Chapter Text
Chapter 4 – Picnic fun
Blinking, because he much preferred the expertly diffused lighting in his workshop to that of the sun, Tony squinted down at all the fuss and pageantry taking place in the palace’s formal garden. Not that Queen Frigga’s birthday could be anything else. She was a queen. They just didn’t nip off for a family and friend potluck at the local community center. Not that anyone Tony had ever known had done so. Hell, for that matter, he'd never even gone to a regular birthday event for his parents. During his mother’s birthdays, she and Howard were more likely to dress to the nines, and swan off to party with senators and celebrities. Leaving Tony to spend the evening with Jarvis or their housekeeper if he was lucky, one of the maids or Howard’s office clerks if he wasn’t.
Furthermore, here in Asgard he could count himself lucky that Frigga had put her foot down, rejecting a feast and tournament in her honor, and instead insisting on an elegant Vanir style garden party. Outdoors admittedly sucked, but at least it was better than three hours outdoors with the thinnest of cushions between his ass and a hard stone bleacher, watching muscle bound idiots beat each other bloody. With that fun being followed by a feast consisting of heavy greasy food, fucking meade, and drunken recitations of daring deeds from four hundred years ago… That seemed to drone on for five hundred years.
Of course, crisp sparkling wines and light finger foods featuring lots of fruit, while walking around in an at least occasionally shady garden, was perhaps not as enjoyable as being at his own house doing his own thing, but it didn’t completely suck.
And honestly, Tony couldn’t have been the only person who wished they weren’t here. Hell, despite it being a garden party, half the men were wearing their super shiny ‘Asgardian Dress’ armor. That much metal exposed to the noon day sun had most of them hugging any scrap of shade they could find, while discreetly scoping out the garden for a cooler patch than they currently had.
Preferably by a fountain, Tony imagined, casting an amused eye at the shine of sun on lots and lots of metal.
Whait a minute. What the-
Fandral, who was still on Tony’s shit list for completely and utterly pissing off the Moon of Tony’s delight three days ago, was not looking for shade, instead he kept flinching and glancing upwards. Rolling his own eyes skyward, Tony tried, unsuccessfully, to see what exactly Fandral was trying to keep any eye on.
Nothing.
Huh.
Brushing off Lord Who-Gives-A-Fuck at the bottom of the stairs, Tony decided to stroll over and check out what was going on with Thor’s sole remaining sycophant. “Hey, Errol Flynn, what’s shaking?”
“Ah, Star--” The dandified warrior’s greeting cut off abruptly, no doubt remembering last month’s ‘discussion’ with Loki, on the proper way to address Tony.
“Rather, Prinsgemalen Stark”
Totally called it.
Asking yourself if Loki was still feeling vengeful was like wondering if nuclear fallout was still radioactive. The answer of course being… yes.
“What’s up Eugene?” He said, noting the way that Fandral’s eyes kept flicking skyward despite trying to politely keep his eyes on Tony as they conversed.
Once more, dragging his gaze back to Tony, Fandral said, gesturing upwards, “I’m not quite sure. I mean,” he flicked his eyes skyward for a moment. “The first time I thought it was just a coincidence, but the second time… The prince isn’t still mad at me is he?”
Okay. Not that Fandral was really much in the way of coherent thought, at least if it didn’t involve chasing a skirt… But he was acting a lot more scatterbrained than usual. So something was definitely up. Or at least coming from that direction.
Tony puffed out a long breath, before lying with a perfectly company polite face, “You know Loki, forgive and forget.” Then, he clapped Fandral on the shoulder and made his escape.
The palace garden was huge, and the amount of local and other realm guests could have filled a fair sized convention hall, so it took more than a moment to find his beloved Trickster.
“Whatever you are doing to Fandral, you need to quit it before you ruin your mother’s party.” Tony hissed into his beloved's shell-like ear.
“Are you mad Stark.“ Loki hissed back, his smile not even wavering as he backed them out of the group around the Álfheim ambassador.
“Arrrggghhhh!”
Turning, they along with everyone else were treated to the sight of an aggravated Fandral brushing at a smear of dirt on his shoulder, left by what the remains around him would indicate, had been a stone embedded in a mud ball.
After the briefest of pauses, several people rushed to help him clean it off, mostly, but not entirely female. Surprisingly though, because good looking women patting him down was not something Fandral generally ignored. But ignore them he was, all of his attention instead focused skyward.
Freaky, but this was Asgard, land of the strange. Honestly Tony wouldn’t have thought much more about it, if a short time later, he hadn’t noticed Aśbrand, looking suspiciously angelic, while surreptitiously palming a few walnut looking things and slipping them into his jerkin pocket.
His kid was a lot of things, but angelic definitely wasn’t one of them.
Tony, and the guards in charge of keeping an eye on Aśbrand, trailed behind the hope of House Stark as he wandered casually through the crowd before slipping away from the food tables and heading behind one of the silk shade pavilions.
“Well?” Tony demanded, looking at Sigarson, one of Aśbrand’s Einherjar guards. The tall blonde shared a beleaguered look with his bulkier partner, before they both straightened, gazing just over Tony’s shoulder in resignation. The royal family's assigned bodyguards were strictly enjoined to keep their principal's secrets. A fact that they knew wouldn't exactly endear them to their charge’s parents.
Scowling, Tony reframed from swearing at the guys, since he knew from bitter experience, and various stories told by Loki and Thor, that it wouldn’t do any good. Instead he pushed past them, all three now following his son behind the colorful tent… His son, who was giving two of the large nuts to his dragon, George, and kid whispering instructions to him to try for the head this time.
“How about no.” Tony snapped. “George, you drop those damn nuts right now, or so help me I will pop you in your travel cage and weld the doors shut.”
Tight lipped at being interrupted, Aśbrand shot a glare at his bodyguards, before turning a muleish face towards Tony. Sir George dropped the nuts immediately. The little green pocket dragon might not have understood what Tony was saying, but he for sure understood the tone.
“You mind telling me why?”
Aśbrand might have been a little kid, but he was Loki’s little kid. So the brat had mad skills when it came to talking his way out of trouble, shifting the blame for things to someone else, or using distraction to stall.
Therefore, Tony didn’t hold out any high hope that he was going to get an easy answer. However it turned out he was wrong. Ash immediately launched into a litany of complaints about Fandral, capping the list off with how Thor’s aide-de-camp had laughed at Loki a few days ago, when what was supposed to be a friendly little game of indoor hockey ended up being more like a cross between roller derby, and celebrity deathmatch.
“Yeah?” Tony shot back. “I’m not too happy about that either, but do you see me pulling nasty pranks on Fancy Pants?”
Kicking one of the offensive nuts off into a flower border, Ash asked, “Are you going to tell móðir?”
“Don’t you think maybe this is something that I should tell your mother?”
Aśbrand shrugged, looking up at Tony from under a few wisps of loose hair, “No.”
“No? You’ve got Lizard Butt here, dive bombing Grand Dam’s party guests. Do you honestly think either Grand dam or Mommy are going to be okay with that?”
Aśbrand looked back at the remaining nut near his foot before shaking his head no.
“Then why shouldn’t I tell him?”
Peering up again at Tony, from underneath his mop of messy brown hair, he offered, “Because it’s funny?”
Tony couldn’t help it, an involuntary snicker slipped out. Which he quickly turned into the most unbelievable cough in the history of trying not to laugh. Because, yeah, it kinda was. Not that Tony wanted to encourage that kind of behavior in his kid. Or at least not if it would get back to Loki that he hadn’t at least tried to turn this event into a life lesson or something stupid like that. So, even if giving ‘good’ advice to small children was not a strong suit of his, he decided to give it a shot.
“You know, sport, things like walnuts, and rocks, are hard and really could really hurt someone, particularly if they hit them in the wrong place or way.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh. Or Scales here might miss and hit someone standing near Fandral.”
“Oh.” Aśbrand said again, this time with a little more understanding emphasis.
“Didn’t think of that did you?”
“No.”
“No, I didn’t think you did. So. Are we clear about how this is unacceptable?”
“Yes daddy.” Aśbrand said, at last turning a small smile up towards Tony.
“Good. Then maybe we don’t need to mention this to mom or grand-dam.”
“Thanks Daddy!” The kid's smile now sun-shiney bright.
Perhaps an hour later, Fandral was crossing an empty patch of lawn, waving to Thor and Jane when a nicely ripe, and apparently very soft peach struck him, right on the top of his head, splattering peach bits absolutely everywhere.