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As evening fell over Flower Fruit Mountain, the largest banquet hall was packed fit to bursting with demons of all shapes and sizes. The scent of camphor hung heavy in the air, and MK found that he had to fight his way through the crowd just to stand beside Red Son.
“I’ve never seen this many demons in one place!”
Red Son nodded, adjusting their glasses as they shoved away an over-familiar demon and stepped closer to MK to shield him from the throngs.
“It does make sense, given the occasion.”
“The occasion?” MK tilted his head, trying to remember if there had been anything specific on the chicken-scratched invite he’d received in the mail, but nothing in particular came to mind.
"Don't tell me you couldn't read the invitation, you imbecile!" Red Son tore their own invitation from their coat and unfurled the scratched, old parchment with a flourish, squinting at it in a way that suggested they couldn't read it either.
"Can't read it?" MK patted them on the shoulder and ducked the burst of flames that almost caught him between the eyebrows.
"Would you shut it! I can read... Is that meant to be class, or hot?" Red Son hissed, brow furrowing dangerously, as they smoothed the paper in a futile attempt to decipher the character.
"I think it might be water."
"Those characters aren't even remotely similar!"
"You should see Macaque's handwriting.” MK sniffed. “He keeps mixing up ‘like’ and ‘country’.”
"That is insane-"
Their bickering was cut short when the entire room went dark, and they looked up in time to see the curtain at the end of the hall opening slowly, pulled open by the armored little ones who had aged enough to begin their studies in cultivation. They looked sharp in the golds and red armor and silks of Flower Fruit Mountain, and as they marched in their neat rows, MK knew that Monkey King couldn't be far behind. The banners that read 'Great Sage Equal to Heaven' said as much, and the presence of armor always indicated the proximity of the king.
Around the pair, the lesser demons fell to their knees and kowtowed almost as a single unit, leaving MK and Red Son on their feet.
One of the little ones- a gibbon- he thought- stepped up to the stage, and recited their lines in halting demon speech. Although they were still a newcomer to the mysteries of enlightenment, they nonetheless had a handle on their words, and among the scores who could not even dream of speaking the complex speech, that alone was cause for respect.
"Presenting, Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, The Victorious Fighting Buddha, The Monkey King, Sun Wukong!" They scurried off to join their brethren, and, as Monkey King took the stage, MK couldn't help but wonder who had talked him into this affair. It was clear as day on his sweaty face that he had no love for this crowd, and it looked for a moment that he might simply faint away entirely. He wore an unfamiliar set of armor- a ceremonial set, no doubt, since the complex mail looked distinctly unfit for battle.
The crier spoke again from the sidelines, voice cracking into something high and reedy.
"And also presenting the most noble consort-"
Consort? MK took a second to rack his brain for anyone that Monkey King might have any interest in in such a way. The only people he really hung out with were MK and the gang, maybe DBK and Princess Iron Fan on a good day, and- Oh. Oh. Oh, that made sense, now that MK thought about it.
"Telltale Great Sage, Macaque Demon King, the All-Hearing Six-Eared Macaque!"
Beside MK, he could hear Red Son muttering frantically about something, and he leaned closer to his friend, making sure to lean his entire weight on them so they could hold him.
"What's up?"
"We were both wrong about that character," They hissed through gritted teeth. "This isn't a friendly gathering. It's a show of strength. A vow renewal, of sorts. Something that powerful demons do to cement their bond with their chosen mate."
MK thought back to how Macaque and Monkey King normally interacted, and made a face. "Those two? Really?" He whispered.
“Yes, you idiot!” Red Son wrapped a hand around him, seemingly on instinct. “Father did something similar for Mother when she was pregnant with me. These things are violent, bloody affairs, and we would be wise to get out of here before your father reduces the crowd to a fine red paste!”
“It won’t be-” MK’s voice died in his throat as Monkey King turned to the backstage and extended one hand towards the shadow, where it was accepted, unflinchingly, by Macaque. As Macaque stepped out, MK could hear uneasy whispers roll like a wave through the crowd. He honestly couldn’t blame them. The warrior looked- well, the kindest descriptor would be 'well loved' while a less generous onlooker might use the term 'Old.' Swirls of white ran through his fur, and the pallid, historic hanfu he wore made him look freshly out of the twelfth century.
Beside MK, Red Son gasped again.
"Now that's a statement..."
"What? What?"
Red Son looked to him like he was a total ignoramus, which, in MK's defense, he often could be, then adjusted their glasses and jabbed a finger at the stage.
“Those robes are from a celestial maiden. I'd estimate from a serving girl originally, but to present one’s consort in something stolen from heaven?! It's absolutely a boast of Wukong’s power, and... are those hair sticks of celestial jade? Oh, that is bold."
