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 language, oecumenic rituals, female-centric rituals, gender equality overtones, sarcasm and, especially triggering, violence, gore and torture with overtones of sexual abuse.
If you feel uncomfortable with any of these themes, you might want yo consider skipping this chapter.
Things are heating up on Spartax Prime.
Enjoy, and please don't shout at me!
Finally Helenai makes her entrance in the Temple, gliding down the nave hand in hand with Gladiator.
By tradition, she should have been walked to the altar by her father, a veil on her head and pretending to be shy and unwilling so that she would look chaste and modest.
For his daughter, however, Emperor J'son decided that he would give tradition a boot to the backside and let the two devise their own oecumenic ceremony. They have made it into a display of equality and unity.
They both look radiant, as if their happiness is so great that their physical bodies cannot contain it and it spills out of them in a shimmer of light.
Helenai is dressed in a long, flowing dress of the brightest red, like freshly spilled Spartoi blood, her head uncovered and proudly held up. She is a princess and a victorious general, and she is willingly, eagerly going to her fate. Gladiator instead is wearing a toga of the purest white, with no tunic underneath, which makes his deep purple skin seem even more vibrant, and gives all the audience a lot of eye candy. The Shi'ar prince doesn't seem to mind the stares, and walks confidently at his fiancee's side, his feather crest perked up proudly.
Behind them, walks a group of children of different genders and species, all dressed in their traditional costumes, holding palm branches or throwing flower petals all around. Groot is with them, sporting coloured ribbons tied to his branches. A rather impressive crown of new leaves and flowers has appeared on his head. He looks over the moon with happiness and beams proudly as the nuptial cortege passes next to the benches where the Guardians are sitting.
Bride and groom stop at the top of the nave and separate for a moment. Helenai glides towards her father and her siblings, while Gladiator goes to his family. They kneel in almost perfect unison, to receive the blessing of their families, then stand again and walk back towards the centre of the nave, and then on again, to kneel at the feet of their intended's parents and get their blessing too before reuniting at the center of the Temple.
"It is time, sisters!" Majestrix Lilandra of Shi'ar proclaims, standing from her seat and clapping her hands together.
All over the Temple, several highborn women stand as well, and walk towards the altar, linking hands with the others as they reach them.
From the Xandarian delegation it is Nova Prime; from Spartax, J'son's Great Royal Wife; from the ranks of the Skrull, the huge and decrepit Dowager Emperess R'tha; from Asgard, a young woman in a suit of ceremonial armour; from Centauri, an adolescent princess all tattooed and dressed as a hunter, and then the Duchess of Gramosia, with her usual innocent smile, and more.
Guided by some sort of presentiment, Ronan turns towards the Kree delegation.
Pushing back her dark green hooded cloak, High Priestess Derdriyu stands up from the ranks of the Accusers among which she was hiding, and advances towards the altar with the help of her long white cane.
Her heavy, multilayered gown is so white that it seems to shine, and her long, black hair is unbound on her shoulders. There is a wide, estatic smile on her face as she joins the other women in a circle around the bride and groom.
Ronan feels a shiver run down his spine. This is a solemn, sacred moment and he feels blessed for being able to witness it.
"Crown Princess Helenai of Spartax! Prince Gladiator of Shi'ar! - Dowager Emperess R'tha calls out with her raspy, elderly voice - You have gathered us here, in front of the Goddess, to serve as her priestesses. What do you seek from her?" she asks.
"We seek to be joined in equal marriage." the two reply together.
"Have you come here of your own volition? Freely and without coercion?" the Centaurian princess asks in her high, clear voice.
"Yes!" the two confirm.
"Why do you seek this union?" the Duchess asks in turn.
"For duty?" the Majestrix and J'son's wife continue.
"For power?" Nova Prime insists sternly.
"We seek this union for love." they retort together.
"We seek this union so that our love, born on a battlefield, might unite our warring peoples, and build a lasting peace between them." Helenai adds.
"We seek this union so that our children, and the children of our children won't have to exchange their toys for weapons, or have their childhoods stolen by death and destruction." Gladiator continues.
They look at each other for a moment, and join their hands.
"We seek this union because it is what our heart desires, our reason demands, and our soul says it should be." they proclaim.
"The Goddess hears you! - Derdriyu announces, lifting her arms and her face towards the heavens - She blesses your union and proclaims it Ma'at!" she declares.
A cheer invades the Temple, but with a simple, powerful gesture, the blind priestess orders silence.
