And life went on.

It had to, what else was supposed to happen? The repairs on the Bifröst continued tortuously slowly, but it wasn't like Tony was in any sort of rush. He smiled down at the sight beneath his window, just a twinge of bitterness in his expression. He had all the time in the world, after all.

He turned away to head for the door, grabbing a sleeveless leather vest that was slung over a chair in passing. He shrugged it on over his dark green tunic while walking as he tried to remember how many months it had been now since Loki had fallen – eight, nine? Time didn't really matter in Asgard, no-one really bothered to keep track of it.

Tony was beginning to lose his grip on it, too. He remembered a time when he used to count the days he spent here, back when Loki had still been with him. Day fifteen had involved horseback riding, if he remembered correctly.

He stopped by in the kitchens to grab himself a pastry to eat on the way down towards the workshop, promising Marianne that he'd be back later to help. He was probably even going to come back to that promise, if he didn't crash and burn horribly today.

Oh, well.

While he walked down the hallways towards his workshop, he could feel his mood lightening with every step as his thoughts strayed into another direction. Frigga had allowed him to continue his research and experiments, more than that, even supported and enabled him, and he had made use of that possibility. After a few minutes, he was grinning to himself, practically buzzing with enthusiasm for the first time in ages, and he had to keep himself from breaking into a jog. Still, he took the last few stairs two steps at a time and pushed the doors open with more force than would be usual – since this was Asgard, they didn't hit the walls dramatically because even with Aesir strength, they were too heavy for that, but they did swing open very nicely.

When they fell shut behind him with an impressive, resonating thud, he was already halfway across the workshop, striding towards a small pedestal standing against the opposite wall. He raised a hand towards what was standing on it and hesitated briefly.

Loki should have been here to see this.

For a moment, Tony didn't move, but then he swallowed and nodded. Yes, yes he should have, and he could still see the light sparkling in his green eyes, bright with fascination as they always were when they were down here or in the library – however, right now, Loki wasn't here. He wasn't going to get anywhere if he let that thought stop him.

He took a breath and then rapped his knuckles against the chest plate of the armour in front of him as he murmured: "Let's take you out for a spin, shall we?"

The construction was sleek, colours held in an elegant mix of black and green with small, golden accents set where the joints met. It had been one hell of a piece of work; what would have taken him maybe a month or two on Midgard, at most, had been occupying him for almost eight months here. The materials were all new and at the same time, he lacked the possibilities that he'd had in his old workshop – every single piece had to be crafted by hand, and that was after he had figured out which materials and metals would even fit the task.

On top of that came the runes and the fucking magic. He'd lost track of how much time he had spent in the library, bent over dusty tomes and books, studying enchantments and whatever the hell else they used up here – he wasn't a mage, but then again, magic wasn't just glittery green dust, it was science, there had to be explanations to it. So he studied.

If anything, it had served to take his mind off more unpleasant things; that was what work still helped him with, and although it was frustrating when he felt like he didn't make any progress for days at a time and the cryptic explanations drove him up the wall sometimes, it was all the more rewarding when he did understand something.

About a month had been spent just thinking about how the hell he was going to power this thing; he needed an energy source and he needed a way to get the energy to the different parts of the suit, which would have been easy back on Midgard, but here? Every single step was a challenge, he was starting from scrap and work it all out from the very bottom. He had no fucking idea what kind of energy source he was supposed to use to make this thing fly, for heaven's sake, let alone make any weapon systems work.

In the end, that had been resolved because he'd been angrily ranting about the problem at Fandral for about an hour and although the swordsman knew next to nothing about magic, he did know a bit about Asgardian energy sources, which lead to a conversation about energy crystals, which, in turn, led to more hours in another corner of the library.

God, how he loved that library, for all that he disliked about Asgard. Bless it, it wasn't even held in those obnoxious golden colours.

So after months of frustration, working through cryptic Asgardian tomes and the occasional explosion (bless Frigga for making all this possible – there was so many things he had to thank her for and he couldn't figure out how he was ever supposed to make all this up to her), he'd ended up powering the armour mainly through his own arc reactor, with support from various energy crystals built into different parts that were supposed to help with the transport and distribution of energy. In theory. He was going to find out about the practical side of the deal now, he supposed.

