It took him an hour or so to learn the reflex for retraction and
expression of his wings; Tony’s lack of patience was tempered
by his recognition of how important the skill was, and Pepper tried to
be patient. She’d had a remarkable mentor in Granny, and
years of practice; Tony had only days to absorb a lot.
They started with F-Net, and Pepper signed him up, then steered him
through the “Who We Are” and FAQ sections,
expanding on the information there as he asked question after question
about the entire sub-culture.
“You’re telling me that these . . . biologically
mutations have always existed? That there’s been a Fairy
conspiracy, a cover-up for centuries
Potts?”
“Not exactly. Fairies have always been part of legend, Tony.
There just haven’t been enough of them to make a things an
issue, and anytime the mainstream tries to bring us into the limelight,
the folks doing so are seen as crackpots and dismissed, just like UFO
conspirators, or ghost hunters,” Pepper replied patiently.
“Most people with Fey blood keep that information quiet
simply because it’s prudent and better in the long run to do
so.”
“Okay, I can see that,” Tony agreed, “But
what about this whole . . . underground society? Who’s in
charge?”
Pepper blinked. “Nobody. Tony, it’s not like the
old days. If you’re wondering if there’s a Seelie
court or anything like that, forget it. At most we have a West Coast
coordination office with a Manager who keeps the database and maintains
links with other Fey coordination offices across the world, mostly for
genealogy purposes.”
His frustration flared, and Tony threw himself onto the sofa,
grumbling. “That’s stupid! What about
all the characteristics here—the wings, the Charm, the
Healing, the Glamour?”
“Those are . . . finite characteristics, genetically passed
and integrated with human biology, Mr. Stark. If those with Fey blood
breed, then yes, the Fey aspects become stronger, and there are a few
people out there as close to pure as breeding alone permits, but they
don’t survive long,” Pepper told him.
“Not in this century anyway. In the old days Fey kidnapped
human babies to bring human blood into the fey line and help make it
stronger. Nowadays there are some who are trying to do the opposite,
and that’s where Cupid comes in, I think.”
“Is he . . . Fey?” Tony demanded.
Pepper shrugged. “Most people believe he’s from one
of the oldest and earliest lines known, back when Fey had real power.
He and a handful of others are . . . big wings.”
“Don’t you mean big wigs?” Tony
countered, and then thought better of it when Pepper grinned.
“Okay, I get the pun—”
“They’re movers and shakers, sure, but not
organized into any sort of political structure, Tony. From what I
heard, Cupid is high up. His
Charm is off the scale; that’s why he can get
people to fall in love, supposedly.”
“No supposedly about it,” Tony sighed, remembering
the young executive. “How many of these big wings are
there?”
Pepper sighed. It was nearly midnight, and her stomach was growling;
she rose up and stretched a bit, then pulled out her Blackberry and
idly began to dial up El Rosale. “A few. Look, I’m
getting some taquitos. What would YOU like?”
“Burrito Grande, with extra hot sauce. Oh, and chips. Fresh
chips, mmmmmm. I repeat, how many?”
“At least four, with Cupid being one of them,”
Pepper sighed, pointing to the laptop screen. “Here, you can
read about them yourself—I’m going to get some
plates and wait for dinner.”
Pepper cleared Tony’s schedule for the next day, moving and
shifting meetings like Tetris blocks, soothing over irate tempers and
worried associates. Listening to her, Tony realized with shock how much
Pepper utilized her Charm to keep his life running smoothly.
He caught a few hours of sleep, and thankfully this time his dreams did
not feature
Cupid. Instead, Tony found himself in the glade, eyeing it with a new
curiosity. The glade had been part of his internal landscape for so
long that he’d never thought before about whether or not it
might be real, or represent a place in the conscious world. Now, Tony
looked around at the water, the trees, and the forest floor with
interest.
“Looks like
the set of Midsummer Night’s Dream—“ he
called aloud, wondering if anyone else was there.
A soft giggle greeted
this observation, and from behind a tree, a woman had stepped out.
“If you play Oberon, I could be Titania,” she
murmured sweetly.
