Sometimes she watches Sherlock cook.
Sometimes she watches Tony forge. (Nnnnf.)
This involves taking a lot of measurements.
And after that, it involves a lot of forging.
Bella is so cooperative.
The armour that takes shape is very, very pretty. At Bella's request, it has witchable sleeves, which means loose cloth from elbow to wrist; after some consultation, Tony added a pair of short fingerless gloves. From shoulder to elbow, it's the same surprisingly comfortable metal scales as the rest of the armour, each one crafted with loving attention.
A long black cape hangs from the suit's shoulders. Tony is adamant about the cape. The cape, she says, is absolutely necessary.
She works her magic into each piece as she makes it, but it's hard to tell which parts are supposed to do what - even with extensive magical analysis - until the entire thing is finally assembled.
All together it seems made of grace and light, not leather and steel. Every scale, every rivet says dance with me. It weighs half as much as Sherlock's self-deploying plate mail, and it's twice as magical, glittering with protection and enhancement and sometimes just raw love.
And the cape?
The cape is for flying.
She then enchants the carpet because it will still be handy for journeys with more than one party involved.
As soon as Tony is done with Bella's, she starts working on one for herself. She usually doesn't wear her own armour, but come on, who doesn't want to fly?
Bella saturates herself on flying to the point where she can stand to do it only a little every day, and she gets back to work. She visits the wizards twice a week to give the women witching lessons and get wizarding lessons (alongside small wizard children). She studies the Skyvault. She determines that no one has already tackled her minor technical issue and that she will need to do the groundwork herself. She flies to her house, and collects Cricket and her door with most of her rooms enchanted into it, and she sets up the garden to go dormant. She tells all her friends she's getting married. She installs her cat and her door in the palace.
And she gets to know her fiancée.
Her fiancée is continually delighted by everything she does!
And that's adorable and Sherlock's adorable and Bella is quite falling in love with her, which is convenient, since they are engaged.
Yes, it's lovely how that works out, isn't it.
Bella decides to notify her of this development eventually, one evening when they are all snuggled up and Cricket has absented himself (this feature being essential, as he would be sure to comment if present).
"I'm falling in love with you," Bella announces comfortably. "I will probably be properly there in less than a week."
"That is good to know," says Sherlock.
"I thought it would be. That is why I told you." Snuggle snuggle.
So are kisses!
Okay, maybe kisses only sometimes. But this time is one of those times!
This is an excellent time for kisses.
So, Tony has been having some trouble with her flying armour.
She doesn't want it to come with a cape - she doesn't know why, she just doesn't feel capey. And she cannot for the life of her figure out how to get it to work without a cape.
So she starts going for walks, watching birds and thinking about air and metal. She sticks to the deep woods, when she remembers; they're as safe as it gets, for a member of the royal family who knows to be polite and friendly and never promise anything and always ask a squirrel.
She doesn't always remember.
And one afternoon, she doesn't come back from her walk.
"Hey," says Bella, wandering into the kitchen where Sherlock is fixing dinner, "I haven't seen Tony all day, where is she?"
"Walking, ostensibly. I would expect her to be back by now, however."
"Yeah, she's usually back well before dinner." Bella chews her lip. "...The room with all the enchanted windows is in that door I brought, I could go try to check on her."
"Do that, then."
She comes back to the kitchen with no visible wounds, but a few streaks of blood on her face. "My window exploded. Something happened."
Sherlock closes her eyes for a few seconds.
"An explosion rather than search failure narrows it down, but not in a good way," mutters Bella, starting to pace.