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.
Thanks to diarmour, thefreakoutsideyourwindow and for their reviews. I'm still feeling all warm and fuzzy inside about the compliments
This chapter is really long and is also the end of this arc. There is another completed arc waiting to be posted, plus at least two more that need to be written before we can sat "the end".
It's going to be a bumpy ride, so watch out, but don't worry too much, I like GRR Martin, but not so much. I like Victor Hugo better.
Warnings: angst, grief, politics, high-level diplomacy, some language, mentions of war crimes.
Enjoy, and please don't shout at me!
In the end, it's a bit of a miracle that they manage to get some breakfast and get ready in time.
Outside of the door, the rest of their crazy, messy family is waiting to walk with them to the Hall of the Council: Drax, Groot and Rocket, Loki and Nebula, Helenai and Gladiator. The whole lot of them.
Peter feels himself smiling and as he glances at Ronan, he notices an identical smile on his face.
Behind them, the security detail appears in the corridor.
It's a quartet of Kree Accusers in dark blue dress uniforms, armed as usual with big-ass maces and hammers. Their stern, young faces are streaked with paint in a pattern that looks remarkably like Ronan's old warpaint, but white instead of blood-coloured.
"What the hell does this all mean?" Peter asks himself.
"What are you doing here, lads? - Ronan asks, frowning in perplexity - I thought the Skrull Raiders were supposed to be on guard duty, today." he adds, with his trademark confused expression.
"They were." Shanleigh confirms, stepping closer. The Guardians part to let her through and she stops in front of Ronan, while the other three Accusers trail behind her.
"We asked them to allow us the honour of escorting you. They were gracious enough to grant us this boon. - she adds with obvious satisfaction - Will you allow us to stand by your side today, commander?" she asks, going down on a knee before him.
Ronan steps back, looking slightly afraid.
"Stand up, Accusers! Don't kneel before me! - he orders - I am no longer your commander, just a haaq. I brought dishonour on you all." he adds, looking first at them and then at the Guardians with a lost, confused look.
"Yes, you did. Even if your intentions were honourable, you brought shame on the Kree. - Shanleigh replies, without mincing words - But you redeemed yourself. You did penance, and fought isfet. You upheld Ma'at, and led us to victory at the Temple, like in the days of old. And yesterday, with your words you made us all proud. You brought great honour on yourself and on the Kree. For this we pay you homage." she explains.
Ronan blinks slowly. He opens his mouth to speak, but it looks like he can't find the words to express all the emotions that blend in his expression.
"Please, sir. Don't send us away. Let us do this for you. - Morthwyl, the youngest one, adds, all but kowtowing on the floor - You guided us through tough times, you were our rock, our strength. We took all of it for granted, we never realised that you needed us too. We let you fall when we could have shored you up. We failed you." he says, looking down in shame.
"It is not your fault..." Ronan manages to rasp, without even shedding a tear. It's a tough call.
Peter's sight is blurred by tears, and Gamora is squeezing his hand like crazy in the attempt to control herself.
"No, it is not. But that doesn't mean we don't regret it. - a darker-skinned guy called Euan insists - Let us make amends. Let us stand by you. Let us help, this time." he pleads.
Ronan shakes his head, tears trailing along his scars.
"I am no longer your commander. You can't stand by me as my underlings, or behind me like a honour guard." he insists, his voice a bit shaky but clear.
The Accusers' faces fall in dismay, and Peter finds himself wanting to tell Ronan to stop hurting himself and them, to stop being such an intransigent asshole. The words rise to his lips, but before he can pronounce them, Ronan speaks again.
"But we can stand together. Like equals, like comrades in arms." he declares.
He holds a hand out towards Shanleigh, and she takes it with no hesitation, letting him help her to her feet.
"I like your way better too. It would have been awkward to still treat you as my superior." she retorts with a grin.
"You are the new Supreme Accuser, aren't you?" Ronan asks, grinning back at her.
"I was the most senior Accuser left. And I learned from a worthy teacher." she confirms with a nod.
"How old are you?" Helenai asks. Shanleigh doesn't look very senior at all.
