Time in the Immortal Realm passes by very, very quickly.

In Folkvangr, Gun Gun grew up with not an ounce of interest in banquets preferring his books and his training with both sorcery and sword over small talks. Small talks he could definitely get from those who dwelled in Folkvangr, those people who died in battle who were chosen by his mother to dwell in her halls.

He learnt far much more from them than in banquets - nevermind Fandral, Gun Gun always knew the only reason he was there was for the ladies - Volstagg and Prince Thor both were only there for food and be boisterous, Lady Sif was there out of obligation, and Prince Loki was there to sate his boredom.

His mother liked it that way too, and their halls, though plenty of cheer to be found, was not something one would usually hear to host banquets.

But now, though he did not want to, he had to.

His Enchantress Mother rarely asked anything of him and he wanted to do his best to avoid making her upset. It was only a little celebration after all - albeit one that would last for months - this was as easy as setting things on fire.

And thus, their borders were loosened once more. Rats weren't particularly very problematic, what with the very eager and bloodthirsty Asgardian princes in their realm. Granted, Jörmungandr was much calmer in nature than Fenrir, but really, that was only their outward appearance. The serpent only appeared calmer because he inherited much of his father's cunning, while Fenrir took much after his mother, Angrboða, who although an ice giant, was hot-blooded in nature - and what an irony was that.

But even then, despite Fenrir's and Jörmungandr's serious insistence that they have no desire to partake in the banquet, his Enchantress Mother had both dragged them by the ear all the way from the Northern Desert to their Halls in Eastern Qing Qiu - they actually planned to go hunting south for a bit to avoid it, but there was a reason the title of 'Enchantress' was attached to her Asgardian name. And that was not because of her beauty that enchanted others.

Jörmungandr actually seemed to resemble his father more and more as he was poked and prodded by the seamstresses. In fact, his frown was so large one could hang a kettle from it, figuratively speaking. Displeased he truly was, for he unknowingly exuded cold air again, frost creeping through the warm ground, hard and cold and unmelting despite it being summer.

This, undoubtedly, terrified the seamstresses out of their wits.

"Frown a little more and your face will undoubtedly look like the time your Uncle had to dress up as a bride," remarked his mother, casually sitting a few feet from them with a scroll on her hands. Fenrir choked on a laugh, and Gun Gun also had to cover the smile creeping up on his face.

Who did not know of the legendary tale of the stolen Mjölnir and eventually Prince Thor dressing up as the bride to the house of the giant þrymr?

"Of course, your father was just as displeased as him, but at least he only had to dress up as a bridesmaid," eventually, the frown was lifted off of Jör's face too, and it was only then his mother looked at him. She then glanced at the seamstresses, waving them away with a quiet dismissal which they thankfully followed. "Fenrir, Gun Gun, you as well."

Fenrir scratched the back of his head and took Gun Gun's hand. "Come on, squirt."

Despite the unwillingness, Gun Gun relented, if only because Jörmungandr was not really the type to get upset about things so much. Obviously, what with the droop of his frown being an indicator, they need some time to talk.

Gun Gun followed his brother figure out of his mother's halls and looked at the loquat trees that were planted by his mother. There were already a lot of fruits there, ripe for the taking, and almost instantly, both his and Fenrir's stomachs growled.

They looked at each other.

"It's bad to eat fruits before a meal," Fenrir stated, breaking the ice.

"Mother won't know."

Bai Zhen would find them hours later with dried juices stuck on their chin, incredibly sated, but with a foreboding stomach ache that could only be their retribution.

::

"Now, perhaps you can tell me what this is all about?" Feng Jiu started, calm and as still as the waters. There was no use to force it out of them, lest Jörmungandr - what with the wonderful temperament he inherited from Loki - might go skulking about and morph into his beastly form and not talk to her for a dreadfully long time.

Jörmungandr's face was still stony, and he refused to look at her. "It's nothing."

Feng Jiu suppressed a sigh. Good graciousness, stubbornness truly does run in the family.

"Jörmungandr," he drooped upon hearing her call his name. "I do not wish to force you to tell me, but I am worried. You have never disliked banquets, after all."

And this was true. This was why Feng Jiu found it most unusual when he groused with the most unpleasant frown she could only ever recall seeing on Thor when he forced himself in a bridal robe in her place. Jörmungandr, after all, took pleasure in hearing things, whether it be pure gossip or precious information, and hoarded it like a dragon would to shiny treasures.

