Casterly Rock did not have an age limit for anything. Peter saw little kids laboring next to adults, then grabbing wineskins and grabbing a drink. "Is that - uh, normal?" He was trying not to let on that the drink was making him drunk but he'd never had a chance to build a tolerance. Yondu had found out that Terrans had a legal limit of twenty-one and somehow got the impression that it was a medically necessary limit, not a moral one. That or he just liked fucking with Peter. Either one was completely possible, but the end result was the same: a dwarf younger than him was drinking him under the table. The table in question was literally one of the dining tables in the great hall, though right now it was in the middle of the afternoon and therefore empty.
"What?" Tyrion asked, glancing at him.
"Drinkin' kids. God, I think-" Peter rubbed his face and gave up. "I think I need some water."
His host gasped, looking horrified. "By the Seven, why?"
"To drink some water and reestablish the ratio of blood to alcohol in my-" What was the word? "Insides."
"Water generally isn't safe to drink. It can make you sick." Tyrion waved for a servant. "Please bring him some milk."
A horrifying thought came to Peter. "Is it cow milk?"
"What else would it be?"
"I dunno, your family seems the type to, oh, keep and milk something more exotic, like lions, or sumthin'." Peter rubbed his face again.
Tyrion laughed as the servant returned with milk. "We used to keep lions but now that's where we have our prisoners."
Peter wasn't drunk enough to ask about the kind of crimes that got you locked up in Lannister lands. Instead, he asked, "So what's it like being the son of a noble?"
The kid paused and a leery look entered his eyes. "Aren't you one?"
Peter, you are a dumbass. "I meant a noble in, uh, Lannislands. Lannister Lands. You guys need a shorter name. What's it like being Lord Tywin's kid?" Peter took a drink of the milk and nearly spit it out. It was warm, like not warmed on the fire but fresh-from-the-animal warm, and thick. After a second, he swallowed anyway - it was rich in a way that milk from the store never had been. I might like this.
Tyrion stiffened as he considered Peter's question. Peter himself had forgotten he'd asked in the distraction of trying the milk. "I suppose it's better than being the son of a crofter." Bitterness clung to his words, mingled with pain. "I am hated by my father for taking his wife from him and for being a monster."
"What! Dude, you're not a monster. And what happened to your mom - not your fault." Peter tried to shake off the inebriation faster. "Your dad is a dick."
"He is a Lord of the Realm." Tyrion spoke with pride and a touch of warning. "Your words could cause great offense."
"Yeah, that's my biggest worry." Peter snorted derisively. "Look, I get your dad is powerful and could probably have me thrown in prison or order them to kill me. That doesn't mean I'm not going to call him a bully when he is." Damnit, Yondu should have let him drink. Then he would know he had zero filters when he's drunk and prone to say anything. "That doesn't mean I can't get mad about the way he's treating you."
"Why do you care?" Tyrion looked away from him, staring across the room.
Peter ignored that the kid was trying not to cry. "I don't like bullies. And you're the nicest person here."
"Excuse me. I need the cistern." Tyrion stood and walked away quickly, and Peter knew why he was really using the cis-whatever.
Tomorrow, he'd have his wine and could attempt to leave. Tyrion would go on being hated by his dad and treated like shit. He stared down into his milk, scowling. "This sucks."
Dinner went better than the afternoon had, simply because Peter alternated milk with wine and was able to keep from being so soused he fucked everything up. Instead, he came off as slightly crass and even managed to be a little charming. It was easier to turn on the wisecracks and grins with Cersei there. She was tall and fair and blonde and had the most enchanting green eyes. The hot little minx was Jaime's twin and Peter enjoyed a bit of light flirting with her through most of dinner. Nothing that would get him in trouble; he knew the line between charming-flirt and charming-into-bed-flirt. Not that the latter had worked yet but Peter was getting it down.
She ruined it with her first words to Tyrion. "So, little Imp, how go the cisterns and drains?" She wasn't asking to be polite; Cersei was digging in a knife.
Imp? Peter scrunched up his face in a frown, his eyes darting to Tyrion. The little guy merely smiled and took a drink of wine. "I think that an issue with them would be apparent. The drains are truly a charge where no news is good news."
"And the whoring?" Her smile was as sharp as a dagger.
Tyrion froze with hurt and anger.
"Seriously? You're interested in your brother's sex life?" Peter spoke before he really thought about the words.
