Chapter 1: When the World Changed
The world seemed bigger and quieter than Nathaniel Stark had ever known it. The house that used to echo with laughter and footsteps now felt hollow. At three years old, Nate wasn't supposed to notice these things, but he did. He noticed that yesterday felt different from today because Mom and Dad weren't there anymore. They were just... gone.
His small hands pressed against the smooth surface of the dining table, the cool wood solid beneath his fingertips. He stood on his tiptoes, trying to peek over the edge, but the polished surface was higher than his eyes. Around him, men and women in dark clothes whispered in hushed voices, their faces heavy with sadness and confusion. Neither of them looked at him directly.
Only Tony did.
Tony Stark. Big brother. Seventeen years old but looking as tired as a man twice his age.
Tony's dark eyes met Nate's for a brief moment, filled with a warmth that made Nate's heart flutter. Tony offered a small, crooked smile — the kind of smile that meant, "I'm here kiddo. You're not alone."
Nate tried to smile back, though his lips trembled slightly. He wanted to be brave, like Tony. But the truth was, he was scared. Scared of a silent house. Scared of the empty rooms where he used to hear his parents' voices. Scared of the way Tony looked at him, full of unspoken worry that even a kid could feel.
As the adults shuffled around, Nate's gaze drifted to the empty chair at the head of the table. The chair where his father, Howard Stark, used to sit. He remembered Howard's booming laugh, the way his fingers always smelled slightly of oil and metal, the gentle way he would pick Nate up and spin him around until he was dizzy with joy.
Nate's eyes welled with tears, though he blinked hard to keep them from falling. His little hands clenched into fists, gripping the edge of the table as if it could anchor him to the world.
From across the room, Tony stepped over and crouched down beside him. "Hey, little guy," he said softly, voice rough from exhaustion. He reached out a hand and brushed Nate's hair back off his forehead. "This... this sucks. But we're gonna get through it. Together."
Nate looked up at Tony, his eyes wide and uncertain. "Together," he whispered back, repeating the word like a promise.
Tony smiled again, this time a bit more genuine, and pulled Nate into a quick hug. "Yeah, together."
That evening, the house was dark and still. The usual glow from the big windows that looked out over the city was gone, replaced by shadows that clung to the corners like old memories. Nate sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor of the vast garage, clutching a small plastic car in his tiny hands. The toy was bright red, chipped around the edges from being tossed and dropped, but it was his favorite.
He set the car on the floor and pushed it gently, watching it roll smoothly along the cool surface. To him, it looked like it was speeding down a racetrack, honking its imaginary horn at other invisible racers. He giggled softly, the sound echoing strangely in the still air.
The garage smelled like oil and gasoline, familiar and comforting in a way no other scent was. Nate loved the garage. It was where his dad used to tinker with things — big engines, shiny chrome parts, and all sorts of mechanical wonders Nate didn't fully understand yet. But that didn't matter. What mattered was the feeling of being close to his father's world, even if Howard wasn't there.
The door creaked open, and Nate turned to see Tony entering, hands shoved deep into his blazer pockets, a tired grin on his face.
"You and your little car, huh?" Tony said, crouching down beside him. "You know, Dad would've been proud. Probably would've taken you for a ride in one of his old classics."
Nate's eyes sparkled. "Dad liked fast cars?" His voice was small but bright with curiosity.
Tony chuckled quietly. "Used to be obsessed with them. Old muscle cars — Mustangs, Dodges, Chargers. Loud, powerful, and built like tanks." He paused, watching Nate roll the toy car again. "And you're already starting to take after him."
The boy grinned up at his brother. "I wanna learn to fix cars. Make them go really fast."
Tony smiled wider, but there was something weighing on his face. "Just remember, it's not all about speed or noise. Sometimes, it's how you handle the ride."
Nate nodded solemnly, processing the advice. Even though he didn't fully understand it yet, the weight of grown-up words settled around him like a soft blanket.
Tony hesitated, then said in a quieter tone, "You know, you don't have to be just like me. You can be your own kind of Stark."
Nate looked at Tony with wide eyes, then nodded so eagerly he almost toppled over. "I'll be the best car maker," he said firmly.
Tony raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like a challenge. Spoken like a true Stark."
And with that, the garage filled with the first real sound of laughter since the house had gone silent.
Sleep didn't come easy that night. Nate lay curled tight in his bed, gripping a worn blanket close, the echoes of the day still buzzing in his small mind. His thoughts wandered to the picture resting on his bedside table — a photo of Howard Stark with a baby Nate cradled in his arms, smiling bright and proud. That smile was a promise Nate intended to keep.
Even though he was small. Even though the world felt too big and too sad right now.
He might only be three, but he was already learning what it meant to be brave. To hold on tight to family, to legacy, and to hope.
Tomorrow, he thought as his eyelids grew heavy, tomorrow, I'm going to be stronger. The world better be ready.
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Drop some Power Stones
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