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Chapter Text

Neither of them knew what to anticipate on that momentous day when Azure and the Jade Emperor reached the conclusion that the treaty was finalized, and the rules were firmly established.  Peace was at hand.

The delicate balance of this peace would be maintained through one decisive act; Sun Wukong, the legendary Monkey King, would lower his magical staff to the ground, its golden surface gleaming in the light, and vow never to lift it again. The air seemed to hold its breath, charged with anticipation as this symbolic gesture promised to usher in an era of tranquility.

Should either side break this fragile peace, war would surely follow. Still, despite loosing his staff, Wukong’s heart felt steady, knowing this next generation would be one of peace- That their child would grow up not knowing war. 

As they flew over their home, Macaque leaned into Sun Wukong’s side, whispering quietly to his mate, “Are you certain you are okay with this?” as they landed, they hopped off together, finding it strange to return home with no plans of leaving any time soon. They could truly put all of their efforts into their lives, and the family they wished to start. 

"Of course," Sun Wukong tilted his head, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips as he gazed at Macaque. His golden eyes, usually alight with mischief, now held a depth of resolve. "I’ve swung that staff for centuries," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of memories both triumphant and tumultuous. "But if laying it down means our kid never has to see what I’ve seen, then it’s worth it. Besides," he added with a playful nudge, "I’ll always have my wit and my charm. Who needs a staff when you’ve got me?"

Macaque chuckled softly, “I’ve only ever needed you.” The two stood together in their courtyard, the air filled with the scent of blooming peach trees. It was a place they had fought for, bled for, and now, finally, it was theirs to simply live in. Macaque lifted his head, his auburn eyes softening as they met Wukong’s,"A life without war," Macaque murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile peace. "It’s strange, isn’t it? After so long, we can finally stop fighting." He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from Wukong’s forehead, his touch lingering for a moment.

The Monkey King chuckled softly, the sound warm and familiar. "Strange? Maybe. But good. It’s good, Mihou." He turned to face him fully, his golden eyes reflecting the soft glow of the setting sun. "We’ve spent lifetimes clashing with gods and demons-” He stepped closer, leaning into his touch, “I almost lost you and myself to them.” So many years suffering, fighting, falling to pieces just because a few pompous gods felt their way was the only way. “I promised you a family, a child, and a future where we could be more than just Stone Monkeys. I intend to keep that promise." Wukong's voice was firm, but there was a tenderness in his gaze that spoke 

Macaque’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, one that Wukong hadn’t seen in far too long. These last few years have been a challenge for both of them. Macaque spent most of his time recovering, mending himself from the wounds that Lady Bone Demon had inflicted on his very body when she possessed him nearly 100 years ago. 

The scars, both physical and emotional, still lingered, but they were healing. Slowly, but surely. And now, standing here with Wukong, Macaque felt a semblance of peace he hadn’t known in centuries. "You’ve always kept your promises," he whispered, "Even when it seemed impossible."

Wukong leaned closer, placing a tender kiss on Macaque's temple. The thought of nearly losing his partner because of his own mistakes tormented him, and he couldn't forgive himself for making Macaque doubt their love, even momentarily, and seek solace with that witch. Macaque exhaled gently, his shoulders easing as he leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Wukong's waist to draw him near. "I can sense what you're thinking," he whispered, understanding his partner all too well.

Wukong tightened his embrace, resting his chin on Macaque’s shoulder, “You always could,” he admitted, his voice tinged with both affection and weariness. 

“Our child will be born soon, Peaches. The war is over, and we are both here. Our Brothers are thriving, my Sister and her husband have their own little one.” a very explosive little one. “Who, by the way, we helped sooth the embers of his soul as well so that he can grow freely.”

Wukong considered that, “I… It is going well, yes, but-”

“So then promise me something new.” Macaque interrupted, pulling back just enough to meet Wukong’s gaze. “Promise me you won’t carry that guilt forever.” 

Wukong hesitated, his grip tightening slightly as though he clung to more than just Macaque. "Mihou," he started, his voice quivering. "I can't promise that. Every time I look at you, I see the scars, the pain I caused. I see the years we lost because of my pride, my mistakes." He paused, when he watched the smile fall ever so slightly on Mihou’s lips, "But I can promise you this—I will spend every day trying to make it right with you, with us, with our family."

Macaque cupped Wukong’s face in his hands, his touch gentle but firm. “You already have,” he said softly. Wukong’s breath hitched, and he leaned into his mate, his eyes searching the other’s face for any hint of doubt. But there was none—only love, forgiveness, and a quiet strength that had always led his way. “You’ve done more than enough,” Macaque assured, their foreheads touching. 

The courtyard was silent save for the soft rustle of peach blossoms drifting lazily on the breeze. Wukong’s breath steadied, the weight in his chest easing ever so slightly as he allowed himself to believe Macaque’s words. Here, in this moment, with Macaque’s hands on his face and their child growing within the safety of their home, he let his shoulders relax. 

As he lifted his partner's chin to kiss him, Macaque’s lips met his with a softness that spoke of years of understanding, of battles fought side by side and countless moments of quiet intimacy. It was a kiss that carried the weight of their shared history, yet it was light, like the first breath of spring after a long winter. Wukong sighed into it, his hands finding their way to Macaque’s back, pulling him closer as if he could erase the distance between them entirely. When they finally parted, Macaque’s cheeks were faintly flushed, his breath uneven.

Wukong smiled at such a sight, "You always know how to make me feel better," he said, his voice warm with affection. He brushed a stray strand of hair from Macaque’s face, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of his ears.

Macaque turned his head, the sensation ticklish, "Someone has to keep you in check, Peaches," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Or else you’d spend all your time brooding."

"Me? Brooding?" Wukong feigned offense, “I never brood.” 

“Right right, of course.” Macaque jested, leaning into the Sun Monkey’s chest to steal. He seemed to be winding up to say more, but the Moon Monkey froze, ears fluttering to the wind. 

Wukong took notice,  "Is everything alright?" he asked. His mate turned his head slightly, quiet for a troubling amount of time. “Mihou?” he prompted again.  

 “I’m not sure.” the other finally admits. “The tribe has gathered.” He looked to the top of the mountain. Now that it was mentioned, they both found it odd they hadn’t been swarmed by their family yet- the monkeys mysteriously unseen. “They are all at the top of the mountain.” He trailed off, eyes widening. 

They both were very aware of what sat at the top of their mountain. 

Exchanging a fleeting, wide-eyed glance filled with urgency, they sprinted down the narrow, winding path to rejoin their tribe. Macaque was sinking into the ground while Wukong took to the sky, a race to get there first. 

Moments later, they stumbled into the sanctuary nestled at the mountain's peak—a tranquil nursery where their little one lay nestled in a soft cradle, safe and sound so that they could absorb both the Sun and Moon’s energy with the passing days. 

The Tribe had found their way to the location, having been there for who knows how long before their King’s arrived. They parted the moment Macaque rose from the shadows of the trees, eyes wild with concern. 

"What is—?" he stammered, his voice trailing off into a shocked whimper as something small and soft came into view. He quickly brought his hand to cover his mouth.

With a rush of air, Wukong touched down next to his partner. He was breathless and unsteady on his feet, having been gripped by panic during the brief moments it took to climb up to their dwelling. His face shifted from anger to something close to tears as a gentle chirp filled the air. It was a chirp he did not know, but he didn’t need to have heard it before to know exactly who it belonged to. 

"Mihou..." he murmured softly. His partner nodded slowly in response. 

Sitting on the ground, circled by their tribe and their people, was the young prince.

Their son. 

Their Baby, who they had agreed to name Qi Xiaotian. This was mostly due to the fact that neither could agree on whether to use Liu’er or Sun and argued far too much on the matter. So it was left to a third option they could both agree on. 

His fur was a sweet Chocolate color, his eyes as Golden as Wukong’s. A cute little bang fell over his eyes, resting against a chubbier cheek. On the sides of his head, his Baba’s ears were resting- all 6 like the color of a sunset with a splatter of magenta red. He was currently holding his own tail, hugging it against his small chest. The slightest lean one way or another seemed to teeter the unbalanced child, who swayed back and forth precariously. The Monkeys were quietly reaching out to straighten the baby back into a sitting position, chirping in praise to their Prince. 

Macaque fell to his knees, his arms caught by Wukong who couldn’t seem to hold either of them up and just fell with him. Arm in arm, they laughed wetly. Tears stained Mihou’s face, pulling forth a rare grin. 

“He has yours eyes.” Macaque says. He had hoped, with all his being he had hoped their child would take after Wukong when it came to eye color. “He’s here.”

Wukong nodded numbly, burying his face against his mate’s head. “Our Baby.” 

In their tears, they rejoiced. The next chapter of their lives were beginning. Their infant was as beautiful as the crystal sands that surrounded their home. Sweet and round. He was everything they hoped for and more. Forget the war, forget the celestial realm- none of it mattered anymore. They were parents and an official family. They turned to embrace the other, soaking in the sight of their precious little boy. 

Their lovely little Prince who had… two tails? 

Mihou sniffled, frowning a little when he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. Angling his head a tad, there was definitely a second tail trailing out from behind Xiaotian. It was far lighter in color, nearly white.  “Um…” Macaque tapped Wukong’s hand a little to draw his eyes upward. 

Xiaotian turned his head and chirped, his body moving just enough for a second pair of eyes to peek out from behind him. 

The two older monkey’s froze. “Wait a minute…??” Wukong leapt to his feet to get a better view of the area. Stepping closer it was clear what he was seeing was not what it appeared to be. Their single child, upon closer inspection, seemed to have something- or someone, behind them. Wukong held his breath as he leaned forward, officially spotting a secondary body nearly hidden behind Qi Xiaotian. A second baby… 

Twins. 

Slowly the King peered back at his mate, pale. “Did we order two…?” he whispered. 

Macaque was slapping the ground with vigor, rushing forward to take this in for himself, “Two?!” he says, more in delight than in shock. 

Lifting his head up, the second child in question lost his balance and fell to the side. He chirped, immediately rolling against Xiaotian. The two cubs squealed, wrestling and rolled into each other as their confused parents watched from above. 

This new cub was creamy white, cupping bouncy cheeks and sunset tinted eyes. The spitting image of Macaque, down to the brighter fur he had when he was just a cub himself.  

Wukong nodded, a little smile pulling at his lips, “This one has your eyes. He looks just like you when you were little.” 

Macaque reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he gently brushed his fingers over the white-furred cub’s head. The baby cooed, his tiny tail flicking as he leaned into the touch. Xiaotian, seemingly jealous of the attention his sibling was getting, let out a soft chirp and ended up just toppling over his brother. 