The suit opened up for Tony and he took another deep breath to calm his racing heart, slipping the vest off his shoulders again because he really didn't want the leather to get stuck anywhere in the joints of the armour and jam them. Not on his first flight.

He threw the garment onto a nearby workbench and stepped up and into the armour, which slowly closed around him in a series of mechanical whirs and hums. The HUD, or what he had managed to create that resembled one, lit up before his eyes and showed his surroundings with a greenish tint and Tony flexed his fingers, feeling and hearing the whir and clicking of metal joints. He stepped down from the pedestal and walked towards one of the large windows, more stiffly than usual, but still surprisingly agile. Well, he was just that good.

It took two tries to open the window and climbing up onto the windowsill, which had about the height of Tony's waist, was just plain awkward, but then he stood there, feet apart, arms spread, feeling – no, he didn't feel the wind, he was in a metal suit, but the spirit was there.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered, closing his eyes as he let himself fall forward.

He could hear the wind rushing by, whizzing past him as he squinted in expectation of feeling it, but was once again reminded that he was wearing a helmet. The ground, with Asgard's buzzing streets, was nearing rapidly and with a silent prayer to a God he'd never believed in, Tony turned on the thrusters – and soared.

Adrenaline was thrumming through his veins and he heard his own breathless laughter echo in the helmet before he whooped loudly. He'd tested all this and ran calculations and everything, so he'd been fairly sure that it would work, but this was so much more than he'd imagined. This was fucking amazing.

Euphorically, he curved around the palace, rising up to its towers and circling one of them (barely avoiding crashing into it) before he flew even further upwards, taking in the incredible view from so far up. On top of the palace, above its highest peak, he took a moment to hover and catch his breath, probably grinning like a madman. His stomach was doing somersaults and he was almost dizzy with the rush of endorphins.

For the first time in years, he felt free. Up here, nothing could reach him, he was above every concern, every problem, every reminder of what weighed him down. He was absolutely free. Weightless. Floating.

With another breathless cry, he tipped the armour forwards, then downwards, back towards the ground almost head-first. The roofs were nearing him rapidly and Tony held his breath, waiting until the very last moment before he powered the repulsors up again, flailing briefly at the recoil and then rising again.

He lost track of the time he spent like that, figuring out the controls and growing more familiar with the suit which quickly became like an additional limb. This was heaven.

Still, it had to end sometime, and far too soon, he was flying back through the window of the workshop with far too much speed, crashing into a workbench and toppling it over, followed by a series of crashes and thuds as everything that had been on it found a new home spread over the lab's floor and around (or on top of) Tony, who was laying on his back, limbs akimbo, and was torn between giggling and groaning.

The armour opened around him and he sat up, strands of his too-long hair falling into his face where they had come loose from the leather band that he'd tied them back with, and the inventor rubbed the back of his head while he caught his breath. He'd have to work on the landings a little.

All of sudden, the door swung open and Frigga hurried in, her skirts fluttering around her as she looked around until she spotted him, sheepishly looking up at her. Tony waved carefully and cleared his throat, trying to ban the grin from his features as he said: "I'll... clean it up again?"

She shook her head with a relieved little laugh as she replied: "I believed you had hurt yourself." However, there was a certain tension in her posture, overshadowing her relief and darkening her eyes.

Worriedly, Tony got up, steadying himself with one hand on the workbench that was laying next to him. "No, I'm fine," he stated slowly. "I'm sorry, should I have – I took the suit out for a test, was that okay? I should probably have asked for permission, I didn't think about..."

"No," she interrupted, so very unlike her, "no, that is not it." She seemed to steel herself, drawing herself up straighter as she looked straight into his eyes. "Anthony, do you want to go home?"

For a moment, Tony stopped breathing, his mouth opening in a silent question that didn't leave his lips. He reached behind himself, steadying himself on the workbench and leaning against its edge, hearing something crunch under his boot as he took a step backwards.

He needed a few tries to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him and Frigga, bless her, waited patiently until he managed to get out: "D'you mean – the Bifröst isn't – it's not fixed yet, is it? I know it isn't. There's..." He cut himself off, shook his head, cleared his throat. Started again. "Alright. Okay. What brought this on?"

