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Notes:

Previously: After waking up from being hit with a pan, Peter successfully talked to Adam and walked out of the castle without further injury. Peter told Drax and Gamora information he had gleaned from Adam, and about his plan to stay with Adam and slowly convince him to head back to the Church. Gamora wasn’t thrilled about leaving Peter alone, but she relented in the end. The next day, Gamora injured Peter in an effort to get Peter back inside the castle. When Adam found Peter, he healed him and carried him back to the castle.

In this chapter: Adam cooks dinner, Peter screams, and the High Evolutionary makes his debut.

Thank you for waiting for this update! Jwi and I were fighting demons (Japan heat and academic conferences)

Chapter 3

Peter sometimes wondered what the immediate reactions of the people were after he left Spartax. Were they relieved, happy to be rid of the frivolous prince that would undoubtedly turn into a flippant king? Were they distraught, sad to see potential disappear? Did they feel betrayed, left with a king who cared more about the prosperity of his dick than the prosperity of his nation?

Betrayal. It was becoming a familiar flavor to Peter; its bitterness laced in many of his relationships — such as the secrets he wouldn’t tell the Guardians and the deception he was trying to pull with Adam. But it was only betrayal if they found out, and Peter was (mostly) confident that he could complete this mission without revealing any deceit. 

What he didn’t expect was for Adam to throw betrayal right back in his face.

The lingering scent of chicken and rice drifted lightly in the air as Peter fought hard not to whine. He was really looking forward to a home-cooked meal…

Across from him, Adam sat with crossed arms and an almost expectant look in his glowing eyes. Flavorless. Dinner was flavorless, and Peter wasn’t sure if he had the heart to tell Adam that his food sort of sucked. 

“It’s — um. What kinds of seasonings did you put in this?” Peter asked while making a herculean effort not to sound strained.

“Seasonings?” Adam replied with a small tilt to his head, golden hair easily rolling off his shoulders. 

Oh, sweet lord up above, grant me strength.

Peter cleared his throat, trying to get rid of any devastation his voice might convey. It didn’t work very well. “It — okay, look, Adam, I don’t want to lie to you. I say this with all the kindness in my heart, but this chicken is as flavorless as a rich, Spartoi honeymoon.” 

“And this is bad?”

“Very bad.” 

Adam leaned back, brought a hand to his chin, and scrunched his nose in a way that was now becoming familiar and — dare Peter think — cute. “I see. I’m not sure what went wrong. I followed the recipe book exactly,” Adam said, gesturing to a book on the kitchen island. The colorful cover read: 100 Terran Recipes to Woo Any Man. Peter raised his eyebrow at Adam, unsure if he should be feeling flattered right now and questioning if Adam even knew he was part Terran. 

“I did not choose this book,” Adam said, as if that cleared anything up. 

A chuckle bubbled from Peter’s chest, warm like the lanterns lit around the kitchen. “No need to explain yourself to me. I’ve seen much raunchier titles from other friends.” Adam made a face at that, but Peter ignored him by opening the book. “Oh! Look, it says to add salt and things right here.” Peter pointed to the recipe page.

Adam nodded, his unreasonably long hair forming mesmerizing, fluid waves. Peter could imagine being jealous of them if he cared a bit more about his hair. “That part of recipes will usually state ‘to taste’; the taste of food has never been especially important to me, so I never add those.”

Peter felt like jumping off the readily available cliff just outside. “Adam, maybe you have magic taste buds that can make everything you eat taste good, but we normal people need seasonings!” Peter retorted while using his hands to gesture to the food for emphasis. For the umpteenth time that evening, Peter thought about just how unusual the golden man he had entangled himself with was.

Adam’s shoulders tensed a little at the latter half of Peter’s sentence. It gave Peter pause, as if he could feel the puzzle that was Adam slowly being revealed. Did he take issue with Peter’s use of “normal”? Or did he not like being reminded of his magic? Both? So many pieces were still missing. 

“I cook almost every day for Father, and he has never complained about the food before,” Adam countered, faint defensiveness in his voice. 

Peter’s mind was brought back to the present. He internally smiled as an entertaining opportunity presented itself. “Alright, then how about we cook more chicken, but this time we add seasonings and see what your dad thinks?” Peter challenged, arms crossed and hips slightly cocked. Little challenges like these were something he’d often do with the Guardians. He usually lost, but the experience was always fun. Man, he missed them all already. Hopefully, Adam knew how to have at least a little bit of fun.    

“I accept this challenge,” Adam said, now standing up with fervent speed, as if he had something to prove. Peter gave some pleased claps. 

In a flash, Adam got ingredients ready and demonstrated his ability with a knife by quickly and smoothly slicing chicken breasts lengthwise, producing thin pieces. 

Not wanting to be a useless guest, Peter ran to help Adam prepare the breaded chicken. Before Adam could shoo him away, Peter washed his hands and quickly grabbed a piece of meat to cover in flour and beaten egg. He flashed Adam a big, ingenuous smile. Adam shook his head and finished cutting the meat. He then moved on to breading, seasoning, and frying. 

For a few minutes, they continued to work like this: an assembly line consisting of two. They stood side by side, in a comfortable and productive silence. Occasionally, one arm would brush against the other, and Peter would feel like breaking the silence if only to draw attention away from the touch. 

Eventually, Peter’s restlessness got the better of him, and he purposely hip bumped the golden man. Adam let out a quiet, upset grunt while Peter giggled to himself. What he didn’t expect was for Adam to bump him right back. 

Peter gasped, a delighted smile and sparkling eyes slowly overtaking his face. He softly stepped on Adam’s foot, provoking. Adam responded in kind by stepping on his foot, a bit more forceful than what Peter did. Peter might have chided him for being rough if he wasn’t so busy hitting him back. 

Peter bumped, Adam stepped. Adam bumped, Peter stepped. 

The shuffle of their clothes and Peter’s giggles filled the warm kitchen. As a grand finale, Peter threw a pinch of flour at Adam’s face.

He immediately sputtered and flailed his hands in front of himself. Peter threw his head back and let out a loud, boisterous laugh as he watched Adam’s handsome face process what just happened to it. 

“You got a little…,” Peter said in between chuckles, pointing to his own nose. 

Adam sighed exasperatedly as he rubbed his face with a nearby towel. “How childish.”

“I’m just spreading some joy.” Peter cracked an easy-going smile with his arms behind his back. 

Adam shook his head and went back to frying the chicken. Peter, done with his job, paced around the kitchen, touching random objects as he explored. “You know,” Peter started while walking, “I am at least impressed that I didn't find a long ass hair in my food.”   

Peter quickly dodged as an innocent spatula was thrown in his direction. 

Once done with all the cooking, Adam excused himself to take the meals down to his father. 

Peter had a strong inclination to follow him and get a glimpse of the elusive occupant, but he figured he shouldn’t overstep and decided to stay upstairs. He had some freshly cooked dinner to devour after all. His body wiggled and danced in contentment as he served himself now seasoned chicken. 

Upon his first bite, his mouth exploded with crisp and juicy flavors, made all the more delicious by the effort put into the meal. A small smile found its way to Peter's lips. Who would have thought that Adam could let loose? It made Peter curious as to what other sides he could bring out of him.  

 ★ ★ ★

This had to be the most questionable day of Adam’s (admittedly short) life. Not only did he let a complete stranger see his abilities, but he also let said stranger into his home. While Star-Lord seemed harmless, it would be folly to think that he had no ulterior motives. The castle of the High Evolutionary was secluded from populated areas and surrounded by tall mountains, dense forest, and large lakes. The only way for someone to come near this place was if they purposely ventured here; just passing through did not make sense. There had to be more to Star-Lord's story than he was letting on. 

Yet it was surprisingly easy to forget about his suspicions as they ate and cooked together. Star-Lord was easy to talk to, knew how to create a humorous atmosphere, and knew how to tease without going too far — an overall charmer. 

Adam had little idea how to deal with an individual like that. He had little idea how to deal with anyone, really. The other man’s presence made Adam somewhat anxious, nervous. He hoped Star-Lord hadn’t picked up on his unease. 

Descending to the basement and feeling the familiar, calming presence of his father eased his mind a tad, at least. When the High Evolutionary caught sight of Adam and the plates of chicken he held, an inquiring stare entered his partly obscured eyes.

“This is an experiment,” Adam began. “Please tell me which dish you prefer.”

He set down the plates and handed his father cutlery. The High Evolutionary looked back and forth between the chicken and Adam before finally deciding to move his helmet and take bits of the two meals in front of him.

“The one on the left, which I am assuming is the one with more seasonings, is more palatable than the flavorless one on the right,” the High Evolutionary bluntly answered.

Adam sucked in a quiet breath, desperately trying to keep a neutral expression. “I see.” He was practically pouting. Proven wrong by Star-Lord — how embarrassing.

The High Evolutionary set his fork down and leaned closer to Adam. His helmet was back in place, concealing most of his face, but the interest in his eyes still read clearly. “What brought this up?” 

“I’ve been informed that most people prefer seasoned food.” 

“That is true, but informed? Who told you that?”

Adam avoided looking into his father’s eyes, shame evident in his. Bringing Star-Lord here was spontaneous. He should have consulted his father first. “I may have a guest over right now.” 

“That’s surprising.” The High Evolutionary tapped his fingers on his desk. “Would it happen to be the man I overheard coo, ‘who’s a good horsie, you are,’ to Man Beast while I was outside a short while ago?”

Adam sighed. “I was not aware he went to the stables.” It was, of course, possible that another person happened to be nearby, but the action was so in line with what he understood about Star-Lord that he found it hard to imagine it was anyone else. 

The High Evolutionary got up from his chair and put a firm hand on Adam’s shoulder, a touch that comforted Adam more than he would like to admit. His other hand reached up to hold the side of Adam’s head, thumb lightly petting the gem on his forehead. He found it hard not to lean into the touch. 

“My son, is this guest of yours a problem? Do you need him removed?” the High Evolutionary calmly asked.  

Star-Lord was proving to be an annoying and unserious man, but that did not necessitate his removal. In fact, Adam felt like further conversations with him could be enlightening on the world outside the bubble that was this castle; things Adam could never learn from his many books. 

“There’s no need. He will be gone by tomorrow.” Adam turned away from his father. “I do, however, have some unfortunate news.” A pause. “Star-Lord may now be aware of my abilities. I apologize, he was injured, and I was not sure how else to handle it.”

The High Evolutionary closed his eyes and brought his arms back to his sides. “That is unfortunate, but do not apologize. This was an oversight on my part. I should have taught you more first aid.” He let out a breath. “At least you’ve befriended a man with a… decent reputation.” 

Adam would hardly call Star-Lord a friend, but he digressed. “Reputation?”

“Star-Lord and his team are known throughout this area as peacekeepers and simultaneous troublemakers. Useful in emergencies, unwanted otherwise.” 

So, Star-Lord’s hero spiel wasn’t all delusion. The image of Star-Lord chivalrously saving cats from trees was a humorous one, but what interested Adam was why a frivolous man like Star-Lord would want to be a hero. What did it gain him? 

