Chapter Text
“This is possibly the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my entire life.” With a dramatic groan, Peter threw himself down onto his mattress like a ragdoll, limbs sprawled out far enough that he could almost touch all the corners of his enormous four-poster bed. “And I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve had some pretty bad ones myself.”
“At least you’re acknowledgin’ it. And maybe ol’ Ego’s doing you a favor. Not like any girl’s gonna wanna marry you of her own free will,” Yondu teased. He leaned over Peter’s motionless form and gently poked him in the gut with the back end of his yaka arrow. “Quit whinin’, boy, you don’t even know what she’s like yet.”
“It don’t matter what she’s like,” Peter mumbled. His voice was muffled by the mountain of gold-fringed pillows he was currently face-planted in. Ego sure did have an affinity for decorating every square inch of everything - ever - in gold. Even Peter wasn’t this ostentatious. “She could be the most amazing woman in the entire galaxy, and I’d still hate this. I mean, what is this, the medieval ages? Do I have to joust some other dudes to win her hand or somethin’? Because from what I’ve heard about her, I think she’d rather kick my ass instead.”
“I understand just about none of what came outta your mouth just now.” Yondu sat at the foot of the bed, resting a hand on Peter’s ankle in sympathy, then immediately regretting it when he noticed Peter was entirely barefoot. “But you gotta suck it up, Quill. You fight your daddy on this, he gonna string you up like vermin, get you with that ‘light’ of his. Don’t make it worse for yourself.”
Peter turned slowly, propping himself up on his elbow. “D’you...do you think he’d make Mantis do it instead if I didn’t?” He sat up very suddenly, wrapping his arms around his knees, staring off listlessly into the distance. All he could see was his sweet, upbeat little sister, being forced into something she wouldn’t be able to escape, all because he decided to be a little selfish. No, he couldn’t afford to let that happen. Not to her. “Crap. I really do have to do this, don’t I?”
“If you’re asking me as your advisor, I’m telling ya, marrying this girl means an alliance with the Titans, and that’s a good thing. Get some of the most powerful forces in the entire galaxy on our side.” Yondu let out a slow exhale, shooting Peter a rueful smile. “If you’re asking me as your friend, I’m tellin’ you, now’s not the time to argue. Pick your battles, boy. In due time, we’ll be able to get you offa this cursed planet for good.” He grinned wider in what Peter suspected was meant to be in reassurance - though his gold teeth were only adding to the garish decor of Peter’s quarters - before standing and striding over to the door. As he was leaving, he turned to call, “Your girl’s gonna be here in two days, alright? So buck up! Maybe she’ll be more interesting than ya think.”
“Do you know why I’ve called you here, Gamora?”
Her dark eyes fixated on the back of the makeshift throne, zeroed in on the crevice by the crease of his elbow, a sight she had become so accustomed to that it was practically burned into her eyelids. “No, Father. Do enlighten me.”
“You watch your tone with me, girl, or you’ll force my hand.” The throne slowly began to rotate, the shadows moving across Thanos’s face to partially conceal the near-permanent scowl he was currently sporting. She flinched a little at the sight of the Infinity Gauntlet, fingers tapping idly on the armrest as if it were nothing more than a common glove. “It has been a long time coming, but we have finally made an agreement with the Celestials. You will be descending upon Ego in two days.”
“And what task do you have for me this time? And who will be accompanying me? My last job under Ronan did not end so well, through no fault of my own,” she added, folding her hands neatly behind her back, fingers intertwined. She hoped he couldn’t detect the way they were trembling. Shoulders back, chin up, she mentally reminded herself, as Thanos finally came into full view.
“Ronan was unworthy of calling himself an accomplice of mine. A subordinate, maybe. Vermin, more like. I had him taken care of,” he replied, grinning rather maniacally, though his eyes remained as coldly emotionless as ever. “Your task, Gamora, is to wed the Celestial prince.”
Gamora blinked. She wasn’t sure how else to respond. Had she fallen through some sort of wormhole and not noticed? Stepped into an alternate dimension, perhaps? “I apologize, Father, but I believe I’ve misheard you,” she said slowly. “You want me to what?”
“Ego believes we have the completed Infinity Gauntlet, and I’m not about to correct him,” Thanos continued as if he hadn’t heard her. He held up his arm, turning his wrist slowly as if to admire the artifact, despite the fact it was currently empty. “And his Celestial abilities...they intrigue me. But we have never been able to come to terms until now, when we agreed on your marriage to his son. His only son, with Celestial abilities of his own, I might add. We’ll work together in the beginning, of course, so I can observe what he can do and how to dismantle him. Then, you and Nebula will slaughter Ego, and force the son to use his powers for our means.”
“There must be another way to do this,” Gamora protested, abandoning all pretense of her posture, letting her hands fall to her sides. “Why marriage? How could a wedding possibly benefit us? Am I not meant for more than this, Father? This seems below me...below everything you have prepared me for.”
“You think so little of marriage, do you?” Thanos sneered, leaning forward on his elbows, eyes narrowed as he stared down at her. For a moment, she felt like a small child again, thoroughly chastised for not being quick or clever enough. “This marriage is for political gain, for trust. We have to be smart about this. Not everything can be won by force, but by cleverness. It’s time you learned that. Your attitude is abhorrent, Gamora. And you will go to Ego in two days' time.”
“And if I don’t?” She folded her arms across her chest, staring up at him, stance defiant. He only chuckled in response.
“Then I will send Nebula in your place.” With that, he turned away from her, but not before giving her one last horrendously unsettling smirk.
Peter was half-sprawled across his seat in the palace’s throne room, one leg hooked up over the armrest, his elbow on his knee, using his fist to prop up his head. He had been sitting here for at least two hours, and was irreversibly, undeniably, dreadfully bored.
“I see Dad couldn’t be bothered to show up,” he grumbled, looking over to Yondu. He immediately felt bad for complaining - at least he was sitting down. Yondu, as always, was standing by his side, though he had abandoned proper stance long ago, leaning against the throne so casually one would think it was his.
