A/N: Before you all hunt me down with an pitchfork-wielding angry mob for being so late in updating anything, I will confess that the last month and a half has been quite busy for me. Between several birthday celebrations (mine included), helping my parents with getting my grandmother settled into her new apartment, finishing up an enormous literary project involving rewriting an entire book from scratch, and trying to keep my grades as high as possible (final exams included) while trying to find a spot in my schedule that allows me to let loose the veritable armada of plot bunnies that have decided they have squatters' rights to my Mind Palace, I've been buried under a veritable mountainload of work. And I'm not talking just the Lonely Mountain, either.
The only reprieve I've gotten has been film-watching. Thor 2: The Dark World was quite good, and Loki trolling the universe about his death made me very happy, as did wondering if U.N.I.T. or Torchwood would be called in to deal with the random ice beast from Jotunheim that was left rampaging around London's docks. Frozen...a decently good movie, although the written language reminded me of Tolkien's beautiful Middle-Earth text, the storyline held several plotholes, and Elsa reminded me rather painfully of Loki. The Hobbit 2: The Desolation of Smaug was suitably fantastic, I watched it twice and became mesmerized by the Necromancer's Black Speech and the incredibly dangerous enigma that is Smaug the Tyrannical dragon...although the molten gold was a bit silly.
Therefore, while I am sorry that I've been away from giving any new material, I do have my reasons.
In thanks for your patience, I've selected a special plot bunny to be set free here: if anyone here knows the lovely assortment of Avengers fanart work, you will likely be familiar with the pairing of Stony, of Steve/Tony (yes, the good, strong, Captain American-as-apple-pie and the Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist...gods, that's a mouthful...). While I'm content to let ships be ships, and have witnessed many a shipping war break out over whose OTP is "the best", I have gotten a special request to pursue this plot bunny from a good friend of mine, who is a dearly devoted shipper of Stony, and who also is a devoted fan of the "Rise of the Tangled Guardians" concept. She has graciously volunteered, along with a fellow BBC Sherlock fan and friend, to be the beta and overseer of this madcap idea. If it wasn't for her, this little tale wouldn't be put up for your viewing pleasure.
The idea in question?
For those of you who have seen the lovely movie Tangled, you would understand that it's the classic tale of Rapunzel, with a bit more modern twist, a spunky, sweet heroine with both innocence and fire, and a man who isn't Prince Charming material, but nonetheless is still rather likeable, even considerate at times, despite the fact that at times his pride will make both the audience and our leading lady alike dearly covet giving him a good slap in the face with the common sense (and the pain that often giftwraps it) bestowed upon mortal men (or morons) with the mighty frying pan. We have our standard cute small animal friend, some nice magical elements, and of course, the adventure that leads to a happy ending.
This...this takes that idea, grabs it by the hand, and runs with it as if to escape the police. This, dear readers, is Tangled...if it was set according to the Marvel Avengers/Iron Man universe. Please note that due to this strange combination of universes, not everything will be exactly the same, though it's still mostly like the original story.
To put it plainly, Tony is WAY overdue for a proper haircut, J.A.R.V.I.S is a pint-sized protective pet robot, Steve's possibly the worst thief in the entire world, Fury runs the royal guard, and we get a frying pan named Pepper.
And that's just the beginning.
I had hoped to cast Steve in the role of Rapunzel, given that there are several benefits (Coulson could be Maximus, given Maximus' fondness for Rapunzel in the film, Steve shares Rapunzel's talent with drawing and painting, and they both have the correct hair colour, and Tony happens to look (and sometimes act) like Flynn Ryder). However, due to my Stony-shipping friend's preference for Tony being Rapunzel, I have to work with that casting, and thus work with the benefits given from that...which will not be easy. But it's her (rather belated) Christmas present, so it's set in stone.
I know this is madness to write. I just hope you enjoy it.
A note for you to consider in this: given that this is to be heavily based off the Tangled story, Tony's mother and father are going to be loving parents like we see in the Tangled film, not the unmentioned mother and the neglectful father we learn about in the Iron Man series. Also, as I honestly don't think that Tony would agree to be named "Rapunzel" (particularly for a permanent name), instead he will simply be named "Antonette" (the feminine counterpart to his original name, which also means "priceless", a suitable name given his royal status), although we all know he won't accept it well either. But that will give another excuse for Tony to want to rebel and be his own person and be free.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's Iron Man series, Captain America series, or Avengers, Disney's Tangled, Doctor Who's The Empty Child, or any of the other characters, places, powers/technology, etc. involved, or any of the cultural references, plot devices, songs, quotes, and/or bands mentioned. This story is done for fun and entertainment purposes only.