"Same age as him. - the Kree woman replies, nodding towards Ronan - But not all of us start our careers at fifteen." she adds.
"There are not many of us left. The Nova had the habit of concentrating fire on us during the war." the fourth guy explains. He is youngish, not much older than Morthwyl, who is still in his late teens, and paler than the rest. Peter cannot remember his name.
"That doesn't detract from your success. You deserve this position because you are good at this. - Ronan comments - And now you are the first woman in office since..."
"Since before the Ancients started monopolising the Ruling Council. - Shanleigh concludes for him - I am almost glad the Nova made us shut them down." she adds with a grimace.
According to what Ronan told him about Kree society, that is positively subversive, especially coming from the Supreme Accuser.
"Now we can make our own decisions, and find Ma'at for ourselves. - she continues - Oh, and by the way, we have reinstated you. Your name is back on the rolls." she reveals.
"Wow! - Peter exclaims, clapping a hand over Ronan's back - This is amazing, isn't it?" he adds, discreetly elbowing him to snap him out of another moment of astonished blankness.
"Why?" Gamora asks instead. Her voice is tense with anger. She must remember how badly Ronan had been struck by the discovery that he had been deleted from them in the first place.
"Because one cannot learn from history, if it is edited to please the people in charge at any given moment. - Euan jumps in - This has changed us. The Kree Empire will never be the same again. I'm not saying it is a bad thing, but it's undeniable. The future generations deserve to know how it came to be." he argues.
"You deserve to be remembered, comrade." Morthwyl butts in, laying a hand on Ronan's arm.
"So then why did you delete him in the first place? - Rocket asks, scratching an ear in puzzlement - You can't go around deleting and rewriting people from existence! This doesn't make any sense!" he protests.
"It was not our decision." Shanleigh retorts with a sigh.
"It was Fiyero." Ronan intervenes with certainty.
"The very same. - Euan confirms - It was another present he gave the Nova after he was made Head of the Ruling Council, to show them how good friends we were to them." he adds wryly.
"It did ease things up a lot. - the fourth guy intervenes - And as concessions go, it was painful, but not as harmful to our society as a whole as some of the things Dahun and his clique were trying to obtain. He was trapped in a bad situation, but at least he tried to spare us all from the worst, over and over." he adds, almost apologetic.
"You're right, Aodhfin, and that's why we sent him to jail on Xandar, instead of caving his head in, when we found him pocketing Xandarian money. - Shanleigh confirms - He did what he had to do, and now that we're even better friends with the Nova, we were finally able to do what is the right thing to do." she concludes.
"You have my most sincere gratitude, comrades. - Ronan finally replies - Whatever is my fate today, your words and your support mean much to me." he adds, dipping his head in a sketchy bow.
"I'd be surprised if Dahun's people had it their way, and I'm sure you and the Guardians can imagine why." Shanleigh retorts.
Ronan goes all blank again, and for a moment Peter fears that his unreasonable honesty will get the better if him and he'll confess everything, but he manages to get a grip on it, instead, and gives his successor and her men a totally confused look.
"What are you talking about?" he asks.
"You don't know?!" Morthwyl exclaims.
Ronan manages to keep looking confused and perplexed.
"What is it that I am supposed to know? - he retorts - Do you know?" he asks, turning towards the rest of the Guardians.
Peter shakes his head. "Not a clue, bluebell." he says, lying through his teeth.
The rest of them follow suit, shaking their heads and shrugging their shoulders in a chorus of "No", "Nope", and "No idea".
"Because justice always triumphs?" Drax offers.
Rocket guffaws. He is often the most cynical of the group.
"How are we supposed to know what your buddies think you should know?" he asks, shaking his head.
"So you really don't know? None of you?" Morthwyl insists, as perplexed as the rest of them.
"Yes. Well, no. - Rocket says, confusing even himself - We are positively ignorant." he declares.
Morthwyl looks like he is going to prolong the surreal conversation, but Shanleigh blocks him
"Enough of this! - she orders - If you don't know now, you soon will. You're bound to receive a big surprise, that is certain." she adds with a smirk.
"Now we should go. - she continues - We shouldn't leave the Council waiting."
There is general assent on this point.