Frigga closed the door behind herself and stepped over a tool on the floor as she approached him slowly. "My husband is sending Thor to Midgard to fetch something. Usually, travelling like that is..." She hesitated briefly. "...not exactly permitted, but I have seen something that made me inclined to take desperate measures." She didn't talk about her Visions very often, at least not to Tony, but he knew that they were important and not to be disregarded easily. "So since we are opening a gate for Thor, there is a possibility to bring you with him."

The inventor swallowed rapidly, trying to wrap his mind around what he was hearing. He had expected to be stuck on Asgard for years until they managed to fix the damn bridge – it was obviously no easy construction work and so far, there was barely any noticeable progress because nobody seemed to know exactly how it had been built in the first place.

"I – yes," he forced out, "yes, I'm going – oh god." He buried his face in his hands as he muttered, "I'm going home." Even as he said it, it felt wrong; but it would become right again once he was back, it would have to. He was going back. "Yeah," he repeated, "I'm – I'm going home."

He took a shuddering breath. Yeah, he'd been looking forward to this – at least he had told himself he did, just so he had something to look forward to – but now it was here and he had to deal with it and suddenly, it didn't feel like a good idea anymore.

"Can – can I...?"

Frigga's previously unreadable expression softened into something sympathetic and she nodded. "Of course. You have an hour to say your goodbyes, we will be waiting at the Bifröst."

Tony nodded, relieved, and willed himself to pull himself together. "Okay, just... two things. First of all," he pointed at the armour on the floor, "I'd like to take that with me, if I may. It's... well, it's armour, I'll be wearing it, so it won't be an additional bag or anything. Just... you know, it's a bit of..." He trailed off, unsure about how to put it. This was what he'd held himself up with during these past few months, the almost desperate determination to finish what he'd started, finish the plans that had begun to take shape in a cave so many months ago. It had kept him going and given him a goal, something to prove when he had sorely needed it. "A reminder, I guess," he finished eventually. "I'd... feel uncomfortable leaving it behind, I guess."

She hesitated and Tony felt his fingers nervously clenching around the workbench while he waited and tried not to look impatient as Frigga's gaze wandered over the armour that still lay on the floor like the shell of some creature that had evolved past the stage of hiding in its cocoon and left it wide open.

"I do not think it will be a problem," she finally replied and the inventor exhaled in relief.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, "honestly. Thanks. And, well, the other thing..." He awkwardly tapped his fingertips against the glass cover of the arc reactor. He had to force out the next few words because if he wasn't lucky, they might just destroy his chance of getting back again. "When Freyja... when Freyja took me," he began uncomfortably, "she... she teleported us. The reactor, it interfered with her magic. I don't know how, exactly, but apparently, it messed with the spell or something, I don't understand much about that."

Frigga shook her head. "Don't fret," she told him. "Freyja's magic is vastly different from that of Odin and myself. Apart from that, I have grown used to your heart device, I will be able to stabilise it. I have already spent some thought on this, believe me."

The engineer nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I do." They were both silent for a moment, then he straightened up, clapping his hands together. "Alright then, I suppose I'd better get going. Only have an hour, after all, better make the most of that." He pushed away from the workbench to head for the exit and stopped in front of Frigga, looking up at Asgard's queen. "I... well, still not sure about some things with the etiquette here. Is it okay if I...?"

She smiled at him warmly and nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course."

Tony smiled, relieved, and stepped forward to wrap his arms around her tightly, feeling her return the embrace. "Thank you," he murmured quietly. "Thank you so much, for everything. Really, I just... thank you."

"You are so very welcome," she answered warmly, her had rubbing circles on his back. "It was my pleasure, all of it."

He nodded minutely and allowed himself another second of the safe, secure feeling of being held in the secure embrace of a mother before he stepped back and nodded, clearing his throat briefly. "Yeah," he muttered. "I just... wanted to have said it." Frigga smiled warmly again, but didn't keep the conversation up or made it awkward like it probably would have become if Tony had kept on rambling. "Right. I better get packing, then. I'll see you."

