Hello Again, My Honeys.
I apologize for my silence these last few weeks, I have been some trouble getting back into my writing so I started off this piece to counterbalance myself. I've always wanted to write a more emotionally complex take on Iron Man 1 and why not play with the concept of daemons from His Dark Materials to have a more physical representation of a character slowly spiraling in self destruction?
Well, this story isn't a true cross over with HDM, so please pardon my butchering of the fandom on that side, I'd just like to include daemons in the MCU universe. It puts an interesting twist on superheroes doesn't it?
Anyways, this story is marked Explicit for a reason, sex, possibly drugs, alcohol, Tony being Tony and graphic violence. So please keep that in mind when reading.
I claim no ownership of the image of RDJ or any of the characters and idea of daemons. They belong to their original creators and owners.
Other than that, please enjoy my Honeys. :)
Prologue: Covenant of Silence
Shrouded in a sphere of dust and disparaged hope, scorched red sand and unforgiving death stretched far beyond the human eye could see. Cast in a reflection of the molten sun and faithless heavens, there was not a single shadow of relief to soothe the shattered souls crawling forth and trying to walk again. They were but unwilling slaves to fire, grit, flame and new gore-baptized iron.
Thirty-eight-year-old Tony Stark was sitting, forsaken and desolate, beneath the sweltering Afghan sun. Enshrined in the metal ruins and burnt ash of his escape, there was but a single sign of life clutched protectively to the centre of his chest. The tiny liondog dæmon (1*) was unnaturally still in the circle of his arms, not a single shudder or pained wheeze splintering the desert air around them.
"Meri," He cried helplessly. "Merihem, please. Open your eyes! Please!" His soul was broken and weak, her sight long since bleached white by the harsh days spent inside pitch-black darkness before being violently thrust into the light. Her master's rocking movements were horribly brittle and self-soothing, the restless hitch and sway of a wrecked man as fragmented sobs nearly drowned out the sound of her voice.
Ͼ Stand up, Tony Stark. Ͽ She implored breathlessly. Ͼ Stand up and move. You cannot stay here, they'll come looking for us. Ͽ
Even through the horrific sight of blood and bone and a visibly beating heart, the ruins of her chest had become a reflection of the devastating injury her master suffered at the hands of terrorists. Neither of them faltered at the gruesome sight, Merihem was unwaveringly strong just like her Tony. Even if their twisted world was destined to forever taste of iron, blood, despair and bitterly poisoned reality.
They may have been prisoner to a bleak overture of silt and dust, but they survived their captivity. And as a tiny supernova hailed for her effervescent arrogance, kingly pride, self-appointed eminence, genius intelligence and mischievous aggression; the unique Pekingese was the perfect if not resented depiction of Tony Stark's most private inner-self. An echo that was often mocked and criticized by those bold enough to challenge the last Stark for his power.
She was a haunting fawn and black colour; her thick mane, adorable flat nose, pink tongue, floor-length fur and regal paws never once detracted from the protective lionheart hidden deep within the now noticeable bone and gore of her ribcage. And at a minimal height of eight-inches and twelve pounds in total, she was a far cry from the family's previously imposing patriarchal lion or graceful matriarchal panther.
Let it not be mistaken however, that Merihem was not in possession of an even more vicious and aggressive temperament than any other predator they came across. She protected Tony with everything she had, even taking the pain and newest injury carved into his psyche upon herself and wearing it with pride.
Alas if there was one thing she couldn't shield him from, it was the distress of their current situation. She was his soul; the engineer knew her just as intimately as she knew him. Which was why the idiotic man decided to risk shattering his greatest asset — his genius mind— to protect her from the malevolent cruelty of their captors.
There was a taboo in this world that was never crossed: daring to touch, harm or threaten another man's soul. It was the worst violation imaginable, an act even viler than taking someone against their will. The first and only time one of their abductors turned a knife on the tiny liondog and yanked her away from him, Tony had crumpled and secretly enacted an ancient, if not forbidden, decree.
High-profile kidnap victims were often taught from a young age how to conceal their dæmons from sight for small periods of time, even if it came with a pain similar to prolonged and long-distance separation. It also came with the warning of inflicting detrimental scars on the foundation of one's psyche the longer the entrapment lasted.
Human minds were not meant to carry weight of their souls.
Sadly, compassionate overachiever that her beloved Master was, little Meri had been concealed for however long it took to keep her out of terrorist hands. Sometimes they were forced to endure the unimaginable pain for six-to-eight solid hours, regardless of her wailing cries to be let out and soothe Tony's straining mind and spiralling consciousness.
