When Tony was barely a year old, after a routine blood test, his parents found out about the results from the New York Post rather than his pediatrician. Typical of Howard, his father sued the newspaper, the doctor and the blood clinic but the damage was already done. The cat was out of the bag, so to speak. Play dates with prominent families became mergers and takeovers. Howard was really good at baiting without promising Tony to the highest bidder. For years, speculation on the future of Stark Industries was a regular headline. Never mind that Tony can rebuild a car engine from scratch at the age of seven.

In vain, Tony labored to impress his father like Captain America did, to see beyond his Omega status as leverage. He didn't want to be paraded about and be some Alpha's trophy. It turned out, when the World Security Council came knocking, Howard didn't accept anything less for his son than an alien Prince and exclusive rights to technology beyond human scope. He was nine when his father made the deal as sole source to the Alliance and kept the trade secrets close to his vest.

By the time he turned eleven, Stark Industries was already on the cutting edge, but the Proclamation contract put the company on the bleeding edge of technology, twenty years ahead of its time. The company's success only pushed the greedy Board of Directors headed by Obadiah Stane to hunger for more and made Tony's gilded cage smaller.

Facing false claims, coerce bonds, and attempted kidnapping became regularity. The few classmates he had were suspect, his mentors as easy pundits, and pack mates became nonexistent. He couldn't trust anyone and wasn't allowed to form any type of bonds even if he wanted to due to Howard's iron control.

So to hear Thor's request made Tony feel all kinds of unease. What a novelty to have an Alpha ask him his preference. The big guy must have talked to Tanna even though the other day Thor was ragging on her for being just a lowly servant. Granted Tony didn't specify her to be discreet about their interactions, he should have said something. It only proves to trust no one. The only silver lining is that at least Thor cares enough to find out what he likes this time.

They were heading to the Royal stables again when imagine his surprise, Thor bypass the stalls and leads Tony down toward the open pasture. He had assume they would need to travel to the forge and Tony rather get on a horse again verses having the Smithy come to him as Tanna had plan. So this, this is unexpected. Two mammoth goats (or rams maybe), about two-thirds the size of Sleipnir stood grazing beneath a gnarled looking tree.

Thor walks right up to them and starts petting their sides with affection. A broad smile spans his face when the pair bleats loudly in return, "Meet Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjostr."

Being not very fond of animals of any sorts, Tony kept his distance. He remembers reading about them, but the words are too foreign for him to even try pronouncing. He says instead, "Um, translation please?"

"Toothgnasher and Toothgrinder, I raised them since they were little."

Odd names but so is everyone here. Tony only read the Cliff's Note version of Norse myths seeing as how it isn't even recommended by some of the dignitaries as factual resource. He'd seen for himself, Queen Frigga or Freyja seems to be one and the same person like a few scholars has surmised. Also Loki is the son of Odin and not his brother. These mythical beings whose influence human cultures are just long lived aliens. Not gods. Tony has no problem differentiating the misnomer and looks forward to seeing more of their technology. So far though, he's not that impress with the medieval backdrop with the exception of the Bifrost and AllSpeak. Even meeting a few varieties of alien species hasn't really floated his boat quite as much as probably Bruce would have if they were to switch places.

Unsure of what the protocol for meeting pets were, he gave a cursory wave at them and says, "Nice pets."

Tony wonders briefly whether the part about Thor using them for food and conveniently reviving them with a magic hammer is true. So far, he hasn't seen the mythical hammer at all. It is written that Thor, the thunder god, and the hammer are inseparable. At this point, Tony chalks that part up to a writer's fanciful embellishment.

When Thor begins to tack up one of the goats, a suspicious thought set in, "I hope you don't mean for me to ride one of them?"

The big guy only pauses for a moment before he continues his task.

"I have considered when last we spoke you have wanted lower— a smaller creature to ride upon. Alas, they are as mischievous as my brother," Thor says in all seriousness.