Long, long ago, in the land of Midgard, the kingdom of New York was ruled by the Stark family. The kingdom, which was rich, bustling, and prosperous from continued trade of workers, inventions, and technological wonders with the Kingdom of Asgard, had only one wish: the royal family yearned for a child, someone who could be trusted to care for and protect the kingdom and rule it well when they passed, someone whom to love and be loved by in turn, who would be the blessing of life needed to ensure that their homeland was tied together.
When the announcement was made to the public that the king and queen had been blessed with a baby, the people rejoiced. Banners were erected, streamers and balloons filled the streets, and the people danced and sang in ecstasy. Parties lasted for days on end, men and women alike took bets on whether the child would take after the king or the queen, and the air hummed with activity.
But tragedy struck, and the Queen fell dangerously ill, the unfortunate malady putting both herself and her baby boy at risk. Desperate for help, King Howard sent for his best healers, but nothing worked. But the King would not give up.
In a last attempt to save his family, the King sent out search parties of the royal S.H.I.E.L.D guard across the land, hoping they would find a cure for the illness that plagued the queen. The people of Midgard did their best to aid in the attempt, offering food and supplies for the journey, searching their towns for possible cures for the illness, and sending prayers of hope for the Queen to live.
But time was running out. The Queen was getting sicker with every day that passed.
Finally, at the edge of their hope, one man in particular, a rather quiet, reserved medical student named Bruce Banner, was able to offer a vital bit of hope to the struggling search party.
There's an ambulance ship that crash-landed a few miles out from the edge of the kingdom a few years ago. I couldn't open it myself, but it looks mostly intact, so there should be supplies inside that might help.
Revitalized with hope, S.H.I.E.L.D. took off across the landscape, following the directions given by Banner, and found there, at the edge of the forest surrounding the kingdom, a huge, ancient-looking capsule, composed entirely of iron, warped and overgrown with vines and moss, dotted here and there with golden blooms that grew in the cracks.
But it was the contents that drew the attention of the guards. Deep in the hull of the behemoth of iron capsule, there was a thin glass container, capped with metal at both ends, containing a glittering vortex full of what, at first glance, appeared to be glowing, neon blue fireflies. The caption on the side of the tube read Nanogenes: Use as needed for healing injuries, illnesses, or other physical ailments. To use Nanogenes, open container by patient and release into surrounding airspace. Nanogenes will impart healing properties to patient immediately upon capsule opening.
Jubilated by their find, S.H.I.E.L.D took hold of the tube and carried it back in great haste to their kingdom. The kingdom was subdued, candles set in the windows in prayer, and the castle gleamed dully under the light of the watery full moon as the search party, buoyant with their victory, rode at full speed up the streets shouting urgently for the castle gates to be opened. The precious container of healing Nanogenes was clutched securely in the arms of the Captain of the Guard himself, Nick Fury.
The King was informed of the miraculous cure, and the container was brought immediately to the ailing Queen, who lay, pale and shivering, in her bed.
The Nanogenes glittered in a neon haze as they flowed and pulsed like a mother's heartbeat around the Queen's room, settling gently upon the soft, welcoming features of the shivering woman, as if fireflies had come to rest upon the pallid skin, before finally seeming to sink in and vanish in a soft dusting of blue light, fading gently away.
The reaction was glorious. Within moments, colour began returning to the pale cheeks, and breathing became calmer, easier, skin warming and gaining a healthful rosy hue as pretty eyes fluttered open, bright with reviving life. The King embraced his wife, relief in his gaze. The Nanogene container, now empty and cooled, was taken away to be added to the treasures of the Royal Vaults, value cemented by the lives that had been saved.
The news spread through the castle like wildfire, and by morning every turret and spire in the castle had a joyful, overenthusiastic servant dangling out the window with a freshly-cleaned trumpet, blowing exuberant noise into the air in the happy signal that the cure was a success, and the royal family still remained whole.
Months later, the kingdom rejoiced once more, this time for the birth of their new prince, a child christened Anthony, and to commemorate the event, the proud parents sent a lantern into the sky, shining brightly with neon-blue light, to let their pretty bauble of luminescence float into the heavens and befriend the stars. The kingdom's subjects eagerly embraced the act, adding their own shining little lanterns with candles and paper, and the display of support lit up the sky like tiny diamonds in daylight, and as the night approached, gleamed like handfuls of stars thrown into the horizon.
The tiny prince was taken to immediately by the rest of the palace, lovingly referred to by the working inhabitants as "Prince Tony, the little blue star", the soft blue shimmer of little Tony's hair at night being regarded as a good omen by his parents, a testament to the healing properties of the Nanogenes. The blue shine became a standard colour of good luck in the kingdom, added to the geometric design of the royal family's crest and flags. The kingdom prospered, content and peaceful.
But alas, the peace was not to be. The kingdom, and her royal family, were naïve in their self-assurance of safety.