The two tumbled in a heap of fluffy fur and tiny limbs, their squeals of delight filling the air. Macaque couldn’t help but laugh, his heart swelling with an indescribable warmth as he watched them. Wukong crouched beside him, his arm slung over Macaque’s shoulders, his grin wide enough to split his face.

“Two,” Macaque repeated, still in awe. “We have two.”

“Twins,” Wukong said, shaking his head in disbelief. “How did we not know? I mean—I thought we only carved one…?

A thought dawned on Macaque, drawing the color from his face, “We don’t have a name for him.” he realized, horrified. In all accounts, they had only carved a single cub. Though, just because they were born of stones that did not necessarily mean they were all knowing about the process. 

Wukong slapped his own forehead, gasping. “What do we do?!” 

Macaque groaned, burying his face in his hands. “We’re terrible parents already.”

“No, no, we’re not!” Wukong hurried to reassure him, though his voice was tinged with panic. “We just… didn’t expect this, that’s all. It’s a surprise! A good surprise!”

“A surprise that doesn’t have a name!” Macaque shook his head in dismay. 

“We’ll name him. We will.” Wukong reached his hand out, distracted by the sights of his sons. Sons- by the stars, he was a Father now. 

His fingers gently grazed the top of Xiaotian's fuzzy head, marveling at its softness. In response, the chocolate-colored cub raised his head, surprised by the touch. His tail fluffed up as he turned his head frantically to locate the source before realizing it was his Father. Xiaotian chirped joyfully, his tiny hands stretching out towards Wukong. Meanwhile, the second cub, who still hadn't been named, sensed the change in focus and awkwardly rolled toward Macaque. His sunset-colored eyes were wide with curiosity, and he emitted a soft, questioning coo, as if to say, "What about me?"

Macaque’s heart melted at the sound, and he scooped the white-furred cub into his arms with a soft laugh. “Alright, alright, little one. You’ve got my attention.” He cradled the baby close, his fingers instinctively brushing through the soft downy fur. The cub wriggled happily, his tail flicking against Macaque’s arm as he snuggled closer. “He’s got your personality already,” he teased to the Monkey King “Demanding attention.” 

Wukong smirked, looking down at Xiaotian, who had sat so sweetly in his lap. Relaxed, well mannered- “—and this one’s got yours,” Wukong shot back, his voice warm with affection. He gently booped Xiaotian’s nose, earning a delighted squeak from the cub. “Quiet, observant, and always listening.” he could see how the cubs ears were twitching, turning and lifting at every new sound. Already so curious. 

Despite being less than a day old, they held such strength to their fingers. Easily they could hold onto their parents, even hang from their shoulders as they stood up. “T-They are so little.” Wukong murmured, mindful of his strength. 

Macaque’s eyes were brimming with little tears, his expression soft at the sight of his loves. He leaned closer to pat the back of their second son, his brain searching for the perfect name. “I don’t even have a nickname,” he mourned, scolding himself. He looked at Xiaotian, “I was gonna call you Moon Drop.” 

Xiaotian blinked up at his father, his tiny nose scrunching as if considering the name. He chirped, a sound that resembled approval, and then promptly turned his attention back to the world around him, his golden eyes wide with wonder. The unnamed cub, still cradled in Macaque’s arms, let out a soft whimper, as if reminding his parents that he, too, needed a name.

Macaque bounced him a little. He couldn’t tell if the child was just fussy or truly did realize he didn’t have a name and was upset about it too- either way, it made him panic. “Oh, shh shh, it’s okay.” he nuzzled his head, “Oh I love you I love you-” he chanted, not even realizing his heart could be so open so quickly to one he hadn’t expected. He was so ready to have Qi Xiaotian in their life, but now they had this little one too. So bright and soft, “Like a Sun Spot~” Macaque’s voice trailed off, his eyes widening as the words left his lips. He looked down at the cub in his arms, the creamy white fur illuminated by the soft light filtering through the trees. “Sun Spot,” he murmured again, testing the name on his tongue. The cub tilted his head, then sneezed. 

It drew a laugh from Wukong and Macaque both. The Monkey King was grinning, “Moon Drop and Sun Spot~” the perfect nicknames from their Baba. 

This was it. This was the start to their new and wonderful life. Now they just needed an official name. Macaque offered, “Perhaps something like Xiaotian?”
“Might get confusing later on.” Wukong admits, bouncing Xiaotian in his arms. The child was squealing and smiling- teethless but undeniable in how his smile was as bright as the sun. 

Macaque was melting, “Oh Wukong, he smiles just like you.” It comes out as a whisper. 

Wukong’s chest swelled with pride. He lifted the twin gently, holding him almost like he would harm him immediately if he held on too tight. 

“Xiaotian,” he murmured. With his child in one arm, he slipped his other around Mihou’s waist, pressing his palm to the square of his back, intent to never let anyone take these treasures from him. 

He guided them back to the steps, to take their two new cubs home. It was a slow process, considering neither could pull their eyes away from the younglings. 

“We’ll have to make a second crib.” Mihou said his thoughts out loud, leaning against Wukong. 

“Could they share one? Don’t twins like to sleep with each other those first few months?” Wukong couldn’t recall where he learned this- somewhere on his Journey to the West maybe. Mihou gave a curious hum, bouncing their unnamed cub. 

“I don’t see a problem with that.” 

He grinned broadly, watching as his little Moon Drop, a bundle of soft fur and bright eyes, clambered across his shoulder, curious gaze fixed on his brother. Xiaotian, with his chubby cheeks and a sparkle of mischief in his eye, turned his head quickly, locking eyes with his sibling. Both cubs reached out with pudgy fingers, giggling as their small hands clapped together in the space between their fathers.

Xiaotian let out a gentle coo, a sweet, melodic chirp that filled the air. Each time the sound reached the unnamed cub's ears, they perked up, twitching slightly as if drawn by an invisible string. As the family made their way back to the waterfall, the rhythmic roar of water harmonized with the delightful echoes of baby babble bouncing between the parents' arms. Mihou, with a playful glint in his eye, moved his lips in sync with Xiaotian's chirping, mimicking the enchanting sound.

Hua, Xiaotian was saying. 

Chu, their second son was saying. 

“Hua.” Liu’er’s voice was a silent prayer, just an inch away from Wukong ear. 

Wukong could only hum in response, asking his mate to continue, while the rest of his senses continued to stay trained on his son, “What did you say, Moon?” he murmured. 

Liu’er Mihou spoke, “Qi Xiaohua.” 

Wukong felt his smile widening, gasping, “His name?” he asked, eager for this to be true. 

“I think it matches him well.” Mihou nuzzled against Wukong’s said, “His name will be Qi Xiaohua- a gift from both of us, and his brother.” 

“Qi Xiaohua…” Wukong watched Macaque lift Xiaohua up to the sun, admiring his beauty and smiling wider. “Qi Xiaotian and Qi Xiaohua. They’re perfect.” He suddenly whined a little, “But now I gotta think of a cute nickname for Xiaohua too.”
“Oh?” Macaque was curious, “Did you make one for Xiaotian already?” 

“Yeah, I was work shopping it,” his eyes twinkled, “You are gonna love this,” he stepped back a little, holding Xiaotian to his side. He held the child up, like displaying him to the world, “Say hello to… MK!”

Macaque stopped walking. “…” Slowly he adjusted Xiaohua to one hip, and put his hand on the other. “MK.” he repeated, nose scrunching in utter confusion. 

Wukong grinned, his tail flicking with pride. "Yeah! MK! Catchy, right? And it’s easy for him to say when he starts talking. MK!" He beamed, clearly pleased with himself as he held Xiaotian—now MK—a little higher, as if presenting him to the heavens.

Macaque blinked slowly, his expression flat. "MK…?" he repeated again, his tone deadpan. Xiaohua let out a soft giggle in his arms, as if sensing the absurdity of it all. Macaque pinched the bridge of his nose, as there was no M, or K, ANYWHERE in Xiaotian’s name??

Wukong lowered his arms, eyes so wide and innocent. As if realizing his mate didn’t like it, he grew a little sheepish, hugging Xiaotian back to his chest and swaying a little. Quietly he mumbled, “You know like… Monkey Kid?” Macaque’s ear’s twitched, eyes widening as he realized why Wukong decided on this strange name. The Monkey King… and his Monkey Kid. Macaque was too late to cover his mouth before his lips went wiggling into an adoring smile. Wukong was on it real fast, however. “You like it! You like it!” 

Macaque groaned, shaking his head, “No I don’t.” 

Wukong’s grin only grew, his tail swishing behind him like a mischievous whip. "You do! I can see it! You’re smiling!" He bounced Xiaotian in his arms, the cub giggling as his tiny hands reached up to tug at Wukong’s fur. "See? MK loves it too!"

Mihou rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the warmth spreading across his face. “Fine, fine. MK it is,” he conceded, though his tone was still laced with playful exasperation. He glanced down at Xiaohua, who was now babbling softly, his tiny fingers gripping the fabric of Macaque’s sleeve. “But don’t think you’re getting off so easily with Xiaohua’s nickname. I’m not letting you saddle him with something ridiculous.” 

“Ridiculously cute, you mean~” Wukong cooed. He wasn’t as good with names as his mate was, so it would take him some time to come up with a good one. 

In the midst of his thoughts, MK demanded Wukong’s attention again when he let out a sleepy little chirp with the cutest little yawn - a sight that had the famous Great Sage, swooning and crumbling at the sight. These two boys would have him wrapped around their fingers, he could already tell. 

“Is lil MK sleepy?” Wukong cooed at the boy, bringing him closer to his chest. 

“Being born is a heavy task to accomplish.” Mihou mused, taking careful steps across the stone path to the waterfall. Their children turned their eyes to it, mesmerized by the flowing water. 

Wukong took their small hands into his, carefully holding them outward. “Always will you be welcomed here.” he says, his words a solemn vow. He pressed their fingers to the water, the seal activating at their touch. Emerging in golden light the seal parted the waterfall for the two, highlighting their baby’s faces in its glow. 

They chirped in astonishment, little mouths hanging open in wonder. They sniffed, watching the water make room for a secret path for them to follow. 

Stepping beyond the water fall with their parents, Xiaohua and Xiaotian were taken deeper within the cave to the small home hidden within it’s depths. 