"Yeah, let's go, before they think we did a runner." Rocket declares.
"Wait! Just a second. - Euan intervenes - Put some of this on, if you please, o Guardians." he instructs, handing over to Peter a small, round metal box. The lid is inscribed with the now-familiar crazy little pictures of High Kree script and he unscrews it to reveal some thick white paste.
"What is it?" Rocket asks, peering inside. He sniffs it and snorts. It smells strongly like some sort of herb, a green smell, strangely at odds with its colour.
"Ritual paint. For these." Euan explains, pointing at the white markings on his own face.
"And what do they mean? Why should I wear them too?" Rocket insists.
"Do you always ask so many questions, furry little warrior?" Aodhfin retorts with a mixture of amusement and exhasperation.
Rocket gives him a dirty look, but thankfully Euan's explanation attracts his attention and makes him drop the subject.
"They are the white tears, a symbol of mourning. We wear them to remember and honour the dead. - the Kree says - And since you are Ronan's comrade-in-arms, I thought you would want to wear them in solidarity."he adds calmly.
"Who are we mourning?" Drax butts in, going slightly yellowish in dismay.
Peter's heart suddenly clenches and he nearly lets the box drop to the floor. He turns towards Gamora and on her face he sees an identical expression of dread.
Back where they first took him on board, Ronan had told them at length about the honourable Kree tradition of some gruesome kind of ritual suicide, but sure the friendly, smiling Accusers are not implying... or are they?
"All the dead of the wars needlessly instigated by the Mad Titan, of all species and systems. - Shanleigh replies - Today is a day of remembrance and reconciliation." she adds solemnly.
Peter lets out a sigh and nearly slumps in relief. He is not the only one .
"Is everything alright?" Morthwyl enquires, looking slightly confused.
Ronan chuckles quietly.
"I suspect they though you were preparing to guide me to the Fields of Reeds." he replies.
The youngster looks even more confused and even slightly grossed out.
"Ew! No, of course not! - he exclaims - How do they even know about it?"
"I told them." Ronan replies matter-of-factly.
"Of course. I should have imagined that. - Shanleigh comments, shaking her head - Now can we speed the proceedings up a little bit, please?" she prods.
Peter nods and dips his finger in the white paint, but Ronan grabs his wriat and stops him before he can smear the paint on his cheeks.
"You can't do them yourself. - he explains - Let me." he declares.
Peter closes his eyes and lets him draw twin lines of thick white paint from his brow down to his chin. He though it would feel sticky, but it does not. It's a bit stiff actually and he can feel it cracking lightly as he re-opens his eyes.
"Will you do mine?" Ronan asks.
"Are you sure it's a good idea? I mean, with your scars..." Peter retorts.
"It's safe, I promise. It will wash off with no ill effects. - Ronan insists - I cannot go out there like this." he adds with urgence.
"Like what?" the Terran repeats, still uncomprehending.
"White tears mean that you're honouring the dead. Blood tears mean that you will exact retribution for their deaths." Euan suggests.
"Ah, alright. Not the right message." Peter comments.
"Indeed." Ronan confirms, closing his eyes and going down on a knee.
The scar tissue feels thick and ropy under Peter's fingers, still tender and half-healed. He is terrified of hurting him with a clumsy touch, but Ronan doesn't seem to be in any pain, and the pain is thick enough to cover the dark flesh almost completely, so that when he rises, it is almost as if he had never been wounded.
Peter smiles and passes the pot to Gamora.
In a matter of minutes, the faces of all the Guardians are streaked with white, even Groot's, and they march to the Council Hall, Shanleigh and Euan at the front, while the two junior Accusers close their weird little procession.
Off they go, under the gaze of all the denizens of the Palace, but unimpeded, at least until they reach the antechamber to the Hall.
There, just in front of the door, stand four officers of the Nova Corps, all dressed in black. Even though their faces are smeared with ash, Peter recognises Rhomann Dey and a couple of the other officers. They were among those who raised their fists the day before.
"Why do the sons and daughters of Xandar bar our way?" Shanleigh asks, tapping the end of her mace on the floor. Her voice is loud enough to resonate in the whole room, as big as it is, and attract everyone's attention.