In the end, they had both been too proud to give in.
Now that they were finally free, it was easy to see the King of Stark Empire was both dangerously unstable and deeply vulnerable. Never mind the despaired anguish and shivering fear that assaulted their collective mind. All comfort the dæmon could offer was to lick away the blood and tears trickling down her Master's cheeks, silently urging him to move forward and never look back.
They couldn't stay here, she reiterated. There would be time enough to grieve and reacquaint their bond later, when they were safe and not in the middle of the desert with no viable means of survival and physically injured.
Ͼ Stand up, Tony. Ͽ She urged aloud. Ͼ There's no way JARVIS isn't monitoring the desert with the Seraphim satellite every hour of every day. Pepper's waiting for us. She has to be. Ͽ Mentioning that name opened up a whole new can of worms. There was no guarantee, after all, that Miss Potts and Amaimon survived the assault on their military convoy. She had been riding in the Humvee directly behind them with Colonel Rhodes. It was the sound of her terrified scream that—.
The piercing lance of pain that assaulted Tony's soul at the horrifying memory, left the tiny liondog howling in anguish as razor paws scrabbled frantically against the ruined flesh around a glowing Arc Reactor. It almost too much to think, to see, to hear…to breathe—.
Ͼ Tony! To-NY! Please! STOP! Ͽ She wailed inside his head, the billionaire carefully curling himself around the shivering dæmon as he watched round gold eyes blink up at him sorrowfully the moment he stumbled into the aimless distance. In that moment, he was determined to leave behind the ruined remains of the Mark I. There was no way he was giving their captors the satisfaction of finding their corpses buried beneath the arid desert sand.
"Pepper, JARVIS and Rhodey will find us." He echoed Meri's conviction. There was no time to dissect the self-effusive nature of the lie, they could only stay quiet and move forward.
Protecting himself and his soul against the harsher elements with what little materials he had, uneven footsteps trekked a steady path through an ocean of swirling dust. The billionaire was careful to keep his dæmon clutched close to his chest, not having the will or means to cause the tiny liondog any more harm than she already endured.
An infinite stretch of seconds, minutes and hours only seemed to strengthen the scorching rays of the sun beating down on their backs. Red-hot aridity and deadly thirst was but the first combatant against three months of embittered fatigue, restless anxiety and stumbling feet covering miles and miles of resonating silence.
Tony thought he was slowly but surely entering the delusional part of his death, the distinctive cry of a bald eagle accompanying the rotating blades of a military helicopter as dark mocha eyes followed the suspicious shadow of his liberation. The sight of Rhodey's familiar dæmon soaring low across the desert sand however, instinctively folded the captive's numb legs beneath him.
He had finally reached the end of his rope, Merihem long since having gone silent as spots of black invaded the periphery of his vision.
"P-Pepper?" He choked violently on the name. The brittle and broken rasp of his voice, unceremoniously stolen by the howl of the wind as a familiar, but not expected, face lead the charge of officers towards him. Tony pulled his soul closer to his chest, shielding her from the world in a desperate motion as a piercing howl shattered the scorching dessert heat.
"No! I—." The one who had been wishing to see, to know had survived, wasn't here! It was—.
Ͼ Tony. Breathe. Ͽ He couldn't. Lungs, heart, soul… they simply didn't function anymore. Tony didn't want to lose the last of his sanity if this was a mere hallucination, it would be a bitter end.
"How was the 'Funvee'?" The sound of Rhodey's voice was so close and so real that the engineer was left reeling momentarily, stiffening in his friends relieved embrace as a wheeze of broken laughter grated his lungs. If the Colonel noticed the protective action he took in hiding his dæmon and shielding her from any accidental touch, even in friendly company, he didn't dare say anything. Merely pulling the thirty-eight-year-old closer to him so he could press their foreheads together in companionable silence.
"Next time, you ride with me, okay?" Yeah, Tony wasn't going to argue with that. He didn't think he had strength to spare, only the relief that Rhodey was alive. There was a bitter delusion that if Rhodey survived, Pepper had too.
She would be alive and waiting at the Malibu mansion, regardless of him knowing the quality of his weapons and the fact that they never failed.
. . .
The world startled back in fragmented awareness with a hollow shout, a brutal shiver of fear echoing the desperate bark of a restless dæmon as silent paws paced up and down the hospital bed by his feet. The genius billionaire was clutching desperately at the messy spikes of his hair, the acrid taste of ash and dry heat completely overwhelming him from within as he struggled to separate the sensation of heaving breaths from cruel hands determined to drown him in a tub of dirty water.