It was a tad darker in here then the opens skies outside, which frightened Xiaotian ever so slightly. He turned against his Father, hiding his face into his shoulders with a little whine. Realizing he was shy and perhaps nervous to such a new environment Wukong soothed him by rubbing his back. “It’s alright, MK.” He assured his cub 

On the other hand, Macaque was grunting as Xiaohua wiggled and squirmed, tugging on his fur insistently for his Baba to walk faster, pointing his little finger curiously to these new sensations- the rocks, the dripping water, it was all so new and exciting. He was practically buzzing with energy, drawing a laugh from his Baba. “Look at you. So eager to explore.” he kissed the top of Xiaohua’s head. “Just like your dad, huh?” he held him out. 

“Aww~ Like me?” Wukong asked, excited. 

Macaque smirked a little at the two, “I feel like that adventurous streak will bite you later.” he mused, knowing just how rowdy Wukong was as a child. It would be pretty poetic should Wukong have to deal with what everyone else had to when he was younger. 

Getting to their little home behind the waterfall, the two took the time to give a full tour, ending with their bedroom, where a nest and cribe awaited them.

He plopped against the nest, holding Xiaotian against his torso. The cub giggled when bounced a little from the drop down to the mattress, padding against his Father’s chest. Macaque settled Xioahua with them, stepping back to admire the view. 

“My two little Prince’s.” Wukong gushed at the two of them. “Wait until Azure and everyone see you. They are going to be so surprised!” 

“I know for sure we were.” Mihou moved away from the bed to open the drawer on the other side of the room, rifling through it to pull out a few onesie pajamas. “Well now I’m glad I was so obsessed with knitting so many outfits.” 

He weighed his options and chose a purple and orange combination. Returning to the bed, he found Wukong lying there with the little ones nestled on his chest, tugging and playing with his fur out of curiosity. They chirped together, full of enthusiasm to explore and get used to their new surroundings. 

Wukong's eyes were bright and full of wonder as he held the two securely on his chest with one hand, gently brushing their soft bellies with his thumbs. "I don't know how to let them go," he confessed as Liu'er approached, hugging them a little tighter to his chest. His husband responded with a firm frown.

“Well you better learn fast, because I want my turn with them.” he put his hand on his hip. 

Wukong’s lower lip puckered, “Can’t you just take one for now?”

"One it is," Mihou agreed, gently lifting Xiaohua by placing his hands under the child's arms. Xiaohua's little legs wobbled in the air as Mihou carried him to the other side of the bed to dress him in his pajamas. "Who's a good boy~?" Mihou murmured affectionately, laying Xiaohua down on the mattress. 

The cub giggled, reaching for his toes and gazing up at Mihou, his Baba, with awe. As Mihou skillfully maneuvered the child's arms and legs into the onesie, Xiaohua kept making grabby hands for him. Mihou's heart was like a puddle of warmth, his smile soft and filled with love. He leaned in and affectionately pressed his nose to Xiaohua's chest, relishing the sweet lavender scent. 

He smelled heavenly. Curious of Xiaotian’s scent, Macaque leaned back towards the nest. Even though Wukong cast a disapproving look to ensure Mihou wasn't trying to steal Xiaotian away, Mihou reached over to sniff Xiaotian's tail, enjoying the softness of his fur.

 Sweet bread and milk~

“How do they both smell so nice?” he marveled. 

Intrigued, Wukong sat up and lifted Xiaotian, pressing his nose against the child's neck. Xiaotian giggled and kicked his feet at the ticklish sensation. "What???" Wukong's eyes widened in surprise, and he leaned in for another whiff. "You're so sweet, I could practically devour you!" Wukong kissed his baby's plump cheeks and bent over, mimicking Mihou, to catch a whiff of Xiaohua's scent- lavender?? “Oh.” 

“I know.” Macaque nodded knowingly, stealing another sniff of Xiaotian. The two were gushing over their children’s smell for who knows how long, barely even registering the passing time until their cub’s eyes drooped. 

Bundled together and clinging tight to their twin, they snoozed peacefully. Their parents were wide awake, barely able to look away for even a moment. 

It seemed like a miracle that this was happening. In their youth, they never imagined they would be in this situation. Prior to meeting each other, each believed they were unique and alone. Yet now, they were beginning the next generation together.

“Wukong?” Macaque whispering, his fingers playing with a strand of Xiaohua’s fur. Wukong lifted his eyes, his blood red ruby eyes and golden irises shimmering in the soft light of the candle on the table. When their eyes met, he tilted his head. 

“What’s on your mind, Moon?” he asked. 

The Moon Monkey gave a little shrug, “I just-” he smiles, small but weak. He traced a finger to Wukong’s jaw to sooth himself, “I can’t help but feel nervous, I suppose.”

“Nervous?”
“I want to be good for them.” Macaque continued. He lifted the thin baby blanket that had been a gift from Ao Lie. It’s fine silk soft to the touch and easily covered over the babies to keep them warm. “I have no true idea how to be a parent.”

Wukong’s hand slipped over his, offering it a squeeze. “I know what you mean.” he exhaled shakily. “If I was 500 years younger, I would have probably laughed if someone told me I would be a Father one day.” he lifted Mihou’s hand, tenderly kissing his fingers. “Of course, I had some serious sense beat into me.” he winked at his mate, who snorted at him. His gaze softening he admits, “I’m nervous too. Terrified, actually.” 

Macaque chuckled softly, the sound barely more than a whisper, not wanting to disturb the sleeping cubs. “Terrified? You? The Great Sage Equal to Heaven?” His tone was teasing, but his eyes were warm, reflecting the candlelight like twin moons.

Wukong grinned, though it was softer than his usual smirk. “Yeah, well, even I have my limits. These two—” he glanced down at Xiaotian, who held his heart in a way that was truly astonishing, “—they’re so… small. Fragile. What if I mess up? What if I’m not strong enough to protect them?”

Macaque’s expression softened, his tail flicking gently as he leaned closer to Wukong. “You’re not alone in this, you know,” he murmured. “We’re in it together. And if you think for a second that I’d let anything happen to them, you’re crazier than I thought.”

Wukong let out a quiet laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’d probably tear the heavens apart before letting anyone lay a finger on them.”

“Damn right I would,” Macaque said with a smirk, though his voice was still low. After a few minutes, his head lulled to it’s side, resting against Wukong’s shoulder. 

The weight of it felt comforting, grounding. Wukong shifted slightly, making sure not to jostle the babies, and leaned into the touch. The room was quiet now, save for the soft breathing of their cubs and the occasional flicker of the candle flame. Macaque’s hand still rested on the blanket, his fingers absently tracing patterns over the silk. “Do you ever think about what they’ll be like?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “When they’re older, I mean.”

Wukong hummed softly, his gaze drifting to the ceiling in thought, “Wild and wonderful. Free.” 

Macaque smiled as he closed his eyes. That sounded wonderful to him. Snuggling in for a good nights sleep, Wukong couldn’t imagine a sight more beautiful. He could hardly sleep as his treasures snoozed in his arms. 

As the hours trickled by, Wukong’s senses drew him eastward. Quietly he lifted his head, peering out the window the the waterfall beyond- 

Something was approaching his mountain. 

Considering how to quietly leave his mate’s arms without disrupting him or their children, Macaque murmured to show his ears were ever seeking the far distant sounds. 

“Wheels.” he murmured, eyes still closed. 

Wukong almost clicked his teeth, quietly scolding his Moon, “You should be asleep,” he kissed his temple. 

“So should you.” Macaque didn’t open his eyes, nor make any attempt to uncurl from around their cubs. His brow furrowed, “It’s Nezha.” Only then did he peek open a single eye, “His breathing is strange.”

Wukong’s ears twitched, his focus sharpening. “Strange how?” he asked, his voice low but edged with concern.

Macaque’s tail flicked once, a subtle sign of his unease. “Labored. Like he’s hurt—or carrying something heavy. Something’s... wrong.” His eye closed again, but his expression remained tense, his grip on the blanket tightening imperceptibly.

 As Wukong’s sworn Brother, he wasn’t surprised Nezha would come to visit- but for it to be so late was a worry. Wukong hadn’t had a chance to see the kid for quiet a while with the celestial war put on hold and treaties in discussion for so long. Now that peace was found, he wouldn’t be surprised if Nezha was popping in for a home visit- but this didn’t quite feel like that. 

Wukong’s jaw tightened as he carefully disentangled himself from Macaque and the cubs, “I’m going to check on him,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to Macaque’s forehead and each of the cubs’ soft, downy heads. Macaque didn’t argue, though his hand brushed Wukong’s arm as he moved away, tracking his movements as the Monkey King slipped silently from the room.

Wukong moved like a shadow through their home, his golden eyes glinting in the dim light as he made his way to the entrance of the cave, parting the waterfall that kept them hidden within. The cool night air greeted him as he stepped outside, the stars above twinkling faintly behind a thin veil of clouds.

He shot to the tallest tree, peering out to the skies. The Moon was full and high, casting a gentle light across the landscape. 

In the distance, Wukong could just make out the faint shimmer of celestial armor and the faint glint of wheels spinning through the air. Nezha’s figure was unmistakable, but his mate had said, something was off. The normally poised and fiery warrior seemed... unsteady. His movements were jagged, his balance wobbling as his wheels hissed and sputtered, trailing faint wisps of smoke.

Wukong’s stomach dropped. Nezha didn’t falter. Ever.

Without hesitation, Wukong leapt from the treetop, bounding across the rocky terrain with lightning speed as he closed the distance. The wind rushed past him, carrying with it the faint tang of something metallic and sharp—blood. His heart pounded as he called out, "Nezha!" 

The young deity’s head snapped up, his pale face streaked with ash and sweat, his eyes wide and glassy. For a moment, it seemed like he didn’t recognize Wukong at all. Then his lips moved, forming words that were barely audible over the crackling of his faltering wheels. "Brother...” he was toppling, right out of the sky. 

Wukong lunged forward, his arms outstretched, catching Nezha just before he hit the ground. The impact sent a jolt through Wukong's frame, but he held firm, cradling his brother like he weighed nothing at all. "Hey, hey, I’ve got you," Wukong murmured, his golden eyes scanning Nezha’s face for any sign of what had happened.

Nezha’s breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps, his normally pristine armor scorched and dented. His lotus wheels sputtered and died completely, the celestial fire that fueled them extinguished as his magic faded- too weak to keep them going. He head fell to Wukong’s shoulder, ash coating his face, blood staining his clothes. Yet he smiled, his hand gripping Wukong’s arm, “…It’s been a while.”

Wukong’s grip tightened around Nezha, his chest tightening with a mix of frustration and worry. “What happened to you, bud?” he demanded, though his voice was softer than he intended. He glanced around, half-expecting an army or some monstrous foe to burst from the shadows, but the night remained eerily still.

