DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from Guardians of the Galaxy, either in its movie or comic incarnation. I own any OC I can invent, though. I am not making a £ out of this. It is just for shits and giggles.

Warnings: this chapter contains some mild mentions of sex (M/M), some language, some bad attempts at humour and some speciesism.

Apart from that, it is quite plot-heavy.

In response to reviews:

Dear Jelsemium, yes, I made Ronan's backstory up.
Also, sorry if I gave the impression of being against the Xandarians (I am anti-capitalist IRL, though, and they are a capitalist society AFAIK, so I am a bit biased). The whole situation is a lot more complex than it looks, and soon, hopefully, you'll see a different side to the Xandarians (it might take quite a few chapters until then, though).

Dear Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl, I don't like comic-verse J'son either, he is a total a-hole. But this is an AU, so I can make him a bit better, doncha think?

Enjoy, and please don't shout at me!

Later, they lie in each other's arms for who knows how long, trying to catch their breath.
Ronan can find no words to describe the peace and contentedness that fill him. He lets his fingers slide gently over Peter's sleepy, smiling face, trying to map its every detail and memorise it. Peter closes his eyes and basks into his touch, snuggling closer.

Their breathless quiet doesn't last very long, though. They have been waiting for this for far too long and their first joining has taken off the edge, but by no means extinguished their need, and soon chaste, soft touches become more insistent and daring. They stumble to the shower, to clean up before a second round, and end up having it right there, under the warm spray of water, grinding against each other and stroking each other to completion.

Before they know, it is midday. When they leave the guest house, the landlady glares at them with evident disapproval. Ronan thinks that she will try to charge them some other extra for having made love until late in the morning, but she keeps quiet, expressing her despise with her eyes only.
Gamora hasn't contacted them yet, so they migrate to a small restaurant under an archway at the margin of the market. After all their... energetic activities, Ronan is feeling quite hungry. They get a flatbread full of meat, vegetables and a strange white-ish spicy sauce each and sit down near the window, watching out for potential trouble.
Ronan can see that Peter is quite worried about Gamora's delay in contacting them, an to be honest, he is worried too, but still tries to reassure him and distract him.
"Give her a bit more time, she might be negotiating with that man still." he says, slightly disturbed by the involvement of the stranger. He knows that it is a good strategy and that he has nothing to be jealous about, but still... he just doesn't like the man, even if he doesn't know him.

Peter acquiesces and tries to keep calm, but as another hour passes with no sign of Gamora or any of the others (their comms ring and ring and no one replies), there is no way they can stay put any longer. They have to do something.

They sneak back to the Milano, even if they know that tactically it is not the smartest idea. They have no other option, short of barging into the Imperial Palace and demanding an audience with princess Helenai, which would be even more stupid and suicidal. Ronan curses against his lack of forethought for having left his labyrs on the ship. He has the impression that he will need it. He'll have to make do, he thinks.

In the end, he does not.
As soon as they arrive at the Milano, they get surrounded by a rather numerous detail of Spartoi security officers armed with plasma rifles, whose CO informs him and Peter that they are under arrest.
Ronan tenses up for a fight. Their chances are relatively poor, but they would improve if he could just snap the CO's neck and steal his rifle before the rest of them realise the danger. He takes a deep, steadying breath and starts to let himself slip into a sia-trance state.
Peter's fingers slide against the inside of his wrist, startling him out of his concentration.
"Not now, bluebell... Keep it for later." the Terran whispers in Kree.

"Alright, we surrender. No one needs to get hurt. - he adds in a much louder voice and in Trader's, turning to the guards - If you could just lead us to princess Helenai, I am sure we can fix this in no time." he adds, looking his most honest and helpful. He is a lovable scoundrel, that he is.
"You are not in the position to make any demands." the CO says, as it was obvious, then barks something in Spartoi to his underlings.
He and Peter get clapped in irons, which was quite obvious too, and led away, into the darkened rear compartment of a police vehicle.
"I hope you do have a plan, Peter." Ronan comments quietly.
"Don't worry, bluebell, I always do." the Terran replies.