“You know he don’t care that much about all this business. He expects you to be the one to receive your future wife,” Yondu shrugged. “And it ain’t like her daddy’s coming with, so why should he hafta be here?”
“Because this is boring as hell!” Peter exclaimed a little too loudly, his voice echoing off the walls and ceilings of the enormous chamber. He shrunk a little in his seat at the sound. “I almost want Thanos to show up at this point. Can’t make things any worse, right?”
“Please, Peter.” Mantis reached for him from her throne, delicately setting her hand down on his forearm, wrapping her fingers around him and squeezing. “Be patient. I believe I can already sense their presence. There is much emotional turmoil in the air, something I do not usually feel.”
“What do you mean, ‘they’? I thought it was just her. And no one’s even told me her name yet, by the way,” Peter added.
“She brought an entourage of her own, of course,” Yondu said, baffled at Peter’s ignorance. “And hell, I don’t even know her name. Ego didn’t tell me shit, and I’m not about to start asking. She’ll introduce herself, I’m sure.”
As if on cue, the giant doors of the throne room swung open to reveal, to Peter’s surprise, just two young women, entirely alone aside from being escorted in by Kraglin, the palace’s head of the guard. He quickly sat up in his seat, leaning forward to get a better look as they began striding towards him.
Peter had, of course, heard about the Titans before. They weren’t so much a kingdom in the traditional sense as they were a dictator-led regime, what with all their leader’s adoptive children (the loose definition of ‘adopted’, anyway) being suited more for the battlefield than for any castle. So, he wasn’t surprised to see both women were decked out in full armor from head to toe, with leather padding at their shoulders, elbows, and knees, complete with hooded duster capes and masks that obscured the entire lower half of their faces. They were both relatively tall, at least six feet in height in their combat boots, an unparalleled fierceness in their dark eyes as they approached the elevated platform.
The herald, the poor brave soul, quickly stepped in front of them before they could get too close, and loudly announced, “Prince Peter and Princess Mantis, of the Celestial throne.” Peter couldn’t help but cringe at the descriptor - he hated hearing it, every single time, without fail. It might have sounded cool the first time he had been addressed in such a manner, when he was eight and the idea of being a prince had excited him to no end, but now it just felt oddly presumptuous, and moreover, undeserving.
“Your highnesses,” Peter said as calmly as he could, though inside, his heart was racing with anticipation. He bowed his head in grace. “Forgive the informality - we don’t usually have guests. And by usually, I mean never. So, uh. Hi.” He could practically hear Yondu face-palming beside him. “Um, introduce yourselves. Please.”
The women exchanged dubious looks, carrying out an astonishingly long wordless conversation with just their eyes to the point of making Peter squirm, until they finally turned back towards Peter and Mantis, their gaze considering. In near-perfect synchronicity, they pushed their hoods away and pulled their masks down around their necks, fully revealing their faces. The green-skinned girl took another step forward, her dark ponytail swinging slightly as she did. “My name is Gamora, daughter of Thanos, heir to the Titan throne, and your supposed future wife.” Her lip curled in distaste at the last one.
“Are you technically a princess?” Peter asked before he could stop himself. Mantis elbowed him in warning.
“That may be part of my title, but I am no princess,” she retorted, a hint of a snarl in her voice. She gestured at the other girl, who looked equally as irritable, sporting a rather impressive scowl. “This is my sister, Nebula.” Nebula grunted in what Peter supposed was meant to be a greeting.
“Hello!” Mantis said as cheerfully as she could muster, though even she looked hesitant about the whole ordeal. It didn’t help that both Gamora and Nebula were resting their free hand over the weapons holstered at their hips - Gamora appeared to have a sword, while Nebula had a pair of electrified blades. Nebula in particular looked like she was itching to use them. “Welcome to the planet Ego. Our father is a bit busy at the moment, as he is tending to some business off-planet, but I am sure we can work out all the details of this arrangement by ourselves.”
“This is a farce,” Nebula snapped very suddenly. “I’ve seen black market dealings more tightly run than this sham of a kingdom. What makes you so special?”
In lieu of answering, a rumble began rippling through the ground, causing Gamora and Nebula to tip precariously, stumbling over their own feet as they yanked out their weapons. A beam of white light shot out of the floor beneath them, spinning and twirling like a ballerina.
“I believe this is what you wanted to see, isn’t it? The Celestial power? So here. I bring you a peace offering,” Peter said patiently.
The beam of light came to a stop a few feet in front of the girls, flipping over to reveal two beautifully carved marble blades, the handles turned towards them. Cautiously, Gamora took a hesitant step forward before picking one up, surprised to find it quite light despite its notoriously heavy substance. She glanced back at Nebula, who also looked unusually aghast at the display.
“What is this really made of?” Gamora said suspiciously, looking up at Peter.
He chuckled, finally getting to his feet and making his way down the steps of the elevated platform. As he did, she could finally get a better look at his face - she knew nothing about him aside from his name, knew he possessed the Celestial genes of his father. Peter appeared to be younger than she initially thought - she’d heard all sorts of unappetizing stories about women even younger than she was getting married off to men at least twice their age - but he appeared to be no older than nineteen or twenty at the very most, like herself. He was handsome, she supposed, tall and broad, artfully disheveled with his haphazardly wind-blown hair and roguish, yet perfectly sculpted stubble. He was wearing a deep red, floor-sweeping leather cape over what looked to be otherwise normal clothes - a snug-fitting long-sleeved shirt and dark jeans - as if he had no inclination to keep up the appearances required of his title. He was unlike any other royalty she had ever seen, though admittedly, she wasn’t sure what she had been expecting to begin with.
“Some sort of compound I came up with myself. I dunno the science behind it, but it’s nice, right?” he grinned. The warmth of his voice was a little unsettling. “So. Let’s cut the crap about me sitting up there while you guys stand down here. I feel like I’m literally looking down on you guys. Dinner? You hungry?”