Adam nodded at his father and at his own thoughts. “I should go back to him before he breaks something.” 

The High Evolutionary gave Adam a small smile. “Alright, be safe. And, Adam,” — he pointed to his own nose hidden under his red helmet — “you have something here.”

Adam slowly raised his hand to rub his nose on the back of it and indeed found white flour streaks. He said a quick “excuse me” to his father as he climbed the steps back to the first floor. 

Another embarrassment caused by Star-Lord. Adam couldn’t wait to get him out of here.   

When he emerged, Adam was greeted with an enchanting and joyful melody; a timbre that he recognized as a piano but had never heard like this. He walked to the living room to see Star-Lord seated at the piano, eyes closed and body swaying.

Adam himself felt an itch to sway alongside him, but he repressed that feeling and moved to stand near the other man. It took a minute for Star-Lord to open his eyes and greet him.

“Adam!” Star-Lord said as he paused his playing. A shame. “I’m sorry if this bothers you. It’s been way too long since I’ve gotten to play on a grand piano! I just had to try it out! Your piano needs a tuning, though.” Star-Lord rapidly threw his thoughts at him, but Adam was distracted by one big question he had.

“What was that?” 

“A waltz. The Gold and Silver Waltz, I think it's called.” 

Adam shook his head. “What do you mean?” 

“Um, it’s music, a type of song,” Star-Lord replied, a bit of disbelief entering his voice. 

“That’s music?” Adam asked, pensive like a philosopher regarding a patron. 

An ugly, horrified expression appeared on Star-Lord’s face, eyes wide and mouth in an open frown. If Adam didn’t know any better, he would have thought that Star-Lord had witnessed his own death. “Adam, you’re kidding! You’re breaking my heart. There’s no way you’ve never heard music before.” 

Adam logically knew that music existed — it had been mentioned in literature often — but it’s hard to convey an auditory medium in a purely visual one, so Adam never quite understood what music referred to. “I knew instruments made pleasant sounds, but never have I heard it in a sequence that sounded so… cohesive?” 

Star-Lord continued to frown, brows bunched together in a way that made Adam feel a small urge to smooth them out. “I feel like throwing up. Have you even lived if you’ve never heard music before?” 

I guess not, Adam thought, refraining from debating about what constituted life.  

Star-Lord scooted to the edge of the piano seat and patted the empty space beside him. “Sit. I’m giving you a crash course whether you like it or not.” 

The piano seat was absolutely not big enough for two grown men to sit together, but Adam didn’t feel like arguing with the clearly passionate man, so he sat uncomfortably close to Star-Lord, their thighs touching. He pushed his hair to the side, careful not to have it in Star-Lord’s way.  

“Okay, so on a piano, all these keys produce different sounds called notes. From left to right are the low notes to the high notes.” Star-Lord seamlessly moved his hand on the keys, quickly playing most of the keys in an ascending order. Adam watched Star-Lord move, impressed with the fluidity of his actions. 

“Playing a single note is fine, but the real magic happens when you combine three or more notes to create a chord.” Star-Lord played a happy-sounding chord to demonstrate. “The combination of chords and notes is music.”

Star-Lord continued playing the song from before, with more difficulty now that Adam’s body restricted his movements. He spoke and played simultaneously. “These combinations can also be called songs. The one I'm playing right now is a type of song called a waltz, which is traditionally used for ballroom dancing.”

Star-Lord swayed to the music, body brushing against Adam. It reminded Adam of how he bumped against him while they were cooking. Star-Lord was playing a game to annoy him earlier, but now his touch was gentle, unintentional.

Adam was not used to so much touching in one day. He had half a mind to abruptly leave the room to spare himself from any more unnecessary contact, but then he would miss out on the music Star-Lord was sharing, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t somewhat enjoy it. Star-Lord did not have to know that, though. 

He continued watching Star-Lord’s hands deftly move across the keys. He had tried playing the piano before, and while his random playing was nice, it lacked the melodic grace that the purposeful song Star-Lord played had. As Adam listened, he began to understand that music encompassed the dynamic of soft and loud notes, of long and short notes, and the rests in between. It was much more complex than he anticipated, and he briefly wondered how much that applied to other concepts outside his current understanding. He turned to give Star-Lord’s face a glance, the man’s eyes twinkling like the irony keys he played.  

“But music isn’t all about dancing, ya know,” Star-Lord further explained. “To me, music is all about feelings. It can replace what you can’t put into words and accentuate what you can. It reaches across boundaries, creating an experience that anyone can understand. I mean, they call it the universal language for a reason. So, to me, saying that you’ve never heard music is like saying you’ve never breathed before.” 

Star-Lord ended the song, the final cadence lingering with the night air like faraway thunder. Awe sparkled in Adam’s eyes as he was reminded of just how much he didn’t understand about humanity. Star-Lord took notice, a gentle smile overtaking his features.  

“You’re a pretty curious dude, aren’t you?” Star-Lord said, close enough that Adam could feel his breath stroke his hair; it wasn’t wholly unpleasant. “It makes me wonder why you insist on staying here.” 

The music dissipated, and Adam frowned, body slightly leaning away from the other man. “What do you mean?”

Star-Lord scratched his palm. “You don’t travel away from the castle often, if at all, right? You could experience so many things if you, ya know, go out and look for it. So why don’t you?”

Adam could laugh. What a silly question. 

Star-Lord was absolutely right that curiosity was as innate in Adam as it was in any other human. The High Evolutionary had also pointed this out a time ago, and it had made Adam swell with pride. So much of himself was so… alien, that even a small resemblance to humanity made him latch on — and latch on tight he did.

The cooking, the crafts, the random hobbies, all for a semblance of what he lacked. He found them fun. Fun but unnatural, as if he was not meant to do them. 

The occasional feelings of wrongness were when Adam would think, for a moment, about leaving the castle. To leave and search for what could make him feel at peace with the rest of humanity.

Adam would love to know more about the world. To experience it. However… 

“I believe it's time to retire for the night,” Adam replied, staring at his own lap. 

He wouldn’t do it. It was not his lot in life to be among others. 

Yet here Star-Lord was. 

Adam hoped for morning to come faster. 

“Fine. Fine. Ignore me,” Star-Lord whispered to himself, tone carefree, but his fidgeting hands betrayed a nervousness toward Adam. Likely for the best, Adam thought. There was no need for Star-Lord to get too comfortable with him.

“Let me guide you to your sleeping arrangements for the night,” Adam said as he stood, a feeling of relief washing over him now that he was not so close to the other man.

He led Star-Lord to a room just past and below the entrance to the basement and bid a curt goodnight. Without waiting for Star-Lord’s response, Adam quickly ascended to his own room. He wouldn’t go to sleep (he didn’t need it), but he would lie on his bed as he imagined the taste of freedom and community harmonizing in an outside world he would never know. 

★ ★ ★

Peter bumped his head on the bedroom door as it clicked shut. 

So close. He was so close to getting Adam to open up about himself, yet it seemed he pushed a boundary too fast. Adam shut him out, ignoring any seeds Peter attempted to plant regarding leaving this place, and wasn’t that a problem for good ’ol, heroic Star-Lord? 

He let out a tired sigh as he looked around the fairly plain bedroom. The only indication that someone lived here was what must have been hundreds of messy notebooks, books, and binders around the space. Overall, not the comfiest room — it was claustrophobic, even — but Peter could hardly complain. He didn’t find it hard to fall asleep at all. 

When he next opened his eyes a few hours later, he came face to face with a masked man looming over him.  

He screamed and jumped to a sitting position, back hitting the headboard of the bed. 

“Fascinating,” the man said while straightening his posture. He held a lantern at his side, causing harsh and ominous shadows to partially cloak the red helmet he wore. 

With unfocused eyes and labored breathing, Peter gawked at the man. “Wh-wh-what? Who?” Peter managed to stutter out.

“The High Evolutionary, Adam’s father,” the man stated while facing Peter. Luckily, his eyes were still readable under the helmet, even if mostly shrouded by darkness.

A shock ran through Peter’s body as he realized whose room he was currently crashing in. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I stole your bed.” Damn it, Adam. Why didn’t he tell him?!

“It’s alright. I simply needed old notes. Pay me no mind,” the High Evolutionary explained while moving toward a stack of notebooks.

Peter gave a hesitant nod and stared at the helmeted individual as he carefully combed through his old research. This was Adam’s dad? He was, for lack of a better word, unsettling. Adam made him sound sweet if reclusive, but the man currently in front of Peter reminded him of a children’s supervillain. His silence and lack of care in engaging in conversation made Peter sway uncomfortably on the bed. Why the helmet? Why was he staring at him in his sleep? What was he doing up so late? And WHY THE HELMET?

Oh shoot, he hadn’t introduced himself yet. “I’m Star-Lord by the way,” Peter clumsily mentioned. 

“The hero of Knowhere. I’m aware.” The High Evolutionary hummed as he continued sifting through pages of research. He then shut the notebook he was holding, tucked it to his side, and took a few steps toward Peter, body straight and imposing. “Curious, why is an individual such as yourself in the mountains? Where is the rest of your team?” he asked, monotone. 

Peter wasn’t sure if he liked where this line of questioning was headed, but he had prepared for it. “A solo mission. Just taking care of some outlaws.”

The High Evolutionary nodded. “There has been an increase lately.” He turned around and started heading toward the door. “A final question, Star-Lord. Are you religious?” 

Peter furrowed his eyebrows. “No?” 

“Then why work with the Universal Church of Truth?” 

A deafening silence followed, interrupted by the thundering ticking of a nearby clock that Peter only just noticed. He swallowed, painfully loud. No, there was no way he could know that. He was guessing. 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Peter said with a small, confused smile. 

The High Evolutionary snorted, patronizingly amused. “Adam nor I are idiots.” 

Peter felt his neck begin to sweat, suddenly very aware that he was in a room, alone, with a stranger throwing accusations, in the middle of nowhere. 

He might be flarked.

“Let me speculate for a moment,” the High Evolutionary said while beginning to pace around the room. Peter stayed silent in bed, pulling the duvet closer to himself, as if it gave him protection. He glanced at his sword just out of reach on the bedside table.

“For reasons that are unimportant to me,” the High Evolutionary began, “the Church approaches you with an ask to retrieve something. You agree and are sent to this area. You injure yourself, betting on Adam letting you stay for a while as you recover.” He held his chin. “You had planned to convince Adam to leave the castle, intent on taking him back to the Church.”

Peter leaped off the bed, left hand reaching out to hold the grip of his sword, and right hand held out in a stopping gesture. “Sir, that’s ridic — .” 

“An incredible idea.” 

A clatter resonated in the room as Peter’s sword slipped out of his hold.  

“Huh?” Peter intelligently said, like the genius he was. 

The High Evolutionary chortled, his lantern swinging in front of him and giving his eyes a soft glow. “Has Adam told you much about his abilities?” 

A phantom tingle of power could still be felt on his abdomen if Peter focused on it. He shook his head. 

