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ekkorn · 6 years ago

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hi there, just saw in the tags that you didn‘t like endgame. would you like to expand on that? i am curious to know other people‘s perspective. personally, i liked it. it has flaws, yes, but to me it was enjoyable. if you don‘t feel like answering, that is fine :) have a great day!

oh wow. you really wanna know? okay, but on your own head be it. :o

i’m just joking, i’ll go easy, or at least give you the digest (a vicious lie) version. if you want to see the full extent of my derision and vitriol, you can go to @lowkeysebastianstan, which is the blog where i’ve tried to limit this too. but to give you the not at all short and not so sweet of it, here goes. (endgame spoilers obviously).

the first thing that really set me off was the ending, more precisely, what steve did. it made absolutely no sense whatsoever, and hit me closer to home than most of my followers here since bucky and steve are my fave characters, and the only ship i really have. now, i never thought stucky would become canon, not even a little, i didn’t even hope for it. sure, the representation would’ve been awesome, but there’s no way marvel could’ve done it justice, so it was just as well it was never gonna happen. what i hadn’t prepared for was to what extreme extent they were terrified of the ship and the effect it would have if they were to let it be even a hint that could be interpreted as some emotional connection between them, for 3 films they’re built bucky up as the most important character in steve’s life, he’s risked his own life to save him, he basically eradicated hydra during wwii fueled by grief for him, he was prepared to die for him in tws, he fought his friends and gave up everything for him in cacw, and then he just? leaves? to be with a woman who died of old age and natural causes after a long fulfilling life with another man and family of her own. who specifically told him to fucking move on in tws? yeah, sure. and do not get me wrong, i adore sam wilson, after bucky, and the real steve rogers, he is by far my fave in the cap verse (saving a few spots for my bp and cm peeps in the mcu, but we’ll get to them), and he is the superior choice to pick up the mantle, no doubt about it. (okay, a little doubt, they teased sebastian with that shield for 8 years, they based bucky on the brubaker storyline where he becomes cap, and so i do feel a little torn bc no matter how happy he must be for his friend, and him and mackie are good friends, he must be a little disappointed? but who knows, maybe they’ll do something with that in the series, which would be stupid af bc that would negate the positive leap in representation, and mackie deserves it too, so who the fuck knows, i’ll probably not be around to keep track anyways, and can you tell im rambling), but for steve’s last words to be to sam? while bucky stands and watch in the background? like??? i could go on in (more excruciating) detail, but that was why i linked the blog, there might be a point or two about this on there.

but that was just the start. all through the movie i felt disconnected and uneasy, they made some really weird choices, but i don’t think it was until nat took the plunge that i knew i had an absolute dud on my hands.

the mcu has done a lot of things right, but their treatment of women is NOT one of them. and oh boy did they go out with a bang. first is the obvious implication, he got to live bc he had “more to live for”, and she didn’t have a family, and ye gods we know she can’t have kids, so why should she live?

(see, if the bw movie wasn’t in the books, i’d completely get it, if it was to give scarjo her life back, and she wanted nat to be good and dead, sure. actually, when i first watched it, that’s what i thought tbh, that the bw movie was cancelled, so. but it’s not, so she will return. and since that the case it’s just fucked up that they yeeted her off the roster. and sure, some of the bw movie was always gonna be set in the past, but tbh? i don’t see much point in prequels for dead characters, you know that whatever happens won’t affect the outcome for the character at all, and i usually find them completely void of meaning. that might just be me though). and of course the fact that she died the same way gamora went didn’t help. (gamora’s death was maybe the single worst thing in aiw, she was fridged, not for the advancement of one man, but for two (thanos and quill) and it.just.shouldn’t.have.worked.thanos.cannot.love! again, mcu and women? not a good match.)

then of course, it comes back to steve and how much he doesn’t give a crap about the people close to him in the present, we never see him care or grieve for anyone but peggy, and he could barely spare two tears for nat before it was all business again. and the rest of the team? i think clint cared a little, and banner threw a chair, but that was it. no memorial, not burial, no nothing, it was like she never existed, and she died saving the world just as much as tony, he couldn’t have done jack shit without the soul stone.

and speaking of women, shuri and okoye? before the trailer dropped i was sure shuri was in this, that we’d get to see her lead in her brother’s stead. i actually did a short lament on this already, here.

carol was terribly underused, after all the oompf about her being there she was barely a blip. but the haircut was fantastic, and the best part of the movie was when she returned at the end.

then there’s nebula and gamora (again). at first i was actually quite pleased that they sort of found a loophole to bring gamora back, but then i thought about it (yes, sometimes i get seduced by the flashy colours too) and yeah. sure. a gamora is there, but she’s void of all the things that makes her interesting and all her development is just gone, everything “our” gamora achieved and experienced is gone, three films worth of arc is worthless. so what then is the point of getting “her” back? i don’t care about this person, i don’t know her. are we gonna see quill just harass her the next film, bc you know, she’s been with him, so why shouldn’t he expect her to just do that now? tbh i wouldn’t be surprised, but now that gunn is back maybe he can save it? not that i’ll be around to keep track though.

then nebula. nvm that time paradox, that’s a whole other fuckfest i’ll get back to, but we had to get to see her get killed too, didn’t we. by her sister, the only person in the world she loves. fucking fantastic, i cannot control my enthusiasm.

and no, cool as it was, the a-force surrounding parker is not enough to bring this home. it was a cool sight though. (see? i can see the good.)

then of course it’s peggy. a woman he knew for a few months back during the war. (sure they knew each other longer, but i’d say, even if you’re very generous, they can’t have spent more than a couple of months in each other’s company, and they kissed once). who they stripped of all character development and autonomy so that steve could go back and get his “damce”. everything she achieved, every good thing that happened to her, her husband, her family, her advancement in shield, all gone. bc steve must have his happy ending, no matter that she told him to move the fuck on in tws, who cares.

and then there’s sharon. yeah, they forgot about her, didn’t they. i mean, i was never really on board with that, the whole aunt/niece thing was a bit too weird for me, and this was way before i shipped stucky, but that doesn’t matter. bc they did that, they had them kiss within days after peggy’s death (oooh, look how he cared for peggy), making it clear that this was the beginning of something. (also marvel and several of the actors treated emily like crap, oh yeah, i remember, doesn’t help either.)

(gods i said this would be short, didn’t i? imagine if i could’ve spent all the words i’ve spent ranting about endgame on my latest chapter? good grief.)

then there’s their so called lgbt representation. 30 seconds of a character that had a total of 60 sconds of screentime in tws lamenting his dead lover? well. i. they wanted credit for that. i just.

then there’s thor. they negated every ounce of development he had in ragnarok, this also goes for aiw, wasn’t happy about that, and made him completely ooc, he just spends his time drinking ab\nd playing fortnite of all things? bold of them to assume that will still be a thing in 5 years, but also? thor? THOR? neglecting his people? his friends? the world? thor? then they of course made him fat, haha, so they could add fat-shaming to the list while they make light and fun of his drinking problems, his grief and his ptsd. awesome. the funniest.

then there’s clint. that they just randomly made a killer? just, like a straight up murderer? okay then. and still nat deserved to die. excellent.

then there’s banner. okay, i don’t think they fucked him up as bad as the others, but it’s still strange he would risk his intelligence to become hulk full time, but you do you.

rocket and rhodey were the best things about this damn disaster, just putting it out there.

then there’s tony. i mean, we knew he was the main protagonist, and im not objecting that, (even if i think it’s really strange he’d be born in 1970) but idk. that was strange’s plan? all that for that? and pepper just went, eh what the hell, just die, i can raise this kid you wanted. (i know, i know, she’s her mom, she cares), but it was just so flat. and idk. i mean, rdj wanted his life back, just as evans, but i’d want to see that switched, that tony get to retire and steve sacrifice himself to save the world. tony could still be the deciding factor in strange’s plan even if steve delivered the coup de grace. at least he cared enough to show an emotion™when peter came back, which was more than steve bothered with. jfc they fucked up steve.

then there’s the time travel. okay, a few things about the 2012 thing. they put him in the elevator, and then, instead of having him just kick the crap out of the agents, they reference hydra!cap? the biggest shitstorm in the comics in the last two decades? like what the actual fuck? then of course there’s the americas ass thing, which, again, that’s steve, cares about his ass but not his friends! (but at least 2012 steve cares about bucky, maybe he’ll save him a couple of years early, back to the future steve will just live out his life knowing bucky is getting tortured somewhere in siberia, good times.) oh! and i guess they have their loophole to get loki back too, great, they’ll probably just forget that he’s not in the main timeline, bc who cares.

and the fun just keeps coming with the time travel. oh they tried with some crap explanation that no one can make sense of, but here’s the kicker. they can’t either, they don’t even want to try, they don’t even agree with each other.