Startled, Tony turned to
look at her; she wore a dress so short it was really more of a shirt
with ambitions, and on her face was the sort of smile that usually
meant an adult rating for the rest of the dream. Dark hair and eyes,
and sprouting from her shoulders, a pair of butterfly wings.
“And you are .
. . ?” Tony politely asked, neither moving closer nor
stepping back. The woman flicked her wings seductively and strutted
towards him, hips swaying.
“Oh
I’m a contender, Anthony darling,” she cooed.
“I could make you SO
happy . . .” She slithered closer, reaching out to him, and
Tony twisted, like a matador, his sense of self-preservation as strong
here as in consciousness.
“Yes,
I’m sure you could, and at any other time I’d be
more than happy to let you make the effort, but tonight? I’m
sort of busy.”
The woman turned,
annoyed, but quick to mask it. “Oh really? Waiting for a
bus?”
“More like an
explanation,” Tony replied, and lightly caught the woman by
her wrists. “So, Ms. Contender, do you have another
name?”
“Elise. Elise
Marcov. Field Born, around two-thirds, which makes me the top runner so
far,” she replied, smirking down at his grip.
“Oooh, you like it rough?”
Tony let go of her, his
expression cool. “Not really relevant at the moment, Ms.
Marcov. And what are you doing here anyway? I don’t recall
meeting you, or inviting you . . . .”
“Not necessary
since Cupid’s here to enforce the Union,” she
murmured. “Now that you’re in the know about your
Fey status.”
“Huh,”
was all Tony managed in response. It was disconcerting to think that
just anyone
could stop by in his dreams now, and he glanced around the glade, not
sure what, or who to expect.
Ms. Marcov laughed,
softly. “You are so
new to this, aren’t you? Well I’d be happy to
initiate you into Fey culture, Anthony. All the delicious . . .
benefits to Bonding.”
Tony blinked, his gaze
flicking back to the woman with new intensity. “Say
again?”
She pretended to rub her
wrist as she licked her lips, and Tony was distracted by the way her
cleavage shifted with each slow flutter of her wings. “Oh you
know all about the process on the Human level, sure. Tony Stark is
legendary in that
capacity, but trust me, you haven’t experienced b pleasure
until you’ve Courted to Bond, honey. Sex with no
restrictions; no limits; no regrets. I could show you things . .
. .”
“I . . .
don’t think I really want to see your things. Not right
now,” Tony amended tactfully. “Bonding? Union?
Anything more on those?”
Ms. Marcov laughed.
“Oh you are such
an innocent! Anthony Stark, you were promised in Union
before you were born, honey. Given the line you come from,
that’s standard practice—Water Born have
traditionally been a little . . . exclusive, you know. And
Cupid’s just there to make sure you keep the promise your
mommy and daddy made, princeling.”
“Okay,
I’m getting tired of that label,” Tony murmured.
“I’m not a princeling.”
“Yes you
arrrre,” Ms. Marcov sang out. She turned and dropped Tony a
slow fluttering wink. “I think I’ll go slip into
Antonio Banderas’s dreams now, but I’ll
see you
again in a day or two, when it’s time to Bond,
stud--!”
Her wings picked up
speed, and with a graceful little skim she rose in a diagonal line, and
faded out of sight before reaching the first of the trees in the glade.
Tony watched, mostly interested in the process, and barely even
bothering to peek under her skirt as she left.
He pursed his mouth, and
looked around. “Walk in, walk out—let’s
see . . .”
There was only one person he knew
who was both Fey and asleep at the moment, and Tony strolled forward,
curious.
Beyond the trees he
passed into a wheat field, warm in the breeze of night, and in the
distance came a soft laugh. Tony saw two figures moving, and even from
where he stood, he recognized the sensual tawny wings of the smaller
one.
His own flared out,
crisp and bright in response; the sensation made him flush a bit, and
Tony strode forward determinedly feeling an odd sense of air resistance
around his torso.
Pepper laughed again,
one arm on her partner’s shoulder, the other at his waist.
“I know I’m stepping on your feet, but
I’m not good at this--”
“You’re
doing fine, darling,” came the answering murmur in a voice
familiar to Tony; he arched an eyebrow to see a tuxedo clad Cary Grant
dancing with Pepper.