He then explains to Tony's puzzled expression, "They bite."

Since biting goats are much more dangerous than horses, he relaxes a bit. Tony had meant that question as a partial joke but it has been hit or miss with the big guy. However, he couldn't help and chuckle at Thor's own words. It probably isn't meant to be funny.

At his reaction, Thor looks curiously at Tony before stating, "No riding this day, mayhap when you are more acquainted. Instead, they often pull my chariot. Would they meet your approval?"

A chariot drive à la Ben Hur style?

"Hell yeah!"


It took them less than a half hour to arrive at what looks like the gates of Mordor built flush against the bottom of a cliff, right next to the waterfall Tony saw when he first arrive at the stone balcony. By his estimate of the distance, it should have taken the goats several hours. That is if they were traveling at whatever stands for average speed for goats. Tony estimated ten miles an hour at best. Apparently Thor's pets had his Bugatti beat without even breaking a sweat. And Tony didn't even arrived wind chapped either, even though the passing scenery was a blur. Now that he'd thought about it, the trip to the coast on Sleipnir went pretty much the same.

Considering what he's seen, Tony begins to see why Asgard's Viking culture is stagnating. They have a Bifrost wormhole that eliminates building space ships for large-scale travel; animals that can move and respond faster than any vehicle for small-scale travel; and AllSpeak to overcome any language barriers. If he is to deduce, the forge would probably be advance and old school at the same time. Which makes hiring Earth for the Alliance needs makes sense. Humans practically pioneered the art of mass production.

And from what Tony's read between the lines, what is seen as a problem on Earth is actually a plus to other Realms. With such long life spans, the evolutionary need to procreate must be genetically muted. Although this doesn't explain the natural order of Alpha, Beta, and Omegas being retain in their genetic makeup. Social scientists would deduce asexuality as an eventuality if that is the case, so it must be something else. What it does explain is that their population growth must also be stagnating as well, in which their Council's agenda to encourage interspecies bonding through Thor makes sense; a larger gene pool is needed to replenish the stock. How SHIELD would spin this after the galactic war should be interesting to witness. Come to think of it, most likely it would involve Tony pregnant with an alien baby as a spokesperson. Wonderful.

Upon their arrival, the gates immediately open and Thor lightly pulls the rein to stop the massive goats at the front courtyard. The Prince jump down first and raise both hands up towards Tony and caught himself from going further. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Tony nods his consent and Thor beams up at him before lifting him down.

An elder looking cat-elf with tawny colorings, very much like a humanoid version of Garfield minus the potbelly and Cheshire grin, greets both Princes with the usual hand to heart bow. Though Tony does notice that the bow isn't very formal or very low. In fact, the old elf looks altogether put out. To Tony the scenario seems weird too, especially with such a large operation. He expected the place to be bustling with elf-folks or maybe a dwarf or two.

"Greetings Prince Thor and welcome to Onollo or simply Stone Cliff, Prince Anthony Stark of Midgard. Prince Loki has sent a missive before your arrival and as much as we appreciate a good warning, I hope you understand how much this visit delays the war efforts?"

Definitely grumpy elf is speaking to Thor on that count. Wow, disrespectful and chiding a Prince no less. Tony likes the guy already. Thor on the other hand, judging by that frown, does not.

"Know your place, Mortan. We shall not take long. Anthony has expressed an interest to tour the Royal Forge and wish to make a request. See that tis done."

Those old resentful eyes pierce Tony with their gaze. Not wanting to be associated with Thor's arrogance, Tony sneaks a peak at Thor and rolled his eyes for effect. Mortan snorts in response while his Betroth remain oblivious.

"Very well. Come, Prince Anthony. I have given the workers an hour off. You look like a person who will ask many questions. Let us make haste. There is much to see and many grounds to cover."

When Thor makes no move to follow them, Tony stops and turns around to inquire, "Aren't you coming?"