+ +

how did they know to meet up in wakanda or wherever, the dustees? did strange send a memo? not just the ppl in the soul realm or wherever they were, but all the others too, like valkyrie and hope. time and place just magically popped into their heads? and what happened when they all came back? or some came back, bc obviously a shit ton of ppl died at the dusting, like the pilot of a 747 gone? plane goes down and such, ppl really dead. and where do they reappear? where they disappeared? aka those passengers that got dusted comes back mid flight? fun! and what about the ones that moved on in their absence? what happens to the ones that come back when their wives and husbands are remarried, when there’s no place for them in their old lives. did all of peter’s classmates get dusted, or did the rest of the class graduate without him, i must assume that all of those in s:ffh did, otherwise some would be in college by now, yeah?

and that’s another reason their watertight time travel is leaky af, there’s no way to get the logistics to work. the only option as such would have been to go back to 2018 and fix it, to reset time, bc otherwise there are just too many holes, it’s just not possible. but they can’t do that bc then they’ll undo all the things that happen in the future that the characters don’t want to lose, like tony’s kid.

oh, i know, it’s a superhero movie, but im strange like that, i expect a modicum of internal logic in all my movies, the bitch that i am.

okay, im gonna leave it there, ive run out of steam, and i want to gif a set. there’s a few things more, but i think you’ve gotten the gist, that i’m not a fan of this movie and a short (lol, so sorry, nothing is ever digest with me, i should’ve warned you) list of reasons why. honestly this is the first time i’ve really don’t a more general account, ive pretty much stuck to steve and that crapshute, there’s a lot of other blogs that concentrate on the other characters, i’d list a few, but i don’t have it in me rn, pop me a msg if you’re interested, also if you’re interested in some real meta, this rambling rant isn’t something that people should be exposed to honestly.

avengers: endgame was a shit movie and no amount of “he’s worthy” and “avengers assemble” is going to fix that, BUT if you enjoyed it, i don’t think less of you, obviously everyone is different, and i envy the hell out of you, i sorely wish i could’ve liked it too. the russos directed what is by far the best movie in the mcu imo, tws, and they had us all fooled, even if we probably should’ve seen it coming after iron man 4: civil war.

hope you’re having a spectacular day, sorry you had to read this if you did, and and thank you for making mine better, i really had a rant in me needing out. (you’d think i’d run out of hate for this by now, but nah.)

thank you for the ask :)

#whyisitsohardtogetoutofbed #ask #answered #anti endgame #i am sorry #i know it's awfully negative #but you asked #obviously you couldn't have been prepared for this though #so i am i bit sorry #lisa's crap #oh look a new tag #i refuse to keep tagging for spoilers #if you've still not seen it idk what to tell you #also the read more should be enough

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bevioletskies · 6 years ago

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across the universe [2/8]

summary: Peter, the son of the Chancellor, has lived among the stars for the first ten years of his life. Gamora, the future Commander of Terra, has lived on the ground for the first ten years of hers. Though it’s finally time for the last survivors of the so-called apocalypse to return to Earth, they might not be prepared for what’s waiting for them. But when Peter and Gamora meet and find their worlds irreversibly tangled together, titles, obligations, and the impending war may be the very last thing on their minds.

a/n: The premise of this fic is very loosely based off of The 100, the television show more so than the book series. However, no previous knowledge is required, as I only used the basic concept and language, and none of the storylines or characters arcs from the show.

Fic title is from the song Across The Universe by The Beatles. Prologue can be found here. Warning for injuries, blood, and bad parenting.

word count: 11.4k | ao3 | tag

Gamora felt as if she looked a bit strange to anyone who happened to be nearby - hopefully, nobody - sitting under a tree, tapping one foot impatiently as she sharpened her favorite blade. Logically, she knew it would be safer to hide at the top of the tree in case she came across the wrong clan, but there was a sort of nervous energy pulsating through her that needed to be expended, different to the kind of energy she felt during a training session (or a real fight).

While she waited, her mind wandered to earlier in the morning when she was at breakfast with Nebula. It was hard to look at her sometimes, to see the pieces of her that were no longer her, the pieces that glinted in the sunlight and echoed with a metallic clang when struck. To their father, a broken leg meant a replaced one, an offhand complaint about being unable to hear something meant a complete overhaul of her sensory system. To him, a lost fight meant everything. Gamora looked down to her own arm, watched the silver twist and turn underneath her skin like new veins. They still burned sometimes.

“Gamora?”

She quickly drew her arm behind her back and looked up to see Peter standing there, a boyish grin on his face. He was dressed differently than when she saw him three weeks ago, his hair longer and curling slightly over his shining eyes. The most notable thing, however, was the glow of his hands, and in his cupped palms was a crudely-made rubber ball. “Hapotei.”

He blinked. “Sorry?”

“Happy birthday,” she sighed; she could’ve sworn she’d taught him that last time after they agreed to meet on his eleventh birthday. They’d been meeting in secret for six months now, starting off as her simply teaching him some basics of the language and the planet, then quickly developing into tentative, but hopeful friendship. She also conveniently left out the fact that she was a daughter of Thanos. In all fairness, he spoke fondly of his mother and sister but didn’t speak of his father, either, and they left it at that. She knew it was risky for both of them to be spending time together, but she found herself genuinely enjoying his company, found that she felt just a little bit less like their great and terrible world was waiting for her to lead the way. He was the only person in her life who didn’t know her predetermined fate.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she got to her feet and went to join him, stashing her blade as she did. “I think it’s weird that your people remember what day they were born.”

“I think it sucks that your people don’t,” he shot back, though not unkindly. “But c’mon, isn’t this cool? Made it myself!” He held out his hands, proud. She poked the ball gingerly, leaving a permanent fingerprint on its surface. “Okay, so it’s not the best thing ever - ”

“It’s...better,” she said slowly, thinking back to the time he’d presented her with what looked like an approximation of a deflated balloon. She had asked him about the light the second time they met since she never got the chance during their first encounter, and ever since then, he’d been far too eager to bring deformed creations along with him. “You’re getting better.” Her eyes flickered upwards to his shoulders, taking in the shiny red leather. “Your jacket...it smells new.”

“You can smell - yeah, okay,” Peter chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a birthday present from Yondu. Oh, and my mom gave me this!” He unhooked something from the belt loop of his jeans and held it out to her, some rectangular device that looked positively ancient compared to all the technology they both had access to. She carefully took it, turning it over in her hands as if it would magically explain itself. “It’s called a Walkman. Plays music.”

“My people don’t have music,” Gamora said. Peter looked scandalized. “What do you do with it?”

“Do? Nothin’. You listen to it. Or you can dance.” He shrugged.

“My people don’t dance,” she retorted, sullen.

“No birthdays, no dancin’...your people really don’t know how to have fun,” Peter grinned. “You gotta dance with me sometime.”

Gamora looked at him dubiously. “...no.”

He only laughed, bright and notably cheerful, even for him, and ambled on down the slope toward the stream, gesturing for her to follow. She huffed impatiently - honestly, she gave him one orienteering lesson and suddenly he was acting like he was the expert - but followed him regardless.

The weather was idyllic, far nicer than it had any right to be. Last night had been another night of war, the kind that raged on until sunrise, when blood seemed brighter and bolder and ridden with guilt. Thanos and Ego had been attacking each other from afar, still having never met in person, and every day it seemed like there was at least another name or two or ten that both sides were left to mourn. Gamora had grown numb to it; Peter had not, holding his breath every time his father had another announcement to make. It was something they never talked about.

“I don’t wanna learn nothin’ new today. Let’s just...sit.” Peter plopped down unceremoniously beside the stream, his legs sprawled out across the pebbles, not caring for the way the water trickled between them, dampening the underside of his jeans.

“If it’s your birthday, how did you get away from your family? Don’t they want to spend time with you?” Gamora asked, sitting neatly beside him. She drew her knees into her chest, away from the water.

“Parents are working, sister’s with her friends. They didn’t even see me leave,” he said, shrugging. “Mom said she’s gonna make me a cake later.”

“Your mother sounds so perfect whenever you talk about her,” she said wistfully. Peter perked up.

“You wanna meet her?”

Gamora was startled by the question. It had never crossed her mind that she and Peter could exist outside of the space they’d created for themselves. She knew she certainly didn’t want Peter to get anywhere near her world, still remembering the awful way he’d looked at her when she mercy-killed one of her soldiers on the night they met. She didn’t want him to look at her like that ever again.