Tipping his imaginary hat back, he hurried past her and out of the workshop, hesitating in the hallway. One hour suddenly felt like a horribly short time and he had no idea where to start because this might be the last hour he ever spent on Asgard.

Oh God, this was the last hour he'd spend on Asgard. He needed to do something.

Hastily, he hurried down the hallway towards the living quarters while he made a quick, mental list. He'd need to say goodbye to Fandral, maybe more than anybody else beside Frigga, so he headed into the direction of the swordsman's quarters first, hoping to find him there.

Of course, as it always was when you were in a hurry, that was not where Fandral was. Tony groaned in frustration, leaning his head against the cool metal of the door, and then turned on his heel to move into the opposite direction. If not here, there might be a chance to meet the swordsman on the training grounds; he only had an hour, dammit, he wasn't going to spend it chasing the blond warrior throughout the palace.

He did get lucky on his second guess, though, and hurried towards the area where he'd spotted Fandral. Standing on the side of the area which was covered in sand, he waved the other man over impatiently. The swordsman gave him a vaguely exasperated look, pointedly glancing towards his sparring partner, but when Tony mouthed it's urgent at him, he sighed and disarmed his opponent with two quick movements, gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder and jogged over towards the inventor.

"What is it?" he asked, sounding just a little out of breath. Heaven knew how long he'd been out here; his hair was sticking to his forehead in sweat-matted strands, which most likely had something to do with Asgard's sun burning down onto the open space.

When I'm back on Midgard – Earth, Tony thought irrationally, correcting himself, I'm taking a vacation in England. It never rains here, I'm actually starting to miss it.

"I've gotta talk to you," he replied, looking around, and then added: "Not here." Fandral cocked his head, apparently confused, and seemed to work on an answer, but Tony cut him off impatiently: "Please, Fandral, I don't have much time, it's important, alright? I'll explain as soon as we're not being overheard, promise."

The night when they'd wandered down to steal that bottle of wine, followed up by Fandral's alcohol-induced kiss, was about two months ago now. Although the subject had been unpleasant at first, especially from Tony's side because he'd tensely paid attention to not send any wrong signals, which had made the whole atmosphere between them plainly awkward, he considered himself to be over that particular moment by now. He refused to let that one thoughtless moment destroy one of his few friendships in this realm.

After another moment in which the swordsman regarded him with concern written clear over his face, he nodded and swiped a sleeve over his forehead as he responded: "Lead the way, then."

Thankful that the other man didn't press the matter, Tony waved for Fandral to follow him and hurried back towards the shelter of the palace to find some spot where they wouldn't have people watching their every move. He was too impatient to walk all the way back to their quarters, so he stopped inside the first empty corridor they came into and turned to face Fandral.

"Alright," he began, wringing his hands in front of his body. "I'm – I've been talking to Frigga. To the queen, I mean. She's sending Thor to Midgard for... something and I'm... sort of going along for the ride. I'm... yeah. I'm going back home." He took a deep breath and glanced up at the swordsman, who was looking down at him with incredulity clearly written all over his features. Hating himself just a little bit for it, he added quietly: "And... I suppose I'm not coming back. Not until the Bifröst is fixed, anyway. Which, I gathered, is gonna take a bit."

"That..." Fandral began, trailed off, then cleared his throat and started again. "That is... wonderful," he got out at the second try. "Honestly, I am so very glad for you. Those are wonderful news." While he did look sincere, there was an expression of honest grief on his face, and while it mostly made Tony uncomfortable with a completely unjustified bad conscience, a small part of him was ridiculously happy that there was someone up here who cared that much.

"S'pose they are," he agreed quietly. "I mean, really. They are. I'm – I'm happy to go back, you know, I didn't exactly leave in nice circumstances. So I've got a lot of stuff to sort out, I'll be happier when I got that done." He wasn't sure whom he tried to convince more, Fandral or himself.

Now that Midgard (Earth, dammit) was in tangible reach again, he became aware just how much that old life had shifted into the background during the almost two years he'd been gone. There was so much on his mind now – even his nightmares had gotten new fuel that didn't involve Obadiah anymore. That didn't mean he didn't appear anymore at all, but more recent events had taken his place without Tony even really noticing. A nightmare stayed a nightmare; in the end, its contents didn't matter all that much.