A Cary Grant with
elegant wasp wings, sleek , dark and shiny. The actor looked up and
dimpled his famous smile at Tony. “Stark, old man, good to
see you, even if you’re late to the party. Just helping
Virginia with her foxtrot. Quite the dancer, our Virginia is. Look
who’s here, darling.”
“Tony.”
Pepper observed, less than thrilled, clearly. She gave a sigh and let
go of Cary, who blew her a kiss.
“Ta-ta,
Sweetness. You know where to find me. Stark—behave yourself.
Hard to do old man, I know, but it generally pays off.”
Cary vanished. Pepper
pursed her lips and glared at Tony, who wasn’t sure whether
to laugh or be annoyed.
“Cary
Grant?” he finally asked. “The man died decades
ago. A fairy?”
“Fey,”
Pepper corrected in irritation. “I thought I’d have
at least one more night before you figured out how to dreamvisit. Tony,
what do you want?”
He smirked and held out
his arms. “Let’s dance, Potts. I’m no
Cary Grant, but this I can do.”
She looked distrustful,
but finally stepped forward stiffly, letting Tony led her into the
first gentle steps of a dance. She relaxed by inches, and Tony turned
his head, his breath warm and soft in her ear. “So,
you’re dreaming about me. Do that much?”
“No,”
she replied firmly. “I get enough of you in my waking hours.
And how did you figure out how to do this?”
“Had a
visitor. Someone besides Cupid—and I know I’ve
dreamed of you
before, Potts. Is that really you stopping by, or some phantasm
I’ve conjured up on my own?” he murmured, genuinely
curious now.
Pepper shot him a dry
look, but there was a pink flush along her cheeks.
“I’m not interested in whatever versions of me
you’ve created, Tony. Who stopped by?”
As she spoke, Pepper
absently let her fingers stray from his shoulder to the edge of one
wing, her touch ghosting along it. The effect on Tony was
instantaneous; he sucked in a deep breath, eyes wide as he manfully
tried to act normal.
“Ohhh, just
some woman who said she was a contender, whatever that means, could
you, um, do that again, because seriously—total bliss
there.”
Pepper gave a little
‘ooh’ and pulled back, looking uncomfortable.
“Sorry, sorry—contender. Oh damn. Tony, we really
need to find out exactly what your parents agreed to, because it sounds
like you really aren’t going to have much of a choice if this
Bond has been witnessed and documented. I’m going to wake up
now and see if I can’t get Jarvis to do some digging about
your parents if that’s all right with you.”
Tony gave a nod, and in
an impulsive move, slid his hand up from her waist to brush the outside
of her wing. The feel of it was like warm, heavy silk, and
gratifyingly, Pepper shuddered in a way that could only be described as
primly sensual.
It was a great look for
her, and Tony smirked. Pepper bit her lip and glared at him.
“Stop.”
“Why? You started
it,” Tony pointed out reasonably, “and believe me,
I’m all for whatever feels good. Especially when it feels this good.”
“It’s
not appropriate,” Pepper shot back.
“You’re about to be Bonded to someone
else.”
“Not by
choice,” he reminded her. “And anyway, this is just
a dream. We’re allowed to do wild and crazy things
here.”
Pepper arched an eyebrow
at him and let go of his hands. “Oh really? I
hadn’t noticed---” So saying, she began to flutter
her wings, and by the power of them, rose up in a graceful spiral, her
hair blowing around her smirk. “—fancy that.
Goodnight, Mr. Stark.”
She popped out of
existence before Tony could do more than gawk, and he filed the view of
her legs under ‘delicious’ in his memory bank
before casting a quick glance at his own shoulders.
“Aerodynamically,
this shouldn’t work at all,” he
grumbled.”Too little lift and thrust; too much
mass.”
Apparently his wings
didn’t understand that; with a little effort he managed to
get them moving at a speed that left them a blur as musical humming
filled the air.
And then Tony filled the
air, lurching upward, his amazement coming out in a whoop of joy as he
hovered, arms outstretched. “Oh sweeeeeeeet! Suitless,
even!”
The swoop and dip
enthralled Tony, and he had just decided to fly back to his own dream
when--
“Damn it,” he sighed as he jolted awake, and rolled
off the bed.