It is only polite, since this is supposed to be their second date. The Prince is already tending to his pet goats when he wave Tony off, "I am quite familiar with Onollo and I suspect Mortan will be much more forthcoming with answers were I to remain scarce. I trust that no harm is to come upon my Betroth."

That definitely isn't a question and not meant for him obviously. He'd probably get a better reception with Tanna. The old cat-elf merely nods to acknowledge the threat before he signals Tony to follow him once more.

The open courtyard they arrive in split into two sections to what looks like a separation of living quarters and work area that were cut into the cliff side. Mortan didn't even bother pointing out the living quarters, where Tony suspects are where the workers are. This did make him pause in thought wondering briefly why they had to stop all work because of a royal visit. Well, whatever; he's about to see elfish engineering at its finest.

Regardless of his age, Mortan crosses the threshold to the work area with swift efficient steps; all business to get this visit done and over with. Perhaps it was, all business that is since the elf did mention production work for the war efforts. They must have inspections and deliverable visits all the time.

Tony pass through the threshold and into a large cavernous chamber with torches for lighting and minimal furnishings, a few chairs and small bistro-like tables scattered about, most likely a lobby of sorts. Beyond the lobby were half dozen hallways, each were varying size of width and height. Instead of choosing a path and going any further, Mortan turns around and face Tony. Interestingly enough, the grumpy face is gone completely. Only curiosity carved the frown lines. Or so Tony thought.

"Before we continue, I hear from Ambassador Larien that your holdings are overseeing Midgard's efforts for the war. Which lead me to inquire, why the immediate interest here? Are you planning to usurp our entire commission? If that is the case, you can take your sweet arse back to Midgard."

Fair enough, Tony's eyebrows shot close to his hairline.

"Whoa! It's nothing like that man—er elf. I am a man of science and an engineer!"

Seeing the puzzle look, Tony rubs the back of his head with a hand as he tries to sort out his lingo a bit better.

"You know; a person who builds and tinker with stuff? Figure out how things work and tick? And make it ten times better? Not that I'm planning to do that for whatever you elves are doing of course. "

The tawny elf gives him a measure look that lasted longer than it should to be comfortable and finally snorts before muttering something unintelligible about the wrong brother. Tony chalks it up to old folks being ornery.

"I believe you. So let us make this quick, I got a schedule to keep and your scent is only getting thicker. As you say, what makes you tick then?"

This really isn't the kind of tour Tony is expecting but he'll take whatever he can get, although the comment about his scent makes him wonder if his human body odor is really that offensive? He chalks it up to aliens with sensitive noses again.

"Well, I'm really interested to see the operation as a whole, the workspace, the techniques on the tools use, the stuff you work with and how."

Mortan finally flashes him a smile, brief as it is since he begins talking immediately.

"That is quite broad, Prince. You see there?"

The old elf points widely at the different size corridors.

"We separate the work area on the scale of the commission. Each chamber is self-contained except for the grander scale commissions that require assembly. In that case, we use the courtyard. So let me ask you again, what do you fancy?"

Tony rubs his chin as he thinks.

"Besides weapons, what else are you making?"

Mortan snorts again.

"Do you know of any Asgardian who does not want more weapon or armor? Rarely do we receive differently. If I heard Prince Thor correctly, you have a commission for us?"

He isn't prepared. Tony is hoping to see what the forge is like prior to revealing his intent. It looks like the old elf is determined to know before showing him anything.

"Okay, so I get the whole preference for hand to hand combat thing, but I prefer a range of defense and offense. So I built this thing here."

He begins to remove one of his leather vambrace and flash Mortan the metal cuff underneath with what looks like a glowing jewel that he wears habitually and demo how it works. The plates begin to span out and encloses his entire hand up pass the wrist. The glowing circle flashes in warning on his palm.

Mortan didn't even bother asking but immediately took up his gauntlet hand and inspects it. For good reason, Tony begins to feel rather nervous.