The guards shove them in a cell, somewhere in the city, he thinks. He has been paying attention to the twists and turns of the vehicle's progress and to the timings. They are most likely still in Lakedaimon, and not very far from the center of the city. He wishes he had spent more time memorising the city plan. If he had, he'd have a better estimate of their position the darkness of the police vehicle and the hoods they have shoved on their heads to lead them to the cell, even the mild light of the cell blinds him for a moment, adding to his disorientation
"Hey guys! We thought you'd never come!" a voice greets them with sarcasm. It is Rocket. He never thought he would say it, but he is relieved to hear the Raccoon's voice.
Something launches itself at him.
"I am Groot!" the plant-child exclaims in relief, trying to wrap himself around Ronan and Peter at the same time, very nearly making them stumble in his desperate need for reassurance.
"It's alright, little one. - Peter says softly - We're good."Ronan blinks and manages to look around. Rocket and Groot, Drax, and Gamora, the latter two slightly worse for the wear, but still alive, still whole. They are all there. He feels like slumping to the floor in relief, except that he notices an extra person, sitting in a corner in dejection.
A Spartoi, with a golden tan and dark hair."What is he doing here, exactly?" Ronan asks, turning towards Gamora.
"They caught us together. - she replies with a shrug - I think they were keeping him under surveillance after, well..." she explains, waving a hand in lieu of completing the sentence.
"That is unfortunate." Ronan comments ruefully. That also meant that they had been watching the ship since the day before.
Thankfully the Spartoi guards didn't follow them to the guest-house. Getting slapped in cell with a man who had lain with his lovers was embarrassing enough, but getting arrested during intimate activities would have been much worse."That is an understatement if I have ever heard one, fellow! - the Spartoi comments - The sex was amazing, but I would have declined if I knew you were terrorists!" he protests.
"Ah, that's what they are saying! Well, it is not true. - Peter protests - None of us has committed any acts of terrorism in the last year, at least!" he adds.
"Make it a year an a half." Gamora corrects him.
"A year, seven months and two days, by the Standard Galactic Calendar." Ronan chimes in, disentangling himself from Groot.
Rocket guffaws without restraint.
"You've been counting the days!" he exclaims, between bouts of laughter.
Ronan blushes and shrugs.
"I was hoping for an anniversary cake. Not cooked by you, though." he retorts sarcastically.
"I will cook it, if it is so important for you, comrade." Drax intervenes, obviously missing the sarcasm. He really means it too, and Ronan doesn't feel it in him to correct him.
"Damn right, Drax! - Peter comments, winking and wrapping an arm around Ronan's shoulders - We should have done that at the proper time. I don't know how we could have forgotten it!" he adds.
"I think we were a bit busy kicking butts on Gramosia." Rocket offers.
"I am Groot." Groot interjects. Of course he had remembered. He is a very caring being."You are all crazy! - the Spartoi exclaims - And you are... or were terrorists! Ah, this will teach me to pick up hot barbaroi couples in a tavern!" he laments.
"Actually, I am the only one who has ever been accused of terrorism." Ronan corrects. Admitting one's fault is the first step to atonement, they say.
"That's not true. I have been too." Gamora protest.
"No, not really. - Ronan objects - I have read your rap sheet and it said multiple counts of murder and grievous bodily harm, but no terrorism." he explains.
Gamora's expression flits between relief and disappointment. "Ah, well, if it is so..." she comments quietly.
He and Peter sit down on the floor next to her, sandwiching her in between them. That should tell the Spartoi everything he needs to stranger squeals a little, backing away even farther and crossing his arms on his chest.
"You are nothing but a bunch of criminals!" he accuses.
"Nah, we're bounty hunters. - Rocket retorts - Seriously guys, did you really pick up this wet blanket?" he adds, turning towards Peter.
The Terran shrugs, but thankfully does not comment.
"So when you three disappeared last night, it wasn't to screw like there was no tomorrow?!" Rocket insists, pointing at where he, Ronan and Gamora are sitting.
Ronan feels like he could die in embarrassment.
"It must have been, comrade. They have been courting for a while." Drax explains, showing a remarkable amount of insight and making everything much worse all at the same time."So you were also cheating on your boyfriend!" the Spartoi exclaims in disapproval, finishing it off with a string of mutterings in his own language.
"I wasn't their boyfriend at the time." Ronan feels compelled to add, in an unwarranted attempt to defend Peter and Gamora's virtue.
"But I bet you are now! - Rocket butts in - You finally got laid! We should have a party, when we get out of here."
Mortified doesn't quite cover how Ronan is feeling now. Rocket has the knack for saying the wrong thing at the right time and between him and Drax they are making the whole experience a right ordeal."Alright, people! Let's can this for the moment!" Peter instructs, a bit desperate. For once, he looks as embarrassed as Ronan feels.
"Seriously, this is not the right moment to discuss our sex life!" he continues, and as if on cue, the door to the cell opens, letting in a detail of Spartoi guards. A force-field activates across the cell, hemming them in and providing a nice antechamber for the guards to stand in safely.
Ronan would bet that it is either designed to block low-speed impacts only or one-way. If the guards decide to shoot them with those plasma rifles, the force-field will not block the bolts. Now he understands how the proverbial fish must feel in that bloody barrel...The guards part in front of the door, and in waltzes none other than princess Helenai, tailed by a tall, purple-skinned Shi'ar man and a graceful Shi'ar girl, prince Gladiator and princess Vesta, no doubt.
"What are they doing on Spartax?" Ronan muses to himself.
The Guardians have stopped bickering and are standing, ready to do whatever it takes to get out of there alive. Only the unpleasant Spartoi man is still curled on the newcomers take a long, assessing look at the six of them, and finally princess Vesta speaks.
"I have to say, good-sister, they don't look so menacing as you told us. - she comments airily - Those two are even rather cute." she adds, waving a hand in Rocket and Groot's direction.
Groot is obviously delighted by the attention and waves his upper branches in salute with an enthusiastic "I am Groot!", much to Rocket's exasperation.

