Chapter Text
People thought that because he was a billionaire, he never got into trouble (of the dangerous kind at least) or experienced anything less than a wonderful, spoiled childhood. That was probably why everyone doubted his ability to handle being Iron Man.
But that wasn't the case.
He got into a lot of trouble--mostly because his mother was too busy to set and enforce any boundaries and his father just plain old didn't care about him, much less being involved in raising him. Which is why he faced his first truly serious, life-threatening situation when he was barely 11.
"And I call upon the spirits, to bind them to me--"
"Just what do you think you are doing, Mister Stark?" Tony jumped at the guy who sounded like Thunder personified--and looked like it too--his heart pounding. It was a stupid "spell." It wasn't supposed to really work. Magic wasn't real. But it was the only thing that could explain how this guy appeared out of nowhere.
"I, uh--" He coughed and straightened up. He learned early on not to show his emotions--to bury them so deep within him that the pain of having a warm but estranged mother and perpetually disappointed father no longer hurt as much; so, even if he was afraid, he wasn't going to show fear to this spirit of thunder or whatever it is. "Mister Stark is my father. My name's Tony."
His spirit smirked a little, which looked completely out of place on his face, but quickly crossed his arms and returned to looking stern. "You did not answer my question, Tony."
He stuck his nose up in the air like the little snot he was. "None of your business and I wouldn't tell ya, anyway."
The invader leaned closer with a severe frown. He felt his knees start to shake. "If you do not cease your actions, not only will you bring wrathful sprites upon you looking to harm your person, but I shall have to take matters into my own hands--which shall not be pleasant. You have my word."
"Whatever," he grumbled. He never had a reason to pay any attention to anything an adult said--especially nonsense like that--which easily cleared what intimidation the man had held over him. "Spirits of the realm, I call you to my cause. I invoke them, I command thee in my name. Come to me, I bind you to me!"
He saw his visitor shake his head and lean quite comfortably against the wall out of the corner of his eye, but do nothing more than that. So much for his taking matters into his own hands. Figures.
Except that he actually turned out to be right.
A full moment after the words left his mouth, he shuddered. The room got icier and filled with faint laughter that raised the hair on his arms. But he didn't actually see any changes nor anything to explain what he was experiencing scientifically. He bit his lip at the spookiness. Magic wasn't real, ghosts weren't real. There was nothing--
"Well, well, well..." Something chuckled in a gravelly voice, scraping his cheeks with extremely sharp and jagged nails. He got the impression of a being that was also very unkempt in general. Tony gasped and slapped a hand to his now stinging and burning cheek. When he pulled it back to check, he had blood on his hand. He tried not to whimper. This was very real and very dangerous and he was very scared right now.
"You certainly are the prettiest and youngest of all the stupid punks who try to use us for their own gain. We will delight in tearing you apart, right boys?" The sudden multiple cheers of consent and high cackling were not comforting at all.
"Please--" He cried out, trembling, before he could help himself. He didn't even know if it was a plea for help from his first visitor or a cry for mercy. Either way, it was a reversal of himself only moments ago. There was not an inch of him that could summon the persona of a confident and spunky young boy.
"Oh, would you look at this! The little child doesn't want to die. Well, in that case, let's be gentle with him. Just take a nip here--" Teeth latched into his shoulders, sinking deeply, and he screamed.
"Make a little mark there--" Something ripped apart his pant legs at the seam and made five red blots just above his ankle. It didn't hurt as much as freak him out. Nothing was more terrifying than dealing with something he couldn't see or touch or even know what it actually was, after all.
"And maybe just a teeny cut right under the chin to let out all that delicious blood inside your tiny body..."
"No, wait! P-Please, don't kill me, I don't want to die!" He broke down, sobbing as he felt a hand close around his neck and move it against his will to expose the underside of his neck. "Please, help me, please!"
"Really, what am I going to do with you, Tony..." His thunder spirit--friend?--finally said, snapping his fingers. He gasped, bent over, coughing for several moments under his savior's watch without the threat of that ghostly hand lingering any more. The room seemed to suddenly warm up again, too.
"I--I'm sorry," he mumbled to the ground.
"No, child. I don't think you are quite yet." He rumbled, petting his hair. Tony hated how nice it felt. "I warned you, and you did not listen to me. For that, you must be punished."
"What!" He exclaimed, affronted. "But I already said I'm--" He gave a little yelp as he was turned over on the strange visitor's knee. He started kicking and squirming vainly to buck his firm hold. "You can't do this to me, I'm a Stark and you're not my father! I'll-I'll have you arrested or something!"
The man chuckled. "There is nothing you can do to harm me. And, though I am not your father, it is clear you are in need of the guidance of one and that I am. Now, count for me."
"O-one," he said with a faint wince as he felt a hand make contact with his behind, not really believing that this was happening. "Two...three--ah, stop, it hurts! Please, I promise I'll listen next time, just stop." He cried, trying desperately--futility--to keep his tears in his eyes as he twisted around to face his punisher. The hand that was in the air ready to fall did descend on his sore bum, but with a softer landing. He still couldn't help his flinch.
Fingers curled around his chin tight, but Tony found comfort in them and relaxed. "I am afraid, little Stark, you have no control in the matter; you must simply suck it up, as they say, and take your punishment." He paused and then said with a pointed look, "Of course, your little interruption means we must start over."
Tony half-groaned, half-sighed, resigned to his fate as he wiped his face dry. "One," he counted out as the smacks came, bravely facing them with only a faint trembling and wince when they landed. "Two...three...four..."
For a great deal after that, Tony was more courteous and pliant to orders from his elders. The perfect example of a well-bred son to the shocked murmurs of those who knew him from before his change. But, like anything with Stark involved, it didn't last long. Even as an adult, he thrived on defying and mocking his superiors--few that they were--and all forms of law and authority. Except that there was now a clear boundary he had drawn for himself--especially around anything related to "magic"--and he always later apologized to the people he did respect and care about when he was sober again.