“Maybe,” she hummed, hoping she sounded more nonchalant than she felt. The idea of a parent who loved their children was not something she’d ever entertained. There were plenty of loving families within Sanctuary’s walls, sure, but it was mostly parents adoring the children who were strong enough to become warriors, and disregarding those who weren’t. Her mind went to Drax again, how he used to sit by himself at meals until Gamora (and a reluctant Nebula) decided to join him. Losing his parents so young had done him no favors in so many unfortunate and unforeseeable ways.

“Then come back with me.” Gamora had been so lost in her own thoughts, she nearly forgot what Peter was talking about. “You can have cake and meet my family! Or I guess, my mom and my sister.”

“Not your father?” she asked.

“Everyone says he’s not a ‘family man’,” he said dismissively. “Y’know, whatever that means.”

“I don’t,” she said, frowning. “Does he work a lot? You make him sound like a very important person.”

“He’s...uh...yeah, you could say that,” Peter hedged, refusing to meet her eyes. Gamora’s frown deepened.

“Is he part of your army?” she persisted. “Like a general? A captain?”

“Like...he’s kind of…” He scratched at a non-existent itch on the back of his hand, his gaze now fully cast downward into his own lap. “...the Chancellor.”

Gamora shot to her feet, her mind racing with possibilities, her heart beating with betrayal. Already, she could feel tears burning hot in her eyes, taunting her for letting trust overtake instinct. “Your father is the one killing my people?!”

“Your people started it,” Peter mumbled petulantly, cowering, though he knew it was only going to make things worse. “My mom and all them others, they just wanted their planet back. I don’t see why we gotta die for it.”

“I can’t - ” Gamora exhaled, resting one hand on her stomach, fingers splayed outward, willing herself to calm down. “There are orphans, Peter. Children who don’t have parents because your father wanted it that way.”

“You think we don’t got that, too?” His voice was rapidly rising; fists balled up in his lap. He didn’t want to give Gamora the satisfaction of knowing she’d angered him; Meredith had told him too many times before that he needed to be better with his temperament. “Everyone...everyone’s got dead people. ‘Cos of my dad, and...what’s his name again?”

“Thanos.” Gamora swallowed. “My father.”

Now it was Peter’s turn to have his blood run cold, to have his mouth fall open in a rather comical manner, though neither of them were laughing. “You gotta be kiddin’.” When she shook her head, he also got to his feet, shaking off the damp bits of grass that had stuck to his clothes. “Some birthday I’m having.” With that, he turned and ran off, ignoring Gamora calling after him, a voice he’d been so thrilled to hear when he first arrived, a voice that now made him feel vaguely ill.

“Peter, please!” Gamora shouted, even after he was long gone, and she groaned in frustration, collapsing back down onto the ground, not caring when her boots struck the water and splashed the hems of her pants. It amazed her how terrible everything had become so quickly, how awfully serendipitous it was that the one Skaikru she’d befriended was her equivalent in the worst possible way. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them back into her chest.

Inhale, exhale, she told herself, trying to think of all the breathing exercises she’d been taught, the rules that had been drilled in her head. She could almost hear Thanos’s voice, paradoxically dull and menacing at the same time: “Your anger doesn’t feed you, daughter, it starves you. What you need is focus. You are a plangona, the future heda. Do not waste your breath on those who don’t deserve it.” Her eyes slid closed, her breath evening out, gentle. In. Out. In. Out.

In her peace, Gamora never saw the unfamiliar hands that reached out for her.

Peter returned to New Arkardia not too long after he left, his face and fists still burning with anger. He was instantly waved through the gates upon his arrival, weaving through the crowd of people who either reached out to greet him with far too much enthusiasm or looked at him with far too much derision.

He reached his house a few minutes later, a happy medium between his father’s lust for luxury and his mother’s desire for normalcy, built a mere two days after they landed on Earth. Peter had to admit, as much as he despised Ego’s over-the-top approach to just about everything, the New Arkadia settlement was something to be proud of. It was a small, self-contained town, with dirt roads winding and snaking along between the trees, houses and community buildings nestled along the way, running alongside the river. They had a steady stream of food and supplies, all the adults had settled back into the jobs they had on the original Ark, and the children had mostly adjusted to their newfound freedom, the ability to take in fresh air after a long day in the classroom. However, no one strayed too far from their territory, knowing that the other factions were still hunting them, waiting to chase them right off the earth.

“Peter, is that you?” Meredith called from the living room when he opened the front door. “Where’ve you been runnin’ off to, baby?”

“Followin’ Yondu around,” he lied easily, kicking off his shoes. He went to join her, still awed at the fact they had more than one couch, bookshelves that went all the way to the ceiling, thick pile rugs and quilted blankets and a crackling fireplace. It was a bit like the bigger apartment they’d had when he and Mantis were younger before Ego shuffled them off to their smaller place in favor of investing in their return to Earth, full of quiet luxuries he didn’t realize he’d missed so much.

“That’s odd, because I just left my graveyard shift at the medical center and Yondu was there, checkin’ up on that guard of his who got speared last night.” Meredith clicked her tongue to punctuate her point, though her eyes never left the book she was reading. “Don’t lie to me, Peter. You’ve been sneaking out on us, and as your mother, I have the right to know who, where, and why.”

Peter hesitated. “I made a friend.”

“What’s their name?” she pressed, flipping the page.

“Don’t matter,” he grouched. “We got into a fight. That’s why I came back.”

Meredith finally set her book aside, sweeping Peter up in her arms. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I’m sure things’ll smooth over eventually. They must be special if you wanted to spend your birthday with them. How far were you?”

“Outside the gates,” he mumbled into her shoulder. She instantly released him.

“Peter,” she exclaimed, the growl in her voice causing him to recoil. “Do you think your daddy made all them rules just because he can? Do you think I’m stitchin’ up wounds, day and night, because our guards just got a little clumsy?”

“I’m sorry, Mom.” He sank further into the couch cushions, ashamed. “I just...wanted to get closer to the river. The forest gets kinda boring after a while.”

“You only go outside the gates if you’ve got Yondu with you, you hear me?” She cupped his chin, tilting his head upward so his eyes could meet hers. “You promise me that.”

Peter muttered another apology, then curled into her side again, soothed by her warmth and her perfume. He didn’t want to think about how things had gone so wrong an hour ago, all the things he thought he understood about Gamora and their newfound friendship now soured by their respective truths. Of course, a part of him still wanted to see her again, but he had a feeling it wasn’t meant to be.

Gamora woke to a dull throbbing in her temples and an ache in her side. She pushed herself up into a seated position, taking stock of her surroundings, and her heart lurched in the realization that she was somewhere entirely unfamiliar. At most, she could tell she was in an underground cellar, with old-fashioned metal bars and sturdy stone walls, none of the advanced technology that Thanos used for the prisons on Sanctuary. An opposing faction, then. Can’t be Azgeda, she thought dizzily, prodding herself for broken bones, sprained joints and pulled muscles. They don’t take people alive.

It wasn’t long before two soldiers came thundering down the steps, leering at her from the cellar door. “Heda,” one of them said mockingly, threading his spear between the bars so he could prod her in the shoulder. He pressed deeply enough to draw just the tiniest bit of blood. “Did you sleep well?”

“Let me go - ” She banged her fists against the bars with a snarl. “I command you, shilkru. Let. Me. Go.”

“You are in no position to make demands. You are not our leader, wanheda is,” the other said; his voice was colder, more monotonous. “What business does he have, choosing a child as his successor?”

“Why do you care? You don’t follow him anyway,” Gamora retorted.

“It matters when we all live here, heda. It matters when your decisions could wipe out this planet, again. What is it about you that makes you so special?”

She faltered. Thanos always told her she was stronger, cleverer, fiercer than the others, but she didn’t feel that way. His army had children who were far more ruthless, and she could only imagine what the younglings of the rival factions were like. For people who had arrived here with some of the most sophisticated technology and weaponry in the entire galaxy, they’d all resorted to savagery far too quickly. “Let me go,” she repeated, gritting her teeth. “You won’t get what you want like this.”

“There must be something about you that wanheda prefers over his adult ‘children’,” the first one continued, tapping the spear against the bars, enjoying the way Gamora shivered with every rattle it made. “And if it means we should hold you here until he listens to our demands, so be it.”

“What could you want that you don’t have?” she asked. “I thought Boudalankru took most of our supplies during the first Conclave.”

The soldiers exchanged glances. “How did you know - ”

“You wear stones around your neck and waists, your cellars are made of stone,” she pointed out. “Who else would you be?” She felt an odd sense of satisfaction at their defeated expressions, though there was no time for celebration. “Wanheda will not come for me. He will not listen to you. So kill me, or let me go.”

The stone-faced one stepped even closer, pressing his face against the bars. She could smell his breath; he was close enough to see the sweat forming on her brow. “What did you say?”

