Chapter Text
The Marvel School was a sanctuary hidden from the judgment of the outside world—a place where the misunderstood, the brilliant, and the extraordinary found their true purpose. Here, talent came in many forms, and four great houses stood as pillars of that diversity.
Magus House was a haven for the mystic, where raw magical power coursed through bloodlines, incantations, and unshakable will.
Novastra House thrived on intellect, invention, and the endless pursuit of knowledge.
Zenith House welcomed evolutionaries—those born or remade with abilities beyond comprehension.
Dominis House ruled the art of strategy—composed of minds that played life like a grand game of chess.
Within these hallowed halls, every student wore their house colors with pride. And yet, beneath the banners of unity fluttered centuries-old rivalries. Chief among them was the cold war between Magus and Novastra—magic versus technology. Unspoken rules governed this feud: no friendship, no romance, no alliance. To cross that line was to betray everything your house stood for.
And today, on the final day of the Great Game, that line was about to blur.
The sun hovered high above the school’s vast battlegrounds, its golden rays lighting up the domes, towers, and forests that served as the terrain for the last and most crucial event of the term—a treasure hunt.
Three days of relentless challenges had brought every house to the brink. Now, it was down to two: Magus and Novastra, and their champions were neck and neck.
Stephen Strange, the Magus House captain, soared through the air, his crimson Cloak of Levitation billowing behind him like fire in the wind. His fingers sparkled with residual magic, his eyes locked on the horizon.
Beside him flew Tony Stark, Novastra's prodigy and technological genius, his customized thrusters propelling him forward like a streak of burning metal. His armor gleamed under the sunlight, all sharp edges and sleek design—technology in its purest, most beautiful form.
Their rivalry was the stuff of legends.
“Ready to lose, Stranger?” Tony called out, a smirk tugging at his lips as he kept pace.
Stephen narrowed his eyes. “You wish,” he snapped, and with a flick of his wrist, surged ahead.
Tony pushed his thrusters harder, a grin on his face. The adrenaline was intoxicating. The prize was just within reach—until fate, or perhaps something more sinister, intervened.
Without warning, a glowing rope snapped out from the dense trees below, coiling around Stephen's ankle mid-flight. His cloak shrieked through the air as he was yanked down violently. He crashed into the ground with a grunt, dust and magic bursting outward from the impact.
The crowd watching through holographic screens gasped. From the sidelines, Magus students rose to their feet. Novastrians shouted for Tony to press on. The treasure was only a few meters away.
But Tony didn’t move.
He hovered, eyes fixed on Stephen’s crumpled form below. Time slowed.
Just fly. Win this. Leave him.
But he couldn’t.
Against every shouted command in his earpiece, every glare from his teammates, Tony turned around and descended, landing beside Stephen in the dirt.
“Hey,” he said, kneeling beside him, “Are you okay?”
Stephen groaned and pushed himself up slowly. “I’m fine,” he muttered, more embarrassed than injured.
The moment they made eye contact, something unspoken passed between them.
Before either could say more, a thunderous roar erupted overhead. Thor Odinson, captain of Dominis House, had taken advantage of their pause. Riding on a hammer-powered flight arc, he zoomed past them both and reached the final beacon—the treasure.
The Great Game was over.
Dominis House had won.
Cheers echoed across the grounds as Thor’s teammates stormed forward, lifting him onto their shoulders in celebration. Confetti exploded in the air, golden banners unfurled, and the Dominis students erupted in joyous frenzy.
Stephen blinked, still dazed. A crowd had gathered—Magus students rushing toward him, Novastrians glaring at Tony.
“Stephen!” Wong shouted, skidding to a stop. “Are you alright?”
“He was attacked,” Mordo snarled, scanning the treeline. “I knew the Novastrians would stoop low.”
“What? I didn’t do anything!” Tony shot back, his voice tight with disbelief.
“Then how did he fall?” Mordo snapped.
“I stopped to help him, you idiot,” Tony snapped, just as Justin Hammer swaggered over, smirking.
“Oh, please. More like he cast some love spell on you. Maybe Strange wanted you to lose,” Hammer said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Stephen’s face flushed with fury. He clenched his fists and stormed away, brushing past Tony without a word.
“We’ll see you again, Hammer,” Wong hissed before running after Stephen with Wanda and Loki in tow.
Tony stood frozen, his jaw clenched.
Bruce Banner, his close friend and Novastra teammate, approached quietly. “Tony. Let’s go.”
The celebration continued as Thor made his way through the crowd, his smile wide.
He approached Tony and wrapped him in a bear hug. “Thanks, friend. Your little trick helped me take the win! Didn’t think you’d ever let me steal the glory.”