Red Son sounded impressed, and MK wondered what DBK had presented PIF as, seeing as the woman was a former celestial maiden herself. It must’ve been a true sight to behold.
Macaque stepped out of the shadows completely, and the murmurs crescendoed as the old warrior stepped forth into the spotlight with almost hesitant, mincing steps, as though balanced on the tip of a pin.
"Are they ok?" He hissed to Red Son. “They’re walking weird.”
Red Son nodded, eyes fixed on the stage with something akin to envy in their eyes.
“Macaque fine- if I had to guess, I’d say they’re wearing platform shoes to show off their balance.” Red Son glanced down at him and must've seen the ignorance written there because they sighed and twisted his head back to look at the stage.
"A decent alternative to the lotus shoes of old, all the swaying gait, none of the mutilation. It's very modern of them, though, I must say. I would’ve expected them to go the extra mile for this occasion and simply shapeshift.”
“Modern?” MK arched a brow, and Red Son sighed before elaborating.
“...Qing dynasty.”
“Ahhh… that’s not modern, but ok.” MK looked up at the stage again and caught a glimpse of the impossibly thin platforms. "Would you ever wear shoes like that for something like this?" MK asked, and received a light cuff to the back of the head for his troubles.
"I'm not looking to be courted for at least a few more centuries! But if you absolutely must know," They stuck their nose in the air, and MK noticed that their hair was threatening to flicker back to life. "I… would wear them."
"Cool. I'd like to see you wear them someday. You'd look so dignified!"
This earned a frankly strangled noise, and Red Son dug one hand into his hair and wrenched his face up to make eye contact. "You are going to kill me, you know that? You are going to kill me, and my parents will mourn because of your big mouth."
"Ha. Drama queen."
"Shut up!" They elbowed him in the side, and MK fought to keep from busting out laughing at the motion, focusing instead on the couple on stage as they moved, dreamlike, around one another.
"They look so perfect together." Red Son griped. "Perfect, powerful-"
"Are you jealous? Because I can tell you right now that as soon as those two are behind closed doors, there's a non-zero chance that one will hit the other over the head with a frying pan." Such an incident was, unfortunately, a semi-regular occurrence, and MK shuddered to think of how many pots he’d seen in their trash. Red Son crossed their arms and scowled.
"Perhaps I am just a little jealous, but can you blame me? They're so beautiful."
"So are you," MK said, nudging their friend in the ribs as gently as he could. This earned him a genuine spark, and they grabbed him in a headlock, covering his mouth with one calloused hand.
"Not to use the Dragon girl's language, because you know I typically hate profanity, but shut your whore mouth."
They sounded almost squeaky, and MK one hundred percent would've licked their hand to see how they reacted, but, alas, they had predicted his course of action, and shifted their grip so their palms were free from the danger zone.
"Anyone ever tell you you got mmmmppph hmmms?" He still tried to compliment them, if only for the objectively hilarious reaction, but they shook him when he tried, so he stopped reluctantly.
"Shut up and watch. This is the first vow renewal I've ever seen, and if I miss it because you can’t shut your mouth for five minutes, then I will destroy you.”
On the stage, Macaque and Monkey King continued their strange, floating march around the stage, and MK could tell they'd practiced the steps. Another, who hadn't been put through the hell of training sets, might have chalked their grace up to centuries of living together, but MK knew better than that. He knew the steps. The way Macaque's brow creased as they circled Monkey King. This was a set as much as it was a show, and gods only knew what would happen if either missed a step.
Once the first set of their renewal was done, Monkey King pulled away from Macaque, who reached after him with one trembling hand before withdrawing, covering their mouth with the pale sleeve of their hanfu.
"Welcome, one and all, to my small event."
Stage fright, MK's ass. Monkey King's voice seemed to boom over the crowd, boosted, no doubt, by some form of magic, and as Monkey King paced in a tight circle around Macaque, he delivered a hesitant, chaste kiss to Macaque's cheek before addressing the crowd again.
"As many of you may have gathered by the invitations-" There was a ripple of confusion from the crowd, who undoubtedly had had no luck deciphering the invitations, but Monkey King ignored the complaints and kept on trucking. "-My lovely mate and I have…reconciled."
There were a few weak cheers, and a few lesser demons got up and started hurrying for the door. Red Son stared after them, and their brow furrowed as they looked between the runners and the stage.
"They're not gonna make it."
MK almost asked what they meant, but Monkey King’s voice boomed out, somehow even louder in the newly quiet hall.
"As such, this event is an opportunity not just for us to show our love, but also to conduct some... let's call it pest control."
There were a few murmurs of concern amongst the lesser demons, and Red Son blanched, turning and tackling MK down to the floor, covering his body with their own.