Nezha coughed, a weak sound that rattled in his chest. “It’s… complicated,” he managed, his voice strained. His hand shook as he tried to push himself upright, but his strength failed him, and he slumped back into Wukong’s arms. “I-I’m sorry- I didn’t know what else to…” he grimaced, then his eyes softened. “We’re they born?”

Wukong’s expression softened, though the worry in his eyes didn’t fade. Of course the god of children were curious of the babies, “Yeah, they were,” he said gently, his voice carrying a mix of pride and concern. “Healthy, loud, and already causing trouble.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the sight of Nezha so battered and weak made it hard. “Macaque’s with them now. They’re safe.”

Nezha’s smile widened, though it was strained. “Good… that’s good.” He tried to lift his head again, but his strength gave out almost immediately, and he sagged. He could barely keep his eyes open. 

“Hey, don’t speak, okay? let’s get you inside.” Wukong squeezed him closer, gently lifting his brother off the ground to carry him back to his home. After a few steps, he asked, “They…” he murmured, trailing off. Nezha’s eyes lifted, curious. Wukong’s expression in return was complex, “You said “they”?” he looked down at Nezha, his golden sight seeking the truth, “How did you know it was more than one baby?” 

If this was anyone else, this question would have been a threat- but like the snarky little brother he was, Nezha gave a weak sneer, “I thought you said not to speak?”

“Nezha,” Wukong puffed his cheeks. 

Nezha’s lips twitched into a faint, knowing smile, then saddened with something unspoken, “They are the reason I am here.” 

Wukong froze mid-stride, his golden eyes narrowing as he stared down at Nezha. “What do you mean?” he asked. 

Nezha’s eyes fluttered. He wanted to say all he knew right there and the, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his limps were aching, and everything was growing dark. “They asked…” he mumbled. “I couldn’t- I said no- I didn’t want to- I couldn’t…” 

Wukong’s grip tightened instinctively as Nezha’s body went slack in his arms. “Nezha!” he barked, shaking him gently. The young deity’s head lolled to the side, his breathing shallow but steady. Wukong clenched his jaw. 

With a quick glance around to ensure they were alone, Wukong shifted Nezha’s weight in his arms and broke into a sprint, his golden fur bristling with urgency to return to his home and his mate. He was sure Macaque had heard all of their conversation, and maybe could make heads or tails of what was going on. 

When he managed to get back through the waterfall to their home, the guest bedroom was already prepared. Macaque was out of their nest, the cubs curled into a blanket and surrounded by a few shades to keep them warm and their sleep undisturbed. 

He stood with some medical supplies, ready to receive Nezha.  

Wukong wasted no time, gently laying Nezha on the cot Macaque had prepared. The shadow monkey was already at work, unraveling bandages and uncorking vials of healing salves without a word. His expression was calm, but Wukong could see the tension in his dark eyes—the same worry that gnawed at him.

Macaque’s hands moved with precision, brushing aside the scorched and broken pieces of Nezha’s armor to assess the damage beneath. His fingers paused briefly over a deep wound on Nezha’s side, the skin around it blackened and charred. He removed the chest piece to further examine his wounds, both grimacing at the sheer beating the kid had been through. 

“Who could have done this?” Wukong murmured, his fur lifting in quite fury. 

Macaque wasn’t sure as he took a wet cloth to Nezha’s forehead. “I’m more curious to why he came here.” When Wukong raised his eye brow, Macaque continued, “You two have always been close, but for the last- 500 years, we’ve been at odds.” Not that Wukong and Nezha were, it was just the sides they aligned themselves were. “The treaty was just signed today, so that would completely give Nezha full means to see you- but if he was hurt to this degree, why would he not return to his own forces? To the Jade Emperor, or his Father?” he shakes his head. 

Wukong frowned, his tail flicking restlessly behind him. “He said something about the cubs,” he muttered, glancing toward the nest where their newborns lay, peaceful and oblivious. “He said they’re the reason he’s here. That they asked… that he said no. But he didn’t finish.”

Macaque’s ears twitched, his expression hardening. “I heard.” he nodded. “I’m wondered who is ‘they’?” he asked, his voice low and cautious. “If he didn’t return to the celestial realm to seek aid, and had been asked and denied some request…” he trailed off. 

Wukong’s golden eyes narrowed, a flicker of unease passing through them. “You think someone from the celestial realm tried to get him to do something? Something involving the cubs?” He took a step closer to the nest, his protective instincts flaring as he eyed the tiny, sleeping forms of his children.

Macaque didn’t answer immediately. He finished tying off a bandage around Nezha’s side, his movements steady despite the weight of the situation. “It’s a possibility,” he said finally, his voice calm but laced with an edge of suspicion. “Nezha’s loyalty has always been to the celestial realm, but he’s also shown a stubborn streak when it comes to orders he doesn’t agree with. If someone pushed him too far, if they threatened something—or someone—he cares about…” Macaque’s gaze shifted to the cubs, his shadowy form flickering faintly. “He might’ve chosen to run rather than comply. Or, his denial to comply might have prompted-” his paused, his fingers coming into contact with the golden bang across the younger demons throat. 

He sharply inhaled, eyes sharp and fur standing upright the moment he realized what it was. Such a design was typical for the Celestial courts. Many wore similar things. The design even inspiring their restraints. 

“A circlet.” he gestured to it. 

Wukong was rushing forward. 

Wukong’s hands hovered over the golden circlet, his claws trembling with restrained fury. It was slender, almost delicate, but its presence around Nezha’s throat was anything but. The intricate carvings pulsed faintly, a sickly light that seemed to seep into the young deity’s skin as if leeching his strength. Wukong recognized it immediately— he had one upon his own brow for a time, after all. 

He had always seen Nezha with this but- he thought it was just a necklace! Not the actual thing. He was loyal, with or without it, so why would they keep this on him despite proving his complete devotion? 

His fingers brushed the clear bruises to his brother’s fair throat. It had been activated, recently. He felt sick to his stomach. 

Macaque’s hand was taking his own- to calm and lower WUkong back into his chair before the man leapt out of the home to fetch his staff and restart the war. “I’ll kill them-”

“Wait until he wakes up,” Macaque grasped his chin. “We are speculating here. We need to hear it from him first.’ 

Wukong’s chest heaved, his golden eyes burning with a fury that threatened to consume him. He glanced back at Nezha, lying pale and broken on the makeshift cot, the circlet around his throat a dark reminder of the cruelty that lurked in the celestial realm. “He’s been wearing that thing this whole time,” Wukong growled, his voice low and venomous. “And I never even noticed. I thought it was just… decoration.”

Macaque’s grip on Wukong’s chin tightened, his shadowy aura flickering with unease. “You couldn’t have known,” he said. There was never any sign of use… until now. Not to mention, Nezha’s Father- his whole family, was apart of the Celestial Court in some way or another. Surely, they both thought, they wouldn’t put something so barbaric on one of their own. 

Seems they were wrong. 

Memories flashed through his mind—moments where Nezha had flinched slightly at the mention of any type of circlet, where he’d hesitated when asked to use the spell itself- never able to even stammer the incantation, where he’d worn that faint, forced smile that Wukong had always chalked up to Nezha’s usual stoicism. Now, it all felt like a betrayal—not from Nezha, but from those who had placed the circlet upon him, who had bound him with chains meant for the most dangerous of demons. 

Perhaps once, he could see why Heaven felt it necessary, just as they had deemed it necessary for him. But even that single moment of time where Nezha was wild and uncontrollable- he was still just a child. 

He should have seen it. He should have known. 

Nezha stirred slightly, a faint groan escaping his lips as his fingers twitched. Wukong rushed to his side, taking his little brother’s hand into his own. 

Nezha’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused at first, but they sharpened quickly as recognition dawned. He tried to sit up, but Wukong gently pressed him back down. “Easy, easy,” Wukong urged, his voice softer now, though the anger still simmered beneath the surface. “You’re hurt.”

Nezha’s hand instinctively went to his throat, his fingers brushing against the circlet. His breath hitched, and he immediately pulled his hand away as if it burned him. Laying it back to his side, he took a few calming breaths. The smell of fruit and fresh spring water was over powering the room, grounding him, reminding him he was safe. He was here, in Flower Fruit Mountain. Not there. His eyes darted between Wukong and Macaque, the faintest trace of panic flickering in their depths before he masked it with practiced ease. 

“Brother,” Nezha croaked, his voice hoarse but steady. “I’m… fine.” 

Wukong’s jaw tightened, his grip on Nezha’s hand firm but careful. “You’re not fine,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Macaque sat next to Wukong to join them both, offering a small nod of greeting to Nezha, “Hello… Little Brother,” he cleared his throat. He had felt awkward calling Nezha that when they were still on the basic terms of “enemies”. Now however, he felt it was far more okay to accept the position of brother in law. 

A flicker of surprise crossed his features, but Nezha quickly masked it with a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “Right… Brother-in-law,” he rasped, his voice still rough but carrying a hint of warmth. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to that.”

Macaque’s lips quirked in a small, wry smile, though his shadowy eyes remained serious. “Take your time,” he said. “We’ve got all the time in the world now.”

Wukong, however, was not so easily distracted. His gaze bore into Nezha, searching for answers that he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear but knew he needed to. “Little Brother.” he frowned. 

Nezha shifted slightly at his forceful stare, trying to find a more comfortable position, but winced as pain shot through him. Wukong’s grip tightened imperceptibly, his gaze never leaving Nezha’s face.

“Tell me what happened,” Wukong demanded, though his voice was softer now, laced with concern rather than anger. “Who did this to you?”

Nezha hesitated, his fingers twitching again as if he wanted to touch the circlet but dared not. In truth, it was a miracle he even managed to get away. Corner as he was within the Jade Palace, soldiers, Erlang, -… his own Father, all closing in. 

He had been on their side for so long, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be on the other side of Celestial spears. To be looked at like a monster for hunt. He had barely come up to his Father’s knees when last this circlet around his throat was used. 

At the time, his Father had grimaced and looked away. He didn’t look away this time. 

Nezha’s throat tightened, his words caught in a tangle of emotion and frustration. “I’m the God of Children. The protector of the young. The Lotus Prince..” he listed a few things he had been called over the years. Titles that were important. Titles given to him for the values he carried on his back- for the morals and beliefs he shared with the world. His hands rolled into fists, his voice crackling, “The Jade Emperor had called me to speak with me alone. When I arrived, he was there with my Father, and Erlang Shen.” Nezha’s voice trembled slightly, but he forced himself to continue, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if reliving the scene. “They had a task for me. Something anyone could take, but they choose me because of my… connection to you.” he looked at Wukong, a pained look in his eyes. “I don’t know why, or how- but they knew today would be the day your children would be born.” 