Tony pulled away. “I didn’t let you. Stephen was attacked. I stopped to help.”
Thor shrugged. “Whatever the reason, I owe you one.”
Tony didn’t smile. “Sure.”
Bruce joined him as they walked away from the crowd.
“What just happened, Tony?” Bruce asked, his tone quieter now, serious.
“We lost,” Tony replied flatly.
“I saw that. And it’s your fault. We had it. You chose to go back,” Bruce said, eyes sharp.
“I just wanted to check if he was okay,” Tony admitted, exasperated.
Bruce stared at him. “Why? He’s Magus. He’s our rival. This wasn’t charity—it was the final challenge.”
Tony paused. He looked down at his hands. “I don’t know, okay? Maybe I was being a gentleman. Maybe I panicked. Maybe I just didn’t want to win like that.”
Bruce’s silence was heavy.
Tony scoffed. “What, is that a crime now?”
“No,” Bruce said slowly. “But it’s not me you need to explain that to. It’s the team.”
The mood in the Novastra common room was stormy.
"Damn it!" Darcy exploded, slamming her water bottle down on the table. "If we had won, we’d have secured the championship. Now we’re tied with Magus!"
A murmur of frustration rippled through the room as the rest of the team slumped into the couches and beanbags, still wearing their competition uniforms, sweat-slick and grimy from the field. The banners of Novastra, navy with glowing silver constellations, hung silently on the walls—as if even they were too disappointed to flutter.
T’Challa leaned forward, elbows on knees, sharp eyes fixed on one person. "Tony, what happened out there? Why were you trying to help Strange?"
Tony, still panting lightly, ran a hand through his damp hair. His voice was cool but defensive. "I wasn’t helping a Magus—I was helping a fellow student who was down. That’s all."
"A Magus who conveniently happens to be your biggest rival," Hammer muttered darkly from the corner. His arms were crossed, and there was a smug twist to his lips. "There are rumors you wanted Thor to win."
Jane Foster’s head snapped up. "Stop it. Tony would never do that."
Hammer scoffed, his eyes gleaming. "Of course you’d say that—your boyfriend won."
"Shut up, Hammer," Jane snapped, shooting to her feet.
"I won’t," Hammer growled, rising to meet her glare. "I bet you and Tony conspired to let Thor win. Makes sense, doesn’t it?"
The accusation hung heavy in the air—and then it shattered with a crack. Tony’s fist connected with Hammer’s face before anyone could blink.
Hammer stumbled back, clutching his cheek, eyes wide with disbelief. "What the hell, Stark?!"
"She told you to shut up," Tony growled, standing over him, eyes blazing.
T’Challa immediately got between them. "Enough! All of you! We haven’t lost completely. We’re still in first place—just tied. There’s still a chance at finals if we play smart."
Tony stepped back, jaw tight. He didn’t look at anyone when he said, “I admit, it was my fault. If you want me to step down as captain, I will.”
"Shut up, Tony," Bruce grunted. "You won us all these games. You mess up once, and we throw you under the bus? I don’t think so."
T’Challa nodded. "Let’s talk about this later. Everyone’s exhausted. Let’s get freshened up and grab lunch."
Meanwhile, in the bustling cafeteria lined with long tables and clattering trays, the mood among the Magus students wasn’t any lighter.
Stephen sat with his friends, slumped forward, half-heartedly stirring his soup.
"I can’t believe Tony would cheat like that," Pepper said with a heavy sigh.
"Of course he would," Mordo sneered. "He never wants us to win. He’s been sabotaging us for years."
"It wasn’t him, Mordo," Stephen muttered, barely loud enough to be heard.
"Then who was it?" Wong asked, glancing at him. "Only you two were close. Thor was way behind."
"I don’t know," Stephen admitted, his voice strained.
Christine, his best friend from Dominis House, leaned in. "So, is it true you used a spell to stop Tony?"
Stephen’s expression darkened. "For fuck’s sake, I didn’t!"
"Alright, alright," Christine said, throwing her hands up. "I was just asking. Jeez."
Across the table, Wade Wilson was grinning with far too much mischief for someone whose team had come in fourth. "Hey, Stephen, how’s your ass feeling after that fall? Must be sore."
Stephen rolled his eyes. "Audacity to be this happy after losing and getting fourth place, Wilson—that’s commendable."
"Oh, thanks, Stephy. Also," Wade added in a sing-song tone, "I know how Novastra lost. Don’t make me tell everyone."
Wong raised an eyebrow. "What does he mean?"
