One Year Old/16.12.1995

'Happy Birthday Astrid!' The crowded party cheered, watching Tony help her blow out her candles.

She grabbed two fists full of frosting as he lowered her back to the ground, laughing hysterically as she toddled off, shoving her fists to her mouth and attempting to dodge the legs of attendees.
Running didn't seem far off at all, his tiny baby just smashing through milestones at hyper speed.
'Daddy! Cake! More cake?' She toddled back, stretching her arms up to get to the cake on the table.

'Hang on baby, let's get it cut up so everyone can have a piece, then you can go nuts, okay?' He chuckled as he picked her up, Ana happily taking over to cut the cake for the crowd.
Peggy dutifully wiped frosting fists and face, laughing quietly as she cleaned some from Tony's face, as she had just 26 years marched endlessly on. She never wanted to forget a moment. Thank god Jarvis was filming the event. Tony had insisted of course, on having a professional photographer to capture the day. But the smaller, more personal moments Jarvis was capturing, would be so very special.
It would forever bolster her vague belief in some kind of fate or cosmic being, that the 3rd anniversary of her friends deaths, was also the birth of their only child's daughter. Some things were simply too coincidental to be a true coincidence.

That evening, when the house was again quiet, dinner had been eaten and he allowed his birthday girl another slice of cake.
She would only turn one, once, after all.

Astrid again mashed her fist full of cake into his mouth 'Daddy! CAKE!' She was giggling, while Tony made exaggerated "nom nom nom" noises and playfully nibbled at her hand.

'Beautiful cake, my darling girl' he kissed her temple, both their faces now smeared with cake.

'I'm here, I'm here!' Rhodey called as he jogged in, dropping his bag by the kitchen bench.

Astrid twisted in his arms to look for the source of one of her favourite voices 'Unkaja' she whispered, glee overtaking her expression and writhing to escape her fathers' arms.

'Slow down, I'll put you down' Tony laughed 'go get him' he set her on her feet, and she steadied herself for a step or two, until Rhodey crouched.

'UNKAJA!' She squealed, and ran as fast as she could on wobbly little legs into his arms.

He swooped her up and threw her into the air, her laugh filling the open room 'she's running Tony!' He grinned with excitement, his little niece just blew him away every time he came home. Strange how he regarded this as home, more than where he lived. He chose not to dwell on the thought, focusing on the moment, the pure joy he held in his arms.

'Its been threatening all week' her father laughed 'trust her to pull out all the stops for her favourite uncle'

'That's my girl' Rhodey kissed her hair 'you did great, my little star. You're going to be the next Flo-Jo, aren't you?'

'CAKE!' She beamed and mashed her full fist into his mouth 'unkaja eat?' Just like her dad, he made exaggerated "nom nom nom" noises and nibbled playfully at her fist until she pulled it away with many giggles 'More?'

'No thank you bubba' he shook his head and kissed her frosting smeared face 'how about you run back to Daddy and show me those speedy legs again?'

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Tony loved every moment of the journey she was taking him on. Loved watching her brilliant little mind develop, her firsts, the way she burst with love for almost everyone and everything put in her path. At bedtime when he showered her little face in kisses, she returned the gesture, leaving his face covered in cheerful baby slobber. How could he have ever doubted he could do this?
She had given him so much purpose. Unconditional love. A reason to come home. Not just come home, he rushed home. Being with his little girl was the highlight, the joy of his life. He'd never imagined anything drawing him from a life of pleasure and doing exactly as he wished, and here he was, beyond devoted to the tiny human who may as well be his heart outside his body.

Tony Stark went from serial womaniser to devoted father overnight. Well, he still held the playboy title, but he never took a woman home anymore. No one got access to his kid. In one way, he didn't want her to see a woman in their home and get attached, and he definitely didn't want to share her more than he already did. The shift in his image didn't bother him half as much as people warned it would. He knew he would give it all up, he'd take a vow of celibacy if he needed to, to give his little girl everything she needed, all she wanted.

At the start he wore a baby carrier more than a suit, actually he often wore them together. Though now she was walking she wanted to walk on her own everywhere, unless she was nervous. The way she had so quickly moved through levels of dependance on him was a little shocking, but she always came back to him. He'd read a parenting guide called the circle of security, based on attachment theories and behavioural psychology- he'd dismissed it a little at first, but then when he watched, he saw how accurate it was.
He was her home base, her safety.
She would venture out, test the waters, interact with others, all the things described- and then she would reach a point where she needed him again. Astrid would come back, big green eyes shining with her big gummy, and then toothy, grin. Sometimes it was just a look, a reassurance he hadn't left. Others she came back to sit or stand beside him. His favourite were when she all but scaled him to hug him, wrapping her arms around his head and neck and holding onto him tightly. And then soon enough, just his smile, or presence, or hug, was enough to refill her confidence and she was off on her journey of discovery again. He couldn't yet let himself think of her teen years, when the space between glances of reassurance would surely stretch beyond what he needed.