“As long as one of your people taste-test each of our dishes in front of us to prove its lack of poison,” Gamora returned, eyes narrowing, though he couldn’t help but notice her tucking the marble blade into her belt alongside the plethora of other weapons she had stowed with her. “This is an arrangement of professionalism. Not friendship. So lead the way.”
Peter and Mantis were somewhat surprised when Gamora and Nebula swept into the dining hall accompanied by three other figures they hadn’t seen before - an incredibly muscular man (perhaps too muscular, in Peter’s opinion) with swirling red tattoos all over his greenish-grey skin, a creature that looked to be an exact replica of a Terran raccoon, and a...tree?
“Drax and Groot lead our security detail, not that we need one,” Gamora smirked in response to Peter’s confused glance. “Rocket is our...aide. That’s his official title, at least. He mostly helps with our weaponry and tech. Father doesn’t know he’s here with us, however. It’s best he doesn’t know at all.”
“Ri-i-ight.” Peter decided it was best not to ask any more questions, instead gesturing for everyone to take a seat. He sort of hated the dining hall - like the rest of Ego’s palace, it consisted of glittering gold walls and floors, floor-to-ceiling curving windows, towering arches and columns covered in ornate patterns, and yet the very barest of furniture - just the excessively long table, enough chairs to seat fifty quite comfortably, and a few potted alien plants in the corners. They almost never ate here, considering how over-the-top it all was, but after Nebula’s biting remark, he wanted to at least try to provide some hospitality, or more accurately, show off just a little bit. His pride was at stake here, after all. “Would you like to discuss the terms of our, uh, arrangement over dinner, or would you rather leave it for another time?”
“Leaving it for another time requires us to remain in each other’s presence for longer than we need to.” Gamora pursed her lips. “Does that sound ideal to you?”
He frowned, offended. “Hey, I’m not a huge fan of this, either, but you don’t have to be hostile. If we wanna make this work, we gotta act like adults.”
“You really are unlike any other regime we’ve ever come across,” Gamora snorted. “The informality of both your reception and your speech are hardly good starting points for negotiations.”
Before Peter could open his mouth with what he was sure to be a clever comeback, the servants entered with trays of appetizers, setting them down delicately in front of each person and removing the cloches with a flourish. To his surprise, the guests appeared truly impressed for the first time, oddly fixated on the food for all of five seconds before they started digging in with great enthusiasm. “I dunno what this is, but it’s way better than what they served on Sanctuary,” Rocket said between bites, practically letting it spill out of his mouth as he spoke. Mantis wrinkled her nose a little in disgust.
“All our food is grown here,” Peter replied, smiling a little uncertainly. He was still unused to looking at Rocket and Groot especially. Having encountered many a strange alien every now and then, it was odd to see creatures that strongly resembled Terran biology. It made him ache for a brief moment in memory of his home planet.
They were mostly silent throughout the appetizer, something Peter and Mantis found uneasy. They usually ate alone together in one of the smaller sitting rooms whenever Ego wasn’t home, chatting excitedly about their days. Peter especially liked talking, was even considered to be relatively good at it. As far as his people were concerned, it was made him a more personable leader, made them feel like they were talking to a friend instead of their ruler.
By the time they got to the main course, Peter finally spoke again, as he could stand the quiet no longer. “What’s it like, being a Titan?” He glanced around at the others, hoping that one of them, any of them, would reply. The tree didn’t seem too talkative - he had enthusiastically introduced himself a few times when they had first walked in, but since then had just been sitting in silence, a pleasant (if a little vacant) smile on his face. Nebula hadn’t said a word since she yelled at him earlier, and Drax seemed content on stuffing his face with as much food as possible in the shortest amount of time.
“Does it have bearing on our arrangement?” Gamora returned easily.
“Well...no. I was just making conversation.” His eyes narrowed a little. Was she really that disinterested in talking about anything other than their so-called marriage? It was like pulling teeth with her.
Twisting her mouth in displeasure once more, Gamora slammed her fork and knife down on the table. “Fine. You really want to know what it’s like, being a leader of Titan? Nebula and I were taken from our homes as children, raised to be weapons of mass destruction. We were taught how to kill another being in a hundred different ways by the age of ten, have slaughtered both criminals and innocents by the dozens on never-ending paths of terror. Our beds are rock, and our insides are steel. We are no princesses, like your sister here. We are warriors.” Gamora got to her feet, her chair sliding abruptly across the floor with an uncomfortable screech, and promptly stormed out, her hair and her cape swishing behind her.
“Well done,” Nebula said sarcastically after a moment of stunned silence. “You really are as useless as you look.” She stood as if to go after her sister, but Mantis got there first, holding out a hand towards Nebula in warning.
“I will take care of it,” she said, her voice low. For the first time since the Titans’ arrival, her antennae began to glow, bending towards Nebula in a hypnotizing dance. Slowly, in a dream-like state, Nebula sank back down into her chair, her usually narrowed dark eyes now blown wide with fear. “Do not leave this room.”
Once Mantis had left the room in pursuit of Gamora, Nebula shook herself a little, the fog lifting from her head. “What was that?” she hissed. “What did she do to me?”
“Don’t underestimate my sister,” Peter said, tilting his chin somewhat triumphantly. “Mantis is an empath. I’m sorry it had to come to that - she never uses her powers without permission - but we don’t exactly condone violence here. Dad doesn’t want us to ruin the lovely decor.”
A few awkward minutes later, with everyone banging their cutlery and cups a little louder to cover for the silence, Mantis returned with Gamora in tow, who also looked just as abashed as her sister had. “I realize my outburst was unhelpful in continuing our discussion,” she said, returning to her seat. “If we are truly to carry out this...arrangement of our respective fathers, then we need to at least know the very basics about each other. So please, tell me about yourself and your kingdom.”