The Sun and Moon Monkey held their breaths’ eye brows raising. “They knew,” Macaque repeated, “Then what did they need you for exactly?”

Nezha gave them a bitter and watery smile, “My own Father asked me, as a “Favor to the Jade Emperor”, to come to this mountain, where your seals would not alert you of me-” because the seals would not alert Wukong of allies.

“And do what?” Wukong’s voice was low, almost a growl, though he kept it controlled for Nezha’s sake. His golden eyes burned with a fire that would burn this world. “What were they going to have you do?”

Nezha’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, the memory of the encounter still raw. “They wanted me to kill one,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Just one. Just one of the twins, and leave with the body so you would never know.” 

Wukong’s grip on Nezha’s hand turned bone-crushing for a moment before he caught himself at Nezha’s hiss, releasing it with a muttered apology. His face was a storm, dark and unreadable, but his eyes—those fiery, golden eyes—spoke volumes. Macaque, usually so composed, had gone utterly still beside him, his shadowy aura flickering like a guttering flame.

“They wanted you to kill one of our children?” Wukong repeated, his voice dangerously calm. “And they thought you’d do it.”

Nezha’s gaze dropped to his hands, his fingers trembling slightly. “It’s why they-!” His voice rose in volume before choking down how upset he was. Choking down how betrayed he felt. “It’s why they summoned Azure, and demanded you put the staff down Today. To take you from the mountain so that I could-” he covered his mouth, feeling sick. 

His own Father had condoned it. He himself was a child that Heaven had made clear, the world would be better off without. He had been fighting, and fighting, and fighting for so long to prove his worth to those gods. To his Father, who he once believed held similar ideals to him.  

That every child, was worth protecting, no matter they be demon or not.

His Father had the nerve to ask Nezha to understand! 

He put a hand to his shoulder where his Father had squeezed, still able to hear his words in the back of his head, “You do not understand now, my Son, but those children, should they be allowed to grow, will bring nothing but the end of this world. They cannot be allowed to exist… Not both of them, however. I see the extensive burden we are asking you, so I have requested we rid the three realms of only one of the two. As a parent, I understand Sun Wukong- and it would be cruel to completely deny him his own kin.” 

As it was the original intention to rid the world of both, but his Father convinced the Jade Emperor to spare at least one cub. 

As if that would make it better! 

Wukong’s tail lashed behind him, a sharp whip-like motion that betrayed the restraint he was barely holding onto. His golden eyes, a burning red now, flickered with an intensity that could have scorched the heavens themselves. “They thought they could use you,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “They thought they could make you their blade. My children—our children—barely hours old, and they were already planning their destruction.”

Macaque stepped forward, his shadowy form rippling with barely-contained fury. His ears were fluttering, his eyes flickering purple as his fur bristled. He had always been one to hide his emotions behind the mask of his face- always able to keep calm and cool- but his teeth were bared, “And what did you say to them, Nezha?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

Nezha looked up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears but burning with defiance. “I refused,” he said, his voice steady now, firm despite the weight of his confession. “I told them I would not be their weapon. Not against you, not against innocent children. I told my Father that if he truly believed in the values he once taught me, he would see this for what it was—madness! A betrayal of everything we were supposed to stand for.” He paused, his chest rising and falling with the effort of holding back his emotions. “They didn’t take it well,” he added bitterly. “They… they accused me of betraying Heaven,” he said, his tone laced with bitterness. “Of siding with you, Wukong, in your defiance. They said I had grown too close to you, too loyal to a demon they deemed unworthy of redemption.”

Wukong shot to his feet, half way to the door before Macaque was snagging his tail and holding him in place. “Wukong,” he growled. 

The King whipped around, his gaze enough to make any god falter- but not the moon. 

Macaque’s grip on Wukong’s tail tightened, his shadowy aura flaring as he stepped closer, his voice a low, commanding growl. Oh, how he wanted to let his Mate go. Let it be known, he would march up there himself, every cruel trick up his sleeve ready to be used, but… and this was crucial here- they were parents now. They couldn’t rush blindly. “Think, Wukong. If you storm the heavens now, what do you think will happen? They’ll blame you for breaking the truce. They’ll use it as justification for everything they’ve done, everything they’re planning. You know how they play this game.”

Wukong’s chest heaved with rage, his claws flexing at his sides. “They sent him to kill our children, Mihou!” he put a hand to his chest, “Our Babies!” his eyes burned, his teeth barred- he didn’t know what he must look like right now. Unrecognizable, even to friends. More savage then the cheeky King the world had come to know. “They wanted their own protector of children to kill children!” he screeched. “They wanted blood to stain his hands- my blood! They wanted him to carry that weight forever—our blood on his hands, our children’s screams in his ears.” Wukong’s voice cracked, the raw anguish cutting through the air like a blade. 

It was only then, peering just over Macaque’s shoulder, that he could see flickering gems of pink that were Nezha’s eyes. The boy was trembling, his small frame shaking with the weight of his guilt and fear. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, tears streaming down his face as he looked up at Wukong. "I didn’t… I wouldn’t have done it," he whispered, his voice breaking. “I would never have done it.” his shoulders heaved, his head crumpling into his hands, sobs wracking his frame. “I pleaded- On my hands and knees-” 

Wukong’s thirst for blood shattered for a moment, his gaze breaking at the sound of his brother’s cries. He was backtracking, dropping to his knees before Nezha’s cot to pull the trembling boy into his arms. Nezha stiffened for a moment, then crumpled against Wukong’s chest, his sobs muffled by the golden fur. Wukong’s claws gently carded through Nezha’s hair, his own anger dissolving into something softer, more protective. “I know,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You were the only good thing up there. The only thing worth it.” 

Macaque’s grip on Wukong loosened, but he remained close, looking over the two with an unreadable gaze. He stepped forward after a few minutes of sniffles and sobs, his shadow stretching long and dark across the room as he knelt beside the cot. His hand was at Nezha’s shoulder, a silent gesture, “It is only when you lose sight of your own self that you become truly lost,” Macaque began, his voice softer now, almost soothing in its low timbre. “But you, Nezha… you held your ground. You didn’t let them warp you into something you’re not. That takes more strength than any of those fools in Heaven could ever understand.” his voice was soft, tender. When Nezha looked into his eyes, he expected cold indifference to a man he barely knew, but instead he found something deeper, something almost paternal. It was then that Nezha felt he understood Wukong’s ramblings about Macaque’s comparison to the moon; calm, distant, yet endlessly protective, casting its light even in the darkest of nights

Nezha’s tear-streaked face betrayed the turmoil within. “B-But I- I didn’t stop them. They’ll come again. They’ll keep trying.” he hiccuped when Macaque pressed their foreheads together. He had seen many of the monkey kind do this, never understanding the gesture. Never realizing the trust and affection it conveyed until now. “Let them come,” Macaque said, his voice a quiet rumble that carried the weight of centuries. “You carried yourself all the way here, just to warn us. That is more than enough, Nezha.” 

Wukong’s arms tightened around Nezha, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “You ain’t going anywhere on your own for- for years, you here me??” They had been through too much, lost too much, to let Heaven or anyone else take what was theirs. He squished his brother to his chest, making the man grunt and mumble. 

“Can’t… Breathe…”

Wukong loosened his grip just slightly, but not enough to let Nezha slip away. “Sorry, sorry,” he muttered, though there was no real apology in his tone. His golden eyes flicked to Macaque, who was still kneeling beside them, his expression unreadable but his presence steady. “But I mean it,” Wukong continued, his voice hardening again. “You’re staying here. With us. No more Heavenly nonsense, no more missions, no more anything they try to throw at you.”

Nezha sniffled, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I-I couldn’t- couldn’t possibly. That would be betraying everything I…” 

The room fell silent, the weight of Nezha’s unfinished words hanging heavy in the air. Wukong’s expression softened, his gaze searching Nezha’s face for the conflict he knew was raging within. “You think staying here, with us, would be a betrayal?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “After what they tried to make you do? After they tried to turn you into their weapon—into something you’re not?” His grip on Nezha tightened again, but this time it was less possessive, more protective. “They betrayed you first,” Wukong said firmly. 

Nezha’s breath hitched. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he leaned back against Wukong, his small frame trembling with exhaustion and the weight of unspoken pain.

Macaque’s voice broke the silence, calm and steady, like the deep waters of an ancient river. “You’ve given them enough, Nezha. Your loyalty, your strength, your very essence. Everyone finds their own path to walk- and often, it isn’t the one your expected for yourself. You needn’t stay here forever,” he lifted the boy’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “But for now, you rest. You heal. You’re among family here, whether you see it that way or not. And family doesn’t betray family. Family protects.” 

Nezha’s eyes brimmed with fresh tears, but he nodded, a small, fragile motion. Wukong’s chest rumbled with a low, approving sound, and he pressed his cheek to the top of Nezha’s head. “That’s right,” he murmured. “We’ve got you.” Nezha’s breathing began to steady, the tension in his shoulders slowly ebbing away. His fingers curled into Wukong’s fur, clutching his shirt slightly. 

There was a faint smell of blossoms- it reminded him of how his Mother used to smell, so long ago. His eyes fluttered at the memory, his breaths growing deeper, his trembling subsiding as he slipped into exhausted slumber.  

Macaque rose to his feet, his shadow retreating as he stepped back, giving them space but never fully leaving. His presence lingered, a silent sentinel in the dimly lit room. Wukong shifted slightly, adjusting his hold on Nezha so the younger one could breathe more easily, though he still kept him anchored close. The flickering light from the candle on the nearby table cast long, dancing shadows across the walls, painting the scene in warm hues of orange and gold.

Quietly he laid the young man down, taking a blanket over his form before joining his mate in his silent contemplation. 

The Moon’s shadowy aura was curling around him like a living thing. “We need a plan,” he said, his tone calm but laced with steel. “And we need to get this information to Azure.” He just knew the man was going to have a field day with this one. Not even 24 hours after the agreement was signed. 

“If the Celestial Realm learns Nezha came here,” Wukong sat up, “It wont be long before they try to clean up loose ends. Or spin this against Nezha,” he peered back at Macaque. “I hate to ask you, but you are able to make the journey up there faster then I can.” 

