Draumr

His hands were shaking, energy buzzing and crackling along the skin of his fingers, desperately trying to lash out at the crowd of faceless people he didn’t even recognize. Yet it couldn’t. Couldn’t leave, couldn’t lash out, couldn’t protect. It felt like he had dipped his hands into a thick, heavy sludge, forming an outer layer which stopped the power from doing anything but twitch and writhe in anger.

He was starved, not having eaten a proper meal in what felt like years. His legs weak underneath him. Someone, a man dressed in a strange golden armour, pulled at the chain connected to the collar around his neck. He felt humiliated as the faceless crowd shunned him, hissing insults and hatred like he was the cause of all the world’s problems. Like he was the Merchant of Death…

Confusion ripped at his brain, fighting against fear for dominance. This made no sense. Where was he? The very air tasted different than what he was used to, clearer with a faint aroma of metal and forest. Gold coated the walls of the giant hall he was being pulled through. Tony looked down at the shackles binding his wrists and ankles together, giving him barely enough room to walk at a decent pace. They were plain iron, if a bit darker than he was used to. Yet they felt heavier than they had the right to, dragging his arms and pulling his legs. The armoured stranger gave another yank on the chain, and Tony stumbled, almost losing his balance.

Someone actually threw a rock, which landed painfully hard against his temple. He turned to glare at whoever did it, but in the sea of hateful faces, it was impossible to know.

After what felt like a painful eternity, the guard finally stopped pulling his chain. Tony had resorted to looking down at his hands. It was better than the room full of anger. Why were they so angry with him? He didn’t even know any of them!

A heavy hand slammed down on his shoulder, a foot kicking him just behind the knee, forcing him down to the ground. People cheered. Tony bit back a pained gasp. It was humiliating beyond words.

Something heavy slammed into the ground, the sound echoing through the great hall they were in. Instantly, the cheering and shouting disappeared, replaced by blissful silence. Finally, Tony looked up. An old, yet strong looking man, was seated upon a golden throne right in front of him. Tony felt hatred pool in his stomach, despite never even having seen him before. He couldn’t explain it, but every fibre of his being burnt with anger and betrayal when he met the man’s one eye.

Next to him was a woman, which gave off an entirely different feeling. Where the old man seemed cold and detached, she seemed warm and sad. She made Tony feel a sudden need to rush over and bury his face into the crook of her neck and just cry away his troubles. Like she could make the world brighter with just a smile.

His eyes widened when he moved to the next figure, standing protectively next to the graceful woman. There, dressed in his usual armour and target-red cape, stood none other than Thor. The god looked at him with a mixture of disappointment and sorrow. He instantly made to stand, to run over to the little stream of familiarity, but a strong hand at the back of his neck kept him on his knees. He tried to throw the man off, but it was useless. To his credit, he put up a good enough fight to get to Thor that another armoured man was sent in to help keep him in check. Desperately, he tried to shout Thor’s name, but his lips refused to part. He tried harder, but only a muffled slur which only resembled the word escaped his throat. To his horror, Thor turned his gaze away with a pained expression. Tony froze then, left staring hopelessly at his companion, his only way out of this. Why wasn’t Thor helping him? They were supposed to be a team, a unit. Weren’t they?

A sudden spark of anger fuelled a fire within him, hate seeping into his bones until he was left glaring daggers at his friend. Thor wasn’t doing anything. He was probably even enjoying seeing him here in chains, at the mercy of these strangers. The bastard probably got a kick out of it, and he would laugh with his comrades later about the horrified expression on Tony’s face. His teeth grinded against each other. He would show Thor. Show him you don’t abandon Tony Stark and get away with it. If Thor was going to prove himself just another Obadiah, he would make sure the big oaf would come to meet the same fate.

Tony woke with a startle, the dream slipping from his mind faster than he could grasp it. His hands shook violently (that seemed to happen a lot recently), but he didn’t know why. His body was coated in a thick layer of sweat, making his hair stick to his skull uncomfortably. Light flooded in from the windows, bathing his room in a cold brightness. A groan escaped his lips.

“Good morning, Sir. It is good to see you awake at last.” JARVIS’ voice was like a wash of comfort. He couldn’t remember his dream, but the feeling of fear and anger remained. Tony coughed to clear his throat, which seemed to wake DUM-E from sleep mode. Within seconds, the AI-based machine was in front of him, a white handkerchief in its claw. Tony let out a small laugh, taking the handkerchief and using it to dry his forehead.

“What’s the time, Jar?” He asked finally, handing the white cloth back to DUM-E.