Smiling easily, it was now Peter’s turn to put his fork down. “Well, for starters, it’s not really a kingdom? This planet is Ego himself. The humanoid form you’ll be meeting is more of an avatar, a physical body he uses to communicate with people. He used to be entirely alone out here until he found Mantis when she was a baby, orphaned on her homeworld. Me, I was born on Terra. I lived with my mom until I was eight, didn’t even know my dad wasn’t human. She...died, of cancer, and Dad sent Yondu to pick me up and bring me here. After he convinced me to stay, I managed to convince him it would be easier to maintain the planet and his creations if there were people living here, doing some honest work. So we looked for people like Mantis who had been lost, looking for purpose. Ever since then, the place has really become its own. We have a population of two billion people from all over the galaxy. They aren’t really Celestials - the only living Celestials, as far as we know, are me and Dad - but we kinda call them that because there really isn’t another name to give ‘em.”
“It appeared quite vacant when we first arrived,” Gamora commented thoughtfully. The tightness in her voice was fading away in favor of curiosity. “This territory...is it only for your family?”
“Yes,” Mantis said, nodding enthusiastically. She, too, had lost the hardness in her eyes from confronting Nebula earlier. “The only civilians allowed in this area are those who work in the palace.”
“And what of their families?” Gamora prompted. “They must live quite far away from here, then.”
Peter and Mantis exchanged nervous looks. “Most of them don’t really...have family,” Peter said tentatively. “The ones who work here are usually the ones who have already lost their families. We find that giving them work renews their outlook on life, despite the fact that their loved ones are gone.” Drax twitched so suddenly that Peter was almost certain he had imagined it. “Many of them manage to find new families in those they work with - friends, significant others. And if they have children, they’re allowed to live in their parents’ quarters in the palace. I know we might seem disorganized, but I promise, it’s just because we haven’t been around for very long. We don’t have the centuries of history that other kingdoms have, but we kinda have an idea of what worked and what didn’t by observing others.”
“And your father never uses his abilities on your people?” Nebula quirked an eyebrow in doubt. “I don’t believe that.”
“Only for good. We provide what we can,” Peter nodded. “Dad does most of it, though it kinda drains him. He usually gets Mantis to use her powers to help keep him sane. Me, I’m still not great at it. I’ve only got about ten years of experience under my belt. Still learning.”
“Interesting,” Gamora drawled, leaning back in her chair. She pulled the marble blade from her belt, holding it up to eye level briefly before pressing its tip into the surface of the dining table, twirling it with one finger resting on the hilt. “We’ve been to the furthest reaches of the galaxy. Heard tales of the Celestials, what they were capable of. Rumors, of what they could do. What they might do, given the chance.”
“If you’re implying that my dad’s doing something wrong - ” Peter began, but Gamora interrupted him instantly.
“I’m in no position to judge. Look at our father,” she said with a derisive snort. “Look at what he’s asked of me. And let’s not be naive here, Peter Quill. Thanos and Ego didn’t set this up to play matchmaker. They want to unite our powers. They want something far beyond anything we could imagine alone. The real question is, what are we going to do about it?”
“Do about it?” Peter echoed rather dumbly.
“Absolute power,” she said slowly, leaning across the table (well, as best she could. It was unreasonably wide) to stare him down. “Do we let it happen, or do we make it go away entirely?”
“Well, this conversation just took a turn,” Yondu commented dryly, the first time he had spoken since dinner started. Gamora and Nebula were surprised to see him speak out of turn, but Peter, as always, only poked him in retaliation before turning back to observe the girls.
Before Peter could properly gather his thoughts, the servers came back to remove their plates and bring out dessert, elaborate puddings and cakes topped with heaps of fruit and sugary crystalline structures. It was the bare bones of a distraction, though, as he instead began to wonder what the Titans had really come here for. Gamora’s words implied that she wanted to go against Thanos, to stop him before it was too late. He wasn’t sure whether to interpret Nebula’s silence as agreeance, or at least, compliance, but she seemed to be something of a wildcard, guided more by self-preservation than logic. And okay, Peter knew that his dad wasn’t exactly squeaky clean, either - there were places he and Mantis were never allowed to go within spitting distance of, and they’d been punished by the light before, enough times for Peter to comfortably refer to it as abuse (in his mind, anyway. There was no telling what would happen if he said it out loud). But was it enough to justify defiance? Or, more accurately, treason? Was it treason?
“What are you proposing here, then? I’m guessing it’s not marriage,” Peter said, half-teasing, though his insides were beginning to twist unpleasantly at her insinuations.
Gamora cast yet another glance at Nebula, who nodded sharply at her in a surprising show of support. When she looked back at Peter and spoke once more, he was surprised to hear a hint of desperation in her voice for the first time. “I’m proposing an alliance, between my people and yours, that do not involve our respective fathers, before anyone gets hurt,” she said. “You have no idea the kind of horrors Thanos will unleash upon this universe, should he succeed in his plans.”
“And what is his plan?” Peter felt Yondu place a hand on his arm in warning, but he shook him off. He wanted to hear this, wanted to know where this was going.
“To pretend that this marriage is only that,” she said, her voice beginning to tremble. “We are to observe your father, find out the full potential of a Celestial and how to use it to our advantage. Then, kill him to take control of this planet, and manipulate you into working for us.”
Peter, stunned into silence, felt his spoon slip between his fingers. The clattering sound it made upon striking the bottom of his bowl only intensified the persistent ringing in his ears. Heart racing, his eyes flickered over towards Yondu, who had also frozen at Gamora’s admittance. “Mantis?” Yondu finally said. “What do ya think, girl?”
Mantis cocked her head in observance, her face utterly blank aside from her eyes roaming Gamora’s face, her antennae moving gently as if to bow to the other girl. “She is speaking the truth,” she finally said. “Thanos does intend on killing Father. Or rather, having her kill Father.”
“Then they should know our truth,” Peter said, standing abruptly.
“Don’t be stupid, Quill,” Yondu warned, once again reaching for his arm and getting shaken off instantly. Sighing, he threw his hands up in the air in defeat and leaned back. “It’s your funeral, boy.”