“I believe that Adam is a marvel. He came to me, ignorant and afraid, yet powerful. So powerful,” the High Evolutionary said, a little breathless. “He was quite literally glowing, and I don’t think he realized that he was not supposed to be. We spent many hours in my lab as I did everything I could to elucidate his powers and their functions. Over the years, I’ve concluded that his gem acts as a simultaneous power source and stabilizer. Adam has expressed less than fondness for his abilities, but ablating them is not so simple. All my attempts to extract the gem have left Adam in an incapacitated state — unresponsive, paranoid, and deluded.” 

The High Evolutionary sighed, a tired slump overtaking his posture. “Perhaps it's time to admit that I lack the capabilities to help Adam in this endeavor. If the Church could attach the gem, then it stands to reason that they have the means to extract it. It is worth a shot at the very least.” 

Peter stood there for a moment, trying to take in all the information. The High Evolutionary thought that taking Adam was a good idea? That was more than a shock to Peter. Hell, he half expected his father’s insistence to be half the reason that Adam didn’t leave the castle. But his father actually wanted him to leave? To the Church no less?   

“You really trust the Church to handle that?” Peter whispered, as if Adam could hear them from the tower.

The High Evolutionary moved away, head wistfully upturned. “It’s less about trust and more about urgency. The gem needs to come off because I fear Adam cannot live a fulfilled life with it. Star-Lord, I approve of you taking Adam away because staying here will only harm him, until he does something… petrifying permanent.”

Peter shuddered, a heavy atmosphere suddenly engulfing the small bedroom. He thought back to Adam’s small voice, his flinching body, his dodgy responses. Could a small gem on his forehead make him feel so trapped — so afraid? 

Jeweled crowns flashed in Peter's memories. Instinctively, his hand reached to grab his necklace. Maybe he could relate. 

“Are you really okay with me taking Adam?” he asked with a wobble in his voice that he didn’t mean to reveal.

“So long as you bring him and the gem back safe and sound,” the High Evolutionary responded with no indication that he noticed Peter’s sudden emotion.

“The gem?”

The High Evolutionary scoffed. “I trust the Church to detach it, not to keep it.”

It was true that in the back of his mind, Peter was thinking of ways to get a powerful weapon like the gem away from the Church. Who knows what they’ll do with it?

“I’ll bring both back, unharmed. Promise.” Peter declared, facing the helmeted man with more confidence in his voice and eyes than he was actually feeling. 

The High Evolutionary nodded, his back straight again. “Good, I am glad we had this chance to discuss," he said, unexpectedly sincere. 

Tension released from Peter’s shoulders, the words soothing his frayed nerves. He matched the High Evolutionary by giving him a sincere smile of his own. “Me too.”  

After wishing each other good night, the High Evolutionary left Peter with much to consider. This was practically a best-case scenario. Adam’s father was on his side, and he and Adam were getting along. But as much as Peter would have liked to believe that things would keep working out for him, he knew from experience that anything could go wrong. 

Anything that could go wrong will go wrong, just seemed to be a Guardian’s law, as Heather once dubbed it. Peter called her pessimistic, but then he got shat on twice by birds on his way to an important dinner, and he learned not to doubt her and to never trust a bird. 

Overall, he went to sleep optimistic, but mentally bracing for any roadblocks in the days ahead.  

When he woke up, he washed himself in an attached bathroom and ascended to the kitchen, coffee at the forefront of his sleepy mind. He heard the clanking of plates just beyond the door. 

“Yo, Adam, the baths you have here are so fancy. Heated, running water? I feel like royalty!” Peter joyfully said as he opened the kitchen door. His next sentence died on his lips when he saw Adam and the High Evolutionary sitting together at the breakfast nook. He blinked, confused, as he was under the impression that the man didn’t leave the basement much. 

Neither looked different from last night; the High Evolutionary still wore a helmet and matching red attire, while Adam was still as gorgeous as he was yesterday, not even a stray hair on his soft-looking locks. Did this guy not get bedhead? Life could be so unfair. 

“Good morning, Star-Lord,” the High Evolutionary said, disrupting Peter’s thoughts, “with your presence, we can now get started.”

Peter tensed. Started on what? 

“Adam.” The High Evolutionary turned to his son. “Star-Lord has been deceiving you.” 

Peter jumped. Screw coffee, this was way more of a shock to the system. This creepy bastard! Didn’t he agree last night to help Peter on his mission? Damn it! Peter knew it was too good to be true. 

Peter practically tripped over his own legs as he rushed to stand next to Adam. “Wait, let me explain!” 

“No need,” the High Evolutionary interrupted, “Adam has a right to know that I have requested your presence for the foreseeable future.” 

For the second time in the last 12 hours, Peter’s mind seemed to short-circuit.

Meanwhile, Adam looked between his father and Peter, not at all pleased with the current situation. 

The High Evolutionary continued, “After my last trip to Knowhere, I met Star-Lord and confided in him about my lack of interesting test subjects. Graciously, Star-lord volunteered his own body to be used in my science. An incredibly generous offer, I couldn’t say no. We agreed to have him come and stay for a while after he was done with matters in Knowhere. Isn’t that right, Star-Lord?”

Experiment?! His own body?! Peter would NOT agree to that, but he understood what the other man was doing and was prepared to play along. The High Evolutionary was getting a stern talking to later, though. “T-that’s right! I sort of got lost on the way, but Red Head over here told me to keep our deal on the down low, so I didn't tell you anything about it. If I had realized earlier that you were his son and this castle was exactly where I wanted to be, I would have told you my real reasons. Sorry about that, Goldie.” Peter finished with an apologetic smile.  

Adam was stuck between wanting to glare at Peter and frowning disapprovingly at his father. In a careful voice, he said, “I do not approve of this, Father.” 

“I do apologize for springing this on you, but I need Star-Lord for my research, so he will be staying,” the High Evolutionary said with no room for argument.

Adam let out a deep, long sigh and turned to face Peter with a harsh glare. 

Peter held out his hand as a gesture of goodwill. “I swear I'll be a good roomie.” 

Adam didn’t reply, staring at the outstretched hand as if it had personally insulted him. He then stormed upstairs, a loud slam reverberating as he shut his bedroom door, leaving Peter and the High Evolutionary in an awkward, prolonged silence. 

“Kids, am I right?” Peter said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. 

The High Evolutionary looked toward Peter, in a good or bad way, Peter couldn’t tell under the helmet. He really wished he would take it off. “He’s simply not used to having to share a space. It makes him uneasy. He’ll get over this eventually.” 

Peter sure hoped so. Adam disliking of him would throw a big wrench into the plan. Deciding to give Adam space for today, Peter aimed to spend the rest of the day at the stables while brainstorming ways to get back on Adam’s good side. As he walked outside, he failed to notice glowing, calculating eyes observing him from a window, equal parts curious and fearful for what Peter’s continued presence could actualize.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! Now here's a doodle from Jwi. An alternative scene where the High Evolutionary checked on Adam as he was dealing with a passed-out Peter (taking place immediately after chapter 1).

Notes:

A reminder to check out the opening video and AMV (contains spoilers for the future) that Jwiqt made for this AU.

Also, I know my memory is sorta ass, so here's a little summary of what happened last chapter if you need it:

Peter is a runaway prince from Spartax. After he stumbled upon the Church’s secret city, the Church threatened to reveal Peter’s whereabouts to Spartax unless Peter brought Adam back to them. Peter agreed and recruited Gamora and Drax to help him scope out Adam’s location. Alone, Peter decided to hide in Adam’s castle to make an opportunity to talk to Adam. But before he could get a word in, Adam hit him with a pan, knocking him out.

Chapter 2:

Maybe he should have realized that his plan of being “accidentally” caught had a high chance of him being attacked. 

Oops. 

While waking up, Peter half expected to be locked in a dungeon, random puddles and moss being his companions for the next eternity; instead, gentle light filled his vision while the smell of baked bread made his stomach rumble. He tried to move his extremities, but found them bound with thick rope to the wooden chair he was sitting in. With a throbbing head, he looked around and found that he was still in the castle kitchen. The golden man was sitting in a chair across from him, staring with intense scrutiny. It was unsettling having his unnatural eyes affixed on him, as if dissecting his very soul.

Okay, so he wasn’t in an ideal situation. Nothing a little charm and flirtations couldn’t fix (even if the other Guardians disagreed).  

Peter tilted his head down and stared into the golden man’s eyes with a slight smirk. In a teasing voice, he said, “Like what you see?”

The strange man continued to stare — face unchanged. “You shouldn't be here.” 

Peter let his smirk fall as he processed the man’s lack of response. Alright, change of plans. Bullshit sob story: initiate. “I know, and I’m sorry.” Peter sheepishly lowered his head and his voice. “I was passing through when some bandits robbed me of all my food and valuables. I’m lucky they let me keep my sword.” Peter lifted his head to look at the man with slightly wet eyes. “I was desperate and hungry. I saw this place and thought I was saved. It’s no excuse. I knew I was stealing. I’m sorry.” 

The man continued to eye Peter, reminding Peter of the empty stare of bronze statues. The man then shifted his eyes to gaze pensively at the kitchen island. With a nod to himself and grace Peter had seldom seen since arriving in Knowhere, the man rose from his chair, united Peter’s arms, picked up two freshly made brioche buns, and then sat back down. Peter gawked at his golden locks as he moved throughout the kitchen, still incredulous that hair could get so long. It impressed Peter how swiftly the man could move when so much hair weighed him down. Briefly, Peter imagined how muscular the man’s neck must be to hold up so much weight.

Peter was so distracted that he barely registered that his hands were free until the golden man held the bread out to him in offering.

“Eat, then leave,” he steadily said.

An unexpected kindness. Peter smiled, pleasantly surprised. “Are you sure?” Peter asked while rubbing his slightly rope-burned wrists. 

The stranger nodded.

Peter reached for the bread before suddenly stopping. “I’m not about to be in a poison apple situation, am I? Because having a random prince I don’t know kiss me while I’m asleep is NOT cool.” 

The man narrowed his eyes and scrunched his nose, as if sniffing milk that was several months out of date. 

Damn, would it kill this man to at least give a pity chuckle? 

Peter shrugged while grabbing the bread and lifting a bun to his mouth. “What I mean to say is thank you. You didn’t have to.” 

Peter took a bite; it was warm and slightly sweet. It reminded him of when Phyla first tried to bake bread with the help of Drax. Heather watched from a distance, no interest in learning to bake herself. Gamora, Mantis, and he were arguing about whether ghosts exist (they totally do by the way). Somewhere along the way, the group merged and started talking about pseudonyms. They all had them, such as Quaser for Phyla-Vell or Moondragon for Heather. The lively conversation ended up being revealing as the team shared how they got their real names or pseudonyms. Peter thought about telling them all his full real name. It had been a few years since the official formation of the Guardians, and Peter really thought of these people as his family. He wanted them to know. He really wanted them to know. But, of course, he never ended up telling the truth. 