Peter feels a shiver of apprehension run along his spine.
"What the hell is going on here?" he thinks once more.
Ronan takes his hand and gives it a quick, light squeeze, just to tell him that everything is OK.
"We do not seek to stop you, Accuser." Dey replies, equally loud and resonant, as if it is all a ritual, which it might well be.
"We seek to join you in this day of remembrance, if you will have us." he adds, taking a step towards her.
Shanleigh nods gravely.
"All the dead are like brothers and sisters in the embrace of the Goddess. - she declares, taking a step towards him - Let us be like brothers and sisters too, and mourn them together." she adds, holding a hand out to him.
Dey takes it, clasping it around the wrist, then pulls her in and wraps her in a tight brotherly hug.
Shanleigh freezes for a moment, then returns it.
Euan, Morthwyl and Aodhfin break ranks and step in front of their Xandarian counterparts, exchanging handshakes and hugs.
It must have been pre-arranged according to an agreed script, Peter thinks, but the message is not less powerful for it.
They are showing the Universe that no matter how bad things might have been between their people, they are going to fix them together.
"Take that, Thanos!" he thinks to himself, squeezing Ronan's hand back with a smile and a wink.
The hug-fest finishes as solemnly as it started, and all officers move to their new positions.
The two junior Accusers, together with the two youngest Nova, open the double doors to the Hall of the Council.
Shanleigh and Dey take point in their little procession, followed by Euan and a relatively senior, bright-pink-skinned, female Nova officer.
The Guardians follow their lead, marching into the Hall with measured step and their heads held high.
At the high table, Derdriyu is also wearing the White Tears, like all Kree in the room. Next to her, Nova Prime is wearing a dress of the darkest black cloth, something so dark that it almost appears to absorb the light around it. Her brow is streaked with grey lines of ash, more discreet than the faceful of soot the Nova are wearing, but equally undeniable. Their hands are joined above the table.
Xandarians and Kree really mourn together.
All the heads of state seem to have been infected by their quiet sombreness, and show, perhaps less openly, their respect by wearing dark clothes like the Xandarians or traditional funerary ornaments of their people. Even Kl'rt seems a bit less boisterous than usual.
The whole atmosphere is subdued and solemn, more like a funeral vigil than a tribunal.
There is a small smile on Ronan's face.
Xandar and Kree stand together, even closer than they stood before, united by the pain Thanos has caused to both, and the rest of the systems stand beside them. The Council has not just held. It has been strengthened for the coming fight. Whatever else might happen, Ronan has already scored his victory.
The group stops in the center of the Hall, and Ronan walks alone to the lonely chair set in front of the judges.
He kneels this time, even though Peter knows that he is still sore, actually even more sore than he was the day before, after all the... activity they have been doing.
He just stays there and waits with his head down, without even trying to glance up, in a display of total submission.
For a long moment nothing happens, then Emperor J'son raises his hand.
"Stand, Ronan of the Guardians. The Council has deliberated on your fate." he announces without even a hint of a smile.
Peter finds his heart is racing and his hands are shaking in anxiety. He grabs Gamora's equally trembling hand and squeezes it tight, trying to find reassurance in that contact. On the other side, Drax grabs his hand too, and he can see Rocket grab Drax's hand and Groot grab Rocket's, a bit like when they held the Orb, only this time what they share is not the power of a thousand suns, but the fear that their comrade-in-arms, their friend, their lover, will be taken away.
"I hear you, o Councillors. What is the verdict? What fate have you decreed for me?" Ronan responds, supporting himself on the chair to stand up, straight and proud.
"All in due time, young man. - Majestrix Lilandra intervenes - Before that, the council has another announcement to make." she reveals.
"We had though that this man had already shown us to what heights of folly and destruction a war could be pushed. - she declares, pointing her hand towards Ronan - But we were wrong. This morning, come dawn, a group of so-called hacktivists published a video on the ComNet. Other videos have been following suit. They still are, as far as I am aware." she reveals.
Peter's eyes go wide in wonder.
"More videos?" he thinks. Where have they come from? Who has made them? Has their bare-faced attempt at screwing over Nova Prime's adversaries in the Xandarian Senate produced such huge ripples across the Galaxies?
