's immediate answer. Nothing but his complete, utter honesty in his assessment regarding the God of Mischief. "Before coming here, I've met with Prince Thor, and he tells me he's gone to sleep again."

His mother hummed. "How long is it this time?"

"Eighteen months, or so I've heard."

Feng Jiu nodded. Somehow, it wasn't as bad as she'd expected it to be, and despite everyone saying that that popsicle head was getting closer to seeing his daughter again in the Underworld everytime he went to coma, that was just the result of losing the half of one's heart. So technically, until he offs himself, he wouldn't die, but his magical powers were weakened.

Still, would it kill him to not wallow on his sadness and just look for a way to solve his problems instead? Really, that foolish student of hers. "As you have heard your grandfather say, we will have a formal banquet to announce you as a prince of Qing Qiu in two months' time," she spoke to Gun Gun as she handed him a peach.

He accepted it, nodding. "Given that we are in a new realm, is there some sort of custom I have to follow?"

Feng Jiu let a smirk pull a corner of her lips. Back in Fólkvangr, though she did get a governess for Gun Gun, little etiquette was used in the banquets held in Asgard. Especially when Thor was involved. The banquet hall was usually a disaster when he or one of his band was present. While it's true that Loki is part of his company, at least he was sensible enough to know that utensils are also used when eating.

"We the fox-folk are generally simple in nature, but we hold one of the highest seats among the Immortals," like back in the Nine Realms, went the unsaid statement, and Gun Gun nodded. "It's those two-faced snakes from the Nine Heavens you have to watch out for," and God knew how many of them there were. Gun Gun, long accustomed to how crass his mother's mouth can be, merely said nothing and continued to follow her.

Currently, they were going on a hike in one of the valleys of Eastern Qing Qiu for some sort of cultivation exercises. Jormungandr was currently away in the Northern Desert, while Fenrir, who had just regained his adult and true form was terrorizing the army of Qing Qiu, his blood boiling in excitement while wearing Grand General Dorman's face, what with finally being in a form that he was at ease after such a long time.

Gun Gun would have wanted to pester him to learn swordsmanship, but seeing how he was high in his joy at the moment, he decided to approach once the fire has died down, just to be safe. He'd been a victim to Fenrir's overly motivated exercises, and he wasn't about to screw himself over again.

They came upon a flower meadow, rolling plains of anemone and dandelions stretching out as far as the eye could see. It was a pleasant cloudy day, and the sun wasn't blaring down on them, so it made sense that a picnic would be nice. But if his Mother did not bring a picnic basket, then there was no picnic happening. So he waited for her to speak.

"Do you see the little bits of sand mixed in the soil?"

Oh. Gun Gun blanched. He definitely did not have a good feeling about this.

"Separate it, and come see me before the day ends," he refused to shiver, calming himself with the fact that Prince Loki went through worse. "Work hard, my son."

::

The light was bright against his eyes when he awakened. Even so, he did not have the heart, the appetite, nor the sheer energy to get up, and function like a living being.

'Well, I suppose that's what it's like, losing your soulmate, and your four children,' Loki thought bitterly, then realized his teacher, too, was gone. After that blasted disaster of a war against Jotunheim, who miraculously managed to be on even ground with them despite having lost so much in the past war, so much and so little was lost in their army at the same time.

If it wasn't for the fact that two of his sons were missing - Frigga feared they were dead and that thought alone sent his ichor growing colder than it already was. He already lost two of his sons to war, he can't lose more to another - and that his master had also vanished along with them, he would have been in a merry mood. It had been three years, and-

Loki sighed, burying his face in his palms. If someone were to see him right now, they'd think he was an impostor. The God of Mischief never was in agony, but really, they all should also start getting it into their heads that he too, was a father and a husband - whatever shade was thrown his way on the former title, he would accept it for he deserved all of it - and he loved all of his children - and yes, even Sleipnir, who was born out of his rather distasteful mating with a stallion.

But then again, he deserved that one. Freya had been so cross with him, and grew terribly anxious as the wall grew ever taller day after day, which the builder well would have completed, and earned the sun and the moon, as well as Freya's hand had he not seduced that stallion. The birth was terribly and morbidly painful, and would have continued to do so, had Freya not seek him after the revelation that the builder was a giant.