“Got a name?” Peter asked with a mouth full of bready memories. 

“Excuse me?” the man said with a frown. Peter was starting to think this guy didn’t know how to make any other expressions that weren’t frown-adjacent. 

Peter rubbed the back of his head — which was still in slight pain. “I sort of don’t want to keep calling you man-that-hit-me-with-his-pan in my head forever, so can I have a name?” 

The man glanced behind him at the pan that was now sitting unassumingly on the counter. “Not my best moment, but you were a stranger who broke in.”

“Guilty.”

The golden man brought his attention back to Peter. “My name is unimportant.” 

“Aw, come on! I’ll tell you mine.” With as much bravado as he could muster with legs still tied to a chair, Peter began his introduction, “I am the one and only Star-Lord, protector of Knowhere and leader of the Guardians! Villains quake fearfully at my moniker! Heroes breathe easier in my presence. The public throw themselves at my feet and women —”

“Stop. Please, stop. It’s Adam. My name is Adam.” With a pained face, Adam held his forehead with his right hand, green gem peeking through his fingers.   

“I was getting to the good part. You sure you don’t want to hear the rest?” Peter pouted.

“I am sure, Star-Lord.” Adam walked behind Peter to untie the rest of his bonds, probably deciding that Peter was not a threat. Peter wasn’t sure how to feel about that. 

Once free, Peter stretched by standing on the tips of his toes and bringing his arms above his head. A loud groan escaped his mouth. “Thanks, Adam, but next time, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t resort to violence at the first sight of a poor and hungry stranger.”

“An intrusive stranger that squeaks,” Adam said with some exasperation.

Peter laughed and pocketed his extra brioche bun. “My squeak was convincing, and you know it! But I guess I understand. You need to be on your guard when you live alone.”

Adam shook his head. “You are mistaken. I am not alone here. Father prefers to stay in the basement.” 

Father? Do god-like beings have dads? Are they better than human ones? 

Adam motioned to the exit. Peter took the hint.

“Alright, I’ll get it out of your really long hair now.” Peter started toward the door and then stopped. He looked into Adam’s strange eyes and swore he could almost see swirling galaxies. Peter decided to test his luck. “Why do you live in this castle in the middle of nowhere?” 

Adam crossed his arms and gave a glare that could sharpen daggers. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Peter held his hands up and out to convey surrender. “Just curious.” 

As they stood there, a symphony of night-time crickets and frogs started their performance with no regard for weary spirits. Peter listened to the song and figured he wouldn’t get Adam to speak again. Despite this, he still spared a few seconds to look at Adam’s face a final time. Maybe it was shadows from the candlelight, or the dark markings around his eyes that resembled makeup, or his hunched posture as he watched Peter head for the door, but Adam seemed tired.

But that wasn’t any of Peter’s business — not tonight. 

With a friendly wave, Peter exited the kitchen, yet before the door shut behind him, he heard Adam mutter a small, “It’s for the best.” 

Peter refrained from replying.

Dancing fireflies joined Peter on the uneventful journey back to Drax and Gamora. He swore he had never seen so many out and about in his life. He figured it was because he was deep in unexplored mountains; the bugs were fearless and plentiful. Soon enough, he sauntered his way into their makeshift camp and sat with Drax by a campfire. The horses they took most of the way here were tied to a tree near a stream of water. Gamora stood next to their tent, a small distance away from the campfire. 

“You took a while, did everything go well?” Drax asked. 

Peter went on to describe his encounter in detail, making sure to highlight the most important information. (1) Adam was a being that could be talked to and reasoned with, (2) he was not alone in the castle, having at least an alleged “father”, (3) he seemed to want to be left alone for an unknown reason, and (4) despite his appearance, they currently had no evidence that he had any “god-like” powers like the Church claimed. 

“Did he look strong?” Drax asked as soon as Peter was done debriefing, and Gamora was done checking Peter’s eyes for a concussion and calling him an idiot for going inside alone. 

“Not particularly. About the same build as me but a bit thinner.” 

“Then let’s beat him up and get this over with,” Drax said with a punch to his palm. 

Peter softly sighed at Drax’s straightforwardness. Violence would be the easier option, but Peter liked going the pacifist route when he could, even if that ended up with him having annoying negotiations. And the bottom line was that Adam had done nothing wrong. If this could be done without violence and instead with gentle persuasion, Peter would much prefer that.

“You know me, Drax, violence is my last resort.” 

Gamora scoffed. “Softie.” 

Peter pursed his lips at her. “Yeah, well, if you guys have any better ideas, I’m all ears!”  

They shrugged. Of course. 

Gamora then shifted gears to tell the group about her findings. It turned out she also saw Adam walking from a distance. “So, I can confirm that golden boy has a heaping head of hair on him, and that he looks very beatable,” Gamora said while shooting Peter a look. 

Peter shook his head, and Gamora frowned while flipping around a dagger. 

“Then what is our next course of action?” Drax asked.

“I’m going back,” Peter said. 

Gamora snickered, “It sounds like golden boy doesn’t want you there, Peter.”  

“But would you agree that I’m our best bet at getting this guy to at least consider hearing out the Church?” 

“That would actually be Mantis,” Gamora replied.

“We should have brought Mantis,” Drax said, a dramatically somber expression on his face. 

Peter threw up his hands. “She’s not here right now! So, I say we go with me!”

Drax groaned while Gamora slightly narrowed her eyes at Peter. She did agree that Peter was best at non-violent persuasion out of the three of them, but something seemed off about this mission, and it wasn’t just because the Church was involved.

“I think I should go back in, befriend the guy, then convince him to go to the Church. Boom. Mission done,” Peter said while beginning to stand back up.

Gamora walked toward Peter, still frowning. “Who knows how long that will take, Peter. Are you sure you want to play the long game with this guy? I know this Church business is important, but Knowhere has plenty of problems to deal with.” 

“Which is why you two should go back to Knowhere and continue duties there. You guys aren’t useful waiting out here just for the possibility that I get in trouble while in the castle. Adam is a little unsettling, sure, but meeting him has put me at ease about this whole thing.”

Adam didn’t immediately kill him and even fed him. That had to mean something! That had to mean there was a heart under that stoic, exterior shell that Peter could worm his way into. “I think I can work with him,” Peter finished.

“Sounds good to me,” Drax replied before lying down on the ground, closing his eyes, and humming a soft song. 

Gamora, on the other hand, was not convinced. She grabbed Peter by the forearm and, in a whisper, questioned, “Why are you trying to do everything by yourself right now?” 

Peter avoided her eyes. “I’m not doing this on purpose. It just so happens that we don’t need more than one person doing this. We’ve all done solo missions before. Why is this a problem?” 

“There are so many more unknowns here than normal,” Gamora almost seethed. 

Peter never wanted to restrict his team from doing anything, but he always discouraged going solo, so he understood why Gamora was worried. Yet for this mission, he would rather the rest of the Guardians be as far away from it as possible. Let him take the burden of pleasing the Church. 

“I promise it won’t be for long,” Peter said in a voice that he hoped was comforting.

Gamora stared at Peter for a long moment, taking in his pleading eyes, lightly freckled cheeks, and disheveled clothes. She would never admit it, but she did trust Peter and the other Guardians more than anyone else in her life. Sighing, she gave Peter’s arm a slight push. “Keep us updated via Rocket. I expect frequent letters. If you fail to send one, I’m coming to get you.”  

“I promise, I promise! You guys are gonna be so sick of my prose by the time I’m done here.” Peter smiled while mimicking the movement of signing a letter with a pen.

Gamora shook her head fondly. “Want to keep Mila here?”

“Yes, please. Otherwise, it’ll take me forever to get back.” 

Gamora nodded. “Anything else you need?”

“A plan to get into the castle without Adam immediately kicking me out,” Peter said while throwing up some dirt with his foot.

“Is that it?” Gamora smiled. “That’s easy.” 

Peter raised an uneasy eyebrow at Gamora, already fearful for his life.  

★ ★ ★

Soft taps and scratches disrupted the silence. Gears grinding, more taping, and finally, the ticking of a clock. Adam huffed with self-assurance and relief. He put his screwdriver — courtesy of his father — down on the desk. He took off his magnifying eyepiece — also courtesy of his father — and blinked as he adjusted to the macro world once more. Yesterday, Adam told the High Evolutionary that he felt inspired to try fixing broken clockwork movements. The High Evolutionary hummed, looked up from the laboratory notebook he had been bookkeeping in, and walked to a nearby storage shelf. In the next minute, he presented Adam with a pocket watch and various tools. 

“Use this as practice. There should be a guide on how to start in the main library. Be aware that you will break things; it is part of the learning process. Good luck.” He then returned to his notebook, immediately continuing the sentence he had been writing, as if he had never stopped in the first place.

“Thank you,” Adam said before curtly exiting the laboratory. The High Evolutionary did not like excessive chatter, and Adam saw no need for it either. Adam meant to spend the next few hours after dinner tinkering with the movements of the watch, but then he encountered Star-Lord after his walk, and his whole day fell apart. 

When Adam told his father about Star-Lord, his father said not to worry about it. They’d run into other people before and had no problems, but something about Star-Lord lodged itself into Adam’s mind. Maybe it was the audacity to break in and then act frivolous about it, or maybe it was because he was the only other person to have ever asked for Adam’s name besides the High Evolutionary. Whatever the case may be, right now he was happily distracted by the pocket watch he got to work.

But the ticking was too fast. Huh. 

Oh well, Adam was a complete beginner after all. Did he wind it too tight? He went to pick up the screwdriver, ready for more hours of disassembling and reassembling watch movements, when he noticed his working deck clock read 5:00 P.M. It was time for his evening walk.

As usual, Adam exited the castle front door and moved to the dirt path his many walks have crafted over the last few years. This was a peaceful and tranquil time for him, walking being a perfect opportunity to think without the stress of other burdens. Although Adam doesn’t consider his current life to be full of stress, just one really big one. Gently, his fingers touched the green gem attached to his forehead.

“Like a perfect, human god,” the High Evolutionary told him once.

Adam had thought a lot about who he was: a human, a god, a son, a creation. Goodness, malice, and the gray median. Man, women, and the spectrum in between. Of Earth, yet cosmically inclined. Unnatural yet the most natural.

In his short life, he had learned that many other people had philosophized as he did, wondering what it meant to be man or the self. He doubted any of those scholars were born of blood and crucifixion, though. He doubted any of them learned the feelings of guilt and grief within minutes of birth. 

His thoughts traveled to memories he never had, of a boy and his mother, born to faith and dying for it. Did they wonder about the nature of the self? Did they ever get a chance to? 

He felt the ghost of fingers raking into his scalp when he heard a distant call, “Help…”  

Snapping to attention, Adam raced farther along the path until he caught sight of an unfamiliar bump in the road, an oddly Star-Lord shaped bump. Adam approached with trepidation.

“Heya, Adam. Looking good today,” Star-Lord said with a pained voice. He was face down on the forest floor and only turned his head when he noticed Adam approaching. 