"Don't let the appearances deceive you, sister. - prince Gladiator interjects - That man is Ronan, formerly Supreme Commander of the Accusers, a man even I wouldn't want to meet in battle, and that is Gamora, one of Thanos' assassins." he points out.

Ronan cannot help but grin at the idea that the proud prince if Shi'ar is scared of him.
"Hey! I'm dangerous too!" Rocket protests, and Ronan can distinctly hear Peter hit his forehead with his palm.
"Thanks, Rocket, really!" he hisses."You keep interesting companies, brother." Helenai finally spits, loading the word with as much spite as she can. Her blue eyes, so bright against her dark skin, bore into Peter's face.
Peter gives her a goofy grin.
"They drive me around the bend, but at least I never get bored." he replies irreverently.
"Is that your sister?!" both Rocket and Drax exclaim at the same time.
Peter nods, much to Helenai's chagrin. "Half-sister. I just figured out this morning. - he explains - Actually, Ronan figured out." he adds with a nod in the Kree's direction.
"You lie smoothly, half-breed. You claim you didn't know, and yet you are here, on Spartax." she declares haughtily.
"We wouldn't be here if someone had not sent mercs after my hide. - Peter retorts - I tend to take it personally when people try to kill me." he adds with a hard glint in his eyes."Their mission was not to kill you, but to take you in custody. - she replies with no emotion - Even half-breed, and illegitimate as you are, you could be a threat to my claim and to the peace in this quadrant." she explains disdainfully.
Ronan feels himself bristle at her words, but Peter lays a hand on his arm and squeezes gently, signalling for him to keep quiet.
"Gods, I am moved by your brotherly love, sis... - the Terran comments - You are pissing at the wrong tree, though. I can't care less about your throne. I don't want to be king. I would be totally pants at it! I can barely manage our little bounty-hunting outfit!" he explains.
"That's true. - Rocket intervenes - Him and book-keeping don't agree. Do you remember when we had to ration even the toilet paper for nearly a month because we had run out of money, last year?" he adds cheerfully.
There is a general murmur. Of course they do. It is likely that they will never be able to forget.
"Hey! That was a one-off mistake!" Peter protests, and Gladiator look genuinely baffled and quite speechless. Ronan stifles a chuckle. They'd better get used to the feeling.
Princess Vesta, instead, is giggling quietly and obviously finds the whole situation hilarious.
"Enough! - Helenai thunders - I don't believe you! You are a thief, a scoundrel, a lowly mercenary..."
"I might be, but at least I am honest about it, and, what's more, I like my freedom. - Peter chimes in - I want to spend my good-for-nothing life going on adventures, not sitting on an uncomfortable chair looking serious. I just wanted to know who was after my blood. Now I know, and if you agree to leave me the fuck alone, I'll stop inconveniencing you with my lowly presence in no time. We have places to be, asses to kick... You know, lowly mercs-y things..." he explains, but his cheerful façade is starting to gives him a perplexed look.
"You don't want to claim your heritage?" she asks.
"Nope. I wouldn't know what to say to our father apart that he was a total asshole to leave my mum alone with a kid in Middle-of-Nowhere, Texas. - he replies - I imagine he was busy being an Emperor and stuff, but he had a frikkin' spaceship, and he knew his way, so he could have at least checked in us from time to time. But no. Not once, not even when my mum was dying of cancer. I suppose he didn't give a shit about us." he says sharply.
Ronan discreetly lays a hand on the small of his back and Gamora presses closer too. Consciously or not, all the Guardians are closing in around Peter, showing him their support. They know that this is Peter's weak spot and those people have managed to hit hard and unapologetically."It is fair enough, because I don't give a shit about him either. I already have a father, and his name is Yondu Udonta, captain of the Ravagers. - Peter declares with open hostility, his voice rising in volume and pitch - He might be a lowly merc, and a total dick at times, and not my biological father, but he raised me. He was there when I needed him." he nearly yells, and, at this point in their relationship, Ronan knows that he is on the verge of breaking down. He sees it in the liquid shine of his eyes, in the clenching of his fists, hears it in the brittle, angry sound of his voice and the harsh rythm of his recoils a little, looking uncomfortable, and Ronan feels like he wants to hit both her and Gladiator, for standing there with their sanctimonius expressions and looking down on Peter without knowing the first thing about him, for calling him half-breed and bastard and trying to humiliate him. He doesn't deserve this."Oh, by the God and the Goddess, good-sister, stop this! - Vesta explodes, looking on the verge of tears as well - He is saying the truth! It is not him! It is not them! We got the wrong people!" she wails, hiding her face in her hands.