The mean glare in her eyes ripped away much of her prettiness. She was just like the cheerleaders in those high school movies - vain, shallow, and cruel. A bully, just like her dad. "I'm interested in how his actions reflect on House Lannister."
"Oh, well, that is all right, I guess." Peter let the sarcasm leech through his voice.
"This is none of your concern, Star Lord." Cersei stared down her nose at him.
"Then don't bring it up when I'm trying to eat." Peter stuffed a piece of some kind of bird into his mouth to prove his point.
That pretty much killed any conversation at his end of the table. Even Tyrion didn't engage in anymore discussion and Peter knew the kid could talk. Eventually, he excused himself and was relieved when only Tyrion followed him. Peter wandered into a garden and leaned on a wall, watching the moths flit around the torches.
"You know, if you keep insulting my family, my father is going to have you imprisoned despite how good your ore is." Tyrion glanced up at him and Peter saw the warning hidden in the jest.
Peter sighed and took another drink of milk from the cup he'd snagged on leaving the table. "Yeah, I know. I'm a smart ass. Yondu keeps smacking me for it but I don't learn."
"Sounds like an issue." Tyrion had already caught the meaning of that word, or at least what Peter meant when he used it. The kid was a fast learner. "You have mentioned Yondu before. Is he your father?"
"Sorta, I mean, not really. No, he's my kidnapper." Of course, Peter's feelings on his captain are complex. "He did kidnap me but since then, he's been like a dad. I guess. I mean, I didn't know mine, so I don't have much to compare it with, ya know?" Tyrion was still looking at him, waiting for more, so Peter said, "I mean, he's threatened to let the crew eat me but he didn't let them. He hits me but only when I'm not paying attention, which is the same he does to all the crew. But I'm his favorite." Peter grinned widely; he'd figured out how to wrap the man around his pinkie - in a manner of speaking - within a week. He'd had to or Yondu probably would have let the crew eat him. Realizing too late that was really insensitive to say to Tyrion, he hastily added, "Still, at least you get to live in a big castle. Probably easy to avoid your old man when you don't want to see him."
Tyrion snorted. "My father does not let me dictate when we see one another."
"Being a noble is pretty cool, right?" Peter was a little drunk, a fact he caught too late to not imply that he wasn't a noble. Of course, Tyrion could just assume that he was a noble who was kidnapped so that wasn't quite a lie-
"My father put me in charge of all the cisterns and drains in the castle." Tyrion's voice was flat and emotionless, like it was when one of the Ravagers had seen too much fighting and Yondu would stop sending them out to fight. "I do well to spite him."
"That's the spirit. Get him back for being a bully." Peter grinned at the shorter teen.
"He found out I married a whore in secret, thinking her merely lowborn. He had his guardsmen take her, and gave her a silver for each one." Tyrion still spoke in that creepy monotone. "Then he made me do the same, and pay her a gold. Lannisters are worth more, you see. What would you suggest I do to repay him for that?"
Peter couldn't close his mouth. His jaw hung open as he tried to process what Tyrion had just told him. Finally, he managed to say, "That, dude, that is- That is so fucked up." As the shock receded, it was replaced by rage. "That was - Jesus, Tyrion, that's-" He paced back and forth a few steps, searching for the words. "Cruel. That's fucking cruel!" He swallowed. "What happened to your wife?"
"The marriage was annulled. I never saw her again." Tyrion looked out over the dark garden. "She was after my family's money."
"Still! Jesus, just divorce her, don't gang-rape her and-" Peter cut off his rant. "Tyrion, when did this happen?"
"Two years ago."
Peter stared at him. "How old are you?"
"I was fourteen, if that's what you want to know." Tyrion still wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Fuck, your dad did that to a fourteen year old. To his own son." Peter sat down on a bench, struggling with the revelation, with his anger, and what to do about it.
The answer came in a bolt of inspiration. Yondu would hate it but Peter could talk him around to it. Licking his lips nervously, he put together the argument in his head. Clearing his throat, he set down the milk and said, "Wanna be kidnapped?"
"What?" Tyrion finally turned to face him, shock breaking through the emotional distance that he had been wearing like armor.
Peter held up his hands. "Hear me out. Your dad is 100% Dick, a 110% Dick. He treats you like shit for reasons that you have no control of. He's a bigoted douchebag. So just leave."
"It seems like giving him what he wants." Tyrion looked torn. "He'd never let me go, anyway. The affront to the family would be too great."