Adam dropped to Star-Lord’s side and put a steady hand on his back. “What happened?” 

“Oh, you know, went on a stroll, got stabbed, crawled to the nearest friendly face I could think of.” 

Adam found this very questionable. What was Star-Lord doing still near the castle?

“Who would stab you?” Adam asked instead, now noticing the very red puddle beneath Star-Lord. 

“Most people.” Star-Lord took a deep, shuddering breath. “There I was, walking in the forest, enjoying some bread a very gold and very handsome man gave me. Then, suddenly, some asshole with a —. 

“Star-Lord, while I can tell you are a gifted storyteller, I believe there are more important matters to attend to.”

Star-Lord gave a pained nod. “Ah, yeah, you might be right.” He frowned apologetically. “Sorry for bothering you again,” he winced, “and for getting blood all over your forest floor.” 

Adam shook his head and readjusted Star-Lord to lie on his back and get a better look at the stab wound. He frowned. It was deep, but it didn’t look like it hit anything vital. Adam deliberated a moment about what to do. He had a very easy solution, but his father had warned him about showing his abilities to the wrong people. He had no reason to trust Star-Lord. Showing him could put his father and himself in danger, but right now, the amount of blood was concerning, and he wasn’t sure he could treat Star-Lord normally. With a huff, he took his hair and began wrapping it around Star-Lord's midriff, careful not to hurt the man. Adam was sure he could handle however Star-Lord decided to take this new information.

Star-Lord gave Adam a concerned look. “Um, Adam? Using your really long hair as a bandage is sort of genius, but you can just tear off a piece of my shirt. Cloth is probably better, and that way you don’t have to get your hair all bloodstained.” 

Adam ignored the impulse to say that it already was. “I’m not making a bandage.” 

“Oh, then what are you doing?” 

“Watch.”

Adam laid his hands on top of his wrapped hair around Star-Lord. He took a deep breath. Held. Then let it out. As he breathed out, his gem glowed green and his hair glowed golden. His body tingled and, for just a moment, he felt everything. He felt the vibrations of marching ants, the phototropism of nearby flowers, a drop of water from a stalactite, the first breath of a calf, the last thought of a criminal, the pull of ocean waves, the collisions of asteroids, the heat from a supernova, the density of a blackhole. But it was only for a moment. In the next, Adam was back on Earth, slightly winded and mind buzzing. 

He glanced at Star-Lord and found the man frozen in awe, caught between wanting to stare at Adam’s gem or Adam’s hair. Suddenly, Star-Lord gasped. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” his father once told him. “In a word, it feels like life.”

“And what does that feel like?” Adam asked.

The High Evolutionary hummed before walking away.

Adam wondered if he would ever find the answer.

“Holy shit!” Star-Lord shouted. Quickly, he unwrapped Adam’s hair from around himself and gawked at his wound. Except there was no longer any wound, any pain, not even a scar.

Adam tilted his head at Star-Lord, looking almost confused at his shock. 

“Magic hair,” Star-Lord said a little shakily, “of course you have magic hair.” 

★ ★ ★

Gamora was awfully unwilling to reveal her idea the morning after Peter talked with her. After a calm half-day of packing up and exploring the surrounding mountainous area, Gamora instructed Peter to lead the group to the dirt path he saw Adam on. It was mid-afternoon, the same time as when Peter had his initial encounter with Adam. If Adam took daily walks, then they would run into him again. Peter understood that logic fine, but what next? Before Peter could ask Gamora what the next step to her brilliant plan was, she swiftly stabbed him in the abdomen. 

Pain exploded across Peter’s midsection. He gasped as he grabbed the stab wound, watching as drops of blood began to drip onto the forest floor. 

“Gam!” Peter shouted. “What in Loki’s name are you doing?!”   

Gamora sheathed her dagger. “Giving you a way into the castle. Your golden boy should take you home and attempt to help. Drax and I will hide nearby, so if he tries anything funny with you, we’ll kick his ass.” 

“Son of a flarking…,” Peter began to curse, taking audible breaths to avoid the pain. “Couldn’t you have just, I don’t know, knocked me out?  

Gamora was silent for a second. “Oh yeah, that could have worked too.” 

Drax laughed, whether at Peter’s pain or at Gamora’s lack of thought was unclear. 

“Don’t worry,” Gamora said as she and Drax started walking away to hide, “you won’t die. It might be painful and there might be a good bit of blood, but you’ll be fine.” 

Peter had full confidence that Gamora knew where to stab a person without hitting anything important or causing too much blood loss. Still, that did not make the stab any less painful. Once Gamora and Drax were out of sight, Peter cursed a few more times, threw his sword to the ground, lay down, and waited for his golden hero. It barely took a few minutes before he spotted Adam in the distance and yelled for help.

Now here he was, fully healed and with a hard-to-deny magical being in front of him. Alright, so maybe the Church wasn’t full of bullshit. That was almost more unbelievable than the magic. Peter lowered himself back onto the forest floor. “I’m feeling faint.” 

Adam hummed as unsure fists clenched in front of him. Taking in a deep breath, he brought one hand to Peter’s back and the other hand below Peter’s knees. With little effort, Adam lifted Peter up, carrying him bridal-style.

Caught by surprise, Peter instinctively put his arms around Adam’s neck. “Woah, Adam, buddy. Is this really necessary?”

“If you're feeling faint, you shouldn’t walk.” Adam plainly stated as he began walking back to his home. “You can stay at the castle until you feel well enough to travel.”

Peter blinked. Well, it looked like he would end up in the castle after all. He threw a thumbs-up in the direction of Gamora and Drax’s hiding spot, letting them know that he was alright. 

Now he just had to make sure Adam continued to think he was unwell, yet Peter couldn’t help taking the opportunity to tease the guy when he saw it. “Wow, who would have thought the recluse in the tower had a heart of gold all along?”  

Adam looked down at Peter and raised an eyebrow. “This recluse could always drop you.” 

Peter held on to Adam tighter. “But he would never do that! Right?”

“He has not decided yet.” 

Peter chuckled nervously, but Adam’s hold of him remained strong. This close to the man, Peter could see how flawless Adam’s complexion was, how pretty his eyes glowed once you got used to the strange emptiness, and how his hair shone in the afternoon sun. Peter was starting to feel like a soggy blanket in comparison to this man. Not that Peter was self-conscious about his looks — he was ruggedly handsome if he did say so himself — but Adam was on a whole other level of ethereal handsomeness that Peter was having a hard time processing. 

“You’re staring,” Adam stated. 

Peter felt his face heat up and his palms grew sweaty. “Sorry… just thinking about how unreal you are.” 

“Unreal?”

“Yeah, I mean, magic, dude. How the hell is this possible?”

Adam looked up to the sky in thought, face pensive in a way that made Peter want to poke it. “Magic isn’t as uncommon as you think. Psychics and the like have been reported throughout human history. And if legends are true, there are more gems out there that can conduct magic like mine.” 

“So, the gem gives you powers?” Peter said while trying not to think too hard about Adam’s hand on his thigh. 

“Perhaps.” 

Alright, captain unhelpful, Peter thought. Undeterred, Peter continued, throwing rapid-fire questions at Adam. 

“Do you have other powers besides healing?” 

“Yes… but healing is my focus. 

“Cool. How long have you had these powers?” 

“My whole life.” 

Peter nodded. “Why do you have them?” 

Adam looked off into the distance. “Random chance or fate? Who can say?”

“Ominous, but okay. What about your hair? Did magic make it so long?” 

“I wouldn’t completely rule out that magic enhanced its growth, but the boring answer is that I’ve just never cared to cut it.”

Peter lightly shook his head, disbelief following his movements. “This is so crazy. Are you even human?” 

Adam furrowed his brows. “You certainly have a lot of questions for being unwell.” 

“What can I say, even on the verge of death, curiosity is still in my bones,” Peter said with a light-hearted tone.

Adam sighed, the exhale lightly brushing Peter’s hair. “I suppose it is understandable given the situation. As for whether I am human, my father says yes, but I find that answer slightly unsatisfactory. 

“You think you’re something more?” 

“A yet undiscovered something.” 

“Sounds confusing.”

“It is.”

A beat of silence. Peter slightly shifted in Adam’s hold. “Thanks for satisfying my curiosity, but now that I know about your powers, is that gonna be a problem?”

Adam tilted his head. “Will you tell anyone?” 

Peter chuckled. “As if anyone would believe that I found a magic man in the middle of a weird forest.”

Adam stepped on a branch, the crack reverberating throughout the area. “Then I’m alright with you knowing. Otherwise, I could hunt you down if you betray my trust.” 

“Ha, that’s a joke, right?” 

Adam didn’t respond. 

“Adam, please say you’re joking.” 

After a minute of contented silence, Peter convinced Adam that he was fine to walk on his own, but after being set down, Peter sort of regretted not taking the rare opportunity of being fawned over. They continued trekking up to the castle, and Peter refrained from yapping Adam’s ear off, figuring that Adam would appreciate some peace. This gave Peter time to digest everything Adam had told him. 

The Church didn’t give him many details, but it sounded like they were responsible for Adam’s current powers. Did they do something to Adam at birth? Did Adam consider his powers — and by extension the gem — a birthright? Was there a responsibility Adam felt? To use his abilities for the good of the world or something? Peter reflected on Adam’s current self-imposed isolation in the castle and thought about how much of a waste it was. Adam could be outside, traveling and making the world a better place. Why stay here? The thoughts of birthright and responsibility made Peter’s arms itch. He shook his head.

Eventually, the pair reached the castle, and Adam guided Peter to a cozy yet unused-looking living room. Adam quickly went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water. He handed it to Peter. 

“Thanks, Goldilocks.” Peter took a sip. 

Adam gave Peter a questioning look at the nickname, but didn’t complain. He then lit a fireplace across from Peter, blanketing the room in a warmth it probably had not felt in years. Afterwards, he stood by Peter and stared into the flames. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked. 

Peter swirled his cup. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that magic is real, but, you know, okay aside from that.”

“I apologize; I should have realized that seeing magic would be distressing to you.” 

“Hey, it’s better than bleeding out in the middle of a forest.” 

Adam nodded, still staring at the fire. “Are you hungry?”

“Oh, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.” Which reminded Peter that Mila was still waiting by the stream. He’d have to get her soon.

“Then allow me to make something.” 

“Wow,” Peter said with a dopey smile, “I’m feeling so pampered.” 

Adam turned toward Peter. “Take it as an apology for distressing you so much.”

“You saved my life, Adam. If anything, I should be the one making dinner for you!” 

Adam shook his head. “It’s alright. I needed to do this anyway.”

Peter shrugged his shoulders. “Alright, but while you do that, do you mind if I explore your place?

“If you must, but I will discourage you from going into the basement. Father does not like to be disturbed.” 

“No basement. Mad dad. Got it.” Peter said while shooting Adam a thumbs-up.

While Adam went to the kitchen to do his thing, Peter ran back to the forest and guided Mila to a stable near the castle. While out, he occasionally felt around his abdomen for any pain or blood, still incredulous that it really all went away.

