Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Princess Iron Fan switched the T.V. off when she heard heavy footsteps echoing up the hallway. The bedroom door creaked open behind her.

“I was so worried.” Her voice cracked.

For a few moments she was met with silence.

“My love,” A deep voice eventually answered her in low, quiet tones, “I thought you would be asleep by now.”

“Is that why you didn’t call?” Iron Fan ran a hand across her eyes, smearing her already running mascara, “Is that why you didn’t send a quick text to tell me you weren’t dead?! Because you thought it might wake me?!”

“Shh!”

“Don’t shush me, you-!” Iron Fan jumped from the couch and spun to face her husband, her rage now fully ignited. Her boiling anger was brought down to a controlled simmer, however, when she saw the thin body he cradled carefully to his chest.

“Is… is he okay?” Iron Fan’s voice went quiet.

“Oh, he’s fine- I think,” The Demon Bull King shifted his son’s weight onto his right arm to hold up his left hand in reassurance, “From what I can tell, he’s just asleep. He got us back here, then was out like a light. I was going to put him to bed, but I came to check on you first.”

Iron Fan folded her arms.

“Well that’s very thoughtful of you, but you should have dealt with him first, I’m sure I could have waited to know that my husband and son weren’t killed by demon spiders for a few more minutes!”

“Darling-”

“No, no, I get it, I know how easy it is for something like that to slip your mind, I’ll just stay holed up here in the fortress wondering if my men are alright as they go off fighting monsters like the princess I am!” Iron Fan turned her back on her husband and strode over to her dresser, wiping her ruined makeup off as she went, “Just let me watch the city get torn apart on the news without a single bit of contact from either of you, that sounds like a great time!”

The Demon Bull King winced at her sarcasm. He had never seen his wife so emotional before, and made him feel a way he was not familiar with and did not care to be.

“I am sorry, darling,” He said as she picked up a face towel and began sobbing into it as she dabbed at her streaming mascara, “Please don’t be angry-”

“No, that’s for you to do, isn’t it?” Iron Fan snapped, “You’re supposed to be the angry one who won’t listen and won’t tell me if he’s still alive!”

“...Why are you so mad at me?” The Demon Bull King asked softly.

Iron Fan threw down her face towel.

“Why do you think I’m mad?! I’m sick and tired of losing you!”

The room fell into silence, save for Iron Fan’s tear-choked, angry breathing, the Demon Bull King’s heavy huffing and Red Son’s light snoring.

“... I’ll... I’ll just take Red Son to bed he’s completely exhausted and he seems to be getting kind of cold so...” The Demon Bull King turned and walked out of the room before Iron Fan could protest. He wanted to slam his head into the wall for coming up with such a dumb excuse- Red Son getting cold? It would take extreme temperatures to make the boy even slightly chilly.

He carried his sleeping son to his room, a sense of deja vu washing over him. Distant memories of years, thousands of them, ago. He’d made this same trip before, carrying a drowsy baby, a yawning child, a burnt-out teenager... now this young man, fast asleep.

Why did this make his heart ache? He was just carrying his son to bed, a perfectly normal thing for a father to do...

The Demon Bull King felt tears well up in his eyes.

He’d forgotten. While the memories themselves were not gone and still easy to recall, but the feeling, the emotion, it had been gone. In the time he had been trapped, the memories of what it was to be a father had been buried far deeper under the Bull King’s own personal mountain.

He was remembering now.

The Demon Bull King stepped into Red Son’s bedroom and lay him down on his bed, carefully taking off his shoes, glasses, coat and belt. Seeing that his son seemed sufficiently comfortable, the Bull King pulled the blanket over Red Son’s slowly rising and falling chest.

He was about to leave and close the door behind him when he heard a sleepy:

“Fa- Father?”

“Red Son!”

The Demon Bull King was at his son’s bedside in two swift strides. Red Son rubbed his tired, near-sighted eyes as he half sat up.

“Did I fall asleep?” He asked groggily.

“Yes, and you should go back to sleep,” The Demon Bull King said, “You are exhausted.”

“I...” Red Son trailed off as his father turned to leave.

“That girl,” The Demon Bull King paused in the doorway and looked back over his shoulders, “The young dragon; she said you were a hero.”

The room was shadowy, but even in the dark shades the Bull King saw crimson creep across his son’s face.

“Perhaps... perhaps you can tell me about that one day.”

“There’s nothing to tell!” Red Son rolled over in bed to face the wall.

The Demon Bull King closed the door and strode back to his own bedroom- or his wife’s, if the Princess ordered him to the couch for the night.

He found Iron Fan in a much more characteristic state of cold calm. She sat on the bed in her night clothes, face now free of makeup, ruined or otherwise, hair loose, shrouding her form as a long ebony curtain. She didn’t even look up as her husband entered the room.

The Demon Bull King sighed.

“I won’t do it again.” He said.

Iron Fan turned her head slowly, lifting her eyes to meet his.

“You will not lose me again,” The Demon Bull King said, “I promise.”

Iron Fan gave a small smile.

“That is not a promise I think you can keep- but it is the thought that counts.”

“Are we... are we good?”

“Yes, my love. We’re good.”

Chapter Text

Red Son woke up, and his mind immediately began racing.

What time was it? Had he slept in? Was he supposed to be somewhere? Did his parents think he was lazy, or stupid, and would this be the straw on the camel’s back that caused their entire lineage to be thrown into disgrace, exiled from their fortress and forced to live for the rest of eternity as worthless peasants?!

Then he remembered. He’d saved everyone from the Spider Queen. His father was proud of him.

Red Son relaxed, rolling onto his back and gazing up at the ceiling. He breathed slowly in and out, a smile spreading across his lips. His father was finally proud of him. Everything was finally fine.

Just as long as it could stay that way…

The memory of that dragon horse girl suddenly surfaced in his mind, her words making his guts squirm: “Your baby Red Boy did real great hero work today!”

Red Son curled into a ball, cringing silently. Gah, why had she done that?! She’d embarrassed him in front of his father! Just when he’d been proud of him too! Red Son hoped that if he never brought the girl or what she’d said up again, his father would let it be. He had questioned Red Son on it last night, but he’d managed to deflect, he could do it again if it ever came up.

It wouldn’t come up, he decided, he would bury that memory deep in his mind and never bring it up ever again. He wouldn’t think about it. He wasn’t thinking about it.

Unfortunately Red Son found that not thinking about it took a lot of effort and made him even more uncomfortable. Not thinking about not thinking about it wasn’t much better.

Time to get up, he decided. The easiest way to ignore an unwelcome thought was by distraction.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“It’s fine, darling,” The Demon Bull King said, “I can use a stove.”

“Yes, but the last time you did was-” Iron Fan began.

“A stove is a stove, I can figure it out,” The Bull King gestured for her to stay seated, “Now, uhh… where do I light the fire? Why... why are you laughing?"

"Oh honey," Iron Fan hid a chuckle behind her hand, "Hold down the knob and twist it."

The Demon Bull King did as she said, drawing in a sharp breath of surprise when the blue propane flames leapt up around the burners with a hiss.

“…Perhaps kitchen appliances have progressed beyond my understanding since the last time I used one.” He said, after a few moments of wonderstruck silence.

“How on earth did you manage to work on a food truck without burning the whole festival down?” Iron Fan watched from her seat at the kitchen bench as he carefully placed a wok of oil on the stove.

“I let our son do most of it,” The Demon Bull King lifted a few sticks of dough from a tray, dropping them into the oil as it began to bubble, “He… he’s good at it. Better than I ever was.”

“Hmm,” Iron Fan laced her fingers together, “You know, I think I do remember the last time you cooked something. I threatened to ban you from the kitchen if you ever made pork like that again.”

“I don’t remember that,” The Demon Bull King turned away from the stove, crossing his arms and glaring playfully at his wife, “I was not an extraordinary cook, but I know our son’s talents had to come from somewhere, and they certainly didn’t come from you.”

Iron Fan stood up, wind swirling into her hand and becoming solid in the form of her namesake fan.

“Do you want to repeat that?” She raised an eyebrow, her piercing gaze flitting up and down, as if sizing her husband up. She smirked- the Demon Bull King knew that meant she considered him an easily defeated foe.

“Well, you know,” He put his hands on his hips, squaring his massive shoulders, “A little princess like you would never get your hands dirty in a kitchen.”

“Wha- little?!” Iron Fan cried.

“Oh, wait, no, darling I-”

“Just because you’re bigger than me doesn’t mean I’m little!”

“Dear, you know I didn’t mean it like that, I would never imply that you are anything less than perfectly sized-”

“Oh I am going to break every single one of your bones!” Iron Fan batted her fan in the Demon Bull King’s direction, sending a gust of wind to hit him square in the chest. He narrowly missed hitting the stove as he went down, slamming onto the stone floor.

“I think I’ll start with the legs,” Iron Fan said as he sat up, rubbing his head, “That way you won’t be able to run when I destroy the rest of you.”

“Forgive me, Princess,” The Demon Bull King smirked, “But if you want to break my bones, I would suggest attacking the smaller ones. They might be more manageable for you.”

Iron Fan stared at him with blazing eyes- then chuckled and blinked the anger from them, “You have nerve, Demon Bull King.” She reciprocated the smirk.

“A lot less than you, Princess Iron Fan,” He held out a hand to her, “Let’s make a deal. I won’t call you little, and you won’t break my bones.”

“That sounds like a truce I can make,” Iron Fan took her husband’s hand, helping him up, “I-ah!” She was cut off as the Demon Bull King lifted her off her feet.

“Mm, no I lied,” He grinned, spinning around as he cradled her in his arms, “Look at you, you’re so little!”

“Put me down!”