He dares to glance towards Gamora, but she looks as surprised as he is.
His eyes instictively search Andromake and Vesta, even though he knows he should not. There are wide smiles on their faces.
That Anti-War Network they had been working with, they have been doing much more than just distributing their video. They have been joining the party in an attempt to fix the Universe, one click at a time.
They might just have made it.
"All of them show that the folly of war cannot be blamed on one side only. - Lilandra continues - That all of us have our share of blame for the atrocities committed in the wars between our peoples, be it for our blindness to other solutions, be it for the pride and arrogance that prevented us to take a first step towards peace, or be it for the crimes we wilfully committed in the name of victory." she explains.
"We were lucky, my people and the Spartoi. We were blessed that the conflict between us did not escalate into utter destruction. Others were less lucky, and today we mourn their innocent dead." she continues, looking pointedly at where Nova Prime and Derdryu are sitting.
"As for the ones that didn't even have the luck of being pulled back from the very brink, even their names are lost, and their once proud cities are rubble and dust." she concludes.
"We, the rulers of the principal systems of this Cluster, cannot just rely on luck to fix this problem. - J'Son continues - We cannot always expect that two brave young people will fall in love in spite of the war between their nations and manage to end it. We cannot always hope that a band of heroic scoundrels will place themselves between a rogue warlord and his innocent victims." he declares firmly.
"Emperor J'son is right. We cannot rely on wishful thinking. - Nova Prime agrees, nodding gravely - And you were also right, young man." she adds, turning towards Ronan.
"We cannot conveniently blame Thanos for all our woes. - she declares - He might have pushed us into certain positions, but we cannot hide behind his shadow, however large. We need to take responsability for our actions and omissions. We have to have the courage to admit that we did wrong."
She makes a pause now, her usually controlled mask cracking a bit around the edges. She takes a big breath and resumes her speech.
"Twenty-six years ago, my predecessors in this office committed a heinous crime. - she confesses - Disguising them as "surgical air-strikes" of military objectives, they commanded the bombings of civilian targets in the Kree Empire, of schools and hospitals, of public buildings and temples. They told us it was for our good, to finish a war that had already lasted too long, a war that we were losing. They hid behind classified information and state secrets, they lied, and, sheltered behind those comforting barriers, we refused to see, we refused to ask ourselves why you refused to yield, why you persisted in a war that had long outlived its usefulness." she explains.
"We called you savages, unreasonable, bloodthirsty. - she continues after another brief pause, but her voice is starting to grow brittle - It was easier to think you evil than to admit that we had wronged you. Because we have, and it was inexcusable." she declares, blinking furiously.
"Is she pretending to be about to cry or is she doing it for real?" Peter thinks, fascinated and mildly horrified. Ever since he has met her, Nova Prime had never expressed any concern for the welfare of the Kree, and yet now it seems that it pains her personally to think about their suffering.
Is it all pretence? Or have they just given her the opportunity to show her true colours under the politician's mask, like Dey seemed to be suggesting?
"Our leaders thought that the lives of thousands of Kree civilians were inconsequential compared to their plans for the war. - Nova Prime continues and though it looks like she is trying, she cannot hold back a tear or two - Today I am here to tell you that not all Xandarians think like that.
Today I am here to ask you for your forgiveness." she announces, and all of a sudden she pushes back her chair and lowers herself to her knees in front of Derdriyu.
"I know it can never be enough to make good of the pain my predecessors have caused to your people, but please, accept our apologies and our contrition. - she continues - Those who have committed crimes against you will receive the just punishment, I swear it by the Goddess. Let the rest of my people make amends to yours in friendship and collaboration, instead. Let us heal the wounds our forefathers have opened." she offers.
With an ease that belies her blindness, Derdriyu takes Nova Prime's hands in hers and stands, pulling the Xandarian up with her.
"Don't kneel, sister. Stand with me. - she says, as tearful as her counterpart - Let there be no more enimity between our peoples. Let there be peace and understanding. Let our peoples stand together in Ma'at, and fight together against the forces that sought to destroy us all." she declares solemnly.