"He’s crazy," Mordo said, brushing it off.
But Stephen suddenly stood. "I should go," he said quietly, gathering his tray and walking away.
The corridor was empty, silent except for the faint hum of distant conversation and clinking dishes. The light flickered slightly overhead, casting a golden hue on the marble floor.
As Stephen turned a corner near the old supply closet, a hand suddenly grabbed his arm and yanked him into the shadows. His heart leapt—
—but then immediately settled.
It was Tony.
"Hey," Tony said with a crooked smirk, still slightly bruised from the earlier scuffle with Hammer.
"Tony, what the hell are you doing?" Stephen whispered, trying to wriggle free.
"Checking on you. How are you feeling?"
Stephen crossed his arms, the tension in his shoulders evident. "I'm pissed off. I lost the game, and now everyone thinks I cheated by using a spell on you. Happy?"
Tony shook his head, his voice softer now. "Everyone knows you wouldn’t do that. You’re the most righteous guy in the whole school. Too righteous, sometimes."
Stephen narrowed his eyes, but before he could say more, Tony leaned in, lips brushing his cheek.
Stephen turned his face away. "Tony, stop. Someone will see us."
"Alright, then come to my room when everyone’s asleep," Tony whispered, brushing a finger down Stephen’s arm.
"No, I won’t," Stephen said, trying to keep his voice firm. But his resistance was already cracking.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway.
"Someone’s coming. Let me go," Stephen hissed, already pulling back.
"Promise me you’ll come tonight," Tony said urgently, holding onto his wrist.
Stephen rolled his eyes. "Fine, I will."
"Okay. Now give me a kiss, and then you can go," Tony teased, leaning in again with a boyish grin.
"Tony, please," Stephen groaned, exasperated but blushing.
"Alright, alright. Go. I’ll be waiting for you," Tony said, releasing him with a wink.
Stephen slipped out just as the footsteps neared. As he turned the corner into the main hall, he almost ran straight into Steve Rogers, the Dominis House head boy.
"Stephen?" Steve asked, frowning. "What are you doing here?"
"Nothing. I’m just going to my room," Stephen said quickly, cheeks flushed and heart hammering.
Steve watched him with a furrowed brow, eyes narrowing slightly as he disappeared into the shadows of the hallway.
Something wasn’t right—and Steve knew it.
The corridors of the Novastra wing had fallen silent, cloaked in the deep hush that only arrived after curfew. Only the distant buzz of the arcane lanterns and the soft creaks of the wooden walls disturbed the stillness. Inside his room, Tony Stark stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his hoodie and giving himself a final once-over. A spritz of his signature cologne lingered in the air, subtle and clean.
He glanced at the clock—11:59.
Right on time.
Just as he turned toward the door, it opened with a soft click.
"You’re early," Tony said with a smirk, expecting Stephen’s tall frame, messy hair, and the usual scowl that made his heart thrum.
Instead, Bruce Banner stepped inside.
Tony’s smile vanished instantly. "Bruce?"
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Who were you waiting for?"
Tony blinked. "No one. I knew you'd… come over. You know, to discuss the match," he lied, poorly.
Bruce’s eyes narrowed in quiet amusement. "You smell good."
Tony fumbled, tugging at his hoodie. "I… took a bath. What do you want?"
"Nothing urgent." Bruce walked further in and sat on the bed, watching Tony with that scientist’s gaze that always seemed to see more than it let on. "I just wanted to check on you. You were pretty upset after the match."
Tony waved it off. "I’m fine. We’re still in first place, technically."
"Yeah, you’re right," Bruce agreed, lying back casually on the bed like he had no intention of leaving soon.
Tony’s eyes flicked to the door, a mix of impatience and panic rising in his chest. Any second now.
"It’s late, Bruce. Don’t you want to sleep?" he asked.
Bruce shrugged. "Tomorrow’s Saturday. We haven’t hung out in a while. I figured, why not now?"
Tony forced a tight smile. "Yeah, but we can hang out tomorrow if you want."
"Sure," Bruce said, oblivious—or pretending to be. "Let’s get the group together. Steve, Thor, Nat, Clint. Just like the old times."
"Great idea," Tony mumbled, already mentally shoving him out the door.
Bruce chuckled. "Remember when we all hung out four months ago? Loki locked you and Stephen in the cloakroom? You were so pissed."
Of course Tony remembered. That had been the day. The day everything changed.
He and Stephen had fought, as usual—accusations flying, sparks crackling. But after an hour of being trapped with no magic and no way out, they had gotten too tired to argue. Tony had stared at Stephen’s flushed face, his lips, the anger in his stormy blue eyes—and something in him had snapped. Or perhaps clicked.