“Hmmm… No.” The Demon Bull King went to dip her.

At that moment the kitchen door flew open.

“Stop fighting!” Red Son cried, bursting in.

The Demon Bull King straightened up, breathing heavily, Iron Fan blushing in his arms.

Red Son froze in the doorway, blood rushing to his cheeks as he took in the scene before him.

“Oh,” He said, stepping backwards, “That’s… that’s… you weren’t fighting, that’s not fighting that’s the opposite of… is… is something burning?!”

A heavily awkward silence pervaded the room as the Demon Bull King became aware of the sound of oil sizzling and the smell of burning food.

“Oh my Niúshén the youtiao!” He ran to the stove, putting Iron Fan down in a way so rushed that it was more like he flung her out of his arms, arriving at the stove just as the smoking wok went up in flames.

"...Ah!" He stepped backwards, scanning the room for something to extinguish the fire with. His eyes fell on the sink, and he went to grab the wok handle just as Red Son dashed under his arm and slammed a lid over the wok.

"There!" He gasped, "That should... put it out. What were you thinking?!" Red Son suddenly turned to his father, pointing his index finger up in the general direction of the Demon Bull King's face as he scolded him, "The oil should have never reached that temperature! Why weren't you using a thermometer?! Why weren't you watching it?! This is basic kitchen safety, I can't believe... you..." He trailed off as he saw the look in his father's eyes.

The Demon Bull King loomed over his son, an expression of silent outrage on his face, his brow furrowed, jaw clenched tightly. Red Son became very aware that he had just told off, actually told off, his father. He felt the sickening, though familiar feeling of realising he was in trouble.

"I... It's fine, I'll just clean everything up and make another batch, it's fine." He mumbled, turning his gaze downward and turning back to the stove, switching the gas off a tentatively lifting the lid off the sizzling, but fortunately not flaming, wok.

"Come, my love," Red Son heard his mother say, "Our son clearly has this under control- I think we'll be in the way if we stay here."

Red Son heard his parents leave the kitchen, closing the door behind them. He drew in a deep, shaky breath, blinking his suddenly stinging eyes.

What a fool he was, to have thought everything was fine. He had ruined everything. His parents had been having a moment, and he'd interrupted them, and then he'd gone and ruined his chances of being in his father's good graces- what would he have to do to make it up?

Red Son carried breakfast into the dining room- congee with fried greens and what Red Son considered a reasonable amount of chilli, as well as some not-burnt youtiao. He found his parents sitting close together at the table, utterly engrossed in a conversation Red Son didn't care to hear that they barely looked up as he came in.

He served them their meals and took his back to the kitchen.

He knew when his presence was unwanted.

Chapter Text

As the day went on, tensions within the household relaxed. Red Son joined his parents for dinner that evening.

It was an oddly silent meal; nobody talked. Not a huge amount, anyway. Strange, that. It was their first meal together as a family for quite some time, with no plans of world domination, plucky bands of heroes or mind-controlling bone demons to worry about. It should have been... livelier.

As the family finished their painfully silent meal, the Demon Bull King finally found something to say and break the silence.

"This was... a nice meal." He addressed Red Son, doing his best to sound positive. He still felt bad about burning the breakfast and knew his son was upset with him- why else would he have avoided him for the remainder of the morning, and continued to keep his distance into the afternoon? The Demon Bull King hoped that if he made conversation the gap would be bridged and peace could be made.

"Er... Thankyou." Red Son felt his father's eyes on him. He did not look at his father's face, but heard a slight strain in his voice. Ah, his father was definitely still mad about Red Son yelling at him. He turned to Iron Fan, directing the conversation in a more comfortable direction, "...Mother, I, uh, added Sichuan pepper, did you notice? I know it's your favourite."

Iron Fan had only been subconsciously picking up on the flavours of her food, and while her mouth tingled from the numbing effects of the spice she hardly cared. She had spent most of the meal with her eyes on her husband, deep in a pensive silence. Red Son's voice derailed her train of thought and forced her back to reality.

"Oh, I did, yes," Iron Fan answered, sounding uninterested, "It was... hard not to."

She fixed her eyes back on the Demon Bull King.

Red Son realised his mother was not interested in conversation- he was familiar with the signs in her expression and voice from centuries of experience- and busied himself with scraping the last bits of his stir fry from the bottom of his bowl.

"I... noticed the Sichuan pepper." The Demon Bull King said, his voice halting a little as he spoke.

Red Son went tense.

"Did you... like it?" He asked gingerly.

"Oh yes, it was... excellent." The Demon Bull King replied.

The table fell into silence again.

Red Son became aware that Iron Fan was now scrutinising him, watching him from across the table, an almost amused light glittering in the depths of her dark eyes. She had quite an unnerving gaze that made Red Son shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"You know," Iron Fan said, resting the curve of her jaw on her hand, "Perhaps you should give your father some cooking lessons. He has so much to learn when it comes to the kitchen-"

"Oh, don't you start!" The Demon Bull King laughed, cutting her off, "All I have to do is familiarise myself with modern technology and I will be the best cook in the world!"

"I'll believe it when I see it." Iron Fan tossed her head and folded her arms, a smirk tugging at the edges of her mouth.

Red Son got up and hastily gathered the now empty bowls and plates from the table, taking them to the kitchen as fast as he could go without running.

He closed the door, his face burning- somewhat literally. Ugh, if he had to be there for any more of his parents' playfighting he was going to puke.

He placed the dishes by the sink and began to fill it with hot water and dish soap. The sudsy water was scalding, but it was nothing more than a slight tingling against his hands. 

Red Son washed the dishes in silence. He could have easily summoned an underling and ordered them to do it for him, but then what would he do? He did not feel like retiring to his bedroom just yet, but he also loathed the idea of going back to the dining room and sitting with his parents while they played and flirted.

For centuries, thousands of years even, Red Son had dined alone with his mother. Princess Iron Fan had one regular topic of conversation, one that they discussed at length almost every night for all that time.

"When our family is complete again..."

"When we get your father back..."

"When my darling is finally freed..."

"When you finish that gauntlet of yours and my husband is returned to me..."

It was supposed to be perfect. The return of the Demon Bull King was supposed to solve all their problems. It certainly seemed to have solved everything for Iron Fan... but Red Son? He felt more like a stranger in his own home than ever before.

A single drop of water fell into the steaming dishwater from above. Red Son wiped the tears from his eyes, shaking his head.

"Your father is home," He said to himself, voice cracking "The great Demon Bull Family is finally one again. Why are you not satisfied?"

"What is it darling?" Princess Iron Fan asked, "You are being strangely quiet, you know."

The Demon Bull King gone mostly silent after Red Son had abruptly left the room, only replying to his wife with short, uninterested answers, with wandering eyes and a furrowed brow.

"It is nothing." He answered.

Iron Fan crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. The Demon Bull King sighed.

"It is just..." He said, "...Our son seems... to not like me being here."

"What do you mean by that?" Iron Fan replied, "Why would he not want you here? He missed you so bitterly after you were trapped, and he worked hard to find a way to lift that staff. Besides, you are his father, he knows how much you love him."

"He barely talked to me tonight." The Bull King gazed down at his hands.

"Oh, he's just getting used to you," Iron Fan laid her hand on his, "Red Son likes to have order in life- your return must be disrupting it. He will settle down soon."

"Perhaps..." The Demon Bull King trailed off in pensive silence.

"My love?"

"...I- I hurt him," The Bull King's eyes welled up with tears, "I made him feel like he was worthless to me... no child should ever be made to feel that way by their father."

"But it was that bone... thing," Iron Fan brushed the liquid from his eyes, "You were not yourself-"

"But I was! I was the worst version of myself then, and I was like that before and have continued to to be so- just in less extreme ways. You said he knows that I love him, but how could he when all I have done since I was freed is show him the opposite?"

"I see your point," Iron Fan sighed, "I thought you two were rather tense tonight- perhaps your reasons for being so ran deeper than I thought. Well, you can only try to do better now."

The Demon Bull King sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating what his wife had just said. She was right, but what could he do to fix what he had broken? Where would he even start?

"...How?" He asked helplessly.

"Just... spend time with him, I suppose," Iron Fan stood up to kiss her husband, pulling his head downward so she could press her lips against his jaw, "I am sure you can work it out."

"Where are you going?" The Bull Demon King asked as Red Son neatly folded out a few days' worth of clothes and packed them away in a duffle bag. He had knocked on his son's door expecting to make some awkward conversation which resolved in some semblance of bonding- he was not expecting to find his child preparing to leave.

"To my other place." Red Son's answer gave the Demon Bull King nothing.

"Your... other place?"

"My workshop, training gym, secret lair- whatever you want to call it," Red Son pulled a coat identical to the one he was already wearing out of his closet, "It's a nice isolated spot, and I need to unwind for a few days," He rubbed his temples, "Either that or I need to change my prescription."

"Do you have a headache?"

"Nothing that's new."

"Oh."

"Well," Red Son zipped up the duffle bag and heaved it over his shoulder, "I shall be off. Goodbye, father."

"Goodbye..." The Demon Bull King did not follow him and was left standing alone and silent in the empty bedroom. His heart began to sink- but then it jolted, he inhaled sharply, and crossed the room with one bound. He landed with a heavy thud and almost made the doorframe collapse as he gripped it for balance.

"DO YOU HAVE YOUR TOOTHBRUSH-"

"I'm getting it!"

Chapter Text

Nezha was many things. His roles as a protector of the celestial realm and a guardian of the Samadhi Fire were simply just where his responsibilities began. He was the Marshal of the Central Altar, the Third Lotus Prince, a custodian of children and a patron of filial relationships, as well as the son of a General!

So how was it that he had been ordered to carry out such a task as this?!