Late one cold, moonlit night, as the kingdom lay sleeping, a tall, imposing figure stole into the little prince's bedchamber, gazing with hungry eyes at the small, innocent form of the child in the cradle, and the secret power shining within him. Dangling over the cradle was a series of gently glowing blue mobile ornaments, glittering with streams of softly recited binary code for the queen's favorite lullaby for her baby.
For you see, the Nanogenes that had saved the Queen and little prince had not vanished...not entirely. The healing technology, designed originally for external healing, had, instead become infused with both mother and child, imbibing the then-unborn young prince with the shining, strengthening powers of the very best of Nanogene technology.
Nanogene technology was expensive, powerful, and very uncommon, capable of incredible feats ranging from healing the body of aches and pains, to mending broken bones, to replenishing blood and cells, and, just as dangerously, to attacking the physical body like an invading army of parasitic infection on a microscopic scale. It could heal, it could harm, and in doing so, struck the balance between life and death, youth and aging.
The sheer amount of Nanogene possibilities existing in the form of this one, tiny child...
My ship may have crashed, and those idiotic S.H.I.E.L.D. Guards may have stolen the technology that is rightfully mine, but I will not be denied this. I will have those Nanogenes, one way or another...
Obadiah Stane may be conniving, calculating, and two-faced, but the man was nothing, if not efficient. Centuries of utilizing the Nanogenes for his own benefit had left him too dependent upon the glorious technology to leave its power in the hands of the royal family.
Reaching into his pockets, he withdrew a pair of sharp scissors, and leaned forwards to snip a lock of the messy, ethereal blue-tinged, chocolate tresses from the infant's head. Given the Nanogenes' propensity to multiply for maximum healing efficiency, it was natural to assume that only a small amount of hair would be needed for his use, and thus there would be little to no evidence of his nighttime visit.
But upon cutting off the bit of hair, Stane discovered, to his horror, that the hair lost its ethereal blue glow, falling limp and turning completely dark brown, seemingly pure soot-black, in his thick fingers as the strands were severed from young Tony's little head.
No! How can I harness the power of the Nanogenes again, if the technology itself is bound to the body of a mewling baby?
Staring pensively at the sleeping child, a mad idea began to form.
The scissors were stashed back in his pockets, the blanket in the cradle was tucked securely around the sleeping baby boy, and the little prince was swaddled and stolen away in a basket, Stane escaping from the palace grounds as quickly as he could.
A patrolling S.H.I.E.L.D. Guard chanced to notice the rapidly retreating figure tearing across the grounds, and as the moon rose high into the fabric of the night sky, S.H.I.E.L.D. gave chase the fleeing man, sounding the alarm across the kingdom as horses and Guards took off in frantic pursuit of their stolen prince.
But the thick expanse of forest surrounding the kingdom was difficult to navigate even in daylight. Now, in the darkness, the moonlight obscured by overhanging tree branches, the Guards found their quarry lost.
Retreating deep into the forests and back to the borders of the kingdom, Obadiah Stane returned to his hideaway, terribly victorious. Carefully, after securing the young prince in the Moses basket dangling from his arm, the thief climbed up the walls of the tall metal tower.
As he swung one leg over the windowsill at the topmost floor, he looked down at the slumbering form of the stolen royal heir, peacefully dreaming, unaware of the monumental change in his short life.
A long finger lightly tucked a lock of dark hair behind the young child's left ear. "Antonette," he murmured thoughtfully. "You will be Antonette..."
After all, he thought, if he doesn't know any better, whose to say a father is wrong to want to shelter his "little girl" from the cruelties of the world?
Years slowly passed, seasons changing in a constant cycle of death and rebirth. The kingdom prospered as always, but sadness lingered overhead like storm clouds.
The king and queen, as did the rest of the kingdom, mourned the loss of the heart of their people. Help in searching for the lost heir had been called upon all over, but luck had run dry, despite the admirable attempts of everyone to try and find him.
Far, far away, hidden in the quiet seclusion of the tower he'd known all his life, the lost prince lived, wondering each and every year, why his father would refuse to let him leave.
"Why can't I ever go outside?"
The answer, the child would learn, would always be variations of the same thing: "The world is a dangerous place, full of horrible, selfish people. You must stay here, where you can be safe. I do not want you hurt, and if you leave, the world will hurt you. Do you understand, my dear?"
"Yes, Father."
But unfortunately for Stane, his machinations could not hide his stolen charge from everything. The king and queen had not given up hope yet.
Each year, lanterns, all glowing with the soft blue light so fondly remembered of their missing prince, were sent out into the sky, drifting across the heavens in a plea for their little lost boy to come home.
Tony wasn't sure why the beautiful glowing sky lights would always appear, only once a year, on the night of his birthday. He didn't know why the symbol, a shimmering circle surrounding a triangle held in place by sharp, almost artistic lines, felt like a strangely nagging question upon each sighting.
But he did know one thing.
Someday, I'm going to get out of here and find out where those lights are coming from.