“This situation is so flarked, Mila,” Peter cooed to his horse, “What have I signed up for…”

Mila neighed softly. Peter imagined that she was saying, “I’m rooting for you!” in a cool, horse language.

Heading inside the stable, Peter found a beautiful gray stallion that he figured belonged to Adam. After getting Mila situated in her own stall, Peter made sure to give Mila and the unknown horse — who was very friendly — lots of pets and scratches before heading back to the castle. 

He took the time to change out of his blood-soaked shirt and to scour the castle, noting the locations of the kitchen, living room, library, main hall, bathroom, and bedroom (while excluding anything in the basement). As he went along, he scrutinized walls and furniture for any hidden passages — he didn’t want another Church situation on his hands. 

When he entered the uppermost, and only above-floor bedroom, he unexpectedly found himself in space. The high ceiling of the room was an homage to the night sky; painted stars, galaxies, and nebulae covered every surface. Around the room, Peter could see books, paintings, yarn, needles, small knick-knacks, and a desk with various tools and a pocket watch that Peter swore sounded a little too fast. This must be Adam's room, and it seemed like Adam had a lot of hobbies.

“Food is ready,” A voice said from behind. 

“Shit! Adam, you scared me,” Peter yelled with a hand to his heart. 

“Apologies.” 

“S’alright. You have a cool room,” Peter said while staring at the mural above.

Adam followed his gaze. “That took a year.” 

“Wow, you’re a great artist, and that’s actually shorter than I thought.” 

“I didn’t have much else to do,” Adam said a little quietly. 

Peter didn’t directly respond to that and instead pocketed Adam’s sudden, reserved tone for later. He turned toward the golden man and changed the subject. “Well, Adam, I’m starving. Lead the way back to the place of my trauma, please.” 

Adam raised an eyebrow. “The kitchen?”

“Am I wrong?” 

“No.” Adam’s lip upturned, making a minuscule smile that Peter might have described as mischievous, devious. “Let us hope history does not repeat itself.” 

At that moment, Peter decided that for all the kindness Adam had shown, he was also a big jerk.

Notes:

Here are some extra pieces from Jwiqt. First are some doddles of Peter in the pantry in chapter one, and Adam picking Peter up. Finally, a piece where Adam is touching the gem on his forehead.

Chapter 1

His birth home was not a topic Peter allowed himself to think about too often. Encircling cool air tucked strands of dark, blond hair behind his ears, and clear skies revealed shining stars flickering like candlelight. Unfortunately, these types of nights made it hard not to think about days long gone. Peter’s mood only worsened as he spotted a woman in red waiting below, contrasting harshly with the lonely, dark streets of Knowhere. He turned around to check on Mantis; she was currently standing in the middle of his bedroom, fingers nervously tapping on her palm. In an effort to reassure her, Peter gave a thumbs-up and brought a closed-eye smile to his face. Mantis’ fidgeting did not stop. 

While the circumstances weren’t ideal, Peter trusted Mantis to lead the rescue if anything went wrong. Breathing in the slightly musty air of the town, Peter leapt off his bedroom balcony and onto the streets below, wanting to avoid the possibility of running into other members of his team/family. He kept a hand on the hilt of his sword as he approached the women. In an unspoken agreement, they began walking to the outskirts of Knowhere with Peter leading the way, careful to avoid populated areas. They passed by familiar alleyways where Peter won fights (and suffered losses that no one had to know about) and passed familiar bars with memories of passed-out Guardians and wild conversations. Good times.      

Once they entered the wooded area around Knowhere, the women turned toward Peter and broke the tense silence with a steady voice. “We are elated that you have accepted our invitation tonight, Peter Jason Quill.” The crimson woman bowed slightly, her brown hair enclosing her face like a lion’s mane. Dangerous. “It is a true honor to meet you, Your Highness.”

Peter internally winced at the use of his title and full name — a name that he had not spoken aloud in over a decade. The hand on the hilt gripped tighter. “There’s no need for the fanfare, ma’am. Call me Star-lord in public and Peter in private.” 

The woman glanced briefly at Peter’s sword. “Of course, of course,” she replied, sickly sweet, “You may call me Matriarch.” She smiled and held her hands in front of her, as if she were a teacher chiding an unruly child. 

That certainly irritated Peter a little. He did not need reminders of his school days. “Well, Matriarch, I say let’s get right to the point. What do you want?”

Matriarch brought a hand up to her mouth, looking almost askance. “How blunt, Peter. We simply seek retribution for a wrong done by your team. Surely you understand the value of secrets best left unearthed. At the moment, we both have information we would rather the other not have; therefore, I propose a mutually beneficial agreement.” 

Oh goodie, Peter thought as he crunched random fallen leaves in his path. Matriarch continued, “We want you to retrieve something for us. In return, Spartax will remain unaware of the location of their missing prince.” 

Peter frowned and fiddled with his belt. He knew that this would be their blackmail, yet he was unable to suppress the shivers that crawled up his back. How did they even find out who he was, and so quickly, too? It was only a few days ago that Gamora and he stumbled upon the Church’s city. The only conclusion he could come up with was that they already knew his business. Bastards. They were probably just waiting for their chance to use this information. Luckily, Peter’s dirty laundry wasn’t the only one exposed tonight.

“As for the Guardians, we want the Church’s manpower. There’s a lot of strife going on between Xandar and Deneb, and Knowhere is getting hit hard. Help protect the areas around here and no one has to know where your Church is really hiding. Most importantly, though, stay out of Knowhere itself. The Guardians can handle the town alone.” This was usually true, but, for the most part, Peter just wanted the Church loonies to stay out of his turf.

“We are not hiding,” Matriarch plainly replied, still smiling.

Peter wanted to roll his eyes. 

She cleared her throat. “The Church values all life, even those of the non-believers. We would be delighted to help protect these lands.” She held her hands in front of her again — this time as if in prayer — and stared at Peter with wide, unsettling eyes. “What say you to my offer?” 

Peter noted that she didn’t promise to stay out of Knowhere. “That depends, what’d ya need me to get?” 

Matriarch walked silently for a minute, red dress flowing behind her, hands still held in prayer. Peter wasn’t sure if he should patiently wait for her to finish talking to who knows what, or if he should interrupt. He chose to wait. After a minute, Matriarch began speaking again, “Do you know the legend of the infinity gems?” 

Peter thought back to his childhood, of a room filled with storybooks, candles, and warmth. His mother might have told him at one point. He played with his necklace — the sharp, top point poking into his thumb.

“They’re real,” Matriarch said, a little breathless. “They are gems of extreme power, destined to bring enlightenment to this world.” She looked up to the sky, as if the enlightenment she sought could be found in the stars. “We found one a few years ago.”

She stopped walking and so did Peter. She leaned closer. He wanted to pull away. 

Matriarch whispered, “We made a mistake. Now the gem is with an individual who refuses to work with us.” 

“Damn, I wonder why,” Peter said while doing nothing to hide even an iota of his sarcasm. The floral fragrance of Matriarch’s perfume wafted to his nose and disquieted him further. It reminded him of the older, noble ladies who would fuss over him as a child. Condescending and fake. He guessed those were the qualities you needed to smell like that. 

She ignored him. “Bring this man back to us. That is what we want.” 

Tapping his boot on the ground, Peter gave the women a slight glare. “Maybe you realize this but I’m a little sympathetic to runaways. Can’t I just retrieve the gem itself and call it a day? That’s really what you want, right?”  

“You lack understanding, Peter Quill,” Matriarch said with a sigh, “The gem is attached to the individual. If they are brought to us, we can remove it without causing harm.”

Peter had so many questions about this. “Can’t a regular, not-weird-Church doctor remove it?”

Matriarch frowned, the artificial smile finally gone. 

Peter kept tapping his boot. He really wished he had a comforting cup of coffee with him. So what if it was close to 1 AM? Sue him. “Is this guy keeping the gem really so bad?”

Matriarch brought a hand up and rubbed her temple, a small sign of exasperation. It brought Peter some satisfaction to see that she was also struggling with this conversation. “Your ignorance astounds,” Matriarch said. 

Rude, Peter thought.

“Peter Quill, if a gem with god-like power is in the hands of a man with no desire to wield or direction to follow, what do you think happens?” Matriarch asked with dripping condescension.  

“They don’t use the power at all.”

“Or they misuse the power, putting the entire world in danger. 

Peter huffed a laugh while crossing his arms. “That’s extreme, lady. Are you seriously telling me there’s a magic stone out there that can destroy the world?” 

“Or bring enlightenment. Only if the Church has it back.”

Peter seriously doubted that.

It seemed Matriarch could see the doubt on Peter’s face, because she sighed and turned away from Peter with a conclusive wave. “Sleep on it, Peter Quill. Know that the fate of the world stands over you.” She looked at Peter again with a final, sweetly fake smile. “You don’t truly have much choice anyway.”

★ ★ ★ 

They really didn’t mean to find the Church’s furtive situation. Peter and Gamora were away on a completely unrelated mission: helping merchants travel from Asterion Port to the capital of Deneb, and fighting any bandits who dared get too close. Once they were done and on the way back to Knowhere, Peter pointed out an alternative route that he thought might be a shortcut. 

“We really should have known better than to follow Peter’s ideas,” Gamora later lamented. 

What awaited them was a dilapidated city on the edge of Deneb. Destroyed homes with shattered windows; burned, limestone walls; rotten, wooden support beams; toppled over stone slates; and caved in roofs greeted the pair as they traveled farther into town. Peter remembered looking at an abandoned, ornate teacup on the table of a storefront. It still had liquid, neither moldy, nor evaporated, as if momentarily forgotten during the day. That probably should have been their first sign of something being amiss. 

Together, Peter and Gamora explored the city in search of any forgotten treasures, taking advantage of this unexpected find. A stone church stood proud and mostly intact in the center of town. Inside, Light shone through the stained-glass windows, painting the broken floor tiles and dirty pews with a kaleidoscope of shining colors. The windows especially fascinated Peter. Organized religion wasn’t this thing, but he had to admit the architecture went hard. To the left, the stained glass depicted 6 colorful gems scattered throughout the world. To the right, the stained glass depicted a young man with a green gem on his forehead. Peter found himself gravitating to this side of the church while Gamora investigated the basement. 

In one glass window, a young, blond man was nailed to a cross and many people stood around him with hands together in prayer. The green gem on his forehead shined brightly. In the next window, the man — now older — stood before his followers as they bowed before him. Hues of blues, greens, yellows, and white surrounded the man. The final window had the man cradling a globe with a rainbow halo around his head. The globe itself glowed violet and red. This series of stained glass seemed more vibrant than the other on the opposite side, as if it were newer. 

The vibrant colors reminded Peter of his first sunset while out at sea. The bright reds, oranges, and pinks had captured Peter so much that he hadn’t realized he was crying until a stranger asked him if he was okay. It was just a sunset, yet as his ship sailed toward a destination he had never heard of, he thought of it as the most beautiful view of his life. 