"A bit rudimentary. The metal could be better and the power source limiting. The design could be more protective of the wielder. Though the weapon concealment aspect is certainly un-Asgardian."

He knew it. Tony recognizes disapproval when he hears it as he deactivate the gauntlet and place the leather vambrace back on. At least he thought it was until the old cat quips, "If this is a sample of Midgardian science, I approve."

Relieved, Tony breaks into a wide grin and shares the rest, "This actually belongs to an entire suit of armor. I would have brought it with me but my Uncle Steve started giving a lecture and I cave. I'm on the seventh model right now. There are a few things I want to change and add. I was hoping maybe I can get some pointers for design and suggestions for materials? Maybe even use a small part of the forge to build it?"

Before he even finish, Mortan is shaking his head no. Tony would pout if it didn't make him look un-Princely.

"Absolutely not, not until you are bonded. Even then, tis questionable especially with this particular one as your Betroth."

This isn't good. Tony is hoping to have something to do whilst he waste his days being courted. His boredom would kill him probably long before any foreign sickness would.

"Now do not look so disappointed. You may not work here at your disposal, however if I recall, there is a small forge near the stable the horse smith uses at Gimlé."

Hopping with excitement, Tony presses onward, "So you'll help me?"

"You are a peculiar one I will grant you that, young one. Aye, I shall provide you with the aide you need. I do question the need for a full suit of armor. If it is of similar material, how can you move when the power fails you?"

He shrugs. Tony guess as much, it's always nearly the first question people ask him.

"I'm only mortal and besides I can fly in it. As to the power problem, let's say I have a good source built in."

Mortan actually looks impressed.

"Indeed? I would express then, the need for armor whilst not in the suit and train in weapons that require your own strength to wield. Tis decided, I shall show you this one."

And the old cat moves decisively to the second corridor to the right as if they hadn't stopped to chitchat. For his age, which is probably older than some civilizations, Mortan moves rather quickly. Tony is so busy trying to catch up with him through the meandering passage it takes him a while to realize what he step into. The dome shape cavern is about the size of a baseball field. He could see the outlines of the different workspace perfectly and understood the reason why the forge is located next to a waterfall.

The elves had harness the power of a watermill, very much like a finery forge to automate some of the smelting, grinding and sawing process. Off centered from the middle, is a round pool of molten fire. Surrounding the perimeter were anvils of various size and shapes, some standard looking and others a variation of. There is one ginormous anvil in particular that looks like it would take ten blacksmith to hammer whatever is on it out. Above the fire pit is a large shaft that probably is used to funnel the toxic fumes outward.

Mortan calls him over to the rows and rows of shelves filled with a variety of armor pieces and weapons. He points at what looks like swatches of cloths.

"I recommend something like this chainmail as a layer of armor to be worn when you are force to vacate the suit."

Tony picks up a sample of light thin chainmail that looks similar to the mithril shirt describe from Lord of the Rings. It really isn't his style.

"Actually, this is too thick and slippery. I usually wear a thin cloth t-shirt and jeans underneath."

Mortan grunts.

"These items you mention do not sound like they offer much protection if at all. So a thin yet clingy strong material….ah! I know just the one."

The elf points at another sample of cloth to him and Tony immediately picks it up and put the fabric through the ringer of stretching and tries tearing it. It doesn't budge. Also, seen from a certain light the fabric looks transparent to a point where it blends in. This would make him appear nude; again not really his style.

"No offense, but I rather not appear in my birthday suit when I'm out of the suit."

Mortan frowns in confusion.

"What is this birthday suit you speak of?"

Damn it, Tony thought he could get by a day without flushing beet red.

"It means, um… appearing nude."

Cackling. Honest to Einstein, the ornery grumpy elf from before is cackling at his expense.

"Aye! Heh heh! I can see how this material might display your comely figure. This material is infused with shadow thread from Svartalheim and offers you concealment as well as protection."