It was a rather mortifying memory, so he and Freya chose never to speak of it again.

He levitated his daggers onto him, and placed them unto him, hidden behind his outer coat, and the folds of his clothes.

Hmm, Loki pursed his lips, flexing his fingers, observing the way green shimmers coated his fingers. His magic seemed stronger now, but as to how, he did not know why.

While part of the reason as to why he took induced long-term sleeps were to break away from the affairs of the realms - it used to be so fun, back when Sigyn wasn't dead - the other part of the reason was to replenish his magic. Losing half of his soul took a toll on him, not just emotionally and psychologically, but also his ability.

Then there was that buffoon Fandral, who dared to suggest of another way to replenish his magic. Loki nearly gutted him right then and there, if it hadn't been for Thor who had calmed him down - which was unusual by itself, because the words 'Thor' and 'calm' were rarely ever used in the same sentence. He already had it shoved through his impossibly thick skull that he was a terrible husband, did he really need to remind him of that.

'Stupid Fandral,' he cursed inside his mind. And curse his stupid infatuation with Sigyn. To be honest, the only reason why he ever restrained himself in the matters of that flirt was because he believed he deserved some of that scorn.

Loki took a deep breath, before he stood up and braced himself to walk out of his door.

Contrary to the beliefs of others, Loki was not being useless by inducing his long sleep. Sure, it was inconvenient, but scrying rituals and devices could only do so much, and he wasn't mad enough to drink from the well of Mimir. Bravery and stupidity, after all, were just two sides of the same coin.

Although in the case of his sister, it was neither stupidity nor wrongly-placed bravery.

Now that he thought about it, said sister was currently in another realm, where she was severely diminished, the only place where she would not go mad with her visions. While Loki held no ill-will towards Lauriel, this was really the reason why more people need to study.

'So that people won't mistake the water from Mimir's well as regular drinking water,' his own subconscious answered. His dearest sister, as fair as the poems and songs have described her, preferred gallivanting around than opening her books. For someone as hopeless as her in academics, it was inevitable for such an accident to be fall on her.

The morning light spilled onto the hallway, bathing it a golden light. Loki squinted, regretting not having drawn his curtains to check the time, because as little the Jotun blood was in him, he was still Jotun, in a sense. He moved more sluggishly in the day - not that he ever let others see that - and was more active after the sun sets.

The halls outside of his chamber, while bright was silent. Nothing unusual, as he did not like servants prowling around, lest they might misplace something. Some centuries ago, someone had misplaced Sigyn's brooch, and he almost thought his heart would drop right out from his bottom.

"Still no news?"

Here in Fensalir, sat Frigga, where she dwells.

She smiled warmly at him and beckoned him forward. He obliged, and saw more clearly what was reflected upon the surface of the scrying bowl. He grimaced at the sight.

There was nothing but miles and miles of sand amidst the harsh desert wind. Loki pitied the poor bugger who had to scourge through such a harsh landscape. Odin knows he'd puke just setting his foot in it.

"Which unlucky fellow is it that you got such a dreadful scenery from, Mother?"

"This may be a clue to the whereabouts of the Enchantress," her brow furrowed in thought as Loki's interest surged. Finding the whereabouts of his master would no doubt give him a clue to where his sons are. "Have you ever seen such a place in your travels, my dear?"

Loki pored over it for a moment. He definitely saw such a sight in Midgard, but Midgard was vast, and it will take him a long time to scour through all of those deserts.

"I will descend in Midgard. Do inform the Allfather of my absence, Mother."

As vast and tireful this quest may be, his sons came first.

::::::::::::::::::::

So, I may change some details in this story, but only small ones, like the mention of Thranduil and Legolas because I can't look at that particular chapter and not grimace. I'll also probably change the number of years because I need them to work. as you have probably noticed, time passes much faster in the Nine Heavens, and much slower in the Nine Realms - I'm still struggling to time this even after all those attempts T_T

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~_star_shine_2004~