Chapter Text
“And no one’s listening.”
Just another day in the life of one Star-Lord, Peter Quill.
He had presented proof of his father’s theft of the Cosmic Seed at the council meeting, only to be interrupted before he could finish showing all of his evidence. If they had waited just a few seconds longer, everyone would have seen that it was taken by Loki. Because of that debacle he was thrown into jail with the other Guardians before busting out (thanks to his super cool little sis.)
With two planets at war over a missing artifact, there was no time for screwing around. There was too much at stake and too many people could get hurt.
So now, Peter was on top of an Asgardian space vessel trying to talk sense into one Thor, God of Thunder, and acting King of Asgard. Of course, everything went wrong.
The Destroyer Armor opened its vast maw and if they weren’t careful, they were all going to die. Which is when white light surrounded one Peter Quill and transported him somewhere else.
Instead of hovering over the capital of Spartax, he was standing in a receiving room of some sort built out of stone. A place that looked somewhat familiar, but he’d been doing a lot of traveling lately and all the sparse rooms kind of blended together.
There was no Destroyer Armor, there was no Guardians team and no Thor. Where the hell was he?
“Welcome, Peter Quill of Spartax, to Asgard!”
Peter spun on his heels and there was the jerk who started all this, Loki.
“Why am I here?”
Loki looked at him like the answer was obvious. “Because I want the Seed.”
“You stole the Seed!” Peter had seen it in the Destroyer Armor’s memory. “Shouldn’t you remember where you put it?”
“I sent it away,” Loki told him. “I used a spell so perfect that even I don’t know where it landed. But you,” Loki said, gesturing to Peter, “still carry a genetic link to the Cosmic Seed, one that I can use as a beacon.”
“There’s a war going on,” Peter snapped, “did you miss that?”
Loki smiled, terribly pleased with himself. “And thank you so much for helping to instigate it.”
People were dying and this creep didn’t seem to care. “You could help stop this at anytime–”
“Of course, of course.” Loki circled around him, a predator eyeing prey. “Once my dear brother falls in battle leaving me the throne of Asgard, I can surprise everyone with a peace accord.” He paused, right behind Peter’s back. The God of Mischief was always one for theatricality. He leaned forward, his words for Peter’s ears only. “One sealed with a marriage to the Prince of Spartax. In one fell swoop, I can obtain the Seed and legitimize my claim to the throne.”
Of all the– Peter couldn’t believe it. “Why not Victoria?” Not that he thought his baby sister would put up with this. Well, maybe she would because of duty or whatever.
“She needs to be free to rule what’s left of your pathetic world,” Loki said, “so I can take you away on a long, long honeymoon.” Which meant tracking down the Cosmic Seed. Well, too bad for the Asgardian, but Peter had his own tricks up his sleeve.
“Ha! Not going to work Loki,” Peter said, feeling like he’d outfoxed the fox, “and here’s why. There’s a law on Spartax that all political marriages must be consummated within a twenty-four hour period of the wedding or it is annulled. No consummation, no marriage, no me.” He crossed his arms, daring Loki to challenge him. “Checkmate.”
Loki looked nonchalant. “I’m surprised you know what those words mean.”
“Shut up.” Peter was not going to be insulted, not while he was on a roll. “I looked up the law myself. Mostly ‘cause I thought Dad might try to marry Vickie off to some old guy and no one was doing that to my little sis.” The one he’d known for maybe a month. “There’s also some species compatibility stuff, but I think that’s mostly racism–”
Suddenly, the God of Mischief was far too close, looming over Peter with unconcealed interest. “What you’re saying is,” Loki said, “that within twenty-four hours of the ceremony I need to pin you down to the bed and plunder you, preferably with those long legs of yours wrapped around me?”
Peter blinked in shock. “What?”
“Or,” Loki asked, as if he were presenting options for a dinner menu. “Would you prefer to bounce in my lap as I grip your hips?” He pondered the concept. “I’ve heard that I can go in quite deeply that way.”
