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 language, some bad attempts at humour, some speciesism, some homophoby and quite a bit of sarcasm.
Enjoy, and please don't shout at me!
On the big day, they sit on the side of the bride in Lakedaimon's temple of the of the Thousand Faces, dressed in newly tailored finery.
Peter's imperial father has spared no money to make sure that they looked like they belonged at such a gathering of royals and rulers.
Peter looks absolutely stunning in his traditional Spartoi knee-length, belted tunic and cloak, dyed with saffron and the finest purple that money can buy. He is sitting slightly away from the rest of them, next to his father and his gaggle of sisters, and even though Ronan knows he should look out for possible threats, his gaze keeps straying to him, to his long, bare legs and his smiling face.
Sitting at his side, Gamora is not less beautiful in a dark red dress, designed with the traditional costumes of her people in mind: high-waisted and strapless, with a long, wide skirt. Her two-toned hair is done up in a bun, leaving all her long, kissable neck and her shoulders bare. She has tried the dress earlier in the week and she can still high-kick someone's face off in that. It is just perfect for her.
Rocket looks almost refined in a well-fitting suit and even Drax is wearing a new pair of trousers and boots.
Even though Ronan is technically still just a retainer, the Emperor has provided clothes for him as well, and tailored in a surprisingly good approximation of traditional Kree dress robes, with loose trousers, a long-ish tunic and a longer, hooded coat, done in a thick, dark blue cloth with subtle red accents, a bit like the decorations on Keenblade. It is probably better made than any other set of dress robes that he had ever owned. Before his fall, he had hardly ever worn anything apart from his armour.
From the Kree delegation sitting not far away, some people stare his way, even though by tradition they should ignore him. There are some members of the Ruling Council and some officers, all without any war paint as befits a time of peace, but Cathair Fyiero is nowhere to be seen. Maybe he has decided that he had better things to do with his time than go to a royal wedding. Ronan has recognized a few faces among the delegates, but he has no intention of approaching them. Two sides can play at the game of passively-aggressively ignoring each other.
Sitting as far as possible from the Kree delegation among a gaggle of paper-pushers and a few Nova Corps officers in dress uniform, Nova Prime looks very irritated (like she has swallowed a turd, Rocket says), and often glares at the Guardians. Ronan does his best to ignore her as well and combs the crowds for signs of danger.
Loyal Spartoi and Shi'ar guards are posted throughout the temple, both in the area reserved to the authorities and in naves and plaza, with the explicit order to be on the lookout for troublemakers and party-crashers.
During the last two weeks, the Guardians have lent a hand to the security forces of both systems in ferreting out conspirators. They have made a few good catches, some of which likely to be linked to Thanos, but Ronan doubts that will be the end of it, and everyone seems to agree with his analysis.
They have planned for the worst, and the Guardians will be the last ring of defense around the bride and groom, along with the Shi'ar Pretorians and a small contingent from the Spartoi Sacred Battalion.
"I have spotted Nebula." Gamora announces quietly, nodding towards one side of the Temple.
It takes him a moment to find her himself, hidden behind the Asgardian delegation. She has grown her hair out, or worn a wig, so that her artificial eye is half-hidden by dark locks, and her long-sleeved dressy jumpsuit disguises her other cybernetics. The result is quite impressive and is turning a few eyes all around.
Nebula notices his gaze and smirks, striking a pose and blowing him a kiss.
"It looks like she is in a good mood..." Gamora whispers, then grabs him by the lapels of his coat and pulls him into a heated kiss.
Ronan emerges from it a bit breathless and probably sporting a silly grin. He still hasn't got used to that sort of thing and he doubts he ever will. Every time it happens, it feels like the first time, as magical and amazing. He wishes for it to remain so forever.
"Jealous?" he teases, feeling bold enough to trail a finger along her nape. She bites her lip and shivers almost imperceptibly. Ronan takes a mental note to tease her about that later.