“A quarter past three in the afternoon, sir. You have slept through the majority of the day.” Tony’s eyes widened. Had he really slept for that long? When exactly did he go to bed last night? It couldn’t have been any later than one AM, at least. Contrary to popular belief, Tony was very much a morning person. He couldn’t stand wasting away his life on sleeping when there were more productive things he could do.

“May I ask how you are feeling, sir?” JARVIS’ smooth voice cut through the room.

“Dirty as all hell and practically starved. Get the showers running, will ya, buddy?” Tony replied. He did feel dirty. His skin covered in sweat, sticking to any surface he came in contact with. Disgusting didn’t even cover it. A loud complaint from his stomach only made the fact that he hadn’t eaten for three days all the clearer.

The water was blissfully warm, just the right temperature (Thanks JARVIS). For a while he just stood there, letting the spray wash away the sweat and muck from his skin while his mind wandered to his lab. As he stretched for the soap though, he did a double take. His wrists were covered in angry, red marks. Like something had singed his skin. Tony stared at them, trying to make sense of how they got here. Had he clawed at his wrists in his sleep? No… that wasn’t right. The pattern was too specific to be from his nails. If anything, it looked like someone had put smouldering hot cuffs on him but…

“JARVIS. Give me a run-down of the night, please.” He said, ignoring the slight shake in his voice as he stared down at the red skin. It didn’t hurt, which was surprising, because it looked painful as all hell.

“You went to bed at half past twelve, sir. You fell asleep much quicker than usual as well, and came down with a fever during the night.”

“Fever?” Tony echoed.

“Indeed, sir. Your core temperature rose to 39 degrees Celsius. However, it only lasted for an hour and a half, and didn’t seem dangerous enough to call for Dr. Banner.” Tony stared at his wrists, allowing JARVIS’ words to sink it. He was used to fevers and being sick. During the palladium poisoning, his immune system took a bad hit, making him more susceptible to sickness than he used to be. But that didn’t explain the marks on his wrists.

A wave of something cold rushed across his skin in a soothing manner, calming his fears, if only a little bit. A small comfort at least. Energy crackled at his fingertips before retreating to where it came from. Tony took no notice of it, instead reaching for the soap and finishing his shower.

“This stays between us, alright J? If anyone asks, I had a welding accident in the lab, okay?” He commanded as he dried himself off with a towel, careful around the burnt area. Even though he couldn’t feel it, didn’t mean he would risk ripping his skin and make the damage worse.

“Should we not inform the other Avengers about your current predicament, sir? Certainly, Captain Rogers will see that something is… off.” JARVIS replied hesitantly. Tony rolled his eyes. Of course. He would have to face their captain sooner or later.

“Welding accident, JARVIS. I didn’t create you to second-guess me.”

“Of course, sir.”

After he’d dried himself off, Tony went in search for some burn cream for the wounds. It was harder to find than he suspected, and in the end, he had to ask JARVIS for help. After his AI told him it was in the top shelf to his right, (and who the hell put it there of all places?!) he was finally ready to go get some breakfast… lunch... whatever it counted as.

“JARVIS, give me the locations of all the Avengers, please” He asked as he got changed. Something with long sleeves. Dammit, why did he only own T-shirts?

“Dr.Banner and Captain Rogers are in the common area. Mr. Barton is in the gym and Ms. Romanoff is currently out on a mission for SHIELD.” Tony hesitated for a second, before:

“… and Thor?”

“Thor is, as far as I know, still on Asgard, sir.” A relieved sigh escaped his lips. He couldn’t quite put words to it, but the thought of having to face their thunder god sent a flash of fire through his body, hot and angry. It was gone before he could put much thought to it.

After a failed attempt at finding something edible in his private fridge, he made his way to the common area. Steve always kept the fridge full of food, saying it was a luxury they didn’t have when he grew up. As he exited the elevator, he prayed to all deities he knew about that there would be coffee in the machine. It was a poor replacement, but Pepper had refused him any alcohol ever since the alien incident. Not that he couldn’t find creative ways to smuggle it in, because he could and he had. But that also meant he would have to get past JARVIS. The traitor had, of course, sided with Pepper on that one.

His prayers were answered when he rounded the corner, only to come face to face with Steve who was in the process of pouring himself a cup of steaming hot coffee.

“Tony!” The soldier said, eyeing him closely as if he expected Tony to turn to dust at any moment. Tony resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He gave Steve a slight nod in acknowledgement, heading straight for the coffee machine. However, their captain wouldn’t give up that easily. When Tony passed him, he took tail and followed closely, looming over the inventor.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, demand hidden behind the concern in his voice. Tony scoffed.