“I said…” Gamora’s voice cracked as she reached out, trembling, to grip the head of his spear and pull it right underneath her chin, its tip pressing into the underside of her jaw. “...kill me, or let me go.”

The other soldier put his hand on his companion’s shoulder, tugging him back in warning. “Koken hainofi...tsa bants.”

“Heda, nou hainofi.” She shoved the spear back through the bars and into the soldier’s chest. Though her breath was still coming in short, her palms bloody and her knees buckling beneath her, she couldn’t help but smile as the two of them sprinted up the steps, a large wooden door hastily slamming shut behind them. “Bushhadas,” she muttered. She then turned to look at the cellar, how bare it was, how there was nothing she could to do to free herself. Well, she thought, rolling her jacket sleeves up, not yet.

Two days came and went, and Peter was still restless over what had happened on his birthday. The rest of the night had actually been kind of nice - they had an intimate family dinner at their house, with Yondu and Kraglin dropping by for cake. Even his father had been less moody than usual, though it was mostly because he’d been boasting about his recent “victory” over the Grounders, as the Arkadians had taken to calling them. Afterward, though, Peter moped around in his room, unable to concentrate on his studies or even his usual bouts of self-appointed mischief.

Then, on a miraculously quiet evening in which there were no deaths, no injuries, no war chants or cries to be heard, Peter and Mantis were doing their homework in the living room when she suddenly sat up. Her antennae glowered, casting an eerie light across her face. “Someone is at the gates.”

Ego, who was sitting opposite them, poring over his blueprints for a recreation center, shot to his feet. “Grounder?”

“I think...it is a Grounder child,” Mantis mused. Peter froze.

“Meredith!” Ego called while he pulled on his coat, not bothering to wait for her answer. “There’s an intruder at the gates, watch the children!”

“Dad, wait - ”

“No, Peter, you stay here. Be safe,” Ego insisted, sharply patting them both on the cheeks before sweeping out the front door. Meredith emerged from her private study and came down the stairs moments later.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

“There is a Grounder child at the gates,” Mantis repeated. “They are by themselves.”

“Oh, poor darling. Must’ve gotten lost,” Meredith murmured, resting a hand over her heart. “I’m sure your daddy’s gonna help ‘em get right back home - ”

“He didn’t say that,” Peter interrupted. “He said ‘intruder’, not ‘kid’.”

“Peter, you know that don’t mean anything,” Meredith scolded lightly, gesturing for them both to settle back down. “Finish your homework now, you’ve got that big presentation tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, they followed suit, sinking back into the couch and picking up their books again. Meredith briefly went upstairs to grab her stack of patient records and bring them back down with her so she could stay close by, though her eyes flickered to the door every few minutes, tapping her foot against the back of her opposite ankle in restlessness.

Not ten minutes went by before the door burst open and Ego stumbled in, practically tripping over his own feet, breathless. “I need all of you to come with me. Now.”

It didn’t take long for them to reach the gates, Peter’s mind and heart racing the entire time. Mantis reached for him and squeezed his hand. At first, he thought it was for herself, that maybe she was worried or scared, until he felt the tension in his body slowly ease its way out. Her breath hitched briefly, followed by a shaky exhale. He turned to smile at her in silent gratitude.

The four of them made their way to the top of the watchtower, joining the two guards who were eyeing something apprehensively on the other side of the gate. Peter had to squint to make sense of what he was seeing, the darkness of the forest swallowing up everything from sight. Then, a silhouette of a child came into focus, short and lanky, but clearly trying to stand tall, to look bigger than they really were. His heart sank when he realized this particular child had no hair.

“She’s been talkin’ that nonsense Grounder talk since she got here,” Ego muttered, his eyes full of hunger. “At first, I thought she was just a distraction for the guards, but then I heard a single word, just one word that I recognized.”

“Ai ste lufa Petr kom Skaikru au,” she called. Her voice was monotonous, dull. “Ai laik Nebula kom Trikru, strisis kom Gamora.”

“Peter? Any idea what she’s saying?” Ego asked urgently.

He hesitated. Mantis, noticing the tremble in his mouth, stood on her toes to peer over the railing, straining her neck to get a better look. “She is desperate.” Meredith made a soft noise of sympathy, reaching to gently pull Mantis back in before she could fall.

“Ai laik Petr kom Skaikru. Weron laik Gamora?” All three of them turned to look at Peter, astonished. Before they could ask the dozens of questions on their mind, Yondu came thundering up the steps, stopping to briefly growl at the guard who stood post at the bottom of the tower and dared remind him of the watchtower’s weight capacity, and shoved his way to Peter’s side.

“You know this kid?” Yondu demanded, gripping Peter’s arm. “You been talkin’ to Grounders?”

“You!” Everyone jumped at Nebula’s sudden language switch, turning back to look at her in time to see her scoff derisively at Peter in a way that made him shrink into himself. “You are my sister’s friend?”

“Not really,” he said, hating the way his voice shook, hating the way everyone’s eyes were fixated on him - not just his family’s, not just Yondu’s, but all the Arkadians who had gathered near the gates, watching the spectacle of the Chancellor’s child, of all people, speaking the Grounder language. “She’s not talkin’ to me no more.”

“She is missing.” Peter’s blood ran cold. “She never came home after she left camp to see you.”

“Did she...did she tell you about me?”

Nebula smirked; it was the first expression she’d made that wasn’t entirely neutral. Somehow, it was even more unsettling. The fact she was quite casually staring down the guards who stood directly opposite her, pointing guns at her head, didn’t help matters, either. “She keeps a box under her bed with these odd...things in it. When she didn’t come home, I went looking for clues in her room and found it, with the word ‘Petr’ written on the lid. There is no Petr in Trikru.” Peter’s face reddened, both out of embarrassment and delight.

“Peter, what is going on here?” Ego said lowly, reaching around Meredith to grab Peter. Before he could, Yondu stepped sideways to block him, holding up his hands defensively. “Captain, step away from my son.”

“You let your boy be, Chancellor, clearly they got a lot to talk about,” Yondu countered, half-bowing his head out of respect, though it only seemed to infuriate Ego further. “And boys, can you stop pointin’ your weapons at the kid already? You’re makin’ me nervous!” The guards slowly lowered their guns, exchanging shameful looks amongst themselves. Nebula seemed unbothered either way.

“We were yelling at each other a bunch, and then I guess I just...left her there,” Peter said, turning back to Nebula, his heart sinking. “Do you think that maybe...someone took her? Like one of the other clans?”

Her chin tilted downward, casting her gaze to her feet. “Maybe,” she repeated, her voice hollow. Then, shaking herself, she turned to leave.

“Wait,” Peter called. She paused mid-step. “I can show you where we were, maybe it’ll help you find her.”

“No, you are not to leave Arkadia,” Ego interrupted firmly, finally managing to step around Yondu and make a literal attempt to shake some sense into Peter, his fingers digging welts his shoulders. “Can’t you see, Peter? This is a trap! Their men are waiting for you on the other side of the ridge.”

“But Dad, if somethin’ happened to her, it’s all my fault,” Peter protested. “I shoulda stayed - ”

“And whoever took that girl would’ve taken you, too. You think they’re looking to make the distinction?” Ego growled. “No, you’re coming straight home with us. Let Yondu’s guards take care of the little actress down there.”

“Ego,” Meredith warned. “Don’t you go after that girl. She’s just lookin’ for her sister, she’s not here to play tricks.”

“This is the first day in months that we’ve had no attacks, and suddenly she shows up, you think that’s a coincidence?” Ego snapped, gesturing wildly in Nebula’s direction. Still, she remained unmoved, arms folded across her chest and tapping her foot like they were mildly inconveniencing her. “You take the kids home, Meredith. Right now.”

“If I may, Chancellor, I think your missus has a point,” Yondu said, clearing his throat. “Now, you know me, I can smell a rat a mile away, and I don’t smell nothing right now. Let me take your boy to help ‘er, and he’ll be safe with me.”

Peter turned to Meredith with wide eyes. “You said I could only go outside the gates when I’m with Yondu, remember?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle, bending down to meet him at eye level, running her fingers through his hair, stopping to cup his chin. “I did, didn’t I? What kind of mother would I be if I went back on my word, hmm?”

“Still the best kind,” Peter said simply, smiling. Meredith laughed, kissing his cheek before straightening up. She then turned to Yondu, her expression hardening somewhat.

“You don’t go any farther than where he was with his friend. After that, you let her people, her sister, find her. You come straight home, you hear me?” Meredith ordered. Peter nodded eagerly while Ego let out a resounding protest that fell on deaf ears. “Now you two go and help bring her home.”