Macaque’s eye glinted in the dim light, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "I’ll go," he said simply, his voice low and smooth. Then his poked Wukong’s nose, “But don’t hog the babies too much while I’m gonna.” it would be a quick trip to Azure’s, but explaining what occured and making some plan would take who knows how long. 

Wukong scoffed, catching Macaque’s hand playfully, though his expression quickly sobered. "Just hurry back," he said, his voice softer than before. "We’ll keep Nezha safe here, but I don’t like the idea of you being up there alone for long either." 

Macaque smirked, a faint glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Worried about me, King?" he teased, though the warmth in his tone betrayed his own concern. He stepped closer, brushing a hand against Wukong’s cheek before leaning in to press a quick, reassuring kiss to his mouth. 

Wukong’s hand lingered on Macaque’s arm for a moment longer, his expression softening as he watched his mate pull away. “Always,” he muttered, the word barely audible but heavy with meaning. Macaque’s smirk softened into something quieter, more sincere, before he turned and slipped into the shadows, his form dissolving like ink in water.

The room fell silent once more, save for Nezha’s steady breathing and the faint crackle of the candle flame. Wukong sighed, running a hand through his hair as he turned back to the sleeping figure on the couch. He knelt beside him, brushing a strand of hair out of Nezha’s face. 

Sitting up on his knees, still comforted by the fact that Macaque let his shades linger, knowing they watched over their children, he stared out to the waterfall. 

If anyone was awake or present, they would see the thundering fury in the King’s eyes. He had not let himself feel such things since his time with his Master and he pitied anyone who dared to test his patience now. The Celestial Realm had crossed a line, and Wukong wasn’t one to let such offenses slide—not when it involved those he cared about. His fingers twitched at his sides, the faintest glow of golden energy crackling around his fingertips before he forced himself to calm, willing the power to subside. Now wasn’t the time for recklessness, not with Nezha still fragile, his cubs asleep in the next room and Macaque on his way to Azure.

No. He would wait. 

He had grown rather patient during his 500 year sentence below the mountain, and if he learned anything, karma was a rather cruel but inevitable mistress. 

So he would wait and guard. 

Ahhhh! He wanted to snuggle with his babies!!!! 

Wukong snagged Nezha under his arm, careful not to jostle him but unwilling to leave him out of his sight, and yoinked his brother with him back to the cubs for a large snuggle pile. 

Chapter Text

Nezha awoke to the sound of cooing, soft and sweet, like little bells. Then the smell of peaches invading his senses. Finally, the sensation of warmth, like basking in the glow of the sun. He turned ever so slightly into the warmth, the tickling of fur against his cheek.

When his eyes finally managed to flutter open, he found himself not on a mat, or a bed, but in a sort of hand made nest. An arm was around him, tucking him against a firm chest.

Wukong, he realized, though the Monkey King looked somehow softer than Nezha had ever seen him. The lines of worry around his eyes were deep, but his gaze was gentle and fixed intently on the two bundles nestled in his other arm.

Nezha blinked, slow and uncertain, as the memories of the previous day pressed down on him with relentless clarity. He shifted, expecting pain, and found only the ache and stiffness left behind by Macaque’s healing touch. There was a blanket—peach-patterned, laid across them all.

Held, secured, fingers carding through his hair like a parent soothing their child to sleep. In the night hours, it seemed Wukong had moved him to his family’s nest- perhaps to watch over both him and the cubs but-

Nezha’s face burned.

He tried to push himself away, heart thundering, but the arm around him was insistent, a gentle anchor rather than a chain. The Monkey King noticed immediately, shifting his focus from the babies to his little brother. “Hey, easy,” Wukong murmured, voice touched with sleep but kind, “You’re safe. You’re home.”

Home? Nezha’s lips parted, but the word got stuck in his throat. His limbs ached, his heart felt- raw. He wasn’t sure he could move even if he truly wanted to, so he settled his head back against Wukong.

The man didn’t seem to mind at all, returning to stroking his hair.

He looked down at the cubs—at Qi Xiaotian, snuggled against Wukong’s side and dreaming deep, and at little Qi Xiaohua, wriggling in his sleep with his tiny fists balled and ears twitching with dream-static. They looked impossibly small. Impossibly alive.

He choked back the whine of turmoil he felt in his chest as he remembered his “Father’s” request- no, his demand. How could he ever think Nezha could arms such little ones?

Nezha reached out, hesitant, with a trembling hand. The creamy cub’s tail curled loosely around his finger, soft and trusting. The simplicity of it stunned him.

He felt his throat constrict. In the span of a breath, the weight of the previous night’s confession threatened to crush him all over again. These children—these miracles—he had almost been complicit in their destruction, if only by proximity, if only by not saying “no” soon enough. What would he have done, truly, with the Jade Emperor’s command burning like a lash in his ear, the circlet tightening around his throat? Was he anything more than their weapon, even now?

Wukong watched him, openly, and Nezha wanted to vanish into vapor. He wanted, with every particle of his being, not to have to say anything at all. But when Wukong set a hand over his trembling one, still encircled by Xiaohua’s tail, something inside Nezha softened, loosened. Safety was a foreign land, and Wukong was its only native.

“Hey,” Wukong said again, as if saying enough times would make it true, "Nothing that happened up there can change who you are down here."

Nezha's breath hitched. The baby tail furring his forefinger seemed the only thing keeping him in his body. He mustered a precarious smile, the brittle kind that stings like a reopened wound. "I'm not so sure that's true, Brother.”

“It’s true to me,” the other insisted. Nezha’s smile cracked, broke, and he buried his head against Wukong’s shoulder.

Wukong let him, no judgment, only a soft squeeze around the smaller boy’s shoulders to hold him close, "I’ve had plenty of things put on me," Wukong said, chin on Nezha’s hair, "but I never once thought of you as someone that could hurt a kid. Even when you fought me all those times, you never did it maliciously. Never wanted anyone innocent involved. You always made sure the area was clear, and everyone safe before you engaged."

He wiped his nose on the back of his wrist, shame fighting with something else—relief, maybe. Or exhaustion. “Did they-” he licked his lips, shifting his eyes. “Come for me? Has anyone found me?” fear, small and pained, made his eyes tremble.

"No," Wukong said, surprisingly gentle. "Seals are clean, and Mihou’s put up enough shadow wards to give the Celestial Bureau headaches for days. He’s keeping Azure in the loop, and they’ll raise a ruckus in your name if anyone tries to say otherwise. You’re safe here, Little Brother. No one’s going to lay hands on you again.” He set his jaw, voice dropping to something almost too quiet for anyone but kin to hear. “Not while I’m alive."

Nezha nodded once, twice. Safe. He… was he really? He was just burdening them. He burdened all who were saddled with him.

Yet, still, he spoke the words that twisted like daggers in his chest. He thought of his Father, "Did he expect it of me? To fail? Or- Or to succeed?" Both sounded horrible. Both sounded like he’d lose either way and it was never a battle he was intended to win.

Wukong huffed a dry laugh, amusement and pain braided together. "They don't expect either.” Wukong spoke more of the Celestial court as a whole then just Nezha’s Father alone. “They expect us to never try at all. They forget we have hearts, that the world doesn't end at the celestial boundary. But you tried, Nezha." He adjusted the blanket, tucking it under Nezha’s chin with exaggerated care, as if he was just as much his child as the two cubs. Maybe in… in a small way Nezha was. So young when he first met him. Still so young. So quick to worm his way into Wukong’s heart- his first baby, in a way. The first to really make Wukong learn what it meant to be soft, and caring, and grown, "And you made it home. That's what matters."

For a time, Nezha let the weight of that soothe him. He curled inward, folding himself smaller and smaller against the warmth, the words, the unfamiliar tenderness. He’d never really allowed himself to need this—not since he was a very small thing and hope had not yet been pressed out of him by reward and expectation, disappointment and the iron-cold love of a god that called itself his father.

It took longer than he would have believed for the tremors to subside. When they did, he found himself still ringed by the gentle tail, the silk blanket, Wukong’s pale, calloused hand.

He slept a little longer, this time with the softness of fur against his cheek and a lull of monkey-song drifted through his dreams. He awoke to a crowded nest.

Macaque was back, perched on the edge of nest. One of the cubs in his arms, being bounced gently as they fussed. Nezha flushed red, feeling so embarrassed to be caught snuggling against the Monkey King like a frightened cub.

He tried, poorly, to extricate himself from the tangle of arms, fur, and blankets, but Mihou only cocked an eyebrow at him, soothing the chocolate fur cub when hewhined for food and didn’t immediately get it.

"Good morning, Little Lotus," Macaque purred, the nickname landing as a reversal of fates: now Nezha the immortal was being coddled and fussed over by the "enemies" he'd spent so many centuries fighting against- well, barely fighting, but he stood on opposing sides all the same. The irony wasn’t lost on any of them. The man smirked, finding it quite adorable how the two snuggled and Wukong held the boy with such a protective side.

He loved that side of Wukong.

“Awake again, Nezha?” Wukong beamed beside him, holding the creamy furred cup still, who was passed with flushed cheeks and a rounded tummy- practically drunk on milk. Legs and arms dangling, cheeks rounded and the sweetest expression of contentment on his face. “You missed breakfast, but I stole you a bao,” he grinned, holding up a still-steaming bun. “Didn’t want you to fade away.”

Nezha stared at the bun in Wukong’s hand, then at the tangled nest—himself, the King, and the two cubs. The sight of Xiaohua’s belly, so full it seemed ready to burst, made him snort with something almost like disbelief.

He took the bun, nibbling quietly. Then his stomach growled, realizing just how hungry he was, and he wolfed the bun down in three greedy bites, face flushing as Wukong watched with delighted pride.

Macaque raised his brow, “You eat like him, too,” he teased, then shifted the cub on his lap, softly holding tiny bites of peaches out for the baby to gum on. Having his full on milk, it seemed like Xiaotian was still quite hungry.

“Don’t tease him,” Wukong said, though he looked ready to burst with laughter. “It’s a compliment! Strong appetite means strong spirit.” He shot Nezha a sly wink, then gathered the sleeping Xiaohua closer, humming a lullaby under his breath. “Little Xiaotian over there gets it.” the chub of a child couldn’t seem to stop eating.

Nezha sat up, hair messy, mouth full of bun and eyeing another one. He took it, his movements slow and choppy- the drain of the night before still weighing him down. His bandages were fresh and new, he noticed. Macaque must have done it while he was asleep.

After a few tense seconds of baby babbling and food, he quietly looked to the cubs. “…They-” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Look like you both. Perfect mixes.”

Wukong brightened, a contagious smile spreading across his face as he excitedly held up Xiaohua. “Doesn’t he look like Mihou?” he gushed.