“You speak quite freely for a subordinate,” Drax interjected. “Have you no respect for your master?”
“Oh, so you do talk!” Yondu retorted.
“Only when it is required of me,” Drax replied irritably. “I see no use in yammering on like a schoolchild, with nothing of importance to say.”
“That would imply what you just said was useful!”
“Hey, leave Drax alone,” Rocket snapped, jumping up onto his chair and pounding a fist on the table, rattling the dishes around him. “What the hell is this ‘our truth’ business about, Quill?”
“Do not talk to him like that,” Mantis snapped, her antennae angling themselves towards Rocket as she, too, shot out of her seat. “You will address him as ‘your highness’ or ‘Prince Peter’ - ”
“No, don’t - everyone just shut up!” Peter yelled. Silence immediately fell across the table. He wasn’t sure when everyone else had stood up. “You guys need to know...if Dad dies, this planet dies too. Everyone on it dies. Children...families. And I’ll lose my Celestial powers.”
“Quill!” Yondu hissed, but Peter only flapped a hand at him to shut him up.
“The only way that your dad can get what he wants…” Peter trailed off, hesitant to finish the sentence. He wasn’t liking his odds.
“...is if we kill you instead,” Gamora finished, sinking back down. “Hit your father where it hurts, but not lose the chance for a Celestial slave. Well, we’re not doing that.”
“Really?” Peter exclaimed before he could stop himself. After her whole spiel about her and Nebula being experienced killers, he almost expected them to take him down where he stood.
She glared daggers at him in return. Okay, fair. It did sound rather judgemental, now that he thought about it. “Does it look like Nebula and I want to carry out Thanos’s plans? We’ve been discussing what to do while on our journey here, and we’ve come to the conclusion that the best way to prevent certain death is to work with you. To stop Thanos from committing genocide with your father’s powers.”
“You’re kidding.” Peter looked once again to Mantis, who shook her head in affirmation. “You know, a little warning would’ve been real helpful. And what were you gonna do if Dad was here?”
“I would have asked for a private meeting,” Gamora said, shrugging. Her face softened. “Quill, please, don’t make me beg. Billions will perish if we choose not to interfere. If we do nothing, we are helping Thanos succeed. We are helping him hurt people...torture them...in the ways that he did to us.” To illustrate Gamora’s point, Nebula wordlessly lifted her arm, disengaging her robotic hand to demonstrate the cybernetics inside, the twists and turns of the wiring and metal that now made up the majority of her body.
Once again, Peter found himself speechless, unsure of what to say, as he fixated on Nebula’s display of vulnerability. “Listen, I...I don’t know what you were expecting from me. Because you’re asking a lot here, and I’m no hero. But...if I can help...if we can help…” Mantis nodded encouragingly, though Yondu continued to look concerned. “...then we’ll do what we can,” he finished, giving Gamora a weak smile in return. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
Gamora finally smiled as well, a genuine warmth beginning to spread across her face. Peter’s breath hitched a little at the sight. “Well, first of all…”
“You must be crazy,” Nebula said snidely, half-stomping into the bathroom without warning, hopping up onto the counter - gold-laced marble, of course, to match the rest of the garish decor.
Gamora barely glanced away from the mirror, still vigorously brushing her teeth. Admittedly, she hadn’t felt this clean in months - her last mission had her hiding out in the lush forests of Dervani, and Sanctuary lacked the facilities that Ego’s palace boasted in spades. It was refreshing to not have a thin layer of ash covering her skin for once. “What is it this time?”
“After all that, you’re still going to marry that idiot?” Nebula scoffed. She picked up one of the bars of soap from the bathroom counter, snorting when she realized it was in the shape of a rose.
“I already explained this to you.” Gamora let out a long-suffering sigh. “We can’t give away our betrayal to Thanos until the opportune moment strikes to kill him, once and for all. We must pretend for everyone’s sake that Quill and I are oblivious to his and Ego’s plans. And Quill, he isn’t as naive as I expected, but he seems quite adequate at pretending to be. We just have to pretend we don’t care.”
“And I don’t,” Nebula snapped. Gamora shot her a dirty look in response. “Fine, but only because I have nothing better to do,” she said, relenting. “Still, you’re really going to follow through with this?”
“What other choice do we have?” Gamora rinsed her mouth, taking a moment to observe her reflection. And really, they didn’t. ‘Only choice’ - an oxymoron. It was a risk, saying anything at all, assuming that Peter, Mantis, and Yondu were indeed going to keep to their word, and not go to Ego and tell him of her plans. But despite the dubious nature of their kingdom, its undecided role in the cosmos, she felt like she could trust them. Either that, or all three of them were incredibly gifted actors. “We’re trapped, Nebula. If we choose to look the other way, the entire universe could get wiped out. If I refuse to marry Quill, Thanos will begin with killing us. We must take the narrowest path, and navigate with great caution - I marry Quill, we remain here on this planet and work with our new allies. When Thanos decides to strike, that’s when we take him down, and escape our old lives. Forever.”
“I do like the sound of that,” Nebula admitted. “Though you seem rather optimistic about being able to take down our father despite having no idea how to do so.”
“Someone has to be,” Gamora murmured. “The other three are about as confident in my plans as you are. Though I can’t say I’m enthused myself - Quill seems competent, but his attitude worries me. And I don’t know how rational he’ll be in battle, but...I was quite rash earlier myself. I don’t like disclosing our histories to just about anyone.”
“Well, he’s not just about anyone, he’s your future husband,” Nebula said with a smirk. “Let’s just agree that you’re both crazy. What a match made in heaven.”
The next morning, Peter found himself pacing up and down his study, nerves rapidly fraying, glancing at the clock every so often as if it were going to make a difference. He had arranged to have a private meeting with Gamora, but she was already ten minutes late. Had something happened to her? Or, more likely, did she decide not to come after all? He could practically hear Yondu’s voice in his head - “Quit pacin’, boy, you’re gonna wear holes in that carpet!” - but he couldn’t help but worry.