In an attempt to break the weirdly tense atmosphere, Fandral huffed a quiet laugh. "It is going to be terribly boring here without you," he stated.

"You're a flatterer," Tony responded drily, "but look at the bright side. When I'm not here to distract them anymore, you might finally have a chance with the ladies again."

"My chances with the ladies are perfectly fine as they are!" the swordsman protested indignantly.

With a reassuring pat to the other's arm, Tony said soothingly: "Yes, of course. Keep telling yourself that."

Fandral snorted and they lapsed into silence for another few moments before the warrior shook his head and muttered, "oh, come here". He grabbed Tony by the arm and pulled him close for a short, tight hug that Tony gladly returned; he hated awkward goodbyes. Especially when it might be his last.

He pulled back after a few seconds and found Fandral smiling at him as he said quietly: "I wish you luck, Anthony Stark. Come visit me if you have the opportunity, will you?"

"Yeah," Tony nodded. "Yeah, I will. I mean, it's not like I'm going to run out of time anytime soon. We'll meet again, no need for drama." He gave a grin, even if it was sort of uncertain, and gave a small, playful salute. "See you around, Fandral." The swordsman nodded, and look at that, he was just as bad with goodbyes as Tony was. Well, he was just going to hold on to the belief that this wasn't going to be the last time he saw Asgard. This was a goodbye, not a farewell, and he was going to believe that until he was proven differently. "Okay then," Tony said, a little more loudly than necessary as he clapped his hands together. "I still gotta pack, so I'll be off now."

He raised his hand for another short wave, then hurried off before he could draw the situation out even longer. Before he made his way towards the chambers that he and Loki had lived in, he made a quick detour towards the kitchens; somehow, he felt like he owed it to the staff and Marianne, who swept him up in an embrace tight enough to force the breath right out of his lungs before she handed him a piece of some sweet pastry and sent him on his way after he had exchanged pecks on the cheeks with half of the girls working in the kitchen. That was what he got for working with women for a year.

Not that he was complaining, mind you. Maybe he should have pretended to leave earlier if it got him all those hugs and kisses.

After that, with about a quarter of an hour left, he practically jogged back to his room, moving as fast as he could without actually breaking into a run. He was slightly out of breath by the time he arrived and, without much of a second thought, stumbled into Loki's room.

He cast a look around and took a deep breath, heart pounding in his throat not only from exertion. He was leaving; maybe not for good, and so far, they had left Loki's chamber alone, but what if it had changed by the time he was back? If he got back? Maybe that was the last time he saw this room, that was a very legit possibility, knowing his luck.

With a few steps, he had reached the door that led to Loki's massive wardrobe, a room all of its own, and breathed in the smell of leather that still lingered in the air. It was, somehow, incredibly comforting and he wasted another minute just standing there and breathing it in as he looked around. Slowly, he trailed his fingertips along the racks of clothing until, at the far end of the room, he reached the shelves where the simple, folded tunics were stacked.

Nobody would know.

Irrationally, Tony looked back over his shoulder like he might discover Frigga or Thor or Odin suddenly standing behind him, then he glanced back at the tunics in front of him. Nobody would know. Nobody. He couldn't pack anything other than the armour – but nobody was going to know what he was wearing beneath the suit.

After a few more hesitant moments, the inventor took a breath and picked a dark green tunic at random. He buried his nose in it for a second, biting his lower lip against the tears that threatened to well up at the familiar scent.

God dammit, would that reaction ever stop? He had thought he was done with it.

Vehemently, Tony shook his head against the tears and drew a shaky breath. He pulled the tunic over his head before he could think better of it, smiling faintly at how it made the height difference between Loki and himself obvious – the sleeves covered his hands down to his knuckles and the hem of the tunic hung about halfway down to his thigh. There were golden adornments on its sleeves and collar and it was probably cut to fit snugly on Loki's waist, which still made it too large for Tony, but he didn't mind. This was a piece of memory that he could take with him.

Turning on his heel, Tony hurried out of the room before he could give in to the temptation to curl up in a corner and bury himself in a leather coat to never come out again. No, that wouldn't be even remotely helpful, thank you very much.