"This was not for her benefit. Mostly. - Gamora retorts - It was for theirs." she adds, inclining her head towards the Kree delegation.
"They were staring. I just wanted to give them something to stare at. - she explains - They don't blush half as pretty as you, I have to say." she comments mischievously.
"Public displays of intimacy are not very common among the Kree." Ronan explains, and leans in for another kiss, struggling to keep himself from threading his fingers in her soft hair and ruining her hairdo.
"You are a wicked man. - Gamora whispers when they stop - Look at the way they are staring at us... It's like they've never seen two people kiss in their lives."
"Maybe not two people from different species. Mixed couples are very rare in the Empire. The Houses try to preserve their bloodlines. - Ronan explains - It used to make sense to me, before, but looking back at it now, it doesn't anymore. Love cannot really be planned or enforced. It just happens." he says, brushing her shoulders with his fingers once more.
Gamora lays a warm hand on his cheek and smiles softly.
"I love you too. - she replies - Ah, it looks like someone is coming to ask us to stop." she adds, none too thrilled.
One of the Kree delegates, an Accuser in a green and silver dress uniform, has stood up from his bench and is striding purposefully their way.
Ronan knows him, he used to be a junior officer under his command. His name is Nechtan. He was not a bad man, and not even one of the strictest traditionalists.
Nechtan stops in front of Ronan and Gamora and bows curtly.
"Lady Gamora of the Guardians - he greets - I formally request leave to speak with your haaq." he declares, giving Ronan a sidelong glance.
"I am afraid you will have to ask him if he wants to talk to you. - Gamora retorts without missing a beat - I am not playing Kymellian whispers so that you can keep on pretending that he doesn't exist." she adds belligerently.
Nechtan looks a bit out of his depth, uncertain about what to do next. He was probably relying on traditional practices to provide him with a frame of reference, and now he feels insecure without it. Ronan knows from experience how he must feel and decides to rescue him.
"Greetings, Nechtan of House Derwen. How can I help you?" he says, hiding a frustrated sigh.
Nechtan turns towards him with relief and embarrassment.
"I... I wish to talk to you." he says, omitting any form of greeting. Probably he had no idea of how to greet him in the first place.
"I hear you." Ronan declares, crossing his arms over his chest.
"In private." Nechtan adds, switching to High Kree.
"I have no secrets from the Guardians. If you wish to speak to me, it will be here. - Ronan retorts quietly but firmly, and in Trader's - And you might want to know that they understand High Kree. I have taught them." he adds dryly. He will take part in no games.
Nechtan looks at a loss for words and his gaze shifts to and fro between him and Gamora with slight alarm.
"Oh, for Pama's sake! - Ronan growls, standing up from the bench and grabbing Nechtan's elbow - Let's go. It will only be a minute." he adds turning towards Gamora and the others.
"Take your time. - Gamora tells him - Helenai will take a while more getting ready."
Ronan nods and drags his former underling a few steps away, into one of the chapels dotting the walls of the Temple. The guards let them through, they know Ronan to be one of their own for the day. The only witness to their conversation will be the statue of a goddess, caught in an eternal leap as she dances Spring into existence. It seems oddly fitting.
"What is so terribly embarrassing that you could not say it in front of the Guardians?" Ronan asks as soon as they are alone.
He realises is slipping back into the forbidding demeanour he used to keep when he was Supreme Accuser, and it takes him a conscious effort to stop himself. He doesn't know what game the Kree delegation is playing yet, if any game is being played at all. His reproach is not warranted, for now.
"A-are you alright?" Nechtan asks.
Ronan blinks in confusion for a moment.
"Yes, I am perfectly fine." he replies. Is Nechtan just concerned for his safety? The idea is heartwarming and irritating at the same time.
"Are they... the Guardians... treating you well?" Nechtan insists, refusing to look at him.
Ronan does sigh now, then regrets it.