"Is there anyone who dares to oppose the will of the Goddess?" the Asgardian shieldmaiden roars, raising her fist in the air.
Ronan does not need a big leap of imagination to realise that this is the moment when, if things were to go south, they would.
Predictably, they do.
Reality tears with an unpleasant ripping sound, discharging a man in the middle of the nave. Most of the guests freeze in surprise and near panic.
The gatecrasher is huge, a full head and shoulders taller than Ronan is, large in proportion, and nearly bursting with muscle, his brown skin is covered with scales and bony plates like a natural armour. In his hand there is a massive spiked mace and the stranger seems eager to use it, judging by the bloodthirsty expression on his brutish, prognate face.
"I do!" he growls arrogantly, tapping the head of his mace on the floor.
"Well, we don't actually give a shit, you know?!" Rocket exclaims, pulling out one of the guns he had hidden under the bench and taking a neat headshot at the unsuspecting invader. He shouldn't have assumed that everyone would be too scared to react. He shouldn't have overlooked the small guys. Well, his bad, Ronan thinks.
It's not one of Rocket's biggest guns, but his aim is true and the distance to the target is very short. The big man's head splatters all over the floor and the guests in a reasonably sized radius, among a chorus of yells and shrill screams.
"Oh, well, that solves it!" Dowager Emperess R'tha comments, clapping her bony hands together with almost childish glee.
"W-what just happened?!" Derdriyu asks, clearly shocked, vainly twisting her head around in an attempt to gather her bearings in the confusion.
"It is better that you haven't seen it, trust me. - Nova Prime comments, looking nauseated - Let's wrap this up, quickly, before more come through!" she urges.
"I... what?! What is going on?!" Derdriyu stammers. She seems to be totally panicking and Ronan can imagine why. All this confusion and the explosion... It must feel more than a little like the day of the Great Fire.
"Ah, for goodness' sake! I'll do it then! - Nova Prime exclaims - In the name of the Goddess, I declare you joined in marriage. Now let's get the hell out of here!" she adds, turning towards the royal couple.
Helenai and Gladiator shrug and retrieve their weapons from under the altar.
"Let's go kill some of those bastards, husband." Helenai proposes.
Gladiator grins. "A woman after my own heart..." he comments.
Among much consternation, the two run back to the nave, to help the defense.
In the Temple the confusion is increasing by the second as people start demanding for explanations, and declare their outrage and unfounded suspicions.
The Kree delegation stands, as do the Xandarians, the Asgardians, and, obviously, the Skrull.
All over the Temple, many concealed weapons are drawn and the appointed guards immediately start evacuating the crowds. The Guardians take up their weapons, ready to intervene where needed.
"My guests! I am afraid the ceremony will have to be cut short! - Emperor J'son apologises, pulling out a pair of guns that would make Rocket proud - Please follow the instructions of the guards and evaucuate swiftly." he instructs. Thankfully, they have planned for a contingency like this.
The rift opens again, in multiple places at the same time, spewing forth blind, sinewy creatures that start attacking whoever is closer, keeping guards and guests engaged on several fronts.
One of them opens on the far side of the altar. A creature appears, right behind Derdriyu and Nova Prime. Ronan was waiting for it to happen and is moving before anyone else can react, holding Keenblade in both hands. He leaps and moves his labyrs in an arc. A red crescent of energy shoots from the edge of the blade, flying at full speed towards the creature and nearly slicing it in half.
He lands nearly on top of it, and intercepts the second creature even before it really emerges from the portal, hacking it into pieces, only to be immediately confronted by a third and a fourth creature.
"Lads! Nechtan! Euan! - he calls out towards his former subordinates as he fights - Get the ladies out of here! Now!"
Driven by the force of habit, the Accusers rush to carry out his orders, seemingly forgetting that he is nothing but a haaq and a degenerate. Derdriyu and the Duchess gratefully let the Kree shepherd them into their ranks. Unfortunately, not everyone is so compliant.
"What the hell is going on here?" Nova Prime asks indignantly, avoiding Euan's admittedly feeble attempts at getting hold of her.
"Thanos." Ronan replies, trying to be civil even if he can't stand the sight of her, and he really hasn't got any time for a conversation. Two young officers have momentarily relieved him from the defense of the gap, batting the creatures away with their ceremonial swords, and for the moment the way out of the Temple from the altar area is clear. They need to hurry.
"He wants to restart the war between Spartax and Shi'ar. And maybe even the war between us." Ronan explains as briefly as he can, faced with her sceptic expression.