"Red Son, what-!?" MK fought against their hold for a moment, but their hand tangled in his hair and pulled him tight against their chest
"Stay down, MK. I know you're invulnerable, but trust me, you don't want to see this- please, MK, just stay down."
Beyond the shell of Red Son’s arms, MK heard Macaque speak up, sounding almost sibilant as they spoke.
"You see, my dear attendees, I am not called all-hearing for nothing, and lately, I've heard some rather concerning rumors. It turns out that some of you think the Great Sage is too weak to maintain control. Obviously, we can't have that, and so, to spice up our renewal dances, we've decided to invite an even mix of those loyal to our cause and those who would think my mate weak."
True pandemonium broke out at that statement, and MK closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Red Son. They smelled like woodsmoke, and he could hear their heart pounding against his cheek. MK pressed his face deeper against Red Son's chest, not wanting to see any part of what was about to happen. He'd seen what Macaque and Monkey King could do when pushed too far. He’d trained with them, each side by side, for long enough to envision the whirls of sleek auburn carnage and burnished black death ripping through the crowd like scissors through tissue.
Red Son shifted, and he felt their hands press over his ears, keeping every noise from reaching his ears until all he could hear was the blood rushing through their body, and the muffled clash of iron meeting flesh. He clung to them, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as he tried not to think of all the deaths going on just beyond those strong arms.
What seemed like eternity passed before Red Son moved, and MK clung to them, not wanting to see any part of what lay beyond the shelter of their arms. But as their hands left these ears, he cracked open one eye to look out over the finished carnage. Blood stained the walls, yes, and most certainly the floor, but no one seemed like they were dead. Just scared. Just afraid of the power of the now-matched kings of Flower Fruit Mountain. Which was, MK came to realize, the point of the entire affair. It had been a show of power. Control. A twisted sort of mercy that he prayed he’d never see any sense in.
Monkey King returned to the stage, still holding Macaque's hand in his as they ascended the stairs together.
"Now, I'm sure that some of you are wondering why we did not kill you." He shook off the staff, sending a wave of blood and hemolymph splashing over the heads of the wailing crowd.
"The simple answer is that, as all of you should know, I've gotten rather comfortable in my retirement. So I'm not exactly at the prime of my form.” He laughed, showing gleaming teeth, and MK clung even tighter to Red Son. If this was retirement, if this was past his prime, then what on earth had been the height of his power? Why did he even admit to such weakness in front of the crowd? At Monkey King’s side, Macaque tightened their hair sticks and sighed, as though the entire affair had somehow bored them.
"Ah, my king speaks the truth. I myself am far from peak form. But, and this is crucial to remember, my little ones. We can always come back."
Macaque's hanfu was saturated in blood, and MK wondered if any of the so-called traitors around them would die of their wounds. For sure, there were broken bones and a few ruptured organs, but, as best he could gather with his gold vision, no wound would prove mortal.
Monkey King moved again, pressing a kiss to the back of Macaque's hand.
"After all, we must focus on caring for our cub. So we'd understandably prefer to avoid any bloodshed beyond tonight."
For a moment, MK could only wonder who their ‘Cub’ was, before it hit him.
It was him.
It was his fault that the floor now lay stained and bloodied. His fault, his fault, always, impossibly always his fault.
Red Son held him close, and he fought the urge to gag at the thought of all the pain that had been wrought that night. How long would recovery take? How long would they associate him with this newfound status of Flower Fruit Mountain's golden son, when he'd just managed to scrape free the title of Harbinger? He could already feel his monkey form itching just beneath the skin, all but begging to come out and play, to rip and bite and tear to shreds anything which could hurt him.
He choked it back. No sense in losing control over something which already happened.
Macaque's eyes fell on him, and he ducked his head, but the old warrior didn't draw any attention to him; instead, they clapped their hands and brushed a few chunks of viscera from their hanfu as they took their place at the head of the stage.
"Anyways. Seeing as we are both more benevolent than we were in our youth, we will offer those disloyal few a choice." They took a moment to build the crowd's suspense, then smiled. "Bend the knee and vow never to raise arms against Flower Fruit Mountain, or die."
The crowd- dead silent save for a whimper here and there, condensed into a sobbing, rallying cry of allegiance, and MK saw Macaque's smile even from halfway across the hall.
By the time the little monkeys had managed to clean the blood from the walls, ceiling, and floor, there were no holdouts, and the demons who had been so deeply, badly hurt by the combined forces of Macaque and Monkey King had begun to crowd around MK, offering congratulations for maintaining his composure. His head swam dizzyingly, but Red Son kept him upright.
"Why are they congratulating me? They should hate me, I got them hurt!" He had taken to pressing his face against Red Son's shirt to avoid the well-wishers, and they had obliged him in the motion, keeping him sheltered from the eager crowd.