The only problem was getting from here down to his workshop unnoticed – or, more precisely, preventing anyone from taking note of his getup. The too-large dark green tunic over the more fitting one was probably not even excusable as a fashion slip-up anymore, even though the colours were the same. By now, people knew him; before, he'd been the younger prince's strange slave and now, he was the servant living in the fallen prince's quarters. He wasn't a celebrity, exactly, but he got recognised on occasion.

As it turned out, he needn't have worried. He tucked the tunic under his arm and hurried back towards the workshop while he tried not to look like the personification of guilt, and since he kept his head down and took care not to bump into anybody – turning invisible was a skill that he had learned early on – there was nobody to call him out on his little act of thievery. With a faint hint of amusement, Tony shook his head over his own paranoia.

Back in the workshop, he pulled the tunic over his head again and shoved the sleeves up to his elbows as he set to work on tidying the room a little. He heaved the workbench he'd toppled over before upright again and picked up the worst of the mess he'd spread on the floor before he took a last look around. He had no way of taking his research with him, but he had memorised most of it, so he would just hope that that would be enough.

And, after all, he might be returning in a few years' time.

With a faint feeling of shock, Tony realised that some part of him was going to miss Asgard. Sure, it wasn't even halfway the same without Loki, but this was the place where he had begun to recover, had dared to begin trusting other people again. His stay hadn't always been pleasant, but there were fond memories attached to the place. In some aspects, it had almost become home, although it would never actually be one without a certain someone who was out of the picture now.

The inventor shook his head and awkwardly climbed into the armour that was still splayed out on the floor. It was impractical, but definitely easier than trying to lift the heavy suit from the floor; instead, he clumsily straightened up as soon as it had closed around him and stomped over towards the window.

God, the things he would be able to do with this suit once he had his technology back.

This time, he didn't bother to climb up onto the windowsill to start; the clumsy last time had been enough for now. As elegant and smooth movement in the armour was when he was in flight, climbing and walking was still a little difficult if he wanted to go further than simple steps. Acrobatics weren't really much of an option as of yet.

Carefully, he powered up the repulsors to hover over the ground after the faceplate of the helmet had snapped shut. Carefully, he manoeuvred out of the window, briefly glancing over his shoulders but then shrugging. It would just have to stay open, he couldn't very well close it from the outside.

Even though he knew it didn't have to be, speeding away from the palace felt final. He'd be returning one day, he was fairly sure of that, simply because it was bound to get boring on Midgard after a bit when he had a nearly immortal life span and outlived everybody around him. He tried not to think about that particular part of the deal too much. Anyway, once the Bifröst was restored and allowed travel without the use of some sort of forbidden magical energy (not that he understood too much of that), he was most likely going to drop by again.

He wondered when he had begun to think of Asgard as a place worth returning to.

Tony landed on the Bifröst bridge with a solid thud, coming to stand next to Frigga and a step behind Thor. The queen glanced over at him, eyeing the armour curiously, but it was hardly a time for questions so when he flipped the faceplate up to give her a respectful nod, she just returned it silently and motioned for him to stand next to her son.

The inventor complied, greeting Odin with a small bow as well as was possible with the suit around him and a murmured "your Majesty", which the god responded to with a quiet, gruff sound; they had never actually spoken to each other and the old man probably just let Tony tag along because his wife had asked him to. Oh, the things Tony owed to Frigga.

He glanced over at Thor, who had an uncharacteristically grim, dark expression on his face, and not for the first time, Tony wondered what exactly was important enough to send the thunder god down towards Midgard when the transport really needed that much energy and effort. Something serious had to be going on down there, but the engineer doubted that now was the right moment to ask when Odin said a few words towards Thor about taking care and not wasting any time with his mortal and about how he knew how important this was, which told Tony nothing, thank you very much (he was beginning to believe that was on purpose).

Well, he was bound to find out, he supposed, if he tagged along with Thor for a bit after they arrived. The thunderer would hopefully not mind, even though they weren't exactly on best terms. Tony didn't even really blame it on the argument that they'd had after Thor had come to ask him about Loki and Freyja (which, later on, he had never attempted again); they had just never really hit off. They had never had to do much with each other because other than his adoptive brother, Thor had never taken an interest in Tony in any other form than something to tease Loki about.