Gamora had certainly turned out to be more - complex wasn’t quite the right word, but he wasn’t sure what else was - than he thought. Peter was familiar with Thanos’s reputation, knew of the great and terrible horrors he had committed across the galaxy. Ego had chosen to look the other way, as he often did (“We can’t concern ourselves with the affairs of others, Peter, they’re far beyond our help”), but every single time he heard of yet another devastating event, Peter couldn’t help but think about what he could have done, had he been there. He had truly meant it when he told the others yesterday that he was no hero. He used his powers for menial tasks - lifting heavy objects, creating things out of thin air, reaching for the television remote when he couldn’t be bothered to get up. He knew he could be capable of so much more, though he couldn’t help but blame Ego a little bit for holding him back.
But yes, back to Gamora. She was intimidating, that was for sure. Almost frightening at times, the way she held herself, and he still had yet to see her famous fighting prowess. There were stories of her that transcended the entirety of space - daughter of Thanos, the deadliest woman in the galaxy, so on and so forth - but he had never heard her actual name until now. Seeing her in person, he was admittedly in awe. She was constantly in control - even when she had stormed off, the entire room had fallen silent, as if her presence commanded everyone to look and listen to her without her ever having to actually ask. There was true power behind every move she made, every word she spoke. Secretly, Peter also found her quite beautiful - captivating, even, but he was most impressed by her show of humanity. He would never have expected it from a person with her reputation, but maybe that was what made it all the more genuine. Her concern for others, her insistence on saving them, was a sign of maturity that Peter couldn’t have anticipated.
His musings were interrupted when the doors of his study abruptly swung open. Gamora stood tall, in a lesser version of her armor (though still no less impressive), sans cape. “This palace is impossible to navigate,” she informed him haughtily.
“Hello to you too,” Peter said, gesturing at the plush armchairs in front of the ornate brick fireplace. “Please, have a seat.”
“You speak of servants, and yet I’ve run into almost no one on my way here,” she continued as she sat down. “That man who led us to your throne, Kraglin, he said he was the head of the guard, but I’ve seen almost no ‘guard’ the whole time we’ve been here.”
“You’ve been here for less than a day,” Peter reminded her as he settled into the other chair. “And like I said, we aren’t that old-school. The guard only really exists for the off-chance that someone declares war, which probably isn’t gonna happen, aside from Thanos. Most of them are just stationed among the population to protect the people, act more as police than security for planet-wide threats.”
She nodded, folding one leg neatly over the other, staring into the crackling fire. She briefly wondered if it was real, or if it was manufactured by his Celestial abilities. “Why have you summoned me, Quill?”
“Our post-dinner discussion went kind of nuts yesterday when everyone kept wanting to talk about what they thought. Or maybe we all just like to talk too much,” he chuckled softly. “Anyways, I thought, y’know, maybe we could try to figure out a plan ourselves, without everyone else’s ‘input’.”
“Fair enough. Where do we begin?”
“Well, this might be a good start.” Peter opened the palm of his hand and extended it towards her. She watched as his fingers were swathed in white light, weaving and winding their way up his arm in ribbon-like formation. A small, completely smooth sphere of white marble suddenly appeared, levitating a couple inches above his hand, turning over and over and over again until it had transformed into a perfectly-shaped ring. In its very center was a large, pale green diamond, ensconced in an intricate carving of two blades with a double helix hilt. Gamora, at a loss for words, could only stare as the ring floated over to her, hovering in front of her face. She held up her hand in uncertainty, splaying her fingers outwards, and the ring delicately slid itself onto her finger. “What do you think?”
“It’s a bit eccentric for an engagement ring,” she said, her voice hoarse with an emotion she couldn’t name. “But I’ll accept it.”
“Cool!” he said cheerfully, apparently oblivious to the indefinable expression on her face. “So, we tell our dads we’ve agreed to get married. I’m guessing they both want it to happen as soon as possible, so they can start taking over the galaxy together or whatever while simultaneously figuring out how to screw each other out of the deal. In the meantime, while they’re busy playing mind games, we start figuring out the best way to stop them. We also have to play nice in public as well. My dad likes to do all these over-the-top events for our people - he’s a real show-off - so I doubt our wedding is gonna be anything less than insane.”
“That sounds horrendous and I want no part in it,” Gamora replied, frowning.
“Well, we gotta make the best out of a really bad situation. You might be used to doing stuff like this, but I’m not, and it just seems really freaking dangerous.” He leaned back in his seat, his hands beginning to glow again, though he had no intention of creating anything.
“I don’t know if we’ll be able to escape my father, let alone kill him,” she said gently. “But yours…”
“He’s not...it’s...it’s complicated.” He continued to twist his fingers together. “I’m never really sure how to feel about him. You probably don’t feel that way about Thanos, considering what he did to you and your sister - you know exactly how you feel. But Dad...I hated him when we first met, because he was never there for me, never there for my mom, until she was already gone. Then he showed me the kind of power I was capable of. And I was a kid back then, so I went along with it, loved what he could show me. I don’t know if it means I love him, you know? And he gets really mad at me and Mantis sometimes, punishes us with this ‘light’ if we don’t obey him. But he always acts like he’s some kind, loving father most of the time. And...maybe that’s the scariest part of all.”
Gamora fell silent, unsure of how to respond. She still knew so little of this man, and yet she could already tell that he was an open book. She wasn’t sure what had spurred him to tell her something so intimate, but she was glad to have heard it, grateful, almost, to know he already trusted her enough to share such a story. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said quietly. “Will he be returning soon?”
“He passed on the message this morning - he’ll be back by tomorrow evening at the very latest. We’ll have to be really careful around him, but I think I can convince him to let you stay in my quarters instead - I’ll make something up about how I really like you - wait, that came out wrong - ” He let out a panicked breath. “I mean, I don’t know you well enough to say whether I like you or not? You seem pretty cool, but - ”
“Quill, are you always like this?” Gamora interrupted, exasperated, though she was secretly sort of amused. She hadn’t been so tempted to smile around another person that wasn’t Nebula in a very, very long time. His ability to switch from an emotional monologue to babbling nonsense was rather entertaining.