The West Coast Coordination Office was reasonably helpful, and with
Jarvis’s unique ability to ferret out information from
unlikely and occasionally locked sources, Tony and Pepper found
themselves looking at a scanned copy of a Pledge of Intention from
nearly forty years earlier. The language was flowery and overly legal,
but the purpose was clear, and the signatures familiar to Tony.
He leaned over Pepper’s shoulder, loving the proximity even
as he tried to keep his focus on the document onscreen. “Holy
crap! My parents made a deal that I’d be Bonded by my
birthday this year in exchange for twenty million in lost
gold?”
“That was only the Fey side of the bargain. Your parents
promised you’d be Bonded to someone Fey to promote the
Blood,” Pepper pointed out quietly. “And since this
was all arranged before you were born, maybe your parents thought they
could get out of it, or that they weren’t going to have children,
Tony.”
He gave a slow nod. “Yeah. They didn’t talk about
things much, but I know my mom had a few . . . miscarriages.
Still—I always thought the money was inherited. You know;
family money.”
“The Stark fortune has always been considered more legend
than fact,” Jarvis interrupted quietly. “For
decades the Starks were genteelly frugal, but from the accounts I have
searched, it appears that the fortune re-surfaced in regular
increments, salted into various banks over the course of five years,
beginning the day
after this agreement, sir.”
Tony gave a grunt of acknowledgement, and lightly rested his chin on
Pepper’s shoulder as he continued to stare at the screen.
“So . . . which one of them was Fey?”
“Don’t you know?” Pepper asked, not
daring to turn her head. If she did, she’d be nose to nose
with Tony and that was much too dangerous.
“I never saw either of them with wings,” Tony
sighed. “And clearly they didn’t clue me in by talking to me,
so—”
“Jarvis?” Pepper looked upward. The voice came from
the embedded speakers, but old habits died hard, and Tony did it too,
occasionally.
“Most of the world Fey family records have yet to be
transcribed to computer, and the Stark and Dellarosa ones are among
those. I can keep searching alternative records, although the deadline
is now at twelve hours and counting, sir.”
“Yeah, I’ve got an eye on the clock,”
Tony sighed. “Shame I’m not even getting a bachelor
party.”
“Yes, that would
be your mindset,” Pepper sighed. “I have the
feeling that we should cancel your party at the Arboretum, Mr.
Stark—I doubt you’re going to make it.”
“Yeah, I have a few things on my mind. Okay—so, my
parents opted to sell my future off for immediate monetary
gratification. Yeah, I don’t feel betrayed at all,”
Tony grumbled bitterly.
Pepper turned her head slightly, her cheek brushing his before she
pulled back. “Maybe they didn’t have a
choice,” she pointed out. “Maybe the Fey one of
them had been promised in a Bonding as well.”
Tony’s gaze lingered on hers as he considered this
possibility. “Okay, that could be so, but damn it, you think
they would have clued me in about this stuff at some point.”
“Perhaps they were forbidden from doing so,” Jarvis
interjected softly. “I have looked over several Bonding
agreements, and the majority of them seem to hold a version of
non-disclosure until the offspring in question reaches a certain age,
usually twenty-one.”
“Which means I was denied information that could have
affected this whole decision,” Tony pointed out.
“Nobody showed up to let me know about any Fey heritage until
this week,
so I consider that pretty awkward.”
“True, but I doubt that as a legal point that it has any
precedent, sir. Fairy promises are notoriously weighted on the side of
the Fey.”
“Oh!” Pepper murmured, and turned back to the
screen, typing furiously for a long moment. “You’ll
need a blood test, to find out just what percentage of Fey you actually
are, Mr.
Stark.”
Tony made a face. “Not sure if I really want to
know.”
“It could be a bargaining factor, especially compared to
your, um, candidates,” Pepper pointed out softly.
“After all, there’s a reason you’ve been
Bonded, right?”
“You’ve just earned yourself a year’s
worth of Fortingall’s, Miss Potts,” Tony nodded,
realizing the truth of her words. “Knowledge is power, and
I’m going to need all of that I can get. Let’s get
tested.”
