Author's Note: I blame "Into the Woods" for this. Which, incidentally was a pretty good movie. Regardless, it got me to thinking about fairy tales and thus, the premise for this fic was born. Set post-movie. Enjoy!


"Once upon a time – for that is how all stories should begin – there was a boy who lost his mother."

― John Connolly


Xandar is in chaos.

Even with Ronan gone—did that really happen? Did she help defeat one her father's allies?—there are the injured to tend to, the damage to be repaired and lost family members to find. People are crying, embracing each other as the relief sets in. Others are searching, calling out for whomever they've lost. Through it all, Nova Corps sprints through the battlefield trying to help the masses of citizens in need of assistance.

"Are you hurt?" A soldier calls to her and she can see the way his eyes widen just a bit more. Her appearance is disheveled and bloody—this she knows—but aside from the lethargy and the soreness caused by the infinity stone, she is alive and she will heal. Others need aid more than she.

"I'm unharmed." Her voice is faint, almost raw from what seems like an eternity of screaming. She's swaying where she stands and she wants nothing more than to sleep for what might very well be an eternity. Still, she is alive.

"But miss—"

"It's okay." Peter slides next to her, not faring much better than she. Still, his presence is comforting and he places a warm hand on her shoulder as he meets the shoulder's gaze. "I've got this one."

"Y-yes sir!" The Nova Corps officer stammers before scampering away.

"Sir?" Peter echoes, a trace of laughter in his worn voice.

"Everyone saw what you did—" She points out.

"Hey, hey!" He interjects sharply, a smirk alighting on his lips. "What we did."

We.

The word stirs some foreign emotion in her, something she long thought she lost. For as long as she could recall, her days had been spent in battle and in bloodshed. Thanos' rules were simple—kill or be killed. He'd groomed her to be the best weapon in his army. She'd been his precious daughter; his favorite.

But, even after all the years with him, she still remembered the faraway fields of her home planet; of her mother's warm embrace and her father's encouraging words. She'd held onto those memories—the only source of light in the darkness of the world Thanos thrust upon her—and it was they that had given her strength to break free.

We're the Guardians of the Galaxy.

Thanos will come for her. He'd no doubt kill her for her treachery. This is something she'd made peace with the moment that she left, but if she puts any of her team in danger—

"Gamora?" Peter's brow furrows in confusion at her dour expression. "You wanna let me know why you're frowning right now? Cause we pretty much just kicked Ronan's ass."

She can picture all too well what Thanos will do to Peter—to all of them. He'd torture them in front of her. He'd kill them all slowly until he'd turn to her. With methodical precision, he'd destroy her too. If he felt merciful, he'd kill her at the end of it. If not, he'd piece her back together like Nebula, only to tear her apart once more.

Her team though . . . they'd die because of her.

"Gamora?" Peter grabs her hand this time. He squeezes hers softly, the warmth grounding her in the present.

"My apologies." She plasters a grin on her lips, though she knows the expression doesn't reach her eyes. "I was simply . . . recalling memories." Her gaze drifts to Rocket and a frown replaces the fake smile. The raccoon is clutching the twig Groot left behind, sobbing. Drax is with him, trying to comfort the creature.

"Groot." Peter sighs, voice barely above a whisper.

"We are Groot." Gamora repeats, softly. "Is that not the truth?"

"Yeah." The Terran agrees after a moment. "All of us, we're a team now. We need to stick together."

Gamora forces herself to nod when all her mind screams is for her to protect them by getting as far away as she can possibly manage.

"Mama!" A high-pitched voice cries and out of smoke, a little Xandarian girl, only a few planetary rotations old is wandering alone. Her crimson skin is covered with dust and her white dress is torn, but Gamora can spy no injuries on her. "Mama!"

Before Gamora can inquire as to what to do, Peter swoops in. He moves to the little girl, beaming at her and talking cheerfully to her. The girl continues to cry, but allows Peter to hold her. Though the Terran winces at the contact, he continues to hold her, bouncing her slightly, trying to ease her pain.

"Easy, easy." He soothes softly. "We'll find your mama, okay?" He grins at her once more and the child calms a bit. "She's looking for you right now. She'll be here before you know it."

"Peter—" Gamora begins, but the girl begins to cry once more, wailing loud and he curses under his breath.

"C'mon, don't do that." He practically pleads. "Hey, hey, I know! I'll tell you a story. You like stories, don't you?"

The little girl's eyes widen ever so slightly.

"Stories?" She echoes, with baited breath.

"Yeah, stories." Peter plows on, before she can get a chance to change her mind. He sets the girl down on a rock and kneels down to meet her gaze. "This is one my mom told to me, okay? It's a special story."

"Oh!" The girl breathes, excited.

"Once upon a time," Peter begins, dramatically, with a flourish of his hands. "In a far away kingdom, there lived a young queen, who longed for a child."

Gamora moves to sit next to the girl, unsure of what kind of story this is. Her home world told stories, it's true, but none that had begun so bizarrely.

And with rapt attention, both the master assassin and the little girl listened.


The queen would often sit by her window to do her needlepoint. One day, she pricked her finger on the needle and a single drop of blood hit the snow. In that moment, the queen said, "How I wish for a child with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood and hair as black as the raven's wing."