"He's not letting you do shit if I kidnap you. And he will never find you - he'll never mind Terra, not for about ten centuries." Peter put his hands on Tyrion's shoulders. "I want you to come with me. There are things out there that you won't believe, wonders that I can't even begin to describe."
"He'll find me." Tyrion stepped away from him.
"I swear, dude, never. Not in a thousand years. Scout's honor." Peter rubbed his face, trying to figure out how to get him up there. An idea presented itself but it was kinda dickish. Peter could admit that he was an asshole; he just liked to think he wasn't a total dick.
"I can help you get the wine, without going through my father. We'll get you what you need tonight and you can leave now, if you want." Tyrion offered his hand. "For what you offered to do for me, that's the least I can do."
Peter felt unmanly emotions rising. Pinching his lips together, he took Tyrion's hand. "Thanks man. You're better than they deserve."
"Jaime is good to me, too. You haven't seen it yet." Tyrion waved. "Come, let's put my tendency to whoring to good use."
Peter felt his eyes widen. "Uh, okay."
Wait, Tyrion had lost his cherry at fourteen, and Peter still hadn't? Shit but life was unfair.
Tyrion put his whoring to very good use by slipping Peter out of Casterly Rock and down into Lannisport that night. The young noble was clearly well-known and the guards didn't think twice about the dwarf taking his new friend out to get laid. Peter hoped the guards didn't get beheaded or anything for this tomorrow. The benefit to Peter wasn't getting him laid but in arranging to buy the needed wine from the owner of the whore house.
Tyrion pulled some gold from a bag and flat out paid for all the wine, then paid the owner to hire some men to move it. Peter could only stare as Tyrion neatly removed all the obstacles in his path. Within two hours, three wagons loaded with casks of wine were ready to go. They even had drivers.
"You are a miracle worker!" Peter grinned down at the shorter noble, clapping him on the shoulder.
Tyrion shrugged modestly. "Lannister gold can carry one far."
"Come and at least see my ship." Peter needed him to do this - he needed to get Tyrion out there so he could move to the next step of the dick-for-his-own-good plan. Tyrion hesitated, longing in his face. "Seriously, it's really close. You'll be back by breakfast."
"All right." Tyrion nodded and smiled, and Peter relaxed.
It took the better part of the night to get back to where he'd left the ship. With his tracker, he was able to follow his own footsteps back to the ship though they had to wind about circularly because of the wagons. When the light of the torch fell on the sleek paint of the M-ship, Peter heard the four natives gasp. The horses seemed unmoved.
"Huh, right?" he said, turning with his arms out. "Awesome, right?"
"What is that?" Tyrion asked in a reverent whisper.
"My ship, dude." He hopped over to the side panel with the emergency fueling hatch - used only in situations where you couldn't hook directly to the fuel dispenser - and opened the cap. It was about a foot wide, since the designer had kindly decided that if you were using the emergency hatch they should make it wide enough to accommodate any number of containers. "Bring a wine cask over here."
Nothing happened and he peered around the ship. The four men were staring open-mouthed. Peter sighed. "Come on, I know I'm violating the Prime Directive but it's not like I have a choice. I need help."
Tyrion was the first to move. "Go. There's ten extra silver in it for each of you." He pulled out the silver and held it up, letting it glint in the light. The three men moved, slowly at first and then with increasing confidence as nothing terrible happened to them.
Peter hurried back to the hatch. After some mental calculations, they punched a hole in the top of the cask and poured it in. "Keep doing that," he ordered and moved around to his patch job. There was a small leak. "Damnit, stop."
Tyrion had followed him around the side. The dwarf watched in silence as Peter lit the torch and started to patch the area. It wasn't a great idea; he caught the wine on fire a couple of times but it was easy to just let it burn off and then keep going. "All right, try again!" Peter waited tensely but this time, the leak held. "Yes!"
"What is all this?" Tyrion slid his fingers over the ship's hull uncertainly.
Peter gathered his thoughts. "Remember how I said that there wonders I couldn't describe? This, this beautiful sexy ship, is only the first of them. There's a whole new world out there." That dumb song from Aladdin tried to get in his brain but he ignored it. Come on, man, you're going to resent not taking this chance if you stay here. If you dad doesn't arrange an accident for you someday.
Tyrion cleared his throat. "Where does the cargo go?"