“Fine.” Was his simple answer. He really wasn’t interested in making small talk with anyone. If there was anything that could bring down his morning more than his surprise in the shower, it was-

“What happened to your wrists?” This time, he did roll his eyes. Of fucking course Steve would be the first to ask. Always the team leader. Always sticking his nose into Tony’s business, hanging over his shoulder and just waiting for Tony to make a mistake he can point out. The inventor gritted his teeth as a spark of deep cold anger ignited in his chest. He really didn’t want to deal with Cap’s bullshit right now. He had work to do… probably.

“Wielding accident.” He said, reaching for a mug and pouring himself a steaming cup. The captain looked at him doubtfully.

“When?”

“Just now” He couldn’t very well say they were older. Steve had seen him yesterday with nothing but his Iron Maiden T-shirt, and he clearly hadn’t been burnt then. The soldier’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Clearly, he was doubting Tony’s story.

“Those don’t look like they’re from a welding accident, Tony.” He reached out to grab his wrist, but Tony yanked it away before he could, spilling some of the coffee on his hand. Tony cursed loudly, quickly setting his cup down on the counter.

“God fucking dammit!” He cursed again, bringing the hand under the sink to cool it. It was a relief to feel the cold water wash over his hand. Soon, the pain had dulled down to almost nothing, dissolving like it had never happened.

“Jesus, Tony! I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Steve sounded almost frantic.

“I’m fine, Steve.” Tony hissed, his words coming out sharper than he intended. He felt a slight pang of guilt at the pained look in Steve’s eyes. The soldier stared at him apologetically, shoulders hanging low. He looked like he was about to say something, but just at that moment, Bruce entered the kitchen area. The scientist stopped short when he saw the scene in front of him. Tony still holding his hand under the cold water and Steve looking discouraged at the damage he’d caused his teammate.

“Ehm... hey.” He said awkwardly.

“Brucie! Just the man I wanted to see.” Tony said, instantly shifting his attention away from Steve and his sorrowful, yet determined eyes. The man really had to make up his mind on what he wanted from him. Answers or forgiveness, Tony refused to give him both. At least out loud.

“I’ve been working on some new arrowheads for Barton, and I could really use your expertise in chemistry. I don’t want to accidentally make something more lethal than knock-out gas… again.” He grinned at Bruce while drying off his hand with a kitchen towel. The burn fresh burn was all but gone, but he took no notice of it.

“What happened to your wrists?” Bruce asked, wiping the smile off Tony’s face. His eyes darkened slightly, something coiling in his chest.

“I had a welding accident in the lab this morning.” If his smile looked forced, no one said anything. But the worried looked shared between the captain and the doctor didn’t go unnoticed either. Tony felt the sudden need to escape, to get away and hide in his lab. His thoughts drifted to the bottle of the ten-year-old laphroaig he kept hidden in his closet. This morning was already turning into more than what he wanted to deal with. First, he faints on the roof, and if that isn’t embarrassing enough on its own, now everyone are suddenly worried about him? Steve looked at him like he was about to have a chest burster pop out from his body.

“They look really bad, Tony.” Bruce said, biting his lip as he eyed the burns on Tony’s wrists. Yeah, Tony thought. Ignore the one Steve made.

“It’s nothing, really. Doesn’t even hurt that much.” Tony said, casually hiding his wrists behind his back. He had always been a man to bask in the attention of others, but that was when he was surrounded by a shield of hot women and cameras were flashing wildly as reporters shouted questions about his amazing new inventions. This however, was like being exposed on a surgery table. The way his friends kept giving him looks of pity and worry. Like they thought of him like a fragile flower. He was Iron Man, dammit!

“I aahh… I told Bruce about what happened last night.” Steve said, scratching the back of his head. Tony’s eyes widened for a millisecond before he shook his shock. Of course he had told Bruce, it was only natural to let the doctor know. Next to Steve, Bruce nodded carefully.

“Right.” Was all Tony said, turning his attention back to the cup of coffee on the counter, still hot. He picked it up, letting the warm liquid flow down his throat and warm his insides.

“We were wondering if maybe you would come with me to the lab so I can run a few tests, make sure you don’t have brain damage or any other medical problems.” Bruce said carefully. Tony wanted to make some sarcastic remark about the shrapnel in his chest being a big medical problem, that he had been able to outrun it so far and that he was fine. But he had agreed to see Bruce yesterday, and more so he had told JARVIS he would allow the doctor to give him a check-up.