And, as often the case with stories like these, she got her wish. A beautiful princess was born with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood and hair as black as the raven's wing. Thus, the queen named her Snow White. The queen; however, died soon after the princess was born and the king, in his grief, married another woman. The new queen was vile and black of heart though fair of face.

Everyday, the queen would go to her mirror—an enchanted mirror that could answer any question posed to it—and she would ask,

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall

Who is the fairest one of all?"

And the mirror would reply that the evil queen was the fairest.

This continued until Snow White grew up. For, you see, as the princess grew up, she became known for her kind heart as well as her beauty. In no time at all, the evil queen soon became the second fairest of them all. This enraged the evil queen who swore to get rid of Snow White. To that end, she sent the princess into the forest with her loyal huntsman. The huntsman was to kill Snow White and bring back her heart as proof to the evil queen.


At this, the little girl and Gamora gasp.

"But surely," Gamora interrupts, slightly worried for the young princess. "Surely, Snow White will figure this out?" Girls on her home world had been taught to fight from an early age. This princess should've as well!

"Snow White!" The little girl shouts in alarm.

"Just relax, would you?" Peter chuckles, clearly enjoying the attention. "The story isn't over yet."

"This is quite an odd story," Gamora mutters. "Who informed you of it?"

"First off," Peter starts, "It's called a 'fairy tale' and on Earth, everyone knows them." Then, his voice softens. "And my mom used to tell them to me."

A brief silence.

"Oh." The assassin mumbles. "Peter . . ." She's at a loss of what to say.

"Snow White!" The little girl cries impatiently.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting there." Peter teases her. "So, Snow White is about to be killed by the huntsman."


The huntsman prepared himself to stab the princess, but he could not bring himself to do it. He told the princess flee into the forest and to never return. He would serve the queen the heart of a boar instead.

After a long journey from the forest, Snow White came across a cottage. Finding it abandoned—or so she thought due to all the dust and grime—she let herself in.

"How strange!" Remarked she, upon seeing how the ceilings were low and everything in the cottage seemed to be made for someone the size of a child. "There are seven beds. Do seven children live here?"

Yet, exhaustion overtook her and she fell asleep.

At sunset, the owners of the cottage, the seven dwarfs—


"Dwarfs?" Gamora repeats, the word foreign on her tongue. "What are dwarfs?"

"Oh!" Peter exclaims, eyes widening. "They're, um . . ." He struggles searching for a way for her to understand. "They're really small people."

"Small Terrans?" Gamora questions.

"Well, they're not exactly human either because dwarfs can sometimes have magical powers, but the dwarfs in this story do not so—"

"I fail to comprehend." She states bluntly.

"Just . . ." He lets out a shaky breath. "Just go with it."


Okay, so as I was saying, sunset came and the seven dwarfs returned to find Snow White sleeping in their beds. Needless to say, they were a bit confused. At first, they mistook her for a burglar and were going to throw her out, but Snow White awoken and explained her tragic story. Upon hearing such a sad tale, the dwarfs' hearts sympathized for this poor princess and they agreed to let her stay with them.


"And then?" Gamora presses.

"Mama!" The little Xandarian calls as an older woman sprints out from the smoke. Her eyes seeing the child, she begins to cry as she rushes to her daughter, picking her up into her arms and holding her close.

"Oh, my little girl!" The woman exclaims. "How I have missed you!"

"See?" Peter says with a wink. "Mama found you after all." The woman, upon seeing Peter, beams.

"Thank you for looking after her." She informs him, clearly grateful.

"No problem." Peter shrugs. "Gave me a chance to tell an old story."

"Snow White?" The little girl turns to Peter and he smirks slightly.

"Right." He beams, smile like Terra's sun. "Snow White lived happily ever after."

Gamora senses there is more to this story than Peter's telling, but she relents upon seeing how tired Peter is. His shoulders slump ever so slightly as the mother thanks him profusely for taking care of her daughter. She walks away, taking her daughter back with her, back to their lives and Gamora wonders if the little girl will ever remember Snow White or if it will fade away, like the remnants of a dream.

"Star Lord?" One of the Nova Corp officers calls hesitantly and she can see the twitch of his lips as he hears his precious codename. "We need to get you and your team to medical."

"Right." He murmurs.

"I am unharmed—" She tries to protest, but Peter's arm is around her waist, guiding her towards the medical tent set up.

"C'mon." He urges her. "Just let the doc look you over."

She should say no. She should get away from here—as far away as she can because Thanos is coming for her and he will kill her and her team if she stays put—but there's something about how safe she feels with them. For the first time since her parents died, she feels like she belongs somewhere again.

And she won't abandon them in this state, especially after losing Groot.

"Groot!" Drax shouts and instantly, her head darts around and she can see the small twig in Rocket's arms twitching. She gasps, afraid that her eyes are playing tricks on her.

"Someone bring a pot!" Rocket commands and Peter laughs, relief evident and tears spring to Gamora's eyes.

Perhaps, she hadn't lost as much she believed.


Author's Note: For odd technical reasons, this site will not let me upload the full story in one chapter. So, please continue on to the next chapter. Thanks!