" 'Take a break, Nezha' !" He muttered to himself as he walked- actually walked- through a path in a densely vegetated valley, " 'You work too hard, Nezha' 'You need to get out for once in your life, Nezha' I cannot believe he just-!!" The prince clenched his fists and made an indescribably frustrated guttural noise, "I might as well personally hand over the Samadhi Fire to the first demon I see! That map is as good as stolen!"

As he spoke, an orb of golden light popped into existence before Nezha's eyes. The prince blinked in surprise, then sighed as the orb began to grow and took shape as an older man who glowed faintly. 

"Taibai Jinxing." Nezha immediately bowed, and the old man laughed.

"My prince, how many times must I tell you just to call me Venus? Really, there is no need to be so formal!" The man had a mellow voice with cheery cadences, and he smiled fondly at Nezha, who was far less thrilled to see him.

"Alright... Venus. May I ask why you are here?"

"Your father had a message for you, which I volunteered to deliver," Venus said, "Let's see, uhh... 'Tell Nezha not to worry about the map, a squadron of celestial soldiers have been assigned to guard the room where it is kept. No, they will not be allowed into the room, yes, that does mean that they are only guarding the doors, but you cannot have your cake and eat it too'... Uhhhh- oh! 'And tell him not to pick any fights with dragons while he is out' ."

"I was seven..." Nezha pinched the bridge of his nose, "Thankyou for relaying the message. Now, may I ask why you are really here?"

Venus gave him a deceptively blank look, one that Nezha knew meant the old planet was toying with him.

"Do you expect me to believe the Spirit of Venus left the celestial realm to run errands for my father?" The prince folded his arms, "You must have some other purpose for coming here."

"If course, you are right!" Venus chuckled and laid an arm over Nezha's armoured shoulderpads, "I also came to make sure you were on the right track."

"...On the right track for what?"

"Oh, you will see soon enough."

"Great..." Nezha's patience was becoming very quickly spent. He had no time for any of this 'break' nonsense, and certainly had none for Venus' divine intervention shenaniganery. 

"Well, you're heading in the right direction, so my business here seems to be concluded," Venus let go of Nezha and began to glow brighter than before, "It was nice talking with you, but I have other matters that need attending to."

As the light surrounding him intensified, Venus' form became obscured by golden glare. Nezha turned away to shield his eyes, knowing how bright the old planet's exits tended to get.

"Oh, and if you stumble across a young fire demon out here, please let him talk before you attack him."

"What-?!" Nezha whirled back around just as Venus vanished from sight.

The prince pinched the bridge of his nose, his teeth grinding against each other. What was Venus playing at? The spirit always had good intentions, but Nezha still found him hard to trust. He leapt upwards a few feet, his fiery wheels materialising under the soles of his boots.

"Alright Venus," He kicked off, rocketing forwards at a breakneck speed, "Let's see what you're on about."

It had been a while since Red Son had been able to come back to his house in the jungle, and it seemed in his absence the jungle had made an invasion of his house. The place was more pavilion than building, and the open air setting allowed leaves, dust and a whole horde of unwanted critters in.

"Get out!" Red Son chased a startled wood pigeon from the rafters, yelling and brandishing a broom in its direction. The bird seemed to get the point, as it flew off and vanished into the trees, presumably to find a more suitable place to nest- one with less shouting fire demons, no doubt.

Satisfied that the pigeon would not return anytime soon, Red Son turned back around and immediately jumped back in horror when a centipede about the size of his forearm scuttled past him, less than an inch from his left foot.

In a split-second it was reduced to ash. Red Son shakily blew on his smoking index finger as if it was the barrel of a gun, then stepped around the cremated crawler and went back to cleaning as the wind picked up the ashes and carried them over the jungle.

Sweeping the main outdoor area took the better part of an hour. It was hard work, but it was relaxing in its own way. For a moment, Red Son's mind was fully engaged in his work, and there was no room for anything else.

By the time Red Son was able to throw his broom down and collapse onto the comfort of the floor the sun was already high in the sky. Lunch seemed to be in order, but cooking anything properly felt like too much effort. Eh, he'd get up and get something eventually.

The day was warm, the air was humid, and the trees buzzed with the music of cicadas. Even as Red Son told himself that he would get up soon, he was drifting off to sleep.

Perhaps, Nezha reflected, Venus had been a little vague about the distance between him and whatever the old planet intended him to find. He had crossed half the jungle, but had failed to locate anything out of the ordinary for a rainforest.

Now, as he took a moment to rest by a river and mull his situation over, it began to dawn on him that he was being utterly played with.

Venus was not the kind to cause problems and stir up mischief for no reason, but if he had one Nezha would not put it past the spirit to send him on a wild goose chase. Had his father asked Venus to keep him occupied to distract him from thinking about work and his duties? If so, that was insulting. Nezha was perfectly capable of unwinding without any form of distraction.

In fact, he would do it right now! This was a nice spot by the river, and he was going to relax here! That would show his father just how much he was not in need of this forced sabbatical!

Nezha folded his arms and leaned back against one of the smooth boulders by the water's edge. He gazed up at the sky, jaw clenching tighter the more he watched the clouds.

He shut his eyes and rubbed the side of his face, muttering something about how stupid this all was. He opened his eyes again just in time to see a few specks swirl in the wind overhead. They were much thicker than dust, too small and fragile to be leaves, and too dark to be petals.

Nezha was up in the blink of an eye, snatching one of the larger pieces in his hand. He hovered in midair, watching the substance disintegrate into a dark powder in the palm of his hand before flying off with the wind again.

Ash.

What was that Venus had said about a fire demon? Perhaps there was truth to the old planet's words after all.

He turned to look in the direction the ash came from. A fire demon in a forest; Nezha knew a recipe for disaster when he saw one. It would be best to track down this fiend and make sure they were behaving.

Brandishing his spear, Nezha sped off again, weaving through the canopy in a beam of bright light.

Chapter Text

“STAND UP, BOY.”

Red Son’s eyes were filled with light. This light was so bright it was blinding, yet it was so soft and such a mellow gold that it caused no pain. Kind of the opposite to the voice that commanded him- warm and sweet, yet at this time so severe that to hear it felt like a slap across the face.

“Y-Yes!!” Red Son sat up, blinking stupidly and stumbling to his feet. He almost fell over, but steadied himself. A tall, dark figure stood before him, silhouetted in the light- a figure the young demon knew well.

“YOU HAVE NERVE, SLEEPING IN SUCH A PLACE AFTER ALL YOU HAVE DONE,” She said, gazing down at him, “HAVE YOU GROWN COMPLACENT? HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THE RESPECT I TAUGHT YOU?”

“…No!” Red Son cried, his heart racing. What was happening? How did he get here? What did she want?

“PERHAPS I WAS TOO LENIENT IN MY FIRST LESSON,” Her voice trembled with anger, “MUST I GIVE YOU A REFRESHER?”

“No!” Red Son cried again, responding with more haste this time.

“NO, BODHISATTVA.”

“No, Bodhisattva!”

“Good,” The severity left her voice, the light faded to a soft glow, and the woman before Red Son seemed to shrink a little in size, “You know how I hate repeating my classes.”

Red Son smiled, relaxing when he saw she was appeased. This was the version of her he preferred: a soft-faced woman dressed in loose white robes and a radiant aura.

“Guanyin-” He took a step towards her.

“OH SO YOU DO REMEMBER ME!”

Red Son stumbled backwards as the Bodhisattva lashed out again.

“Aha…” He laughed nervously, avoiding contact with her dagger-like gaze, “You’re still mad.”

“Of course I am still mad,” Guanyin composed herself once again, but now Red Son was quite aware of the smouldering rage just under her cool surface, “To say I am displeased to know my former disciple once again takes pride and finds pleasure in his demonic behaviour would be an understatement.”

"How did you know about-"

"I do not need to be physically present for my spirit to exist in any given place, Red Son, just as I am not physically here in your subconscious mind," Guanyin explained with patient exasperation, "And even if that were not true, yourself and your family have created disturbances on such a scale I would be surprised to find anyone who did not know of your recent deeds. Honestly, did you think I would not know?"

"I..." A few beads of sweat popped up on Red Son's forehead.

"Just as I thought," Guanyin sighed, "You did not give it even half a thought."

Red Son felt his stomach sink as the Bodhisattva spoke.

"I..." His voice wobbled.

"What is it?" Guanyin's voice was sharp with impatience, "Speak, you demon calf."

"I'm sorry!" Tears sprung up in Red Son's eyes.

"Are you? Or are you just scared of me?"

The Bodhisattva's words made the tears spill from the young demon's eyes. He did not say anything more, though, and did not even sob as he cried motionlessly. Guanyin remained just as still as he, gazing down at Red Son for a long time. In her glorious radiance, the demon looked small and utterly wretched. 

"You are ruled by fear and insecurity," Guanyin spoke finally, and Red Son shuddered and hung his head, "You always have been. That is the flaw of yours that I could never fix. It may very well be what drives you to your end." The Bodhisattva turned her back on her former disciple. He could feel her seething anger, now mixed with something deeper: a mournful disappointment.

"No, I-!" Red Son cried. He reached out and tried to grab onto her robes, but he could not grasp her.

"You have no morality," Guanyin said, not looking back at him, "Just a desire to gain as much as you can. Power, security, attention... Whatever it is you want, it will consume you before you can even have it, unless you change."

"I... I will!"

"I hope so, Red Son," Guanyin said as she vanished before his eyes, "I certainly hope so."

Red Son sat bolt upright, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. He sat motionless on the floor, looking upwards with teary eyes.

How could he have not realised where he had fallen asleep?