Peter could still hear his parents whisper-shouting urgently at each other as he and Yondu passed through the gates, could still picture Mantis’s tiny but brave face as she stood between them, wondering silently if taking their emotions would do her more harm than good. He reached out to grab Yondu’s arm, knowing he’d be embarrassed if he attempted to grab his hand. “Thanks, Yondu,” he said, grinning up at him. “It’s real nice of you to stick up for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I just don’t want no dead kids on my conscience,” Yondu grumbled. “Let’s go talk to her before she gets any ideas. I don’t like the funny way she’s looking at my boys.”

When they reached Nebula, Peter immediately noticed that, like Gamora, she was shorter than her demeanor made her seem. Even so, she was even more intimidating than her sister with her inky eyes, hardset mouth, and bits of metal seemingly dispersed all throughout her body - pieces in her skull, her neck, what he could see of her hands through her fingerless gloves. Peter had seen the occasional new glints of silver in Gamora’s face every now and then, but he was never sure if it was okay to ask. Looking at Nebula, he was certain it wouldn’t have been.

“You got some nerve comin’ all the way out here by yourself,” Yondu commented brazenly by way of greeting, his eyes flickering briefly behind her to check for any signs of movement in the forest beyond. “Your parents know you’re here?”

“We have a man who thinks he is our father,” Nebula said; that seemed to shut Yondu right up. “If you’re lying, Petr kom Skaikru, I will kill you.”

Peter swallowed. “Cool.”

It was a brief fifteen-minute walk to the tree where Peter and Gamora liked to meet, far from the battles and the bases, away from prying eyes. He thought about how he approached her just two days ago, excited to see her and talk to her and ask her all sorts of questions about what her life was like. He thought about how Ego was probably right - whoever took Gamora would have taken him, too. He shuddered.

“Tracks.” Nebula walked slowly beside the tread marks along the riverbank, taking a few steps back and then forward again, trying to judge the direction they’d come from and where they’d gone. “No extra footprints, no animal prints.”

“So maybe she just got lost?” Peter suggested, feeling rather silly. Nebula lifted her head to glare at him.

“No,” she said coolly. “Stealth ships don’t make any sound and only leave one set of tracks. There is only one clan who stole them from Father - Boudalankru.”

“Bow-dah-what?” Yondu repeated dubiously.

“You’ve been useful, Petr,” Nebula said, sounding about as surprised as Peter felt. “Now leave.”

“Wait, are you really gonna look for Gamora all by yourself?” Peter asked. “That don’t sound safe.”

“Nothing is,” Nebula said blithely. “Most of wanheda’s army was sent to look for her in Azgeda and Sangedakru. It will be too late by the time they get to Boudalankru. It has to be me.”

“I wanna help,” Peter volunteered. Nebula looked at him incredulously, though before she could say anything, Yondu grabbed him by the wrist and unceremoniously yanked him aside.

“Hey, I promised your mama I’d take you straight home,” Yondu reminded him. “I know you feel bad ‘bout your little friend, but there ain’t nothing we can do. We don’t know nothing about this boh-dal - ”

“Boudalankru,” Peter repeated, remembering the time Gamora had tried and failed (on his part, that is) to teach him all the clan names. It seemed so long ago. “There’s gotta be something I can do, Yondu. Please?”

“No,” Yondu said firmly. “We’re goin’ home and you’re goin’ straight to bed, or your mama’s gonna skin me alive.”

Gamora’s palms were scraped raw, her fingernails broken, her skin cracked. She’d torn a strip of fabric from the bottom of her shirt, then ripped it in two and wrapped it around her hands to suppress the bleeding. Her throat burned from the lack of water, her stomach ached from the lack of food. It had been at least a day since she was taken, and the guards had refused to relieve her of any of her discomforts for her insolence. Now, she was sat cross-legged on the floor of the dirty, damp cellar, contemplating her next move.

Think, Gamora, think, she muttered inaudibly, running her hands over the length of her body for the thousandth time, checking to see if they’d somehow left something sharp on her person, and somehow she hadn’t noticed until now. Then her thumb snagged on the zipper of her jacket, and oh, she thought, there it is. With a quick jostle and a sharp yank, she broke the zipper head clean off its teeth.

She crawled toward the cellar door, then flattened herself against the ground so she was eye level with its bottom hinges, silently assessing the size of its screws. Grimacing, she got back to her feet and began pacing the length of her tiny confinement, running her fingers along its stone walls. She startled a little when she felt a sharp pinprick on the pad of her finger, enough to draw blood. Gamora stepped closer to examine the spot in question, how invisible it was, even to her enhanced eyes, then lifted the tiny zipper head to its surface. Slowly, but surely, she began to file away at its edges.

Long, arduous minutes went by as her shaking fingers moved back and forth, sometimes catching her skin instead of the metal, sometimes slipping from her hand and clattering to the floor. Once she was satisfied with her handiwork, she knelt back down and slotted the sharpened metal into the slot of the screw, turning it ever so slightly. She stretched upwards to reach the top hinges, too, straining with every last bit of strength she had. She stepped back, taking a moment to let her breathing slow to something that wasn’t threatening to swallow her up. You will not die in here.

Gamora stepped forward and rattled the bars. “Chek ai au, bushhadas!” she hollered. “Ai laik yu heda!”

It took less than a minute for the guards to return. “You’re a noisy little thing, aren’t you?”

She merely glared at them. “I’m hungry,” she said, her tone that of an impatient child.

The soldiers exchanged glances, then laughed. “We already told you, you are in no place to make demands, heda,” one of them sneered. He pushed his spear between the bars like he’d done earlier, its end hovering mere inches from her nose. “Why don’t you tell your father we have demands to make of him?”

“He is not my father,” she growled. With that, she gripped the head of the spear and yanked it towards her, jolting it right out of the soldier’s hands so it hit the cellar bars with a loud clang. Using her momentum, she then shoved forward, both her hands braced on either end of the spear, and the door collapsed onto both guards, the hinges shrieking precariously as it fell. They both cried out in shock, their hands scrabbling desperately to get a grip on her somewhere - her hair, her wrists, anything they could use for leverage - but she had them pinned down, the door weighing heavy on their bodies. “If you have demands, you tell them to me.”

The only noise that escaped either of them was an awful, guttural choking sound, sputtering and spitting as the metal bars and the spear laid perfectly across their necks. Gamora got to her feet, pausing to stare at them, swallowing down the acid burning in her throat. They will live, she thought urgently, her heart racing. You didn’t kill them. Not this time.

She sprinted up the stairs, finding herself in a small entryway that seemed to branch off into a whole series of stairways that led to other cells. There, she found her utility belt and weapons tossed aside, and she quickly gathered them up and slipped them back on her person, staying alert to the sights and sounds nearby. When she was ready, she took a deep breath, then pushed her way out of the prison entirely. She was greeted by the blindingly bright sun and the sound of a dozen soldiers’ war cries descending upon her.

“Can’t believe you talked to me into this nonsense,” Yondu grumbled. He, Peter, and Nebula were hidden just outside the vicinity of the guardsmen quarters, where the vehicles were stored. While the Grounders used all manner of technology, as old-fashioned as horses and as high-brow as cloaked ships, the Arkadians kept close to their base, and therefore never needed much more than a few ships and a fleet of armored cars, courtesy of Ego’s limitless powers. “If we don’t die out there, we gonna be dead when we get back. Your daddy’s gonna spear me like an Orloni, then he’s gonna whoop your ass into shape ‘til you’re his age.”

“Do you people ever shut up?” Nebula hissed before Peter could protest. “Why are we hiding from your men?”

“Some of my men are more loyal to the Chancellor than their captain,” Yondu said begrudgingly. “Now get in there ‘fore they see us.”

Their initial take-off was a bit of a tumble since Yondu hadn’t flown since they arrived on Earth - it certainly didn’t help that Peter was trying to push all the buttons on the console in a futile attempt to make himself useful - but then they were airborne, heartbeats pounding rapidly in their ears as they watched the ground get further and further away. Nebula shoved Peter out of the co-pilot’s seat to assist Yondu, grumbling under her breath about his poor steering. Peter then situated himself in the passenger’s seat directly behind her, peering over her shoulder.

“You know how to fly a ship?” he asked, awed.

“Yes,” she replied shortly, though she almost sounded proud of herself.

“Does Gamora?”

Nebula huffed. “How did a goufa like you become friends with my sister?”

“By being awesome,” Peter grinned, leaning back into his chair.

Now it was Yondu’s turn to snort. “Alright, buckle up, kids, I ain’t responsible for you two flyin’ out the window if you don’t.”

Meanwhile, back in New Arkadia, Mantis was curled up by the large bay window at the front of their living room, her face and hands pressed against the glass. She watched as the telltale lights of the underside of Yondu’s ship soar up into the night sky, then peel off into the darkness. “Baby, I thought I told you to go to bed.”