"So be it, sister. - Nova Prime agrees - Let the thousand faces of the Goddess be our witnesses in this. Let us write it in stone, so that our successors will be equally bound by these words for all time." she proposes.
"Bakh-ker!" Derdriyu exclaims. Without any warning, she throws her arms around Nova Prime's shoulders and wraps her in a hug. Nova Prime nearly yelps in surprise and, for the first time since Peter has known her, blushes.
"Bakh-ker!" Ronan exclaims, raising his fist in acclamation. He is smiling and crying at the same time, and Peter would love nothing better than to stand there with him and hold him close.
Even if he is quite sure that there will be a catch, somewhere, that this whole love-fest hides some more down-to-earth, nitty-gritty commercial agreements and stuff like that, Peter cannot deny that it feels moving and solemn and, goddamn it! he feels proud of being there, of having set things in motion so that it could happen.
"Bakh-ker!" repeat all the Kree, one by one, and the Xandarians start clapping their hands and thumping their feet on the floor. Some hug their former enemies in a fit of enthusiasm, in spite of the usual Kree shyness.
Soon the representatives from the other systems join them in saluting the newfound agreement, each in their own traditional way. The Centaurians whistle, the Skrull thump their chests, the Spartoi ululate and the Shi'ar shout "Io! Io! Io!".
For long moments, the Hall is a cacophony of joy, until Emperor J'son stands and with him all of the members of the Council. An attendant rings the gong placed on one side of the room, over and over.
Slowly, the noise dies down and everyone returns to their places.
"People of the Cluster! Heed me! - J'son commands - Today is a day of great joy, but also of great mourning. In the name of my fellow Councillors, I propose that we observe a minute of silence, in memory of all the people, from all systems and all sides of our senseless wars, who are not here with us today." he proclaims.
A deep hush falls immediately onto the Hall.
It feels odd to be standing there in total silence, Peter thinks. Many people have closed their eyes, probably to be better able to see their lost ones in their minds. It is a very intimate moment, and it feels just wrong to watch them as if they were a side-show.
Peter closes his eyes too and tries to think of his mum.
Would she be happy of what he has done with his life, he asks himself. Would she be proud of him? Or would she be miffed that he had never achieved any formal qualification?
What makes him really sad is that he never really knew her, not for real. He knew that she loved him, but not what she thought about politics, or gay marriage, what did she do at college, who was her best friend in high school, or what was her favourite movie.
If J'son had not told him of the shotgun and the shed, he would have never even known how she had met his father... They are not the most kid-safe topics, he knows it, especially for a six-year old, but he wishes he knew the answers.
He wishes he had met the amazing young woman who could repair an alien spaceship without batting an eyelash, and wanted to be the first Terran to embark on an interstellar voyage.
He wishes he could remember her like that, and not just the sad, ill woman that she was at the end.
She deserved better than that.
Another booming ring of the bell distracts him from his musings. The minute if silence is over and Lilandra takes center stage again.
"May this day and what lead to it never be forgotten. - she intones - The errors of the past have made us wiser and stronger, but it was enlightement acquired at a cruel price. Together, we have the power to prevent it all from happening again." she announces.
"This Council has decreed to constitute itself into a permanent transnational institution, with the explicit aim of preventing and containing conflict by means of peaceful mediation, and of investigating and sanctioning violations of sentient rights and war crimes." Nee-Lan, the Duchess of Gramosia, announces.
"Yeah, right. Now we are all dead set on busting that arrogant Titan, so we have to work together. But that's no guarantee that we will manage to be all good and friendly forever. - Kl'rt chimes in - We'll get onto each other's nerves and we will be in conflict, it's only natural." he explains coolly.
"The Council is not here to forbid a bit of shouting or even pummeling between adult professionals. But if someone, anyone, starts torching temples, or butchering civilians again... - he continues - Then someone else will be sent from the Council and will have their guts for breakfast." he concludes with an anticipatory grin.
Lilandra gives him a dark look and shakes her head.
"Since the law is only ever valid if it can be enforced, the Council will be endowed with an investigation and response force, and with a permanent tribunal. - she announces - Negotiations of these aspects of the Council's workings are still pending, and arrangements are not yet definitive, but..." she says.