He sat right in the shadow of the largest statue in the place. Her form carved in stone, Guanyin seemed no less rigid and inflexible than the version of her Red Son had just spoken to.

"Please..." Red Son clasped his hands and threw himself against the base of the statue, "Please don't give up on me! I will make this up to you, I swear!"

The statue was just a statue, so, obviously, Red Son got no response from it. The silence emanating from the Bodhisattva's cold rock form was inhospitable, and the young demon got up, dried his eyes and went to leave.

"I will make you proud." He vowed quietly, before he properly left his former teacher's presence.

Before Red Son had claimed the house in the jungle for himself, someone had planted a garden there. He didn't know how long it had been there, because the trees had already seemed centuries old when he arrived.

It was one of the best things about the place- an overgrown tropical forest dense with trees that always seemed to be heavy with fruit and hung with vines that produced various fruits and berries of their own. It has a life-filled calm to it, a peacefulness that put Red Son at ease.

It was exactly the place he needed to be right now.

He sat under the shade of an orange tree, eyes closed, taking in the cries of birds and the rustling of leaves around him. His breathing evened out, and his eyes slowly fluttered open. He clicked the fingers on his right hand and watched the tiny flame flicker to life, a ribbon of light swirling in his palm. He let the little fire ebb and flow under the guidance of his mind.

It was reassuring to know that he had control of something.

Before Red Son quite realised what was happening, he was forced right back against the tree in a terrifying and confused moment of breakneck speed, shining metal and bright pink light. The young demon looked down in fright and horror at the spear tip held less than an inch away from his throat, his wide eyes slowly rising to look up at the face of it's wielder.

A tall, lean man dressed in some of the showiest armour Red Son had ever seen frowned down at him. The demon recognised him as a celestial being instantly, but as he looked closer he realised the man was vaguely familiar. Red Son knew he knew him- he just couldn't quite put his finger on it.

However, the man certainly recognised him.

"Red Son?" He retreated a few steps, lowering the spear, "You... You've grown."

Red Son squinted up at him. Oh, he was that close to knowing who he was. Oh, what was his name, what was his name...

"Lotus Prince!" The dots connected in Red Son's head, and he jumped to his feet, "Err... Hello. It's been... how long?"

"I lose track." The Lotus Prince replied.

The two stood looking at each other for a few awkwardly silent moments.

"What are you doing here?" They asked in unison, then stared at each other for a few moments, each silently urging the other to speak first.

"Umm-" Red Son began, just as the Lotus Prince started to say, "Well, I-" and they both froze up again.

"Well I own this place, so you owe me more of an explanation." Red Son cut in before they could keep on with this cycle.

"Oh, well I was just in the area," The Lotus Prince explained, "When I saw some ash and came to ensure there was not about to be some raging forest fire."

"I see," Red Son said, "Well, I have everything under control here, so- wait, why are you here? In the mortal realm? Shouldn't you be in the heavens guarding-"

"Yes, I should be," The Lotus Prince interrupted him, his voice sharp with annoyance, "But I... I'm having a short vacation."

Red Son's eyes widened.

"You left your post guarding a map of where to find possibly the most dangerous and destructive force in the universe!?" Red Son cried, "Petal Brain-!"

"Not willingly," The Lotus Prince snapped, "And it's Nezha, in case you've forgotten."

"No, I remembered." Red Son said, although he certainly hadn't.

"Whatever," Nezha folded his arms, "I left my post because I was forced to. I never would have abandoned it, but my parents ganged up on me and forced me to take a small sabbatical."

"But you have one of the most important guarding duties in all the realms!" Red Son gestured wildly, "How could they expect you to leave it?!"

"That's what I said!" Nezha threw his hands up in the air, as if to give a frustrated 'THANKYOU!' to the young demon, "And then Mother said 'You work too hard, my son, and it's all you think about. You need to get out and live a little.' and I said 'Oh, so when Muzha detaches himself from the world and devotes himself to a higher purpose he is 'wise' and 'spiritual' but when I do it then suddenly there's a problem!' and Father was like 'That's not the same, Nezha!' and suddenly it was a whole thing and- are you laughing at me?!"

"No!" Red Son quickly plastered fake neutrality over his smirk, "No. But... That is to say... you are very different to your brother."

"Hmph." Nezha's face fell into a scowl.

"Well... since you're stuck down here in the mortal realm for the time being..." Red Son's fingers twitched nervously, "Would you like to... hang out here, or...?"

"Sure." Nezha answered, and Red Son found himself feeling relieved at the prospect of not being alone here. But had he not come here for some isolation in the first place?

"Oh! Good!" Red Son felt a smile spread across his face, and his hands moved with excitement as he spoke, "Let's go inside, and I can make us something to eat. Do you like fruit?"

Nezha looked a little surprised at Red Son's sudden enthusiasm, but it had a certain contagious quality to it, and within a few seconds a rare smile began tugging on his lips, his eyes brightening.

"That sounds nice." He said, subconsciously dismissing his fire wheels and spear.

"Good," Red Son said, "Because that's literally all we have here."

"So... I have a question." Nezha looked down at the bowl of sliced fruit Red Son set down between them.

"Yes?"

"When you say you only have fruit here- is that really all you eat?"

"When I'm here, yes," Red Son answered, taking a slice of orange from the bowl while Nezha picked out a ring of pineapple and began splitting it into segments, "Where am I supposed to get any other food out here? It's not like there's any store I can go to in the middle of a rainforest."

"That makes sense," Nezha popped one of the pineapple segments into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully, "I suppose your mother has opinions on this diet you keep."

"Hah!" Red Son laughed, "I'll be damned if she cares!"

Nezha gave him a strange look.

"What?" Red Son asked, but the Lotus Prince just shook his head and ate another segment of pineapple.

"How is your mother doing these days?" Nezha asked after a brief stretch of silence, "I haven't had the chance to catch up with her in centuries."

"Oh, she's fine." Red Son reached for another orange slice.

"I heard your father is back."

Red Son's hand halted.

"He is," He said, moving his hand back to rest in his lap, "I found a way to free him."

"I suppose we will have to face each other on the battlefield soon, then," Nezha sighed, "The Jade Emperor was never quite comfortable just tolerating the Demon Bull King's desire to rule the world. I suppose he is back with a vengeance now."

"He is- well- he was at first," Red Son looked down at his hands, beginning to fidget, "We were going to dominate the world any way we could, but that led to... I don't know, there were these weird bones, and Father got angry- angrier than usual- and when we dealt with that we took a break from the villainy to regroup, then there was this whole thing with the Spider Queen capturing him a few days ago, and well, after all that I really don't know what he intends to do now," Red Son rubbed his fingers against each other, watching sparks fly off them and die out almost immediately, "I... I don't think he does either."

Nezha put the last piece of pineapple into his mouth.

"So," He said after he'd swallowed it, "Where does you and a group of rowdy mortals breaking into and stealing from the celestial realm fit into all that?"

Red Son's heartbeat began to quicken.

"You, er... you heard about that?" He asked nervously.

"Of course I did," Nezha pinched the bridge of his nose, "Red Son, I taught you interdimensional travel in case you needed my help in an emergency, not so you could steal from my colleagues!"

"It was an emergency!" Red Son cried, "That Spider Queen would have killed my father if I hadn't used the artifacts to make an antidote to her venom!"

Nezha looked like he was going to argue back- then he sighed heavily.

"Perhaps it would be for the best if your family was to lie low for a while," He said, "Everyone in the celestial realm is... upset, to say the least, and your parents have plenty of poorly buried hatchets amongst the heavenly ranks. If the Demon Bull King started causing trouble, it could get very messy very fast."

Red Son felt a sinking sensation in his chest. In the act of saving his father, had he just made things worse for him? What if they were all arrested for what he had done? What if they blamed Red Son's parents for his own actions? They would hate him then. Although his father may not have been in his right mind when he spoke, his words still rang true: You have brought me nothing but failure, again and again! Nothing but disappointment!

"Red Son?" He was vaguely aware of Nezha's distant voice.

He could predict his parent's reactions when they were tried alongside him. His Father's loud, blazing anger. His Mother's quiet, yet equally as burning hatred. They would wish for a better son, a son that was able to do something right for once.

"RED SON!"

Nezha grabbed the demon's shoulders, and he snapped out of his thoughts, blinking away tears and steadying his breathing.

"Are you-?" Nezha began, letting him go.

"Fine," Red Son muttered, turning away and folding his arms, "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Nezha said sternly, "You just started having a panic attack in the middle of our conversation! Now, I understand that it's not my business, but what on earth is going on between you and your parents?!"

"It's fine." Red Son repeated, sounding unconvinced.

"Filial relationships are a part of my domain," Nezha said, "And even if they weren't, I could probably have sensed the amount of tension radiating off of you anyway. I knew something was wrong the moment I found you alone out here."

Red Son shuffled back around to face him, but still did not speak.

"You don't have to tell me if-" Nezha began.

"This was supposed to be the happy ending!" Red Son blurted out, tears springing back up in his eyes, "I made the gauntlet, it worked, I freed my father, we're a family again, but... but it's nothing like how I imagined."

Nezha nodded, encouraging Red Son to go on.

"Nothing I do is ever he right thing, and both Mother and Father seem to have just given up on me at this point! I waste Mother's time and Father's resources, I say stupid things, I never give them what they expect... I'm a failure and a disappointment, and, Nezha, I'm afraid that's all I'm ever going to be to anyone!"

Red Son found himself being hugged tight by the Lotus Prince. The armour on his shoulders was hard, but as the young demon pressed his face against it, the plate was in no way harsh or cold. Despite the prince's attire, his embrace was like being wrapped in a blanket- some old, comforting blanket Red Son had once kept in his crib and had been tucked in with in the years before he had formed an awareness of the world. Red Son's thoughts went quiet for a moment as he buried his teary eyes into Nezha's hair.

"This may seem like a stupid question," Nezha gave Red Son's back a few comforting pats, "But have you tried talking to your parents about how you feel?"

"No," Red Son mumbled tearfully, "Why would I?"

"That is understandable. But nothing will be solved if you just run away from your problems. And, Red Son," Nezha pulled back to look him in the eyes, "If there are two people with more love in their hearts for their child than your parents have for you, I would like to meet them."

Red Son did not meet his gaze.

"They did once, but..." He sniffled, "I suppose I fell out of their favour."

"I doubt it," Nezha said, "Perhaps their ways of showing it have changed. They went through so much, and in the meantime, you grew- those things alter relationships," Red Son still would not look at him, so he sighed and smiled, "Think what you want, but nothing will improve if you continue to let yourself spiral like this. You should go back to them and try to mend this rift before it becomes any bigger."

Red Son finally looked up.

"You know what?" He smiled, "I will. I will fix this! I can at least try to!"

"Good."

"I'll go back tonight," Red Son reached into the fruit bowl, picked up a pineapple ring and bit straight into it, letting the sweet, slightly tart juice overwhelm all his other senses for a moment, "But right now, let's just relax for a while."

And so the day passed, spent eating fruit and talking about nothing and just lying in the sun. Nezha fell asleep under a tree at some point in the late afternoon, and Red Son let him rest there beside him while he watched the bright daylight turn mellow. By the time Nezha stirred, the sun was slipping underneath the horizon.

"Rise and shine, Lotus Boy." Red Son said as Nezha yawned and straightened up.

"Did I... was I asleep?" He asked groggily, rubbing his bleary eyes.

"Yes. You talk in your sleep, by the way. I didn't manage to catch any coherent words, but you were very intent about something for about ten seconds there."

Nezha ignored him.

"I haven't slept in..." He drowsily tried to count on his fingers, then gave up, "...A while." He leaned his head back against the tree, closed his eyes again for a few moments, then opened them again and jumped into the air.

"I DID IT!" Nezha yelled, punching the air triumphantly, "I RELAXED! I WIN!!!"

He composed himself, brushed off his armour and floated back to the ground.

"I should probably go back to the celestial realm now," He said, "But... it was nice, being here with you. We should do it again sometime soon."

"Oh, yes," Red Son got to his feet, "You know, the place gets pretty empty when I'm not here. It could use another occupant. If... if you get sent away again, you can always come stay here for a while, just if you want to. Just as long as you don't touch any of my stuff!"

Nezha looked a little surprised at the offer, but thought on it for a moment, smiling to himself.

"I might just take you up on that," He said, "Goodbye, Red Son." He rocketed into the air and arced off into the evening sky. Somewhere, miles off, Red Son saw a blink of light as a portal flashed in and out of existence within the span of a single second.

"Bye, Lotus Boy." Red Son turned away and went inside, feeling a strange elation he was unfamiliar with. Something about the day with Nezha and the possibility of more like it made him bubbly with excitement. He hadn't had someone to be friends with since...

His stomach tightened as he stepped into the gaze of the Bodhisattva statue. Guanyin's stone countenance seemed just as, if not more, stern and severe as she had earlier. Red Son did his best to ignore it as he packed up his bag and carried it down to the car.

It was a long drive from here up to the desert, but it gave Red Son time. Time for what, exactly? He wasn't sure. Just time.

He pressed play on his favourite jazz playlist, stepped on the accelerator and drove home.

The fortress was silent and still. Red Son stepped through the front door, switching on the lights as he did. From the moment he stepped inside he could tell that he was alone in here.

"Mother? Father?" He called out, and, as he suspected, there was no reply.

He felt panic grip his insides. What if Nezha had been right about his parents being in hot water with the celestial realm? What if they had been taken while he was gone?

No, no. His parents would never go down without a fight. If they had been arrested there would be signs of struggle.

Red Son began to calm down as he walked further into the fortress. There was no evidence of violence, no clues pointing towards trouble; wherever the Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan were now, they had gone willingly.

He gave the fortress a once-over, but his parents were nowhere to be found. There was also a car unaccounted for: the massive juggernaut of a vehicle that they had used to race against him back in the city. Where could they have gone with that, Red Son wondered, and with what intentions? Once again, he remembered Nezha's warning to lie low, but he was fairly sure his parents were doing the opposite of that right now.

He found himself walking back to the dining room, were he sat in his chair and drummed his fingers against the tabletop. He would wait there, he decided, until his parents arrived home safe.

Chapter Text

The Demon Bull King woke up in a cold sweat, heart hammering against his ribs. He lay blinking rapidly in the dim light, barely able to breathe, trembling all over. He couldn’t see a thing, and he though he wanted to cry out, to yell for help, to scream for his wife or his son or anyone, but his voice could make no sound. He was stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck…

He felt weight shift in the bed beside him, and heard Princess Iron Fan breathing and out deeply in her sleep. He became aware of her presence beside him, warm and safe and comfortable, but his body refused to relax and his mind was frozen with panic.

Everything is okay, He told himself, but why would he feel so terribly and physically afraid if nothing was wrong?

He was in his own bed, in his own home- a very well-fortified and protected home- and his wife was right here next to him. Everything was safe, there was no danger... unless...

The Demon Bull King jumped out of bed and landed on the floor with such a loud thump that it made Iron Fan sit right upright, jolted awake by the movement and the noise. She pulled off her eye mask and in the soft glow of the lava that gave the windows a lamp-like effect, she watched her husband as he ran madly to the door.

"My love?" She rubbed her eyes, "Are you alright?"

He froze, breathing heavily, and Iron Fan saw sweat glistening all over his body.

"Red Son." He stated, voice shaky as he clung to the doorframe momentarily.

"...What about him?" Iron Fan asked, but the Demon Bull King was already off, his heavy footsteps echoing loudly down the hallway. The princess stared for a moment at the doorframe; where he had gripped it there were now claw-shaped indents. She slid out of bed and chased after her husband. There had been something off about his eyes, something dazed and primal, something Iron Fan didn't like.

The Demon Bull King ran to his son's bedroom, only vaguely aware of his wife running and calling behind him.

"Darling!" She yelled as she caught up to him, "Stop for a moment and just-!"

Before she could finish her sentence they arrived at their son's bedroom. The Demon Bull King thrust open the door and stared into the empty room, his breathing becoming increasingly rapid and stressed.

"WHERE IS HE?!" He bellowed as he spun around, and Iron Fan took a step back.

"Darling..." She said slowly, "He's not here. He's out for a few days, remember?"

She watched as clarity came back to her husband's eyes, and realisation followed.

"Right, yes," His voice trembled, along with his hands, "For a moment I just... I was being irrational." He gave his eyes a quick swipe and walked back past Iron Fan, touching her shoulder gently, "I apologise for waking you. And... and for yelling at you."

"That is alright. My love-"

"Back to bed then?" The Demon Bull King interrupted her, and he strode back to their bedroom without waiting for a response.

Iron Fan's mouth tightened and her brow furrowed, but for the moment she said nothing and followed him.

Neither of them said a thing as they climbed back into bed. Addressing what had just happened was a conversation neither of them wanted to initiate, though lying in silence seemed equally as awkward. There was nothing quite as uncomfortable as two people lying beside each other, wide awake but pretending not to be.

The Demon Bull King lay silently, staring up at the ceiling. He was still tense, though he knew now that it was irrational. His body pumped with adrenaline, and his mind was restless.

He was no stranger to that feeling, that horrible feeling of being trapped. If fact, he knew it all too well. Yet it continued to haunt him now, and it shook him to his core.

"Darling?" He rolled onto his side to face Iron Fan.

"Hmm?" She shifted around to face him.

"I..." The Demon Bull King's voice shook as he grasped for the right words and tried in vain to hold back tears, "...I need you."

"For what?"

"I just..." The Demon Bull King sobbed, outstretching his arms, "I just need you."

Iron Fan gave him the softest of her smiles and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her head into his collarbone. The Demon Bull King held her tight, shedding tears into her thick dark hair as he felt the steady beat of her heart against his quickened pulse. She felt so strong and warm in his trembling arms, and as he kept her in his embrace, his fear subsided.

He had no idea why such a wonderful woman as his Princess Iron Fan would ever settle for him, but she had, and he was eternally grateful. What would he do without her? Surely his world would fall to pieces.

"Sorry," The Demon Bull King murmured after a while, "I must be keeping you awake."

"Oh, don't apologise," Iron Fan's reply came back muffled, "I married this neck with the intention to utilise it."

He chuckled and stroked her hair gently.

"Unless... am I keeping you awake?" She pulled herself up a little, just enough to look him in the eyes.

"No, no," The Demon Bull King smiled at her, "No, I think sleep is off the table for me tonight."

They gazed into each other's eyes for a few perfect moments, before Iron Fan rolled off his chest and out of bed.

"Where are you going?" The Bull King sat up as she strode over to their closet.

"Well, if neither of us are going to sleep, why waste time lying around? Let's go have some fun."

"Well, Dear," The Demon Bull King grinned and leaned back against the headboard, "We could have fun right here."

"Maybe later," Iron Fan pulled on the skirts of her day-dress and did up her top, "Right now, the both of us need gratification of a different kind."

She saw the Demon Bull King's confused look and just laughed. She crossed the room, took him by the hand and pulled him out of bed.

"We are a sorry sight, my love," She said, her voice bitter despite her laughter still faintly echoing off the walls, "Always pushed around and left beaten and bleeding by the bigger fish in this accursed pond. But we have worked too hard to give up now. We were right on the brink, we had a taste of the world that could have been ours- that means we have a chance."

"I fail to see what this has to do with-"

"We just need to be smart this time. We were rash before, blinded by rage and impatience. But good things come to those who wait, and a persistence predator always catches it's prey when it stays it's claws until the right time to strike. We just need time to build out resources, to calculate our next move and to gather power," Iron Fan picked up her namesake weapon, her eyes gleaming, "There's a human settlement just a little North of here. There should be something there to power that armour of yours. And unfortunately for them, they live too far away from the Monkey Kid's precious city to have him fly in for the rescue. Our victory will be assured, and, after all we've been through," The light in her eyes danced like flames, "It will be earned."

The Demon Bull King listened to what she said, the same fire in her eyes leaping up in his chest. All his nervous energy from his nightmarish waking now turned to invigoration.

"Darling," He grinned, squaring his shoulders, "What are we waiting for?"

Loud music blasted from the car's speakers, a thundering combination of drum beats and guitar that made the whole vehicle vibrate and drowned out the roaring of the engine.

The Demon Bull King kept the accelerator firmly pressed to the floor and the car- more like a tank, really- plowed through the desert, leaving clouds of sand and a trail of destruction in its wake.

"Here." He heard the princess say, and hit the breaks. The car screeched and drifted, coming to a halt after spinning ninety degrees. The couple stepped out to see that they were parked on the edge of a small cliff. A small collection of buildings and carefully maintained farms were sheltered by this short precipice, protected from most of the winds and sandstorms that came across the desert.

Princess Iron Fan smiled. Cute. But a few swings of her fan kissed that bit of adaptive ingenuity goodbye.

Wheeling her fan, she called up powerful gusts and tornadoes that lifted whole dunes of sand with them, and with a direct swipe sent it all straight towards the little settlement. Alone, Iron Fan could have devastated this place. She could have ripped up the delicate crops and scattered the carefully nurtured soil for miles. She could have torn the roofs and broken the windows. She could have pulled the inhabitants from their beds and lifted them up on the winds only to let them plummet back to the ground.

But the Bull Demon King looked over at his shoulder at her before he jumped down to the settlement and landed with a earth-shaking thud. He wasted no time rushing upon the buildings, roaring and bellowing as wood and brick splintered and crumbled at his hands. His armour sucked in all it could pull, and his power grew by the moment, his strength doubling, tripling, quadrupling...

Iron Fan stood on the edge of the cliff, the car still blasting music behind her, stirring the winds and watching her husband rampage. Well, she couldn't let him have all the fun, could she?

She jumped, lifting herself on her own storm, soaring over the town as she spun and roused the air. For a fleeting moment she met eyes with the Demon Bull King in midair, and the memory of a certain group of vagabonds' attempt at the Celestial throne and a fight that ended before either side had won flashed before her eyes. A split-second later, the wind pulled them apart.

Iron Fan stilled herself for a moment to watch her husband fight. All her life before that battle she had felt a sense of incompleteness, as though her heart had been missing a piece. Who could have known that she would have found it in a demon rebel? And now Iron Fan realised that in the time when he had been gone, that crucial piece had been taken from her too. Ah, how she had missed him.

She threw herself back into the fray with a new vigor, and the sandstorms she summoned only increased in severity. Princess Iron Fan and the Demon Bull King battered and crushed the settlement until there was nothing left to break or pillage. By the time they were done with the place there was nothing left but rubble and sand.

They were still laughing breathlessly when they arrived back at the fortress. Flawless destruction really brought out the best in a couple... Or at least in the case of the Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan it did.

A job well done was as good of a reason for euphoria as any after so much loss, and the high of success banished the fears of the night away like the rising sun banished the darkness. For the moment, it was morning.

They crossed the threshold bright-eyed and smiling. The Demon Bull King spun Iron Fan around, she laughed, and they kissed in the lava's glow.

"You're home."

The couple jumped and looked up to see Red Son striding towards them, his brows furrowed and his fists clenched.

"I... I had no idea where you were or if you were coming back," His voice shook with something that seemed like anger, "You were gone for hours, I thought something-"

He didn't finish the thought, instead he threw one arm around his mother and the other as far around his father as it could go, pulling them both into a hug.

"Never do it again." He said, released them, and stormed off into the depths of the fortress, without adding anything more except: "There's breakfast in the kitchen."

The Demon Bull King and Iron Fan stood in silence as his footsteps echoed away.

"...I was not expecting him home so soon," Iron Fan said finally, "Usually he goes out for a few days, at least."

"Was there anything off about that to you?" The Demon Bull King kept his eyes on the doorway Red Son had exited through, "He tends to be far more... abject than that."

"To you, perhaps. But you have already seen some of his moods, and, let me tell you, there are more."

The Demon Bull King felt a warmth adjacent to pride swell in his chest.

"Good," He said, "A backbone is an invaluable trait. I would hate to think my own son lacked one. Perhaps I was too quick to judge him. Perhaps he does have some strength worth speaking of," He looked down at his wife, "He must get it from you."

"With that temper of his?" Iron Fan replied, "Not a chance. Now, let's see what he cooked for us."

Chapter Text

"Mother?" Red Son poked his head into the doorway of Iron Fan's office. He caught a glimpse of glowing screens displaying various weapons and objects, but at the sound of his voice the princess quickly shut them down.

"Yes?" She turned to her son.

Red Son realised he must have been intruding on something, which did nothing to help his growing anxiety.

"Mother," He stepped into the office properly, rubbing his hands together, "Can we talk?"

"Alright."

Good. Red Son had her attention for now, but how long would be able to keep it? He had to play his biggest card, the one that would draw the most reaction, first.

"I saw Nezha yesterday." He stated.

Iron Fan's eyes widened slightly at the mention of her old colleague.

"I thought he was guarding the fire." She raised an eyebrow.

"He had the day off, it was a whole thing, anyway," Red Son took a deep breath, "He... He told me that I, uh... well I might be in really big trouble with the Celestial Realm."

Iron Fan watched as large beads of sweat popped up on her son's forehead.

"What did you do?" She asked, now giving him her full attention.

"Umm, well, I..." Red Son took a deep breath and let the whole story tumble recklessly from his mouth, "I may have used interdimensional travel to break into the Celestial Realm, organised a heist to steal immortal peaches, elixir pills and the Trigram Furnace and they traced the thefts back to me and- Mother, stop looking at me like that!"

Iron Fan stared at her son with genuine shock on her face- an expression Red Son had no idea how to read. She was not furious with him, it seemed, nor proud of him, and not worried or concerned either. Just honestly and utterly surprised.

"...Look, if I hadn't done it the Spider Queen would have killed us and taken over the world," Red Son rambled, "I honestly thought I could do it without getting caught, it was those noodle brains who messed it up-"

"WHAT?"

"Uhhh..." Red Son was in for it now.

"You mean to tell me you broke into the Celestial Realm with the Monkey Kid and his cronies?"

"Well... Yes?" The pitch of Red Son's voice rose in sync with his nerves, "There was a lot going on, I needed their ship, that Dragon Girl insisted on coming with me-"

"Alright," Iron Fan held up her hand, and for a brief moment Red Son flinched, thinking this mess might be her final straw. Instead, she placed her hand on his shoulder and asked, "How much does your father know about this?"

"Most of it... Except for the part where I broke into the Celestial Realm and stole all their artifacts... So, err, not much of it, actually."

"Good," Iron Fan took her hand off his shoulder and turning aside as she spoke, partly to Red Son and partly to herself, "If he thought there was trouble to be had with the Celestial Realm... Well, the last thing we want is for him to do something rash," She turned back to Red Son, "Do not worry. If they want to arrest you, they'll have to get through the fortress, the might of the Demon Bull King, and me."

She seemed sure enough in this conclusion, but Red Son failed to find assurance in her words.

"How can you be so confident?" He asked, not meeting her eyes, "Even you and Father cannot fight all of the celestial armies, and the Jade Emperor has so many powerful allies that would jump at the chance to fight us!"

"They spent hundreds of years trying to track down your Father and I after we ran," Iron Fan just smiled like Red Son had told her he was afraid of a beetle, "And we're still here."

Well, she was right about that. The Jade Emperor had made enough attacks on them before now, and the Demon Bull Family had always held up. But still, fear nibbled at Red Son, gnawing at the back of his brain in a way he just couldn't ignore. A terrible scenario began to form in his mind, compromised of dark, lonely images of the three of them all locked up, far away from each other. Trapped and seperated, perhaps never to be reunited again.

"Is that all you wanted to talk about?" Iron Fan asked.

"Hm? Oh, yes." Red Son turned without another word and walked to the door. He paused, thought for a moment, and turned back to Iron Fan.

"Mother?"

"Hmm?"

"Can- Can you tell me the story of how you met Father? Like how you used to when I was little?"

Princess Iron Fan was not often taken aback, but now she shot her son a rather surprised look.

"Why do you want to hear that story now?"

"I just thought..." Red Son struggled to find the right words, "Well, I just felt like... I might need to hear it again."

"Red Son, you know I am busy right now..." Iron Fan's argument petered out before she could properly make it, "Well, I suppose I could- but I cannot promise that it will be exactly like you remember-"

Red Son was at her side in an instant, sitting on the floor and gazing up at her with eager eyes.

Iron Fan gave a light sigh, and began the story she had often used as a bedtime tale or a calming anecdote millenium ago. She could almost remember how it had been back then, holding her squalling toddler and murmuring the words she now repeated to her practically grown-up son.

"Once there was a princess who fought with a fan of iron. Her skills were praised and feared far and wide, by humans, celestials, spirits and demons alike. Even the Jade Emperor himself knew her abilities were unmatched, and asked her to join his army; an offer which the princess gladly took up."

Iron Fan paused to look down at her son, who just nodded as if to say 'go on'. 

"For many hundreds of years, the princess defended the celestial realm alongside the other great warriors and deities. She was respected by all who knew her for her upstanding nature, strong morality and loyalty to her post. But that was all to change.

"One day the Jade Emperor called all his armies before him and told them that an uprising had begun amongst a small but powerful group of demons. 'They want to take our realm' He said, 'They want to take my throne. They are not many, but they are strong, and are led by Sun Wukong himself. This is a fight we risk losing, so I give this command to you all- win this fight, or let it be your last.'

"The armies of the Celestial Realm heeded his words as they prepared for battle, and fear crept over them as they realised that they might very well die in the days to come. But the Iron Fan Princess was not afraid- and she said it out loud: 'Nothing has taken us down yet. We will not be defeated.' So she went to the fight with her head held high.

"As the armies stood facing against the demons and the fight began, the Third Prince Nezha told the princess that he would fight the Monkey King, but he needed her to take down the most formidable in his coterie: the Demon Bull King. She wasted no time; she threw herself into the fray, yelling, 'Bull, face me!' She flew at him, and he turned. Their eyes locked for the first time.

"For a moment it was like the world went still around them. The princess caught sight of her reflection in the Demon Bull King's eyes, and saw a version of herself she was not familiar with. Most looked at her with respect and fear, beholding a upstanding, loyal servant of the Emperor with unmatched martial prowess and strength. But in this demon's eyes she saw a different woman- no less dangerous, yet less intimidating. He was not afraid of her. And to the princess that was fascinating.

"She never spoke to her adversaries before then, but as she tried to strike him or knock him down she asked why he was so fearless. 'Because the moment I saw you,' He answered, 'I knew it would be an honour to fight you.' 'And is it?' The Princess asked, and he replied that it was, and the princess then told him that this still did not answer her question. 'To tell you the truth, noble soldier,' The Demon Bull King replied, 'I do not care if I win this battle or lose. I did before, but now it hardly matters. You may kill me, if you want.'

"The princess asked him why his life now carried no weight to him anymore, and so he told her: 'I am just realising now that my life is empty. I try and try to fill it up, but I can never make myself truly happy with any amount of wine or glory. I do not know what I want, not really, but I know that I don't want to hurt you.'

"The princess felt a strange feeling in her heart, and the fight went out of her. 'I do not want to hurt you either.' She realised aloud.

"So they ran, as far and as fast as they could. The revolt failed, the Monkey King was imprisoned, and the Jade Emperor was enraged to find one of his greatest and most loyal soldiers gone, but neither of them cared. From that moment on, they decided to live only for each other. Alright, now that that's done-" Princess Iron Fan was about to resume her work, but Red Son tugged on her sleeve.

"Mother," His eyes were fixed intently on her, "You forgot the last part."

"Red Son, I really have to-"

"Well it can't just be left out, it's important!" Red Son argued, surprising Iron Fan with the sincerity in his eyes and voice. She certainly did not deem the last few sentences of her story crucial, but they evidently carried a lot of weight for her son.

Oh well, what was an extra minute or two wasted? Iron Fan had plenty of time at her disposal.

"... And after some time they found they were not living just for themselves, but also for someone new," She continued, "They had a child, a baby boy, whom they loved more than anything in whole wide world, who was sure to be just as great and powerful as they were. And so the Demon Bull Family was formed, father, mother and son. And I believe that is it."

Red Son stood up with the slightest smile, and turned to leave. He paused in the doorway.

"Umm..." His eyes roamed as he thought to himself for a moment, "Thankyou."

And then he left.

This was strange. At least, Iron Fan felt it was. Why would Red Son ask for that old anecdote now? He was lucky she hadn't forgotten it after all these years.

As she went back to her work another thought flitted across her mind. Why had he been so invested? Especially in the last part? Probably because it was about him, but still...

...Whom they loved more than anything in the whole wide world... Just as great and powerful as they were...

Red Son flopped down onto his bed, turning those words over and over in his head.

He hoped Nezha was right. He hoped his parents really did love him as much as they did back then.

These days though... Well, it was easier to feel that his parents loved the whole wide world a lot more than they loved Red Son.

Chapter Text

Red Son, despite his promise to himself and Nezha to try improving things with his parents, found himself at a complete loss for ways to do so. After weeks had passed there was still no epic opportunity to prove himself, nor any situations to spend meaningful time together.

Mostly, Red Son did his thing, and his parents did theirs. He could tell they were working on something, but neither of them had told him anything about it. Probably because they thought he would just end up messing it up like he always did.

It was not like he was isolated from them- they ate, talked and did things together, but Red Son always felt awkward in these interactions. Most of the time it felt as if there was a barrier between himself and his parents, and the more he tried to break it down the more he realised how solid it was.

"I'm going out," Princess Iron Fan said as she tweaked her hair and checked her makeup in the mirror, "Don't ask where."

The Demon Bull King looked up, his brow furrowing.

"Should I be concerned?" He lowered the book he had been reading onto his lap.

"Oh, it's nothing for you to worry about, darling," Iron Fan replied breezily, then glared into the mirror like her reflection owed her money, "I just made one or two foolish mistakes in my past and they've come back to haunt me."

"...Is someone blackmailing you?"

"Worse." Iron Fan began touching up her lipstick. 

"Do I need to kill someone?" The Demon Bull King began to stand up, but his wife held up her hand to quell him.

"My Love, you know that I can handle myself," She stood up, crossed the room and kissed him, "You just stay here and relax. I shall return as soon as possible."

With that she surrounded herself with a sphere of swirling wind, and when the air cleared she was gone.

The Demon Bull King tossed aside his book and went to find his son.

Red Son was not in his room, nor any garage or workshop, so the Bull King made his way to his last remaining regular haunt. Sure enough, he found Red Son in the kitchen, looking into the steamer with a satisfied smile. Three plates were ready on the kitchen bench, and a small television had been set up beside them, currently muted as the screen displayed advertisements for a cooking show the Demon Bull King was not familiar with.

"Ah! Father!" Red Son turned around, taking the Demon Bull King's eyes off the screen just as the show came back from it's ad break and the words 'FOOD WARS' appearing on the screen in big letters, "Excellent timing, I was just about to serve up. You and Mother should prepare for dinner."

"Your Mother will not be joining us," The Demon Bull King said, and Red Son felt his heart sink, "She just went out."

"What- what do you mean 'she went out'?!" Red Son cried, "When will she be back?!"

"She didn't say."

Red Son's eyes wandered to the steamer, where a beautiful golden-brown duck had been cooking for hours on end. He sighed and put one of the plates away.

The Demon Bull King noticed his dejection and realised that whatever Red Son had been cooking, he had put a lot of time and effort into it.

"Is that supposed to be something special, because-" He began.

"It doesn't matter." Red Son snapped in a way that implied that it did matter, quite a bit.

The Demon Bull King watched as Red Son took the duck from the steamer and began ripping out the threads used to hold it together. Some of the stuffing spilled out, and the Bull King saw that it had been filled to bursting with pork, rice, assorted nuts, lotus seeds as well as dried mandarin peel, mushrooms and ginger. Red Son must've been at this for almost the whole day.

"It looks delicious." The Demon Bull King tried to make him feel a little better about the situation.

"Thankyou." Red Son reached for a glass of water resting next to the TV. He looked a little surprised, and picked up the remote, muttering, "Thought I turned this off ages ago," under his breath as he took a mouthful of water.

Before he could hit the power off button, he started as though he had just been grabbed suddenly from behind. Water spurted from his mouth and he stood in a state of shock, staring at the screen in disbelief.

"What is-" The Demon Bull King's gaze fell on the TV, and if he had been drinking at that moment he would have spat in shock too.

The screen showed a live broadcast of some cooking competition in an arena. The camera was currently focused on a judge's table with three chairs- two of which were currently empty. And seating herself in the first chair in the line-up, in her particular way that made her appear to fall into the seat while still retaining absolute grace and elegance, was none other than Princess Iron Fan.

The Demon Bull King and Red Son turned into unison to meet each other's gaze.

"Well, now we know where she went." Was all Red Son could say.

"My wife is judging a mortal cooking competition." The Demon Bull King stated in disbelief.

"It would appear so."

"Well, turn the sound on!" The Demon Bull King cried, and Red Son scrambled to hit the unmute button.

By now the second judge was being introduced- who, to the Demon Bull King's rage, turned out to be a flimsy cardboard cutout of the Monkey King fitted out rather poorly with a record that seemed to only play a few tinny automated responses.

"THAT SIMIAN!!!" The Bull King slammed his fist down on the bench, making Red Son jump, "HE HAS REALLY HIT ROCK BOTTOM IF HE HAS COME TO THIS! SHOW UP TO YOUR EVENTS IN PERSON, COWARD!!"

Red Son stared at the screen as the third judge was introduced. The commentator didn't give a name (not that it would have been of any use to him if they had), but Red Son was sure he recognised the scrawny, bespectacled man occupying the third seat.

"Father," Red Son touched the Demon Bull King's arm to draw his attention away from his ongoing feud with Sun Wukong, "That man with the glasses- wasn't he a friend of the-"

The as he spoke, the screen transitioned to showing a nervous looking pig-man and a young man with dark spiky hair, a yellow jacket and the most annoying face Red Son had ever seen.

"NOODLE BOY!!!" Red Son pointed at the screen.

"THAT LITTLE THEIF IS EVERYWHERE!" The Demon Bull King shouted.

Red Son's watched the screen, barely taking in what was going on. Why couldn't he ever avoid those noodle brains? Well at least there only seemed to be the three of them there. The big blue guy was nowhere to be seen, and the dragon girl still hadn't shown up yet... and she probably wasn't going to, AND RED SON DIDN'T GIVE A DAMN IF SHE DID OR NOT.

So there. He ignored the sudden rush of warmth to his face and focused back on the actual contents of the show.

The dishes had been served: a warm, hearty noodle soup from the noodle brains, and from their opposition (two common demons that Red Son didn't recognise, both trying to look very flashy and failing) something greyish that resembled dumplings.

Red Son really, really didn't want to watch the Noodle Boy and his stupid friends win, but the sweet taste of projected victory was probably going to resemble soggy cardboard.

The Demon Bull King's fists tightened as Princess Iron Fan took the smallest bite she could of the Monkie Kid's meal. He could see her melt internally as she tasted it, her resolve weakened, her heart warming towards the enemy...

"Be strong, Dear." He growled under his breath.

As if she had heard him, Iron Fan snapped out of it and cried, "There's no way I'm voting for your restaurant!"

The Demon Bull King sighed in relief as she slammed her hand down on the button and announced that her vote went to Speedy Panda- which the Demon Bull King had never heard of, but anything was better than Sun Wukong's thieving protege and his little band of friends. Unless, of course, it was the Spider Queen, but even then...

He huffed and snorted in annoyance.

Beside him, Red Son's anger boiled over as he watched the bespectacled judge give his vote to Pigsy's Noodles.

"That's unfair!" He yelled at the screen, flames shooting from his mouth, "He's biased! This whole voting system is biased!"

So it was all down to Sun Wukong... or rather the cardboard cutout of him. It was ridiculous to think that cardboard could have preferences, and yet they watched as the thing buckled and crumpled over, right into the noodles, declaring through pre-recorded audio that it fully endorsed this product (or sports event).

"He endorsed Pigsy's!" The Noodle Boy cried, "He endorsed it!"

"SIMIAN!!!" The Demon Bull King grew a few feet and collected a few pounds of muscle in sheer rage.

"NOODLE BOY!!!" Red Son's hair burst into flames while his eyes flared and sparked.

Both father and son raged at the television as the commentator pronounced their old enemies the winners of the round. How much more infuriating could this show become?

"Alright, Pigsy, what's say we up the ante a bit?" One of the demons representing Speedy Panda suggested, and the Bull King and Red Son fell silent to listen, "Let's make this final contest sudden death!"

"Yeah!" The other one grinned deviously, "Loser has to close their restaurant forever!"

"Don't gotta ask us twice!" The pig-man snapped back, "We'll mop the floor with you dorks!"

Unfortunately, they probably could, if it came down to cooking. Red Son was about to kiss vicarious victory goodbye, when the final challenge was announced- a trial of combat.

"Oh yes!" The Demon Bull King laughed as the demons revealed their gigantic battle mech, "They will be absolutely pulverised!"

"Remember, Father, the Noodle Boy is ridiculously overpowered for what he seems," Red Son frowned, "Not to mention luck always seems to be on his side."

"But they can destroy the pig!"

"Oh, yes, they can definitely do that."

The pig in question seemed to be descending into despair. As Red Son watched him lament his lost livelihood and the fall of his family tradition, he felt a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.

No, No! He did not feel pity for the pig-man. There was no way he could ever feel compassion for someone so... so... pathetic.

"No way!" The Noodle Boy's ever-annoying voice derailed his train of thought, "I may not understand your irrational love for noodles, or working hard, or being angry all the time, but you are always there when I need you, so it's time for me to return the favour!"

Red Son and the Demon Bull King both booed as the Noodle Boy pulled out his staff, grabbed the pig man by the hand and flung the both of them up into the sky. The power-up was flashy as always, but as usual the mech was without any of the true artistry of mechanical engineering. That was something Red Son always hated: how he could pour as much time as he could into manufacturing the perfect device, only for it to be destroyed by some idiot with a magic staff.

"Here we go..." Red Son muttered, and his father grumbled incoherently.

"Us little guys are fighting back!" The Monkie Kid on the screen declared, "Your tyrannical reign over the food sector in this city is over!"

"I should have killed him before he ever got that staff." The Demon Bull King growled.

"Agreed." Red Son frowned at the screen.

"No amount of convenience will ever win the hearts of us food lovers!" Glasses guy was back, it seemed.

He and the pig-man had a loving exchange of words that would have been very heartwarming if Red Son and the Bull King had not immediately begun yelling about how ridiculous they were and to start fighting already.

"Oh yeah?!" Right on cue, the little demons brought forth their mech and a legion of workers, which made the men of the Demon Bull Family cheer loudly enough to shake the fortress, "Bring it on, little piggies!"

"Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!" Red Son began to chant, and, to his surprise, his father joined in with his booming voice.

"Alright then MK, what do you say we show these two what being a real chef is all about?!" The pig-man geared up for battle.

"Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!"

"Well go on then lads!" One of the little demons cried, "GET 'EM!!!"

"KILL THEM! KILL THEM! KILL THEM!"

And just when the battle was about to start, just when the two opposing sides threw themselves at each other, just when the Demon Bull King and his son's voices reached a crescendo, just when Princess Iron Fan, sitting just off camera, came to regret every life decision that had brought her to this, a demon woman jumped into the fray and pushed everyone back.

"Awwwww..." Red Son and the Demon Bull King's enthusiasm deflated as the demon informed her two colleagues that they'd gone bankrupt, and the fight was finished before it had begun.

"I suppose Noodle Boy wins by default, then." Red Son sighed.

"We knew he would succeed either way," The Demon Bull King grumbled, "He always does."

Father and son looked over at each other, and, to the surprise of both, began to laugh.

"Can you believe it?!" Red Son found himself giggling, "They thought they could take on the Monkie Kid, when he was strong enough to defeat us!"

"They wouldn't stand a chance," The Demon Bull King snickered, "And can you believe Wukong has a cutout of himself to do his events for him?!"

"You would think he'd enjoy the publicity-" Red Son was cut off with an explosion of deep, hearty laughter from his father. It caught him off guard; he was used to eruptions of anger, not mirth.

"Oh, but you never knew him like I did!" The Demon Bull King said between bursts of laughter, "Of course, he likes to put on a show, but Sun Wukong is, and always has been, terrified of public speaking. An event like that would have made him wet himself!"

Red Son chuckled, but it was strange to laugh with his father for once. It was a good kind of strange, though.

"What was it like?" Red Son asked nervously, "Being friends with the Monkey King?"

"Never a dull moment," The Bull King wiped happy-tears from his eyes, "Go get dinner ready, and I will tell you all about it."

"Oh, right." Red Son had completely forgotten about the meal he'd cooked. His mood deflated as he went to carve up the duck, wondering why, out of all the nights, his mother was absent for this one.

But maybe it wouldn't be too bad. Mother would probably be home soon, and in the meantime, Father was happy and wanted to talk with him. Perhaps tonight had turned out to be a good night after all.

"Here, Father!" He carried two plates into the dining room, hurriedly set the table, and sat the Demon Bull King down. Red Son sat across the table and fixed his eyes eagerly on him.

"Well..." The Demon Bull King silently wondered where to begin. He'd never told his son much of his life before Princess Iron Fan and the formation of their family. There was a lot to say, but where to start?

"Back before I met your mother," He began, "I was part of a small brotherhood of skilled and powerful demons. Sun Wukong thought himself the leader- He might have been, I'm not sure if we ever decided on one- anyhow, he was entertaining back then. Never failed to make me laugh."

Red Son smiled. In his reminiscence, his father seemed to become younger, happier and softer on the inside. Perhaps everything would be a little better if Sun Wukong could still make him laugh, instead of rage.

"We used to play this game," The Demon Bull King continued, chuckling a little, "The idea was I would try and throw my brothers as far as I could. Wukong loved it. I could only throw the others half a mile at most, but he would disappear over the horizon-"

"What changed?"

The Demon Bull King was jolted from his memories by Red Son's interruption.

"Why did you stop being brothers?" Red Son asked, "Why did he trap you under-"

"You know, Red Son, this is wonderful," The Demon Bull King busied himself with his food, "When did you learn to cook like this?"

"Uh... well..." Red Son couldn't help but be taken aback by the sudden change of subject, "I taught myself, mostly. I find recipes and... work them out from there, I suppose."

He stabbed the duck with his fork absentmindedly, feeling a growing sense of awkwardness now that the focus was on him.

"I was going to make this around the New Year, but everything happened, you know with the Spider Queen and..." He trailed off and scooped a forkful of the filling into his mouth.

As he chewed, a thought came to him.

"...Umm," Red Son swallowed and put down his fork, knitting his fingers together, "I could show you how I cook. I mean I could teach you. If you wanted to learn, that is. But if-"

"Good idea," The Demon Bull King said, "But we will have to start simple. If you are willing to babysit me in the kitchen, then yes, I would like to be taught."

"Oh," Red Son felt a smile creep across his face, "Wonderful."

The air in the room began to stir, and a whirlwind formed in Princess Iron Fan's usual seat.

"Mother!" Red Son jumped up as the wind dissipated around her, "You're home! Wait here, I'll get your dinner."

He ran to the kitchen, smiling to himself the whole way. Iron Fan was a little puzzled by his abnormally cheerful behaviour; she must have missed a lot.

"So, Darling," The Demon Bull King said, catching her attention from across the table, "You never told me you were a judge for mortals' cooking competitions."

Iron Fan pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed wearily, her shoulders slumping.

"Why me?" She muttered, as her husband laughed.

"You did wonderfully, Dear," His laughter subsided into a sincere, somewhat apologetic tone, "I mean it."

"Thankyou," Iron Fan gave him a tired smile, "Now, we shall never speak of this again."