Stealth mode? Awesome!

"Nice, what other properties does it have? Is it temperature regulating? Energy dissipative or capacitive? How much damage can it handle?"

Mortan shook his head in good humor; a broad smile creasing his face.

"I believe you to be the kind who would prefer to find out for himself. Take a few samples of materials I have and mull it over. Once you figure them out then we can talk of designs and such."

Tony's returning smile is equally as wide.

"Deal!"

The tawny elf began sorting through a few more samples and placed them in a burlap sack for him. When they were done with that rack, Mortan led him to a wall full of weapons of various length and sizes. Although all newly made, the type of weaponry looks like they belong to a museum; in the ancient warfare section for close combat. Tony personally prefers the World Wars section.

"So which do you fancy?"

He didn't want to seem unappreciative so Tony ventured a closer look. Being in the weapons business, he isn't unfamiliar with the items displayed. He made a point to become an expert in the field and excel at it after all. Once the galactic war is over, Tony intends to divert Stark Industries more towards security, robotics, and telecommunications. It would probably be against his father's wishes, but Tony wants to eventually phase out from weapons making. Having the title Merchant of Death christened by Obadiah isn't something he wants to be proud of. Being crown the Da Vinci of his Generation had a better ring to it, even though he doesn't paint.

Pick something, the old elf says. There are various types of staffs, quarterstaffs, spears, and halberds. Not really Tony's style. He sidesteps quickly away from the section of war hammers, morning stars, maces, and axes. If Clint is here, he would have drool over the different range of crossbows and long bows. And then there are the blades, lots and lots of them with different width and length. A few of them reminded him of this rare blade called the Ulfberht made circa 800 A.D. It is a thing of beauty. Again not really his style, although Tony could see Uncle Steve wielding it in one hand and his shield on the other.

"You fancy that and the long bow do you?"

Startle from his reverie, Tony spins around to face Mortan.

"Actually, I was thinking of my pack mates back home. My friend Clint is a trick shot and fancy long-range weapons, but his passion is bows and arrows. And then my Uncle Steve has this huge round Spartan type of shield made from Vibranium. That long sword here probably would go well with it."

"Are they Omega warriors like you?"

Uh oh. Tony recognizes that look. It always seem to happen when he mention his pack mates somehow or other. There are two categories: either they are interested or disgusted. Never neutral about it.

"Sorta. Clint is a Beta who bonded recently to an Alpha called Black Widow and Steve is an Omega who puts the super in super soldier."

Oh boy. That look certainly belongs to the interested category.

"Is he bonded as well?"

So Tony huffs in warning, "Look you can stop that thought right now. My Uncle Steve is not a typical Omega, he's a pioneer, practically a national treasure. He leads our pack like an Alpha and doesn't take anybody's dominant shit. Many has tried and failed."

Oh no. Tony did a mental face palm. He just fanned the flames apparently.

"Sounds like an Omega worth earning. My son, Calder, is looking for a mate for two centuries. If you put in a good word and provide him an opportunity, I shall teach you what I can."

Damn it. The old tabby cat-elf drives a hard bargain: Steve's virtue or ancient alien knowledge? He thought about it for only a minute.

"I can't promise you his hand in marriage, but I can introduce him to your son. It'll be up to Steve whether he wants to be wooed or not, capisce?"

"As you say, deal."

Proud of his bargain, Mortan smiles with all teeth, which reminds Tony of the creepy Cheshire cat and pointedly looks away.

"Prince Anthony, you have yet to mention your preference. I cannot believe I have nothing here worthy of your interest."

Tony shrugs before commenting, "I usually built my own stuff, as you can see from the gauntlet. I like range capabilities: lasers, missiles, bullets, bombs, like that. The gauntlet can shoot repulsor beams and the armor suit has all that other stuff built in."

Mortan shakes his head as if he's disappointed with what he's hearing.