He’d kissed him.
Hard. Bold. Stupid.
He expected a punch. A rejection. Detention.
Instead, Stephen had kissed him back like he’d been holding back years of want.
That was the beginning.
"I do remember," Tony said quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips.
A shadow passed the frosted glass of the door.
Stephen.
Panic shot through him. Bruce was still here.
"Bruce, I’m dead tired from the championship," Tony said, faking a yawn. "I really need to sleep."
Bruce sat up, finally noticing the tension. "It’s barely midnight."
"Exactly. Championship. Energy. Gone," Tony said, now physically nudging Bruce toward the door.
Bruce groaned. "Alright, alright. I’m going. See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Definitely."
As soon as the door clicked shut, Tony pulled it open again and yanked Stephen inside.
"You’re insane," Stephen whispered, eyes sharp with irritation. "Is this your idea of a romantic night? Almost getting us caught?"
"Relax," Tony said, locking the door behind them. "It’s fine."
Stephen folded his arms. "You smell like pine and irresponsibility."
"I wanted to smell nice for you," Tony said with a cheeky grin.
Stephen shoved his chest lightly. "Get off, Stark."
"You’re mad at me?" Tony asked, voice softer now.
Stephen’s eyes narrowed. "Yes."
"For what? You think I cheated to win?"
"No. I think you think I’m fragile. Like I needed saving out there," Stephen bit out. "You should’ve gone for the win. Why didn’t you?"
Tony stepped closer. "Because you fell hard and weren’t getting up. I thought you were hurt. I was being a decent human. And I don’t regret it, even if it cost me the game,"
"You might not, but your friends do. Didn't you hear what Hammer said? That I put a spell on you? He even called me a bitch!" Stephen shouted.
"Hammer is an idiot," Tony said dismissively.
"He’s your friend," Stephen snapped.
"He’s not."
"Yes, he is. And you let him talk about me like that in front of everyone. Am I even your boyfriend?"
Tony didn’t answer. Not with words.
He closed the distance between them and kissed Stephen hard—hands cradling his jaw, pouring in all the apology, all the ache, all the I missed you he didn’t know how to say.
Stephen pushed him back, breathless.
"We always fight," he muttered.
"Yeah. But we also make up."
Stephen opened his mouth—probably to argue—but Tony beat him to it.
"Did you see Hammer after he said that?"
Stephen paused. "...No?"
Tony smirked. "Broken nose. Right in the middle of the common room."
Stephen’s eyes widened in disbelief. "You punched him?"
"No one gets to talk about my boyfriend like that," Tony said, voice low and possessive.
Stephen chuckled, against his will, against Tony’s chest. "You’re ridiculous."
"And you love it."
"So… are we going to argue all night, or—"
Tony didn’t wait for him to finish.
He scooped Stephen up with a flourish, dropped him on the bed, and leaned over him with a wolfish grin. "Let’s skip to the best part."
Stephen rolled his eyes, blushing. "Don’t be loud. The walls are thin."
Tony smirked. "You be quiet. I’m just a victim here."
Stephen giggled.
Later.
The moonlight fell in soft slants across the room. Tony lay behind Stephen, arm draped around his waist, fingers absently twirling strands of dark hair.
"What are you thinking about?" Tony whispered against his neck.
Stephen was quiet for a moment. "Prom."
Tony stiffened.
"Did someone ask you?"
"Yeah. Plenty," Stephen said casually, fingers brushing the bedsheet.
Tony’s chest tightened. "And… who are you going with?"
"I want to go with you," Stephen said softly.
Tony sighed. He pressed a kiss to Stephen’s shoulder. "You know we can’t."
"This rivalry is so stupid," Stephen muttered. "We’re not our houses. We’re us."
"I know," Tony said, his voice low. "But if people found out…"
Stephen sat up, the warmth of the moment cracking. "I should go."
Tony reached for his wrist. "Stay. Please."
Stephen looked down at him—eyes torn between longing and reality. Then he gently pulled his hand free.
"You know we can’t," he repeated Tony’s own words, barely a whisper.
He dressed quickly, quietly, and slipped out the door.
Tony stared at the ceiling.
He wanted to shout it to the world.
Stephen Strange is mine.
But he couldn’t. Not yet.
Because of a legacy he didn’t believe in.
Because of a rivalry he didn’t choose.
He pulled the blanket closer around him. Stephen’s scent still clung to his pillow—clean, magical, like eucalyptus and lightning storms.
Tony closed his eyes and breathed it in.
Maybe one day.
But tonight, this had to be enough.