"The wrong people for what?" Rocket asks. He is very upset too, his fangs are showing and his fur is standing on end on his neck.
Helenai hesitates, looking first at her intended and then at Vesta, then sighs.
"We have received intelligence about a conspiracy to prevent our marriage. - she reveals - We were informed that it was your doing." she adds.
"It would have stood to reason if you had wanted to take the throne for yourself." Gladiator adds in her support.
"But he doesn't. I can feel it." Vesta protests. Is she some sort of sensitive, Ronan asks himself."She is right. - Peter declares, wiping his face with the back of his hand - Marry, have kids, reign. I can't care less! Gods, I have never been within two light-years from here before yesterday... Do you need a written statement to get the message that I don't give a fuck about whatever right I might have to the throne?!" he shouts, and with that he breaks down, starting to wraps his arms around Peter and lets him sob into the collar of his jumper. He remembers what he had said about being verbally abused and bullied because he was the son of an unmarried woman, about how his Terran relatives didn't support him but blamed him, labelled him a problem child and foretold for him a future of crime and destitution, all for a sin not his own.
To have those righteous royal scions re-enact the whole farce must be unbearable. It is no surprise that he has broken down, but it does not matter, because him, Gamora and the Guardians are there to shore him up and protect him.
Ronan stares down both Helenai and Gladiator, daring them to say anything, to belittle Peter for his pain. He'll find a way of getting through that force-field and break their faces if they do, no matter how."I... I just want this to end. I can't deal with it... - Peter sobs and Gamora hugs him from behind, plastering herself against his back - I thought I could, but I can't... I just can't. It's... it's too much. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." he adds, as if he had to justify himself.
"It's not your fault, meri. You didn't do anything wrong." Ronan whispers, petting his hair to calm him down and try to prevent himself from exploding at the same time."You have no proof of any wrongdoing on his part, just vague hearsay. You are going to release us from this bloody pen." he declares in his coldest, angriest tone, turning towards Helenai and the Shi'ar.
"I had a duty of precaution to protect my birthright and the nascent peace between my people and the Shi'ar." the princess protests.
"You would have protected it better had you investigated your sources more thoroughly instead of reacting in panic!" Ronan growls, seeing red."They nearly killed Gladiator! - Helenai retorts, equally angrily - What was I supposed to do?! I want this war to end! I want to marry the man I love! I wasn't going to let a stranger take it all away just because he had the right sort of genitalia!" she shouts, and when Gladiator puts an arm around her shoulders, she too breaks down and buries her face against his chest, shoulders shaking with sobs.
Ronan loses a bit of his steam upon seeing it. He has been trained to think rationally and strive to be always impartial, but, now that Peter is hurting, it is quite hard to see the Spartoi princess' reasons. It would be easy to be self-righteous and impulsive."I am Groot! I am Groot! I am Groot!" Little Groot chimes in, his high, argentine voice cutting through the argument, and unsurprisingly, he is the only one who has conserved goodwill and perspective.
"You are right, Groot, it would be a solution." Gamora admits with a sigh.
"What did the plant say?" Gladiator asks.
"He has said that we should all sit down and talk, instead of shouting. - Rocket explains - I am all for shouting though, because you two are a right royal couple of arseholes, pun fully intended." he adds viciously.
"Rocket!" Gamora chides, but only half-heartedly."I am Groot!" Groot insists, crossing his branches over his trunk and tapping a root on the floor, mildly irritated at having his argument derailed.
"That too, comrade. - Drax intervenes, nodding in agreement - He hypothesizes that the real culprit might have planted false rumors to point you towards Star-Lord. Thus, he would have managed to distract you from his trail." he explains, as if it was natural. Among the Guardians, Drax took the longest to start understanding Groot, but now he captures nuances like only Rocket can do, while the rest of them usually grasp only the general gist of his utterances."I am Groot!" the plant-child concludes.
Rocket sighs. "Why do you always have to be so sensible, buddy? - he asks, shaking his head with a rueful smile - Of course it would help to compare notes! I want to find out whose arse I'm going to have to bust for organising this ungodly mess!" he adds.