The evacuation is well under way in the rest of the Temple, and, thanks to the coordinated effort of all defenders, guests and hosts alike, only a few creatures are still standing, but he has the feeling that this must have been just the first wave. They need to get all non-combatants out of the way before Tanos sends in the big hitters.
"And why should he?" Nova Prime objects. He can almost see the gears spinning as fast as possible in that brilliant, perfectly coiffed politician's head. She must be trying to find an angle to the situation, aiming to discover an intrigue even if there are none.
"Because he is the Mad Titan, the lover of Death. He doesn't need a bloody reason! - Ronan growls - Now, please, get yourself to safety and let the professionals solve this." he adds dryly. It is quite satisfying to be able to shut her up.
"I'm not going anywhere with these people! Where are my men?" she protests.
Right in that moment, another portal opens close to where the Xandarian delegation was sitting. The Nova Corps officers are immediately sucked in the fight along with a few Superguardians.
"Down there." the Asgardian shieldmaiden points out.
"The blue chap here is right, dearie. - Dowager Emperess R'tha intervenes - Either get a weapon and fight, or get the hell out of the way. You'll end up getting yourself and others killed." she warns. The Skrull matron has morphed her hands into huge fists of rock and is eagerly looking around for something to hit.
"Skrulls..." Ronan thinks, almost fondly, returning to business.
"Give me a gun." Nova Prime orders.
Ronan, who was busy shouting to some Kree officers to secure the side door that is their closest exit route, turns sharply towards her.
"Are you serious?!" Ronan yells. It is common knowledge that she was never a soldier, but rather a diplomat and a strategist.
"I will evacuate, but I will not stand unarmed among those Kree." Nova Prime insists.
Ronan steps back from the fray for a moment and takes a deep breath to calm himself down. It doesn't work very well.
"Armed or unarmed, I could snap your weak Xandarian neck with my bare hands... - he hisses, intentionally crowding her - Any of the lads could. But they won't, because they are not assassins, because there is a treaty between our people and this would not be Ma'at. We take things like this seriously, madam." he adds sternly.
"You, mari-anni! - he calls out to a young Kree man that looks little more than a cadet - Are you any good with that sword of yours?"
"Top of my class, sir!" the youngster replies proudly.
"Give your gun to Madam Rael and get her to safety. Defend her at all costs, as if she was your kin." Ronan orders, feeling his heart clench a bit at those words. This is necessary. This will show her that she was wrong in believing the Kree a savage, brutal people.
The young warrior nods eagerly. "Yessir! Of course, sir!" he exclaims, slipping his gun in Nova Prime's hands and his arm around her shoulders protectively.
"Come on, mut-i. - he says gently, using the traditional Kree honorific for one's female elders - You'll be safe with us."
Ronan catches a last glimpse of her as she stumbles away, led by the kid, then shoves any thought of her out of his mind, and none too soon, because a new crop of portals pops into existence, spewing a new wave of invaders, only this time they are armed paramilitary troops and a few people with non-standard equipment. It looks like the big hitters have arrived.
"Ha! This is how a marriage feast should be!" Emperor Kl'rt of the Skrull exclaims, diving into the fray alongside his terrifying mother. Ronan barely pays any mind to him. His attention is concentrated on one of the invaders coming out of the portals.
He cannot really tell what the newcomer is supposed to be. Its entire body is made of flames, and as soon as it warps fully into the Temple, it starts shooting fiery projectiles at the defenders all around him. Its aim is rather loose and the drapes hanging from the walls catch on fire.
The smell of charred meat, overheated stone and smoke is enough to make Ronan nauseous and shaky.
He is rather terrified at the perspective of having to fight against that thing, but the newcomer seems to be aiming straight for him.
"Ronan of the Kree! Betrayer! - he shouts with a hissing, crackling voice - Thanos sends his greetings!" he adds, raising a hand and throwing a ball of fire straight at him.
Ronan is so paralyzed with terror that he barely manages to throw his arms over his face for protection before it hits him, sending him flying into the wall at his back, behind the altar. Keenblade clatters to the floor next to him as lands and starts rolling desperately on the ground, trying to put out the flames that have caught to his clothes.
"It burns! It burns!" his mind shrieks hysterically.
He needs out of there! He can't face this! He can't!
He is so much in panic that he barely sees the other intruder until it is too late.
Some sort of force field snaps around him, pinning him in place, upright and spread-eagled, smouldering clothes and all.
Still in the grip of panic, Ronan struggles uncoordinately, trying to break free, trying to get away from this new enemy and the fire, but his efforts are useless.