Before Peter could examine the rest of the church nave, Gamora came out of the basement, exclaiming that she had found something. Carefully, she led Peter to a small, hidden room in the basement. The inside looked like a small storage room with some empty shelves, but hidden underneath a tile was a trap door leading somewhere below them. Gamora immediately began descending. Peter sputtered nervously above her as he called her insane, but he ultimately followed behind.

Eventually, they reached another storage room containing bookcases and a single door out. From the other side, they could hear faint sounds of congregations: children playing, parents shushing them, adults gossiping, and merchants yelling about their wares. It unnerved both of them to hear such familiar sounds far below the dirt. Peter, with as much bravery as he could muster, slowly opened the door. When he saw what was on the other side, his jaw dropped. 

It was an entire, golden village. What had to have been thousands of lanterns filled the streets, buildings, and people in a golden glow. There were even lights hanging from the cavern ceiling (how did they do that?!). The residents of this city went about their day, as if they all weren’t who-knows-how deep below the surface. All around them, in banners, windows, ceilings, and floors, were depictions of those gems Peter saw earlier. Peter and Gamora stood in a temple-like building with large, glassless windows overlooking the area.   

“Holy shit,” Gamora said. 

They stopped and stared for a minute before they heard a loud “Hey!”. Turning toward the voice, Peter saw a figure wearing a religious cloak running toward them.

“Time to skedaddle,” Peter said before ushering Gamora up the ladder ahead of him. He threw a bookcase down in the room they were in, blocking the door.   

As fast as they could, they climbed up the ladder, ran outside the ruined city, mounted their horses, and raced off. Only when he felt the whipping of the wind around him did Peter allow himself a relieved exhale. 

“Do you think they got a good look at us?" Gamora asked after a few minutes of riding.

Peter dismissed her concern. “Nah, we were like riptides running out of there. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” 

They were not fine. 

A few days later, early in the morning, Mantis brought a letter to him addressed to Star-lord. It read: Peter Jason Quill, Your knack for getting into places you don’t belong is inspiring. Meet us outside tonight as the clock strikes 12. We have much to discuss. With grace, peace, love, and mercy, the Universal Church of Truth. 

Peter burned the letter as soon as he was done reading it. 

★ ★ ★

“Peter, you’ve come back unharmed!” Mantis said as soon as Peter climbed onto the balcony of his room. Two cowlicks at the top of her head that Peter liked to call her “antenna” bobbed happily.  

He let out a confident huff. “Of course I did. Those evangelical weirdos don’t scare me.” 

Mantis let her face fall. A more serious tone taking over. “Peter, what did they want? How did they know about… You.”

Peter hunched over and sighed. “I think this situation is something the whole team should know at this point, aside from my identity, of course. I’ll tell you the details along with them tomorrow morning. When I do, please act like it’s the first time you’re hearing about any of this.” He looked at Mantis with pleading eyes. 

Mantis hung her head slightly but quickly recovered and brought her eyes back up to meet Peter’s. “Of course!”

“You’re the best, Mantis.” Peter held out his arms — a silent question. Mantis gladly answered by walking into him, accepting the hug. “I’m sorry for keeping you up so late worrying about me.” Peter whispered in Mantis’ hair, “You should go get some sleep.” 

Mantis let go of Peter. “No need for an apology. You get some sleep as well. I imagine you have a lot to think about.” 

Peter let his shoulders sag. “Oh boy, don’t I ever.” He walked Mantis back to her room — which was just next door. “Sleep tight.” 

“And if bed bugs come, they will get squashed!” Mantis said with a pump of her fist. 

“That’s my girl!” Peter said as he waved goodbye and reentered his room. 

He closed the door, took off his boots and belt, threw his sword on the floor, and crashed into bed with a soft grunt. In no time at all, he fell asleep. Green gems and glass faces were his last thoughts as he fell unconscious. 

Gamora nearly punched his right arm off the next morning. 

“Ow! Please, Gamora, that’s my most charming arm!” Peter said while rubbing his hurt limb. 

Gamora glared unsympathetically at Peter. “It’s what you get for doing something so incredibly dangerous by yourself. You should have told us the moment you got that letter.” 

After waking up and fueling himself with some coffee, Peter called an all-hands Guardians meeting. Most of the team was already in the common room; they just had to wait for Drax to wake up. Heather, always impatient, decided to barge into Drax’s room, yelling at him to get up before she started kicking things. All that while Phyla-Vell laughed at their antics. Afterwards, they all gathered around their old, wooden kitchen table — lovingly decorated with ringed water stains and mysterious scratches — and enjoyed the morning. To Peter’s dismay, he broke the jovial atmosphere with a summary of his conversation with Matriarch. He excluded any mention of his past identity and instead told his team that the Church was threatening to take over Knowhere if they did not retrieve a man of interest. 

Phyla-Vell clenched her fists. “That’s an awful deal, Peter! We can’t let them blackmail us. I say let them come, we can take them!” 

“You’re underestimating the Church’s power, dear. It’s practically an open secret that they control much of Deneb’s government,” Heather refuted, laying a calming hand on her partner’s back. Phyla-Vell leaned in and exhaled. 

Drax chimed in with a mouth half full of eggs. “Then can’t we let Xandar know where the hideout is? We are more friendly with them, and they’ll take care of the Church all quick-like.” 

Some murmurs of agreement floated around the room. After all, Xandar had been looking for an excuse to ruffle some Denebian feathers. Xandarians paying a visit to an area the Universal Church of Truth never wanted found? Anything could happen there. 

Nevertheless, Peter made a pained face. “You guys aren’t thinking. If Deneb and Xandar go to war, guess which poor sap gets caught in the crossfire?” 

The small, independent territory in between them: Knowhere. 

Gamora sighed. “So, no going to Xandar.” 

“I still think we could take them,” Phyla-Vell pouted. 

Peter slid over to Phyla-Vell and gave her head a quick and fond shake. “Let’s avoid any unnecessary battles, Phyla. Knowhere only has us to protect it.”

In any other situation, Peter might have considered going to Xandar or even Titan to get some help taking on a hostile Church. He might have even considered an espionage mission to take down the leaders of the Church, letting the group fall apart without guidance. However, involving too many people could get his past blown wide open, and that would make this situation astronomically bigger and more dangerous for everyone. He decided they couldn’t go to anyone else — the Guardians would handle everything. 

Peter looked toward Mantis, who had stayed mostly quiet throughout the conversation. He told her to pretend she didn’t know as much as she actually did, and her apparent solution was to limit her speech altogether. 

Mantis finding out that Peter was a prince of Spartax was a full mistake. He was drunk. Really drunk. Mantis pulled the shortest straw and had to be the one to drag him back home while the others partied at Starlin’s after a successful mission. As they walked back, Mantis asked him where he got his necklace. He should have just said he forgot. No, instead he started talking about home, which got him talking about his mom, which got him talking about his dad. Unwittingly, he let a name slip out: J’son. 

Mantis nearly dropped him on the pavement. Meanwhile, Peter felt the sudden urge to throw up, so he did. He held himself up by his arm on a wall and threw up on a random corner in Knowhere. Mantis held a comforting hand on Peter’s back, and that made more remorse climb his throat. A minute later, when he was done, he was shaking and close to tears; the vomit had little to do with it. 

“Please,” Peter begged, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper, “forget you heard that.” 

Mantis, of course, did not forget that conversation, but she never brought it up again. The only indication that she remembered was whenever she would throw Peter a quick glance anytime Spartax was mentioned. Since that night, Peter avoided getting near blackout drunk. 

When he got the letter from the Universe Church of Truth, he knew he wanted someone looking out for him in case he didn’t come back. Mantis, by default, was the only option. He had learned to accept Mantis as an accidental accomplice, even growing to appreciate her role in his life now. While he still hesitated on opening up about his time as royalty, Mantis and he would have occasional nights of fragile reminiscing — their similar mindsets made conversation flow easily.

Out of anyone to know his true identity, he was glad it ended up being kind, compassionate, and kick-ass Mantis.

Peter looked to her; he was pretty sure he knew her answer but he still wanted to ask. “Any thoughts?”

Mantis thought for a few seconds before answering; her face contorted in a slight grimace. “I agree that we should avoid any fighting. If getting this man is all they request, then that seems like the easier option.” 

“Is it, though?” Gamora replied, “According to them, this is a guy that can destroy the world with a gem up his ass or whatever.” 

Drax snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

“I don’t care how powerful this individual might be,” Heather said as she walked to the sink to begin washing their breakfast dishes. “If all of us work together to take him down, it should be as easy as blinking.” 

Drax emphatically nodded — Mantis following his head as it bobbed up and down, and Gamora following Mantis’ head. Phyla gave a loud “Yeah!” 

“No,” Peter put his coffee cup down. “It’s safer to treat this man being god-like as fact. And if that’s the case, then I propose that I go check him out alone. 

“What?!” The Guardians all yelled in unison. 

Peter had a few reasons for wanting to go alone. First, at the end of the day, this was his fight — even if the majority of the team didn’t know it. It was his secret possibly being revealed; therefore, it should be him doing the dirty work and getting them all out of this mess. He could already hear the Guardians’ protests at this line of thinking, but his plan also had some logic to it. He did truly believe it would be safer to treat this unknown man as god-like, as unbelievable as it sounded. In cases where all you know of your target is that they are more powerful than you, you need more information. A weakness to exploit. Emotion to manipulate. Sending people to investigate is the best practice, but you can’t let the target feel outnumbered. The situation could get dangerous. 

These are tactics Peter learned from Gamora, so it was no surprise when she recovered first. “It’s stupid, Peter. It’s so stupid.” She shook her head. “You can approach this guy alone and work whatever 'Star-lord charm' you can, but at least one of us needs to be close by. I won’t budge on that.” 

“I’ll have you know my 'Star-lord charm' has gotten me at least three free drinks at Starlin’s and countless invitations for nighttime 'activities'.” 

“Gross,” Phyla said. 

“It’s countless because it’s zero,” Gamora replied.

Peter blew raspberries in their direction before replying, “I’m fine with you guys close by. Any volunteers?”

“Drax and I will go,” Gamora said.

Drax looked wide-eyed at Gamora, as if she had just revealed that breakfast was poisoned. “Me?” 

“You can beat any bad guys we meet on the way,” Gamora reasoned. 

Drax smiled. “I’d like that.” 

“Great!” Peter exclaimed with a clap. “Us three will check out our guy while the rest stay in Knowhere and keep the peace. Any other comments?”  

The room grew silent, the conversation officially over. Some unease still lingered, so Peter “accidentally” threw a spoonful of jam at Drax’s face. That got Drax yelling and the rest of the team giggling. Peter felt his shoulders relax as he laughed with his family.

Matriarch returned that night. This time, all the Guardians were stationed at various locations near them. Peter couldn’t help the grin that grew on his face, feeling protected and loved.

“Your answer?” Matriarch asked as soon as Peter was within earshot. 

