Seven chapters! Never thought I would make it this long. I thought four, but the story gripped and gripped. It might end up being 11-15 chapters at this point. Who knows? Enjoy! -'Tastic
A/N 2: Editted.
The Avengers would come. He couldn't have a child here. How could he? The former CEO traced his arch reactor scars in deep thought. A habit he picked up. It was the only thing he could do as he waited for the bravery to do what he needed to do next so instead he thought. About-
His stomach growled.
He was so hungry after so long. There wasn't enough food to keep his stomach from demanding more. His face hurt. He knew it was swollen and puffy without looking at it. He felt a fever coming from the infection the damn thing had contracted. He hoped it would leak pus or something so he didn't have to find a way to use his metal shard to cut the thing open to relieve the infection.
Great here comes some stuffy tears.
He had lost count of how many times he began to spontaneously cry in the past two weeks. Or at least he thought it was two weeks. Maybe it was the hormones that were kicking in. As if not being able to keep most of his food down was enough. At least he kept half of it in.
Sucks to suck. Tony thought as he managed to feel his painful fevered face and dip the metal into water he could spare that he knew was clean.
He did the best he could to keep it clean before digging into the infected wound. He would have to drain it and if things got worse at this point, cut away dead skin much like Yensen taught him in the caves. He knew by feeling that the skin was puffed at the entrance of the wound and some sort of ulcer was under the surface. He would have to make an X and push everything out that he could and wash with the other half of the clean water.
Damn.
He would not cry in the middle of cutting into his skin. He dabbed away sweat from the wound with a side of his bedding. Hopefully, this would make the situation better. He would not die in a dungeon light years away from his home.
Thor will come. He will help. He has to, this is his brother. The Avengers! Someone!
Tony had not been doing so well. His fever was getting worse and his fatigue had stopped him from being able to drain the wound due to his shaking hands. He hadn't been able to keep anything down even though his waist began to expand. His hips sore from being forced to accommodate for what was to come. He in return has became bedridden. He hasn't seen anyone, but he has a feeling they will at least give him some sort of bath else he would stink the place up, not that he could even smell it beyond the nice foresty smell he had gotten used to. The beginning of claustrophobia also made themselves known. This forced Tony to constantly keep his eyes closed so he wouldn't see the walls caving in.
Someone.
Nooo! Yensen!
The shout bounces off the walls. It echoes terribly. Flashbacks plaguing the intelligent mind hidden in these four small brick walls. Unknown to the man, the tiny unborn child moved in distress within its magical womb, its magic sensing its bearer's fevered state. It had developed a mind of its own and registers the sick state of its 'mother'. Sending bits of healing magic. Despite that, Tony is drowning under the infection from the fact that it was approaching 3 months since he had been imprisoned and his lack of being able to keep food down and constant fever induced flashbacks were starting to break the man slowly mentally and physically.
He didn't remember the past week or so. Magic had kept the man from going insane apparently. At least he was able to keep food down now. He also noticed how his stomach now had an extend slope outwards near his private regions. Not noticeable to anyone but himself under his baggy prisoner garb and underwear. His lower abs were now gone for the next few months making Tony began to wonder and think as he observed the changes the past few weeks he was inside this concrete and metal box. It had been a long time since he had spoken a word from his throat. Finding it useless when no one could hear him, even the finally established baths were silent with his eyes closed to avoid the harsh lighting.
He had been mocked how he stank enough for the guards to complain. They sent prisoners to clean his makeshift toilet while he was forced into bathing.
The dark gloomy light from outside his blue tinted cell was too much for him to keep them open to see who was washing his weathered, scarred, and dirty body. He only open his mouth to keep them away from his reactor with a growl that rasped from his throat. His hair was longer than he was used to. It had began to fall over his eyes. He apparently offended people with his supper short hair. So hair growth hair product was used.
He spent most of his time curled up and looking out at the drawing on his wall. The drawing he carved in a fit of insanity. Or boredom. Maybe both.
Life seemed so easy back on Earth with his expensive items and friends that he had come to considered family. He would give anything to have Pepper yell at him for being late or ditching a meeting by romancing his way out the door. He would give anything for a game night with her, the Avengers, and his Rhodie. He was proud of himself though. At least he was able to give Loki enough time to breathe outside the womb before they snuffed his light out. The man behind Iron Man knew he stood no chance against Asgardians. Even now, weak and hungry, he could do nothing but fight for his son. His innocent son.
Days later had anyone been listening, they would have heard a cheerful man talk ecstatically through theories of magic, science, and life on Earth. The man lying back on the bed was rubbing his stomach, the one could no longer be hidden by baggy prisoner clothing, was even laughing when every time he rubbed his belly a faint movement could be felt deep under his skin. Life was growing there and there was no denying cold grey walls could not hold it back. Even when the man took his arc reactor light and made up stories and shapes with his hands. The man told tales and fables of old and spoke in circles. Even said his plans out loud. He would speak until he was too tired to or when his throat gave out then the man would hum a lullaby till he fell asleep. Love showed in the eyes that just weeks before was contemplating taking his own life to spare his little one the pain. This man had begun grow joy in the tiny cell. Today the man would rather be here with his son safe in his belly than on Midgard without him.