Peter swallowed his victorious grin. "Let me give you the tour." He climbed into the cockpit and helped Tyrion up, noting that he'd need to build him something to get him up here if he came. The kid looked at the room in dumbstruck wonder. "It's overwhelming, I know. I felt the same way at first."
"When you were kidnapped?" Tyrion tried to smile.
Peter nodded. "Pretty much. It got better, once I got my footing." He didn't say, It'd be the same for you, because Tyrion was smarter than that. Tyrion just nodded and glanced down the ladder into the lower levels, and Peter took that as a cue.
He led Tyrion down into the living area, showed him where the ships' pilots would sleep - whoever Yondu gave her to - and the hold under that. Then, because it was Tyrion and Peter was pretty sure he'd do anything for the little guy now, he'd gotten under his skin that badly, he showed him the engine. "This makes it go. Makes it move. I can show you, once we're ready."
Tyrion smiled. "I'd like that."
That was the last piece to Peter's dick-move plan but he just played it cool. "Sure thing. Let's see if they have the fuel loaded yet."
The sun was creeping up over the horizon by the time the last of the casks were emptied into the ship. Peter shut the emergency fuel hatch and crossed his fingers. He got back in the cockpit and was relieved when Tyrion followed. "Here, strap into the copilot seat, just to be safe." The buckles were made to hold a variety of body shapes and sizes and fit around his little buddy easily. Peter took the primary pilot seat and strapped himself in; he might actually need the protection of the harnesses if this didn't work.
"What are you doing?" Tyrion watched in silence as long as he could before curiosity got the better of him.
"I'm doing a preflight check while the computer cycles the two fuel tanks." Peter answered honestly - not that he hadn't been totally honest, he just hadn't been very specific until now.
The computer finished cycling the wine and fuel just as Tyrion asked, "Preflight?"
"Yep." The boards were green and Peter hit the orange button on the start screen. The M-ship rose into the air with a roar, rising twenty feet in seconds. Tyrion made a choked noise but Peter was way more concerned with the way the engine ran smoothly for the first ten seconds only to have the pitch of the engine rise sharply. Come on, baby. "Come on . . ."
The sun blinded them but Peter didn't dare even turn the ship. He didn't want to lose any momentum in a turn. He still wasn't sure that he was going to make orbit, much less have anything left for getting back to the Eclector.
Most importantly, he definitely did not have enough fuel to get Tyrion back to the surface without grounding himself.
I have finally kidnapped someone. Peter felt good and bad about that but didn't have time for much thought on that matter as the M-ship passed the edge of blue and into the black of space. He clenched his teeth tight as the vacuum of space enveloped them but the patch held in the void, too.
"Where are we?" Tyrion asked breathlessly.
"We're in the stars." Peter glanced over at him, grinning at the pure wonder on Tyrion's face. "Still wanna go home?"
"There's more to know? Than you've already shown me? Are there books I can read?" Tyrion's answer was written in his eyes and his face but Peter understood why he still asked.
Peter laughed. "Man, there are better things than books. They're called data pads." He dug one out and gave Tyrion a crash course in how to work it. Then while the kidnapped noble was distracted, Peter pinged the location of the Eclector and set a course for the mothership.
Twenty hours or so. They might have enough fuel to get there. Of course, Yondu could and definitely would trace an M-ship ping, particularly since Peter had been missing long enough to be noticed. More than likely, Yondu was on his way.
Peter pulled on his headphones and turned on the Mix Tape. Come and Get Your Love poured into his ears and he started to ponder his next problem: Yondu. He had to make the captain 1) see the value in not killing Peter for taking the M-ship and 2) see the value in not killing Tyrion out of pique. Peter wasn't sure what that was exactly but Yondu did bad things when he was having what Kraglin called a fit of pique. It seemed to mean 'when Yondu lost his temper and let the crew eat people'.
They couldn't eat Tyrion. Peter wouldn't let them.
The Eclector appeared in front of them, far enough ahead of them that Peter had plenty of time to slow down. The engines were now operating with a nasty high-pitched whine, and Peter knew he was going to catch a world of shit for that alone.
As he started to line up for docking, a form in a suit detached itself from the ship and floated toward him. Peter sighed as the Ravager oriented toward the ship, the lens of their environment helmet shining a bright red. "Who is that?" Tyrion asked.