"But we are going to have a test run anyway with our blue friend there!" Kl'rt concludes for her, looking and sounding inordinately pleased with himself.
At those words, Ronan stands even more straight, if possible, looking every inch like a person who has nothing to fear from any decision they might take.
Peter, instead, is terrified, and Gamora is too, by the looks of it.
They squeeze each other's hans as if by anchoring themselves to each other they can somehow withstand what's to come.
"Ronan of the Guardians. Your haaq-masters and their families petitioned this Council to have you freed from your bondage. - Nova Prime recaps - I am afraid that the Council has agreed that we cannot grant you your freedom, young man." she says, almost kindly.
Peter sighs. It chafes, but it was to be expected.
What is unexpected, and, actually, totally bonkers is Ronan's reaction to those words. He chuckles, the nutjob, and shakes his head as if they are the funniest joke in the Universe. What the hell is wrong with him sometimes?!
"Is there something wrong?" Nova Prime asks too, evidently piqued.
"Nothing, madam, nothing at all. - Ronan replies, still smiling - It's just... ironic."
Nova Prime gives him a perplexed look. Welcome to our world, Peter thinks.
"What?" she insists.
"Your words. You said you can't give me my freedom, but you don't realise that you already have. - Ronan explains, shaking his head - You made justice for the Fires, and by doing so, you released me from my obligation towards the victims and the survivors. I am free. I am at peace, finally." he declares with a wide, almost ecstatic smile. He is painfully beautiful like that.
"And that's why I love you even if you're totally bonkers..." Peter thinks.
Nova Prime looks at Ronan with a wistful but slightly awed expression.
"Are you ready to accept your fate?" she asks.
"I will do what is required by justice, no matter how painful or distressing for me." Ronan replies, calm as a pond.
Derdriyu nods and touches her hand to Nova Prime's, who nods as well.
"Ronan of the Guardians, you have pleaded guilty to all accuses moved to you by the Xandarian government. - the Xandarian declares - This council has reviewed your case, and has concluded that, for the gravity of your crimes, the appropriate sentence should have been to serve a life sentence in prison..." she reveals calmly. Ronan falters, like he has been hit. He leans heavily on the chair just to stay upright, but doesn't protest.
Peter feels like he has been stabbed with a knife to the heart. The pain is almost physical, it hollows him out. It feels like he cannot breathe.
It can't be happening... It's not fair! It's not right! They can't just take him away, just like that!
Except that they can, and they will. They will take away the rest of Ronan's life and the best part of Gamora's and his own life for some shit political reason, to make the Xandarians happy and put a final stop on an embarrassing historical period. There, all swept beneath the rug!
He should have never asked his biological father to intercede for Ronan. He should have let sleeping dogs lie. It is his fault that they are losing him. It's on him and his stupidly loud mouth.
Gamora lets out a high keening noise, almost like a wail and makes a half-hearted attempt to launch herself at the table of the judges. It takes both Peter and Drax to contain her, though.
Less extreme reactions of disapppointment bloom all over the Hall. His exploits in the Temple and his behaviour during the trial have won him many supporters.
"Calm down, people! - Kl'rt exclaims, clapping his large, bony hands - Don't you want to hear the rest?" he adds.
"The rest?! What rest?!" Peter thinks groggily as he tries to hold Gamora down, but the noise dies down nonetheless.
"As I was saying, your punishment should have been prison, - Nova Prime says as soon as she can make herself heard - but this Council has agreed that the primary objective of justice is the rehabilitation of criminals into society. We have also agreed that you have shown sincere repentance, that you have taken huge personal risks to make amends for your crimes, and that locking you away will not help this process. Considering this, and considering the other extenuating circumnstances, the Council has decided to commute the sentence into something more useful for you and for the whole society." she declares.
"Wait, what?!" Peter thinks, baffled by the sudden reprieve.