"Fire is your weak spot, isn't it, betrayer?" a quiet voice says, close to his ear. The man slides into his field of view, pale, thin and leathery. Ronan recognises him from Gamora's description: Everyman.
"An easy one at that... It must be a souvenir from the Great Temple..." he says almost sweetly as he leans towards him, but there is no warmth in his eyes or expression, only a cold, considering look, as if he is trying to find the best way to disassemble a piece of machinery.
"Such a tragic story... - he comments, pressing a hand to his thin chest in mock-compassion - And guess what? History is going to repeat itself today..." he adds with unabashed glee.
The man snaps his fingers and another portal opens, disgorging a second fire - creature, right behind where Peter and Gamora are engaged against a group of invaders, and then a third, and a fourth.
Ronan can only look in horror as they close in around his loved ones, blazing, and hissing, and spewing streams of flame.
Gamora's dress catches on fire, the flames blaze, and her skin blackens and curls away from her cybernetics, and she screams, and screams, and Peter tackles her to the ground, trying to extinguish the flames, but one of the fire-creatures grabs him by the front of his tunic and lifts him up as easily as if he was a child.
It laughs, hissing like a teakettle, and jabs a finger into one of his sky-blue eyes. It melts down Peter's face, and he shrieks in agony, and struggles against its unyielding, fiery hold, kicking and punching, vainly trying to break the creature's hold on him, but only manages to burn himself on its limbs, and the creature lifts its hands again, slowly, lazily moving its finger closer to Peter's remaining eye...
"NO! NO!" Ronan screams, struggling madly, trying to find a way, any way of breaking free of the force field.
It can't... It can't be happening.
"This is not real. Not real..." he repeats to himself, over and over. Tears stream down his face and cloud his vision, but he can still see them burn, he can still see them die.
"Yes... - the man hisses - Your loved ones are dying, and you can't do anything about it... Exactly like last time..." he whispers in his ear, his words tinged by cruel glee.
"Look, betrayer... Watch to the end." he says, and Ronan can't help but obey. His eyes refuse to close, even if he'd rather tear them out of his head than watch the fire-creatures kill his loved ones slowly, agonisingly, with obscene glee.
"Those are your people, are they not? - the man continues, pointing to where a knot of Kree warriors is defending one of the exits - They fight bravely. Very commendable." he comments, pleasantly enough.
"As soon as my pets are done with your lovers, I'll trigger the fire-bombs hidden in the rafters. - the man continues smugly - We'll watch as they all die, betrayer, and then we'll go somewhere more intimate, just you and I... somewhere special... and I will burn your skin off your flesh, inch by inch, until you beg for sweet death..." he whispers heatedly, licking a trail of tears off the Kree's face with his cold, wet tongue. His frigid, bony hands rip the front of his shirt open almost to the waist and slowly run up and down his torso, in a horrid parody of lust.
Ronan is too shocked by the mention of fire-bombs, plural, hidden in the Temple to even be disgusted by what the man is doing to him, or worried about the certainty of torture.
It only makes the man even more giddy with sadistic glee, to the point that he starts tittering to himself.
"Ah, yes... Did you really think my master would have hedged all his bets on a simple frontal assault? - he asks - Bravo to you and your friends to have anticipated our surprise, but it's not going to make any difference." he reveals.
"My troops are keeping your people bottled in here, you see? All those brave warriors... all those kings and rulers... They will all die here. - he declares extatically - The Universe will spiral into chaos, and my master will pick off the remnants. Armed with the Infinity Gems, he will bring an end to the senseless game we call life!" he concludes, revelling in his vision of destruction and death.
"And you'll be there, watching, as everything dies... Isn't it wonderful?" the man asks, whipping out a small blowtorch from under his coat and turning it on.
The flame burns a light, nearly transparent shade of blue, and it is so hot that when Everyman presses it to the bare skin of his chest, Ronan doesn't feel its heat, or pain. He feels cold and a strange sort of numbness, even though he can smell his own flesh burn.
It takes a moment after Everyman moves the blowtorch away for him to register the terrible, nauseating pain.
He chokes on a scream, and Everyman starts tittering again.
"I know... I know... I shouldn't have. But I couldn't help myself! - he exclaims - You are so tempting... so proud and brave..." he whispers, in what he must perceive as a seductive tone.
"I'll reduce you to a mewling, begging wreck. - the man growls, abruptly switching mood as he digs his fingers into the raw, burned flesh on his chest - We're going to have so much fun together..."