Macaque, in return, chuckled and did the same with Xiaotian, “And this little one looks like Wukong~”

Nezha, arms folded around his knees, surveyed the two cubs. It was all so domestic, so… gentle. He knew these two babies would be loved, forever. “Um…” he tilted his head to the side a little. He didn’t want to bring the mood down, but he couldn’t get the Celestial Courts from his head.

Macaque seemed to sense his question before he asked it, cleaning his child’s face, “I spoke with Azure Lion last night.” his eyes lifted, “Told him of the Jade Court’s attempts to initiate a murder and to use you as scapegoat to pull it off.”

Macaque could recall the face Azure made. Their closest ally and friend, Azure barely blinked. He only listened with increasing quiet—like the air before a summer storm—until his knuckles whitened around the rim of his goblet. No outrage, no outburst. Macaque got the unsettling sense even a thousand years of practice as a Heavenly diplomat couldn't sand down the old beast's true nature.

He only said, "We expected they would honor the truce for a season, at least." Then, after a pause, "But I didn't think they'd try the cubs. It will be their ruin."

Nezha blinked, unsure if he heard correctly. "He… believes me?”

“Why would he not?” Wukong nudged him with his elbow. “‘sides, it’s not the most unbelievable thing.” he scowled out the window.

The spread of the news had reached the entire brotherhood by now, Macaque’s shades reaching far and wide to deliver the news.

“Then-” Nezha worried the courts were at the domain’s boarders as they spoke.

“They haven’t shown themselves yet. In fact, they’ve been quiet.” Macaque explained. “Acting like nothing is wrong.”

Nezha’s eyes were wide, “W-Why?” that sounded even stranger. They were never ones to just wait.

“Because they know they failed, Lotus.” Macaque’s voice was soft; he was cradling Xiaotian’s head, letting the baby gnaw on a peach slice wetly. “They gambled you would do it, or it would all go quietly. Now—” He shrugged, a movement like vanishing mist. “-They are trying to find you.” it was clear in how he saw their forces moving. Acting like they were simply on patrol over their own boarders, but it was clear they were searching for something- someone.

“Looking for me?” Nezha’s throat felt dry. He felt like all he could do right now was ask questions.

“Azure hasn’t acted on the information we gave him. None of the Brotherhood has- yet. I believe the Courts think we don’t know.” Macaque waved his hand idly. “So they are trying to play their cards right and find you before this can blow up into something bigger. Give them a chance to find someone new to try their crazy scheme.”

Nezha felt dizzy, confused- “They think I’m still up in the Celestial realm?”

Macaque nodded, his eyes fixed on the struggling cub, chuckling how he was so feisty when it came to his peaches. Just like his Dad, “Exactly. They’ll only escalate if they realize you’re out of their grasp. For now, I can only guess they’re assume you’re biding time, maybe hesitating, maybe working up nerve.” He smiled at Xiaotian, then at Nezha, with the same gentleness: “You’ve been gone less than a day. That’s not long in the stories of Heaven.”

Wukong chuckled, but it came out more as a huff. “They didn’t even think to look here yet. It’s like they thought you would never come to me for help.”

Nezha thought that was odd. They choose him for this task because of his connections to Monkey King in the first place. Did they think- he wouldn’t have the guts to go to the same man they requested he betrayed?

Did they think… Wukong wouldn’t forgive him? Wouldn’t trust him? Would cast him aside? That the Monkey King so beastly, that he would deny the bleeding child at his door?

He shut his eyes, overwhelmed. The answer was yes. They did think that. Maybe he even thought it, too, for one cowardly heartbeat at the crossroads- that he wasn’t deserving of Wukong’s brotherhood. That’s why the relief was so sharp it left him dizzy. The relief, and the shame.

He watched the way Wukong fussed over the babies—over him, even now. How the warmth in his face was not an act, and how Macaque regarded him with the same tolerance and gravity as he did everyone else in his orbit, even when that orbit didn’t make sense. The thought stung somewhere behind his eyes.

“They’re fools,” Nezha mumbled, hunching his shoulders. He tried not to look too long at the twins. He didn’t trust himself not to break. “They have never understood you, Brother.”

Wukong grinned, showing slightly too many teeth. “They never tried to.”

Nezha nodded numbly. He felt the blankets shift, and then Wukong was manhandling (with the utmost gentleness) the baby off his chest and setting the napping Xiaohua between his knees. “Look at this little guy,” Wukong said, doing everything he could to not look at Nezha directly, probably sensing he needed a break. “Look at that peach fuzz. Like a baby chick.” he cooed.

Nezha nodded a little. Then Macaque slid just an inch closer, “Would you like to hold one?” he offered the chocolate furred cub with a smile, considering he was still awake.

Nezha flinched reflexively at the suggestion. For a moment his hands froze, unsure what to do, but Macaque’s gaze was patient, his arms cradling Xiaotian like an offering. Nezha nodded, unable to summon protest, and reached out. The cub stared up at him with wide golden eyes, both trusting and curious, as Macaque gently deposited the bundle into his arms.

Xiaotian was heavy—it surprised him at first, the full, purposeful weight of this tiny being. The cub’s fingers splayed against his own, gripping tight as if they’d always been meant to fit together this way. “He’s bigger than any newborn I’ve ever seen.” seemed more like 6 months old.

“Probably due to being born from an egg rather than a body,” Wukong shrugged.

Nezha nodded mutely, brushing his thumb over the tiny hand. Xiaotian’s gaze remained locked on him, and despite the tightness in his chest, Nezha felt something gentle and unfamiliar unfurling inside—like a lotus bud, maybe. He’d always been good with children, but holding one now was different, especially after… all that. Especially after knowing his own hands could’ve wrought harm instead.

He tucked the cub closer, marveling at the fragile bones, the pulse fluttering in the neck. “He’s so warm,” Nezha said softly, more to himself than anyone.

He found himself rocking, gently, as if he could lull the baby’s small heartbeat into matching his own. Xiaotian burbled, then—unexpectedly—smiled up at him- a gummy smile. Nezha felt something in his sternum split and blossom.

Wukong beamed, pride evident even as he tried to hide it. “See? He knows who saved him.”

At that, Nezha glanced away, cheeks flaming red. “He doesn’t know anything yet,” he muttered, but the words held no bite. He kept his face turned away but made little faces at the child, trying to make him giggle.

Nezha’s effort, and rewarded him with a burble and a tiny, quivering laugh, like the popping of soap bubbles.

Wukong scooted closer, watching the two with open fondness. “He likes you,” he murmured, voice threaded with a kind of gentle awe. “Babies are good at that. They know who to trust.”

“You are his Uncle,” Macaque leaned against his palm.

Nezha made a face, “Being an Uncle sounds weird,” he shakes his head.

Macaque lifted his eyebrow, “Why is that?” he mused.

Nezha shrugged, not sure how to explain. “Uncles are old?” Uncles, to Nezha, were people who swoop into a child’s life once in a blue moon, belch awkwardly, and then disappear again for a few decades. He wasn't sure he had that vibe. But then, maybe that was the point.

Wukong cackled, the sound echoing through the little cave. “I guess you are still young.”

Macaque leaned in closer, curious, “How old are you, exactly?” It was hard to tell with demons after a certain point. They grew fast the first few years of life, matching the ways humans physically aged, but their actual age in demon society was based more on the centuries.

“1,622.” Nezha mumbled. To any human they would look at him like some old and wisen deity. To these two, especially Macaque, who only just learned his age, looked startled at how young he actually was.

“You’re 16??” Macaque blinked wildly.

“Sixteen hundred and twenty-two!” Nezha tried again, mortified. “Not sixteen.” His cheeks colored with outrage, the age-old urge to scorn adult laughter bristling through his small frame.

But Mihou, to his credit, only close his mouth. "Ah, I see.” Still a baby by demon standards. A baby. This was a teenager. A child. the Celestial courts had tried to use a teenager to murder a newborn. The implications of that made Mihou’s fur bristle, but he kept his reaction measured. It made sense now, why Wukong was so against fighting Nezha. So upset they were against him in this war against the Celestial Realm.

Their first attack on the Jade palace was over 500 years ago, where Nezha stood at his Father’s side at the time. Nezha was only 1,100 at the time. 11?

Wukong had met the child when the Boy was probably 700. Even if Wukong and him would now never age beyond the years is 2,300 (23) thanks to the immortal peaches, they were both technically 3,200- 32.

…No wonder Wukong looked at this kid like he was his own. Of course, the concept of demon years to human years were always debated, since a demon was physically full grown by the time they were 20 in human years. So yes, to humans, Nezha was an adult. And many demons who were only 500 or so were starting their own domains, or even starting their own families.

It was a rather confusing system, more based on individual accomplishment than on a neat, linear calendar. It was often best not to think of the details too much- but many older demons regarded the younger ones as babies. In truth, with how much demons fought or were hunted, it was extremely hard for a typical demon to grow to their age anyway.

Still, Macaque found himself regarding Nezha with a softened expression. This was a child.

He was busy making the cub giggle, bobbing the child up and down with an affection that felt as old as time. Macaque leaned back, observing this, and something quiet and secret clicked into place inside him.

They were all just children, really. Children for whom the world had always been a gauntlet, always a test, always some new impossible expectation to clear. He wondered if it ever stopped. If, after enough centuries, a demon or a god could simply be whatever they wished to be.

Nezha saw him looking, and pouted slightly.

“…Is 1,622 considered old or young for a demon?” he asked. Wukong and Macaque exchanged a look over his head, the kind of micro-expression that could contain an encyclopedia.

“It’s considered…” Macaque wrinkled his nose as he thought about it, “Well, seasoned enough not to get scolded for small mischief, but still adorable enough for elders to pinch your cheeks.” He raised his hand at Nezha’s look of horror, “No, I won’t pinch them, relax.”

Wukong, never one to let a good opportunity pass, immediately reached out to snag Nezha’s cheek, “But I will!’ He stretched Nezha’s cheek until the boy yelped and smacked his hand away, red with indignation. Xiaotian giggled at the scuffle; even the baby seemed to enjoy the show, wiggling in Nezha’s lap as if cheering for the underdog.

“Knock it off~!” He hit the man’s arm away, huffing.

“Maybe instead of an Uncle, you are like their big brother~” Wukong said in a sing song voice.

Nezha’s mouth opened, closed. He blinked at the twins, then at Wukong, then back. “Big Brother sounds better,” he admitted quietly. It felt warm.