“Pretty much,” Peter admitted, laughing. “Anyways, I’ll tell my dad that I want to keep you close by, you can move into the spare room in my quarters, and that way, it’ll be easier for us to have private conversations. It would also make it easier for your people to come under the guise of wanting to see you, and we can have all our big discussions right here. Hopefully we can fly under the radar that way, avoid making Dad suspicious.”
“Understood.” Her eyes wandered around the rest of the room for the first time, taking in the bookshelves and desk, the multiple tables and chairs. It was so unlike the furnishing she had seen more than enough of in other parts of the palace, lacking the gold she had already become so accustomed to. Everything was, for lack of a better word, old-fashioned. Dark woods, scratched and marked, a ding here and there. Linen and cotton trimmings in place of silks and velvets, mismatched colors and stains that looked like they had been there for years. It was quite homely compared to the arrogance of every other room. It was surprising, considering Peter had such confidence, such a swagger in his step that exuded, well, ego. She had been expecting the same amount of exuberance, but instead, there was something humbling about his quarters, warm and inviting. “If my people and I are to live here for the time being, however long that may be, I request a proper tour. Nebula and I would specifically like to see your training facilities, as we have a very strict exercise regimen to adhere to.”
“Of course. We could do it now, if you’d like,” he offered.
“Have you no duties to attend to today?” she asked.
“Uh, well, Dad...he doesn’t really trust me or Mantis to do anything but sit around and look pretty,” Peter confessed, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck as he stood. “We have a decent amount of say in the politics, as long as he’s actually present. But when he’s gone? The place sort of...runs itself.”
“That sounds improper, but it somehow seems to work for you,” Gamora acquiesced, also getting to her feet. “Let’s go.”
Mantis was thrilled when Peter asked her to lead the tour with him, though Gamora’s people seemed less enthused. The Celestial siblings were already showing their hand at being quite capable of talking fifty miles per minute if it pleased them, and it certainly did.
“The abridged version would have been sufficient,” Gamora commented, though not unkindly, when they arrived at their last stop, the gardens at the very back of the palace. “I was aware this place was quite large, but I wasn’t expecting it to take two whole hours.”
“You have somewhere better to be?” Yondu snorted. Offended, Gamora scowled at him, though he seemed unmoved by her display.
“Play nice, Yondu,” Peter chastised.
“I am Groot.” They all turned towards Groot, who had settled down on the edge of the fountain, his beady dark eyes staring around in wonder at the lushness of his surroundings. Peter had to admit, the gardens were his favorite part of the palace, especially as a child - twelve-foot tall hedges surrounding them in every direction, winding stone pathways interwoven with crushed glittering crystals, hundreds of enormous flower bushes blossoming to their very fullest, neatly trimmed grass that was as green as far as the eye could see. Stone benches that were artfully worn and carefully placed, the occasional tree bursting with ripe fruit and flowers, the idle chirp of a bird gently piercing the air every now and then. And of course, the enormous fountain in the very middle of it all, made of - what else? - gold, boasted a statue of Ego, his cape suspended halfway as if it were fluttering in the wind, and atop his shoulders, eight-year-old Peter and six-year-old Mantis. They were both wearing crowns dripping in jewels and intricate scroll-like carvings, which they had never worn in real life. Aside from the fountain, the Titans were surprised to find the gardens rather tasteful.
“How gaudy,” Nebula said of the statue. “Your father’s name suits him, Quill.”
“Yeah, it’s a little on-the-nose, isn’t it?” Peter laughed. Nebula looked taken aback at Peter’s agreeance with her. “Anyways, I hope we managed to entertain you for the last couple hours, and that you’ll be able to find your way around here a little easier now.”
“You didn’t, and we won’t,” Rocket drawled, though he softened somewhat when he joined Groot at the fountain. “No, don’t drink the water, you d’ast idiot.” Groot appeared to be offended at being caught.
Continuing to chuckle, Peter moved to join Gamora as the others began wandering off among the foliage. “So? Impressed?”
“‘Satisfied’ would be more accurate,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest defensively. “It’s a better sight than Sanctuary. My bed...I feel as if I could have sunk right through to the floor.” Looking almost remorseful, she added softly, “I almost slept in.”
Surprised by her admittance, or rather, the fact she felt it was worthy of guilty admittance, he gave her a gentle smile in return. “Hey, you know you don’t have to stick to a schedule or anything, right? Like I’ve been saying, this kingdom is pretty damn lax. Aside from, y’know, my kinda violent dad? But he only does that to me and Mantis, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“You seem unsettlingly nonchalant about that fact,” she said firmly. “It’s not right.”
“No, it’s not, but...what can you do?” he shrugged. He took another cautious step closer so they were nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, gazing out to the gardens.
She looked up at him. “You can do something,” she said quietly. “Which is what we’re going to do. And if it were up to me, we would have an army standing behind us. But something tells me your so-called ‘guard’ isn’t exactly up to the task.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? We’ve got perfectly good soldiers,” Peter protested.
“It’s hard to believe you when you also tell me that you and your sister apparently do nothing of importance all day. That can’t possibly be a good influence on your subjects. How do you better your minds, your bodies? How can you be so sure you’re ready for impending war?” she whispered urgently, casting a nervous glance at their people, who were now all gathered around the fountain, making conversation. Rocket seemed to have said something that made everyone laugh.
“You think I don’t know how to fight?” he replied, teasing. He was hardly offended by her insinuation, considering her violent background in contrast with his cushy lifestyle, but hey, he couldn’t help but want to show off a little in response. “Oh, I can fight. Pretty decently, actually.”
“I’d like to see that,” she said, a smirk beginning to form. “I need to know who I’m fighting alongside, after all.” Gesturing for her to lead the way, the two of them walked to an open field of grass not too far from the others, free of the excessive amounts of foliage and rocks that occupied the other areas of the gardens. “I’ll be lenient,” she continued, removing her utility belt and tossing it aside. “No weapons. Hand-to-hand only.”