She let out a startled squeak, turning to see Meredith standing in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest. “Sorry, Mama,” she mumbled. “It is just...Peter is not back yet.”

“Your daddy already sent some guards to go looking for ‘em. Nothing we can do not but wait and hope for the best,” Meredith said soothingly, moving to sit beside Mantis by the window. She reached over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, smiling when Mantis nuzzled affectionately against her hand. “You want me to tuck you in tonight, maybe read you a book and take your mind off things?”

“I do not think I can sleep,” Mantis admitted. “My stomach hurts.”

“I know you’re worried,” Meredith nodded, clicking her tongue sympathetically. “I won’t pretend I’m not worried, too. I know you can see right through me. But we have to take comfort in the fact that Peter isn’t alone. This isn’t like that night, okay? This isn’t like when he ran off trying to protect us.”

Mantis shuddered in memory of that fateful night, the night where the Grounders made themselves known to the Arkadians, storming their camp and chanting their war chants, crying their war cries. The night where Peter was there one moment and gone the next, leaving nothing but a trail of light behind him. He had returned with a sort of haggard look in his eyes that no one ever expected to see on a child. He’d collapsed into Meredith’s arms, mumbling about how tired he was, reached out for Mantis’s hand so he could squeeze, so he could know she was still there for him to look for. In that moment, Mantis felt everything he felt - shock, guilt, disgust, and oddly enough, the tiniest glimpse of hope. Now, she wondered if that was the night he met Gamora, if she was the one who helped him feel just a little bit less like that night was the worst night of everyone’s lives.

“Mantis?” She shook herself out of her thoughts to see Meredith staring at her, brow furrowed in concern. “I asked if you wanted some tea for your stomach. I don’t want you on any medication of any sort unless you really need it.”

“Yes, please.” Mantis turned back to the window while Meredith went into the kitchen, silently pleading for the lights to come back, to bring her brother back so she would know he was safe. She closed her eyes, antennae glowing faintly, trying to see if she could detect Peter above all the noise of the thoughts and heartbeats of their people.

“Mantis?”

She turned again, only to find herself looking up into Ego’s face. “Mama is making me tea before I sleep,” she said before he could ask. “My stomach hurts.”

“Worried about Peter, huh?” Ego sat in Meredith’s place, clapping her on the shoulder. “Well, you heard me back there. I made it very clear to your mother that letting him go off wasn’t a good idea, but unfortunately, she’s about as stubborn as I am. We all are. So let’s just hope Yondu makes good on his word because I’m certainly going to have a few for him if they come back.”

“If?” Mantis repeated.

Ego’s face softened. “I meant ‘when’,” he said quietly.

“And what about everything else that is out there? Those bad men who took that girl’s sister?” she asked.

“That’s what I'm trying to protect you from. All of you,” he insisted. “Because they aren’t men. They’re animals, trying to keep people like your mother from getting their planet back, from taking back what’s theirs. And I’ll be honest, I don’t like that Peter decided to be friends with one of them. Not one bit.”

“But she is a child, like him and me,” Mantis said defensively. “She needs friends, too. Maybe she does not have any.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Ego said, chuckling derisively. “They may inhabit a planet of humans, but there is no humanity left in them.” He got to his feet as if to leave, only to stop when he saw Meredith approach them both, holding two steeping hot mugs of tea. “Meredith.”

“Ego,” she replied. “I thought you went to bed.”

“It’s hard to, when our son is out there, possibly dying or dead. I’ll be surprised if any of us get any sleep tonight.” His voice was low, dark; he didn’t wait to hear Meredith’s response, turning and sweeping up the stairs to their shared bedroom without a backwards glance. She stared after him for a moment, then carefully rearranged her expression into something that resembled a smile and rejoined Mantis by the window.

“Sorry, baby,” she murmured after they’d taken their first few sips. “I keep tellin’ myself not to fight with your daddy in front of you, but we both got tempers we ain’t proud of.”

“I am used to it,” Mantis shrugged.

Meredith shook her head adamantly. “No, Mantis, don’t get used to it. It’s not healthy, for us or for you and Peter.”

“I am trying to listen for him, but it is so hard.” Mantis pressed her palm against the glass once more. “I can only hear our people. They think about him.”

“Don’t let those powers of yours take over your life, baby,” Meredith urged, reaching to gently pry Mantis away from the window and pull her against her chest, Mantis’s head resting over Meredith’s heart. “What you need is to drink your tea, go to bed, and when you wake up, Peter will be home. I swear it.”

“Can you stay with me?”

Meredith’s heart simultaneously broke and swelled at the same time, pulsating so sharply she was sure Mantis heard it. “Of course, baby. Always.”

It was pitch-black by the time they reached Boudalankru territory, but Peter was still wide awake, perhaps a little too wide awake. He’d spent the last half hour of their trip trying to formulate a plan for how to find and rescue Gamora, and was promptly shut down by Nebula every single time.

“Leave it to me, Petr kom Skaikru,” she insisted, twirling one of the many blades she had on her utility belt, something that reminded him too much of Gamora. “Stay here and don’t get in my way.”

“Finally, something we can agree on,” Yondu commented as he brought the ship down to land.

Peter followed Yondu and Nebula off the ship despite their protests, looking around in awe at their surroundings. Boudalankru was more modern than its name implied; Yondu and Peter had expected old-fashioned stone huts and gravel paths, but instead were met with a micro-city juxtaposed against the impossibly tall trees that masked the horizon. Modern buildings made of limestone and glass were lined up in a too-straight line along the paved concrete roads, small passenger ships were parked neatly beside them. Metal signs were embedded with what looked like Kree language, and seemingly brand-new lampposts flickered overhead as they continued walking down the barren streets. The most jarring thing of all was just that - there was not a single person to be found.

“Are we in a horror movie or somethin’?” Peter whispered uneasily. “I don’t hear or see nobody.”

Yondu let out a low whistle, prompting his yaka arrow to shoot out of its pouch and hover by his temples. He gestured for both of them to get behind him, but Nebula ignored him in favor of walking up to the nearest building and pressing her face against the glass, peering inside for any sort of indication that they hadn’t just stumbled across a ghost town. Peter hesitated, then ducked into Yondu’s side, though he kept one hand extended, letting it glow faintly to lead the way while they continued on, the street lights getting dimmer the further they went.

The minutes dragged on forever, Peter’s heart beating so rapidly he thought it would collapse, until they finally heard something - suddenly a lot of something, the sounds of victorious shouts in alarming numbers. Yondu sprinted in the direction of the noise, the children following closely at his heel, and found themselves in proximity to what appeared to be an outdoor in-ground arena, the kind with endless rows of seats and blinding floodlights, filled to the brim with every last member of Boudalankru. The three of them quickly made their way to the edge, pushing their way to the front of the crowd, and looked down, astonished at what they saw.

In the middle of the whole spectacle was Gamora, blood streaked across her face, her torso, her everywhere (Peter was starting to become more accustomed to seeing her with blood than without, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing), thrusting her short blade above her head in the clear universal sign of victory. Lying at her feet was a boy who looked no more than sixteen, panting and heaving and wounded by more than just his pride. Around them, the crowd stomped their feet, clapped their hands, chanted: he-da, he-da, he-da…

“Yo laik ai kru,” Gamora shouted, her voice amplified by the device that was wrapped tight around her neck. “Ai laik yu heda!” Everyone roared back with vigor. Nebula recoiled.

“What the…” Peter turned to look at Nebula, speechless. “What’s goin’ on?”

“She called for a Conclave,” Nebula murmured. “And she won. As she always does.”

“She don’t look like she needs our help,” Yondu said, sounding half-impressed, half-terrified. “But alrigh’, let’s go get ‘er.”

They continued to shove their way through the throng of people, though Peter and Nebula soon found themselves constantly getting knocked aside due to their obvious height disadvantage, clinging onto the tails of Yondu’s coat before they could lose sight of him. Eventually, Peter’s impatience got the best of him, and he simultaneously let out a frustrated shout and a blast of light, startling everyone within a fifty-foot radius. They managed to sprint the rest of the way down to the arena ring without trouble after that.

“Sister!” Nebula shouted. She didn’t wait for Peter and Yondu, instead vaulting herself over the electric fence perimeter like it was nothing. Gamora’s eyes lit up with a different sort of elation upon hearing Nebula’s voice, and she ran to embrace her, much to Nebula’s chagrin.

“Nebula!” Gamora burrowed her face in Nebula’s neck. “It’s so good to see you, sister.”

“Do not - ” Nebula wrestled out of Gamora’s grip and shoved her back; she was now covered in blood, too. “You’ve been gone for two days, and suddenly you rule Boudalankru?”

“Something Father has never done before,” Gamora said gleefully, her face shining. “Do you think he will be proud?”