For a haaq to be mistreated by non-Kree barbarians is what he would have expected before actually giving himself up to the Guardians. He cannot legitimately expect Nechtan to know any better. This is his chance to convince at least one Kree that they are missing out by closing themselves off from the rest of the Galaxy. But how can he even begin to explain himself?
"Have they... have they forced you?" Nechtan asks, blushing so hard that he must feel dizzy.
"I... I have seen you kiss that woman, and I you would not... you never..." he continues, trying to fill the silence but stumbling on his own words.
"I never kissed anyone before in my whole life, you mean?" Ronan concludes for him, resisting the impulse to roll his eyes.
"Precisely! And she is not Kree!" Nechtan adds.
"Which doesn't really make a difference. Not to me, at least. Not anymore." Ronan clarifies, much to his astonishment.
"I beg your pardon?!" Nechtan squeaks.
Ronan lays a hand on his shoulder and draws him closer.
"Listen, Nechtan. How long have you known me for?" he asks.
"Oh, years. Since I graduated as an Accuser and started working under you." Nechtan replies, happy about the change of subject.
"You might have not noticed, I expect that you have not, in fact, but for all those years, I have been constantly on the verge of snapping. - Ronan reveals softly - And then the treaty was signed and I just did." he adds matter-of-factly.
Nechtan looks at him in confusion, with wide green eyes.
"The Xandarians did terrible things to us, and it was not Ma'at, so I went on a private war and did terrible things to them and to other in search of revenge. - he continues - I was too broken to realise that my actions were not Ma'at in the eyes of Pama either, and too angry to realize that they would solve nothing."
"But the Great Fires? All those deaths? Would have you left them unpunished?" Nechtan asks, evidently shocked.
Ronan shakes his head.
"I am not saying this. I don't regret executing those pilots, because they were truly responsible of the crimes I had accused them of. That was Ma'at. - he declares tersely - But the Xandarian civilians? They were innocent, just as the victims of the Great Fires. Slaughtering them wouldn't have brought back our lost ones. It would have just caused more pain, more desperation." he adds.
Nechtan hesitates, then nods in understanding. He probably was not even born at the time of the Great Fires, but his House would have been affected, somehow, all the Houses had been. He had likely grown up with tales of pain and the ghosts of the dead hanging over his childhood. It makes him sad to think about it.
"When the Guardians took me in, I was well and truly lost. I had strayed so far from the Path of Pama that I could barely see how I could go back. - Ronan continues even more quietly - They helped me, Nechtan. They could have punished me and broken me further, it would have been within their rights, but they showed me support and compassion instead. They helped me find strength and meaning, so that I could fix myself." he reveals.
"And did you? Are you... like you were before? - Nechtan asked - You seem... different." he adds.
"I am. - Ronan admits - I have seen new places, met new people, experienced new things, and seen old things from a different perspective. I have changed, Nechtan. It is not a bad thing." he explains.
Nechtan grimaces slightly.
"Is it not? - he asks - You used to be a hero for our people. An example." he declares.
"Then you were taking the wrong example. - Ronan retorts dryly - I was an empty shell, propped up by duty and anger. I had given up on everything that makes life worth living. This is not what one should aspire to. This is not what Pama asks of us."
"And how would you know? You have been living among barbarians, far away from Pama's sweet voice!" Nechtan retorts haughtily.
"Pama does not reside just with the Kree. She is everywhere. - Ronan declares, shaking his head - Ma'at is one, throughout the Galaxies. All sentients have it in their hearts, and live by it, or try to. That is the only thing that matters. Everything else, sex, species, colour, is just window dressing to me now."
"Are you serious?!" Nechtan blurts out, quite shocked.
"I have been told that my sense of humour is lacking." Ronan retorts.
Nechtan gapes openly for a moment, then sets his jaw firmly.
"I suppose that makes sleeping with that woman easier." he quips sarcastically.
