Chapter Text
Setting up the diagram for the ritual went quicker this time. The traces of the previous ritual were still present and Tony had settled more into himself by now. His movements were more sure. In a way, he was almost eager. No, not almost. He was eager. He looked forward to the relief. That wasn’t to say he was completely at ease with it, though.
Tony was well aware of Harley and Peter’s eyes on him, of Pepper and Rhodey and Happy huddling together and frowning. He could practically feel the way everyone’s eyes lingered on him. Even Fury stood nearby, solemn and watchful - coming out to witness a soldier’s sacrifice, as he probably saw it in his eyes. None of them liked this, but they weren’t stopping him either. He’d already said his goodbyes, the arguments made and failed.
The rest of the Chosen gathered around somberly. They understood the decision he was making more than anyone else. They knew that it was both an honor and a sacrifice, a gain and a loss. They understood their Mistress in a way no others could. Tony exchanged a nod with Hela, shared a look with Korma, and then stepped into his place in one of the outer circles, each of the others finding their own. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and then began the ritual. Power built, the air grew colder and heavier, and fog seemed to billow out of the ritual circle. It seemed like Mistress Death appeared more quickly than She did last time, but maybe that was just his anticipation.
Her pale, robed form loomed from the shadows of the fog - at once beautiful and a haunting nightmare. The tendril ends of Her skirt curled and twined together as if with anticipation of Her own. Tony gave a sigh of relief at the sight of her, heart lifted by her calming presence. It wasn’t a feeling shared by those watching the ritual, but each of the Chosen seemed to relax with Her before them.
“My Merchant… My Chosen… You have made your decision, then?”
She knew they had. Of course she did.
“We have, Mistress. All have come to an agreement.”
Her smile was chilling and warm.
“Which of my children will join me?”
Tony bowed his head, bending slightly at the waist in the suggestion of a bow.
“I will. I have chosen to join you at your side. I give you my eternity in exchange for taking Thanos’s immortality.”
Her sigh was one of pure bliss. It could be felt in the very air all around them, a release so palpable that Tony felt his shoulders relax along with it and a smile curl his lips. A hand extended out toward him, long, thin fingers almost skeletal.
“It will be so nice to have company,” Her smooth voice tempted him. He felt the draw like a string around his heart. “Come, my Merchant. Let me lift your burden.”
The world around him dimmed. It wasn’t that he was no longer aware of their audience or the other Chosen, but he had no desire to focus on them. He stepped forward, out of the circle that marked his place in the ritual and toward his Mistress. As soon as his foot hit the ground outside of the circle, a ripple spread from it. The fog encircled his legs as if in greeting. It beckoned him further. He followed its lead.
With every step, the pain and stress he’d carried for years sloughed away. He shed them like layers of bandages that had been wound around and around him. One step and the years he spent in Whitney’s possession fell, a second and the ache of what happened in that Siberian bunker fell away. He felt as each of the burdens he’d been carrying throughout his life lifted one by one. It wasn’t just the weight that was lifted, though. The years were lifted away, too.
Tony grew younger as he walked forward. The aches in his joints faded along with the stiffness of old scars. He could hear the gasps and murmurs of their audience as if from a great distance. Someone called his name. He wasn’t sure who it was or if it was in shock, grief, or something else entirely. He doesn’t turn to look. He only had eyes for Her.
Mistress Death waited patiently at the end of his path, hand still extended. She held as perfectly still as a statue, Her hand extended for him to take. There was no urgency, no rush - and why should there be? They had eternity. A smile curved his lips at the thought.
More steps and he was in his thirties again, strong and confident but drowning as he ran away from his problems. He was in his twenties and trying every drug and drink he could find just to feel something. He was a grieving teen. He was twelve and desperate for his father's approval. By the time his hand reached up to clasp Hers, he couldn't be more than four. His smile was big and toothy as he gazed up at Her.
“Hi,” he said, “are we going home now?”
Mistress Death’s laugh was soft and drifted away like the breeze.
“Yes, my Merchant. We are going home now. Do you feel better?”
He cocked his head to the side, brow furrowing.
“I feel fine. Why wouldn’t I?”
She leaned down and pressed cool lips to his forehead.
“You have carried heavy burdens for a long time, but now that you’re free of them, you can take flight.”
Almost the moment She finished speaking, Tony startled at the rustle behind him. Turning, he saw the black, feathered wings sprouting from his back. They were glossy and beautiful, soft under his inquisitive touch. He stretched them as wide as they would go, his wingspan what must have been twelve feet.
“Wow,” he breathed in wonder. “Have I always had these?”
“You did,” Mistress Death confirmed, “but you weren’t ready for them yet.”
His wide grin stretched impossibly wider.
“They’re amazing.”
“So they are. Now, it is time for us to go. If you have any last goodbyes, extend them now.”
Tony looked around, at his brothers and sisters in the Chosen to the faces in the crowd past them that looked familiar but he couldn’t quite place. He didn’t know what to say. What was he supposed to say in a moment like this?
He didn’t know, so he simply raised his hand with a beaming smile and waved goodbye.