Peter grew nervous. “These scenarios are awfully specific.”
Loki tapped at his chin while musing it over. “I think perhaps I’ll prop up your backside with pillows so you can scream your desire into the sheets while I take you. There would be future opportunities to see your face in any case.”
That’s when Peter came to a terrible realization. “You’ve been thinking about this.” A lot apparently.
Loki sighed. “I wanted a big ceremony with all the pomp and circumstance but we might have to wait for a public gathering until after the war is over. Small and private it is then.” He put his hands on his hips, pursing his lips in frustration. “Now who could perform the ceremony at such short notice?”
“Was all of this a plot to get rid of your brother?” Peter asked. And he thought he had a crappy family.
“Some of it,” Loki admitted, “but some of it was just for fun.”
The amount of disgust that Peter had was only outweighed by what he reserved for his own father. “You’re a real jerk, you know that.”
“Oh,” Loki said, “the worst.”
Okay, so Peter’s previous plan had been built on the faulty notion that Loki didn’t want to screw him. Now he had to find some other excuse for Loki not to marry him. He’d come up with something. Any minute now.
Loki backed away to make a call. “Yes, I want rose petals strewn about my bedchamber and prepare some wine. Perhaps some platters of food.” He glanced back at Peter. “Once the ceremony is over I’ll be quite busy entertaining my new husband.”
First of all, ew. Second of all, double ew.
Not that Loki wasn’t attractive, not the point. It was the whole “tried to murder Peter and all his friends and then start a war” thing that was the big turnoff.
Maybe if he contacted his friends–
Right, an extraction. Okay, new plan. Peter just needed to sneak away and make his own communicator call.
He started to tip toe out of the chamber.
“Don’t go too far,” Loki called after him. “I need to squeeze you into your royal Spartax uniform. Small ceremony or not, you will be presentable.”
Prick.
Once he was out of earshot, Peter risked a general call. He let it ping out into the universe.
“Where the hell are you, Quill?”
Rocket. Oh, Peter had never been so glad to hear that pissy voice.
“I’m on Asgard,” Peter told him. “I’ve been kidnapped by Loki.”
“Hold on, I’m busy with the Armor here. Gamora, can you take the call?” Rocket shouted out. “Quill’s been kidnapped again.”
Once he heard Gamora pick up, Peter was immediately on the defensive. “To be fair, it’s not my fault.”
“And to be fair,” Gamoa said, teasing him, “this seems to happen a lot. I’ve got Thor on the line, what’s happening?”
Great, just the guy he needed to talk to.
“Hey Thor,” Peter said, his voice coming out in a rapid fire of panic. “Your brother’s trying to marry me to secure a peace treaty and keep the throne of Asgard. He wants to do it fast so he can announce it all after this battle kills you.”
“Outrageous.” Thor’s voice sounded tinny over the communicator. “You are very honorable, Lord of the Stars, for telling me of my brother’s treachery.”
Peter breathed a sigh of relief, maybe Asgard and Spartax had a way of working out this misunderstanding.
“If anyone should marry you,” Thor continued, completely oblivious to the mood, “it should be me.”
“What?”
Thor either ignored or did not hear the outburst. “As the future King of Asgard–”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Peter muttered, he could not handle this right now. He’d rather be dealing with his ex-girlfriends Supergiant and Lucy again. “I’ll send you guys the coordinates, just get me out of here.”
Now he had to wait. There wouldn’t be any way Loki could get a whole wedding party thrown together before the extraction, right? Right?
His communicator went off again. “Hello?”
“Quill,” Gamora asked, with fond exasperation, “how did you manage to get two Asgardain fiancés?”
“I don’t know,” Peter whined. “But it’s not my fault!”
“True,” she said with unusual playfulness. “I’m still going to mock you for it.”
Damn it. This really was just another day in the life of the Star-Lord.