Chapter Text
"Did ya hear?"
"What about?"
"That Terran boy, Quill, stole the void gem from the Aat’ien the other day. “
“The void gem ? You mean the gem that’s powering the Aat’ien ships?”
“The very one. We might just have a war on our hands. Five Aat’ien ships were on scout duty around Tarth and their ships broke down when the void gem was removed. The Aat’ien chief’s heir was on one of the ships. None survived.”
“No way. The Aat’ien rarely lose battles. Are we really doing this?”
“The Cap will definitely try negotiation first. If I were him, I’d give them the Terran boy in exchange. A life for a life.”
“If you were him? You’re saying the captain isn’t doing that?”
“Are you kidding me? If any one of us did the same, we wouldn’t even be breathing right now, but don’t forget this is Quill we’re talking about. He could cause the end of the galaxy and no harm would befall him.”
“Almost as if the Cap sees the boy as his own, huh?”
“I don’t know what Cap sees in him.”
“Whatever it is, it better be worth whatever’s coming our way.”
---
“Faster, boy, any slower and your only worth is to be our dinner!”
10-year-old Peter groaned as he frantically crawled his way through the vent to the planted treasure, “I can’t go any faster, I’m sorry!”
“Sorry won’t bring the target closer to you, boy, go
faster
!”
He reached the neighbouring room and grabs the rock, studded in cheap gems. He started to smile, chest heaving with heavy pants. He'd done it! He survived another day!
An alarm sounded, the room flashing red. His face fell.
“Tsk, boy, what did I tell you about treasures? The whole reason we need to steal them in the first place is because they’re protected !”
Peter flinched as a rubber bullet hit him on the chest, right above the heart.
“One wrong move and bam , you’re dead. And you’re no use to us dead , boy.”
His hands cupped the rock to his chest. Yondu ripped it away and put it back on the pedestal.
“Shoot the alarm dead, check for markings on the floor, check the weight on the pedestal and replace if needed,” Yondu recited as he guided Peter through where to look first. He reset the traps. “Again, boy, faster this time.”
Peter didn’t dare to protest as he crawled back to the starting room. He knew it would only make Yondu angrier. He wondered how many more times he could mess up before he’d finally be served at the dinner table.
Now that was a thought to keep him up tonight.
---
Peter stuck his nose up as Ronan’s ship travelled away, glaring at the retreating ship from the safety of their cockpit. Ten years with Yondu, and never had he met someone so full of themselves. Ronan commanded them like vermin .
“Tch, Ronan the Accuser? What does that even mean?” He snarked.
Yondu thwacked Peter over the head, saying, “It means whatever he wants it to mean, boy. Titles have significance. For no-good mercenaries, it helps them feel important, sure, but for the ones who have the ability to inspire, to change the world… a title is a reflection of that power. A promise, to all the people following them.”
Peter glanced skeptically at Yondu, his right hand still rubbing idly at his sore head. "What’s your title, then?”
Yondu barked out a laugh.
“Me? I don’t need one. Our name is enough. We are the Ravagers, the name of our faction carries enough prestige to demand the respect of others.”
Peter hummed. That made sense.
They stood in silence for a moment, Yondu setting the coordinates for their next destination.
“What’s yours, boy?”
“Huh?” Peter snapped his head up, startled out of the peaceful silence.
Yondu turned to face him, his gaze searching for something .
“You’re not a Ravager, are you? You’ll be going on solo missions by the end of this year, so what’s your title? What do you see yourself being known for, out there?”
Another hum. Conversation ceased again as they fell into contemplative silence. Yondu’s refusal to see him as a Ravager should have stung, but it didn’t. He didn’t belong and everyone knows it.
A title. A way to prove he existed.
“Starlord,” he said, finally, after a long silence. “Yeah, I like Starlord.”
Yondu tch -ed .
“You’re judging Ronan with a title like that ? Alright, let’s hear it. Why Starlord?”
Peter’s lips stretched into a grin. He could see it—every star sitting right in the palm of his hands, his to have, his to
own
.
“I want to own the Galaxy. No more living on a spaceship. I want to be welcome onto any planet I set foot on.”
“You’re either delusional or way too ambitious for your own good, boy. Starlord it is, then.”
And so it was.
---
Twenty six years. He’d had the boy for twenty six years. Raised him from a child to the capable man he is now — Starlord , the best mercenary on their fleet. There had been a nagging feeling recently, one that told Yondu that he had taught the boy all he could, to teach him to survive, to charm, to succeed no matter the circumstances.
Yondu thought– no, he knew that the boy would surpass him one day. His dream of owning the Galaxy was becoming more and more believable as the weeks progressed. Yondu had watched him grow, watched him make his mistakes and learn from them. Yondu had witnessed the boy learn confidence, as he charmed his way into the bed of men, women, and creatures alike, the very definition of a heartbreaker.
He wasn’t blind. He wasn’t deaf, or ignorant to the whispers behind closed doors. He knew his crew thought him weak for taking the boy in, for keeping him and breaking a stable partnership in the process. A waste of time and resources, Yondu knew, that’s what his crew thought.
Twenty six years. The boy wasn’t his, never was. He was grateful he got as long as he’d had with the boy, but, as the Terrans liked to say, the bird needed to leave its nest eventually.
Look at him , Yondu told himself as he watched the boy, music buds in his ears and dancing without a care in the world, look at how he’s grown .
Yondu Udonta spent a lifetime collecting and trading with the most precious treasures. He’d picked up a brilliant gem, polished it, restored it to its glory, and there was a certain ache in letting it go.
Just for today, he allowed himself to entertain the fantasy of being the boy’s adopted father, instead of his unwilling captor.
Pretend it may be, but there was no faking the parental love he held for the boy, and damn was he proud of his Starlord.
---
This was it.
No more waiting. No more enduring.
There was no point in staying in a place he never wanted to be in. Twenty six years was more than enough. He’d heard the whispers. He knew he wasn’t welcome here, never was. That much was obvious from how he’d been kicked around and threatened since he was a child.
He’d been experimenting lately. Small acts of defiance—hacking the coordinates and disabling the cameras on his ship slowly built up to this.
Morag. The Orb. A fortune to be had.
The money was enough to pay his trip away from the Ravagers and sustain himself for at least a few months.
Yondu had no idea what he’d done, giving Peter this mission. They’d never meet again, not willingly.
Peter hummed as he put his earbuds in, letting the melody of his mother’s phantom embrace carry him into a life filled with hope, and perhaps love.
Hm, that was a thought: love .
He wondered if someone like him deserved love. He wondered what kind of person he’d be willing to commit to, given his liking for one night stands.
He wondered what kind of person would love him, the half-Terran-half-something boy who’d lived his life performing crime after crime.
What would that person be doing right now?