“Is that why you did this? Is that why you hurt their champion?” Nebula looked over Gamora’s shoulder to the boy, still crumpled on the ground, now being tended to by his people’s doctors. He blinked blearily up at them in a daze, though one of his eyes was swollen shut.

Gamora faltered, the light in her eyes starting to dim. “It was either a Conclave or my death, Nebula. I chose to survive.”

“Of course,” Nebula said hollowly. She nodded behind her. “Your lukot is here.”

“My - oh.” Gamora finally seemed to notice Peter standing there with his mouth hanging open, now that he could see her up close, see the story of her battle written out on her clothes, her skin, her face. “Petr...what are you doing here?”

“Nebula found me and told me you were gone, and I wanted to help.” He stepped forward, shooting her a strained, but hopeful smile. “I feel real bad about all that stuff we said to each other. Your people are just as important as mine, and maybe...maybe if your dad and my dad talked, all of this could just...stop. I don’t wanna fight anymore. Me and you, and my people and your people.”

“You don’t know our father,” Gamora sighed, though she looked relieved to see him regardless. “He does not want peace. He will not talk. He didn’t even look for me.”

“That’s not true,�� Nebula interjected. “Father sent nearly his whole army looking out for his beloved heda.” Gamora narrowed her eyes at Nebula’s tone, though she decided not to comment on it. Instead, she glanced up at Yondu, who was stood firmly over Peter, staring down at her in mild perplexion.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Captain Yondu Udonta of New Arkadia, and Quill’s chaperone,” Yondu replied gruffly. “And you are the scariest little thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her entire expression shifted into something far more childlike, and Yondu found himself regretting his choice of words. “I do not want to be scary,” Gamora said, hastily trying to wipe the blood off her face; it only rubbed it in further. “I just wanted to survive.”

“Well, you did just that.” Yondu tried not to look at the Boudalankru boy, tried not to listen to the way he cried out when the doctors lifted him onto a stretcher, cursing heda to the heavens. “Let’s go ‘fore these boo-doll folk get any ideas about looking into me n’ Quill.”

“Boudalankru,” all three children said in unison. Yondu threw his hands up in defeat and motioned for them to follow.

Getting back to the ship was easy enough despite Yondu’s apprehension, with the crowd parting like the sea for Gamora, letting her and the others pass through. When he asked her about it, about the Conclave and the little things she and Peter had said about her father, she had a strange, far-away look in her eyes and merely said, “You still don’t know much about life around here.”

“An’ I’m guessing you won’t tell me,” Yondu had replied, getting an affirmative nod in return.

The walk back would’ve been silent if not for Peter’s incessant chatter, pestering both girls with questions until Gamora silenced him with a single glare. Once they were on board, though, she quietly took a seat beside him, gratefully accepting the medical kit when he set it down on her lap. He wordlessly began to help her dress the wounds she couldn’t quite reach while Yondu and Nebula sat at the controls, getting them back in the air.

“Thank you,” she murmured, craning her neck to watch as he placed the last bandage over the puncture wound in the small of her back. “And...I feel bad about what I said, too. I’m sorry. I’m not good with...words, I suppose.”

“You talk way more like a grownup than I do,” Peter countered.

“I mean like...how I say things, not what I’m saying,” Gamora explained carefully. Her face fell again, remembering what Yondu had said to her. “Do I scare you?”

“I guess...a little bit,” he admitted. “I don’t wanna lie to you anymore, so...yeah, a little bit. But that don’t change the fact that you’re my friend, and I want you to be my friend. Not just ‘cos you’re teaching me Trig and stuff, but ‘cos I like hanging out with you.”

“Ai lukot,” she said, smiling tentatively. “My friend.”

Peter smiled back, taking her less-bandaged hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Ai lukot,” he repeated.

“Father is calling for us.”

Gamora shot to her feet, instantly letting go of Peter’s hand. “What?”

Nebula held up her communicator, her mouth set in an even harder line than usual. “Maw heard of the Boudalankru Conclave and sent spies to find you, and now he knows you’re not alone. Father wants to meet with us...all of us.”

“Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me,” Yondu groaned. “This is already the longest damn night of my life, can’t I jus’ drop you two off and take Quill home?”

“If you don’t do what Father wants, he will kill all of your people, just like that.” Gamora snapped her fingers. Peter shivered.

“Is he gonna hurt us?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“If he is in the mood,” Nebula replied bluntly, scratching at the now-dried blood on the front of her jacket. Peter wasn’t proud of the whimper that escaped his throat.

An hour later, Gamora stirred, not realizing she had even fallen asleep in the first place, startled to find she had dozed off on Peter’s shoulder. All four of them had been restless the whole way, a tense silence filling the entire cabin, none of them daring to speak about what was ahead or what was already behind them. Even Peter had been too anxious to ask, because as much as he wanted to pester Gamora with a hundred questions about Thanos, he had the feeling that no answer would ease his worries.

They touched down outside of Sanctuary; the first thing Peter was thrown by was the sheer size of the ship, far outweighing the Ark, stretching far above the fences that were meant to contain it. The front gates were also similar to New Arkadia’s settlement, with watchtower guards waving them in, though their armor only reminded Peter of the night he and Gamora met and the young, dying soldier who looked a little bit too much like Kraglin. “Monin hou, heda!” one of them called.

“‘Welcome back, Commander’,” Gamora murmured in Peter’s ear. He watched in astonishment as every last person they passed bowed their head in her direction, muttering words of respect under their breaths.

“You’re the commander?” Peter asked, agape. “What about - ”

“He is wanheda, the commander of death. I am heda, to be wanheda someday.” She bit her lip so hard she drew blood. “Only some factions listen to Father and his generals. Boudalankru was one of our biggest enemies.”

“And now what, they like you or somethin’? I still dunno what happened back there,” he admitted.

Gamora smiled ruefully. “Neither do I.”

They were accompanied by two guardsmen through a winding series of hallways, though Gamora and Nebula seemed to know exactly where they were going. Peter could see Gamora was itching to reach for Nebula and take her hand, but Nebula had flattened her palms against her thighs in a very militant-like posture, her footsteps even heavier than Yondu’s. He took a moment to look around, amazed and horrified at how different Sanctuary looked from Boudalankru. It was far less friendly-looking than the original Ark, with wide corridors and tall ceilings, all dark and hollow and intimidatingly massive.

Finally, they reached a huge set of double doors; stationed in front were two alien beings who seemed impossibly tall, wielding weapons that stood higher than the top of Peter’s head. Unlike the other Grounders, neither bowed upon their approach. “Corvus, Proxima,” Gamora said tightly. “Is your army back?”

Proxima’s lip curled into a sneer. “We’ve called off the search for our precious heda, yes. And Father has heard of your victory in Boudalankru.”

“I had no choice.” Gamora glanced down at her hands, fiddling with the gauze wrapped around her left thumb, causing its exposed end to fray. “Their champion still lives.”

“Then it is not much of a victory after all,” Corvus drawled, keeping his head straight forward, refusing to look at her. He and Proxima stepped aside, allowing the guardsmen to open the doors, a rush of ice-cold air hitting all four of them in the face before they entered the throne room.

Like seemingly everywhere else in Sanctuary, it was dark and damp and unfriendly, devoid of anything that could make it feel remotely welcoming. There was a single long platform that led to the center of the room, where two thrones sat side-by-side. One was significantly shorter and unoccupied, and it made Gamora shudder when she saw it. She only ever sat in it once per year, on her birthday, a time when wanheda liked to remind everyone who his successor was and what she was capable of. The other throne was concealed in the shadows, but there was no doubt as to who was sat upon it.

Yondu and Peter stared dumbfoundedly at the impossibly large man as he got to his feet, turning so his back was to them, casting a darkness down the length of the platform and across their faces. “I’ve been told of your call for a Conclave, Gamora. Bold of you, considering they are only meant for the most dire of situations, for a threat to your title.” His voice rumbled, bouncing off every surface, shaking everyone’s ankles and knees from the vibrations in the floor.

“They were going to kill me to weaken you,” Gamora said evenly, bowing her head out of respect despite him not looking her way.

“And your first Conclave was to be when you turned fourteen,” he continued, ignoring her. “You could have died tonight, little one.”

“But I did not.” She tilted her face back up, held her chin higher; Nebula’s entire upper body seemed to slouch in contrast. Peter and Yondu still weren’t sure what to do with themselves, glancing around helplessly, but neither sister made any attempt to guide them.

“No, you did not.” There was a hint of a smile on Thanos’s face as he finally turned around, the full effect of his vastness overwhelming Peter, who took a few steps back, heart pounding rapidly in his ears. Though he wore simple armor, it was his face that caught them by surprise; the violently purple eyes narrowing in their direction, the mottled constellation of battle scars covering every inch of his skin, the sneer of a man who had looked upon gods and found himself wholly unimpressed. “This is the boy you’ve been meeting in secret? Petr kom Skaikru?”