"Meri?" He reached into the midnight darkness, listening intently to the painful screech of a racing heart monitor as frantic fingers clawed at the medical equipment binding him to bed. "Pep? Where's Pepper? Is she—."
Ͼ Alive, Tony. She's alive. She's in Malibu. Ͽ The Pekinese soothed quietly, deep gold irises blinking up at him with effervescent awareness as she trotted forward to lick a series of consoling kisses across trembling fingertips. It didn't seem to appease her Master's manic fear one bit, a hitched jolt violently pushing him from too soft sheets as a trail of glistening rivulets trailed sanguine hurt down panic-clenched knuckles.
The I.V had been ripped from the back of his hand in blind terror, the flashing images of a nightmare and the sound of her voice still crying his name as he wilfully averted eyes from the grit of too little sleep and far too much anguish. Blind footsteps were stumbling out the small hospital room in search of the base's communications room, regardless of two guards startling by the door at the supposedly unconscious and injured occupant's abrupt appearance.
He didn't have the concentration to turn back at their frantic questions or engage in another confrontation, merely pushing forward into the complex hallways as a deep growl of warning and the slow click of nails on tile floor stopped the airmen from reaching out to him. Merihem's warning snarl was vibrating violently against icy concrete walls, Tony unable to describe the relief he felt at the small dæmon still aware enough to intimidate any man despite her small size and fluffy appearance.
Sometimes she was even more effective than his deceased father's lion, he mused. Her protective nature bristling with barely concealed rage as she dared anyone to try and approach her injured Master without her express permission.
Tony's body language was deliberately closed off, her pinpoint aggression and glowing red eyes making it impossible for others to penetrate their single-track mind or neurotic stumble through stark military hospital walls. No one was going to stop them until they found the communications room, dark Türk Kahvesi irises unseeing of anything beyond the need to contact Pepper and hear for himself she was alive.
If there was one thing the genius was sure he wouldn't survive, it was finding out he was the one responsible for her death. Pepper was one of the few people in the world who really mattered to him. The possibility that he may have been the cause of her hurt was one of the most painful things he had been attempting to, but ultimately failed to, deal with during all those months of captivity.
Miss Potts wasn't even supposed to accompany him on that trip. Tony just hadn't liked the idea that she had plans that day. He could distinctly remember being an absolute ass until she agreed to come with, even after he threatened to drop the weapons presentation altogether. It didn't matter that the company had desperately needed to host a proper demonstration of their propriety repulser technology.
Tony Stark simply got what Tony Stark wanted.
If there was one thing he was all too aware of, it was that Miss Potts would never allow her boss' self-destructive tendencies to cause permanent harm to Stark Industries. It was a manipulative tactic he often employed to get what he wanted from her, and she turned around to use on him just as shamelessly. They had been playing this intricate game of give and take for more than a decade, even making the vibrant clash of their personalities deliberately goaded.
This time Tony promised himself he would never again take such blatant advantage, not when he was stumbling amongst the fractured remains of his legacy and seeing, for the first time, the sheer destruction he had nonchalantly sown upon the earth.
Nothing seemed to matter more than making sure Rhodey's spoke the truth of her survival and halting the production of all Stark weapons effective immediately. Tony wouldn't allow his life's work to be used against the innocent ever again, not after he had seen the devastation reaped by his careless profits and excessively distracted lifestyle.
"Meri? Server room?" He queried blindly, the aching throb of a deep burn on his shoulder and a frantically beating heart making it near impossible to think of anything beyond placing once foot in front of the other. The world was splintered chaos around him, airconditioned cold biting through a thin layer of blue scrubs as icy cold tiles froze beneath bare feet.
Ͼ To your left, second door. Ͽ Came the cautious reply, a reopened cut on his left ankle and calf speckling the floor with tiny carmine droplets as trembling fingers violently wrenched open the door to the partially occupied tech room. A sporadic array of flickering lights was crafting a complex server tower to his right, the humming technology and whisper-sweet ozone scent finally draining the ball of tension settled between slumped shoulders.
"Mr Stark? You're not supposed to be in here, it's—!" Tony ignored the young soldier with a nonchalant wave of his hand, his sole attention captured by the out of date but still working server terminal in the periphery of his vision. There was a scrabble of clumsy paws, a cat's yowl and Merihem's deep growl of warning echoing against the stucco walls. A satellite phone was not far the genius' fingertips, his mind humming with new purpose as he snatched up the receiver and dialled out a complex string of numbers.
"Sir—."