"Yes, please, brother! Please, good-sister! - Vesta chimes in, wiping tears from her face - Let's sit down together and talk without haste. I sense a great evil behind all of this, someone who would love nothing better than to turn the residual hostility between our peoples into deeply entrenched hate, and to watch us destruct each other until no one is left standing and death reigns above all." she explains, her eyes wide and unfocused, as if she is seeing something beyond what everyone else could perceive.

She turns that otherworldly gaze towards Ronan and the Kree has the impression that she is trying to tell him something, to make him understand some fundamental truth that she has glimpsed.

Ronan cannot help but think back on the history of his own people. There were attempts at peace, during the first years of the war with Xandar. Embassies had been exchanged, progress had been made. A truce had even been agreed upon, but then the Kree representatives had been assassinated on Xandar Prime, and some Xandarian prisoners had been killed in their cells on Hala by rogue agents, and retaliations had escalated into higher and higher levels of cruelty and body count, and the war had continued on for three generations and nearly ended with the total destruction of Xandar by his Vesta trying to tell him that their war too had been engineered by an external agency?
That someone has been sitting to the side and watching his people and the Xandarians kill each other for nearly a century like it was a pleasant show? That all the death and destruction, that all the pain and the loss, on both sides, can be laid at someone's feet? That someone could be accused and made to pay for all of that?Ronan looks at Gamora over Peter's head, and somehow she understands. Who is the one being in this corner of the Universe that above all desires nothingness and revels in destruction, who wishes for Death to reign on everything that exists?
"Thanos..." Gamora whispers, her eyes wide in realisation.
"Yes, Thanos." Ronan confirms. Instigator of all evil, corrupter of civilisations, father of wars. Now it all makes can imagine that mad tyrant sitting on his throne, pushing and tweaking, influencing or coercing someone here and someone there, twisting minds, corrupting hearts, engineering large-scale slaughter for his pleasure.
How many more wars did he have a hand in? How many billions of deaths can be laid at his door?Well, no more, Ronan declares. Not a single life more on Spartax or Shi'ar, not one in the whole Universe.
Now their self-imposed mission is ever more vital.
Thanos has to be stopped once and for all, made to finally meet what he desires most.
It will not immediately cure the Universe from all evil, but it will be a start. It would be a breath of freedom for all, an occasion to set enimities aside and to make a fresh start.
"You are going to die by the edge of Keenblade, you purple-skinned necrophile." Ronan vows quietly.