“That’s very kind of you, thank - oof!” Gamora had almost instantly roundhouse-kicked him in the gut as he spoke, causing Peter to stumble back several feet, nearly tipping head over heels right from the start. “Oh, it’s that kind of fight, hey?”
He swung, aiming for her shoulder, hoping to at least disarm her, only for her to catch his fist immediately and shove him downwards, slamming his head into the ground. “You’re not very good at this, are you?” she said tauntingly, straddling him, her hands wrapped firmly around his biceps to hold him there.
“I’m good when the other person doesn’t fight dirty.” Trying to ignore the press of her hips against his, he wrestled his arms out from her grasp and reached up to yank on her ponytail, causing her to cry out in pain, arching her back as he pulled. He took the opportunity to strike her now-exposed torso with his elbow, and as she rolled off of him, he pounced, pinning her to the ground, forearm braced against her throat, pushing her chin upwards.
“Pulling my hair? That’s the act of a child,” she chuckled weakly. “What was that about playing dirty again?” There was a brightness in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before, a sort of joy that he suspected didn’t come easy to her. He could only hope that she was already beginning to feel comfortable around him, or trust him, at the very least.
“Peter! I do hope that’s your future wife you’ve got underneath you there, and not another one of your trysts!” A booming voice from no more than fifteen feet away suddenly made Peter’s blood run cold. He and Gamora turned their heads to see Ego standing before them, hands on his hips, cape billowing behind him (Peter was at least ninety-five percent sure that he had created a permanent wind that followed him around for moments such as this). “Care to introduce us?”
Peter scrambled to his feet, bowing his head in submission. “Dad. This is Gamora of the Titans, daughter of Thanos. And yes, she is. She accepted my proposal.”
Gamora stood as well, bending fully at the waist before extending her left hand to shake, allowing the green diamond to glint spectacularly in the sunlight for Ego to see. “It is an honor to meet you,” she murmured. “Your planet is unlike anything me and my people have ever seen before, and we have been to the furthest reaches of the galaxy.”
Peter couldn’t help but notice it wasn’t actually a compliment, but knowing his father, he would certainly think it was. “Powerful, kind, and beautiful,” Ego chuckled, clasping her hand between both of his. “I chose wisely, didn’t I, Peter?”
“You’re home early,” Peter replied in lieu of answering the slightly creepy question. “Something go wrong?”
“On the contrary, my boy. Just checking up on one of my projects, and it went pretty well. Too well, in fact, which is why I’m back now!” Ego grinned, letting go of Gamora’s hand. “I see you’ve fashioned quite the ring for your girl.” Gamora’s eyes narrowed at the nomenclature, though she chose not to comment, instead opting to move back to Peter’s side.
“She’s not - Dad, come on,” Peter sighed, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I do have one request, by the way. I’d like for Gamora to stay in the spare room in my quarters.”
Ego raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And why’s that, son?”
“I’d...like to get to know her better. And I see no reason for her to remain in the guest wing when she’s going to be more than just a guest,” Peter said, giving her a tentative smile. Her eyes met his, a little more warmth returning, though her mouth remained downturned at the corners, stiff.
Ego’s eyes twinkled with mirth, clapping his hands together joyously. “Do I sense something in the air, Peter? Love, maybe? Or should I ask Mantis what she thinks?”
“Let’s not be hasty here,” Peter said, panicked, looking back to his father. “C’mon, Dad, don’t embarrass me.”
“I’m your dad, Peter, it’s my job to embarrass you,” he laughed, stepping forward to throw an arm over Peter’s shoulder, not-so-subtly guiding him away from Gamora. “Now, tell me all about what’s been going on since I left…”
Peter and Gamora weren’t alone again until nighttime, when she packed up her bags (or rather, bag) from the guest wing and accompanied him to his quarters, making their way through the eerily quiet palace, the open-air corridors bathing them in a wash of moonlight. “Sorry about my dad,” Peter said. “Like I was saying - not the most stable guy in the world.”
“Do your people know of his actions against you and your sister?” Gamora asked.
“You kidding? Of course not. Can you imagine what it’d be like if they did? Total chaos. Everyone would go running for their lives to Xandar or something.” He opened the door to his private quarters, motioning for her to enter. “Plus, it’d probably just open up the possibility of him doing it to anyone he wants to. Turn this place into a damn nightmare.”
“Considering his abilities, I’m surprised he chose to run his planet with generosity instead of coercion,” she added. “I suppose it must be your and Mantis’s influence. You have been very hospitable, if a little unorthodox. I’ve seen no signs of instability in either of you.”
“Well, I dunno about that. We all have our demons, don’t we? Things that drive us crazy?” Peter led her into the sitting room, which was every bit as cozy as his study, with large plush couches and modest furnishings. There was a sunken area in the back, which featured a few bookshelves flanked by identical-looking doors, and in between, a large set of gold-embossed double doors. He pointed to the door on the very left. “Your room is through there - has a private bathroom and everything. The big doors here are to my bedroom, so just knock before you come in. Everything else is open to you if you’d like, not that you’ll find anything interesting. It’s just a lot of books, keepsakes, random junk, that kinda thing.”
She nodded, smiling faintly. “Thank you, Quill.” She moved to open the door to her room, though her fingers lingered on the doorknob in hesitation as she turned to glance at him one last time over her shoulder. “Also, your fighting methods are unconventional, which may come in handy against disciplined warriors such as myself, but perhaps not the most effective way of doing things. I could help train you if you’d like. For our future endeavors, of course.”
His smile deepened, though he ducked his head away from the intensity of her gaze, feeling unusually shy. “Yeah, that...that’d be awesome. Thanks. Uh, night.”
“Goodnight.” She nodded curtly before disappearing behind the door. Peter chuckled to himself in wonderment at what exactly he’d gotten himself into as he made his way into his own bedroom.