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The battlefield was a mess of smoke and fire, acrid air burning Stephen’s throat as he stumbled through rubble. His wards flickered before dispersing fully, his lungs screamed for air—but none of that mattered when he saw Tony.
He was crumpled against the shattered remains of a wall, chest plate half-melted, blood seeping through the armor.
Stephen dropped to his knees beside him. His hands moved automatically, pressing against the wound, cataloguing vitals. Breath shallow. Heart weak. Too much blood lost.
He didn’t even need to use his magic. His medical instincts screamed it before his mind could accept it: Tony Stark was dying.
“No, no, no—” His voice broke. He pressed harder, drew sigils in the air with trembling fingers, tried to weave life where the body was failing. The magic flickered, unstable, unwilling to bend to his desperation.
Tony’s eyelids fluttered. “Doc…” His mouth curved into the faintest, cruelest of smiles. “Guess… fate’s cashing in.”
Stephen’s throat locked. The prophecy. His hands shook harder. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say that to me.”
The wound was fatal. His body too frail to handle it. Strange knew it, even if he still wasn't able to believe it.
The battlefield dissolved around him. His astral form tore upward, shoving past planes until he was kneeling before a presence that filled the void like thunder, a god whose name burned to even think.
“I’ll bargain,” Stephen rasped. His hands shook, but his voice held steady. “Take anything. Everything. Just—don’t take him.”
The god tilted its head, amused by the arrogance, the audacity. "Anything?"
"Anything," Stephen repeated. "My life. My soul. My—"
"Not your death," the god purred. "Your eternity."
Stephen faltered.
"He will live for now. You will live forever. Do we have a deal?"
The weight of it sank into him—immortality, eternal breath, endless years. Watching everyone he loved wither, while he endured.
But Tony’s heartbeat was faltering, slipping from him even now.
Stephen’s jaw locked. “Do it.”
As he accepted, his chest seized, then burned with new, alien permanence.
When his eyes snapped open, he was back in his body, the battlefield still chaos—but Tony’s chest rose again. Weak, fragile, but alive.
Stephen collapsed forward, head falling onto Tony's shoulder. His hands were shaking, tears he hadn’t realized falling. Tony blinked at him, dazed, alive.
“You… did something,” Tony whispered.
Stephen swallowed hard, brushing bloody hair from his forehead. “I saved you.”
Tony gave a small, bewildered laugh. “Course you did.”
"I told you I would."
Stephen didn't tell him what it cost. He knows what he'd say, knows he'd blame himself for the fate Stephen chose.
He'll tell him later.
For now, he just held him close, anchoring himself in the sound of the man's breath.
Tony's alive.