"They want to get into your good graces," Red Son swayed him back and forth, one arm wrapped around his shoulders. "If anyone gets close enough, then there's unmatched power to be gained through you. You know that, right?" Their hands were gentle as they petted through his fur, and MK allowed himself to close his eyes for just a moment more.
"If anyone courts you, they would gain access to the forces of Flower Fruit Mountain. The power of Monkey King and the tactical genius of Macaque would be at their disposal. With that, why, any turf war would be as good as won!”
"Wait..." MK's brow furrowed as he thought through those words, then his head shot up so fast that he hit Red Son in the jaw by accident. "Courting?!"
"Ow..." Red Son glowered at him, and he ducked his head until Red Son resumed the gentle, petting motions and even gentler explanation.
"Some of them view you as a prize. Something that would be better courted in order to win the favor of your parents. Which would be a stupid thing to do, in my humble opinion." Their fingers caught on a knot in his fur, and he tried to yank away, but they pulled him back as they detangled it. "Your parents are far inferior to mine, after all."
The invitation to bicker was blatant, but MK took it gratefully, listening to their heart as he tried to ignore the eyes of onlookers fixing squarely upon him.
"Is this one of those little kid 'my dad could beat up your dad' arguments?" He mumbled.
"Perhaps." They admitted, and MK couldn't help but smile against their chest.
"Well, my dad definitely beat up your dad, so there." He heard them laugh lightly and looked up. "It's true!"
"I know. I was trying to snap you out of your funk, my prince."
The world seemed to lurch on its axis at that, and MK shook his head.
"Just MK."
"If you insist." Red Son swayed him back and forth once more, and, as MK closed his eyes again, he could almost pretend that the night hadn't taken a hard left turn out of his comfort zone.
"So, what does courting even entail?"
Red Son stopped moving, and for a single, horrible moment, he thought they might leave entirely, but they resumed the movement as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Well... It typically starts with a fight." Their fingers swirled over the whorls in his fur, and he hummed as he listened. "A fight where one partner pursues, and tries to show their strength, either by defeating stronger enemies, or by fighting their potential spouse."
"Beating the shit out of each other as a first date? How romantic." MK teased and yelped when they flicked his forehead disapprovingly.
"Hush and listen, noodle-brain."
He obliged them.
"It then escalates to fighting foes side by side. It's said sometimes that the stronger the foe, the closer the bond."
"Hmmm..." Unbidden, MK thought back to the Lady Bone Demon, to Spider Queen, and even the recent business with Heaven. "What next?"
Red Son hesitated, cheeks slowly flushing a fiery red to match their hair.
"Then... Then comes the gift-giving phase. Rare jewels, the heads of their lover's enemies if the suitor is too poor for jewels... but the most common courting gift is decoration for the hair." They looked rather flustered at having to explain this concept, and MK considered, for a moment, teasing them on the issue, but then he caught sight of the hair tie currently nested in Red Son's hair. It appeared at first far too cheap for an event such as this, but, as he looked at the thing, his mouth went dry as he remembered that he himself had gifted it to them.
"Hey, Red Son?"
"Yes?"
"I, uh, have a question, and please wait until I'm done asking to explode."
They squinted at him, and he gulped before reaching up and nudging the hair tie.
"Are we courting?" He managed, and Red Son's cheeks somehow went an even darker hue of red, their hair threatening to spark into an inferno.
"Do you want to court me, or be courted by me?"
"Uhhhh...." MK floundered for a long moment before finding the right words to say. "I dunno. I just asked because I wasn't sure if you thought we were, like, official or not." He sank his fingers into their soft hair, and they chased the touch, eyes closing in something which could only truly be called bliss. "I did fight you, though."
"Multiple times, yes." They murmured.
"And we fought together against LBD and Spider Queen."
"Indeed."
"And I gave you this hair tie!"
"Are you going to make a point, or are you aiming to continue spitballing the obvious?"
He smacked them lightly for that remark and rolled his eyes before continuing.
"I... I mean, we're already kind of courting, so why not give it a shot? Would you court me?"
They looked displeased at that, and MK's heart sank as he tried to puzzle out what he might've said wrong. Was it too much, too fast? Was the conflict of their fathers too much baggage to handle?
"What's that face for?"
Red Son sighed, hiked up the sleeves of their hanfu, and gestured to the still-hovering flock of would-be suitors.
"Another step to courtship is fighting off any other suitors, idiot. I'm going to be fighting for the next three hours.
Oh.
"You don't have to-"
"I absolutely have to."
He couldn't help but feel a bit pleased at the thought, but tried not to let it show on his face. After all, it wasn't every day that someone offered to fight for him.