The serpent's head hung low, and knowing that she had successfully coaxed him, Feng Jiu waited.

"It is Gun Gun's royal celebration. I think it might be better for me not to be there," it was when he finally touched scar in his face when she finally understood what was going on. Jörmungandr swiftly dropped his hand, aware that she was watching him and finally realized what was bothering him.

Feng Jiu rubbed her ears.

"No one is going to say anything, Jör."

"No one is going to say anything because you're there," he groused back, but he stayed still as Feng Jiu's hand lightly traced over the hideous scar.

Hellfire. It was an injury that scarred but neither healed nor ceased its torment. What most mortals can see was a big scar, but for immortals and gods alike, they could feel the miasma around the wound, thick and suffocating, and they likened it to those of the ghoul clan.

"'Tis a wound you received with nothing but valour and love. I have said this time and time again, but it is not something you should be ashamed of," she takes him into her chest and caresses the top of his head. "I protect you, and admire you of this scar, not because you are his son, but because you are one of the bravest people that I know."

"Always remember, Jörmungandr . That day, your bravery, none dared to come as close as what you did..."

At Feng Jiu's comforting words, Jörmungandr allows himself to remember of molten metals seeping down his head, the cold bite of the metal against his skin, the deafening roar of his beast, and the glassy eyes of his mother...

He cries.

::

A burden lifted from his shoulders, Jörmungandr was noticeably a lot more cheery. Although this version of his only meant that his signature frown was a lot less deeper, this was a significant improvement. He allowed the seamstresses to measure his robes, and even gave Feng Jiu leeway to put more embroideries on it, much to the pleasure of the goddess.

"How in the Norns do I feel the raging fire of passion? Like, where? Is it in my loins that will soon bear fruit? Or in my heart which will fuel those loins?"

Gun Gun looked disgusted. "I will pretend I never heard that."

"Gun Gun, I'm serious. I'm not a magic whiz like Dad or you and Teacher. I truly cannot comprehend what you are trying to say. It's either I am very inadequate, or... teaching just isn't for you."

"I dare you to say that again."

Unlike his father, and his brother Jörmungandr, Fenrir was, unfortunately, as he previously said, not very adept at magic. He inherited more of Angrboda's brute strength - which makes sense, with his form. While he had swordsmanship to fall back on, he lived by the mortal saying of "you can't put all your eggs in one basket". In his free time, he comes over to Gun Gun to learn magic.

Sadly, not all were born ridiculously gifted, both in the learning and teaching areas - really, Fenrir feels that the lack of progress is both of their fault, Gun Gun in the latter and Fenrir in the former. His teacher was usually free, but because of an anomaly up North, she and Jörmungandr investigated it and was gone from the Fox Hole these days.

"Where are you going?" Gun Gun asked, seeing him rise from his seated position. The training wand was already pocketed into his Qiankun bag, and Fenrir stretched, groaning in delight as the joints popped satisfactorily. "I thought you were asking me to teach you magic."

Fenrir dramatically sighed, mussing the top of the boy's head - which he terribly loathed so. "My dear boy--"

"I'm ten years younger than you. That's not a large age gap."

"--you are brilliant, but the path for teaching is not for you. Any longer I stay here, and I will grow some moss and mushrooms on my back."

"Such flowery words," scoffed the twit-- the young prince. "It appears that your poetry has improved."

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

Online classes killed me mentally, physically, and intellectually O.O I can count in one hand how many days I slept for more than four hours in this entire year. I'm honestly getting a bit worried as I had my check-up the other day and my blood pressure was 140/90. I don't know if that's a bad sign or just an effect of the combination of a shit ton of coffee and being super nervous.

I have developed a new hobby of popping whiteheads and is currently in the middle of buying a beauty soap so I don't destroy my face T_T

Me who is finally watching The Long Ballad: Hmm, what if A'Sun is Wen Chang Dijun undergoing a mortal trial?

And then me who also remembered that Wen Chang Dijun's character is thrown to the trash can and is currently leading a debauched life in one corner in the universe: Nah, nevermind. Maybe some other fanfic.

While we're at this, let's not forget to look forward to our Princess Didi's new drama, "The Blue Whisperer" and "Legend of Anle". As of now, the booting ceremony for Reba's new drama "Gong Su Ying Jing" was just held.

Don't forget to vote, comment and follow my profile!

Happy Reading!!!

~_star_shine_2004_