"No. I need to make a call. Please leave." Even though the phrase was falsely polite, the growl of his voice and bristling dæmon only allowed for the briefest of hesitations before Meri's flashing eyes sent the young man scurrying for the door. He most likely went in search of a superior to deal with the situation. Not that Tony cared, he had more than enough time to bypass the company's mainframe and reach out to JARVIS in the next ten seconds.
The weight of the phone in his hand was metaphorically heavy, a familiar codex flowing from scrabbling digits to screen as he called up the first and most important contact to Pepper. It took three rings for the smooth dial tone to transition into a generic computer-generated voice.
"Stark Secure Servers, how may I direct your call?" Rubbing at his forehead at J's ridiculous and deliberate mechanical voice, dark eyes flew back to the shifting monitor as he sent a secure stream of code in tandem to the sound of his voice. It would help speed up his identification.
"Get me Pep, J. I need to speak to her." There was a momentary hesitation on the other end of the line, an almost impossibly long nanosecond that the AI had never before employed when executing an order for his creator.
"I'm afraid, Sir. Miss Potts is—."
"No." Tony interrupted vehemently. "I don't want to hear it, JARVIS." The sheer desperation in his voice and J's automatic denial to his request, brought forth a flood of his worst fears. "Please, please just let me speak to her. I want to know if she's alive." His legs were struggling to keep him upright, every unanswered ring causing his heart to beat an even more frantic tattoo against the Arc Reactor casing.
For the first time in twenty-six years, Tony didn't know what he would do if his call was never answered. If this was his AI just humouring his order because he had refused to listen to the truth, he didn't think he'd survive the next thirty seconds. Merihem was an equally whimpering mess, walking in anxious circles around his feet as her head dipped forward under the unmated wave of a newly groomed mane.
If he could just—.
"Tony?" The sound of his name was like a lightning bolt, Pepper's cautious: "Is that you?" completely drowned out by the roar of blood in his ears. A hunched spine was sliding precariously down the server tower until he was seated on the cold tile floor, his wavering will no longer able to support the weight of his body as a long breath of relief tapered off into a hiccupped sob.
"P-Pep?" Her name was both his salvation and future condemnation, the back of his head banging painfully against the edge of a metal desk as he wound a protective arm around his sternum. A small ball of fluff was clambering desperately into the small bit of space available on his lap, weary legs drawing closer to his chest as he instinctively curled in on himself. Small was good, small meant he could reduce his injuries and create a comforting shield against the world.
"You're alive." He finally whispered, a brittle and ugly chuckle spilling from pale lips seconds later as he fought desperately to listen to the stream of concerned queries answering his unusual declaration.
"Are you alright, Tony? What's wrong? Rhodey said that they had you under sedation to assess your injuries only five hours ago. You couldn't have slept that little! You should be resting! Not calling me up in the middle of a meeting and media conference—."
"Mmhmmm." He hummed noncommittally, rubbing childishly at his eyes as they lidded with heavy fatigue. He was burying his nose in Merihem's soft fur, a soft tongue licking his eyebrows playfully as a soft but contented snuffle expressed her momentary happiness.
"I'm coming home, Pep." He reiterated just a deliriously, his final declaration for the day. "Tell JARVIS to activate the Penny Drop Protocol effective immediately, you know the password."
"Isn't that the—."
"Yeah." His breathing was slowly starting to settle, bringing with it a dizzying haze as he struggled to keep himself awake. "Just tell him to get it done, please."
"I'll be home tomorrow."
"Not quite, Tony. You have a debrief with the CIA—."
"Nope. I'm coming home." He said.
"Are you asking or telling me?" There was a flutter of amusement running through Miss Potts' words now, an indication she was well aware he was avoiding the debrief and asking for her to arrange safe passage home because he didn't want to stay in this godforsaken place a moment longer.
"Both." He refuted diplomatically. "And Pepper?"
"Yes, Mr Stark?"
"I'm glad you are alive." The call ended with a busy tone, a calloused thumb hovering over the termination button before he let it slip from his fingers to the floor. Rhodey would come find him in a bit, Tony was sure. Offering him just a moment of freedom to press a contented kiss into Meri's soft fur and close his eyes.
"Just a little," He promised himself. "Just a little."
1* - Dæmon – From His Dark Materials (for those who have not read the series or seen The Golden Compass) is a physical representation of one's soul outside the body in the form of an animal. [Brief explanation]
Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it :) . If I may ask for a small review from my Honey to show if you enjoyed it, please let me know.
I specifically chose a strange Daemon for Tony Stark to have, it makes writing him much more interesting.
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