"Being in love makes it easy. It makes it right." Ronan retorts. The conversation is starting to get on his nerves.
"You let yourself fall for your captor?! - Nechtan comments, rather horrified - No, you can't have... I can't believe it. It must be Centaurian syndrome."
"No, it is not. It is real." Ronan declares, but Nechtan shakes his head in denial.
"No. This is not... this is not you. You need help. - he says with concern - It is not right, what they did to you. It is cruel." he adds with clear concern. It would be a nice sentiment, if there was anything to be concerned about. As things stand, Nechtan's refusal to accept that things are actually fine is just patronising and irritating.
"Nechtan, no. They didn't do anything to me. I fell in love with them because they make me happy, because they make me feel alive. - he says, grabbing the younger man by the shoulders and shaking him slightly - I don't need help. I don't need rescuing. Is it so bloody hard to understand?!" he practically yells at the end.
"T-them?" Nechtan repeats, a bit cowed, but not completely yet.
Ronan sighs and rubs a hand on his face. Maybe he should have avoided mentioning that detail, not out of shame, but because if it was hard to make his former underling accept his relationship with a non-Kree female, this is going to be even harder.
"Yes, them. - he soldiers on - I am in a relationship with Gamora and Peter, the one they call Star-Lord." he reveals and, as he should have imagined, Nechtan gapes in horror.
"B-but he is a man!" he stammers angrily.
"Oh, really? I had not noticed." Ronan quips, rolling his eyes.
Nechtan glares at him. Lack of sense of humour must be a shared Kree trait.
"Truly you have strayed far." he comments with a disapproving grimace.
"I don't have to justify myself to you, or to anyone. - Ronan retorts irately - This is how it is. Whether you like it or not, it is none of my concern." he concludes as icily as he can manage.
Nechtan looks like he is going to insist further, and Ronan is on the verge of doing something silly like belting him across the face until he gets some sense in that narrow mind of his, but thankfully two little royals waltz in unannounced, giving Ronan the perfect excuse to ignore him.
"Oh, here you are, good-brother!" prince Vulcan of Shi'ar exclaims. He is young enough that his feather-crest has not grown out yet and his little head is covered by the softest black down.
Hand in hand with him, as always, is princess Alethea of Spartax, Peter's youngest sister. The two have become nigh on inseparable ever since they first met, and people are already taking bets on how long it will take for a second royal marriage to take place.
"Gamora told us to tell you that Helenai is nearly ready. - the little girl announces, - She says you'd better hurry." she adds, pulling him by the hem of his coat.
Ronan finds himself smiling at the pair. They are so innocent and happy, oblivious of things like speciesism or bigotry.
If he ever had any doubt about why he is there in the Temple, doing what he is doing, looking at the two of them would instantly clear them away.
This is Ma'at. This is worth fighting for.
"As you command, my lady." he says cheerfully, letting the two children lead him out if the chapel.
Nechtan stays behind, looking completely baffled. Ronan feels a slight pang of regret for having failed to influence him at all, but as they say, you truly cannot teach colour to the blind. Some things have to be experienced to be understood.
"Is everything alright?" Gamora asks him in a whisper when he returns to his seat.
Ronan nods and sits at her side, linking his hand with hers.
"We might have given poor Nechtan permanent psychological scars." he declares sarcastically.
Gamora gives him a quizzical look.
"I think the three of us pretty much break all Kree sexual taboos at once. He couldn't handle it." he explains dryly, casting a quick glance at Peter, who catches it and beams.
"Did you tell him?" she asks, caught between worry and pleased surprise.
Ronan nods. "I have nothing to be ashamed of about our relationship." he declares.
"Doesn't it hurt you that they can't accept it?" she asks quietly.
"I knew it would be like that, merit. I went into this with eyes open. - he replies - I have no regrets."
"I am glad to hear that." Gamora comments with a satisfied smile.
Ronan smiles back. "My pleasure." he says, giving her a quick peck on the lips.