Peter crossed his arms as he approached. “I’ll get your man, but I also want to be there when you extract the gem.” Matriarch raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want you hurting this guy. That’s all.” 

A third reason why Peter wanted to meet this man alone was because this predicament felt familiar. A runway who didn’t want anything to do with his past? Peter and this guy should start a club. The possibility of this man being dangerous was high, but Peter found his empathy growing more and more throughout the day. What if this man hated the powers he was gifted? Maybe he would give up the gem easily if it wasn’t the Church that was asking for it. What if this man had no desire to hurt people? What if he just wanted to be left alone?

Peter could relate to that. When he first arrived at Asterion Port, he thought he would live the rest of his life as a loner, maybe becoming a bard. Fortunately, a pickpocket saved him from that future. Overall, Peter concluded that this man did not deserve harsh treatment until proven otherwise. In fact, this guy might be in need of a hero, and isn’t that what Star-lord was always meant to be? 

“Your presence can be arranged,” Matriarch replied, her voice low.

Peter held out his hand. “Then it looks like we have a deal.”  

★ ★ ★ 

Three days and two nights later, Drax, Gamora, and Peter were near their target. The journey took them close to the southern mountains by Xandar, the area mostly being an untouched wonderland of waterfalls, diverse flora, cute animals, and bears (which Drax would argue are still cute). The team reached the peak of a small mountain and caught their first sight of a castle, standing proud on the top of a cliff. According to Matriarch, this castle was where their target was located. From a distance, all the team could see was that the stonework castle was on the smaller side, having one keep, one round tower, two spires, and curtain walls connecting all the structures. Gamora tried to glean if the castle had any defenses, but she couldn’t see any from their distance.

They continued to hike with occasional, tired complaints from Peter about this guy being in a hard-to-reach region. Drax laughed and claimed that “the more the legs burn the happier the eyes feel”. Peter agreed the sights were pretty, but he wasn’t so sure the jelly legs and sweaty pits were worth it.  

After a bit more walking, they decided to set up a camp near a stream of water and hopefully far enough away from any residents. As they ate a late lunch, Peter and Gamora decided that they would scope out the area surrounding the castle. Peter would check the top of the cliff while Gamora would check the bottom. Drax meanwhile, antsy from the lack of encounters with enemies, went to hunt dinner. 

As Peter got closer to the castle, he noted arrow slits on the walls, the lack of a mote, and a dirt path leading to the entrance, indicating that at least one person frequently comes and goes. Peter tried to avoid thorn bushes as he let his thoughts stray to the Church. They’ve always been, frankly, creepy. But to be fair they haven't actually done anything bad (that Peter knows about). They’ve mostly been annoying, demanding to be allowed into various nations in search of something. Peter surmised he now knows what they were searching for. 

Magic gems were still mind-boggling concepts to Peter. He always loved magic and fairy tales, exhibiting excitement and wonder at the stories his mother would tell him. He used to imagine being a fairytale hero, Star-lord. Star-lord would get his magic from the sun and use his powers for the good of the universe. He’d be brave and have lots of friends and always do the right thing. He’d have magic boots that enabled him to fly, and a small, cannon-like weapon that fired light. His mother would giggle at his overactive imagination, but she never inhibited his big personality. She was the first to ask all sorts of questions about who Star-lord was, his motivation, his personality, his likes, his dislikes. She was even the one who inspired the name. 

“If you’re going to be a big shot hero, you need a cool name,” she said to Peter while he sat on her lap. 

Peter pouted and looked all around the reading room, desperate for inspiration. His blue eyes landed on the night sky outside. 

Peter’s mother followed his gaze. “Did you know stars are just suns that are really far away?”

Peter snapped his head to face hers. “No way! That can't be real!”

“It’s true,” she said while raking her fingers in Peter’s hair. “They may be small compared to the majesty of our sun, but they are just as mighty if you get close enough.” 

“So, they are all royalty, like me!”

“Yes,” his mother paused, looking toward the door of the room with solemn eyes. “like you.” 

“I got it!” Peter said with a jump, “My superhero name will be Star-lord, and the world will see that he’s just as cool as any other hero or king!”

Peter wondered if little Pete would think being the leader of a band of misfits in a grungy city, an ocean away from home, was “cool”.

The snap of a twig brought Peter’s mind back to the present. Ducking behind the nearest tree for cover, he braced his back to the trunk and quieted his breathing. He briefly thought of Gamora and wondered if she was doing better than the cowering Peter was currently engaging in. Quiet footsteps followed the loud cracks of sticks and leaves. As they grew close to Peter’s hiding spot, his fingers tensed on the hilt of his sword. The languid march of the stranger continued, and Peter’s heart raced while he became increasingly aware of the bark dragging into his back. Eventually, the footsteps retreated, likely following the desire path Peter noticed earlier. When the steps grew more distant, Peter chanced a look at his surprise visitor.

They were like a fallen sun, fires trailblazing on the Earth. So much gold assaulted his vision that, for a brief moment, Peter felt like he was back at the Spartax treasury room. When his eyes adjusted to the new abundance of color, he realized just what he was staring at — a barber’s wet dream. No way was that amount of hair possible! 

The figure slowly and wistfully strutted away from Peter, their head tilted up as if contemplating the very cosmos. A few butterflies performed a fluttering dance around their head, as if recognizing this person as one of their own. Behind them, a veil of hair cascaded down their body and overflowed into the ground below, picking up leaves and twigs, yet the locks of hair flowed easily. Upon more staring, Peter noticed how the hair was more a pale yellow than gold, the shining god rays making the strands shine with a golden hue. The stranger’s skin on the other hand was a golden tan, leaving Peter to question if that was even natural. The figure turned slightly, revealing a gleaming green gem on their forehead. 

Peter’s focus locked onto the gem. So, this was the man wanted by the Church. Peter frowned, the wonder and serenity of the moment now gone. 

Turning away from the retreating figure, Peter brought his attention to the castle ahead. If the man was out here, then the castle was open to explore. While Peter wasn’t sure if anyone else lived there, he figured his chance of winning a one-on-one fight with a not-potential-god to be pretty high. 

The rest of his team would probably call him reckless, but right now all Peter could see was opportunity. Opportunity for information, and opportunity to get the job done by himself. Determined, Peter began quietly ascending to the castle, following the dirt path all the way to the entrance. 

On the way up, he reviewed his options. Option A: break in, hope no one else is there, and gather any meaningful information. This was the safest option, but it required him to be fast since he had no idea when the man would come back home. Also, Peter wasn’t really sure what he was looking for. The man of interest and his gem were outside, and it wasn’t like the inside would have a big sign explicitly stating the man was allergic to roses or something.

Option B: break in, hide inside, and watch how the man lived. This was a way riskier play. Maybe Gamora could pull this off, but Peter wasn’t so sure of himself. Besides, when seeing the man Peter realized something; the guy is human. Yeah, he may look like some sun god walking on Earth, but in that forest, he did what any person would do: enjoy the day. 

Therefore, Peter was leaning toward option C: approach the guy. This may be the riskiest option of them all if Mr. God Man ended up being Mr. Evil God Man, but this approach will potentially get Peter closest to his goal of getting the man back to the Church, willingly or not. It wasn’t a goal Peter was particularly happy about, but for the safety of his friends, home, and himself, he had to do whatever it took. 

Besides, Peter was essentially the walking personification of charm. No matter what kind of person this man was, Peter was confident in his ability to get out mostly unscathed. 

His mind made up, Peter trekked the rest of the way to the castle by purposefully running into bushes, stepping into mud, getting dirt all over himself, and letting a branch or two rip his clothes. The intention was to look pathetic, and according to the rest of his team, Peter happened to be very good at this. 

The castle, despite the fortifications it featured, was easy to get into. The front door was unlocked — clearly because someone breaking in would be insane. With a blithe scamper, Peter went inside and stood in the middle of the foyer to take in the atmosphere. While the outside looked impressive, the inside clearly was not made to entertain guests. Don’t get him wrong, the architecture was beautiful, but the area was so big, dark, and barren that he could be convinced the entire building was abandoned. A staircase led to a tempting second floor, but Peter decided to check out the kitchen to his immediate right.

Unlike the foyer, the kitchen felt lived in. Windows adorned two walls, flooding the area with sunlight. A small breakfast nook took over a corner of the room. Some cabinet doors were wide open. Bowls, cutting boards, and cutlery were strewn about. One specific bowl harbored rising dough. Despite the misplaced items, the room was generally clean and spacious. A pantry door innocently stood at one end of the kitchen. As expected, a variety of random dry and canned food was found inside. On one shelf was a small basket of white bread loaves. 

Genius plan forming in his mind, Peter closed the pantry door behind him, grabbed a bread loaf, and waited in the dark. After around 30 minutes of twiddling his thumbs, Peter heard the opening and closing of the front door. He stayed painfully quiet as the newcomer moved around the first floor of the castle. Eventually, he heard the kitchen door open. The sounds of matches being struck, rattling of utensils, and splashes of water filled the room. Someone was beginning to cook, just as Peter hoped. 

With a deep, stabilizing breath, Peter purposely knocked over a broom in the closet. Immediately, the rustling from the kitchen stopped. Peter watched the crack under the door as a shadow grew closer and closer to the pantry. The doorknob moved slightly but did not turn all the way. 

“Rats?” a deep, harmonious voice asked. 

Alright, Quill, time to show the world your acting chops. Mama didn’t call you her bestest little actor for nothing. Breathing in, Peter answered, “Um, squeak?” Perfect. 

In a flash, the pantry door was thrown open and Peter came face to face with the man he wished to see. The light of the setting sun from the windows and the light from the lanterns around the room bathed the man in a golden aura. The force of the door opening blew his hair to the side, where Peter noticed a few leaves were still stuck. Now being so close, Peter could see that the man sported a prominent nose and a killer jawline. A literal storybook dreamboat come to life. Is this what the Church is into? As much as Peter hated to admit it, he understood. 

The man’s eyes were a strange, otherworldly iris-less and pupil-less white. Matriarch’s insistence of a god-man walking among them was questionable at best, but actually seeing the guy, Peter suddenly found the conclusion hard to argue. 

Peter didn’t get to stare at the man for much longer because pain abruptly exploded in his head. He dropped his bread loaf and fell to the ground with a loud thud. Before losing consciousness, he noticed the man holding a frying pan in his right hand. Killed by a pan, huh? Not the worst way to go.

Notes:

it has been an absolute joy to work on this AU with Jwiqt. They've already made so much content it's actually insane. In these after chapter notes, I want to share any other pieces/sketches she's done that don't make it into the story. Starting off, we have character designs for both Adam and Peter, and then an early first sketch of them together.

But that's not all. In perhaps the most insane move imaginable Jwiqt made a whole colored animatic of the entire story of this AU. Be warned, this video technically contains spoilers for future story beats, but things are still vague enough that it's not easy to tell exactly what will happen.

Watch via this YouTube link.

Finally, I don't want to promise anything about the frequency of updates, but I will say I hope to not go more than a month without updating.