She loved being in workshops, the noises of machinery and touching anything that seemed to capture her attention. Her fingers never stopped, any time he needed to do any electrical work, he would set her down on her own work chair, with thin little wires and show her how to coil and twist them. She loved it, handing him tight coils and standing next to him on a step stool watching in fascination as he would solder and braid them into one another. Workshop grease and grime covered so much of her clothes, it gave him a strange sort of joy that she was so willing and determined even as a toddler. The curiosity and fascination didn't seem to fade, only increase.
To his own surprise and happiness, he discovered she loved wearing a suit to match him. As soon as she could say the word, she would gesture between them with a pleased smile and whisper 'MASCH' with a little glint in her eyes. He almost didn't want her to learn her T's, it was so sweet.
Of course, people expected her dressed in dresses. The best dresses. And she had hundreds. Most worn once and never again before she outgrew them. Local thrift stores were booming with her hand me downs.

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It was unexpected to him then, when he sat with her in the rocking chair to read her a story, that tears began to leak from him. So much joy it was overflowing, the only way for his body to truly express the emotion of the day, of the months. His voice was stopped in his throat and she shifted on his lap to look at him, at what could possibly halt him in the reading of her favourite- Dr Seuss.

'Daddy… sad?' Her little face was drawn with worry, and she reached up to wipe tears from his cheeks 'no cry bubba. Is okay?' she repeated what she'd heard him say to her when she was crying.

'I'm not sad, my little love' he kissed her forehead and smiled 'I'm so happy. You're growing up! You're one now! My big girl'

'No more bubba?' She asked, pointing to herself 'big?'

'Almost big' he nodded 'but not a little baby anymore'

'No cry' she repeated, stroking his cheek gently 'assid love daddy'

'Daddy loves you too' he gave her another smile, swallowing the lump in his throat 'let's keep going with our book, do you think the man will like green eggs and ham?'

'No Sam-I-Am!' She shook her head with a little giggle, satisfied that her father was calmed. Though she snuck small glances up every so often to check on him, and she held him a little longer before letting him settle her in her crib. She wouldn't need a crib soon- hell she didn't need it now- but he was hesitating taking the side off, or buying a real bed. Already it felt like too big a step to childhood rather than baby and toddlerhood. While that last faint whiff of baby smell clung to her, he would cling to her infancy.

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Watching her sleep, tears poured.
God, how had he ever doubted?
9 months of his beautiful girl, and she had made it easy. It was so easy. He couldn't have built a more perfect child if he'd done it in his workshop like Doctor Frankenstein. Of course there were things he found challenging. But even those, well, she made it easy.
Was it that he had fluked a daughter who had a happy disposition? Had her DNA formed to make her patient and interested? He certainly wasn't patient. That must have come from Annabelle.

Annabelle.
That beautiful woman.
He would sing her praises until the day he died and then if there was a heaven and he was allowed in, he would kneel before her and sob in gratitude of the gift she had given him. He would also beg forgiveness for the way he had kept her for himself.
Selfish, yes. But he hadn't put up a photo of her for Astrid to see yet. As far as her little mind knew, there was only Daddy.
For now he rationalised it as she wouldn't understand. If she knew there was mommy, she might WANT mommy, and that wasn't possible. But soon she would. Her peers were mostly still crawling, still finding their first words. He knew not to compare, but she was ahead, she was going to be lapping them soon. Soon she would want to know where she came from. Why her friends in playgroup had mommies and daddies and she had nannies and daddy.
And he would have to loosen his grip a little, and introduce his precious baby to grief.
Yes darling, you have a mother, everyone has a mother. But yours is dead. Like mine! Twins!
He shook his head a little to clear it. 4 years ago tonight they had died. Strange to think he had languished in his grief and thrust himself into work and women and whatever tickled his fancy in that moment, only to have it halt, to have to fully step into a responsibility he couldn't think of backing out of. And how happy he was that he hadn't.

And though the grief was still there, the ache wasn't.

The aloneness wasn't.

He was still an orphan but he had a family.

Astrid had bound together the people he loved: Rhodey, Jarvis, Ana, Peggy… she was like glue. Without her, he doubted he'd have seen Ana or Peggy at all this year, outside of his birthday, maybe. Rhodey certainly wouldn't have hurried from DC for a weekend- not as a ladder climbing Airman.

Astrid Maria Stark, world changer.