“Yes,” Gamora murmured. “Ai lukot.”

“How did you meet my daughter, Petr?” Thanos demanded. “And how did you come by her in Boudalankru today?”

“I - uh - um.” Peter cleared his throat, fiddling with his thumbs in a failed attempt to stop his hands from shaking. Thanos looked bored already. “My camp was attacked by your army. I ran away so they would chase me, and that’s when I met - ”

“Why would they chase you?” Thanos interrupted. Maw and Cull, who were stood at the foot of his throne, turned to look at Peter, to really look at him, Maw’s gaze flickering up and down with clear distaste in his otherwise soulless eyes. Thanos gestured to the guards stationed by the doors, and they opened them for Proxima and Corvus to step inside, both of them lifting their weapons so they were pointed directly at Peter’s back. It sent a short, but clear message - impress me or die.

Peter inhaled sharply, then held out his hands, forming a glowing orb of light no larger than a piece of fruit. Then it grew bigger, big enough that it dwarfed his own head, obscuring his face from everyone else, causing Proxima and Corvus to stumble back, blindsided. He then pulled one hand away from the other, splitting the orb in two. The one in his right hand morphed into a light dagger, the other into something he had never been able to do before - a flower, fresh and vibrant and the exact same shade of red as Gamora’s hair. He turned toward her, holding them both out for her to take. Astonished, she wordlessly accepted them both, her heart thumping in concern when she noticed the wetness in his eyes from his concentrated effort.

He looked back to Thanos. His voice shook when he spoke again. “Once I stopped running, I was real lost. That’s when I met Gamora. I asked her to help me find my way back.”

Thanos sank into his throne, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. “And today?”

“Nebula came to New Arkadia to find me ‘cos Gamora was missing. I took her to where I saw her last, an’ then we went to Boudalankru together. The Conclave was over by the time we got there.” Thanos nodded slowly, his brow raising in surprise at Peter’s somewhat-correct Trigedasleng pronunciation. He then waved for the Black Order generals to leave the room so only he, his daughters, Peter, and Yondu remained.

“You have strength, Petr kom Skaikru, and abilities I have never seen before in my countless years of crossing the galaxy,” Thanos commented. “You are no mere human, are you?”

Yondu, who had been mostly petrified (not that he would ever admit to it) throughout the entire encounter, finally moved silently to warn Peter, to stop him before he gave it away, but - “I’m half-Celestial.”

“You are the son of the man who is calling for the death of my people?”

“And you’re the one callin’ for the death of ours,” Peter retorted suddenly, clenching his glowing fists. Gamora let out a startled noise, barely noticing the way Nebula clutched at her arm automatically to brace herself for his retaliation.

Thanos merely chuckled, albeit in a very sinister way, and leaned back. “I like this one, daughter. He is too naive to know what to fear and too vulnerable to know how not to trust. Yet, he holds the powers of the universe in his hands.”

She stepped forward. “Father, I - ”

“You want this war to end, don’t you, Petr?” Thanos asked, silencing Gamora with a single raise of his hand. “You want to grow up in a world where you know nothing but full bellies and clear skies.”

“Don’t everyone?” Peter slowly unfurled his fingers, though they still remained alight. “Then no one’s gotta die for no reason.”

“And if there was a reason?” Thanos cocked his head to one side, seemingly staring right through him. “What then?”

“I - ” Peter faltered. “I guess...well, people die ‘cos of reasons, right? Like, when they get sick or hurt or just...old. That don’t mean it has to happen. It just does. And war makes it happen faster. Makes it happen to kids like me. Even if we don’t die, our parents do. My mom is a medic, and she has to tell families all the time that people didn’t make it. I don’t want no one to have to tell her that I didn’t make it, or someone to tell me that she didn’t. I want my mom to see me grow up. And...I think you wanna see your daughters grow up, too. You sent a whole army lookin’ for Gamora ‘cos you wanna see her become your heda. There won’t be no heda or Chancellor or nothing if everyone is dead.”

Thanos hummed, contemplating; Gamora and Nebula sucked in their breaths. “When you return to your father tonight, you tell him I will make peace with your people under these terms: we cease all fighting immediately, and neither of us are to pick up a weapon again for six months. Consider it a show of good faith. Then we meet in Polis to discuss the future of this planet and what is to become of those who live on it.”

Gamora made no attempt to hide her astonishment, glancing rapidly back and forth between Nebula and Peter with wide eyes. Even Yondu looked stunned despite being largely unfamiliar with what was happening, realizing the gravity of Thanos’s offer, the levity of its generosity. “I will,” Peter said, the light dimming entirely from his hands. “Um, thank you.”

“You thank me too early,” Thanos drawled, smirking. “My last condition is that you will not speak to my daughter until we convene in Polis. I can only imagine what sort of insights and intelligence she has shared with you in your time together. I will not let it happen again. The potential resumption of your companionship will be determined in my discussions with your father.”

“Wanheda, I never said anything - ”

“You keep interrupting me, little one, but I assure you, I will speak with you another time. Know your place,” he growled. “Now leave, and do not let me see or hear of you until then.” Peter shot Gamora one last pleading look before he and Yondu were promptly ushered out of the room by Corvus and Proxima, caught one last glimpse of her before they were taken back to their ship and told to never return. “Gamora, leave us.”

“I...thought you wanted to speak with me,” she said quietly.

“I did not mean now,” Thanos said, instead directing his attention toward Nebula. “I have words for this one first.”

Gamora’s legs felt heavy as she made the walk back toward the doors, trying desperately to shut out the continuing conversation behind her. “I have returned your heda, Father, something the gonakru could not do - ”

“You do not speak ill of those under my command, Nebula. In fact, you should not speak at all.”

Gamora was numb by the time Maw escorted her back to her quarters, thanks to what seemed like a never-ending night, barely listening to his non-stop chatter about “that funny-looking Skaikru child” or her “bushhada of a sister”. She felt like she only just managed to make her way through the motions as she bathed, finding it impossible to get all the blood out of everything, changed into her sleepclothes, and approached her bed. How she wished she had the chance to finish her conversation with Peter, all the conversations they’d been having since they met, about how her world worked, what it meant to be heda, what his agreement with Thanos really meant.

Instead, she knelt on the floor to pull out the box from beneath her mattress, setting it down and opening it to reveal all of Peter’s little misshapen gifts, still in their imperfect perfect condition. She put both the dagger and flower inside, surprised to find the latter hadn’t wilted in the hour that had passed since its creation, wondering if it was Peter’s doing. Smiling faintly, she put the box back in its place and turned off the light. As she climbed into bed and under her sheets, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to be sleeping tonight. Not when she could hear Nebula’s screams clear across Sanctuary.

a/n: Hey all, it's been a minute - sorry this chapter is so incredibly late, my semester had been going terribly and I barely had time to do much of anything outside of school. When I did have time for fic writing, I indulged in a little Scott/Hope (here and here if you're interested) since it was a lot lighter and less plot-heavy than this fic, but I promise I haven't abandoned this!

I know there's a lot of world-building going on right now but the next chapter will be more about character relationships - there hasn't been a ton of focus on Drax, and Rocket and Groot haven't even shown up yet, so that will get rectified soon. Also, I hope y'all enjoy Endgame when you get a chance to see it! I'll be going on vacation two days after it comes out so I'll be late to the post-movie fic party, but I'm very likely going to be posting at least three (I'm thinking Peter/Gamora, Scott/Hope, and Carol/Valkyrie, because yes) one-shots. In the meantime, thank you so much for reading, likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed :)

Trigedasleng translations: plangona - warrior woman / shilkru - guard / goufa - child Koken hainofi...tsa bants. - Crazy princess...let's go. / Heda, nou hainofi. Bushhadas. - Commander, not princess. Cowards. Ai ste lufa Petr kom Skaikru au. Ai laik Nebula kom Trikru, strisis kom Gamora. - I am looking for Peter of the Sky People. I am Nebula of the Forest Clan, little sister of Gamora. / Ai laik Petr kom Skaikru. Weron laik Gamora? - I am Peter of the Sky People. Where is Gamora? Chek ai au, bushhadas! Ai laik yu heda! - Look at me, cowards! I am your commander! / Yo laik ai kru, ai laik yu heda! - You are my people, I am your commander!

#starmora #starmora fic #peter x gamora #gamora x peter #gotg fic #myfic #myfic: across the universe #marvel #hello this is still happening!! sorry i'm so dang late #school has been wild and scott/hope has been comparatively light-hearted and easy to write

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