"Someone to dock the ship. Someone-" Yondu, the asshole. "-doesn't think I can park this baby." Peter considered locking the airlocks but knew it'd be seen as petulant. He was feeling a little petulant but that really pissed Yondu off. "You're about to meet your first Ravager. Probably Kraglin or Horuz-"
Peter turned as the inner airlock opened, and found himself looking at a pissed off Yondu. "Hi!"
"Don't you 'hi' me, boy!" Yondu surged out of the airlock, his face dark blue with anger. "What the hell-" He stopped and cocked his head, and Peter winced as the captain really listened to the engine. "What the hell did ya do to my ship?"
"He cycled wine into the reserve fuel after facing an emergency rupture after a crash landing." Tyrion spoke evenly and naturally, as if he'd been talking about this stuff his entire life. Peter managed to only stare at him openmouthed for a moment before pretending he wasn't shocked. It had only been twelve hours since they left the planet. What was on that datapad?
"Who the fuck are you?" Yondu moved so that he was staring down at the dwarf. Peter felt the urge to defend his friend but even as he opened his mouth, Yondu pointed sharply at him. "I'm not asking you, boy." He glowered at Tyrion. "I'm asking you."
"My name is Tyrion. I was a native of the planet Peter crashed on." Tyrion met the captain's hard gaze without flinching.
"I kidnapped him, so he'd help me." Peter couldn't help butting in. "He's really smart. He got me all the wine."
Yondu's eyes started to flick back and forth between the two teens. Moving forward, he checked the computer's log with a tap of his fingers. Peter held his breath hopefully; this was going well so far. "You boys flew home on booze?"
"Yes, sir." Peter answered quickly, before Tyrion said the wrong thing.
He needed to have more faith in his friend. The noble had a way with people and his reply to Yondu was, "Yes, captain."
"Huh." Yondu looked between the two of them again. "Alright, boy, take her into dock."
Peter practically swelled with excitement and pride. "Yes, Captain!"
Turning back to the controls, he eased the unnamed M-ship into her docking slip. Yondu stood behind him, watching Peter sweat buckets and offering zero advice about how to accomplish the maneuver. It wasn't a perfect docking; he bounced the ship off the clamps twice before she hooked into place. Yondu grunted, "Now you gotta fix her paint job, too."
Peter sank back into the seat as he cut the engines, wincing at the growling cough just before they fell silent. Yondu cracked the quiet with a sharp, "Peter, go find Kraglin. Tell 'im ya need the tools to break down the engine and paint the hull."
"Sure." Peter slowly unbuckled his seat, glancing at Tyrion. "Hey, Ty, wanna come-"
"Nah, Ty and I are going to have a little heart-to-heart about how things go here." Yondu's smile didn't exactly making Peter feel better but he had little choice.
It took far too long to find the grizzled first mate and even longer to get back to the ship. By the time poked his head into the cockpit, Yondu was gone and Tyrion was sitting in the co-pilot seat, reading the data pad. "I see he didn't eat you," Peter said lightheartedly but his eyes were worried.
Tyrion looked up with a droll smile. "No, I convinced him I don't have enough meat to make it worth his while." He locked gazes with Peter. "You didn't tell me everything."
"Some things you gotta see to believe." Peter gave him a soft punch on the arm. "Ready to get dirty?"
"Yes." Tyrion unbuckled and climbed down, joining Peter in the trek down to the engine. "By the way, I'm not a Lannister anymore. It's just Tyrion."
Peter glanced back at him and nodded. "I can get behind that." He cleared his throat and said awkwardly, "Wanna be a Quill? I'm the only one out here. Might be nice to have another one." He'd wanted a little brother before his mother had died; maybe he would get one after all.
Tyrion drew in a shaky breath and looked away, rubbing at his eyes. "Yeah." His voice was thick as he said, "Yeah, I'd like to be a Quill."
"Cool. But I'm the only one who gets to be a Star Lord." Peter threw Tyrion a challenging grin.
"Is that how it is?" His little brother playfully narrowed his eyes at him as Peter pulled off the first piece of the engine.
"That is how it is." And Peter wouldn't have it any other way.
Thanks for reading my strange little story. I wrote this based off of a LARP system demo I found at GenCon. They are responsible for inspiring this idea.
If you want more of the Quill brothers, please say so in the comments! If I can get enough interest, I'll tell more stories, including post-GotG movie.
If you enjoyed this, please check out my other MCU fiction Redemption or my non-fiction work, City of Promise: