Changed Fate

Chapter 22 - Banquet Preparations

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."