“Yeah, sure. I can pop by later once I’m done with those arrowheads. I could still use your help, ya know.” He promised. His friends didn’t look as satisfied with his answer as he had hoped. It was Steve who spoke:

“We were really hoping you would come down now.”

Tony shook his head.

“I’ll be down when I finish. Don’t worry about it.” Tony countered, finishing the last bit of his coffee before refilling the cup. Even though he had slept for much more than he was used to (much much more), the familiar, bitter taste was reassuring.

“Tony, come on. You fell unconscious on the roof after spending hours outside last night. We just want to make sure you’re okay.” Steve said, his voice stronger this time. A hint of that annoying commanding tone Tony hated so much. It reminded him too much of his father when he was young. ‘Go to your room now, Anthony’ ‘Get out of my lab, Anthony’ ‘Do what I tell you, Anthony’. He couldn’t stand that tone. Anger bubbled up in the pool of his stomach. White hot and heavy in his guts.

“I told you, I was just tired. I exhausted myself. It happens. I’m fine.” He spoke the words through gritted teeth, eyes darkening until they looked almost black. The glare he sent the Captain would send lesser men cowering, would make lawyer shake in their trousers. But the captain seemed to only reflect his anger back at him, his own eyes narrowing. Apparently, the damage he’d caused Tony’s hand was completely forgotten in the challenge.

“You’re not fine, Tony. You haven’t been fine since the invasion! You lock yourself in your lab and refuse to let anyone close to you. God dammit, Tony, can’t you see we’re-”

“Worried?!” Tony finished with a snap. His anger was bubbling up, coursing through his veins. Energy sizzled and cracked like whips under his skin, begging to be let out. He could feel it burn in his every cell, agonizing and freeing at the same time. It felt good to let some of his anger out, to take some of his pain out on others. Steve would never understand. Would never even get close to understanding the endless void that haunted Tony in his dreams. Tony wasn’t stupid, genius, actually. He knew that whenever Steve looked at him, he expected to see his friend, Tony’s sorry excuse of a father; Howard. He could see the disappointment in the soldier’s eyes when Tony did something un-Howard-like. He could hear the unsaid ‘Howard wouldn’t have done that’ or ‘Howard would have done that differently’.

“You’re not worried about me, Rogers. You’re worried I will fuck shit up for your team. You’re worried about the next battle, because that’s what you do. I’m not a soldier, so stop treating me like one.” Tony felt his chest coil again, power buzzing in his cells. Something unknown rose up within him, something familiar yet strange at the same time. The lights above them flickered, almost in rhythm with his anger.

Then:

“Sir, I recommend calming down. Your heart rate has increased fundamentally. Need I remind you of the shrapnel in your chest?” It was one of JARVIS’ poor attempts at nervous humour, something the AI undoubtedly had picked up from him Pepper. Still, the familiar, British voice was enough to calm his admittedly speeding heart. His anger subsided, if only a bit, though he still gave their Captain an impressive glare.

“Thank you for stating the obvious, J.” His voice was still sharp, but his trusty AI would take the ‘thank you’ for what it was.

“You are very welcome, sir. If I may, it would perhaps be in your better interest to meet Dr. Banner in the lab. The bots’ worry is only increasing.” Tony rolled his eyes, hiding his smirk behind his cup. It was no doubt a poor attempt at manipulating him, sly as JARVIS was. The AI no doubt knew that Tony would see right through his words, but he also knew Tony would agree with him. If it was one person (besides Pepper, of course) who could make Tony do something he reluctantly agreed to, it was JARVIS. His nerves still burned with unspent rage, but his heart had slowed. The tight feeling around his chest had loosened as he calmed down. Had he not been Tony Stark, he might have felt silly for his little outburst.

“Alright, you traitor. Let Bruce know I’ll be down as soon as I have something to eat.” He said, giving Steve one last glance before opting to do the childish thing and ignore Steve’s very existence for the next few hours. Steve looked around confused at Tony’s words, not having noticed how Bruce slipped out of the common area when things had begun heating up between the inventor and soldier.

Tony opened the fridge and picked out the first thing his eyes landed on; an apple. He wondered who would put an apple in the fridge as he left the kitchen, chewing the fruit as loudly and annoyingly as humanly possible just to get a last jab at Steve. What can he say? He’s a man with a grudge.

When he rounded the corner, he heard Steve let out a frustrated sigh.

“How do you do it, Jarvis?” The solder asked, sounding both angry and distressed at the same time.

“I am afraid that is a family secret, Captain Rogers.”

Tony smirked.