"Aye, for Midgardian tis understandable. However, what if your power source is down and all your ammunitions are gone? What then?"

"Now you sound like my Uncle Steve. Look I've trained in a few fighting styles, Wing Chun, Jiu-jitsu, Kendo, stuff like that. Most of the time, my suit ends the fight and I go home and eat celebratory pizza without anything broken or bruised up. It's all good."

Mortan shakes his head again; it's probably because he couldn't understand half of what Tony is saying.

"A war is upon us. You will need more than one suit to hold back the hoard. Our enemies would not stop until all cease to exist."

Tony knew the old guy is right, it's just not something he likes to dwell on.

"You're the close range weapons expert; you tell me what you think I need?"

"You have mentioned the training you had; a demonstration should help my assessment of you."

So a kata it is. Tony jogs his memory of a weapon he trained in and moves to a wide-open space to demo as if he has a bokken in hand. A few minutes later, upon finishing, he turns toward Mortan for his evaluation.

"Well?"

"A two handed weapon that can be use single handed as well. Light weight, medium reach, mainly used for slicing and stabbing. A curve single sided blade with a sharp tip. It would need to have a good balance as well as an amalgamation of hard and soft metals. I am picturing a long hilt with a round guard and leathered grip, possibly a scabbard worn at the waist."

Tony didn't feel too guilty about dangling Steve on the platter. Mortan's knowledge is so worth it.

"It's called a katana back on Midgard. A legendary sword smith called Masamune used seven layers of various type of steel to make his finest creations. There's only a few left in our world."

Intrigued, Mortan ventures a guess, "You have one, aye? Tis a test?"

It is Tony's turn to grin like a Cheshire.

"As you would say, aye. I didn't bring it with me, but I do have the design."

He digs into the pocket of his leather vest and fishes the folded blue print paper out. They move to a somewhat empty table and spread the paper out. Mortan takes a moment to process the information.

"I shall take up your challenge. You will find my craftsmanship to be better than legend."

"It better."

Tony holds out a hand to shake on it, but Mortan gives him an odd look.

"On Midgard, we shake hands to seal the deal."

"That is an odd custom. Do all Alphas, Betas and Omegas share scent willingly? Without reservation?"

"Um, yes and no. We usually wear gloves with strangers. So yeah, I forgot."

Tony activates his gauntlet once more and this time Mortan takes his offer.

The sudden reverberation of a giant bell being rung reaches them.

"That is the first warning bell. I believe your time is up, Prince Anthony. We must resume our work. It will be an honor to work with you. I will send word upon completing your commission."

They had begun their short trek back to the open courtyard.

"Do you have an estimate on how long it would take? I would like to consult you about the materials for the under-suit once I completed my experiments."

It didn't take long before they reach the threshold in the lobby. Mortan pauses to think about it.

"I will see to the commission myself, however given my schedule, I would say less than a fortnight if all goes well. Meanwhile, I am sure you will have enough to keep you busy."

Tony fails to hold back a sigh upon that reminder.

"Yeah. Prince Thor wants me to meet his pack mates. I have a feeling they aren't really my kind of company. I rather be here or working on the under-suit idea."

Mortan shakes his head in good humor.

"I realize you have been rather candid with me even though we have just met. I enjoy your company, Prince Anthony. If I were younger and hopefully my mate would not kill me for thinking such, Prince Thor will find he has more than one contender to compete with. And do not worry so. I have met his pack mates for several of their commissions. You will find Lady Sif and the Warriors three to be ideal companions for Thor. They are loyal, protective, and fierce warriors. However they do have their faults so I do not envy you. Be well."

With a bow that is much more respectful than the earlier one, Mortan makes his exit as he walks toward the living quarters. Tony is flattered by old elf's flirting and couldn't help but feel only fondness. He moves his gaze to Thor and his waiting chariot then wishes he can say the same of his Betroth.

For a second date, it sucks.