He's kneeling, but not for long. It flows through the floor and curls around his fingers, feeling as huge as everything else about this place. Huge, bright, glaring, just on the right side of overwhelming and he clings to it, the whispers in his ears all spark and thrill, in harmony with the adrenaline sparking all along his fingers, the backs of his hands, up his arms, and that's not adrenaline, is it? That's not him, not a hormone, it's... it sings to the tune of his rage, curls around all the strands in his mind that've been simmering all this time. The injustice, the loss, the fury tangling into a roar for justice, and he is righteous, he is power, he is wreathed in it, armored in the whispers that get louder the closer he gets to the throne, higher and more joyous with each stride. They spin off him, spitting off his fingers and his footsteps and the corners of his eyes, feeding off him and he off them and he sees them cowering at the corners of his eyes, those so-called gods with their small minds and smaller ambitions, holding their power over him like the shields some of them are even now raising against the blaze of him, and who do they think they are he's Tony Stark, Tony goddamned Stark, motherfuckers, and you may think you're too big for one little planet, too much power to waste on one backward little race but I'll show you power, I'll show you why no one messes with Earth and survives, no one leaves the Avengers to die and gets away with it, why no one messes with Tony goddamned Stark-!" and he gasps for breath and his voice is an ocean, a hundred waves crashing against the walls of the throne room and echoing through the walls and through the stone and the voices that run through every inch of this place, the energy that used to power every inch of this endless palace spins through him, a hundred triumphant roars echoing his own and when... when...
His hand is out, palm crackling against a forehead, that ridiculous gold eyepatch practically vibrating with the force from Tony's palm and when did he get this close? He's here, he's here and the wall behind the throne is so relentlessly waxed he can see Thor's reflection in it, those huge puppydog eyes he uses when Tony's about to eat the last poptart except this isn't, is it? This isn't, it's not like he's about to...
The armor around him stutters, a hundred tiny flames clamoring discordance as Tony's fingers twitch. He frowns, but this is right, isn't it? This is better. The one golden path, that moment of clarity when he knows, just knows the one thing he's been overlooking, that clear glorious line from a to b, this'll get everyone, everything fixed and put back better than before, because that's what he does, because he's Tony Stark and that's how it works.
He sees the look in Odin's eye too, and there's really a family resemblance there, except instead of the puppydog pleading there's honest shock, really where-the-fuck-did-this-mortal-come-from-and-why-is-he-pissing-in-my-cornflakes real shock there, and there's a desperate giggle tripping from Tony's lips. It doesn't match, out of harmony, out of place, out of time out of space and the laughter doesn't stop, he just keeps going and the voices spun around him start to trip apart in confusion, tumbling against one another as the rage slots again into its place at the back of his brain, his incandescent fury seeping into the into the floorboards that are so cold on the side of his face, freezing, and he rolls over empty as the last of the energy shuffles back into the bones of the palace. Where will you find your purpose now Tony, and he doesn't know, for a beautiful, brief moment he doesn't care. His head rolls to its side and all the faces he sees are wide-eyed, pale faced, weapons half raised with no direction to point them. Thor's eyes are still huge. There's a planet out there somewhere, far away, spinning uselessly around a small yellow sun. There's a tower somewhere, windows dark, empty, empty tower, empty planet, dead place containing everything he once knew of home. Thor looks like someone ran over his puppy and Tony's eyes crinkle around the edges, his lips spread into that signature Stark grin, and he laughs and laughs and doesn't stop.
...Well, that went somewhere.
Note the first: Suggestions for improvement are welcome, as I don't know anyone well enough to ask them to beta for me.
Note the second: I know what's going on here, but I'm never sure how much the way I've written actually explains, so feel free to ask questions.
Note the third: I feel the horde of run-on sentences were appropriate here, but I feel like I should have warned for them anyway. Sorry.