“Perfect!” Wukong crowed, satisfied. “MK, meet your big brother!” He hoisted the chocolate cub’s arms in the air, as if the baby would remember any of this, bobbing him up and down until Nezha had to stifle a laugh.

There was a contented pause as Xiaotian squirmed happily, clutching Nezha. “…MK?” he finally asked. “ I thought this one was Xiaotian, and that one was Xiaohua?”

“MK is my nickname for Xiaotain,” Wukong said proudly.

“There isn’t an M or K in Xiao-” Nezha was repeated Macaque’s very words from the day before. Same judging look too.

Wukong cut him off with a huff, “It’s not a nickname in that sense. It’s short for something else. For, Monkey Kid!” he flexed his arm.

Xiaotian watched his Father, then copied him.

Macaque turned his head sharply when he made a squeak sound, covering his mouth- ears flushed in adoration. He stifled a laugh. “I can not believe it. He’s mimicking you already.” He propped his chin on his hand and watched, heart melting, as Wukong flexed again, and the little brown cub’s arm curled into the cutest attempt at the same gesture. MK. The name really did suit him, didn’t it?

Nezha made a face, holding “MK” up. “I… I guess?” he shrugged.

“My nickname for him is Moon Drop,” Macaque reached over to tickle MK’s chin, making the cub squeal and giggle.

“What about that one?” Nezha gestured to Xiaohua.

The two parents looked horribly guilty, “We- We weren’t expecting a second baby,” they admit, quickly adding, “We adore and love him! We just weren’t prepared. So we don’t have any nicknames prepared.” they say as the slumbering cub dozed.

“Oh.” Nezha nodded.

“I was thinking maybe… something about the Sun.” Macaque says, brushing his fingers over Xiaohua’s hair. “Xiaotian has dark fur, but he has light. Like the Sun and Moon.” He smiled, “Like- a little Sun Spot.” His ears perked up. “Oooo~” he liked that name.

Xiaohua shifted a little to the noise, opening his eyes.

"Sun Spot." Wukong tried it out loud, then grinned so wide his eyes nearly disappeared behind his cheekbones. He reached for Xiaohua, now awake and bleary with milk, and poked his nose carefully, "That’s you, little Sun Spot! Our own ball of light!"

“…” Xiaohua scrunched his nose, annoyed to be awoken.

Wukong immediately deflated, “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” his voice dropped to a hush whisper. “Don’t be mad baby. Don’t be mad at me.” he pleaded, rocking the cub.

But to Wukong’s visible dismay, the outburst had already roused a set of bubbling tears from the child. First Xiaohua, and then upon hearing the other— MK started to cry too. Nezha froze up, holding out the crying MK like he might burn him.

“Help. Help.” he pleaded quickly. Macaque quickly took the child, bringing MK to his shoulder to bounce him lightly. “Shhh… shhh…”

Wukong’s eyes went feral with panic, watching Macaque for what he did, "Yeah Shh, shh, it's okay—don't cry, Xioahua," he stammered.

But Xiaohua wasn’t going to be lulled that simply. The cub wailed, screwing up his face with a force of will that would have impressed even the Jade Emperor. Wukong lapsed into a familiar pattern: humming, pacing, murmuring nonsense soothing sounds that would have made even the most aggressive demon snooze.

Nezha leaned back and away from the two parents, lips pursed as he let the parents work. He may have been the god of protection, patron to children, but he was not the god of soothing.

Eventually, both cubs quieted, the disaster of dawn resolved with only minimal trauma and the crumpled dignity of two new parents. The sunlight poured through the falls, dappling the cave’s natural stone and pooling soft gold around the family nest. Wukong panted from the exertion.

He had to remind himself this was just day one. That they were learning, but many, that was kind of scary.

He slumped onto the edge of the nest, tail looping around his waist. "They don't come with an instruction manual, do they?" he asked, half to the room and half to the cubs, who blinked back with newborn serenity.

Macaque shook his head with a soft laugh, “No they do not,” he rubbed Xiaotian’s back, letting the little one drool of his shoulder and gnaw at his scarf.

"You'll figure it out," Nezha said softly, almost to himself. He slipped a glance toward the twins, then away again,"You always do."

There was a gentle clatter from the kitchen—a shade, refilling a pot for tea, peeking out at them. Macaque titled his chin in its direction, telling Nezha, “Tea is ready, if you would like some, Lotus.”

Nezha blinked, then pushed himself shakily upright, gathering the blanket in a defensive huddle and waddling out of the nest- feeling he should give the two some privacy. They had been preparing for this for months, he was sure. He felt bad for interrupting their experience as new parents with his presence.

He made his way to the kitchen, surprised by the warmth of the floor under his feet—surely an effect of the volcanic vents running beneath Flower Fruit Mountain/

The shade waiting for him was silent as stone but poured the tea with care, setting down a chipped cup with the familiar clink of porcelain. Nezha wrapped his hands around the cup, blowing lightly over the steam. He took a long draw of the liquid, exhaling.

He felt the heat wash over his skin, soothing the aches and spark-fires left behind by the circlet’s punishment. The shade bowed once, nearly invisible, before retreating into the cracked wall.

After a long moment, Wukong’s voice carried from the bedroom—a little muted, a little sing-song—beseeching the cubs to give their Baba a break and sleep another hour.

A hearty set of loud baby chirps followed right away- far from sleepy.

Nezha smiled and set his cup down, wandering to the mouth of the cave, watching the waterfall catch and break the sunlight. He traced a finger along the old scars at his neck, knuckles clinking against the gold of the circlet. He remembered when this was first placed upon him- how it was insisted it was for his own good.

The old Nezha had trusted his Father when he was told that.

There wasn’t much left of the old Nezha, he thought.

He held his hands together, exhaling. Then, a shadow came over him. He turned, realizing it wasn’t a cloud overtaking the sun that had given him some shade, but a towering figure that had just stepped up to the waterfall.

Nezha did his best to hold a neutral expression as the one and only Demon Bull King appeared before him. He must really be out of it to not hear his thundering steps up the path.

“Boy,” steam came from the man’s nose. The bass of his voice reverberated against the stone; the Demon Bull King’s face was nearly filling the entrance, his horns actually scraping rock as he ducked down. He wore a coat the color of bruises and a breastplate that looked to have been hammered out of a meteor.

Nezha blinked at him. “DBK,” he murmured, somewhere between awe and reflexive dread. Then louder, because manners mattered even after all he’d been through, “It’s… good(??) to see you again.” it had been some years since they last had anything to do with each other. Not since the incident with his Son and the rings…

They often met through the man centuries- sometimes for good reasons, sometimes for bad. They were neither friends nor foes really.

The man was still as intimidating and terrifying- and… Nezha’s eyes locked on the puff of red sticking from the man’s chest.

Strapped in, big eyed, and grumpy faced, a toddler was looking at him.

Nezha bit his lip to not laugh. Don’t laugh at this mountain at a man with the cutest baby carrier around his chest, with the cutest little grumpy baby- “I…I see… Red Son, is with you.” he was failing to sound calm about this.

DBK regarded him for a long second with ember-bright eyes. “He is. His feet get tired from long journeys.” The giant’s deadpan broke in a wry snort. A squeak erupted from the toddler, arms windmilling, and the Bull King deftly cradled the carrier, instantly gentler than Nezha would have believed possible for the cloven tyrant of the Infernal Plains.

Red Son’s glare was volcanic. He peeped once at Nezha, then ducked to gnaw furiously on the carrier’s edge with toddler rage.

Behind him, a second set of footsteps approached—the sweeping rustle of silk and the click of shoes on stone, too measured to be anyone but Lady Iron Fan. She ducked the waterfall with practiced elegance, a sleeve fluttering, her face a perfect mask of courtly elegance as she lingered close by her husband’s side. Her gaze swept the scene: Nezha, battered and bandaged; the tea cup, the shades flitting through the shadows; Red Son in his carrier, gnawing holes and radiating willpower. For half a breath, her eyes softened as she regarded Nezha’s wounds, then, just as quickly, she snagged her son from the carrier.

“Nezha,” she says as she put the child on her hip, putting a snack into his hands. Red Son, now free of his padded prison and with a fistful of sticky rice cake, devoured the treat like a starved animal. The he scowled at the wrapper- then Nezha- Then-!. Lady Iron Fan caught the boy’s hand before he could hurl the trash at Nezha, her grip effortlessly gentle and absolute. Her face seemed impassive but there was a warmth in the way she dusted the crumbs from Red Son’s chin, a tenderness rarely seen outside the sheltered valley of their home. “It’s been a while,”

She had been far closer to Nezha then her own husband, being within the courts herself for so long. She had seen this boy train and grow into he courtyards, always under the strict watch of his Father. The last she had seen him was upon that mountain all those years ago- ripping the Samadhi fire from her own son to ensure his survival.

… She never once realized that Necklace on his neck was a circlet. She had once been offered a few for her son as an alternative option instead of removing the power. The very idea had nauseated her. To think that fool Li Jing would put one to his own flesh and blood.

She found herself holding Nezha’s chin without quite knowing when her hand had moved, tilting his face up to survey the bruising and the pale, delicate pulse under his jaw. Her thumb lingered just under the circlet.

The Lotus Prince froze, feeling small- always small, with her around. She was never unkind to him- more like a strange strict Aunt he avoided causing trouble around.

For a moment Nezha was a child again with all the world’s terrible longing crammed inside his tiny bones. She let go with a final touch, her expression settling into resolve. “It is good to see you alive.” A pause, then: “Mihou is inside?”

He nodded, and Lady Iron Fan swept smoothly past him, a silk rustle and a brief, faint scent of sandalwood trailing behind. She ducked into the nest-room, her silhouette framed for an instant against the soft candlelight.

DBK took up sentry at the cave mouth, arms folded, gaze scanning the horizon with a warlord’s intensity. Nezha remembered, suddenly, how terrifying DBK could be when he wished it; the Bull’s bulk filled even celestial corridors, and his anger could make clouds tremble. It was comforting in a way, to feel that watchfulness now.

He knew not what to stay, but figured it was more awkward to just stand there. So he turned and shuffled back to the kitchen. The rest of the Brotherhood would probably be trickling in soon enough. He worried the Celestial Court would find it odd and realize where he was but- no.

It wasn’t odd for any of them to arrive. The Celestial Court probably wouldn’t look their way until Nezha was found.

After all, two cubs, little Princes of the Mountain, had just been born- it was expected that all their friends and family would come to see. The entire tribe outside were loud with celebration. Despite what had almost occurred, this was a time for partying and joy.

As he suspected, the Brotherhood began to trickle in one by one, all carrying gifts and food.

A party was about to begin.