And, well. That wasn't really possible now, was it?

While he had been silently musing, Odin and Frigga had taken up a quiet murmur, reciting and murmuring a sequence of words that came together in a strange sort of harmonic chant, accompanied by the prickle just under his skin that Tony had come to associate with magic. In the last moment, he remembered to quickly close the faceplate of the suit before the world suddenly seemed to tilt around him.

Being teleported by Freyja had been horrible, apparently due to the effect that the arc reactor had on spells woven around it. It was something about its energy signature, as Loki had told him at some point in the laboratory, because the reactor emitted its very own frequency that apparently had the potential to interfere with magic, especially when it was unexpected by the spell caster. Frigga, though, was prepared, so despite the fact that they were crossing the borders between realms, the tension bled from Tony's body when he noticed that crossing the borders of realities didn't bring the same painful feeling with it that it had last time.

Since it wasn't the first time he had been transported this way, he was actually able to determine the moment when they arrived and everything seemed to fall back into its proper order around him. Still slightly incredulous, Tony took a first look around as he took off the helmet for a moment.

They stood on the top of... well, not a mountain, but a formation of rocks that looked out over a forest, dark except for the weak light of the moon, giving the whole scenery a slightly silvery touch.

Asgard's moons were much brighter than that.

The next thing he noticed as he took a deep breath was how different the air tasted. He hadn't been here in nearly two years, Tony realised, and this... this felt foreign. He hadn't just taken a holiday in another country, he had seen completely different worlds, he had been further away from here than he would ever have thought possible. Now that he was back, the differences seemed all the more obvious; the slightly richer scent of Asgard's air, but also the pleasantly chilled atmosphere of this place that the Golden Realm with its eternal summer lacked – and the helicopter. Hearing helicopters was really not likely in Asgard.

Tony glanced upwards and could just barely make out a black shape against the dark night sky, approaching quickly and – and there Thor went, taking off with his hammer without a single word.

"So much to ask for just to tell me what the fuck is going on, is it?" the inventor muttered, shaking his head. He took another look around; the knowledge that he was back on his home planet, his home world, hadn't quite settled in yet, maybe because it was a place he had never seen before. If not for the sound of engines approaching, he could have mistaken this landscape for that of any other forest on any other planet.

Since he didn't have a clue where he was, Tony decided on following Thor and pulled his helmet back on quickly before he took off into the air after the other man. Thunder was rolling across the sky now, black clouds darkening the moon, and Thor did like to make an entrance, didn't he?

While he quickly caught up, Tony could spot him approaching the helicopter – no, that wasn't a helicopter, that was a... quinjet? Yeah, this was definitely Earth – and did a long sweep around it to fly down towards it, landing on top of it with a loud thud that shook the entire vessel.

"Someone in there isn't gonna thank you, buddy," Tony murmured, wondering what it was that prompted Thor's interest in that particular quinjet.

The hatch on its rear end opened to reveal a blue-clad figure holding on to something inside to prevent himself from falling out. Tony reached the quinjet just when Thor dropped from its top onto the opened hatch. The man in stars and stripes stepped forward with an indignant "what do you think you're doing" on his lips, but Tony's attention was elsewhere.

With any sort of witty retort dying on his lips, he practically ripped off his helmet to get rid of the green tint that the HUD gave his vision as he stared at the man who was strapped to a seat near the hatch, the wind pulling on his clothes and tousling the matted black strands of long hair falling down to his shoulders. The inventor couldn't get a word out; he felt frozen in place and suddenly dizzy like someone had forced every last bit of air from his lungs.

Motionless, he stared as Thor pulled the man out of his seat, and all Tony could think of in the split-second that their gazes met was how wrong the cold blue colour of Loki's eyes was.

...

I will just... quietly put that here... and leave. *waves*

Um... bad news? I'm spending the next week in England, so I most likely won't manage to write... so sorry! I'll catch up as soon as I can! Until then... I suppose I'll leave you hanging. Sorry.