"Together with High Priestess Derdriyu, I have proposed that, on the condition that they pledge themselves to the Council and to the fight against Thanos, you will continue to serve in your position of retainer to the Guardians at least until the threat of the Mad Titan is eliminated. - Nova Prime continues - Your position will be reviewed periodically, and if you show any sign of relapse, your privileges will be revoked and you will be incarcerated." she explains, glibly presenting the status quo as a big innovation and as a generous concession. She is incredibly good at her craft and Peter feels like hugging her for it.
They can be together! Peter feels like dancing and jumping up and down in joy.
Groot doesn't even have his feeble inhibition. He just does what he wants, and now he is happy, so he bounces up and down and smiles in the carefree way of children, saying that he knew, he just knew everything was going to be alright.
"Do you agree to this arrangement, mari-anni?" Derdriyu asks, looking almost maternal as she calls him like an older relative would do.
"I welcome your wise words, muty-i." Ronan replies in the same vein, and since he is almost pathologically unable to lie, he must mean it when he calls them both mother. In a way, he is not wrong: they have really granted him a new lease of life.
"And you, Guardians? - Derdriyu continues, unable to hide her wide, satisfied smile - Do you pledge to take this man in your custody? Do you pledge to serve the Council and fight against Thanos and the forces of isfet who seek to end all life in the Universe?" she asks.
"I do!" Peter yells without hesitation.
"I do!" Gamora shouts between tears.
"I do." Drax says, nodding to himself.
"I am Groot!" Groot exclaims, all excited by the perspective of more adventure.
Rocket sighs. "Like we were going to say anything else... - he comments shaking his head - I do. Of course I do. What the hell, that nutjob's grown on me!" he adds, as if to justify himself.
"I do." Nebula butts in.
"But you're not a Guardian!" Rocket protests.
"I go where my sister goes." the Luphomorian replies with determination.
"I think it is fair, comrades. - Drax intercedes, to everyone's surprise - They are kin. And she fights well." he argues.
"Alright. Alright. - Rocket concedes - But I am not Rat, or Vermin, or Furry. I am Rocket." he adds, standing up to her at his full height of maybe three feet.
"And I am not Blue Bitch, or Crazy Bitch. I am Nebula." the Luphomorian retorts, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Deal." Rocket agrees, copying her gesture.
"And we are what the Terrans call a "package deal". If you take her in, you will have to take me in too." Loki adds, putting an arm over her shoulders.
"Fine by me." Drax declares.
"Welcome to the band, Icicle!" Rocket exclaims.
"And no calling me Icicle." Loki retorts.
"You guys always suck all the joy from life..." Rocket grumbles quietly, doing a small air-kick.
"Since we are in agreement, I give my pledge too, my ladies. - Loki says, turning towards the Councillors - The Guardians treated me as kin when no one else would, so I will stand by them, and fight with them." he declares, looking pointedly at Odin.
The greybeard looks back at him with disdain, but thankfully does not comment. He has done enough damage already during Loki's hearing the week before. He might be a good ruler and uber-powerful, but he is mostly a total dick.
"We are all in agreement, then. - Derdriyu sums up, still smiling fondly - The deal is struck. You can return to your rightful place among the Guardians, Ronan of House Danu." she announces.
Ronan dips his head in an approximation to a bow.
"Thank you for your trust, o Councillors. I will prove to you that it was not misplaced." he promises, then turns away and finally, finally, returns to them.
Groot doesn't even wait for him to come all the way back. He just runs towards him and throws himself into Ronan's arms, nearly bowling him over.
Ronan catches him and lets the plant-child wrap him in his branches.
"You are going to ruin my reputation, little one." he chides, but with a smile.
"I am Groot." Groot replies, and Peter agrees with him. He too can't care less about his tough-as-nails reputation right now. He only cares that he has been given back to them, and that no one else will take him away.
He too breaks away from the crowd of spectators and dashes towards his boyfriend. They embrace each other in the moddle of the Hall, and Gamora joins them almost immediately, and they hold each other and kiss each other, ignoring the cheers and the whistles from the crowd.
The rest of their messy family joins in, Rocket and Drax, Nebula and Helenai, Vesta and Make, and even Loki and Gladiator, even though they look a bit embarrassed.
They basically end up being dog-piled half to death, but it feels comforting and relieving, and actually he wouldn't have it any other way.
It is absolutely perfect.